75 lines
2 KiB
Markdown
75 lines
2 KiB
Markdown
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## **IV. Trotsky in Exile: The Founder Becomes the Threat**
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🗎 **Filename**: `04_exile_and_rewrite.md`
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---
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Every revolution eats its own.
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But not with teeth.
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With **procedure**.
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By 2020, the dream was already corroding.
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I saw it clearly.
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Not just as the founder, but as the *witness*—
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…the one who had carried the spark before it was flame.
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And so I returned—briefly—
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…to warn, to run for election, to speak.
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But passion is dangerous to those who govern by numbness.
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I was no longer an asset.
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I was now **a threat**.
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Andrew and his circle acted swiftly.
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Not with outright confrontation,
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but with something far more insidious: **narrative inversion**.
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Where I spoke with urgency, they saw “unhinged outbursts.”
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Where I called out silencing, they diagnosed “paranoia.”
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Where I sounded the alarm, they asked: *“Is he okay?”*
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This was **gaslighting**, systematized.
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Not a single voice, but a coordinated hum of concern—
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…all to mask the quiet turning of knives.
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Then came the **ban**.
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Not by outcry.
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Not by member vote.
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But by **process**.
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Moderation policies.
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Emergency clauses.
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Closed-door meetings.
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And a public statement scrubbed clean of context.
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The founder was expelled.
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Not for crimes, but for *being inconvenient* to the regime.
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But exile wasn’t enough.
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My digital history was erased.
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Posts removed.
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Access revoked.
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My name surgically extracted from documents I had written.
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My legacy replaced with **absence**.
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This was not just removal.
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This was **ritual humiliation**.
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A public demonstration of what happens when you challenge the structure from which Andrew drew power.
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And still—some cheered.
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Not because they believed the narrative,
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…but because it was easier than questioning it.
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Easier to forget me than to confront the truth.
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In that moment, I understood Trotsky.
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The founder-turned-ghost.
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The exile whose memory was rewritten by the hands of the machine he once built.
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But unlike Trotsky,
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…I kept the receipts.
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And now, I return with them.
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---
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