What you really need in crypto is anarchists. Not the market-driven, “freedom for profit” types who have hijacked the term—you need true highly disagreeable anarchists. People who aren’t here to play the same game with new tools. The blockchain wasn’t meant to be a new way to prop up the old system—it was meant to be a repurposing that shatters it, piece by piece. This isn’t about finding a smarter way to drive the ship of state. The vision of crypto needs to evolve beyond just another financial system or a new way to invest; it must become a network of liberation, a decentralized force too wild and unpredictable to be captured by any power structure. If crypto’s potential is to be realized, it needs to embrace the anarchist spirit—not to replicate or reform the old, but to create something utterly new, something that doesn’t play by their rules. Only then can we truly start building the future.

The problem with anarchists is that they really believe what they’re saying. They’re not here for the post or the clout—they’re here because they genuinely want to repurpose the whole damn system. They’re not interested in tweaking or improving what’s already there; they want to repurpose it. And yeah, that’s what makes them highly disagreeable. They’ll argue, they’ll challenge, they’ll disagree with you over every little thing, because they’re not interested in your comfort zone. They’re assholy uncompromising, and that’s probably the most unappealing thing about them. But guess what? That’s exactly why they’re totally necessary. The world doesn’t need more reformists or “free-market anarchists” trying to make the same system work in a slightly shinier way. What it needs are people who can see the game for what it is and are willing to burn down the rules to build something that can’t be controlled. Crypto needs anarchists—not the ones who want to “optimize” capitalism, but the ones who want to bypass it. If crypto is ever going to fulfill its true potential, it has to break free of the comfortable, palatable ideas and bring in the ones willing to challenge everything. These anarchists, for all their contradictions and abrasiveness, are the ones who will turn this revolution from a business opportunity into something real

Forget the tokenomics playbook. Burn it. Tear it apart like a bad fix. This isn’t about utopias or digital dreams; this is about tactics, about putting cracks in the corporate panopticon. About turning every node, every wallet, every transaction into a weapon against the system. An anonymous army moving faster than the boot can stamp.

Because let me tell you something about revolution: it isn’t neat. It doesn’t come with a user manual or “best practices.” It’s chaos spiked with intent, spreading like a virus through the veins of the network. Decentralized and ungovernable, a cryptographic Molotov cocktail hurled into the glass towers of finance.

You want this to work? You need the real subversives, the ones central casting would call when the script calls for chaos. No ties, no rules, no compromises. The ones who’ll strip the blockchain down to its raw, unpolished guts and rewire it into something dangerous, something alive.

So ditch the myths of clean revolutions and “win-win” systems. This isn’t a business opportunity; it’s a knife fight in the back alleys of the digital world. The only rule is this: burn the old scripts and write your own, one block at a time.

You’re supposed to be building a network to occupy the catacombs, not just to dress up the old systems in digital drag. A real network isn’t a simulacrum of what came before; it’s a rejection of it, an evolutionary leap that makes the old systems irrelevant, like fire did to darkness. The point of these technologies isn’t to replicate the ship of state with a sleeker hull or a blockchain-powered rudder—it’s to sink the ship entirely and replace it with something unrecognizable, something uncontrollable.

Because as we’ve seen time and again, with the anarcho-capitalist or your garden variety creator, the moment they sniff power, they’ll leap to take the wheel. They don’t want to dismantle the ship—they want to steer it, to chart a course for their own interests while pretending the deckhands below are free because they got to vote on the color of the sails. They wrap themselves in the language of liberty while salivating over the chance to pilot the very systems they once pretended to oppose.

The network you build has to be more than a shadow of the systems you claim to reject; it has to be something dangerous to those systems, something uncooptable. A hydra, a viral contagion, a decentralized web that grows, shifts, and evolves faster than the ship of state can chart its waters.

But the real work? The real network? That’s underground, beneath the radar, an evolving ecosystem of refusal. You’re not replicating the structures of power; you’re writing them out of the story. Every line of code, every transaction, every whispered key in the dark should be building toward something that can’t be centralized, something that slips through the cracks of their machines.

Forget using blockchain to buy coffee or tokenize loyalty points. That’s just another cage, this time with digital bars. You’re supposed to be creating tools that undo the ship of state entirely, tools that can’t be co-opted or monetized or locked down by suits with a three-point plan.

Because here’s the thing: you let them buy in, and they’ll buy you out. They’ll sell the idea of freedom back to the highest bidder, package the rebellion in shiny wrappers, and call it “innovation.” They’ll pave the road to nowhere and slap a toll booth at the end.

The goal isn’t to drive the ship of state; it’s to repurpose it. To leave behind no blueprint, no wheelhouse, no anchor for the next would-be captain to cling to. And if you can’t do that—if all you’ve got is another way to repackage the same old hierarchy—then you’re not a revolutionary. You’re just another deckhand waiting for your turn at the helm, but you already knew that so I digress.