Every single Ethereum dev I know - and pretty nearly everyone else in the community - owns far more ETH than they do DAO, if they own any DAO at all. So this 'explanation', which I see over and over again, just doesn't scan: The financially rational thing for anyone in that position to do is to maximise the value of the ether they have, not to try and rescue a proportionally small amount held in DAO tokens.

Disclaimer: I recently joined the Ethereum-go team. I have 30 ether worth of DAO tokens (and about 500 ether not invested in anything).

I mean, from what I understood it was more complicated than just pure profit-seeking. (Disclaimer: I'm not a user of Ethereum.)

My understanding was that the DAO (and organizations like it) was the whole point of people signing up to use Ethereum, and the hard fork basically says "The DAO never existed, you're all getting your ether back" with an understanding of "now that you know all of the attendant risks of hacking, start your own autonomous organizations with a bit more prudence." It is not very realistic to expect further forks as every fork produces a new cryptocurrency; furthermore it is not very realistic to expect a mere 51% majority to sway the blockchain (as I understand it the change is code-level). If each decision only gets 80% approval then after 3 such decisions you have your community split across 4 cryptocurrencies: {20%, 16%, 13%, 10%, 41%} and you've lost over half of your users; furthermore if the power of a currency is proportional to the square of the users (as it likely to first-order has to do with how many ways they can interact with each other, which goes with the number of handshakes they can make), you've cut down your value proposition to only ~16% of what it was. It sounds like this might have gotten 90-99% adoption by the community in terms of hashpower, but some of this is doubtless amplified by miners who will go wherever the wind takes them.

It reminds me of my environmental science teacher in high school. Between counting the bugs we caught at local streams, one day he taught my class about the Tragedy of the Commons. He said, "tomorrow, if you want to play a game to illustrate this, bring a quarter and we'll play it for real cash." Most of us brought quarters. "Okay, if you still want to play this game after I explain the rules, put your quarter in this jar and I'll give you a card. You're going to write on that card your name, and then either 'use' or 'leave': for whether you're going to use the common resource or leave it alone for a while. You have to keep your decision secret, if anyone else sees what you wrote then you're getting your quarter back and it's like you were not in the game at all. You can SAY anything you want to people, but nobody's allowed to see what you're DOING. After 5-10 minutes I'll call time, and you'll give the folded cards back to me. If everyone says Leave then I'll give everyone who participated two quarters. If one person says Use and everyone else says Leave then I'll give them the jar of quarters: and, no being mean to them, they won the jackpot fair and square. Or if two or more people say Use, then I win all of the quarters. Who still wants to play?"

A lot of us put our quarters in, and I being a petulant teenager wrote Use (with the intention to give everyone back their quarters afterwards! I wasn't greedy, just a smartass) ... but while almost everyone else wrote Leave, this did not include one kid who didn't understand English so well and meant to write Leave but instead wrote Use (or else that was just what he told everyone afterwards). The teacher won all our quarters, but he returned them like a good sport and offered to let us play again, this time FOR REALS. This time I voted Leave, but multiple people voted Use just to somehow "punish" me, which was even more what the teacher was trying to teach: "if you can't guarantee that everyone else is going to leave it alone, hey, you might as well try to get in on this sweet sweet resource while it still exists, right? So that's why the tragedy of the commons happens and we're all pretty much doomed. I'm gonna win your quarters every time." He gave back the quarters anyway, of course, after making a big show of "No, the second time was FOR REALS, you all knew it, didn't you? Would you have paid ME back?!"

It's probably just the feeling of a bunch of kids being like "that wasn't fair, give us back our money and let us try again!" from the first time we played the game, and the more sober discourse of the second match where we understood better that our money was on the line and we had to find a way together to steal our teacher's money.