Introduction: 21 Days to Change a Habit Is a Lie

I can still feel the smell of a rainy autumn day when a drill instructor walked in front of my company and told us, “We will break you and remake you.”

At that time, I laughed deep inside, still full of illusions. I thought, “I already know everything.” I’m Mario Bekes, a special forces operator—what could this man possibly teach me?

I was wrong. The instructor was right. They broke us down—every illusion, every false belief—and through repetition, discipline, and hardship, they remade us. It did not take 21 days. It took months of sweat, sleepless nights, and endless drills. 

Later, through military education, it was explained to us: recruits must be young, healthy, and untrained, because habits—real habits—are not created overnight. 

They are forged in time, through controlled environments and relentless repetition.

This is why, when I see the self-help industry promising people that “it only takes 21 days to change a habit,” I recognize it for what it is: a myth, a simplification, and in many cases, a dangerous lie.

The Birth of the 21-Day Myth

The promise of “21 days” sounds scientific, even authoritative. But like many modern myths, it has a traceable origin.

In the 1950s, Dr. Maxwell Maltz, a plastic surgeon, began noticing something peculiar in his patients. Those who underwent operations—whether cosmetic surgery or amputation—typically needed about three weeks to get used to the change in their appearance or body [theleadershipsphere.com.au].

In 1960, he published his book Psycho-Cybernetics, where he wrote that it “usually requires a minimum of about 21 days for an old mental image to dissolve and a new one to gel.” It was an observation, a medical reflection on adjustment—not a universal rule of psychology.

Yet the simplicity of the number took on a life of its own. Over the decades, self-help authors and motivational speakers stripped Maltz’s statement of its nuance. Soon, his cautious “minimum of about 21 days” became a bold proclamation: “It takes 21 days to change a habit.”

A myth was born.

Science Shatters the Illusion

Decades later, psychologists sought to test this claim. In 2009, Phillippa Lally and her team at University College London followed 96 volunteers as they tried to adopt new habits: eating fruit with lunch, going for a run, and drinking more water. 

The findings were devastating for the 21-day promise. On average, it took participants 66 days for a habit to become automatic. Some needed only 18 days; others required up to 254 days.

That is nearly a year—far removed from the three-week miracle.

Neuroscientists added further depth. Research into brain plasticity shows that building or breaking neural pathways requires sustained effort over months, not weeks. A neuroscientist quoted by MindBodyGreen pointed to about nine weeks—63 days—as a more realistic timeframe for embedding new behaviour.

This is the scientific consensus: habit formation is complex, variable, and deeply personal. There is no magic number.

The Industry of Illusion

So why does the 21-day claim continue to dominate motivational seminars, coaching sessions, and Instagram posts? The answer is both simple and unsettling.

The myth survives because it sells.

“21 days” is digestible. It fits neatly into a headline, a workshop flyer, or the title of a TikTok video. It is short enough to feel possible and long enough to feel serious. It taps into our craving for certainty and our desperation for quick transformation.

The self-help and coaching industries thrive on this illusion. If people succeed, the guru takes credit. If they fail, the individual is blamed for lacking discipline. 

And so, the cycle continues—with clients returning, wallets open, searching for the next program, the next “challenge,” the next promise of transformation.

In truth, what is being sold is not transformation but industrialized hope—hope packaged into timeframes, slogans, and formulas.

Why the One-Size-Fits-All Approach Is Dangerous

In the army, breaking and remaking habits worked because it was designed for a very specific group. Recruits were screened for age, health, and resilience. Training was brutal and uniform and delivered in an environment where every variable was controlled.

Now compare this with the way modern coaches apply the 21-day formula. It is marketed equally to:

• a teenager trying to build a study routine,

• a middle-aged smoker attempting to quit after 20 years,

• a business executive aiming to overhaul eating habits.

To claim that all these people can transform themselves in 21 days is not just naive. It is negligent.

Habit change is influenced by countless variables: age, cultural background, psychological history, environment, and even language. 

In my experience, as both a soldier and an investigator, I have seen how small differences—in training conditions, in mental preparedness, in leadership—drastically change the outcome. To apply a blanket rule is to ignore human complexity.

Why People Still Believe

If the science is so clear, why does the myth survive? The answer lies in human psychology.

We prefer simple truths to complex realities. A precise number like “21” feels authoritative. In psychology, this is called cognitive ease—our brains accept what is simple and repeatable.

We also crave success stories. A rare individual who manages to change in 21 days becomes the poster child of an entire industry, while the thousands who fail are quietly ignored. And finally, there is emotional marketing. Hope sells better than truth.

The tragedy is that people do not fail because they are weak. They fail because they were set up with false expectations.

Are 21 Days Completely Worthless?

Here lies the nuance. While 21 days is not enough to permanently change most habits, committing to three weeks can have value. It can act as a launchpad—a short, sharp commitment that builds awareness and momentum.

But it is not the destination. It is the first mile in a marathon. The danger arises when 21 days is sold as the finish line, rather than the starting block.

Life as a Battlefield: The Reality of Change

I know this not just from science but from life itself.

In war, habits were drilled into us until they became survival reflexes. It took months of repetition—stripping weapons blindfolded, crawling under barbed wire, and reacting to fire without hesitation.

In investigations, habits of listening, observing, and documenting were developed over years. A single careless slip of attention could compromise a mission.

In boxing, I have trained for months to adjust a single stance, a single jab. No serious fighter believes in the fantasy of overnight transformation.

Habits are survival tools. They are not created in 21 days. They are built through persistence, sweat, and the willingness to endure the grind.

The Cost of the Lie

The 21-day myth may seem harmless, but it has real consequences. It convinces people that failure is personal weakness rather than flawed advice. 

It feeds an industry that profits from recycling illusions. 

And worst of all, it robs people of patience—the very quality most essential to lasting change.

Real change takes time. It takes months, sometimes years. It takes discipline, structure, and support. There are no shortcuts.

The next time you hear a guru declare, “It only takes 21 days to change your life,” remember this: what they are selling is not truth, but marketing. And marketing will never replace the battlefield of reality.

Social media influencers, crypto traders, and gurus need to reconsider the information they share online.

Introduction—From Intelligence Lessons to the Digital Age

My grandfather, a high-ranking intelligence boss in communist Yugoslavia, drilled one rule into me from childhood: “Mario, sell less and buy more.” He wasn’t talking about money—he meant talking less and listening more.

That single phrase became my compass. And it saved my life more times than I can count while serving in the government sector.

Later, as I worked in diplomatic intelligence and military security intelligence service, the lesson became even more profound: the less you reveal, the safer you stay. In the realm of intelligence, information holds more significance than mere knowledge—it carries the potential to save lives. 

One careless word, one slip of a location, or one misjudged detail could unravel an operation, destroy trust, and cost lives.

But today, you don’t need to be a spy to collect that kind of intelligence.
All you need is Instagram.

They don’t have to follow you in the shadows anymore—you lead them right to your front door. 

Every luxury car you post, every tagged vacation, and every champagne toast is not “content.” It’s a breadcrumb.

Criminals no longer need wiretaps or surveillance vans. They have your reels, your stories, and your grid. Intelligence gathering has been crowdsourced. 

What once took weeks of surveillance with teams of operatives now takes minutes on a smartphone with a Wi-Fi connection.

You think you’re gaining influence. However, you might be inadvertently sharing sensitive information.

Is that picture of the beach a snapshot? A timestamp.

Is the mansion in the background? The mansion in the background is a GPS coordinate.
Is that selfie featuring a Rolex watch and champagne? 

That image serves as a digital version of a wanted poster.

And while you’re chasing likes, followers, and validation, someone else may already be planning a kidnapping.

In the digital age, countless individuals are willingly broadcasting their lives, providing criminals with data previously protected in military vaults. 

Social media influencers, crypto traders, entrepreneurs, and even business coaches and consultants showcase not only their success but also their locations, routines, and wealth in real time. They trade discretion for validation.

But here’s the truth: every post is a potential piece of intelligence for criminals. Flaunting wealth online is not harmless—it places not just the influencer but also their families, staff, and even their clients in grave danger.

The Ancient Pattern—From Aristocrats to Influencers

History teaches us that flaunting wealth has always attracted predators. In 18th- and 19th-century Europe, aristocrats travelling with visible jewellery or carriages were prime targets for highwaymen.

In Latin America during the 1980s, wealthy business families became victims of express kidnappings—fast abductions designed to empty bank accounts in hours.

What has changed is scale and speed. Before, criminals needed spies, informants, or days of surveillance. Now, with social media, targets voluntarily provide this intelligence themselves, reaching millions within seconds.

The “digital aristocracy”—influencers, crypto millionaires, business coaches, self-proclaimed gurus, and media consultants—are simply the latest iteration of a timeless pattern: visible wealth creates opportunity for crime. 

Their responsibility is twofold. 

First, to protect themselves. 

Second, to protect the confidentiality of their clients. Yet many in this sphere treat their client list as marketing collateral, publicly dropping names to prove their credibility. 

Such practice not only jeopardizes trust but also exposes clients to unnecessary risk. 

What should be safeguarded as sensitive data is instead broadcast to the world—providing criminals with yet another layer of exploitable intelligence.

The Growing Threat: Kidnapping and Ransom in the Digital Age

The 2022 Global Kidnap & Ransom Report by Control Risks confirms a stark reality: criminals increasingly rely on social media intelligence to identify and monitor targets (Control Risks, 2022).

Consider these real-world cases:

• Chloe Ayling (2018)—the British model kidnapped in Milan, her online profiles giving criminals clues to her movements [Wikipedia†].

• Kerim Satir (2020)—a Turkish crypto influencer robbed and held for ransom after flaunting luxury cars and cash online (The Guardian, 2020).

• In 2025, police are investigating a series of abductions that target cryptocurrency millionaires, as attackers are explicitly exploiting the victims’ digital visibility (The Guardian, 2025).

The trend is clear: social media has blurred the line between public persona and personal security.

Crypto Traders: A New Class of Target

Cryptocurrency has introduced a new, highly attractive target group. Unlike traditional banking, stolen crypto cannot be frozen or traced back easily. All it takes is a password.

In Hong Kong, another trader suffered a similar fate, with criminals forcing him at knifepoint to drain his digital assets (South China Morning Post, 2020).

The lengths to which some go to protect themselves illustrate the danger. One crypto family hid fragment of their digital wallet codes on four continents to deter kidnapping attempts (Gizmodo, 2025).

The message is clear: in crypto, unlike fiat banking, visibility equals vulnerability.

Criminal Modus Operandi—How Abductions Are Engineered

As an investigator, I am aware that criminals seldom act impulsively. The process of targeting an influencer or trader usually follows a calculated pattern:

1. Target Identification—Criminals use platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and X to spot individuals flaunting wealth. Algorithms themselves amplify such content, making discovery effortless.

2. Digital Profiling—Using OSINT tools, criminals harvest geotags, photos, family details, and daily routines. Each post serves as a crucial component in the puzzle.

3. Surveillance & Approach—Once enough intelligence is gathered, criminals shadow movements, waiting for moments of vulnerability—airport arrivals, hotel stays, or solo travel.

4. Abduction or Extortion—Victims may be abducted physically or targeted through “virtual kidnaps,” where criminals threaten family members using believable details (ICSR, 2019).

5. Exploitation: ransom is demanded in cash or cryptocurrency. Unlike traditional crime, crypto ransoms are instant and irreversible, making recovery nearly impossible.

This modus operandi is efficient, low-cost, and devastatingly effective—because the victims unknowingly supply the raw intelligence themselves.

The Psychological Toll on Victims and Their Families

Kidnapping is not just a financial crime—it is a psychological battlefield. Survivors often describe feeling betrayed by their own visibility.

Victims like Chloe Ayling have spoken of lasting trauma, fear of travel, and inability to trust strangers. Families of abducted crypto traders describe sleepless nights, fearing that every phone call could be a ransom demand.

Even when “virtual kidnaps” occur—with no physical abduction—the panic and anxiety inflicted on families can be severe enough to trigger immediate financial losses.

For criminals, fear is the weapon. For victims, the scars are lasting.

The Psychology of Oversharing – Why We Still Do It

Why do people keep exposing themselves despite such risks? The answer lies in the economics of visibility.

• Validation Addiction—likes, shares, and comments create dopamine rewards.

• Influencer Economy—Sponsorships reward extravagance; the more luxury displayed, the more followers gained.

• False Security—many thinks, “It won’t happen to me,” until it does.

But influencers, gurus, and consultants fail to understand that algorithms do not distinguish between admirers and predators. 

To criminals, every flexed luxury watch, client name-drop, or screenshot of crypto gains is an invitation.

Here are five things that influencers and traders must stop sharing

To reduce risk, here are five non-negotiable rules:

1. Stop Sharing Real-Time Locations – Never geotag posts while present. Share only after leaving (Forbes, 2019).

2. Stop Flaunting Wealth—Cash, jewellery, and luxury cars all act as “wanted posters” for criminals.

3. Stop Revealing Family and Client Details—Schools, relatives, or client names are ammunition for extortion and exploitation.

4. Stop Exposing Wallets and Balances—Screenshots of earnings are breadcrumbs for cyber and physical crime.

5. Please refrain from announcing travel plans, as posting itineraries can inadvertently share your schedule with others.

Best Practices—Staying Visible, Staying Safe

Influencers, traders, and consultants can remain visible without being vulnerable. Best practices include:

• Restrict audience visibility with strong privacy settings.

• Use two-factor authentication across all accounts.

• Regularly audit and delete sensitive old posts.

• Limit travel-related posting until after returning.

• Educate family, staff, and clients not to reveal sensitive details online.

• Work with security consultants if your profile is high-risk.

• Establish crisis protocols—emergency contacts, safe words, and escape plans.

These measures are not paranoia—they are necessary resilience.

A Dramatic Wake-Up Call

Social media thrives on visibility, but predators thrive on the same. 

Every post is a data point; every boast is a breadcrumb, leading a criminal to your door.

As I learned in investigations and human intelligence work, silence is strength. Today, silence online can mean survival.

For influencers, crypto traders, business coaches, and consultants: your silence is no longer about vanity. It is about responsibility. 

This responsibility extends to your life, your family, and those who entrust you with their data and safety.

The price of ignoring this truth is not measured in lost followers, but in ransom paid, lives endangered, and futures destroyed.

The final question remains: will you continue to trade your safety for attention, or will you finally learn the lesson intelligence operatives have known for decades—less is more, and silence saves lives?

Introduction

Before I dive into the heart of this article and share with you the modus operandi of the coaching industry—and how, in reality, you make them rich while you are enjoying a 10-page PDF “master plan”—I want to take a step back and explain why I am analysing and researching the phenomenon called the “coaching” industry.

Once upon a time, I was working in the Ministry of Defence, and I spent just a little bit over 1,800 combat days. 

My journey included military intelligence services and diplomatic intelligence, and during my trainings, courses, and university, I was told that it is important to understand HOW something is done—the Modus Operandi—not only WHO.

We (operatives and interrogators) were trained to understand what tools, ideas, and deceptive tactics perpetrators utilize to create and reach their goal—financial gain or something more sinister.

So, I want to show and teach those interested in prevention how to do it, not who did it and why. 

After all, “Prevention is better than cure,” as I was always told.

Locating Magical Wand and My Own Guru / Coach

The last few weeks, I embarked on an unusual journey. Not to an exotic island or a war zone—I’ve done both—but into the glittering, high-definition world of modern “success creation.” 

I aspired to locate the elusive individual wielding a magical wand, capable of transforming me into a wealthy, renowned, prosperous, alluring, and, ultimately, the most acclaimed entrepreneur of our era.

Naturally, I didn’t want just any coach. I wanted my coach. I desired a coach who could transform my income from zero to seven figures before the arrival of my next electricity bill. 

And apparently, the market is overflowing with such saviours: NLP Master Coaches, Abundance Architects, and Seven-Figure Mentors who all seem to live in a parallel universe where human biology is optional and the clock bends to their will.

One such coach, with the sincerity of a saint and the confidence of a used-car salesman, explained that for just $5,000, they could teach me how to turn a 24-hour day into 36. I smiled politely, but deep down, I knew I had already learned in school both how to count and how the sun works.

Another coach offered to reveal why formal education is irrelevant to success—for the small fee of $999. This, I thought, was an intriguing bargain: abandon years of structured learning in favour of a three-day PDF course and a few motivational Instagram posts.

It didn’t take long for me to notice a pattern. 

Within the first few conversations, I learned three “essential truths” of the modern coaching gospel:
You don’t need school. You don’t need sleep. You just need to pay them.

The Digital Clairvoyants

What’s fascinating—and slightly unnerving—is how quickly my devices began conspiring to help me. 

My phone, my laptop, and even my social media feeds transformed into a clairvoyant marketplace, each platform delivering me a fresh coach with an even bigger promise. 

This isn’t magic; it’s data collection. The moment I went looking, the algorithm decided I needed to see every guru within Wi-Fi range.

It reminded me of when my son received an Alexa as a prize. I quickly realized that “Hey Alexa” is less of a trigger phrase and more of a polite nod to a device that is always listening. I unplugged it soon after.

The Guru Blueprint

The deeper I looked, the more I saw the same playbook recycled.

First, education is framed as irrelevant, even suspicious. Why pursue years of proven training when you can become “self-made” over a weekend? This “anti-academic” pitch is convenient for those with no formal qualifications—there’s nothing to measure them against.

Second, you need a website so shiny it could guide ships to shore. It must feature:

• • A jawline that could cut glass.

  • A “hook” video filmed in an empty conference hall or rented boardroom.

Third, the numbers must be astronomical. “I’ve coached over 300,000 people” is a popular claim. No one audits these figures, and if you check their social media, the audience size doesn’t match.

Lastly, the showcase of wealth is presented. 

Renting jets, leasing Lamborghinis, and borrowing designer watches are common practices. 

Selling the dream requires a backdrop of abundance, even if it’s just a facade.

The Science of Hype

This is where the science of hype becomes insightful.

These events and seminars work—at least for a while—because of human psychology, not the content. Research into emotional contagion shows that our brains sync to the emotions of those around us. 

Put someone in a cheering, clapping crowd, and they’ll start to believe they’ve just had a life-changing moment, even if all they heard was a sales pitch.

Add social proof—the belief that if hundreds of people are clapping, the coach must be worth it—and the dopamine starts flowing. This chemical hit is the same you get from winning a prize or falling in love. It’s addictive.

And then there’s urgency. Robert Cialdini’s persuasion principles prove that scarcity (“only 10 spots left!”) short-circuits our logical thinking. 

Suddenly, handing over $3,000 feels like grabbing the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

The Morning After

The issue lies in the fleeting nature of hype.

When the lights dim and the music fades, you step back into your real life. The bills are still due. Your boss still doesn’t appreciate you. 

The confidence you felt in the seminar hall now feels more like a distant dream.

Many people chase the feeling, booking the next workshop or retreat, spending more in the hope that this moment will be the one that finally sticks. It rarely does. 

Without sustained, structured support, the high evaporates, leaving the wallet lighter and the cynicism heavier.

The Security Risks of Flaunting Success

There’s also a darker side to this. In my professional career, I’ve seen people become targets for crime simply because they advertised their wealth online. 

Flashing cash, designer goods, and exact locations on social media is like leaving your front door open with a neon “Welcome” sign.

Government agencies have warned against such oversharing, linking it to socially engineered attacks and real-world crimes:

• • Oversharing dangers – Australian Digital Health Agency

  • The risks of salary transparency – LinkedIn

Real success requires vigilance and discretion, not broadcasting your vulnerabilities to the world.

The Universal Fix… That Isn’t

The most suspicious promise of all is universality. One coach claims their method works for everyone: the factory worker, the CEO, the student, and the retiree. 

They use the same PDF, deliver the same pep talk, and use the same hype video. It’s the fast-food model of personal development—identical, processed, and served with extra cheese.

The truth? Genuine mentorship is personal. It requires adaptation, listening, and a track record of success that can be verified, not just imagined.

The Reality Check

Coaches, gurus, and NLP practitioners can be valuable—if they’re credible, experienced, and capable of tailoring their guidance. 

However, the industry’s dazzling façade conceals a harsh reality: a significant portion of the offerings are merely theatrical.

Is it truly a magic wand? The concept of a 36-hour day remains a fantasy. Is the 36-hour day a reality? 

Not happening. Does the seven-figure success story hold true? These success stories are often more fiction than reality.

So next time a coach promises to change your life for the price of a luxury holiday, ask yourself: Are you buying transformation… or just a ticket to the show?

Introduction: 

The failure to communicate clearly isn’t always fatal—but occasionally, it nearly is.

Just recently, I was at my local gym. As usual, after a solid workout, I headed to the sauna. There’s an obvious sign at the door: “Must have towel in sauna.” This is a standard precautionary measure. No surprises.

But inside, a gym employee noticed a woman sitting without a towel. He politely asked her—several times—why she didn’t have one and whether she needed one. Her response? “9 o’clock.”

It was obvious she misunderstood the question. She likely meant she was leaving at 9am. Only when another gentleman explained—in a language only the two of them shared—that a towel was required, did she realize what was being asked.

Now, imagine if this query wasn’t about towels. What if she’d felt unwell? What if there was an emergency? If we can’t communicate about the small things, what happens when the stakes are high?

As someone who survived 1,800 consecutive days in combat—where silence could mean safety, but clarity meant survival—I’ve learned one lesson above all: communication is the most powerful weapon we have, not just on the battlefield, but in boardrooms, offices, and our daily lives.

A Legacy of Communication: Lessons from History

Let us begin where many stories of strategy begin—ancient Rome.

The phrase “I love treason but hate a traitor” is often attributed to Julius Caesar. Though not directly recorded, it encapsulates a truth Caesar understood better than most: betrayal is often seeded in misunderstanding. 

His empire wasn’t built on weapons alone, but on the intelligent manipulation of tribal alliances, mistrust, and yes—language barriers.

Caesar’s strategy of division and conquest frequently relied on preventing tribes from uniting under a common cause. 

He exploited linguistic differences—knowing that language is not just a tool of speech but a line of identity, culture, and power. If the Gauls couldn’t communicate across clans, they couldn’t organize a unified resistance. It wasn’t just about swords. It was about speech.

Centuries later, a more honourable use of language barriers turned into a pivotal moment in World War II. The U.S. military employed Navajo code talkers, whose complex, unwritten language formed an unbreakable code. 

Even the most advanced enemy cryptographers couldn’t decipher it. Why? This is because language—real, cultural, human language—cannot be easily decoded without understanding the people who create and use it.

In both cases, language wasn’t just communication. It was strategy. It was defense. The outcome was crucial.

My Lessons in War: Communication First, Action Second

My own military training, both before and during the war, emphasized a fundamental principle: establishing communication from a high position.

This wasn’t simply about technology or radios. It was about ensuring we had a clear line of sight and understanding. 

Before bullets flew, before decisions were made, before the enemy moved—we needed to talk. And we needed to listen.

There were times when miscommunication nearly cost lives. It wasn’t a case of cowardice or treachery, but rather a misinterpretation of an order. 

Two soldiers from different parts of the same country used different slang, which led to miscommunication. An interpreter mistranslated a village elder’s plea. Misheard words are difficult to retract.

Even in the intelligence world, where I operated later, miscommunication was the deadliest virus. A single misplaced phrase in a diplomatic message could undo months of progress. 

Clarity wasn’t a luxury. It was survival.

The Language Barrier at Work: Modern Battlefield of Misunderstanding

Now let’s move beyond the battlefield into another type of war: the modern workplace.

In today’s globalized world, multicultural workplaces reflect evolving economies, immigration, and global collaboration. But with diversity comes a new challenge—language barriers that frustrate productivity and erode psychological safety.

One Reddit user recently shared:

“I feel like I’m constantly misunderstood at work. I speak English, but not natively. My jokes fall flat. My emails sound cold. I’m doing the job, but I feel invisible.”

This isn’t a small problem. It’s systemic. In environments where communication is key—client services, project management, healthcare—even small linguistic gaps can lead to alienation, mistakes, and loss of trust.

Another expat wrote:

“It’s not just about speaking English. It’s about speaking their English. Understanding the cultural context is crucial. The idioms. I know the words—but not the code.”

In other words, it’s not just what you say; it’s how you’re understood. And if you’ve ever been left out of a joke or a decision because you didn’t “get the tone,” you’ve felt the sting of communication breakdown.

The Human Element: Why Communication Is the Real Battlefield

In my recent article, “Why Weapons Can’t Win Wars Without the Human Element,” I argued that, despite the sophistication of modern warfare, success still depends on human understanding.

A drone can strike. A missile can detonate. But only humans can understand nuance, emotion, and intention—the critical factors that decide whether a decision ends in diplomacy or destruction.

Language is the bridge between intention and impact. And whether you’re giving battlefield coordinates or feedback in a team meeting, misunderstanding creates more damage than any weapon.

This phenomenon applies not just to military operations or multinational companies, but to everyday life—marriages, friendships, and parenting. How often do we say something we think is clear, only to realize it landed the wrong way? How often do we argue not over facts but over the meaning behind the words?

We don’t need more noise. We need more clarity. More listening. We need to communicate in a more common language.

A Call to Action: Clarity Is a Discipline

What can we learn from Caesar, the Navajo Code Talkers, and our own daily missteps?

1. Speak to be understood, not just heard.
   Use plain language. Confirm understanding. Choose clarity over cleverness.

2. Know your audience.
   Just because someone speaks your language doesn’t mean they share your cultural code.

3. Create environments where people can ask for clarification—without shame.
   In combat, hesitation can kill. In life, it can isolate.

4. In multicultural teams, treat language diversity not as a barrier but as a training opportunity.
   Celebrate it. Educate around it. Build communication bridges before building expectations.

5. Never assume understanding. Always confirm it.
   Repeat back. Summarize. Ask, “Does that make sense?”—and mean it.

In War and in Work, Clarity Wins

In the end, communication isn’t just a skill. It’s a leadership trait. It’s a survival mechanism. It’s a sign of respect.

Weapons may secure a battlefield. Strategies may win a campaign. But only clear communication can unite people—whether they wear a uniform, a suit, or just carry the weight of being misunderstood in a foreign land.

Speak clearly. Listen harder. Translate not just words but meaning.

Understanding each other is crucial for survival and victory in life’s battlegrounds.

Introduction: 

In the process of writing my latest book on the business of podcasting, a striking realization stopped me mid-sentence: I had once accepted advice about my podcast from people who had never even hosted one.

It seems obvious now—but in the early stages of building “Life The Battlefield”, a podcast that now has over 250,000 subscribers and 4.9 million+ views, I was overwhelmed with offers from self-proclaimed experts.

Business coaches. Branding consultants. They were also referred to as social media strategists.

They all assured me that their “system” would propel me to success.

But they had never held a microphone, edited a second of audio, or stood behind the hard work of growing a show from zero.

And that’s when I remembered a principle from my military intelligence days that changed everything: never take instructions on how to use a weapon from someone who has never fired it under pressure.

The Epidemic of Unqualified Expertise

According to a 2024 Global Coaching Study by the International Coaching Federation (ICF), more than 67% of people who market themselves as coaches do not hold any verified credential.

Even more troubling, many are selling expertise in industries they’ve never worked in.

The coaching and self-help market, now worth over $20 billion globally, thrives on perception rather than proof.

Business Insider reported in 2023 that up to 65% of small business owners regretted purchasing online courses, mentorships, or marketing plans that yielded no measurable return on investment.

In short, we’ve entered an age of expert inflation.

People confuse visibility with credibility.

Podcasting Is Not a Formula—It’s a Discipline

Podcasting today is one of the fastest-growing communication tools in business and personal branding. A 2025 Edison Research Report showed that 64% of podcast listeners say they trust podcast hosts more than traditional media personalities.

But here’s the hidden danger: as podcasting becomes more mainstream, opportunists flood the market, claiming they can build your brand—even if they’ve never done it themselves.

Early on, I succumbed to this trap. I paid for advice, strategies, and coaching that sounded impressive but delivered nothing. No growth. No clarity. There were only empty buzzwords that had been recycled from a thousand Instagram carousels.

It was only when I stopped outsourcing my voice to strangers and began applying battle-tested knowledge that results came.

Lessons From the Battlefield

In military intelligence, our survival depended on learning from seasoned professionals who had used the tools they taught. When we were trained in handling surveillance equipment or firearms like the SIG Sauer or M4, the instruction didn’t come from a theorist or a TikTok creator.

It came from people who had used those weapons under fire.

Why? Because real knowledge is not read—it’s earned.

Podcasting is no different.

If someone has never struggled with scheduling guests, editing audio late at night, troubleshooting bad sound, managing public backlash, or growing an audience one subscriber at a time—what are they really teaching you?

Real Mentorship Requires Real Scars

I now choose to learn only from practitioners. I choose to learn from individuals who have both personal and professional scars. Real podcasters. Real entrepreneurs. Real fighters.

As Harvard Business Review pointed out in their 2022 piece titled “Why Great Mentors Matter More Than Ever,” the most impactful mentors offer experience-based guidance, not motivational clichés.

They share their mistakes. They provide applicable advice. And most importantly, they know the field because they’ve walked it.

If you’re building a business or podcast, you don’t need inspiration—you need instruction. You should seek guidance not from a spectator, but from an experienced professional.

The New Rules of Advice

Here’s how I now vet anyone offering me guidance:

1. Have they done what I’m trying to do—successfully?
   Not once. Not 10 years ago. However, they have been consistent and active recently.

2. Do they have verifiable results and testimonials?
   I’m not concerned about follower count. I care about impact.

3. Have they experienced and overcome failure?
   If they haven’t bled for what they preach, I’m not listening.

4. Is their advice tailored or templated?
   Cookie-cutter strategies kill creativity. I want context, not copy-paste.

Conclusion: Advice Is a Compass—Point It True North

Too many people fail not because they lacked drive, intelligence, or vision—but because they followed a map drawn by someone who had never been to their destination.

This article serves not as a cautionary tale, but rather as a call to action. Make sure to conduct thorough research before seeking mentorship, coaching, or advice for your business or podcast. You shouldn’t waste your time, money, and message on marketing theory.

I don’t regret the mistakes I made. I learned from them. I rebuilt my show, rebuilt my voice, and returned to what I knew best—fieldcraft, truth, and resilience.

The right voice at the right time can change your life.

But what if you choose the incorrect one?

The wrong voice can bury your dreams before they have even taken breath.

So ask yourself: Who’s holding the compass? And have they ever walked your battlefield?

Introduction: When Silence Became the Loudest Weapon

I remember the precise moment when something in the air shifted.

It was September 1990, and I was standing in the grey streets of Croatia—not yet a soldier, not yet at war—but already living inside a quiet rebellion.

The newspapers had changed their tone. For the first time in my life, I saw headlines that did not praise the Socialist Republic of Yugoslavia but hinted at national identity, sovereignty, and freedom.

On the radio, songs once forbidden were suddenly permitted. Nationalistic melodies, long erased from public life, were now echoing again—softly at first, as if testing the limits of censorship, and then louder, prouder.

That day, I noticed something even stranger: there were two types of police on the street. One wore the insignia of the newly emerging Croatian state; the other still carried the emblems of socialist Yugoslavia. 

The streets had become a stage for silent confrontation. Meanwhile, the Yugoslav People’s Army stood in the shadows, unmoving, calculating, and waiting for the right moment to strike.

I grew up in a communist system that taught us silence, fear, and obedience. 

We whispered in our kitchens, looked over our shoulders, and learned early how to speak without speaking. Years later, I would go to war. 

But before the bullets and blood, there was a revolution of ink, music, laughter, and resistance without a single gunshot—the kind that changed the world without firing a bullet.

This article is about those revolutions—the ones fought with yogurt, with theatre, with whispered songs—and the underground networks of communication that kept them alive in the shadows of surveillance states.

The Anatomy of a Nonviolent Revolution

Nonviolent revolution is often misunderstood as passive or weak. 

In truth, it is strategic psychological warfare, designed to dismantle authoritarian power structures by undermining their legitimacy and morale.

Political scientist Gene Sharp, in his seminal work The Politics of Nonviolent Action, documented 198 methods of civil resistance—from symbolic public acts and mass petitions to strikes, silent vigils, and humor-based ridicule of state power. 

Instead of directly confronting the regime, these tactics employ a strategy known as “political jiu-jitsu” to turn its violence and rigidity against itself.

In societies where secret police monitor every word, and expressing dissent can mean death, nonviolent tools are not soft—they are intelligent. 

They appeal to mass participation while minimizing the physical risk to individuals, making repression more costly for the regime and increasing public sympathy for the resistance.

Speaking Without Words: Theatres, Songs, and Code in East Germany

In East Germany (GDR), one of the most tightly surveilled states in history, dissent had to be coded, cultural, and covert.

Churches such as Leipzig’s Nikolaikirche became gathering places for prayer and peace vigils. These meetings were technically legal—religion was tolerated—but they served as psychological training grounds for mass resistance.

Protesters didn’t yell slogans; they lit candles. That symbolism could not be crushed without the regime revealing its brutality.

The Stasi, East Germany’s secret police, had over 90,000 employees and nearly 200,000 informants by 1989. Under such conditions, resistance evolved into a language of metaphor:

• • Underground theatre performances used allegorical plots to critique control.

  • Rock musicians incorporate political messages into their lyrics.

  • Graffiti artists employ abstract images instead of direct calls to protest.

  • Samizdat literature was distributed by hand, with each copy being manually typed.

The regime couldn’t arrest a song or ban a metaphor—not without confirming its paranoia. In the end, East Germans didn’t shout down the wall—they sang it down. 

On November 9, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, not with explosives, but with people peacefully flooding the checkpoints, emboldened by years of coded resistance.

Field Notes from Berlin: Walking the Path of Resistance

Last year, I walked the streets of Berlin—not as a tourist, but as a researcher retracing the forgotten footprints of resistance. I visited the Stasi Museum, stood inside the interrogation rooms, and studied how ordinary East Germans risked everything to defy the regime. 

What struck me most was not the brutality of the state but the creativity of the people. 

Resistance lived in hidden symbols: poems typed on tissue paper, theatre plays with subversive metaphors, and rock bands with double meanings. 

I spoke with archivists and survivors who reminded me that you didn’t fight the Stasi with fists—you fought with trust, whispers, and imagination. That same spirit echoes in every nonviolent movement across history.

The Yogurt Hits the Wall: Albania’s Peaceful Insurrection

In 1990, Albania was Europe’s last Stalinist state. Isolated, impoverished, and ruled by the iron-fisted Party of Labour, it had banned religion, private ownership, and nearly all forms of independent expression.

But the revolution that came was unexpectedly… dairy based.

As protests swelled in the northern city of Shkodër, demonstrators threw containers of yogurt at police and state buildings. 

Why yogurt? 

Yogurt was a cheap, symbolic, and non-lethal weapon. Unlike rocks or Molotov cocktails, yogurt could not be portrayed as violent aggression—yet it covered uniforms in humiliation and defiance.

Soon, students across Albania joined the movement, using ridicule and absurdity to disarm the regime. Protesters mocked official slogans, staged sit-ins dressed as clowns, and exposed the regime’s contradictions using satirical posters and parody songs.

Crucially, these tactics forced the government into a dilemma: either ignore the protests (which encouraged more) or crack down (which exposed their fear).

 Eventually, the regime collapsed, paving the way for the first democratic elections in 1992.

Yugoslavia: When the Revolution Turned Violent

Unlike Albania or East Germany, Yugoslavia’s breakup descended into war. The reason? Nationalist manipulation and ethnic propaganda outpaced nonviolent resistance.

While Slovenia’s Ten-Day War in 1991 was a quick and media-savvy move toward independence, the situation in Croatia and Bosnia devolved into full-scale conflict. 

Militant leaders used television, radio, and newspapers to incite hatred—the same communication tools once used for resistance were now weapons of psychological warfare.

But even here, nonviolent movements persisted.

In Serbia during the 1990s, the youth-led group Otpor! rose in defiance of Slobodan Milošević’s authoritarian grip. 

They used graffiti, viral humor, theatrical protest, and mock funerals of the regime to ridicule power. Instead of using slogans like “freedom” or “democracy,” Otpor asked absurd questions such as “Got milk?” accompanied by a picture of Milošević.

The security services were confused. Should they arrest teenagers for drawing stick figures? Beat up students holding birthday parties for democracy?

Eventually, Milošević fell—not to NATO bombs or tanks, but to a critical mass of defiance spread across humour, symbols, and strategic civil disobedience.

The Modern Blueprint: From Rice Pudding to Lego Men

Recently, student-led movements across Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and Latin America have adopted a new playbook for nonviolent resistance, building on the past.

These methods are unconventional:

• • These methods include the use of Lego figures adorned with protest signs in public squares.

  • One method involves organizing pillow fights in front of government buildings.

  • One strategy involves holding up mirrors to riot police, forcing them to see their own reflection.

  • They use rice pudding as a symbol of “soft but persistent” resistance.

This strategy has proven to be effective for the following reasons:

• • Evades censorship.

  • This strategy garners widespread attention.

  • It elicits emotional reactions such as humour, shame, and curiosity.

  • This strategy weakens the moral authority of the regime without inciting deadly retaliation.

These tactics draw heavily from psychological principles—particularly the use of shame, absurdity, and empathy as tools of influence. They are not accidental; they are strategic.

Outwitting the Watchers: Communication Under Surveillance

Communication played a crucial role in all these revolutions.

In Yugoslavia, people learned to speak in codes—using family metaphors, nicknames, or half-sentences that only made sense if you knew the context. 

We never said “revolution”—we” said “things are changing.” We didn’t say “freedom”—we” said “the air is lighter.”

Phone lines were tapped, mail was read, and neighbours were informants. But people adapted:

• • They met at weddings, funerals, and church services to exchange information.

  • They smuggled books inside flour bags.

  • They created networks of trust, where even body language and eye contact conveyed meaning.

These survival tactics—refined under surveillance—are now used by activists in places like Iran, China, and Belarus. 

While the tools have evolved to include encrypted apps instead of paper notes, the principles remain unchanged: safeguard the message by placing trust in the messenger.

Conclusion: Life Is Still the Battlefield—But Now We Fight with Symbols

Looking back, I now realize that the most powerful revolutions are those that don’t look like revolutions at all. They begin in whispered songs, in chalk drawings, and in absurd jokes that make dictators look foolish instead of feared.

As someone who later fought in war—who saw firsthand what happens when the bullets replace the metaphors—I believe the silent revolution is the braver path. It requires patience, wit, trust, and courage without a uniform.

In a world where propaganda is slicker and surveillance more invasive, the fight continues—not just in the streets but in the minds and hearts of people. 

Sometimes, the power of a yogurt pot surpasses that of a gun.

Introduction: The New Digital Ambush

Every day, I receive emails and social media messages from complete strangers—most claiming they’ve cracked the code to YouTube success or SEO dominance. 

The wording changes, but the intent doesn’t. “Dear Sir, I can boost your subscribers.” “Hi, I noticed your website isn’t ranking.” 

These aren’t coincidences—they are calculated digital ambushes, targeting business owners who are simply trying to grow.

We are bombarded daily. Every day, we receive dozens of emails, direct messages, and cold pitches. They’re relentless. 

And the scary part? Many come just when you’re most vulnerable—after a slow week, a declined sale, or the feeling you’re falling behind.

These scammers know who to target and when. They prey on frustration, ambition, and urgency. You want results. They want your trust. They skilfully take advantage of this trust.

What seems like a business opportunity is often the first thread in a trap designed to unravel your reputation and your revenue.

The False Promise of Easy Growth

In the ever-growing digital economy, businesses around the world—especially small and medium enterprises—are fighting to stand out. 

Desperate for visibility and growth, many are falling into the hands of overseas scammers posing as digital marketing experts. 

These individuals and companies, often based in India, Pakistan, and parts of Southeast Asia, have created a web of deceit that is costing legitimate businesses their money, time, and, in some cases, their reputations.

It starts with an innocent-looking message—often on LinkedIn, email, or via social media platforms. “Hi sir, I noticed your YouTube channel. I can help you get 10,000 subscribers in 10 days.” 

The offer is tempting. The price? Too good to be true. This is indeed the case.

These scammers pitch aggressive promises of SEO rankings, YouTube subscriber growth, link-building strategies, and even influencer marketing—all without proof, transparency, or accountability. 

Their websites are often well-designed and riddled with fake testimonials. They might even reference past triumphant campaigns, either manufactured or pilfered from authentic agencies.

The Five-Step Modus Operandi

Step 1: The Hook

They initiate contact with flattery or fear. “Your content deserves more reach,” or “You’re losing business by not ranking higher.”

Step 2: The Offer

They propose a cheap, quick solution—boost subscribers, rank #1 on Google, or drive thousands of followers. They offer these services at a significantly lower cost than typical agency fees.

Step 3: The Access

They insist on login credentials “to improve performance” or “optimize settings.” This is where the real danger begins.

Step 4: The Manipulation

They deliver fake results—bot traffic, spam backlinks, or paid likes—just enough to keep you hopeful. Meanwhile, they’re damaging your digital reputation.

Step 5: The Exit

Once suspicion arises or the payment dries up, they vanish. No support. No refund. No recourse.

Real-World Damage: Victims Speak Out

In one recent case, a Wisconsin-based bakery lost over $1,000 after engaging with a so-called marketing consultant found on Fiverr. 

Promises of local SEO growth and increased foot traffic led to unauthorized changes on their website and the installation of shady plugins. 

When the business owner tried to reverse the damage, the consultant had vanished, and Fiverr offered little help.

A Tech Business News report in Australia warned local businesses against hiring digital marketers through Fiverr or similar marketplaces, highlighting the growing number of fake SEO and link-building services. 

Many of these services involve the creation of thousands of low-quality backlinks on questionable websites—something that not only fails to improve rankings but can get a website blacklisted by search engines.

In the Philippines, a June 2025 Interaksyon report exposed the growing trend of scam messages targeting business owners via SMS and social media. 

Posing as recruiters, marketers, or virtual assistants, they lure entrepreneurs into giving access to sensitive accounts, which are later used for phishing, data harvesting, or ad fraud.

Sophisticated Operations: A Global Industry of Deceit

Vocal Media also documented how these scams networks have industrialized their tactics. In India, entire call centres dedicate themselves to impersonating SEO specialists. 

Employees follow pre-written scripts and fake portfolios. Deepfake testimonials are becoming more common, mimicking real clients who never actually existed.

One Melbourne business owner, interviewed anonymously, shared how a $5,000 monthly “growth package” from a supposed international SEO expert led to a 60% drop in organic traffic within three months. 

Google flagged the business due to the consultant’s work, which primarily consisted of link farms and spun content. It took nearly a year for the business to recover.

The Psychological Warfare of a Scam

Perhaps the most insidious aspect is psychological. These scammers know exactly when to strike. This phenomenon occurs when your engagement begins to decline. Your conversions may stall at this point. 

Self-doubt begins to surface. They’re watching—and they weaponize your ambition.

Their tactics aren’t just technical—they’re emotional. By exploiting insecurity and urgency, they bypass logic and build trust on false ground.

What makes such schemes even more dangerous is how victims often feel too ashamed to speak up. 

Admitting that you’ve fallen victim to a scam, particularly in the business realm, can equate to admitting incompetence. But silence only enables these scams to spread.

Conclusion: Visibility is Vital, But Vigilance is Everything 

In a digital world where growth is paramount, the distinction between legitimate opportunity and predatory deception has blurred, ensnaring even the savviest among us.

Individual vigilance, which demands verified case studies, meticulously vets’ testimonials, and never surrenders full platform access without ironclad contractual safeguards, is no longer sufficient.

The digital battlefield is indeed “littered with fake gurus,” but silence is their most potent ally.

This isn’t just a story of digital deception. This story serves as a crucial warning.

• • Business owners must be vigilant.

  • Ask for verified case studies.

  • Cross-reference testimonials.

  • Avoid giving full access to any platform without contractual safeguards.

  • And above all, understand that real digital marketing success doesn’t come overnight.

The digital battlefield is littered with fake gurus and shadowy operators promising the world but delivering ruin.

We must begin identifying these individuals, publicly denouncing them, and educating others to prevent more businesses from falling victim to their deceptive tactics.

If you’ve been a victim, understand that you are not alone, nor are you incompetent. You are a survivor of sophisticated psychological manipulation. Your narrative is an essential component of the overall picture.

By speaking up, you don’t just heal yourself; you equip countless others to avoid the same fate. We need to normalize these conversations, turning shame into a catalyst for change.

Modern marketing necessitates visibility, yet maintaining vigilance is crucial.

Introduction: 

Dubai. The very name evokes images of towering skyscrapers, luxury cars, golden beaches, and dreams turned real. 

It is a city I have visited many times, and each time I have admired its boldness, its vision, and the belief that hard work pays off. 

But behind the architectural marvels and promises of prosperity lies a lesser-known reality—a shadow world of deception, where hope is weaponized, emotions are manipulated, and dreams are baited to hook victims into elaborate scams.

Having traversed through warzones, trained in the art of interrogation, and dedicated a lifetime to uncovering the hidden aspects of human behaviour, I can unequivocally assert that anyone can succumb to a scam. 

It has nothing to do with intelligence. It has everything to do with timing, emotions, and the predator’s understanding of your vulnerabilities. 

And in places like Dubai, where dreams and illusions coexist, scammers thrive.

The Dream Job That Never Was

Dubai is marketed as a city of opportunity. For many foreigners, especially from developing nations, it symbolizes a better future. 

The city’s towering skyline and promise of tax-free income are enough to convince thousands every year to pursue jobs there.

But that dream has become a prime target for scammers. 

These fraudsters exploit the aspirations of job seekers, often advertising high-paying roles on social media or unofficial websites. 

Once contact is made, they request upfront payments under the guise of “visa fees,” “medical tests,” or “processing charges.”

The job does not exist. The money, often the last of a family’s savings, disappears without any trace.

According to Khaleej Times and Gulf News, this type of fraud is alarmingly common. 

The Pakistani embassy has warned against bogus job offers, while reports from Tempo highlighted that over 823 Indonesians fell victim to such fake recruitment schemes.

When I travelled through Southeast Asia, I saw the same playbook in Bali and Thailand. 

But one of the most disturbing examples I came across involved Cambodia’s so-called “scam farms.” In a recent Reuters investigation, a Thai teenager described how he had to throw himself from a building to escape one of these operations. 

He had been lured across the border with promises of legitimate employment, only to find himself held captive, forced to run elaborate online scams under the threat of violence.

The brutality of that environment—beatings, surveillance, and psychological torment—shows how far these fraudulent operations can go. 

It’s not just a job scam anymore; it’s forced labour, human trafficking, and digital crime intertwined. 

These industrial-level scam factories are often hidden behind promises of opportunity, and once you’re inside, escape can be physically and emotionally devastating. 

Young people applying for fake internships or “modelling opportunities” were told they had to pay upfront fees.

The common denominator? Hope. These scams work because people dare to believe in a better life.

How to Protect Yourself:

• • Never pay upfront for a job. Legitimate employers will never charge you.

  • Verify job offers through the UAE’s Ministry of Human Resources and Emiratisation (MOHRE).

  • Check the company’s online presence. Are they listed on LinkedIn? Do they have a verified website?

  • Speak to someone who works there. Reach out via LinkedIn or alumni networks.

The Illusion of Love—The Tinder Trap

Another side of the Dubai scam industry is much more personal—and potentially more devastating: romance scams.

Imagine you’re a solo traveller or new expat in Dubai. You open Tinder. 

You match with someone who is attractive, eloquent, and shows genuine interest. Conversations progress quickly. Soon, you’re invited out for a drink.

But this is no ordinary date. It’s a setup.

The venue is usually a stylish, lesser-known nightclub. Drinks flow. Laughter is shared. Then your date excuses herself. She never returns. 

The bill arrives, and it is quite substantial. 

The bill totals thousands of dirhams. And when you protest, security staff pressure you to pay, sometimes with intimidation. The woman? She was part of the scam.

Here’s how it works:

1. 1. The Lure—A fake profile on Tinder entices the victim. The conversation is warm, flirtatious, and carefully directed toward meeting in person.

   2. The Setup—The scammer selects the venue, often a complicit nightclub known for inflated pricing and aggressive staff.

   3. The Trap—Once there, the victim is encouraged to order drinks—sometimes expensive champagne or bottles—without knowing the prices.

   4. The Exit—The scammer vanishes, leaving the victim alone when the inflated bill arrives.

   5. The pressure occurs when bouncers or management insist on immediate payment from the victim. In some cases, passports are held, threats of police are made, or credit cards are swiped for thousands of dollars.

This scheme has been reported by Action Fraud UK, The Star, and Wymoo. 

These operations are sophisticated and frequently involve collusion between club staff, the scammer, and even bouncers.

When I visited Thailand, I encountered similar nightlife scams. 

Men were targeted in Bangkok and Phuket, promised a romantic evening that ended in debt or worse. In some cases, tourists were drugged and robbed. 

The Dubai version is more subtle but just as dangerous.  

But it’s not only money that’s at risk.

A Trojan Horse for Industrial Espionage

In a global hub like Dubai, many victims of these Tinder scams are not just tourists—they are business travellers, consultants, and executives. Under the guise of flirtation and alcohol, some scammers aim to extract:

• • Confidential information shared over drinks.

  • Scammers can gain access to unattended mobile phones, laptops, or business documents.

  • Social engineering data—passwords, habits, or login details.

If a victim is intoxicated, distracted, or manipulated into handing over their phone, scammers may clone devices, steal intellectual property, or even install spyware.
From my background in military and corporate intelligence, I’ve seen this before. These aren’t just petty criminals—some of these networks operate with the precision of espionage cells.
It only takes one drink to change your life. And not for the better.

Why It Works:

• • Loneliness and desire are the driving forces behind it. Emotional vulnerability is a powerful lever.

  • Trust in luxury. People assume expensive clubs are legitimate.

  • Embarrassment. Victims rarely report out of shame.

  • Distraction as a weapon. While attention is on romance or status, data is quietly extracted.

How to Protect Yourself:

• • • Don’t let your date pick the venue without verifying its reputation.

    • Avoid handing over your card, ID, or phone unless absolutely necessary.

    • Please take a moment to research the bar or club in advance. Look up reviews and scam reports.

    • Keep sensitive business materials locked or encrypted. Never leave devices unattended in such settings.

    • If something feels off, leave. Your instincts are your best defense.

Conclusion: Scams Thrive Where Dreams Live

Dubai remains one of the world’s most attractive cities. 

And rightly so. It offers safety, infrastructure, and opportunity. But where light shines brightest, shadows are deepest. The allure of a dream job or a captivating romance frequently ensnares the unsuspecting.

From my work in counterintelligence and private investigations, I know this: no one is immune. The educated. The wealthy. You are the seasoned traveller. 

What matters is how alert you are when the moment of decision arrives.

Let this article be your armour. Not to scare you, but to prepare you.

Life serves as a battleground, and fraudulent schemes, akin to projectiles, do not seek consent before launching their attack.

Stay smart. Stay sceptical. And as always, verify before you trust.

Introduction: The Theatre of Belief

In the world of deception, the most dangerous lies are the ones we choose to believe.

Over the course of my investigative career—rooted in military and diplomatic intelligence, corporate espionage, and hundreds of face-to-face interviews with victims—I’ve studied how carefully constructed illusions topple empires, destroy communities, and reduce once-powerful individuals to silence. 

Some criminals wear hoodies. Others wear suits. But none succeed without first stealing trust.

Recently, I’ve uncovered, on my podcast, “Life The Battlefield,” the modus operandi of some of the most notorious ”crypto” financial frauds: Ruja Ignatova’s OneCoin, a $4.5 billion pyramid cloaked in crypto mystique; Jay Mazini, who fused religion and Instagram fame to steal Bitcoin; Sam Bankman-Fried’s FTX, an empire built on illusion and media complicity; and the infamous Crypto Bonnie and Clyde, whose digital charm masked real-world theft.

But “OmegaPro”” stands apart.

This wasn’t just another scam. It was a global psychological operation, a $650 million fraud meticulously designed to extract not just money—but identity, community, and faith itself. 

It operated in 175 countries, affected over 2 million people, and used state-of-the-art manipulation tactics to build what looked like a dream—but was a death trap.

This article is not about who did it. It’s about how. Unless we understand the architecture of deception, we will remain vulnerable to its next iteration.

The Setup: A Digital Dream Built on Unstable Foundations

Launched in 2019, “OmegaPro” presented itself as a forex and cryptocurrency trading platform powered by AI, backed by elite traders, and founded by men of supposed integrity—Michael Shannon Sims, Juan Carlos Reynoso, Andreas Szakacs, and Robert Velghe.

Their offer was tantalizing invest in cryptocurrency, earn passive income, and receive up to 300% returns in just 16 months.

The scheme targeted emerging markets where trust in traditional banking was already low and economic opportunity was scarce—Latin America, Africa, South Asia, and parts of Eastern Europe. It promised access to a global financial movement previously reserved for the elite.

But behind the polished dashboards and pseudo-sophisticated jargon, there was no AI. There were no audited records available. There was no actual trading taking place.

There is only an expertly engineered illusion of wealth.

Modus Operandi: The Engineered Illusion

“OmegaPro” employs social engineering under the guise of motivation.

“OmegaPro”’s promoters didn’t just recruit investors—they indoctrinated them.

New members were ushered into Telegram groups and webinars filled with testimonials, rank promotions, and motivational speeches. 

Any question about withdrawals or trading transparency was met with resistance—or outright expulsion from the group. Scepticism was treated not as intelligence, but as disloyalty.

As documented in OneSafe’s forensic analysis, the outcome was cognitive isolation. Victims were gradually separated from objective reality and immersed into a culture of belief, ambition, and pressure.

The concept of luxury signalling and the illusion of global legitimacy is crucial to understanding “OmegaPro”’s deception strategy.

The pivotal moment in “OmegaPro”’s deception strategy occurred when they projected their logo onto the world’s tallest building, the Burj Khalifa. This act was shared widely on social media. 

The projection was a paid promotional display, engineered solely for appearances. But for victims watching from Nigeria, Colombia, or Vietnam, it suggested something bigger: credibility, authority, and power.

It was a masterclass in visual manipulation. The projection appeared in promotional videos, recruitment pitches, and summit presentations. It said, “We’ve arrived”—even as the foundation was crumbling.

Pyramid mechanics are hidden behind ranks

“OmegaPro” operated on a multi-level marketing model. But unlike traditional MLMs that offer real products, “OmegaPro”’s only product was recruitment itself.

Titles such as “Blue Diamond” and “Crown Ambassador” were awarded to those who brought in the newest investors. The more deposits you attracted, the higher your rank—and the more you earned in bonuses, commissions, and crypto payouts.

This structure created a viral growth engine, particularly in close-knit communities. Churches, families, and friend groups became recruitment hubs. The goal was no longer to earn from your investment but to earn by convincing others to invest.

It wasn’t finance. It was financial cannibalism.

Crypto is the perfect cloaking device

All “OmegaPro” deposits were made in Bitcoin or USDT, offering several strategic advantages:

• Transactions were difficult to trace.

• There was no regulatory oversight.

• Victims couldn’t initiate chargebacks or recover lost funds.

As confirmed by the DOJ indictment, there was no real trading. The deposited crypto went straight into wallets controlled by the founders and promoters. There were no brokers. No markets. Blockchain addresses emerged as digital voids.

The Final Pivot: Broker Group and Digital Vanishing Act

When investors began complaining in late 2022 about withdrawal delays, “OmegaPro” executed its final trick. They announced a transition to a new platform—Broker Group—which would supposedly offer improved security and better investment tools.

In actuality, Broker Group merely served as a façade, a temporary measure to postpone the impending collapse. Victims were told their funds were “safe and transferring,” but no money ever moved. Access was blocked. Accounts frozen. Communication vanished.

And so did “OmegaPro”.

The Collapse: Justice Arrives Too Late

In July 2025, the U.S. Department of Justice indicted Michael Shannon Sims and Juan Carlos Reynoso on charges of wire fraud and money laundering. Each charge carries a maximum sentence of 20 years. Meanwhile, Szakacs and Velghe were arrested in Istanbul under related charges.

The DOJ’s findings were clear: “OmegaPro” was “a fraud from the beginning.” “OmegaPro” did not engage in any legitimate trading activities. There were no safeguards for the clients. No transparency. The system was characterized by deceit, deception, and manipulation.

However, the indictments were received too late for millions of people.

The Human Toll: The Unseen Damage

Behind the $650 million in stolen funds are stories far more painful.

A Ghanaian woman borrowed money from her community savings circle. A pastor in Nigeria enrolled his entire congregation. A Filipino couple sold ancestral land to “upgrade” their rank. When “OmegaPro” collapsed, they were not just financially ruined—they were socially exiled, ashamed, and silenced.

As I’ve seen in war zones and boardrooms alike, the deepest wounds come from betrayal—especially when it’s dressed as opportunity.

False Comfort: “But I Got Paid”

Some early investors did receive payouts. 

That’s how Ponzi schemes grow—by using the money of later victims to reward early adopters. 

These payouts became testimonials, used to silence doubt and accelerate recruitment.

But what they received were not profits. They were tools of manipulation, carefully distributed to create momentum and kill suspicion.

The machine always breaks when new money stops coming in. And when it does, those who once praised the platform become its final casualties.

Reflection: This Was Not a Mistake. It Was a Blueprint.

“OmegaPro” was not a failed business. It was a designed deception, built layer by layer by people who understood psychology, marketing, and human vulnerability.

The issue was not greed. This was warfare.

And like any modern war, it used codes instead of bullets. It relied on faith rather than using force. It didn’t break into accounts—it invited people to hand over everything willingly.

Conclusion: The Next Scam Is Already in Motion

“OmegaPro” is gone. But the playbook it created is not.

Unless global regulators, crypto platforms, and educational institutions respond with unified action, the next “OmegaPro” is inevitable. Its name will be different. Its platform is cleaner. Its tactics are more refined. 

But it will follow the same architecture of trust theft.

We must prepare—not just legally, but mentally.

The battlefield extends beyond digital boundaries. It’s psychological. And it’s everywhere.

To the victims: You were not stupid. You were targeted. And by sharing your story, you become the first defence against the next lie.

Introduction: The Illusion of Success, the Reality of Theft

While ordinary people rise early, punch clocks, stretch their pay checks, and teach their children to value hard work, a select few sip champagne at rooftop galas, fund movies with stolen public money, and decorate their deception with glossy words like “integrity” and “philanthropy.”

This is not fiction. This is the real world. This is a world in which individuals such as Jho Low and his associates not only pilfer billions, but also deprive people of their dignity, trust, and prospects.

The 1MDB scandal is not just the story of a financial fraud. It is a cold mirror held up to modern society, reflecting how a global elite—bankers, politicians, and celebrities—colluded, knowingly or not, in laundering one of the greatest heists of the 21st century. 

It is a masterclass in deception, a playbook in social engineering, and a tragedy measured not only in dollars but in broken public faith.

As someone who grew up under communism and later worked as an intelligence operative and interrogator, I’ve seen this pattern repeat again and again. 

Systems built on the backs of the working class are hijacked by those who know how to manipulate power, language, and illusion. 

These men don’t rob banks with masks—they sign contracts in tailored suits and smile for the camera while quietly emptying national treasuries.

They speak of “vision,” “nation-building,” and “growth.” However, they are secretly orchestrating theft. 

And what makes this scandal even more dangerous is the way it cloaked itself in success—bond deals, luxury real estate, global investments, red-carpet events, and Oscar-winning films. It used the very symbols of trust and aspiration to commit betrayal on an international scale.

In this article, we will examine the full anatomy of the 1MDB scandal: from its origins in Malaysia to its manipulation by Goldman Sachs, from the charming fugitive Jho Low to the Hollywood icons unknowingly used as shields. 

We will track the money, uncover the strategies, and pose the challenging question: how many more scams similar to this one remain concealed behind a façade?

• 2009: Najib Razak, Malaysia’s newly elected Prime Minister, launches the 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB), a sovereign wealth fund aimed at driving economic growth. Jho Low, a young financier, is already exerting significant influence behind the scenes.

• 2012–2013: Goldman Sachs, through bankers Tim Leissner and Roger Ng, arranges three bond offerings, raising $6.5 billion for 1MDB. The stated objective is to fund national development. In reality, the money begins to disappear into shell companies and private accounts.

• 2013–2015: Jho Low throws lavish parties in Cannes and Las Vegas. Millions are spent on real estate, art, champagne, and celebrity access. Leonardo DiCaprio receives donations for his foundation. The Wolf of Wall Street is financed. The lifestyle is opulent—and paid for by Malaysian taxpayers

• 2015–2016: Whistleblowers and journalists, including The Wall Street Journal, uncover major discrepancies. $681 million is found in Najib’s personal bank account. Political cover-ups begin. Investigators are fired. Public outrage erupts in Malaysia.

• 2016–2018: The U.S. Department of Justice launches its largest ever kleptocracy investigation. Billions in assets are seized globally. Goldman Sachs faces scrutiny. Leissner pleads guilty. Roger Ng is extradited. Jho Low disappears—rumored to be in China.

• 2022–2025: Najib Razak is convicted and sentenced to 12 years in prison. Roger Ng receives 10 years. In May 2025, Tim Leissner is sentenced to two years for his role—despite confessing to bribery and document forgery. Jho Low remains a fugitive.

Jho Low: The Phantom Mastermind

Most people only knew Jho Low as a mysterious figure. He wasn’t listed as a 1MDB official. He didn’t work at Goldman Sachs. He never gave press conferences. And yet—nothing in the 1MDB scandal happened without him.

From its inception in 2009, Jho Low was the true architect of 1MDB. He sold the dream of global investment and nation-building to Malaysian leaders, particularly to Prime Minister Najib Razak and his stepson Riza Aziz. But beneath the glittering dream was a sinister strategy.

How He Engineered the Scam

• Strategic Access: Low used his elite connections—including Gulf royals and Malaysian political families—to position himself as a trusted adviser, without ever taking formal accountability.

• Creating Fake Companies: He personally set up shell companies such as Good Star Ltd., Tanore Finance, and the fake Aabar Investments PJS Ltd.—designed to closely mimic real firms and deceive banking compliance departments.

• Bond Manipulation: Low collaborated directly with Tim Leissner and Roger Ng to raise $6.5 billion through Goldman Sachs bond deals, offering abnormal fees in exchange for discretion and speed.

• Laundering Through Luxury: The stolen funds were rapidly converted into real estate, yachts, diamonds, and art, creating both a luxurious lifestyle and a financial firewall. These purchases helped mask the illicit origins of the money.

• Bribes and Influence: Low orchestrated payments to officials in Malaysia and Abu Dhabi to facilitate the fraud. He understood that corruption wasn’t a side effect—it was a requirement.

Jho Low was not reacting to a flawed system—he designed the system, executed the operation, and manipulated the world to applaud him for it.
“This wasn’t just money laundering. It was reputation laundering—at a scale the world had never seen.” — U.S. DOJ Investigator, 2020

The Celebrity Bait: Hollywood, Fame & The Illusion of Honor

Jho Low’s greatest innovation was not financial—it was psychological. He knew that money alone doesn’t buy trust, but proximity to fame does.

• He donated millions to Leonardo DiCaprio’s environmental foundation.

• He financed Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street through Red Granite Pictures.

• He gifted DiCaprio a Picasso, a Basquiat, and Marlon Brando’s Oscar—all later seized by U.S. authorities. 

Other celebrities in his orbit included

• Miranda Kerr was gifted $8 million in diamonds.

• Paris Hilton, regularly flown to private events.

• Alicia Keys, Jamie Foxx, and other artists were paid to perform at private galas.

These relationships weren’t incidental. They were part of the illusion. If Jho Low could stand next to Leo on a red carpet or sit with Hollywood royalty at Cannes, then who would dare call him a thief?

Leonardo DiCaprio, to his credit, fully cooperated with authorities and returned all gifts. He made it clear he was unaware the money came from stolen funds.

But this is the point—Low was buying social camouflage. His friendships with Hollywood elites gave him the appearance of legitimacy and insulated him from scrutiny until it was too late.

Anatomy of Deception: How the Scam Worked

1. Goldman Sachs and the Bond Heist

Goldman Sachs charged an extraordinary $600 million to arrange three bond deals. These bonds raised $6.5 billion for 1MDB, but within weeks, large sums were redirected to offshore accounts. Internal Goldman emails raised red flags, but no action was taken.

Tim Leissner admitted to faking documents, bribing officials, and creating false audit trails. Roger Ng facilitated the flow of funds to shell companies. The bank eventually paid over $6.8 billion in penalties.

2. The Shell Company Carousel

The stolen funds were funneled through a network of fraudulent entities:

• Good Star Ltd (Seychelles)

• Aabar Investments PJS Ltd (fake Abu Dhabi entity)

• Tanore Finance Corporation

These were designed to mirror legitimate institutions. By the time the money reached real estate agents in New York or filmmakers in Hollywood, it was impossible to trace its original source.

3. Political Protection

Najib Razak wielded absolute power. He removed Malaysia’s attorney general, disbanded investigating bodies, and silenced critics. 

The Prime Minister’s Office became both the architect and protector of the scam. 1MDB wasn’t a blunder—it was a weaponized financial machine used to consolidate power.

The Cost: Malaysia’s Bleeding Wounds

While Jho Low commissioned Monet paintings, ordinary Malaysians suffered:

• National debt soared to over RM 50 billion.

• The Ringgit fell to historic lows.

• Public services weakened, with schools and hospitals left underfunded. 

The pain wasn’t just financial—it was emotional. Trust in government evaporated. The idea of “nation-building” became a joke. And even today, many Malaysians wonder: where else has the money gone?

Conclusion

As someone who has interviewed war criminals, investigated corporate espionage, and interrogated professional liars, I can tell you this: the most dangerous frauds don’t scream—they whisper.

1MDB is a blueprint. A masterclass. It shows how systemic corruption feeds off silence, spectacle, and status.

It is a reminder that we must not be hypnotized by titles or tuxedos. Not all fame equates to virtue. Success that lacks scrutiny is often a sign of decay.

So we must ask, in every nation, in every institution:

• Who handles our money?

• Who audits their actions?

• And what stories are being told to hide the theft?