The Pigsty Paradox
A paradox is a contradiction that arises while maintaining logical consistency in reasoning
Every day, when scrolling through Telegram channels and chats, one can observe the same scene:
Users relentlessly criticize the ecosystem, accusing projects of scams and dubbing our ecosystem with the unpleasant nickname: “pigsty.”
At first glance, it might seem that people have reached their limit — deeply disappointed and about to leave. Second-rate channels churn out identical headlines: “It’s over, TON is finished.”
But if you look even a little broader, you notice a paradox:
Those same critics, haters, and Telegram’s biggest detractors mindlessly drop their referral links in chats, flood channels when a new project launches, sell advertising there — all while not forgetting to buy new stickers and gifts themselves.
How can this be? Why? TON is a scam and a pigsty!
It turns into a strange closed loop: they simultaneously bash the TON ecosystem and cannot tear themselves away from it.
Why does this happen? Why does the community call its native ecosystem a “stinky pigsty” but not leave it? Let’s analyze with examples and explore the psychology behind this phenomenon.
What do NOTCOIN and gifts have to do with it?
NOTCOIN is the brightest case study of the TON ecosystem, worthy of a separate article.
The idea of NOTCOIN is ridiculously simple and far from new, which caused tons of skepticism and doubt. People contemptuously called NOT “wrappers” and predicted the project’s failure.
But what actually happened? The project launched in early 2024 and instantly went viral.
And when NOTCOIN hit the exchanges… well, you remember. The haters were crushed.
Ultimately, Notcoin became not just a game but a mass social phenomenon in TON: it brought tens of millions of people into the ecosystem, even though half of them initially insisted it was a meaningless scam.
It had a simple scenario. First, the community groans: “Why do we need this junk?” But once teased with free tokens and a chance for quick profit, all negativity evaporates in the face of FOMO.
The NOT case clearly showed the main paradox: no matter how much TON is criticized, as soon as there’s a whiff of free stuff or big gains, everyone rushes to join, forgetting past grievances.
The second wave, similar to NOTCOIN, was gifts. Remember, Pepe was sold out in over 10 hours, and no “I missed it” excuse worked here.
After huge gains on gifts, users became even more vulnerable to missed opportunities.
Combo FUD + FOMO
On one hand, users constantly generate FUD. In TON chats, it’s a tradition: any new project is labeled a scam by default. Any announcement meets distrust.
This chronic negativity is a sort of defensive reaction — they prepare for the worst to avoid disappointment. After all, they’ve been burned so many times!
But on the other hand, they are held back by powerful FOMO — the fear of missing out. The moment someone whispers about free NFTs or new gifts with stickers, their inner excitement instantly beats logic and reason.
Their hands reach for the phone: maybe now is the chance to hit the jackpot?
Greed and excitement overpower doubts.
Those same FUD spreaders who just exposed TON suddenly decide: “Let me try too, just in case.”
That’s how herd psychology works: once most run to the fire, others, complaining and doubting, also join.
No one wants to be left out if a big win happens.
Everyone fears being the only one who missed the gold mine while others got rich.
And that fear of missed opportunity acts like a magnet pulling people back into the TON movement.
Mentality
The CIS audience seems to have an innate habit of pain and disappointment. For years we were taught: “There’s no such thing as a free lunch,” “Miracles don’t happen.”
Many went through the 1990s with MMM and vouchers, through countless financial pyramids.
But paradoxically, this habit of constant losses breeds a peculiar masochistic thrill.
Patience bordering on masochism is noticeable in many communities, and TON is no exception.
Losing money or time here is almost normal, a reason to laugh through tears with everyone else.
Pain unites: when another scam happens, the chat fills with dark humor, memes about burned deposits, and jokes.
People curse but somehow accept that suffering is part of the game.
This has already become community culture.
There is also the “avos’” phenomenon — the irrational hope for a miracle, deeply rooted in our mentality. After each failure, we tell ourselves: “Maybe next time I’ll get lucky.”
“Well, I gained experience, and soon a new token will launch — then I’ll get back on track.” This belief in “soon I’ll hit the jackpot” is the engine that prevents leaving the game completely.
Maybe a Western investor would have left long ago in such circumstances, but our mentality endures to the last, gritting teeth but hoping for victory.
Like in a casino: having lost everything, you don’t leave the table — you wait for the mythical big win on the last penny.
If you are in a casino and realize you lost everything — the best thing you can do is leave empty-handed
Toxicity
We cannot ignore the special atmosphere reigning in Telegram TON channels and chats, where the main “action” unfolds.
People are soaked in toxicity.
Its culture thrives: participants openly insult each other, mock others’ losses, accuse developers of every imaginable sin, and it goes on endlessly.
At first glance — a nightmare, not a community. But oddly enough, this intensity keeps people hooked.
Imagine a typical day in such a chat. In the morning everyone curses a new project. By noon they compete over who has the sharpest meme about the new listing. In the evening they gloat over others’ failures.
Every day is a little soap opera: with heroes, villains, tragedies, and comedy. People get used to this endless show.
To leave means to lose the constant flow of emotions and the familiar company.
Many make friends (or enemies) in these chats, gain a reputation as cynics or jokers — it becomes part of their life.
The Telegram TON community becomes a kind of family, albeit dysfunctional,
Turning FUD around it into a drug for those around.
Conclusion and My Message
The culture of endless FUD gave rise to the term “pigsty,” becoming an integral part of TON.
People led not by their principles or beliefs but by the crowd’s opinion — which changes with every new newsfeed — pollute the information field, turning it into a drug for others.
This is a cultural phenomenon — a mix of pain, hope, toxicity, and excitement.
Every other person says “pigsty” — yet keeps returning.
For these people, the ecosystem long ceased to be just an investment field. It became a mirror of their psychology: both greed for gains, emotional dependency, and belief in the miracle “on the last penny.”
My message is clear. I have long since cleared my information field of constant noise, whining, and artificially inflated panics. Not perfectly, but I did it.
If you are also truly tired of chaos, endless FUD, whining, and circus happening around you every day — take a simple step.
Unsubscribe from clowns. Turn off notifications. Clear your information field. Remove from your mind the opinions of others that bring neither benefit nor awareness.
Because as long as you stew in this noise, you don’t make decisions, you just react.
You react to referral links, headlines, their hysteria.
Returning to meaning means taking back control.
Starting to build your own strategies instead of reacting to others’ panic.
Your task is to be the one who looks soberly. Who doesn’t shout “pigsty” with the crowd but simply leaves the room if they really don’t like it here.
Or stays — but by their own will, with a cool head.
Author: t.me/kuznetsovton