One of the most repeated narratives around Ethereum is that it is “digital gasoline.” This framing, while useful in the early days to explain how the network fuels decentralized computation, has become strategically limiting. Gasoline is a commodity—fungible, inert, and destined to decline in importance as better technologies replace it. Ethereum, on the other hand, is a living, evolving digital nation whose survival depends on its ability to keep innovating.

The subtraction philosophy that guides the Ethereum Foundation was conceived with noble intentions. It was built on the principle that no single organization should control a decentralized protocol. Over time, the Foundation would “subtract” itself from the equation—delegating responsibilities, minimizing influence, and allowing the network to function autonomously.

This roadmap envisions an endgame where Ethereum becomes fully ossified—a self-sustaining, neutral infrastructure requiring little or no human coordination. From a purely ideological standpoint, this is elegant. From a pragmatic standpoint, it may be fatal.

A fully ossified Ethereum risks becoming what it was never meant to be: a static open-source project like Wikipedia, sustained by donations rather than driven by growth. The Foundation’s limited treasury and lack of recurring revenues reinforce this destiny. But Ethereum is not a digital encyclopedia—it is the foundation of a new global economy.

If we accept the analogy of Ethereum as a nation, then a nation without a budget cannot survive. There has never been a country that evolved without at least a minimal structure to fund its innovation and defense. In a world where technological competitiveness defines survival, Ethereum cannot afford to lack the best technologists in the world continuously improving its infrastructure.

Ethereum’s economic design reflects the same idealism that drives its governance model. The decision to reduce ETH’s demand—by minimizing fees and burning a portion of them—was intended to maximize network growth and user accessibility. Ironically, it led to one of the largest declines in the asset’s value, as the protocol’s own demand collapsed.

If ETH is the currency of this digital economy, reducing its purchasing power erodes the financial resources of every participant in the ecosystem. It’s the equivalent of a nation whose currency suddenly loses its value—everything else collapses along with it.

True neutrality does not emerge from the absence of human participation but from the proper design of incentives and governance. Ethereum does not need to vanish into abstraction; it needs to evolve into a sustainable system—one capable of funding, compensating, and coordinating its best contributors while maintaining decentralization and fairness.

The network fees that today sustain validators could also support a broader ecosystem of engineers and researchers, ensuring that Ethereum continues to innovate instead of merely preserving itself.

Perhaps it’s time to redefine what Ethereum truly is. Not a commodity. Not a gasoline. But a digital nation—an economy with a mission, a culture, and a shared purpose. Its currency, ETH, should not only secure the network but finance its evolution.

The Foundation’s subtraction may have been the right first step to ensure decentralization. But the next step must be addition—of sustainable funding, of human ingenuity, and of a renewed sense of collective purpose.