🧰 From Mechanic to Parts Replacer — and from Machinist to Knob Turner Once upon a time, machines were alive. Back then, troubleshooting meant listening to a pump’s rhythm, smelling burnt insulation, and feeling if a relay was just a bit too warm. You could tell a cable’s mood just by looking at it. Today, that’s called wasted time. The modern technician doesn’t think — he scans. An error code tells him what’s broken, and he replaces a module. Done. No spark, no insight, no magic. And so, the mechanic slowly became a parts replacer — a man who knows his way around boxes, but not what’s inside. A technician proudly swaps a €400 module when the real problem was a three-cent layer of oxidation. “Time is money,” they say. But apparently, understanding has become too expensive. And it’s not just mechanics. The old-school machinist has been reborn as a train operator — a title better suited for an amusement park ride. The veterans who could feel the engine through their seat have been replaced by button-twisters with tablets. Where there used to be craftsmanship, there’s now firmware. Humans have become spectators to their own tools. Everything must be faster, safer, easier — and dumber. Fixing something can no longer be an art, because art can’t be measured — and therefore isn’t efficient. But there’s still hope. Some mechanics can still hear the difference between a bearing that spins and a bearing that complains. Some machinists still know that a train should rattle, and that silence is far more dangerous. Because a true mechanic knows — once you stop listening, that’s when the real trouble begins. #money #oldkills

Don’t Trust, Verify — or How I Outsmarted the Fake Bankers It always starts the same way. Your phone rings. Unknown number. A serious voice says, “Good afternoon, this is the fraud department of the Rabobank.” And right there — before the coffee even hits your lips — you’re the star of your own crime thriller. Apparently, someone transferred money from my account to a “German recipient.” He even knew my name, my account number — impressive! But something felt… off. Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the fact that real bankers don’t sound like they’re sitting in a call center above a kebab shop. So I asked him, very calmly: “What’s the secret verification code I have with the Rabobank?” He paused. “Uh, I can’t tell you that, sir.” Of course he couldn’t — because it didn’t exist. I made it up on the spot. That’s when I knew: the hunter had become the hunted. I could almost hear the Windows XP error sound in his head. Click. Game over. ⸻ A few months earlier I’d had another “bank expert” on the line. This one claimed to be from the Rabobank’s IT department. I decided to have some fun. Me: “That’s funny, I don’t even have an account with Rabobank.” Him: “Oh, I see that now. You’re actually with ING.” Me: “Yes, that’s correct.” Him: “Well, we work together — Rabobank and ING.” At that moment, I laughed so hard I nearly reset my own firewall. These people have an answer for everything… except logic. So I kept him talking. For one whole hour. An hour in which he couldn’t scam anyone else. An hour of pure digital community service. ⸻ The moral of the story? Fraudsters don’t fear technology — they fear awareness. Their greatest enemy is not antivirus software; it’s a calm mind armed with a single principle we Bitcoiners live by: Don’t trust, verify. So the next time your phone rings and a “banker” claims to save you from fraud, smile politely, ask for your “secret code,” and enjoy the moment when their script crashes #Bitcoin #fraud #bank

The Synchromesh of Europe – and the Revision Called Bitcoin Once upon a time, the euro was sold as the perfect lubricant for a united machine. One currency, one gear, one destiny. It sounded brilliant — an engineer’s dream of harmony. But whoever built this gearbox forgot a simple truth: every country spins at a different RPM. France used to enrich itself quietly through the African franc and cheap uranium. Germany ran like a precision engine until CO₂ regulations clogged its exhaust. The Netherlands debates itself into standstill, arguing which pedal to press while the clutch burns. And Brussels, sitting behind the wheel, insists the grinding noise is “progress.” The euro was supposed to be the synchromesh — the clever piece that makes mismatched engines run smoothly together. But the sync is gone. The teeth grind, the gearbox rattles, and instead of oil they pour in politics. The result: more friction, more heat, less movement. And yet, they marvel at their own magnificence and believe they’ve given life birth. A creation so perfect it must not be questioned — a monetary Matrix where everything looks normal, as long as you don’t pull the plug. But real mechanics know better. When a gearbox sounds like that, you don’t turn up the radio — you stop and revise it. That’s where Bitcoin enters the workshop. Bitcoin doesn’t steer, it doesn’t impose. It’s the clean oil that lets each engine spin freely, transparently. It doesn’t promise unity — it guarantees honesty. Every ten minutes, block after block, it reminds the world that systems built on truth don’t need central control. Yes, some engines will seize. Some countries will stall. But that’s how you keep the machine honest — by allowing weak parts to fail instead of forcing the whole system to limp along. The euro was an attempt to synchronize human nature by decree. Bitcoin is the opposite: it lets nature run its course. Predictable. Neutral. Untouchable. The euro tried to make us one. Bitcoin lets us be many — and still connected. And if Europe ever wants to stop grinding itself into dust, it might finally need that long-overdue revision. Because if it’s grinding, you don’t add rules. You add oil. And that oil is called Bitcoin #Bitcoin #Europa #wakeup

“Too Little Hot Water” Today, the machine told me: Error — too little hot water, too cold. A clear message, even for a Monday. So I rolled up my sleeves, opened her up, and found the culprit — a lazy little valve called Y39, half-asleep behind a clogged filter. I fixed it, ran a test, and poured myself a cup of tea — fresh ginger with lemon. That’s when I heard my mother’s voice in my head again. She used to call ginger tea “stuff for goat-wool hippies.” She also used to say, “Just be normal, son. Don’t stick your head above the crowd.” She meant it kindly, the way her parents once meant it to her. It was their way of keeping life safe, predictable — lukewarm. But as I sipped that steaming cup, I realized something: You can fix a valve, replace a filter, even warm the water again. But when your own life runs cold, no system, no manual, no rulebook can tell you who you are. That part — you have to find by getting your hands dirty, listening to the hiss of your own boiler, and daring to add a little more heat. #system #Freedom #mother

⚖️ When Greed Meets Gravity: The Fall of Paper Silver For decades, silver has been suppressed — not by free markets, but by manipulation and greed. Banks and funds built a tower of paper contracts on a foundation of almost no real metal. For every ounce of silver in existence, a hundred paper ounces were promised. It worked — until reality started calling. Now, physical silver is vanishing from shelves, industrial demand keeps rising, and more people are asking the only question that matters: “Where is the real metal?” You can print money. You can print debt. But you can’t print silver. When the paper market finally collapses, it won’t be an accident — it will be gravity correcting arrogance, truth catching up with illusion. And those who hold what’s real — gold, silver, Bitcoin — will simply watch the storm pass. 🪙 “He who holds real value, sleeps through chaos.”

🏛️ The Four Pillars of Real Value In an age of endless money printing, artificial growth, and political spin, real value hides in the few things governments can’t conjure out of thin air. True wealth doesn’t live in spreadsheets or promises — it lives in things that endure: land, gold, productive companies, and Bitcoin. These are the four pillars that hold when the illusion of stability collapses. Real estate grounds you in the physical world. It provides shelter, income, and tangible presence. Gold and silver remind us that value is earned through scarcity and trust built over millennia. Equities, when carefully chosen, represent real productivity — people creating something of worth. And Bitcoin is the new pillar — digital, incorruptible, and borderless — the antidote to a system built on debt and deception. Together, these pillars form an antifragile foundation: when one shakes, the others stand. They don’t promise quick riches; they promise resilience. As the current financial order bends under its own weight, more people will rediscover what money was always meant to be — a mirror of real human effort and honest exchange.

Democracy Cannot Coexist with Centralized Money Democracy is often celebrated as the pinnacle of human governance — a system where people, not rulers, hold the ultimate power. But there is a silent contradiction at its core, one that most democracies have yet to confront: as long as money is centralized, democracy will always be compromised. The Seduction of Power In a democracy, politicians depend on votes. In theory, they serve the people. In practice, they serve reelection. And the most powerful tool to win hearts — and silence criticism — is money. When governments control the issuance of money, every problem begins to look like something that can be “fixed” with spending. Promises are made, programs are funded, deficits are ignored, and new money is created out of thin air to sustain the illusion of prosperity. This cycle — spending, borrowing, inflating — is not a flaw of democracy. It is an inevitability when political systems gain control over monetary systems. Centralized money turns democracy into an auction. Votes are bought not with ideas, but with incentives. Citizens are seduced by stimulus checks and subsidies, unaware that the price will later be extracted through inflation and debt. A Lesson from History This pattern is not new. Ancient Rome debased its silver coinage to fund wars and please the masses with “bread and circuses.” In Weimar Germany, hyperinflation followed the same logic — too many promises, not enough production. And in 1971, when the United States abandoned the gold standard, it severed the last link between money and reality. From that moment, every democracy inherited the same hidden flaw: the power to print without limit, and the political temptation to use it. The result has been predictable — a world drowning in debt, inequality, and disillusionment. The numbers grow, but the meaning behind them evaporates. The Erosion of Truth Money is not just a medium of exchange; it is a measure of truth. When money loses its anchor, so does society’s sense of honesty. Prices distort. Effort becomes disconnected from reward. Savings dissolve into air. And the citizen’s ability to plan, save, or resist becomes weaker with each passing year. When truth in money is lost, truth in politics follows. A population that no longer understands what money is can be manipulated by those who do. Thus, the ultimate power in a democracy no longer rests with voters — it rests with those who control the money supply. Bitcoin and the Return of Integrity Bitcoin offers a radical yet simple alternative: money that no one can print. It restores scarcity and discipline in a world addicted to easy credit and endless expansion. Its rules are enforced by code, not by politicians. It cannot be inflated to win elections or fund wars. That is why it is not merely a technological innovation, but a political revolution. Bitcoin separates money from state, just as the Enlightenment once separated church from state. It is not anti-democratic — it is pro-democracy, in its purest sense. A democracy without monetary honesty is theater. A democracy with sound money is truth in action. The Moral of the Story A society cannot remain free when its money is a tool of manipulation. When politicians can print wealth, they will — and they will use it to stay in power. Inflation becomes taxation without representation, and debt becomes control without consent. The solution is not to “fix” democracy, but to disarm it — to take away the weapon of centralized money. Only then can people choose their leaders without being bribed by their own future. When money can be printed, power can be bought. When money is honest, power must be earned. And that is the true test of democracy.

🇬🇷 Democracy with a Smile: When Power Forgets to Ask It feels poetic — standing here in Greece, the birthplace of democracy, while the world quietly slides toward the very thing it once swore to resist. The temples may be in ruins, but their stones still whisper a truth we seem to have forgotten: democracy dies not with a bang, but with silence — when people stop asking why and start accepting because. In a true democracy, power is a loan — temporarily entrusted by the people, and always subject to return. In a dictatorship, power is property — owned, guarded, and rarely surrendered. The line between the two isn’t drawn by uniforms or flags, but by consultation: whether those in power still feel the need to ask permission before they act. When a president can, in secret, place names on a list and decide who lives or dies — without debate, without transparency, without law — the constitution becomes a stage prop. The audience applauds, the actors smile, but the script has changed. What once was democracy has become dictatorship with good branding. The Greeks knew that freedom required dialogue, not decree. Even their gods argued. Today’s leaders, however, seem to prefer the efficiency of silence. “National security,” they say, as if those two words could erase morality, consent, or conscience. There’s a simple moral law older than any constitution: Do not steal. And when you kill, you steal everything — time, future, possibility. It doesn’t matter if you wear a crown, a suit, or a flag on your lapel; theft is still theft. So yes — democracy was born here, in this sun-soaked land of logic and light. But its death, if we allow it, will come not from tyrants in tanks, but from leaders who smile while skipping the conversation. #democracy #dictator #reedom #greece

When a Tragedy Becomes More Than an Incident In recent days, the Netherlands has been gripped by a terrible event: the murder of a young girl. The news has shaken us all. The grief for the victim, the despair of her loved ones — it is almost impossible to grasp. Above all, this is a tragedy that should never have happened. And yet, we must tread carefully. Because what unfolds now — in the media, in politics, and in society — is just as important as the event itself. The collective cry of “This must never happen again!” is understandable, but it often hides something deeper — and more dangerous. The Call for Safety After every tragedy comes the same promise: never again. Solutions are quickly proposed — more cameras, harsher punishments, tighter control. People feel a temporary sense of safety, as if society can somehow take hold of evil. But that is an illusion. Absolute safety does not exist. Violence and crime are as old as humanity itself. There will always be acts we cannot predict, cannot prevent. The belief that we can prevent them through ever more control often carries a quiet cost: our own freedom. Bit by bit, we surrender our space to move, our privacy, and our humanity — all in exchange for a promise that can never truly be kept. The Individual as Scapegoat The perpetrator is quickly portrayed as a monster — pushed outside the realm of humanity, as if he were an exception, a malfunction in the system. In doing so, society comforts itself: the problem lies with him, not with us. But is that really true? Of course, an individual bears responsibility for their actions. Yet every person is also a product of their environment. No one wakes up one morning and decides to kill. Such acts are often preceded by years of psychological distress, isolation, hopelessness, or failed care. And these are precisely the areas where we, as a society, are failing. Our mental health care is gutted. Waiting lists are endless. Education is under pressure. Social safety nets are unraveling. People slip through the cracks. And yes, in the end it so often comes down to the same root cause — a financial and political system that measures everything in costs and benefits, rather than in humanity. Why Some See It — and Others Don’t You might wonder: why do some people see the broader patterns, while others remain fixated on the incident? A few thoughts: Conditioning: when people hear the same stories every day, they learn to think in simple binaries — good versus evil, victim versus perpetrator. Fear: it is easier to believe that evil lives outside ourselves. It gives us a sense of control. Free thinking: it takes courage to let go of one’s own beliefs and embrace complexity. Not everyone wants to carry that uncertainty. The system itself: media and politics have a vested interest in keeping our eyes on the individual — not the structure. A scapegoat is easy. A failing system confronts us all. If We Truly Want to Solve It If we genuinely want to prevent this from happening again, we must look beyond cameras and punishment. We must return to the foundation: Mental health: make it accessible, intervene early, not only after it’s too late. Basic security: ensure people don’t drown in debt, despair, or homelessness. Humanity in systems: craft policies that are built around people, not spreadsheets. This requires vision, time, and courage. But it is the only path that leads somewhere real. In the End A young girl is gone. A family is broken. A society mourns. But if we want this to become more than another headline, we must learn to look beyond the individual. Not to excuse the perpetrator, but to understand how someone could fall so far. Not to buy an illusion of safety, but to rebuild the foundation of our shared humanity. Not to trade freedom for control, but to preserve freedom through care, compassion, and connection. #freedom #kill #judgement #care

From Anger to Wisdom — On Autonomy, Trust, and the Right to One’s Own Body There are moments in life when you wake up — not gently, but with a shock. For me, it was the moment I realized that I had allowed something to happen that didn’t feel right. Deep down, I knew it, yet I ignored my intuition — out of love, out of care, out of duty. My wife sensed it immediately. She said: “I’m not getting that shot — it doesn’t feel right.” I, like so many others, wanted to protect her. I thought I was doing the right thing. Until the realization hit me: I had let my own body be poisoned, because I trusted a system that was never built on truth. The anger that followed was immense. Not only towards “them” — the government, the institutions, the corporations that placed profit above humanity — but mostly towards myself. How could I have ignored my own signals? How could I trade my deepest intuition for fear and conformity? Yet that anger became my turning point. I transformed it into strength — the strength of personal responsibility and autonomy. No one will ever again tell me what to do. From now on, I listen to my body, my intuition, my Dao. The system we live in rewards obedience and distrusts intuition. We are taught to rely on experts, data, and protocols — while the human body has known for millions of years what is right. When that inner knowing is drowned out by fear campaigns and marketing, we lose touch with nature itself. Anger, in its purest form, is not destructive — it’s sacred fire. It shows where truth has been ignored and where boundaries were crossed. When you allow it to flow and purify, it becomes fuel — not for revenge, but for healing. It burns away the false, leaving only what is real. That’s where I stand now. Not as a victim, but as a free human being. I no longer place blind trust in systems that protect themselves, but in the quiet wisdom that lives within each of us — the wisdom of nature, the Dao, which needs no proof to be true. #dao #prik #bitcoin #waarheid #freedom

1971 – The Year Money Lost Its Soul A personal reflection by René Beugeling-Ramos My father once said it, with a stern, almost angry look I’ll never forget: “Remember 1971, son. Something happened to gold.” I was just a kid, but I could feel the weight of his words. He wasn’t angry at me — he was angry at what he saw coming. A system breaking away from truth. Only much later did I understand what he meant. In 1971, President Nixon detached the dollar from gold. From that moment on, money was no longer value — it was trust. Paper promises backed not by substance, but by belief. That single act changed everything. It made money fluid, but hollow. My father sensed it instinctively. And decades later, I began to understand it rationally. I dove deep into the world of finance and value. I took a course with Madelon Vos — Build, Protect and Manage Your Wealth. I listened to Bram Kanstein on Bitcoin for Millennials. And I discovered that freedom begins with understanding what money truly is — not what it claims to be, but what it does. For months I studied, listened, and reflected — sometimes even in conversation with AI — not to get rich, but to understand what my father once felt: that something profoundly dishonest had taken place. Today, I see it clearly. Value does not live in numbers or inflation rates, nor in the printed trust of central banks. Value lives in scarcity, honesty, and energy. That’s why I hold some silver, some gold, and above all, Bitcoin. Not out of fear, but out of understanding. Because history teaches us one thing: every time money loses its anchor, humanity must rediscover what is real. My father said it with an angry face. Now I know why. He saw the lie early — and I’m grateful he taught me to look, not at the price, but at the principle. #1971 #btc #goud #nixon #free

🧭 The Gatekeepers of the Internet Freedom begins with responsibility We live in an age where freedom is sold as a subscription. Internet, mobile, television — everything looks like choice, yet in reality, we’re just buying access to gates guarded by a handful of corporations. Vodafone, Ziggo, KPN, Odido… they don’t just manage the network — they define the rules of our digital existence. Who controls the gate, controls the flow. And who controls the flow, shapes behavior. Most people don’t notice. They click “agree,” pay the bill, and believe competition means freedom. But if you read the fine print, the contracts all sound the same: annual “inflation corrections,” the right to change services at any time, and vague clauses about “misuse.” They look like protection, but they’re written for control. ⚙️ Power in a polished suit The gatekeepers are clever. They sell convenience, speed, and “bundle benefits.” And to be fair — it works. Everything connects seamlessly. Until you read the small print and realize that convenience often means dependency. Governments won’t challenge them — they need them. For oversight, for data, for “security.” Corporations and states have become partners — two hands gripping the same cable. 💡 Awareness as resistance True freedom doesn’t begin with protest; it begins with awareness. Not by fighting the system, but by seeing how it operates — and taking responsibility within it. It starts small. Like questioning your phone contract instead of just renewing it. Making a call. Asking questions. Understanding what you’re signing. I learned that lesson myself. A reseller offered a lower price — but with middlemen and complications. Vodafone offered clarity, one invoice, one point of contact. By asking, comparing, and calmly negotiating, I ended up saving money and gaining value. Not because they gave it to me — but because I took responsibility. 💶 The profit of responsibility Responsibility is the new wealth. Those who understand what they sign, who guard their data, who think before they consume — they save money, time, and energy. You don’t have to fight the system to be free. You just have to refuse to be unconscious within it. That’s the silent revolution: one aware consumer at a time. 🌿 Closing thought We won’t overthrow the gatekeepers anytime soon. But we can keep the key in our own hands — through knowledge, awareness, and choice. Freedom isn’t something you’re given. It’s something you practice. “Freedom isn’t a plan — it’s a practice. Awareness is the quiet form of rebellion.” #freedom #bitcoin #gatekeepers #internet

Europe’s Artificial Heartbeat There was a time when nations pulsed with life — with work, creation, and conviction. Now, many of them merely function. France, once the beating heart of Europe, is today a patient on life support — kept alive by a pacemaker called the ECB. The rhythm continues, yes, but the heartbeat is no longer its own. Every pulse is powered by borrowed energy — by debt, stimulus, and the illusion of growth. The body still moves, the markets still tick, politicians still smile on TV. But the soul of the system is gone. France’s public debt has climbed beyond 110% of GDP. Productivity stagnates, industry decays, and yet the state keeps spending money it doesn’t have — not to create, but to delay the inevitable. The European Central Bank steps in with artificial beats: quantitative easing, interest manipulation, emergency funding. But these are not signs of health. They are symptoms of dependence. A pacemaker can maintain rhythm, but it cannot restore life. And when the battery runs out — when trust fades, credit dries up, and energy costs rise — the patient will not recover. The heartbeat will simply stop, and everyone will pretend to be surprised. This is not just about France. It is about Europe as a whole — a continent that once inspired the world with ideas, art, and freedom, now reduced to bureaucracy and balance sheets. A civilization pretending to be alive while quietly decomposing under the weight of its own contradictions. Real life cannot be sustained by central banks or paper money. It requires courage, creativity, and truth — things that cannot be printed, regulated, or subsidized. The battery is fading, the pacemaker is humming, and the patient — Europe — still insists it’s fine. But when the light finally flickers out, we will remember that it wasn’t death that came suddenly — it was life that left long ago. #bitcoin #feance #europa #dead

The Bill of the Rescue When China Sneezes, the World Gets Sick Every economic crisis starts with the same chorus: “The system must not collapse.” And it always ends the same way: the taxpayer picks up the bill. In 2008, it happened in the United States with TARP — the Troubled Asset Relief Program, supposedly designed to save the economy. In reality, it was the beginning of a global habit: governments acting as bad banks, Wall Street’s garbage men. Profits remained private, losses were socialized. Now it’s China’s turn. Its real estate bubble is bursting, local governments are drowning in debt, and the central bank is pumping billions of yuan into the system. It sounds technical, but it’s really simple: they’re printing money to preserve the illusion of stability. It works — for a while. Until it doesn’t. China’s economy is massive. If something breaks there, the entire world feels it — European exports, African commodities, the ports of Rotterdam. The globalization of growth has become the globalization of fragility. “When China sneezes, the world gets a fever.” The irony? We built this system ourselves. We outsourced production, increased dependency, and now act surprised when the source of our comfort starts to crumble. And who pays the price? Not the policymakers. Not the banks. But the people who work, save, pay taxes, and quietly watch their money lose its value. “They cover the hole with our blankets.” We can keep rescuing crises with new money, but one day there’ll be nothing left to borrow, and no one left to believe. Maybe it’s time to stop rescuing, and start healing — by putting truth above profit, and letting value come again from real work and honest money. #Money #bailout #chkn #bitcoin #economie

De Zure Appel Apple is vergeten voor wie ze hun telefoons maken. Wat ooit begon als een droom van vrijheid — technologie in dienst van de mens — is verworden tot een glimmend ecosysteem van controle, abonnementen en verslaving. Het eerste hapje is er al uit. Wat ooit symbool stond voor kennis en vernieuwing, is nu het teken van gemak en gehoorzaamheid geworden. De appel glanst nog, maar van binnen begint hij zacht te worden. Als Apple niet bijstuurt, dan wordt het een zure appel. Je ziet het bij alle grote namen: Nokia, BlackBerry… ze dachten dat hun succes vanzelfsprekend was, tot de wereld veranderde en zij het niet zagen. De klok tikt al richting het klokhuis, daar op het kerkhof der grote merken waar ooit ook idealen rustten. De ironie is dat Apple, het merk dat ooit zei “Think different”, nu vooral wil dat we hetzelfde denken — via dezelfde kabels, dezelfde cloud, en dezelfde updates die onze vrijheid langzaam vervangen door gebruiksgemak. Toch is het nog niet te laat. Want elke appel die rot dreigt te worden, kan opnieuw geplant worden als zaad. Misschien moet er eerst iets afsterven voordat de mens weer centraal komt te staan. #apple #bitcojn #free #Think different

De waarheid die verdwijnt zodra we haar benoemen We leven in een wereld die hunkert naar zekerheid. Politici schermen met cijfers, wetenschappers presenteren data, bedrijven beloven objectieve rapporten. Alles lijkt meetbaar, kwantificeerbaar en controleerbaar. Maar hoe harder we de waarheid willen vastleggen, hoe sneller ze ons ontglipt. Lao Tse zei het al meer dan tweeduizend jaar geleden: “De Dao die benoemd kan worden, is niet de eeuwige Dao.” Zodra we het mysterie van het leven in woorden vangen, reduceren we het tot een concept. De kaart wordt verward met het landschap, de echo met de stem. Wat overblijft, is een afgesneden versie van de werkelijkheid — hanteerbaar, maar nooit volledig. Toch klampen we ons eraan vast. Want consensus voelt veilig: dit is hoe het zit. Tot er een nieuw inzicht komt dat alles op losse schroeven zet. Vaak wordt dat nieuwe inzicht niet verwelkomd, maar bestreden. Niet omdat het per se onwaar is, maar omdat het gevaarlijk is voor gevestigde belangen. Denk aan Galileo die zag wat niet gezien mocht worden, of aan Pasteur, wiens kiemtheorie zo fundamenteel is geworden dat het haast ondenkbaar is dat er ooit een correctie op volgt. Waar waarheid ooit een proces was, wordt ze zo een dogma. En juist daar gaat het mis. Want waarheid die vastgezet wordt, verstikt vooruitgang. Data is nooit absoluut: de harde data van gisteren kan de zwakke data van vandaag zijn. Consensus is niet meer dan een tijdelijke afspraak, altijd onder voorbehoud van nieuwe inzichten. Het systeem verdedigt vaak zichzelf, niet de waarheid. Misschien moeten we accepteren dat er geen absolute waarheid bestaat zolang we het leven zelf niet begrijpen. Dat klinkt ongemakkelijk, maar het is ook bevrijdend. Het nodigt ons uit om open te blijven, om niet te hechten aan wat vandaag zeker lijkt, maar ruimte te laten voor wat morgen onthuld kan worden. De enige echte waarheid is misschien wel dit: dat de waarheid nooit bezit kan worden. Ze leeft in het mysterie, voorbij de woorden. En wie dat beseft, hoeft niet bang te zijn voor twijfe

Data, consensus en de macht van het gelijk We spreken vaak over harde data, alsof cijfers en grafieken de werkelijkheid vastspijkeren in beton. Maar data is nooit harder dan de context waarin ze verzameld wordt. Het is een momentopname, een consensus van toen. Wat gisteren overtuigend bewijs leek, kan vandaag alweer wankelen onder nieuwe inzichten. Wetenschap is in wezen geen verzameling waarheden, maar een proces. Een voortdurend spel van meten, twijfelen, corrigeren en opnieuw beginnen. Toch behandelen we consensus vaak alsof het de eindbestemming is. Zodra een meerderheid of een machtig instituut zegt: dit is de waarheid, wordt twijfel al snel gezien als gevaar. En daar wringt het. Want nieuwe inzichten komen zelden op een geschikt moment voor de gevestigde orde. Ze bedreigen reputaties, carrières en structuren die gebouwd zijn op het oude gelijk. Denk aan Galileo, die zag wat niet gezien mocht worden. Denk aan Pasteur: stel dat zijn kiemtheorie niet volledig juist is, wat gebeurt er dan met een hele medische wereld die daarop leunt? De neiging om consensus te beschermen is menselijk. Het biedt zekerheid en houvast. Maar zodra consensus een dogma wordt, verstikt ze juist datgene wat haar groot maakt: de ruimte om zich te laten corrigeren. Dan verdedigt het systeem niet langer de waarheid, maar zichzelf. De paradox is helder: vooruitgang vraagt loslaten. Maar systemen die gebouwd zijn op oude zekerheden zullen alles doen om dat loslaten tegen te houden. De waarheid wordt dan niet onderdrukt omdat ze onjuist is, maar omdat ze ontwrichtend is. Wie werkelijk vrij wil denken, moet dit onderscheid leren zien. Data is een wegwijzer, geen altaar. Consensus is een afspraak, geen eeuwige wet. En waar macht zich vastklampt aan gelijk, ligt vaak de kiem van een nieuw inzicht dat wacht om door te breken.

De NCTV schuift richting een Nederlandse Stasi De Nationale Coördinator Terrorismebestrijding en Veiligheid (NCTV) werd in 2005 opgericht na 9/11 en de moord op Theo van Gogh. Het doel was overzicht: een orgaan dat ministeries, politie en inlichtingendiensten op één lijn bracht en het dreigingsbeeld inzichtelijk maakte. Coördinatie, niet opsporing. Maar vijftien jaar later zien we een gevaarlijk andere realiteit. Uit onderzoek van journalisten bleek dat de NCTV jarenlang burgers, activisten en moskeeën op sociale media volgde, zonder wettelijke grondslag. In plaats van deze praktijken te stoppen, werkt de politiek nu hard om de bevoegdheden van de NCTV achteraf te legaliseren. De coördinator verandert langzaam in een uitvoerende inlichtingendienst — zonder de klassieke waarborgen van toezicht en verantwoording. Het glijdende pad Dit is een bekend patroon. Eerst een tijdelijke maatregel, dan een “noodzakelijke” uitzondering, en uiteindelijk een permanente bevoegdheid. Elk incident of dreiging wordt aangegrepen om méér macht vast te leggen. En geen enkele politicus wil het risico lopen dat “hun” veiligheidsorgaan wordt afgeschaft. Veiligheid verkoopt, ook al is absolute veiligheid een illusie. Het gevaar is niet denkbeeldig. Wie de geschiedenis kent, weet hoe in de DDR de Stasi begon als bescherming tegen vijanden van de staat, maar eindigde als een alomtegenwoordig controle-apparaat dat het maatschappelijk weefsel vergiftigde. Nee, Nederland is de DDR niet — maar de mechanismen van macht en zelfbehoud zijn universeel. Veiligheid zonder vrijheid is schijnveiligheid Natuurlijk moeten we alert zijn op terrorisme en geweld. Maar een samenleving die vrijheid opoffert voor een gevoel van veiligheid verliest uiteindelijk beide. Echte veiligheid ontstaat niet door iedereen te monitoren, maar door burgers perspectief, vertrouwen en verantwoordelijkheid te geven. Als de NCTV werkelijk een coördinator wil zijn, moet het strikt blijven bij die rol: analyseren, verbinden, adviseren. Voor opsporing en inlichtingen bestaan de AIVD en MIVD — mét toezicht, hoe gebrekkig ook. Zodra de NCTV zich buiten dat kader beweegt, is het aan de politiek om paal en perk te stellen. Tijd voor grenzen Wat nodig is, is niet méér bevoegdheden, maar duidelijke grenzen: Onafhankelijk parlementair toezicht. Strikte datalimieten en bewaartermijnen. Jaarlijkse, publieke verantwoording. Sunset-clausules: tijdelijke bevoegdheden vervallen tenzij actief verlengd. Zonder die waarborgen bewegen we richting een orgaan dat geen verantwoording hoeft af te leggen — en dan is de vergelijking met de Stasi opeens niet meer zo ver gezocht. De vraag is simpel: willen we een samenleving die haar burgers behandelt als potentiële bedreiging, of één die vrijheid en vertrouwen als basis neemt? 👉 Wil je dat ik dit stuk ook kort herschrijf naar een LinkedIn-post of X-bericht (meer compact, krachtig en deelbaar)? ChatGPT kan fouten maken. Controleer belangrijke informatie. Zie cookievoorkeuren.

Amsterdam verdient beter dan een zadelbewaker Amsterdam is door de eeuwen heen een vrijdenkend bolwerk geweest. Een stad waar andersdenkenden, kunstenaars, dromers en vrijheidszoekers hun plek vonden. Waar ruimte was om te experimenteren, te falen, opnieuw te beginnen. Waar de kracht lag in het gedogen en in het vertrouwen dat vrijheid uiteindelijk meer oplevert dan controle. Juist daarom schuurt het onder het burgemeesterschap van Femke Halsema. Zij lijkt niet de ziel van de stad te bewaken, maar haar eigen positie. Ze is voorbestemd — onderdeel van een systeem dat zichzelf in stand houdt — en staat slechts datgene toe wat haar in het zadel houdt. Waar Amsterdam hunkert naar lucht en ruimte, kiest Halsema voor beheersing en regels. Waar de stad altijd bekendstond om haar vrijzinnigheid, werd tijdens haar ambtstermijn demonstreren vaak ontmoedigd of hardhandig beëindigd. Het gedogen, ooit de glans van Amsterdam, maakt plaats voor een bestuurlijke kramp. Een burgemeester van Amsterdam zou beschermer moeten zijn van de vrijheid. Geen zadelbewaker, maar iemand die durft te staan voor het onvoorspelbare, het creatieve, het ongepolijste. Want dát is de ziel van deze stad. Amsterdam verdient een burgemeester die niet bang is voor vrije geesten, maar ze juist omarmt.

✉️ Brief aan mijn kleinkinderen Lieve kleinkinderen, Ik schrijf jullie met spijt in mijn hart. Want ik heb het allemaal zien gebeuren — en deels zelfs meegemaakt. De verschuiving, de transformatie, de grote illusie. Ooit waren de nutsvoorzieningen van ons allemaal: energie, water, post, spoor. Ze waren gebouwd om ons te dienen, niet om winst te maken. Toen kwam de privatisering — verkocht als vooruitgang, maar in werkelijkheid een uitverkoop. Wat van ons allemaal was, werd leeggezogen door aandeelhouders. Ik heb de gemeenten zien fuseren, schaal op schaal. Klein werd groot, dichtbij werd ver weg. Tegelijk kregen ze er steeds meer taken bij: zorg, jeugdzorg, participatie. Maar nooit de middelen. Dus gingen de gemeentebelastingen omhoog. Ik heb de zorg zien veranderen. Van een trots systeem, gedragen door betrokken mensen, naar een hoofdpijndossier vol formulieren, managers en wachtlijsten. Waar vroeger de patiënt centraal stond, staat nu de DBC centraal: een code, een administratief product. En verpleegkundigen lopen tegenwoordig letterlijk met een iPad op hun arm, niet om betere zorg te geven, maar om elke minuut te registreren, elke seconde verantwoord te maken voor een systeem dat meer waarde hecht aan vinkjes dan aan mensen. En al die tijd werd ons verteld dat dit de prijs van vooruitgang was. Maar wat laten wij werkelijk achter voor jullie? Een aarde die zwaar overbelast is. Een berg schuld, financieel én ecologisch, die jullie moeten dragen. Een klimaatprobleem dat niet met mooie woorden verdwijnt. Een overheidsapparaat dat meer lijkt te bestaan voor zichzelf dan voor de burger. Leeggehaalde nutsbedrijven, waar jullie meer betalen voor minder. En kijk om je heen: na al die miljarden, al die hervormingen, al die managers en commissies… de trein rijdt nog steeds vijf minuten te laat. Met spijt moet ik zeggen: een kleine groep heeft er macht en rijkdom bij gekregen, terwijl de samenleving armer is geworden. Maar lieve kinderen, weet dit: het hoeft niet zo te blijven. Er is een andere weg. Een weg van verantwoordelijkheid, eerlijkheid en gemeenschap. Een weg waar geld weer hard en eerlijk is, waar niemand stiekem meer kan afpakken via inflatie of schuld. Daarom noem ik jullie dit woord: Bitcoin. Geen tovermiddel, geen sprookje, maar een kans. Een kans op een systeem dat niet kan liegen, niet kan worden bijgedrukt, en waar de regels voor iedereen gelijk zijn. Ik hoop dat jullie begrijpen dat mijn spijt niet genoeg is. Maar misschien kunnen jullie, met meer wijsheid en moed, kiezen voor wat wél werkt. Met liefde en een zwaar maar hoopvol hart, jullie opa. #bitcoin #goudstandaard #kleinkinderen #economie