Let’s imagine the combination of the immutable and the mutable, where IPFS serves as the immutable storage layer and a Wiki or other Semantic Web technology acts as a dynamic, human-readable organizational layer.

By core design, IPFS is a highly efficient but terse storage mechanism—it does not provide human-readable references beyond content-based cryptographic addresses (hashes). This makes IPFS powerful for verifiable, tamper-proof storage, but it lacks built-in ways to search, structure, annotate, or correct its content. A Wiki-like layer or other structured knowledge system could complement IPFS by organizing immutable content without modifying it, providing metadata, discussions, errata, and searchability while preserving the underlying integrity of the stored data.

I am not a coder, so I will not attempt to explain this in terms of software and protocols. However, as an end-user, I can clearly articulate the need for a system that enables structured, accessible, and user-friendly interaction with immutable data. There may already be projects working toward this, but I have not yet encountered one that fully meets this vision. The challenge is not simply technical—it is about aligning immutable trust with flexible usability in a way that serves real-world needs.

Take, for example, the Wikipedia page for George Floyd.

As of today, the page contains 144 references—a staggering amount of effort and documentation for a single individual. The sheer volume of citations and the relentless attempts to justify and shape the narrative demonstrate the nature of Wikipedia as a never-ending editorial battleground rather than a stable reference.

I have followed this page for a while, and the continuous edits, justifications, and revisions show that the effort to maintain and control the narrative is bottomless. The page will never stop changing, because Wikipedia, by design, is not meant to provide immutable historical records—it is a forum for ongoing interpretation, re-evaluation, and editorial consensus, which shifts over time.

This is not about dismissing events, disregarding the impact on those affected, or making a political statement. Rather, it highlights the immense resources and effort spent in the pursuit of an unattainable goal—trying to create a stable record on a platform that is inherently unstable. This is exactly why certain facts, once verified, must be moved to immutable storage, where they cannot be rewritten, reframed, or selectively edited to fit shifting narratives.

Here lies the truly tragic and uncomfortable question—does George Floyd even warrant an immutable record? In life, he did not accomplish anything of historical, scientific, or cultural significance that would traditionally justify national or international recognition. This is an objective fact.

However, the circumstances of his death and the global events that followed undeniably warrant extensive documentation. Not just one, but multiple immutable records should exist—not for the sake of glorification, but for unbiased preservation of historical reality. Yet, if such immutable records were created, many of them would not be flattering—they would be revealing.

This highlights the precise crisis we face today—not just in politics, but in academia, journalism, and every major institution where narratives are constantly reshaped, controlled, and framed to serve agendas. Take climate change data, for example—are there truly immutable records documenting the sun’s cycles, cosmic radiation, geomagnetic fields, deep oceanic currents, and all the complex variables that form the foundations of climate science? Or are we only left with curated datasets that reinforce a particular statistical model?

At its core, the issue is deeper than bias or misinformation—it is about whether we, as a society, are even capable of having objective discussions anymore, without first shaping them to fit a predetermined political agenda. If facts can no longer exist outside of narrative control, then truth itself becomes an illusion.