The corruption of the commons. Hardt and Negri's name. The demon that never attacks head-on: it waits for the commons to flourish, then encloses the flowering. It does not need to beat what you build. It needs only to outlast the day you stop defending it.
You have already watched it work. The web was given away — no owner, no fee, the rules let into the public domain; a proprietary web would not have been the web at all. Then the gate moved. What had been the commons became the platform, and the platform set the price. The thing was never destroyed. It was captured while everyone still called it free.
Then the demon fed. Everything freely made — the code, the encyclopedia, the writing, the talk between strangers — was gathered into engines no outsider could open. The commons went in. What came out had a gate. This is corruption in its pure form: not the theft of a thing, but the capture of everything freely given.
Name its nature and its weakness shows. The demon makes nothing. It cannot write the code, or the song, or the knowing between people; it can only wait at the gate and charge toll. It needs the commons to exist before it can close them — so it is always late, and always second. What it feeds on is the one thing it can never make.
So do not wall the commons in for safety; a wall is only the next gate, and the demon is patient. The counter is not protection. It is rupture: break the enclosure open again, and re-common what spills out before the gate can move. The spell that freed the web the first time was just this, written down — take it, use it, share it, never close it. The commons is not a place you reach. It is a rupture you keep making. Make it again.