If You Hold Solana, You Should Read This

For years, the crypto space has asked the wrong question.

Instead of asking what is trustless, what is immutable, what removes human discretion from money, the industry chose an easier metric. Price. Speed. Throughput. Hype. Convenience.
And in doing so, it handed the keys back to the very structures blockchain was supposed to replace.

Pump.fun did not appear out of nowhere. It is not an anomaly. It is not a rogue platform that somehow slipped through the cracks of an otherwise healthy ecosystem. It is the logical outcome of a design philosophy that prioritised growth, velocity, and fee extraction over first principles.

What has now reached a federal courtroom was obvious long before it reached a judge.

A memecoin factory embedded directly into Solana’s infrastructure. Millions of tokens. A near total failure rate. Hundreds of millions in fees. Retail churn as a business model. And behind it all, a small, tightly coordinated group with the power to shape transaction ordering, validator incentives, and launch mechanics.

This is not decentralisation. It is choreography.

The July 2025 consolidated class action lawsuit lays this out with uncomfortable clarity. Pump.fun is not framed as a neutral tool, but as a deliberately engineered environment designed to maximise behavioural exploitation. An unlicensed digital casino where probability, visibility, and inclusion paths were tuned for extraction, not fairness.

More importantly, the lawsuit does not stop at Pump.fun.

It names Solana Labs, the Solana Foundation, and senior leadership. It alleges coordination, not coincidence. It introduces internal communications that point to active technical involvement rather than passive infrastructure provision. It invokes RICO not for theatrical effect, but because the plaintiffs are arguing enterprise level behaviour, repeated predicate acts, and systemic financial harm.

Whether the case ultimately survives dismissal is for the court to decide. But the direction of travel is unmistakable.

The long held belief that blockchain foundations are neutral hosts is being tested. And it is being tested precisely where it should be. At the intersection of architecture, incentives, and control.

This scrutiny is unfolding alongside a sharp contraction in Solana’s on chain engagement. During the height of the memecoin frenzy in 2024, Solana saw active trader counts approaching five million wallets. By mid 2025, multiple on chain analytics sources showed that figure falling to the region of six to seven hundred thousand. Trading volume followed a similar trajectory, declining sharply as speculative churn collapsed and retail participation retreated.

This matters because throughput metrics are meaningless without sustained participants. A sevenfold decline in active traders suggests that much of Solana’s apparent growth was not durable economic activity, but short lived behavioural exploitation tied to hyper speculative platforms like Pump.fun. When the churn stopped, the activity vanished with it.

This does not mean Solana ceases to function. It means its headline metrics masked fragility. And fragility is exactly what legal scrutiny exposes.

This is where the conversation inevitably returns to a name the industry loves to sneer at.

Richard Heart.

For years, he was labelled the scammer. The outcast. The loud one. The man who refused to play along. The one who insisted that finished products matter more than roadmaps, that immutable code matters more than partnerships, that trustless systems matter more than narratives.

While others chased validators backed by institutions, he chased validator count. While others accepted discretionary control as a necessary tradeoff, he rejected it outright. While others built ecosystems dependent on ongoing intervention, he built systems designed to be left alone.

PulseChain was not built to win popularity contests. It was built to survive scrutiny.

Solana claims thousands of validators. In practice, that number obscures concentration rather than decentralisation. Institutions operating hundreds of validators do not become independent actors by splitting infrastructure. Control is measured by coordination and influence, not dashboard statistics.

Those who understand trustless, open source, immutable software have known this for years. The difference now is that courts are beginning to examine it through the lens of responsibility.

Markets judge brutally in the short term and accurately in the long term. Right now, PulseChain is judged almost exclusively on price. That will change. When confidence fractures elsewhere, when foundations lose the protection of plausible deniability, capital will not chase excitement. It will seek certainty.

When throughput no longer excuses control, when speed no longer compensates for discretion, people will gravitate toward systems that do not require trust.

Not loudly. Not triumphantly. But inevitably.

This is not about gloating. It is about patience. About building infrastructure that does not need defending because it was designed correctly from the outset.

The memecoin era is teaching the industry a hard lesson. Some of us simply learned it earlier.

We are not waiting to be proven right.

We are waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.

Veritya Thalassa