WLFI: POLITICS IN SHITCOIN
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Crypto has already seen all sorts of illusions parade through its ranks. Promises of automatic returns, magical algorithms supposed to stabilize the unstable, utility tokens that were only useful in marketing pitches. But in 2025, a new frontier has been crossed: politics itself has been tokenized. World Liberty Financial, WLFI, is not just another shitcoin. It is a complete caricature of the times, an electoral product disguised as a financial asset, a campaign poster transformed into a line of code. Its existence says less about the technology than about the cynicism of those who created it, and the naiveté of those who believed in it.
It's no coincidence that WLFI was born in the United States, the cradle of political spectacle and spectacle-finance. In this country where television has transformed election campaigns into shows, where advertising has taken precedence over ideas, where celebrity is sometimes enough to create presidents, it was logical that the next step would be the creation of an electoral token. Three words were enough: World, Liberty, Financial. Three words like an incantation. Who could oppose the world? Who would dare say no to freedom? Who would refuse finance? It's not a technological project, it's a hypnotic formula. We're not selling an innovation, we're selling an emotion, a flag, a slogan. WLFI is political marketing taken to its paroxysm: transforming the dream of freedom into a stock ticker.
Behind this facade lies a simple mechanism: the exploitation of greed. WLFI's promoters knew that in a market hungry for novelty, where speculators hunt for the next pump, all it took was a powerful name to attract crowds. It didn't matter if the code was banal, that it offered no breakthroughs, that it met no concrete needs. Simply associating the word “liberty” with a political figure was enough to set social media ablaze. Within hours, hundreds of millions of dollars were already circulating in derivatives on an asset that didn't yet exist. It was the ultimate version of a casino: betting on shadows, speculating on promises, banking on the aura of a name.
This launch was a perfect demonstration of the confusion. CoinMarketCap was showing a sharp drop, Binance was announcing a rise, Crypto.com was talking about stability, CoinGecko was stuck at zero. Never before had an asset so clearly embodied the absurdity of numbers in crypto. Everyone saw what they wanted to see, everyone displayed their own data, and amidst this chaos, narrative dominated reality. Those who wanted to believe in a revolution cited Binance, those who wanted to expose a scam cited CoinMarketCap. The truth didn't matter; what mattered was the story you could tell. And that's what WLFI understood: in a saturated market, technical truth has no value, only the power of the story matters.
But this narrative was not neutral. Unlike other shitcoins born of pure speculative madness, WLFI carried a political agenda. Behind the inflated figures, behind the massive unlocks and opaque deals, there was a clear strategy: to transform political influence into immediate capital. Where once campaigns collected donations, today they issue tokens. Where once slogans were printed on posters, today they are inscribed on the blockchain. Politics no longer seeks only to convince, it seeks to monetize. WLFI is not a currency; it is a machine for transforming partisan fervor into speculative liquidity.
This trend isn't new. Already, during previous campaigns, we've seen candidate-branded memecoins emerge. MAGA Coin, for example, created an illusion for a few weeks before disappearing into indifference. But WLFI takes it a step further: it presents itself not as a joke, but as a serious project, supported by institutional deals, with an instant valuation of several billion. This is no longer humor; it's cold cynicism. We're not offering a wink to supporters; we're selling them an asset. And in this process, politics is reduced to a commodity like any other, interchangeable with any derivative product.
What is most striking is the contrast with Bitcoin. Where WLFI invents a grandiloquent narrative, Bitcoin has always been content with the sobriety of code. Where WLFI depends on a public figure and a family clan, Bitcoin belongs to no one. Where WLFI promises a golden tomorrow without effort, Bitcoin requires patience, discipline, and understanding. One is a slogan, the other a mathematical truth. One is a temporary illusion, the other an incorruptible reality. Observing WLFI, we measure even more forcefully what makes Bitcoin unique: it doesn't need propaganda, it doesn't need a leader, it doesn't need to seduce. It is.
Yet, despite the evidence, thousands of people have flocked to WLFI. Some out of greed, hoping to multiply their stakes by a hundred or a thousand. Others out of political conviction, believing they were supporting a cause by purchasing a token. The former will end up ruined, the latter disillusioned. Because the mechanics are always the same: an initial pump orchestrated by insiders, followed by a massive dump on the backs of the naive. The unlocked tokens fuel selling pressure, the artificial volumes mask the weakness in liquidity, and little by little the asset fades away. We already know the ending of the film, only the date of the credits remains unknown.
But we must look beyond simple fraud. WLFI is a symptom of an era where everything is becoming a commodity, where even freedom and politics are sold like financial products. It is the natural extension of a system that has transformed information into advertising, culture into content, attention into capital. Politics is no exception to this logic: it becomes a token, a line in a portfolio, an asset that is traded like loyalty points. It is the triumph of cynicism: no need to convince, all that is needed is to sell.
This transformation has far-reaching consequences. For by reducing politics to a commodity, we also reduce democracy to an illusion. If slogans become tokens, if campaigns become ICOs, if voters become investors, then politics is no longer a debate of ideas but a battle for liquidity. Whoever has the most capital can create the most tokens, buy the most visibility, and manipulate the most prices. It is no longer the voice of the people that matters, but the power of the market. Democracy dissolves into speculation.
This is why Bitcoin remains a valuable anomaly. In a world where everything is for sale, Bitcoin cannot be bought. It doesn't flatter, it doesn't promise, it belongs to no one. It imposes its rules equally on everyone, without favoritism, without special treatment. It doesn't need marketing, it doesn't need leaders. Its strength lies in its centerlessness, in its resistance to exploitation. Where WLFI demonstrates the cynicism of our times, Bitcoin is its radical counterbalance. It reminds us that there are still things that escape manipulation, things that don't bend to spectacle.
WLFI will disappear, like all shitcoins before it. Maybe in a few months, maybe in a few weeks. But its fall will leave a mark: that of a time when politics attempted to transform itself into a financial product, and when thousands of people believed that owning a token was tantamount to defending a cause. This mark will serve as a warning. Every generation needs its Bitconnect, its Luna, its FTT. WLFI is the political Bitconnect, the electoral shitcoin, the mirror of an era when even freedom was sold by the kilo.
And when this illusion has dissipated, when disappointed investors have realized that they have only supported a mirage, Bitcoin will remain. Implacable, silent, incorruptible. The only asset that does not depend on any clan, any campaign, any family. The only one that is not a slogan, but a truth. The only one that does not disappear into the dust. And perhaps it is there, in this contrast, that the true utility of WLFI lies: to remind us, through its cynicism, what real value is.
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