Twenty-five years ago today, a young, little-known programmer by the name of Bram Cohen fired off a short message to a mailing list for peer-to-peer enthusiasts. “My new app, BitTorrent, is now in working order, check it out here,” Cohen wrote, followed by a link to his personal website.
“What’s BitTorrent, Bram?” the founder of the list asked in response.
Cohen never bothered to reply. The world would find out soon enough.
In the following years, BitTorrent quickly became the world’s most popular file-sharing app, unleashing a massive wave of piracy that upended Hollywood forever. At one point, BitTorrent was said to be responsible for a huge amount of internet traffic — some widely cited metrics peg it at half of P2P and one-third of all internet traffic in 2004. And while the entertainment industry succeeded in shutting down file-sharing systems like Napster and Kazaa, it largely failed to curtail the massive flood of BitTorrent piracy.
What stymied movie studios and record labels alike is exactly what makes the story of BitTorrent’s 25th anniversary a gripping one. There’s BitTorrent, the app that Cohen unveiled in July 2001 and which continues to attract tens of millions of monthly users to this day. There’s BitTorrent, the file-sharing protocol, which has been adopted and advanced by hackers and developers from around the world, and which helped birth an entire cottage industry of piracy websites. And there’s BitTorrent, the company cofounded by Cohen, which struggled for years to make money with its technology.
“Going into it, my plan was not to start a business,” Cohen recalls. “My plan was to start a revolution.”
This is the story of that revolution, and all that remains of it today.
Cohen started working on BitTorrent soon after leaving Mojo Nation, a startup that had ambitious plans to combine file sharing, distributed computing, and micropayments, only to shut down in 2002 without ever really getting off the ground.
Cohen helped Mojo Nation improve the efficiency of its file-sharing technology. His approach was to use something called swarming distribution: Instead of swapping large files between a few users at a time, the app would divide each file into lots of little chunks, and then allow large numbers (or swarms) of users to trade those chunks among themselves. The ethos of sharing was built into the software, insisting that users would help upload files instead of just downloading them selfishly.
Cohen was disillusioned by the failure of Mojo Nation but not ready to give up on the underlying technology just yet. “I decided to make a tool that very narrowly just did swarming distribution and nothing else, because that was a thing I knew how to do,” he says.
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