Why I Build Instead of Campaign

They asked me to delete the tweet.

It was 2021, and I was working with a political party in Ireland. I’d joined because I believed they actually cared about freedom—pushing back against lockdown authoritarianism, defending civil liberties, opposing the surveillance infrastructure being normalized under the guise of public health. I’d built them a digital voting system. I was active, engaged, convinced that electoral politics could make a difference.

Then I shared a link to the Unabomber manifesto on Twitter.

Not because I endorsed bombing anyone. Because it contained one of the most prescient analyses of how technological systems absorb individuals and reshape society—directly relevant to what we were living through. The surveillance apparatus being normalized. The digital ID frameworks being quietly deployed. The entire social contract being rewritten in real-time.

The party leadership was concerned. It makes us look bad, they said. Could you take it down?

Over a year later, one of them sent me an email: Elon Musk had tweeted the exact same thing. Same manifesto. Same link. Suddenly it was acceptable—not because the ideas changed, but because someone with more clout said them.

That moment clarified something for me. This wasn’t about principle. It was about optics, about what was politically safe to say. And if I didn’t have Elon’s following, my ideas were liability, not contribution.

The Journey Into Politics

I didn’t start as a cynic. I came to Ireland in 2020 and immediately found myself in a world where the state had decided it could dictate whether you could leave your house, operate your business, or see your family. The COVID response wasn’t about health—it was a dry run for permanent control infrastructure.

So I did what people do when they want to change things: I got involved.

I joined a political party in 2020 because they were publicly opposing the overreach. I built tools for them. I created MyCompass.ie, a business directory for the 180+ Irish businesses that refused to implement vaccine passports, mask mandates, or go cashless-only. It gained real traction—I was even invited to testify at the Irish Inquiry, an interview that’s still on YouTube.

By 2022, I’d left the party. The contradictions between stated principles and actual practice had become too clear.

Later, in 2023, I went back to South Africa and got involved with another political movement.

I launched a podcast called Stateless, commenting on current events from an anarchist and agorist perspective. I wrote articles.

I handed out fliers, engaged with organizers, thought maybe the problem was specific to Ireland. Maybe elsewhere, the people were more committed to actual principles.

It wasn’t.

The Realizations

The first party, despite its rhetoric, wasn’t ultimately about the kind of freedom I was interested in. The contradictions between stated principles and actual practice became impossible to ignore.

The South African experience was different. The people there weren’t necessarily statist—many genuinely believed in limiting government power. But the process itself was ineffective. Well-meaning people distributing fliers and hoping for electoral change, not understanding that the system itself is designed to absorb and neutralize exactly this kind of opposition.

You can’t vote your way out of authoritarianism when the mechanisms of control are baked into the infrastructure.

And my podcast? Stateless was too radical, apparently. It invited heat I didn’t expect—active personal sabotage, attempts to shut it down, people treating political commentary as if it were incitement. In the end, it was just adding more noise to an already deafening conversation. No outcomes. Just performance.

I took it down.

The Pivot

Here’s what I learned: political organizing is largely theatre.

You can write articles, record podcasts, hand out fliers, build voting systems for parties that claim to want freedom—and at the end of it, you’re still asking permission. You’re still operating within a framework designed to absorb dissent and render it harmless.

The state doesn’t care if you vote against it. Voting legitimizes the system. Complaining about surveillance while using Gmail and Facebook is performance, not resistance.

Real resistance is building alternatives.

So I stopped campaigning and started building.

I redirected the business directory structure I’d created for MyCompass.ie toward a Monero directory—infrastructure for parallel economy businesses that operate outside state financial surveillance. I shifted focus to what I’m actually good at: Linux systems administration, encryption, privacy infrastructure, self-hosted alternatives to Big Tech platforms.

I’m learning C and C++ so I can contribute to Monero core. Not just use it—actually improve the code that protects financial privacy. I want to help build exchange infrastructure, payment gateways, and networks. Eventually, I’d even like to see Monero lobbied as a national currency alternative—not because I trust states, but because reducing their monetary control is a step toward obsolescence.

Every encrypted email server I deploy is a vote against surveillance that actually counts. Every self-hosted platform is an exit from corporate control. Every Monero transaction is a repudiation of central bank digital currencies.

This is more effective than any podcast episode or campaign flier I ever distributed.

What I Actually Believe

My political philosophy hasn’t changed. I still believe in voluntary cooperation over coercion. I still oppose authoritarianism in all its forms—whether it’s waving a pride flag or a national one. I still want to see a stateless world, or at least one where state power is so diminished it becomes irrelevant.

But I’m not naive. States won’t simply disappear because we wish them away. If a libertarian politician like Milei in Argentina slashes government spending and reduces state control, I’m not going to oppose that because it uses “the system.” If a movement like Ireland’s spoiled vote campaign shows that a majority can actively reject state power and force real discussion, that’s valuable.

I’m not opposed to using state mechanisms against themselves. I’m just done pretending that’s the primary path to freedom.

The Real Work

The state is building infrastructure for total control: digital IDs, central bank digital currencies, algorithmic censorship, financial surveillance. They’re not asking permission. They’re just deploying it.

We need to build faster.

Not louder. Not with more persuasive arguments or better campaign strategies. With actual infrastructure that makes their systems optional.

Encrypted communication that they can’t intercept. Financial networks they can’t control. Identity systems that don’t require their permission. Platforms that can’t be deplatformed.

The parallel economy isn’t a theory. It’s a practical necessity. And it needs people who can build the technical foundation.

That’s what I do now.

Why I’m Telling You This

This article exists because my past is public. My Twitter was political. I ran a podcast. I was involved with parties. Anyone who looks me up will find that history.

I’m not apologizing for it. I’m contextualizing it.

I was politically active because I saw massive state overreach—lockdowns, surveillance, digital ID rollouts, the hijacking of currency—and I tried to fight it the way people are told to fight: through political engagement, public discourse, grassroots organizing.

I learned that approach is mostly ineffective. So I pivoted to what actually works: building tools that make state permission irrelevant.

My politics haven’t changed. My methods have.

I’m not making angry podcasts anymore. I’m not handing out fliers. I’m not asking parties to be more consistent about freedom.

I’m building infrastructure for people who’ve realized that permission isn’t coming and who are ready to build without it.

If you’re working on cryptocurrency projects, privacy tech, parallel economy businesses, or decentralized platforms—if you need infrastructure that doesn’t depend on state or corporate approval—this is what I do.

I don’t campaign for freedom anymore.

I build it.