LIQUID DEMOCRACY, SOUTH AFRICA & A BRAVE NEW WORLD
19th of February, 2019. Monday evening. Vapiano, Gamla Stan, Stockholm. The smell of pizza, parmesan, and—unmistakably—faint sour piss curls through the air like incense in this strange church of German wannabe Italian commercial franchise culture. I sit among socialist men in the men’s group Linus and I created—half-curious, half-predatory—while half-cool, half-dead elevator music pulses behind our petty hierarchy talk and ego-hacking paranoia, the endless background lore of men trying to impress other men.
I’m introduced to Tim across from me—elf-like, half-like, otherworldly, very small, yet sending a shockwave of light through the soft bright atmosphere of garlic pasta. He speaks of utopia with unnerving calm: a world reshaped by liquid democracy, a decentralized digital ecosystem connecting every individual so precisely it pings like a tuning fork in the chest. I nod, absorb it, taste it like creamy butter-coffee. Spotify for political engagement where anyone can enter, vote, co-create, rewrite laws, bend society toward collective, prosocial, promiscual harmony. A global experiment in listening, collaboration, and progress.
I bring up my 7 levels of listening—the invisible architecture of societal evolution, the hidden levers that make people cooperate. I can see the change in his face, big eyes, the subtle drooling, his pulse rising. He believes in himself when I repeat what he says, and against all logic, I find myself believing the whole story too.
Some other men lean in. Henrik, Henrik… The Witch Doctor. “What are you talking about?” one asks, a little envious but Swedish-ly reverent, as if they’re smelling a ritual they weren’t invited to. Tim gestures: “David, pitch it.” Perfect. Ten minutes of preparation. Now a sermon on the mount.
“Remember Iceland, 2008?” I ask. Silence. Attention captured. “A total collapse of the Icelandic government and infrastructure. Their economy broke itself. The people took the digital reins in their own hands and rewrote the entire constitution—a peaceful revolution of sorts. Laws, frameworks, foundations—completely torn down and digitally co-created by the people.” I pause. “Tim’s project is doing just that, but for the whole world.”
The next day, he calls: “I need you. Coffee?” I had just been on an interview at a click-banner company for mobile casinos—could not imagine anything more hypocritical. So I tell him, “Money isn’t that important. I just need to pay the rent.”
His voice lights up. “Wow! Yes! Exactly what I want to hear. I don’t have a lot of money, but I can give you a small Bitcoin compensation for now. Thirty grand. Will that do? Later, a real salary—sixty-five, seventy-five thousand. And by the way: we’re heading to South Africa next month, the last two weeks of April. Wanna come? Meet Brett, our CTO, and see the house I bought in Cape Town.”
My mind tilts. Three months out of custody. Teetering between being labeled completely insane or completely evil. The shaming and isolation still haunted my nervous system. I had not yet regained anything resembling equilibrium.
But this felt like oxygen after drowning, so I extend my hand. “Sure. Let’s do this. Just need to renew my passport.” Time for the next adventure… a Brave New World awaits.
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