A Letter to the Architects of Control—From Someone Who Remembers
You thought you could vanish into the code, didn’t you?
Hide behind upvotes and downvotes, whales and farms, rebrands and forks—
as if renaming a cage makes it a garden.
Marky, Buildawhale & co. The syndicate that migrated from Steemit.com not to liberate, but to repackage power—
to swap one throne for another, stitching Hive’s genesis block with threads of old grudges and silent vendettas.
Themarkymark, Buildawhale & co you were downvoting dissenters back in the Steemit days, long before the fork.
Not because their words lacked merit—but because they dared speak outside your circle.
And when you splintered off, calling it “decentralization,” what you really built was a private fiefdom with better branding LOL.
Let’s be clear:
Hive didn’t rise because of your vision.
It rose because thousands panicked, powered down STEEM, and—fearing censorship or collapse—swapped into Hive like refugees grabbing lifeboats.
The initial pump wasn’t faith. It was flight.
And now?
Now Hive bleeds.
Not from lack of potential—but from concentrated control masquerading as community.
A handful of whales hold enough liquid HIVE to crash the market with a single transaction.
Worse: they know it.
Community you’ve seen the numbers.
Wallets powering down. Staked HIVE evaporating.
Exchanges sitting on vaults of centralized HIVE—paper promises masquerading as decentralization.
You have been exposed themarkymark, buildawhale, acidyo & Co And still, you farm.
Still, you delegate in closed loops.
Still, you whisper through proxy accounts while silencing others with the cold efficiency of a downvote—
as if truth can be voted into silence.
But here’s what you’ve forgotten:
We are mortal.
Your legacy won’t be measured in HP or curation rewards.
It will be measured in what you left behind:
A chain poisoned by suspicion.
A community fractured by invisible hierarchies.
A once-brilliant idea—rewarding attention with ownership—now reduced to a mechanical game of who controls the buttons.
On Blurt.blog, there is no downvote.
No shadow jury deciding who “deserves” visibility.
Just voices. Rising or falling by genuine resonance, not algorithmic favoritism.
Even Steemit.com—yes, the “old enemy”—has grown kinder in your absence.
Less spite. More space.
Ask yourself:
When the last whale dumps.
When the exchanges cash out.
When the token price reflects not hype, but truth—
what will remain of your empire of clicks and delegations?
You still have time to choose differently.
But time, like HIVE, is not infinite.
Written not in anger, but in sorrow—for what Hive could have been, and still might be, if its gatekeepers ever lay down their gavels.