In a world where the powerful increasingly sideline the rest of us, it’s essential to reflect on the implications for future generations. The following excerpt captures this alarming reality:
We have a group of individuals actively preparing for societal collapse. Their own writings indicate they invite this outcome. They construct bunkers, aiming to shield themselves from the fallout of their actions. Their vision appears to include only a minimal number of humans, primarily to fulfill roles that AI cannot manage. Perhaps they even require enough to continue a cycle of exploitation?
During my college years, I deeply admired Rosa Luxemburg and the Mass Strike and penned a paper inspired by her ideas. As a person now observing the world from a later stage in life, I shared narratives about the CNT and Anarcho-Syndicalism’s General Strike with the DailyKos community. What a beautiful vision it painted: through solidarity, the marginalized could rise against the powerful with minimal violence!
However, echoing the sentiments of Mr. Jensen, the hope that merely withholding our labor can dismantle the oligarchs—especially when combined with reduced consumption—seems increasingly unrealistic. Fifty years ago, in a Fordist consumer economy, such power may have existed, but advancements in technology and the growing concentration of wealth have dismantled that social and economic framework, leading us into a reality where, as Kathleen Wallace argues, we are seen as unnecessary. The pertinent question now remains: how might those in power eliminate our presence without causing disruption to their lives and plans?
While this inquiry touches on the methods available to the TechBros and their affiliates, it fails to address their underlying motives. I’ve previously explored the Conquistador Worldview—a perspective that perceives the universe as an assemblage of resources to be exploited and discarded when no longer deemed useful. After engaging with Daniel Quinn’s work, I adopted his term “Takers” to describe those whose sense of human superiority drives them to exploit all forms of life indiscriminately.
The Taker mentality poses significant dangers to the stability of Earth. Yet, the Epstein files and recent news unveil a critical aspect of the oligarch mindset. This dimension acts as a catalyst for human exceptionalism, transforming it into a tribal or class-based dominance that dehumanizes others. Although I will tread carefully here for reasons pertinent to our times, this sentiment finds roots in ancient historical and religious phenomena, notably the prevalence of a meta-religion known as henotheism—the belief in one god among many—that shaped much of the ancient Near East. Each group of people, whether or not they had a king, sought a deity to sustain them, protect them, and define their morals. Without a god, a nation lost its identity. Similarly, a god without a people ceased to hold value.
When two nations clashed in a henotheistic context, it was understood that their gods were also engaged in battle, with the war’s outcome influenced by which god proved superior. Consequently, a vanquished nation that saw its temple destroyed felt that their deity had been defeated. This often led to the removal of both political and religious elites, ensuring that the old cult diminished among the locals while exiles were expected to adopt the beliefs of their conquerors.
Remarkably, in certain instances, the conquered nation’s religious leaders resisted submission. One prophet, in exile, envisioned the spirit of his lost god escaping its temple before destruction. Another prophet boldly declared that their god had not been defeated; rather, this god was the singular Creator of the universe, dismissing the other deities as frauds. Yet, this narrative raised an uncomfortable question: why had this supposedly victorious god failed to protect his people? The answer posited was not one of divine failure but rather the failure of the people to uphold their god’s will, resulting in their temporary abandonment.
Looking back, we can discern how this transition from henotheism to monotheism transformed moral landscapes. Previously, the ethics of one nation rarely intersected with another’s; disputes over beliefs were overshadowed by concerns of resources and security. Even exiling defeated religious elites was less about spreading faith and more a strategy to avert unrest. With monotheism flourishing, however, the chosen nation felt compelled to either convert or eliminate those who continued to worship their own gods. Engaging with ‘heathens’ became taboo, setting the stage for greater conflict.
Over time, another faith emerged, building upon this framework of monotheism, adjusting fundamental tenets of belonging and identity. Membership was no longer about tribal affiliation but rather a question of faith. Thus, those refusing to convert—often even the faithful from original beliefs—became targets for exploitation, violence, and genocide. Conquistadors and religious leaders presented entire populations with a stark choice: convert or perish. Even conversion sometimes failed to protect them if they posed a threat to the agenda.
Progress in human knowledge and science began to erode the grasp of this newer belief system. The Enlightenment aimed to rationalize humanity’s role in the cosmos, yet this advancement nurtured ideologies—capitalism, fascism, socialism—that upheld the Taker mentality, positioning humankind at the pinnacle of existence. The same zeal for total ideological dominance persisted, prompting violent measures against those who resisted compliance.
Today, one might expect the Iron Age notion of a people favored by a god to fade into obscurity, yet it endures—enhanced by contemporary monotheistic doctrines advocating tribal or religious supremacy and emergent ideologies that claim their systems represent the ultimate path for all humanity. Whichever ideology our oligarchy embraces poses an existential threat to the rest of us.
