The Great Taking and the Great Blind Spot

“The real problem of humanity is the following: We have Paleolithic emotions, medieval institutions, and godlike technology.” — E.O. Wilson

This past year has been unlike any other. I haven’t left Southwest Michigan—haven’t seen any other part of the world. Instead, I ventured into a more elusive frontier: reality. Writing became my compass, guiding me through the tension between the analytical precision of my left brain and the imaginative pull of my right. It takes real effort to get both sides to collaborate. The left stalls when logic breaks down; the right digs through stories in search of truth. It’s an intense process—did you know thinking burns a surprising number of calories?

That mental effort often led me down unexpected paths—none more jarring than the ideas put forth by David Rogers Webb. A former hedge fund manager, Webb moved to Sweden after exposing a calculated scheme by powerful financial entities to seize collateralized assets—stocks, bonds, and personal property—through hidden legal mechanisms within institutional frameworks. Most striking: central clearing parties (CCPs) can legally claim client assets during systemic crises, meaning even bank deposits aren’t truly ours. Webb’s book, The Great Taking, offers a gripping and unsettling analysis of our financial vulnerability.

In a recent interview, Webb described this year’s stock rally as a mirage—a manipulated bounce masking a broader market collapse, amplified by tariff-driven headlines. He argues these sharp spikes reflect classic bear market tactics, fueled by insider manipulation. Webb compares trading in such a system to boxing blindfolded against an opponent with perfect vision.

He also warns of a deepening sovereign debt crisis. Japan’s 30-year bond yields have surged from 2.6% to 3.6% in a single month, despite ongoing economic contraction. U.S. 30-year bond yields have climbed back to pre-2008 levels. This sharp rise in “risk-free” sovereign debt yields points to a severe liquidity crunch, threatening global financial stability as bond prices plummet.

Government bonds, essential collateral in the massive derivatives market, are rapidly losing value. That could trigger demands for more collateral and threaten cascading failures within central clearing houses—a risk the Bank for International Settlements has already flagged. Webb draws stark parallels to the Great Depression, arguing that today’s fiscal tightening, monetary contraction, and rising trade barriers are intentional, part of a strategy to consolidate valuable assets and power, much like New York’s financial elite did in the 1930s.

Webb warns of a systemic reset engineered to impose a technocratic financial regime, where compliance is mandatory and resistance leads to economic exclusion. But here’s where I diverge from Webb and many others: the fragility he describes isn’t limited to finance—it’s civilizational. At its core, it’s not policy, technology, or ideology driving this, but nature itself. The pursuit of centralized control, a human-designed financial reset, collides with nature’s limits, accelerating resource depletion and hastening the collapse of complex systems.

William Ophuls argues that civilizations don’t succumb to external enemies but unravel under the weight of their own complexity. Industrialized economies, in their relentless expansion, create intricate systems that demand ever-increasing energy. Eventually, this complexity becomes unsustainable, leading to overshoot and collapse. History’s civilizations followed this path—not from a lack of ingenuity, but from the hubris of defying natural limits. A synthesis emerges: true resilience lies in harmonizing human ambition with ecological boundaries, blending innovation with humility to forge a sustainable future.

From a Christian perspective, our crisis reflects the story of Lucifer, the light-bearer and anti-Christ, whose pride—not malice—spurred him to challenge God. Promising enlightenment and a path to divinity, he delivered chaos instead. Similarly, humanity’s pursuit of limitless progress, untethered from natural and divine law, mirrors this ancient rebellion between God and the fallen angels. Our predicament follows a timeless pattern, resonant in both scripture and science.

Nature’s laws are absolute, unmoved by algorithms, currencies, or utopian dreams. Much of what we call “progress” over the past two centuries—from a population of 1 billion to over 8 billion—wasn’t driven solely by innovation. It was fueled by an energy windfall: fossil fuels yielding early returns of roughly 100:1, powering farms, factories, and highways. Those returns are dwindling—shale oil now yields closer to 5:1, with debt eroding the profit gains from technological advances. This shift is critical.

Energy—not fiat dollars or Bitcoin—is the true currency. In terms of leveraging human labor, oil holds universal intrinsic value, serves as a medium of exchange, and underpins the global petrodollar system. Currency, by contrast, is merely a ledger entry we use to trade energy’s real wealth.

Fiat systems and cheap credit mask the truth, generating false signals of wealth and misallocating capital. Currency is mistaken for value itself—a false messiah. Yet, the true currency of trade is energy, and gold’s enduring role is no accident; it reliably stores energy’s value across history. Debt, however, distorts this reality, inflating asset prices and diverting focus from what sustains industrial civilizations: abundant, reliable, affordable energy. Without it, complexity becomes a burden, then chaotic, then collapses. No financial scheme, digital wallet, or ESG mandate can defy the laws of thermodynamics.

Webb is right to raise the alarm, but the impending reset transcends finance—it’s civilizational. The illusion of control is fracturing, and through those cracks, reality seeps in. What unfolds next won’t be dictated by the architects of collapse but by the enduring truths they’ve long ignored.

As energy returns dwindle, optimism bias fuels the myth of technological salvation, while normalcy bias convinces us tomorrow will mirror today. Yet, the technologies we bank on—AI, electric vehicles, renewable infrastructure—are fragile, dependent on complex supply chains, rare earth minerals, and debt-fueled subsidies. They falter under real-world energy and material constraints.

We must abandon fantasies and anchor ourselves in the natural laws shaping our future. The “technocratic dystopia” is no destiny—it’s a mirage, Lucifer in a lab coat, promising salvation through abstraction while leading us further from reality.

Nature’s laws are non-negotiable. Key principles illustrate this:

• Carrying CapacityEcosystems—and societies—have limits. Exceed them, and collapse follows.
• Overshoot and CollapseWhen populations outstrip resources, decline precedes collapse. The reindeer of St. Matthew Island, introduced in 1944 with abundant lichen, grew from 29 to 6,000 by 1963, then crashed to 42 after one harsh winter, leaving devastation.
• Limits to GrowthInfinite economic and population growth is impossible on a finite planet with finite energy and materials.
• Entropy (Second Law of Thermodynamics)Systems trend toward disorder without high-quality energy inputs. Complexity demands constant energy.
• Energy Return on Investment (EROI)Declining energy surplus (output minus input) undermines complex systems’ sustainability.
• Debt DistortionCheap credit masks resource scarcity, fueling over-consumption and misallocated capital, but accelerates breakdown when future consumption can’t match rising debt.
• Psychological Bias in Complex SystemsOur Paleolithic brains, wired for immediate survival, struggle to grasp slow, systemic risks posed by godlike technologies.

Why cling to myths of infinite energy, suppressed technologies, or heroic saviors? Nature’s verdict is clear.

Collapse may not be a single event but a gradual unraveling of interconnected, over-leveraged systems. Webb argues this process has been underway and reached ‘critical mass,’ potentially culminating in widespread disempowerment and dispossession. Yet, he insists the future remains unwritten. A few dedicated individuals—engaging local leaders, supporting grassroots efforts—might be in time to steer us toward a different path.

To thrive, we must reconnect with reality: relationships with people, animals, and the earth. Land, water, and physical resources are paramount. Relying less on fragile global systems builds resilience. Collapse may be inevitable, but catastrophe isn’t. Preparation makes the difference.

As Webb warns: “You are in a war. Protect your physical reality.” Communities that grow food, secure water, and trade locally won’t just survive—they could redefine flourishing in a fragile world.

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