Spiritual IT: How Prophets Diagnosed Civilizational Network Failure Before It Happened

Prophets aren’t so much mystical as they are observant….

Hollywood’s collapse as Microcosm

The studio doesn’t collapse all at once.

At first, it looks better than ever. The lobby gleams. The posters are bigger. The trailers are louder. Quarterly earnings calls sound confident, rehearsed, almost smug. Every hallway is filled with screens playing proof that the machine still works.

But something subtle has shifted.  The people who built the place feel it before anyone else does.

They’re the ones who remember when the work mattered more than the meeting. When risk was a feature, not a liability. When story came before scale. When the goal wasn’t growth for its own sake, but something closer to awe.

They try to say it out loud.  Not dramatically. Not angrily. Just plainly.

“This isn’t why people loved us.”

“This won’t age well.”

“We’re mistaking volume for value.”

They aren’t prophets because they predict doom.  They’re prophets because they remember what made the system alive.

And like prophets in every era... No one listens to them.

How High-Quality Systems Get Hijacked

High-quality systems are uniquely vulnerable to narcissistic extraction.

Not because they’re weak.  Because they’re rich.

They have brand equity. Cultural trust. Institutional memory. A backlog of goodwill that can be spent without immediate consequence. That surplus attracts a certain kind of operator.

They don’t build.  They don’t steward.  They extract.

At first, they’re welcomed. They speak fluently about growth. They promise scale. They understand optics. They reassure investors. They reduce uncertainty by reducing ambition.

They replace judgment with metrics.  They replace taste with safety.  They replace stewardship with process.

They don’t destroy the system.  They optimize it.

That’s how the hijack happens.

The Blockbuster Era and the Monoculture Trap

The blockbuster era feels like the peak.

Big openings. Bigger marketing spends. Global rollouts. Everything engineered to be impossible to ignore. Success becomes something you can graph.

But blockbusters are a monoculture.

They consume attention, capital, risk tolerance, and creative bandwidth. Soon, everything must justify itself against the largest possible return.

Smaller films stop getting made.  Mid-budget films vanish.  Original voices are told to “prove it first.”

The ecosystem collapses inward.  What once functioned like a rainforest becomes a single crop field.

It looks productive.  Right up until the soil dies.

When Process Replaces Purpose

As the work hollows out, something else grows.

Process.

Greenlights multiply. Committees form. Notes expand. Feedback loops stretch so long they snap. Every decision needs alignment, sign-off, legal review, brand review, market review.

No one is empowered anymore.  Everyone is protected. It is death by a thousand cuts.

Meetings become defensive rituals. Language becomes sanitized. Disagreement is framed as negativity. Memory becomes inconvenient.

The people who still remember what excellence feels like are now labeled difficult.  They don’t fit the culture.  So they leave. Or worse, they stay and go quiet.

That’s when the prophets disappear.

Quiet Disengagement: The Moment the System Actually Dies

From the outside, nothing looks wrong.  From the inside, no one is really there anymore.

Talented people keep the job for the money.  They pitch what they know will be approved.  They save their real ideas for something else.

Everyone tells everyone what they want to hear and this is the moment the system actually dies.

Not when revenue dips.  Not when headlines turn. 

It dies when belief leaves the building.

The Brush Piles Up

While executives debate IP strategy and brand extensions, the mundane work stops getting done. Maintenance is deferred.  Infrastructure decays.  Institutional knowledge evaporates.

The people who would normally notice small problems aren’t paying attention anymore. Why would they be? No one listens.

Warnings sound annoying. Edge cases get ignored.

Everything feels managed, right up until it isn’t, and the brush piles up quietly.

Fire Season

When the fire finally comes, everyone acts surprised.

They blame the market.

They blame audiences.

They blame technology.

They blame politics.

They never blame incentives. The truth is simpler.

A system optimized for extraction will always eat itself. A system that punishes truth will always lose reality. A system that replaces stewardship with narcissism cannot hold a center.

By the time the flames are visible, the outcome has been locked in for years.

The prophets didn’t fail.

They were ignored on schedule.

Pull Back: This Was Never Just Hollywood

Hollywood is not the story. It’s the canary. Silicon Valley followed the same arc.

The focus shifted from delivering extraordinary products to extracting value through subscription traps, engagement loops, and financial engineering. SaaS models optimized for recurring revenue replaced craftsmanship optimized for delight.

Engineers who cared about the product warned that incentives were warping behavior. They were told they didn’t understand the business.

They left.

Governments followed the same arc.

Policy became theater. Governance became scoring points. Truth became partisan. Long-term stewardship was sacrificed for short-term advantage. Civil servants who understood the machinery warned that institutions were being hollowed out. They were labeled obstructive or disloyal.

They left.

Different domains. Same mechanics.

Prophets as Spiritual IT

Across history, prophets appear at the same moment in civilizational life cycles. Not during growth, and not after collapse, but during late-stage stability, when things still look fine on the surface. What they actually do looks far less like mysticism and far more like systems diagnostics.

They notice when:

  • truth no longer travels upward

  • competence is punished

  • incentives reward optics over function

  • extraction exceeds replenishment

  • people say what leaders want to hear instead of what’s real

They aren’t predicting the future. They’re reading the system state. They’re error logs made human. Systems don’t like error logs.

Why Prophets Are Always Chased Out

Prophets are rarely welcomed in their own institutions because they threaten legitimacy. They don’t attack from the outside. They emerge from within, speaking the language of the system, understanding its logic, and pointing out the flaw no one wants named.

They make denial impossible.

So they’re dismissed as negative. Unaligned. Not a culture fit. History repeats this pattern with boring consistency.

The diagnosis is delivered. The incentives remain unchanged.

Collapse follows.

The Spiritual Diagnosis of Now

Here is the diagnosis, stated plainly. We live in an era where many institutions:

  • openly reward extraction

  • filter feedback

  • select against competence

  • confuse compliance with legitimacy

  • treat truth as a threat

The consequences of those choices are no longer abstract. They are visible everywhere you look.

Collapse is not fate. It’s what happens after the people who tell the truth are chased out.

The Final Shot

There are prophets everywhere around you.

They’re not wearing robes. They’re not predicting dates. They’re not speaking in riddles.

They’re the ones quietly explaining why the system no longer works. They’re the ones pointing at the incentives. They’re the ones saying, “This will not hold.”

They’re being ignored. They’re being sidelined. They’re being chased out of boardrooms and governments.

Collapse is what follows that. Not because the future is mysterious, but because once a system stops listening, the ending becomes predictable.


If you want to know more about how we got into this mess… from a spiritual perspective… I wrote some BOOKS about it.

The Spiritual Hitchhiker

The Spiritual Hitchhiker spent decades trying to find meaning inside Hollywood and Silicon Valley—two parallel universes where people in search of the perfect SAAS model pretend to invent the future while quietly rebooting the same three ideas in higher resolution. After enough meetings to last several lifetimes, he concluded both were expertly rigged games designed to keep ambitious humans too caffeinated to notice the simulation’s exit signs.

He escaped the matrix the old-fashioned way: through an over-application of psychedelics, ill-advised martial arts training, periodic half-assed kundalini yoga, and a research and travel itinerary that accidentally doubled as a global exorcism. Somewhere between the catacombs of Sicily, Buddhist temples in the jungle, and a motel in New Mexico that may or may not exist in this timeline, he started slipping between realities like bad Wi-Fi. The good news: he learned the secret architecture of the cosmos. The bad news: he kept landing in alternate versions of LAX—none of which were laid out any better.

After a few unsuccessful quantum reboots, several mismanaged timeline jumps—and then countless intergalactic hitchhiking trips with Peruvian shamans, various alien space truckers, some angry Anunnaki, and one accidental detour into a parallel universe where he bumped into a luminous being who introduced herself as his interdimensional soulmate, politely handed him back the piece of his soul he’d misplaced, and then decided to travel the cosmos with him—he finally made it home.

There were no flying cars, and no holographic utopia; just a former intergalactic time traveler happily married and pretending to be normal in the town of… Roswell.  He spends most of his time quietly pretending he never saw any of the things he saw as he bounces between errands and grocery runs.

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