Feodor Shkrudnev

In the previous article, we saw how the transition from the Temple to Power takes place. Now it is necessary to take the next step. Because the transfer of the center by itself does not complete the construction. It is only preparation. Real control begins where authority gains control not over behavior, rather over what a person CONSIDERS TO BE TRUE. It is precisely here that the decisive turning point occurs.

As long as truth exists as something external to authority, a person retains the ability to compare, to doubt, and to choose. He can make mistakes. He can be mistaken. Yet he remains a participant in the process. However, at the moment when truth begins to emanate from authority itself, the situation changes fundamentally. A person no longer searches. He accepts. He no longer verifies, rather instead measures everything against the source. And if the source is recognized, the question is closed.

People have grown accustomed to believing that submission arises wherever there is force, pressure, coercion, or fear. However, this is only the external side of the process. In reality, submission arises earlier — at the moment when a person accepts something as truth. Force does not shape behavior directly. It merely reinforces what has already been accepted internally. And if this is so, then the main question emerges: who and how forms that very truth to which a person ultimately begins to submit?

People have grown accustomed to believing that they perceive reality directly. That they see the world as it truly is and draw conclusions from that. However, this sensation is deceptive. We are dealing not with reality itself, rather with its interpretation — the version that our own instrument of thought is CAPABLE OF PERCEIVING. And here the key question emerges: if the boundaries of perception are determined by the very structure of thinking itself, then the differences between people are defined not so much by the amount of knowledge they possess, rather by the way their very mode of perception is constructed. The same fact may be accepted, rejected, or not even noticed at all — not because it is complex, rather because it falls outside the permissible range of perception.

In the previous article, we came to the understanding that religion cannot be viewed merely as a system of beliefs or a set of dogmas. We saw that behind the external forms — texts, rituals, conflicts, and divisions — stands a deeper process. A process of forming controlled perception, within which a person does not simply believe, rather learns to perceive reality in a particular way. At that point, an important observation was established: the differences between groups arise not so much from the content of the texts, rather BECAUSE OF DIFFERENCES in the mode of thinking itself. And it is precisely this difference that becomes decisive.

In the previous article, we approached the boundary beyond which familiar explanations stop working. We saw that the issue is not what a person believes in — religion, science, or even themselves, rather how the very capacity to believe, to doubt, and to understand is formed. At that point, a key question was posed: who sets the boundaries of thinking, and how? Now we take the next step, not toward new answers, rather toward the CONSTRUCTION ITSELF within which those answers arise, because belief is not merely an internal state of a person — it is an architecture, a system built in such a way as to shape perception, keep it within certain limits, and direct behavior.

One may believe it or not, but more and more people in recent times are beginning to intuitively sense that the development of earthly civilization is not a completely chaotic process. There arises a sense of the presence of a certain level that can be conditionally described as a “Universal Mind” — not in a religious sense, rather in an EXTREMELY GENERALIZED, systemic sense. A level within which what is happening acquires not a random, rather a directed character. How one relates to this is not a matter of belief, rather of the mind’s readiness to step beyond the familiar. For some, this will seem like a “mad” assumption. For others, it is a natural step in the attempt to understand the whole. And in this difference, what was discussed earlier already manifests itself: a change in the very structure of perception, a transition to other levels of comprehension.

There are various worldviews through which a person tries to comprehend their existence. Conventionally, they can be divided into religious and atheistic. Within each, there are many directions, schools, and interpretations. However, if we set aside the external diversity, their starting point turns out to be surprisingly similar. In both cases, the foundation is not knowledge, rather an assumption. Not proof, rather Faith.

In the previous articles of this series, we have already come close to understanding one important thing: modern civilization is experiencing not just a crisis, rather a crisis of direction. This is not a crisis of resources, not a crisis of technology, and not even a crisis of knowledge in its applied sense. It is a crisis on a deeper level — the level at which it is determined where humanity is moving and for what purpose it moves at all. At first glance, it may seem that humanity has NEVER POSSESSED such capabilities as it does today. We can split the atom, model extremely complex processes, create artificial intelligence, and manage global systems. Yet despite all this power, the main question remains open: IN WHAT DIRECTION is this power directed?

In the previous articles of this series, we attempted to look at modern civilization somewhat from the outside — as if observing the movement of a massive train carrying billions of people. All of them are moving in the same direction. All are part of a single historical process. Yet they perceive what is happening in completely different ways. Some look ahead, trying to understand where this train is going. Others are occupied with their own affairs in the passenger cars. Still others see only isolated fragments of what is happening. And some are not even aware of the existence of the tracks at all. Yet there is one question that concerns every single passenger on this train without exception. It is the question of death.

Paradigms do not collapse all at once: first, cracks appear in them, and only then, through those cracks, a new picture of the world becomes visible; in the previous article, we discussed how a person begins to move beyond the habitual picture of the world, how most people live within certain ideas about reality that seem natural and the only possible ones, and we used the image of a train to show how people’s outlook differs and how its breadth determines the ability to see the direction of civilization’s movement; however, stepping out of the “tank” is only the FIRST STEP.