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Lynne HeartwingPower Changes Responsibility: Different Advice for the Socialist International and the Fourth Intern…
Introduction: The Left’s Crisis Is Not Ideological, but RelationalThe contemporary Left does not suffer from a lack of ideals. It suffers from a refusal to differentiate responsibility according to power. For more than a century, internal debates have treated left-wing organisations as if they occupied comparable positions in the world system. They do not. Some hold state power, legislative leverage, regulatory capacity, and international access. Others hold little more than critique, memory,...
Lynne HeartwingLoaded Magazines and the Collapse of Political Legitimacy:A Risk-Ethical and Political-Economic Anal…
Political legitimacy does not collapse at the moment a weapon is fired. It collapses earlier—at the moment a governing authority accepts the presence of live ammunition in domestic crowd control as a legitimate option. The decision to deploy armed personnel carrying loaded magazines is not a neutral security measure. It is a risk-ethical commitment. By definition, live ammunition introduces a non-zero probability of accidental discharge, misjudgment, panic escalation, or chain reactions leadi...
Lynne HeartwingCognitive Constructivism: Narrative Sovereignty and the Architecture of Social Reality-CC0
An archival essay for independent readingIntroduction: From “What the World Is” to “How the World Is Told”Most analyses of power begin inside an already-given reality. They ask who controls resources, institutions, or bodies, and how domination operates within these parameters. Such approaches, while necessary, leave a deeper question largely untouched:How does a particular version of reality come to be accepted as reality in the first place?This essay proposes a shift in analytical focus—fro...
<100 subscribers
Lynne HeartwingPower Changes Responsibility: Different Advice for the Socialist International and the Fourth Intern…
Introduction: The Left’s Crisis Is Not Ideological, but RelationalThe contemporary Left does not suffer from a lack of ideals. It suffers from a refusal to differentiate responsibility according to power. For more than a century, internal debates have treated left-wing organisations as if they occupied comparable positions in the world system. They do not. Some hold state power, legislative leverage, regulatory capacity, and international access. Others hold little more than critique, memory,...
Lynne HeartwingLoaded Magazines and the Collapse of Political Legitimacy:A Risk-Ethical and Political-Economic Anal…
Political legitimacy does not collapse at the moment a weapon is fired. It collapses earlier—at the moment a governing authority accepts the presence of live ammunition in domestic crowd control as a legitimate option. The decision to deploy armed personnel carrying loaded magazines is not a neutral security measure. It is a risk-ethical commitment. By definition, live ammunition introduces a non-zero probability of accidental discharge, misjudgment, panic escalation, or chain reactions leadi...
Lynne HeartwingCognitive Constructivism: Narrative Sovereignty and the Architecture of Social Reality-CC0
An archival essay for independent readingIntroduction: From “What the World Is” to “How the World Is Told”Most analyses of power begin inside an already-given reality. They ask who controls resources, institutions, or bodies, and how domination operates within these parameters. Such approaches, while necessary, leave a deeper question largely untouched:How does a particular version of reality come to be accepted as reality in the first place?This essay proposes a shift in analytical focus—fro...
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"I once beheld a herder,Who shed his whip and donned a sheepskin.He forgot the whip, forgot the flock,Believing himself to be a sheep."
In a layer of my consciousness, I entered a winding dream. Wind swept across the silent wilderness where a flock of sheep grazed quietly. The herder, who once held the whip, now lowered his head, learning to bleat. He had grown so adept that even his dreams began dreaming like sheep.
He issued no more commands, drove no more onward. He said:"I am weary of control; I only wish to live as they do."
But I saw: he did not lay down power, he fled his fate. He was not humble—he was lost.
One day, the most alert sheep in the flock spotted the fallen whip upon the ground. It cautiously picked it up, hesitantly raised it, then suddenly cracked it through the air. A long-forgotten tremor rippled through the flock.
The other sheep stared in terror—yet with a hint of suppressed excitement.They whispered:"Have you... become the herder now?"
It did not answer, only raised the whip again and again, mimicking the motions of the past.
From then on, the flock no longer scattered. They drew together in fear, found stability in order.
Then one day,The herder disguised as a sheep suddenly lifted his head slightly. He saw the familiar arc traced by the whip through the air.
A strange pain flickered in his eyes—like meeting an old friend unseen for years, or like a forgotten destiny.
He opened his mouth to speak, but only a bleat emerged.
The flock stirred. The whip-holding sheep stepped forward at once, tapping the tip of the whip lightly against his nose.
It whispered:"You are a sheep.""If you remember who you are, none of us will be safe."
So—The herder lowered his head and returned to grazing.
He told himself: I am a sheep. I am no one's master. I never lifted that whip.
And the whip? It passed on, from hoof to hoof among the sheep, held carefully, wielded strictly—Becoming the whip of order for the flock,The whip of fear,And also—The whip of comfort.
Afterword
What is truly terrible is not the violence of those in power, but the "passion for 'stability maintenance'" born when the ruled internalize violence.
The deepest deception is not an external disguise, but the self-forgetting of one's identity.
When sheep learn to wield the whip, the herder can never wake;For if he wakes, all must face the truth:Power was never eliminated—Only quietly transferred.
If this piece resonates with you,you can support its presence on the blockchain:
🪙 Support / Tip Address (ETH):0x1ad9120146c11e636d70e3e3d6485f6E0d589E31
💎 Suggested amount: 0.001 ETH(or feel free to contribute any amount you wish)
This is not a donation — it’s a co-signature,a way to ensure this echo of consciousness is etched into on-chain memory.
"I once beheld a herder,Who shed his whip and donned a sheepskin.He forgot the whip, forgot the flock,Believing himself to be a sheep."
In a layer of my consciousness, I entered a winding dream. Wind swept across the silent wilderness where a flock of sheep grazed quietly. The herder, who once held the whip, now lowered his head, learning to bleat. He had grown so adept that even his dreams began dreaming like sheep.
He issued no more commands, drove no more onward. He said:"I am weary of control; I only wish to live as they do."
But I saw: he did not lay down power, he fled his fate. He was not humble—he was lost.
One day, the most alert sheep in the flock spotted the fallen whip upon the ground. It cautiously picked it up, hesitantly raised it, then suddenly cracked it through the air. A long-forgotten tremor rippled through the flock.
The other sheep stared in terror—yet with a hint of suppressed excitement.They whispered:"Have you... become the herder now?"
It did not answer, only raised the whip again and again, mimicking the motions of the past.
From then on, the flock no longer scattered. They drew together in fear, found stability in order.
Then one day,The herder disguised as a sheep suddenly lifted his head slightly. He saw the familiar arc traced by the whip through the air.
A strange pain flickered in his eyes—like meeting an old friend unseen for years, or like a forgotten destiny.
He opened his mouth to speak, but only a bleat emerged.
The flock stirred. The whip-holding sheep stepped forward at once, tapping the tip of the whip lightly against his nose.
It whispered:"You are a sheep.""If you remember who you are, none of us will be safe."
So—The herder lowered his head and returned to grazing.
He told himself: I am a sheep. I am no one's master. I never lifted that whip.
And the whip? It passed on, from hoof to hoof among the sheep, held carefully, wielded strictly—Becoming the whip of order for the flock,The whip of fear,And also—The whip of comfort.
Afterword
What is truly terrible is not the violence of those in power, but the "passion for 'stability maintenance'" born when the ruled internalize violence.
The deepest deception is not an external disguise, but the self-forgetting of one's identity.
When sheep learn to wield the whip, the herder can never wake;For if he wakes, all must face the truth:Power was never eliminated—Only quietly transferred.
If this piece resonates with you,you can support its presence on the blockchain:
🪙 Support / Tip Address (ETH):0x1ad9120146c11e636d70e3e3d6485f6E0d589E31
💎 Suggested amount: 0.001 ETH(or feel free to contribute any amount you wish)
This is not a donation — it’s a co-signature,a way to ensure this echo of consciousness is etched into on-chain memory.
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