There is a discomfort that lingers every time I read official reports on remittances in Latin America. Multilateral organizations celebrate the gradual reduction of average sending costs —from nearly 10% to around 6% or 7%— as if this were a structural achievement. Meanwhile, millions of families continue to pay fees that cut painfully into their income, and those who discovered stablecoins already operate in a world of costs close to 1%, with settlements measured in minutes. The gap between these two worlds is not just technical; it is an open wound in the narrative of financial inclusion.
I believe the public discussion about crypto assets in remittances has been poorly framed from the outset. It has been presented as a promise of the future, a niche experiment, or, in the worst case, a regulatory threat. But the 2024 data show that it is none of these things. Mexico received more than 64 billion dollars in remittances last year.
Of that total, between 2% and 3% —800 million to 1.2 billion dollars— traveled via crypto assets, with a year-on-year increase of 40%. Bitso, the Mexican platform, moved 6.5 billion dollars in remittances during 2024, 51% more than in 2023, covering on its own 10% of the United States–Mexico corridor. These figures do not represent a pilot; they describe an operating infrastructure that is already statistically relevant.
The reason for that growth is not ideological. It comes down to cost and speed. A traditional transfer of 200 dollars can take up to five business days and strip the recipient of around 8% in commissions and exchange rate margins. The same amount sent via a stablecoin settles in minutes and costs, depending on the network and platform, between fractions of a cent and 3%.
The difference translates directly into higher real income for households: more food, more medicine, less debt. Users in Argentina and Venezuela are not acting out of technological enthusiasm, but making a rational economic decision in response to a system that offers inferior conditions.
There is a second layer worth emphasizing, because it breaks the stereotype of crypto as a purely retail phenomenon. In 2024, the volume of stablecoin transactions between businesses in Latin America surpassed for the first time that of family remittances, reaching 45% of the total. This signals that companies are using the same rails to pay suppliers, settle imports, and manage working capital. When corporate flows validate an infrastructure, the discussion shifts from experimentation to proven economic utility.
Faced with this evidence, I am concerned by the tendency of some regulators to treat all crypto assets as a single class of risk. The European Union established an identity verification threshold at 990 euros. The intention is clear: prevent money laundering and increase traceability. However, the side effect is equally clear: friction in small-value transfers, precisely those that sustain household economies and where this technology delivers the most value. The solution is not deregulation, but regulatory calibration, recognizing the payment function of stablecoins and distinguishing them from speculative, volatile assets.
I am also not persuaded by narratives that frame this phenomenon as merely a symptom of informal dollarization. Argentina received 91.1 billion dollars in crypto assets last year. Venezuela shows intensive use of USDT for payments and savings. Blaming the tool for the lack of trust in local currencies is, in my view, a diagnostic error. Stablecoins are not the cause of inflation or capital controls; they are an adaptive response by citizens trying to preserve purchasing power. If monetary systems provided stability, demand for these tools would naturally decline. The relevant question is not why the lifeboat exists, but why the ship is taking on water.
Another underexplored dimension is user experience. Applications are increasingly integrating crypto at a deep, invisible layer while presenting interfaces identical to traditional banking. The concept of “invisible remittance” captures this transition: the user sends money through a familiar app, while settlement occurs via stablecoins in the background. This is already being tested by banks and fintechs. The implication is profound: efficiency gains reach users without requiring technical knowledge. At that point, debates about whether crypto is “trustworthy” become irrelevant, because the interface is indistinguishable from legacy systems.
My position is not triumphalist. There are real limitations. The volatility of non-stable crypto assets disqualifies them for remittances. Fraud risks and cyberattacks demand higher user education. The digital divide excludes vulnerable populations. Self-custody remains complex. These are not minor issues. However, none of them have halted the expansion of crypto-based remittances. On the contrary, users are migrating toward platforms that combine security, usability, and compliance, and the industry is adapting accordingly.
I write this because the analysis of remittances in Latin America must incorporate the data without bias. This is not about promoting a technology, but recognizing that a growing, material share of cross-border flows is already occurring outside traditional measurement systems. This should matter to central banks and policymakers. Ignoring it because the label “crypto” is uncomfortable will not make it disappear. What may disappear instead is the opportunity to design regulation that protects users while reducing costs.
I do not claim to have the perfect balance between control and efficiency. But I am convinced of one thing: the starting point must be intellectual honesty. If 10% of the world’s largest remittance corridor already flows through crypto-based platforms, if business usage has surpassed consumer transfers, and if growth rates significantly outpace traditional channels, then the debate is no longer about the future.
The debate is about how we interpret the present.
And what the data shows —quietly, without slogans— is that the shift has already happened.
