“Fraud is an art, employing logic, facts, understanding victims and witnesses, and above all—imagination.”
(adapted from Mario Bekes, Investigative Scenarios)

Introduction – The Other Side of Imagination

Investigations and interrogations have occupied almost my entire working career. 

The more I studied trends in criminal activity—whether blue-collar street crimes or sophisticated white-collar frauds—one thing always amazed me: how often the people I investigated relied on their imagination to commit unlawful acts.

They did not simply steal, cheat, or deceive mechanically. They created stories. They imagined identities, motives, and opportunities. And increasingly, they were taught by media—television dramas, online forums, social media, even podcasts—how to avoid being caught.

 The irony is striking while criminals borrow imagination from the media to perfect their schemes, they forget that investigators will use an equally strong imagination to uncover who committed the act and why.

Just as I learned early in my career that imagination is essential to reconstruct the truth, I also realized that creativity is the criminal’s most powerful weapon in building deception.

Scenarios: The Fraudster’s Novels

If an investigator writes multiple “novels” in search of truth, the fraudster writes multiple “novels” in search of deception. The difference lies in intention.

Criminals create their own fraud scenarios that mirror investigative ones:

• General scenarios—weave stories that cover every angle of doubt (“I am a soldier overseas, I am investing your money safely, I am your future partner”).

• Special scenarios—target individual weaknesses in the victim: loneliness, greed, or fear.

• Timelines—rewrite the past (“I lost my wife in a car accident”) and project a false future (“we will build a life together once I return”).

• Non-confronting vs. Confronting scenarios—offer documents, receipts, or evidence when needed, but withdraw when suspicion arises.

• Accusative vs. defensive scenarios—shift blame onto others, preempt accusations, or play the victim to maintain trust.

What is new in the 21st century is the level of imagination available through social media. In the past, a fraudster could only deceive face-to-face or through letters and phone calls. 

Today, fraudsters have access to billions of digital “stages” where they can perform their scenarios.

On Instagram, con artists showcase fake lifestyles—borrowed cars, rented mansions, and staged photos that signal wealth and success. 

On LinkedIn, corporate imposters create entire fraudulent CVs, using stock photos and fabricated job titles to lure investors or secure trust. 

On Facebook, fake charities and fundraisers prey on sympathy during disasters. 

On Tinder and dating apps, criminals build elaborate emotional scenarios, exploiting loneliness and hope to draw victims into financial or personal ruin.

And perhaps the most dangerous of all are the fake coaches and self-proclaimed gurus. They promise transformation—wealth, relationships, purpose, freedom—but deliver nothing except empty slogans and drained bank accounts. 

These individuals weaponize imagination by selling a dream they never lived. They present fabricated success stories, Photoshop their achievements, and rent luxury backdrops to appear credible. 

Just like a novelist creates characters, they create personas designed to inspire trust and admiration, all while hiding behind a paywall of “courses” and “exclusive memberships.”

These digital narratives—from romance scams to guru scams—are imaginative in their construction and relentless in their adaptation. 

A fraudster might maintain several scenarios at once: the wealthy investor on LinkedIn, the grieving widower on Tinder, the luxury influencer on Instagram, and the life coach on Facebook—all designed to capture different audiences with different vulnerabilities.

Social media has, in effect, given criminals and fake gurus a publishing house for deception, where every platform is a new book cover and every algorithm a tool to reach readers. 

Imagination here is no longer just an individual’s trick; it is amplified by technology, shared templates, and even online communities of scammers who exchange “scripts” the way novelists exchange drafts.

The outcome is the fraudster’s novel-writing workshop: the endless crafting of believable scenarios, rehearsed, tested, and adapted until victims willingly step inside the story.

Case Studies: Imagination in Crime

History is filled with examples of criminals who relied less on weapons and more on imagination.

• Charles Ponzi (1920s): Imagined a financial scheme built on international postal coupons. The idea was ludicrous in scale, yet so imaginative that thousands believed it.

• Frank Abagnale Jr. (Catch Me If You Can): Imagined himself into roles—pilot, doctor, lawyer—without formal training. His imagination created an aura of authority that institutions accepted as fact.

• Bernie Madoff: Imagined a flawless world of investment returns, fabricating statements that reassured investors for decades.

• The Tinder Swindler (Simon Leviev): Imagined luxury, danger, and romance—using photos of private jets, fake emergencies, and emotional pleas to extract millions.

Each case shows the same truth: crime is rarely just opportunity. It is the creative construction of a reality that others are persuaded to live in.

The Psychology of Criminal Imagination

Criminology has long recognized that crime is not only technical but also imaginative.

• Edwin Sutherland’s theory of differential association explains that criminals learn not only techniques but also the creative adaptations required to deceive.

• Behavioral psychologists Kahneman and Tversky remind us that victims are vulnerable to imaginative narratives because of cognitive biases—hope, fear, and trust cloud rational judgment.

• Fraud researchers point out that the most successful scams often exploit imagination symmetrically: the criminal imagines the lie, and the victim imagines it as truth.

Imagination here is weaponized. It is not used to find answers but to create questions, doubts, and illusions that keep victims compliant.

The Corporate Battlefield

Fraudsters do not limit themselves to individuals. Corporations are prime targets for imaginative deception. Fake invoices, phishing emails, or fabricated investment opportunities are modern fraud scenarios.

Just as investigators apply the Golden Questions of Criminalistics, so too do criminals. They ask:

• Which decision-maker is most likely to approve this invoice without conducting a thorough review?

• What system can be bypassed?

• When is the best time to strike—at the end of the quarter, during holidays, or in moments of stress?

• Why would they believe this story?

By thinking imaginatively, fraudsters exploit not only technical weaknesses but also human blind spots inside organizations.

The Battle of Minds

The crucial insight is this: criminals and investigators use the same weapon—imagination—but for opposite purposes.

• Investigators imagine being uncovered.

• Criminals imagine hiding.

• Investigators imagine possibilities for reaching the truth.

• Criminals imagine illusions to obscure truth.

I often assert that the battleground of investigation extends beyond the confines of the lab, interrogation room, or courtroom. It is fought in the imagination—the turning of scenarios, verto, vertere, verti, versum. The winner is the one whose imagination proves stronger, sharper, and closer to reality.

Conclusion: Two Sides of the Same Coin

Investigations and fraud share the same intellectual soil: imagination. The difference lies in intent. One side uses it to protect, the other to exploit.

For investigators, the challenge is not only to build their own scenarios but also to anticipate those being crafted by the criminal. 

Ultimately, every crime starts as a narrative in someone’s mind. And every solved case ends in the dismantling of that story.

The battlefield, therefore, is not just physical. It is mental, psychological, and deeply imaginative.

 The investigator who understands this will not just chase evidence—they will stay one step ahead of the fraudster’s canvas.

Introduction—The World Evolves; HUMINT Hardly Does

Last year I visited Berlin and STASI HQ to study their methods. STASI was one of the most efficient and successful counterintelligence agencies in the world. 

That being said, I was exposed from an early age to the communist type of intelligence agencies, but what I wasn’t expecting was that the corporate world and many countries know nothing about the modus operandi of human intelligence and the super-successful, efficient method of a female intelligence operative hacking your brain, stealing your life and secrets, and later applying the MICE methodology to convert you.

In today’s world, algorithms mediate intimacy and provide direct access to information. 

Yet despite the dazzling veneer of platforms and encryption, the backbone of human intelligence (HUMINT) remains stubbornly constant: cultivate trust, read human weakness, choreograph relationships, and convert proximity into access. 

What has changed is the cost and the tempo.

• In Australia, espionage cost at least $12.5 billion in 2023–24, which includes direct damage from cyber-attacks, insider threats, and intellectual property theft, as well as efforts to reduce these risks; it’s estimated that “tens of billions” more in losses were avoided, and just one week of major cyber sabotage could lead to nearly $6 billion in costs, according to a 2025 report by the ASIO. AIC

• In the United States, a continuously updated CSIS survey lists 224 publicly reported Chinese espionage incidents since 2000, with 69% reported after Xi Jinping took office, and long-term economic losses “in the billions” alongside severe national-security damage (e.g., weapons-related data). HUMINT remains a collection staple next to cyber: recruitment via “sex or money” persists alongside unconventional access tactics. CSIS

I write this article from lived experience: educated and trained in military and diplomatic security intelligence before decades in investigations and interrogations, I learned that the most decisive weapon is not a gadget but a human who understands fear, aspiration, and attention. 

In today’s social-media theatre, female operatives—state-tasked or criminally motivated—often gain asymmetric advantages because the platforms reward precisely the signals that ease elicitation: warmth, lifestyle, availability, and parasocial intimacy. 

The result is classical tradecraft executed at digital speed.

Thesis

Female HUMINT operations today are a continuity of historic methods—seduction, secrecy, and social positioning—scaled by feeds. The case studies below show the “honey trap” reframed into a broader ecosystem of influence: part espionage, part propaganda, and part fraud—all powered by social platforms.

The Concept of Historical Continuity Explains Why Underestimation Continues to be Effective

From Mata Hari to the SOE’s Virginia Hall and Nancy Wake, women have long exploited a recurring cognitive bias: institutional underestimation lowers scrutiny and invites proximity. A modern example is Anna Chapman, who was arrested in 2010 as part of the Russian Illegals Program; beyond the sensationalized media coverage, the operational lesson remains unchanged—credible persona, patience, proximity. The medium changes; the playbook doesn’t. Wikipedia

Counterpoint

“But Chapman is Cold War nostalgia.” This statement is both accurate and irrelevant. As the CSIS data show, traditional recruitment and influence still sit beside cyber, not behind it. The continuity is the story.

Case Studies—Female Spies—”The Same Playbook, Platform Accelerated”

1. Pakistan’s ISI and The Influencer Pipeline: Grooming Creators for Collection and Narrative
   

   Indian authorities allege a network designed to invite, entice, and co-opt social media creators—offering visas and hospitality via Pakistan High Commission events—then escalating to money, intimacy, and tasking. In the Jyoti (Rani) Malhotra case, open sources detail ~377,000 YouTube subscribers, multiple Pakistan trips, alleged contact with an expelled High Commission official, and encrypted-app grooming with disguised contact names; investigators frame this as propaganda and collection. India Today

   Parallel reporting lays out the method: official invites → visas → staged access → enticements (including classic honey-trap elements) → gradual coercion and tasking; large-follower creators (e.g., Jasbir Singh, ~1.1 million) are prized for reach, cover, and mobility. India Express

   Operational takeaway: social capital (followers, perceived authenticity) has become an intelligence asset. The cover is not a job—it’s a lifestyle brand.

2. Russian Vector: Influence Networks Masked as Civic Personas
   

   The Nomma Zarubina case in the U.S. alleges recruitment by the FSB (codename “Alyssa”), cultivation of networks among journalists and experts, and false statements to the FBI regarding those ties. This is not a case of snatching up secrets; rather, it is a strategy of social positioning for influence, akin to HUMINT, but disguised as public expertise. Russia 

   Operational takeaway: the persona is the product. Influence is an objective in itself, not merely a conduit for stolen files.

3. China’s European Vector: Aid, Access, and Money
   

   In Germany, authorities have moved from the 2024 arrest of Jian Guo (aide to AfD figure Maximilian Krah) on suspicion of spying for China to lifting Krah’s parliamentary immunity in September 2025 and conducting searches tied to alleged Chinese payments. The sequence shows a familiar tactic: recruit the person one ring from power, blend influence, access, and money, and then allow the person to launder intent. 

   Operational takeaway: proximity beats penetration. The most effective agent may be the assistant—not the intruder at the safe. The Guardian</P

Modus Operandi—social media & social engineering (the modern honey-trap)

1. The process involves building a persona and ensuring its plausibility. The process involves creating a multi-platform identity that has a coherent backstory, mutuals, and a consistent content cadence. Visuals generate parasocial trust; captions are pre-prime targets to confide. The Indian creator cases illustrate how visibility itself authenticates access.

2. OSINT-driven reconnaissance. Targets are mapped via follows, likes, conference photos, and family posts—inferring travel patterns, procurement cycles, and stressors. German investigations around Krah/Guo underscore that network position matters more than title.

3. Contact & grooming. Outreach begins with professional pretexts (“collab,” “press profile”) or personal ones (shared heritage/mutual friends). Encrypted apps and disappearing messages accelerate intimacy and lower inhibitions—explicit in the Malhotra reporting.

4. Elicitation & tasking. Requests escalate from “vibe checks” to operational asks: photos, layouts, and procedures; or reputational asks: on-camera narratives to seed propaganda. Indian officials describe a systematic ISI shift: use creators for espionage-cum-propaganda, not just collection.

5. Deniability & churn. When heat rises, accounts vanish; handlers become “just travel agents”; relationships are “personal.” Rapid evidence capture is crucial before profiles disappear.

Argument and counterargument

Argument. Female-fronted HUMINT thrives online because platforms are tuned to warmth, trust, and ambient intimacy—traits that bypass technical controls and organizational ego. Where boards imagine the threat as “hackers,” the real breach often walks in through the heart: flattery, shared outrage, “opportunities,” and accelerated closeness.

Counterargument: “This is just cybercrime, not espionage.”

Some activity is primarily criminal. But the Indian crackdown documents a hybrid model—collection plus narrative shaping—which is quintessential intelligence work. Likewise, CSIS reminds us that alongside vast cyber activity, China continues to use traditional recruitment, including sex- or money-based inducements—i.e., HUMINT. A purely “cybercrime” lens misses state-aligned influence goals.

Defensive Doctrine—A Checklist (HUMINT before tools)

Drawing on years in interrogations and corporate investigations, here is a short, operational playbook you can train into muscle memory:

1. Separate identities. It’s crucial to maintain a clear separation between personal and professional personas, avoid using real-time travel geotags, and refrain from posting org charts, access badges, or floor plans.

2. Two-channel verification. Any “recruiter/journalist/collab” must be verified via a second, known-good channel and corporate-domain video before discussing access or documents.

3. DM discipline. There should be no screenshots, layouts, or “quick photos” of restricted spaces in DMs, nor should there be any unsanctioned screen shares.

4. Intimacy triggers. Train staff to spot accelerated intimacy (love-bombing, confessional voice notes, flattery, and grievance mirroring). These are elicitation setups.

5. Ego and grievance management. Adversaries hunt for the discouraged and overlooked. Close those seams—your people’s hurt is the adversary’s opening.

6. Red-team the feed. Run exercises that start in public posts and move into DMs; measure who accepts invites, who overshares, and who resists.

7. Rapid containment. On suspected compromise: preserve devices, snapshot profiles, capture app metadata, and engage counsel/forensics early—before accounts vanish.

Conclusion—different theatre, same war

From a life shaped by war zones and intelligence work to decades of investigations, one lesson endures: the human element never retires. 

Female operatives, often underestimated, exploit exactly what our culture now monetizes—connection and attention. The method is old. The medium is new. And the stakes are measurable: billions in national losses and incalculable damage to trust. 

The frontline of defence remains human before technical habits, before tools, and disciplined before denial.

From my own years in military and diplomatic security – intelligence, I learned that the first breach isn’t digital—it’s human. 

A rushed confession, a flattered ego, a private message accepted at 1:13 a.m. 

That’s why this article emphasizes habits before tools: separate personas, verify across channels, and never reward accelerated intimacy with access.

Introduction—The Allure of Personal Branding

We live in an age where visibility equals credibility. For many, stepping into the world of social media branding is no longer a choice but a necessity. 

Entrepreneurs, coaches, and influencers build digital profiles to attract clients, command authority, and stand out in a crowded marketplace. 

The promise is seductive: if you can tell your story, showcase your expertise, and package your image with precision, the world will listen.

What motivates individuals to choose to brand themselves on social media?

The motivations are layered. Some seek recognition; others want influence; many pursue financial independence. 

The approach is straightforward: develop a polished profile, emphasize credentials, outline offerings, and present yourself as someone who “adds value.” 

Then comes the pricing—a reflection not only of the service offered but of the status attached to the brand. 

Look at Sadia Khan’s coaching programs. Her high prices are not due to her clinical accreditation but rather to her reputation as an exclusive and elite coach. In branding, perception creates price.

Maintaining that image requires constant effort. Influencers carefully curate content, manage collaborations, and monitor every post. 

They outsource promotion, hire publicists, and surround themselves with allies who amplify their message. In short, they manufacture visibility—because in this new economy, exposure is the product.

Yet, the higher the climb, the steeper the fall.

Why People Target Influencers

The moment someone achieves online success, they also attract resentment. The reasons why individuals attempt to “take down” influencers are complex:

• Jealousy: Envy over visibility, lifestyle, and perceived success.

• Anger: Disagreement with values, methods, or controversial statements.

• Hate: A deeper, often irrational hostility towards those who dare to stand in the spotlight.

• Digital Vigilantism: Many see themselves as online “truth-tellers” or self-appointed judges. They believe it is their duty to expose hypocrisy, fraud, or private behaviour that contradicts a public image. While some may genuinely feel they are serving justice, most act without accountability, blurring the line between whistleblowing and public shaming. For them, every post or video “exposing” someone is both a moral crusade and a chance to gain followers in the attention economy.

For those driven by malice, exposing a contradiction in an influencer’s life is a form of victory. 

In the intelligence world, this is no different from a counterintelligence operation: find the weak point, exploit it, and discredit the target (MICE methodology) 

Once one sows doubt, the audience becomes the target.

The Case of Sadia Khan—Preaching vs. Practicing

Sadia Khan positioned herself as a relationship psychologist and high-value dating coach. Her polished videos, posh accent, and strong online presence attracted thousands. 

She preached discipline, respect, and authenticity in relationships. But the recent scandal shattered that carefully crafted image.

Reports allege that she engaged in an affair with an engaged man—a direct contradiction of the very values she claimed to uphold. 

Worse still, she was recorded, and the evidence surfaced publicly.

Here is the harsh reality: what appears on the internet never disappears. 

Screenshots, recordings, and reposts spread rapidly, multiplying faster than any attempt to erase them. 

In Sadia’s case, she now resembles a fireman running from blaze to blaze, trying to extinguish a million metaphorical fires online. 

However, in the digital era, a single individual cannot extinguish all the flames of exposure once they ignite.

The result is the fragility of reputation in the digital age. 

You can invest years in cultivating an image, but within minutes, a single inconsistency can disseminate across TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, and blogs, turning a brand into ruins.

Preventing a Social Media Meltdown – Framework

Having survived war, worked in intelligence, and conducted high-level investigations, I understand that preparation, not denial, is the key to winning reputational battles. 

Professionals cannot simply hope their brand will survive scrutiny. They must prepare for the inevitable.

Here is the day-to-day risk assessment framework I use when advising leaders, entrepreneurs, and organizations.

1. Being in public will expose you to criticism
   Public opinion is relentless. Once you step into the spotlight, you are under permanent cross-examination. Make sure your background is verifiable and emphasize your strengths right away. If you mention a degree, please ensure the certificate is available. If you mention experience, please ensure it can be quantified. Avoid keeping secrets that could potentially lead to blackmail. Transparency is your best shield.

2. Engage Clients with Protection—Always Use NDAs
   When dealing with clients, protect yourself and them with a non-disclosure agreement. This is not paranoia; it is professionalism. NDAs set boundaries, establish confidentiality, and reduce the risk of private conversations being recorded or shared without consent. In the case of Sadia Khan, if clear protocols had been in place, the damaging recording might not have surfaced.

3. Control Your Communications
   Your digital footprint is your brand. It is advisable not to fully delegate it to third-party companies who might create, share, or even respond on your behalf. Authenticity is non-transferable. An intern or marketing agency replacing your voice puts you at risk of losing control. Worse, they might misrepresent you. Please ensure that every message, post, and response is verified.

4. Uphold ethics and values consistently
   No brand survives without ethics. Develop a strong, organization-wide culture of integrity and values. Consistently deliver high-quality services that exceed expectations. Audiences forgive mistakes, but they do not forgive hypocrisy. Sadia Khan’s downfall illustrates the point perfectly: her ethics collapsed under the weight of contradiction.

Identifying and Managing Reputational Risk

When scandal strikes, many organizations find themselves unprepared. Many organizations tend to react haphazardly, which often leads to unfavourable outcomes. Professionals must approach reputational risk as seriously as financial risk.

Understand Your Current Reputation

Conduct regular audits. Use surveys, focus groups, and media scans to gauge how employees, customers, and stakeholders perceive you. Never underestimate the power of public opinion.

Go Beyond Mission Statements

Values displayed on a wall hold minimal significance. Live them in your actions. If your private behavior contradicts your public preaching, it can lead to reputational collapse.

Conduct Ongoing Reputational Risk Assessments

Assess vulnerabilities continuously. For each potential risk, assign a score—and prioritize your action plans accordingly.

Integrate Pre- and Post-Mortem Analysis

As I explained in my article, “This Explains Why You Will Never Succeed in the Market,” professionals must plan like investigators.

• A pre-mortem analysis asks: what could go wrong, and how do we prevent it?

• A post-mortem analysis asks: if damage occurs, what lessons can we extract to ensure it never happens again? Applied to reputational risk, this approach forces organizations and individuals to see weaknesses before critics weaponize them.

Develop a Crisis Communication Plan

Silence is dangerous. In the first 48 hours of exposure, the world is waiting for your response. Prepare statements in advance, designate spokespeople, and always lead with transparency.

Educate Your Team

Your reputation is only as strong as your weakest employee. Train everyone in ethics, communication, and brand responsibility. A single careless remark can go viral and damage the entire organization.

Conclusion—Reputation as the Ultimate Battlefield

In today’s digital world, reputation is glass. It takes years to polish, seconds to shatter, and rarely can it be restored to its original shine.

Why do people brand themselves online? People brand themselves online for recognition, influence, and wealth. How do they build their profile? They achieve their goal through a combination of carefully curated offerings, high pricing, and relentless self-promotion. How do they maintain it?

 They achieve such success through meticulous management of their image. But why do others attack them? 

Others attack them out of jealousy, anger, and hate—seizing on any weakness to bring them down.

The case of Sadia Khan shows us the truth: when your private actions contradict your public preaching, the internet will never forget. You cannot delete exposure; you can only prepare for it. 

Once your name is compromised, you will spend years like a fireman trying to extinguish countless fires online—a battle most cannot win.

The difference between collapse and survival is preparation. Crisis management, ethical consistency, and proactive risk assessments are not luxuries—they are lifelines.

This is where I step in. I am Mario Bekes. I have lived on the battlefield, where credibility meant survival. And I can tell you this: in the digital battlefield of reputation, the rules are the same. 

Prepare, protect, and prevent—or risk destruction at the speed of a single viral post.

Introduction—What War Taught Me About Words

In intelligence work, I learned that information is both currency and weapon. The more precisely you control it, the safer you are and the stronger your position becomes. 

On patrols and in debrief rooms, I watched careers—and sometimes lives—hinge on a sentence said too soon or a detail given to the wrong ear. 

Years later, building the “Life The Battlefield” podcast, I see the same law operating online: many creators and “gurus” bleed power by talking too much, too often, to too many audiences at once. 

In the social era, oversharing doesn’t merely invite criticism; it collapses reputations. Research even has a name for the mechanism: context collapse—the moment all your audiences merge into one unforgiving crowd.

This article takes an investigative lens—no philosophy, just evidence. We’ll dissect how platforms reward volume, why oversharing converts into reputational risk, and what recent case studies reveal about the modern modus operandi of influence and its failure modes.

The Machine That Rewards Noise (and Punishes Judgment)

Platforms optimize for engagement. TikTok publicly explains that recommendations weigh user interactions (watch time, likes, and even time spent in LIVEs) most heavily. 

Increased input signals lead to increased visibility. Volume is structurally incentivized. YouTube, likewise, states that its recommendation system is designed to maximize viewer satisfaction and keep people watching—again favouring frequent, engaging output. 

For creators, their behaviour creates a perverse equilibrium: post more to be seen at all. 

But quantity multiplies the odds of context collapse—a joke for fans is a scandal to brands; a “raw confession” that feels intimate to loyal followers reads unprofessional to journalists, regulators, or future partners. 

Marwick and Boyd’s work show how social media compresses multiple audiences into a single stage where the performer cannot tune the message to each group. 

Case files: when oversharing detonates reach and reputation

1. Spectacle Over Judgment: The Aokigahara Backlash
   

   In December 2017, a top creator filmed and published footage from Japan’s Aokigahara forest featuring a deceased person. The outrage was global. YouTube removed his channels from its Google Preferred ad tier, paused originals, and publicly signalled that the video crossed bright ethical lines. 

   The episode is a clean illustration of the platform’s two-step: systems that reward boundary-pushing content, followed by corporate penalties when a creator’s “edginess” metastasizes into reputational damage for advertisers and the platform alike. 

   Modus operandi exposed: spectacle seeks short-term clicks; the archive produces long-term liability.
   

2. The Reputation Erosion Problem: Coriolanus and The Roman Crowd
   

   In Roman history—and later in Shakespeare’s retelling—the general Coriolanus stood as a war hero whose undoing came not from defeat in battle but from his words. He spoke with blunt honesty, voicing contempt for the common people whose support he desperately needed. His inability to restrain his speech, his refusal to flatter, and his disdain for the plebeians turned triumph into isolation.

   The people who once celebrated his victories came to see him as arrogant, even dangerous. In the end, Coriolanus was exiled, not because of military failure, but because of reputational collapse triggered by uncontrolled speech.

   Modus operandi exposed: strength and past glory cannot protect a leader who fails to control his tongue. Reputation, once stained, becomes the weapon enemies use to finish what words have already undone.

3. Platform Penalties: The James Charles Rupture
   

   Also in 2021, Morphe ended its partnership with James Charles; YouTube temporarily demonetized his channel under policies allowing action for off-platform behaviour deemed harmful to the community. 

   Penalties weren’t purely legal; they were reputational risk controls by commercial actors trying to signal higher standards to advertisers and audiences. 

   Modus operandi exposed: when trust erodes, distribution and monetization are the first levers pulled.
   

4. Glamour as Bait: The “Tinder Swindler” Playbook
   

   Shimon Hayut (Simon Leviev) engineered a persona of wealth and jet-set legitimacy through Instagram aesthetics—private jets, five-star hotels—converting image into credibility, then into requests for money framed as emergencies.

   After the Netflix documentary, he was banned from Tinder; the longer arc underscores how a constructed online reputation can enable fraud—and how quickly platforms and the press can reverse that perception once exposed. 

   Modus operandi exposed: conspicuous self-presentation cultivates parasocial trust; when the mask slips, the same visibility accelerates exposure.
   

Oversharing is Structurally Risky For Several Reasons, Not Just Anecdotal Evidence.

1. Context collapse magnifies misinterpretation. Fans, foes, employers, journalists, and regulators all receive the same post, and everyone judges it based on their own interpretation.

2. Self-disclosure bias: studies show people underestimate long-term risks while overweighing short-term social rewards, leading to habitual oversharing. Longitudinal and experimental work links greater disclosure to poorer risk assessment and problematic platform use.

3. Parasocial dynamics: disclosure can raise trust and purchase intent, but it’s double-edged. Recent work shows “authenticity” is not universally beneficial and that over-endorsement and perceived inauthenticity depress credibility. In practice, the type and amount of sharing matter more than the label “authentic.”

4. Recommendation opacity: even when audiences try to tune what they see, platform feedback tools only partially constrain recommendations (Mozilla’s multi-year user study). For creators, that means once a risky clip is live, downstream distribution is difficult to predict—or retract.

Counterargument (and limit): “But openness is what humanizes us.” True—measured disclosure fosters trust, and micro-influencers often win precisely because they feel closer and more relatable. 

The evidence supports that perceived authenticity correlates with purchase intention under certain conditions. The investigative caution is narrower: indiscriminate openness multiplies reputational downside without guaranteeing upside.

The Scammer’s Tactic Involves Weaponizing Oversharing

In corporate investigations, I’ve seen three recurring ploys that exploit our appetite for disclosure:

• The Luxury Mirage: A constant drip of status imagery (jets, watches, “hustle” dinners) builds an aura of competence and success. It lowers scepticism and accelerates financial requests (the Leviev case is illustrative).

• Confessional Camouflage: Public “vulnerability” posts (“I was broke…here’s the system I used”) create intimacy, then funnel audiences into courses or high-ticket “mentorships.” Research on parasocial engagement shows why this works: felt closeness elevates compliance.

• Flood-and-Forget: High posting frequency overwhelms scrutiny. By the time a claim is debunked, three new claims are live. Platform incentives quietly subsidize this behavior because frequency signals engagement.

As an ex-operative, I translate these words bluntly: disclosure is a social-engineering surface. The more a target reveals, the more precisely a malicious actor can time and frame the pitch.

Field guide for creators, executives, and brands (from the debrief room)

In corporate investigations, I’ve seen three recurring ploys that exploit our appetite for disclosure:

1. Adopt an “information hygiene” protocol.

   • Rule of latency: sleep on posts that reveal private relationships, legal disputes, or volatile opinions.
   • Rule of scope: ask, “Would I brief this to investors and my children?” If not, it doesn’t go online.
   • Rule of audit: monthly review of your top 50 clips for statements that could be misconstrued in a different context (journalist, regulator, court).

2. Engineer selective transparency.

   Share processes and lessons, not intimate details that can be spliced for outrage. Academic reviews show disclosure can help well-being and trust—when it’s intentional and bounded.

3. Red-team your content.

   Before publishing sensitive material, consider asking a colleague—ideally from outside your industry—to attempt to “misread” it. In intelligence, we assume hostile interpretation; creators should, too.

4. Throttle endorsements.

   Over-endorsement reduces perceived authenticity and trust. If you sell everything, the audience believes nothing. Recent studies connect over-endorsement to lower purchase intentions via credibility loss.

5. Prepare a crisis playbook.

   • The crisis playbook should include one values-anchored holding statement.
   • Develop a concrete corrective action plan.
   • There should be a single distribution map that indicates the location and timing of the apology.

Argument vs. Counterargument—What the Evidence Actually Says

Argument (supported): Algorithms reward volume and engagement; high frequency posting increases exposure to context collapse and reputational harm. Documented penalties—sponsor exits, demonetization, and ad-tier removal—follow when a creator’s archive yields scandal. 

Counterargument (bounded): Strategic openness can deepen trust and drive conversions. Authenticity signals correlate with purchase intent under certain conditions. But authenticity is not a blanket defence; beyond a threshold, “too much” or poorly framed disclosure backfires. 

Synthesis: Treat disclosure like a spotlight, not a floodlight. In war and in media, control of illumination determines who sees you—and what they do next.

Conclusion—the discipline that keeps you powerful

On patrol, I learned to ration words. In the studio, I’ve learned to ration posts. The battlefield has changed, but the underlying principles remain the same: if you do not control the information, it will end up controlling you.

If you lead a company, a brand, or a community, your voice must be audited, timed, and bounded. Oversharing can fuel an algorithm in the present, but it can erode your reputation in the future.

The creators who will endure are not the loudest—they are the most deliberate. 

Speak with purpose, publish with discipline, and let your work, not your oversharing, take the lead.

Introduction—The Corporate Illusion of Safety

When people think about reputational risk, they often assume it’s an influencer’s problem. “That’s for Instagram coaches and YouTube stars,” they say. But corporations are just as exposed—sometimes more so.

The digital age has erased the line between personal scandal and corporate scandal. A single tweet can sink share prices. 

A single video can erase decades of branding. And unlike the past, when companies could manage a slow news cycle, today the internet is merciless scandals erupt, spread, and escalate within hours.

Because of my background in intelligence and investigations, I’ve seen such events before. If a unit failed to take immediate, disciplined action after compromising its cover, the entire mission collapsed. 

In the boardroom, the same principle applies once exposure strikes, denial is suicide, but strategy can still save lives—and brands.

Case Study 1: Volkswagen’s Emissions Scandal

Volkswagen built its brand on “German engineering” and environmental responsibility. In 2015, the company’s installation of software to cheat emissions tests came to light. Overnight, VW’s reputation as a trusted automaker crumbled.

• The Rise: decades of quality branding.

• The Crack: investigators discovered inconsistencies.

• The Exposure: News broke, and regulators pounced.

• The Collapse: billions lost in fines, CEO resignations, and consumer trust destroyed.

The lesson? VW didn’t just break environmental laws—it broke the trust of millions. And in reputation, trust is currency.

Case Study 2: BP’s Deepwater Horizon Spill

BP branded itself as “Beyond Petroleum,” a company leading the green energy shift. But when the Deepwater Horizon oil rig exploded in 2010, killing 11 workers and creating one of the worst environmental disasters in history, that branding turned toxic.

CEO Tony Hayward worsened the crisis by saying he “wanted his life back”—a phrase that became a symbol of corporate arrogance. 

Public outrage soared, stock prices collapsed, and the company spent billions in compensation.

The lesson? In crisis, words matter. A careless statement can destroy a reputation faster than the incident itself.

Case Study 3: Boeing 737 Max

Boeing, a symbol of aviation excellence, encountered its most challenging period following two 737 Max crashes in 2018 and 2019, which resulted in the deaths of 346 people. Investigations revealed cost-cutting, inadequate training, and attempts to downplay safety issues.

For an aircraft manufacturer, safety is sacred. The moment that perception cracked, Boeing’s reputation nosedived. Orders were cancelled, billions were lost, and trust remains scarred.

The lesson? Reputation is built not only on marketing but also on core values. If safety—or ethics—is sacrificed for profit, the world will find out.

Why Reputations Collapse So Fast

Whether it’s a dating coach or a multinational corporation, the same forces drive reputational collapse:

1. Contradiction: The gap between what is preached and what is practiced.

2. Exposure: The internet amplifies every inconsistency.

3. Public Opinion: Once the crowd turns, the brand becomes the target.

4. Failure to Respond: Silence, denial, or arrogance accelerates the fall.

The speed is staggering. In intelligence, we called it cascade failure—one breach triggers another until the whole system collapses. In business, it’s the same: scandals are viral by design.

Corporate Framework—Protect Before You Collapse

This is where my battlefield lessons translate directly to the boardroom. Reputation management is not about responding after disaster—it’s about preventing the disaster before it explodes.

Here are four pillars every organization must adopt:

1. Transparency in Foundations
   Ensure your brand story is verifiable from the outset. Just as I advise individuals not to hide skeletons, companies must ensure their data, credentials, and compliance are bulletproof. Had Volkswagen placed a higher priority on transparency, the cheating software would have never been discovered.

2. Contracts and Confidentiality
   For individuals, NDAs protect conversations. For corporations, confidentiality protocols must protect both clients and internal whistleblowers. A company that silences employees instead of protecting them creates enemies inside.

3. Control of Communication
   Just as I tell professionals not to outsource their voice, corporations must guard their narrative. BP’s CEO lost control of the message with one careless sentence. A disciplined communication plan, rehearsed and verified, is the difference between survival and collapse.

4. Ethics and Consistency
   In war, soldiers follow a code. In business, employees must live the brand’s values. Without a culture of ethics, shortcuts become scandals. Boeing learned this painfully. Ethics must not be painted on walls—they must be lived in every boardroom decision.

Identifying and Measuring Corporate Reputational Risk

Companies often underestimate the scale of reputational threats. They invest in cybersecurity and compliance but ignore the softer battlefield of trust. Here’s how to get ahead:

• Audit Reputation Regularly: Use surveys, focus groups, and independent assessments to understand how stakeholders perceive you.

• Assign Risk Scores: Not every risk is equal. Measure which vulnerabilities.

• Red-Team Yourself: In intelligence, we asked, “How would the enemy attack us?” Corporations must ask, “How would critics or competitors expose us?”

• Integrate Pre- and Post-Mortem Analysis: As I wrote in This Explains Why You Will Never Succeed in the Market, leaders must anticipate risk before it explodes (pre-mortem) and extract difficult lessons afterward (post-mortem). This cycle builds resilience and ensures that mistakes, once made, are never repeated.

• Crisis Simulations: Conduct drills. Just as armies rehearse combat, companies must rehearse reputational attacks. How quickly would you be able to respond if a scandal arose this evening?

The Mario Bekes Advantage—From Battlefield to Boardroom

What sets me apart from traditional consultants is simple: I don’t just talk theory. I lived this on the battlefield, where one wrong move could cost lives. I conducted investigations where credibility meant winning or losing the case.

In my article Public Opinion Manipulation, I showed how narratives are shaped and weaponized. In How to Win Over Competitors Using the Three Stages of Conflict, I explained how rivals exploit weaknesses. And in This Explains Why You Will Never Succeed in the Market, I laid out the methodology of pre- and post-mortem analysis.

I teach leaders to think like investigators, anticipate like intelligence officers, and act like commanders in the heat of crisis. 

Where others analyze failure after the fact, I build systems that prevent reputational collapse before it begins.

Conclusion—Reputation Is the Corporate Battlefield

Reputation is not a logo. 

It is not a campaign. It is the invisible currency that sustains brands, leaders, and corporations alike.

Sadia Khan’s downfall shows how quickly an individual can collapse when preaching does not match practice. 

Volkswagen, BP, and Boeing demonstrate the same at a corporate scale: billions in value destroyed, trust shattered, and legacies rewritten in days.

The battlefield of reputation is unforgiving. As soon as contradictions surface, the internet takes on a decisive role. 

But with preparation, transparency, and discipline, collapse can be prevented.

This aspect is where I step in. I am Mario Bekes. I have walked through real battlefields and corporate minefields alike. 

And my message to every CEO, board, and professional is this: do not wait for exposure to strike. Build your crisis armour now. In the digital age, reputation is not only fragile but also crucial.

Transforming Fear into the Foundation of True Bravery

Introduction: Understanding Why Courage Cannot Exist Without Fear

It was 2 a.m. on a silent summer night in 1991. The air hung still and heavy, almost mocking me with its tranquillity. I was barely eighteen, a young person carrying the weight of a grown-up’s war. 

Strapped to my back was an MG42, with thousands of bullets winding along a cold conveyor belt—ready to be used at a moment’s notice. 

And beside me, bridging the worlds of innocence and conflict, was my childhood’s last remnant: a plush teddy bear, serving as my pillow.

That night, I met fear.

My stomach shook uncontrollably. My lips were cracked and dry. The pounding of my heart was so intense that I felt it might explode out of my chest. Fear itself seemed to be whispering down my neck, threatening my survival until dawn. 

Each second stretched into eternity, marked only by the slow, relentless ticking of the wall clock. I prayed—to anyone, to anything, to everyone—simply to make it through the night.

And yet, I survived. This was not due to the absence of fear, but rather to the ability to cope with it. 

Over 1,800 consecutive days in combat, I discovered a powerful truth: fear is not the adversary. Rather, it is the raw material from which courage is forged.

Fear and Courage: Partners on the Journey

Years later, I watched the film “Edge of Tomorrow”. In one scene, Master Sergeant Farell says, “It’s all right to be scared. Remember, there’s no courage without fear.”

At that moment, I smiled—not because it was just a clever movie line, but because I knew, from hard-won experience, that it was the truth.

Too often, we see fear and courage as adversaries—fear the villain, courage the hero. But they are intertwined. 

One cannot exist without the other. Without fear, there is no meaning to courage; if nothing threatens us, there is no bravery in pressing on.

As Mark Twain wisely observed, “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.” True courage does not deny fear’s presence; it stands tall in the face of it.

The Psychology of Fear

Fear is not a weakness. It is one of the oldest survival mechanisms, woven into the very fabric of our being. 

Fear sharpens our senses, heightens our awareness, and prepares us to fight or flee. Without it, humanity would not have survived predators, wars, or disasters.

Today, we may not face lions or bullets, but our fears are no less real: fear of failure, rejection, humiliation, or the unknown. Our bodies respond the same way—racing hearts, trembling hands, sleepless nights.

Yet the stigma persists: we are told fear makes us fragile. Fear proves we are alive and engaged with what matters to us.

Courage: The Transformative Response

If fear is natural, then courage is a conscious choice. It is not inherited or automatic but cultivated through action. Courage is deciding to move forward, even while fear claws at your throat.

Consider this:

• If a firefighter runs into a burning building without fear, that is recklessness. If they feel fear yet choose to save others, that is courage.

• If a soldier advances without fear, it is blindness. If they advance while trembling inside, that is courage.

• Starting a business, speaking truth to power, reaching out for help, or admitting vulnerability while fearing judgment are examples of courage.

Courage is meaningful precisely because fear is present.

Cultural and Historical Echoes

The inseparable bond between courage and fear echoes through history, literature, and philosophy.

Christopher Paolini, author of Eragon, wrote, “Without fear there cannot be courage.”

Eddie Rickenbacker, America’s most decorated WWI pilot, said, “Courage is doing what you’re afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you’re scared.”

Across ancient epics, from Homer’s Iliad to the Norse sagas, heroes were never without fear. Their greatness lay in feeling fear and acting regardless.

From civil rights leaders to explorers, from the child learning to swim to the person daring to speak their truth—courage is always accompanied by fear.

The Power of Accepting Fear

One of the greatest mistakes people make is waiting for fear to disappear before acting. 

That day will never come. Fear shifts shape but never truly leaves.

Waiting for fear to vanish is like waiting for a life unlived.

The secret is acceptance. Acknowledge fear’s presence: “Yes, you are here, but you will not decide for me.” Fear does not need to be silenced; it needs to be understood.

Once you accept fear as a natural part of the human experience, you unlock your potential for courage.

Lessons from the Battlefield—and Beyond

My battlefield involved actual combat, bullets, and nights spent under fire. Yours may be different, but the principles are universal. Life presents each of us with moments where fear threatens to paralyse us.

Here are some lessons fear has taught me, which you can embrace in your life:

• Reframe fear. When fear appears, ask: What opportunity is hidden here? Fear often points us toward growth.

• Validate your emotions. Fear does not make you weak. It makes you human. Accept it without shame.

• Act anyway. Courage is not the absence of trembling hands; it is moving them anyway.

• Support others. When someone admits fear, do not dismiss them. Acknowledge their courage in facing it.

• Recognize small acts of bravery. Speaking the truth, asking for help, or daring to try are examples of courage in action.

Fear as a Teacher

Looking back on that night in 1991, with a teddy bear beneath my head and a machine gun by my side, I see now that fear was my greatest teacher. It showed me vulnerability, yes—but also resilience.

Fear stripped away illusions of invincibility and reminded me I was human. Only by embracing my humanity could I choose courage, repeatedly, through 1,800 days of combat and every challenge that followed.

Today, I no longer see fear as an enemy. I see it as a guide.

Closing Reflection: Choosing to Move Forward

The fundamental essence of humanity lies in the interplay between fear and courage. Fear reminds us of our limits; courage allows us to transcend them.

Your battlefield may not resemble mine. It could be the fear of starting over, the stress of speaking up, or the danger of the unknown. But the lesson is the same:

Fear will always be there.

So will courage.

And when you choose to act—not because you are fearless, but because you are afraid and still step forward—you embody the very essence of bravery.

Courage begins not when fear ends, but when you choose to move forward with fear as your companion. That is where true strength lives.

An Investigative Crime Report on the $40 Billion Collapse and the Lessons That Echo Across Crypto

Introduction—The First Rule of Deception

“When something is too good to be true, it usually is.”

That sentence is not just scepticism—it’s survival. In my years navigating battlefields, boardrooms, and betrayal, I’ve noticed that the most enticing promises are often the deadliest traps.

The digital asset world mirrors that reality. In 2024, Americans alone lost $9.3 billion to crypto scams—a 66% jump from the previous year. 

Globally, fraud has siphoned off $12.4 billion through hacks and scams, while illicit wallets now hold around $51 billion. Every statistic conceals shattered lives, families, and financial futures.

Standing at the center of one of the most dramatic collapses in crypto history is Do Kwon, the co-founder of Terraform Labs. His creation—TerraUSD (UST) and Luna—was sold as a flawless design; in reality, it was a ticking time bomb. 

His operation blew up a $40 billion market cap in 2022 and now serves as a blood-lettered textbook of how innovation without accountability can become a weapon.

Who Is Do Kwon: From Engineer to Fugitive

Do Kwon (born Kwon Do-Hyung in 1991, Seoul) studied computer science at Stanford University, graduating in 2015. 

He briefly worked at big tech firms like Microsoft and Apple before founding Anyfi, a decentralized networking startup, which later came under scrutiny for its misuse of public funding. 

In 2018, he co-founded Terraform Labs alongside Daniel Shin, launching Luna and then UST, an algorithmic stablecoin intended to maintain a $1 peg by minting and burning Luna. 

By early 2022, Terra’s ecosystem looked epic—its total value topped $50 billion, and Kwon was widely hailed as a crypto visionary. 

But cracks appeared. In May 2022, UST lost its dollar peg. A presumed algorithmic safety net failed, causing both UST and Luna to collapse—wiping out nearly $45 billion in market cap within a single week and sparking waves of losses across the crypto ecosystem. 

Kwon became a fugitive, accused of crypto crimes in multiple jurisdictions. In March 2023, he was arrested in Montenegro while trying to board a flight to Dubai using forged documents. He was subsequently extradited to the U.S.

Modus Operandi: The Anatomy of the Terra Fraud

Even the most complex scams follow familiar steps. Kwon’s collapse was no exception:

1. Seductive Promises
   Terra was branded as innovation itself: decentralized, algorithmically stable, and offering high returns. The pitch was irresistible.

2. Hidden Truths
   The algorithm was brittle—dependent on continuous new capital. When mass withdrawals began, the peg broke. Instead of transparency, Kwon mocked critics, calling them “poor” or “unintelligent”—a pressure campaign that discouraged scepticism.

3. Fabricated Stability
   Prosecutors revealed that after a prior de-peg in 2021, Kwon secretly hired a high-frequency trading firm to buy UST and restore its value. He then portrayed the restoration as algorithmic—misleading both retail and institutional investors

4. Crash and Disappearance
   As UST and Luna imploded, funds were moved through shell companies and offshore accounts. Kwon vanished until his arrest in 2023.

The Guilty Plea: Justice Catches Up

In August 2025, Kwon pleaded guilty to two counts of fraud in a Manhattan federal court—conspiracy to commit wire fraud and fraud—related to the Terra collapse. Speaking from the dock, he admitted, “What I did was wrong,” and apologized to.

His plea deal carries serious consequences:

• He agreed to forfeit over $19 million in assets and relinquish any ownership interest in Terraform Labs and its tokens

• Prosecutors will recommend up to 12 years in prison, though the sentencing guidelines allow up to 25 years. His sentencing hearing is scheduled for December 11, 2025.

In 2024, Kwon and Terraform Labs also settled with the SEC, amounting to $4.55 billion, which includes an $80 million civil fine and a lifetime ban from crypto trading.

Echoes of Ignatova and Bankman-Fried

The Terra saga is not an isolated incident—it fits into a broader pattern:

• Ruja Ignatova (OneCoin): Claimed to have invented a revolutionary blockchain. Her Ponzi scheme pulled in over $4 billion before she vanished in 2017.

• Sam Bankman-Fried (FTX): Built a public image of eccentric brilliance. Instead, he misused customer funds—leading to FTX’s collapse in 2022 and billions in losses.

All three cases display common elements:

• Overconfidence disguised as innovation

• Charisma wielded it like a weapon.

• Technical architecture as a smokescreen

• Silence and deception guiding the rise—and then the fall

The Crypto Battlefield: Why You Must Vigilantly Watch

Blockchain technology holds promise—but is also a dark battlefield where illusion and hype can kill. The terrain is fraught for a few reasons:

• Regulatory Vacuums: Many projects exist beyond real oversight.

• Opacity by Design: Whitepapers and audits are dense and often misleading.

• Cross-Border Complexity: Funds vanish across jurisdictions, frustrating recovery.

• Psychological Warfare: Media hype, fear of missing out, and influencer marketing amplify greed and suppress doubt.

• Innovation Before Verification: New products launch faster than they can be tested.

Behind the tech lies a human weakness—greed, hope, fear. Scammers don’t need hacking skills—just emotional manipulation.

Defence—Built on a Sceptical Intelligence Mindset

According to my investigations, resilience starts with suspicion. Here’s how to arm yourself:

• Question the source: Who audits it? Who enforces it?

• Resist guarantees: No algorithm is a failsafe..

• Limit your stake: Never gamble life savings.

• Judge the architect: Those who scorn critics often hide cracks.

• Heed the rule: If it sounds too good to be true step back.

Conclusion – Innovation Must Be Accountable

Do Kwon’s fall is not just a dramatic ending—it’s a case study in why innovation without accountability fertile ground for chaos and fraud is. Terra was not an accident—it was calculated.

As the next wave of crypto projects rises, we must remember the victims—the families robbed, the dreams shattered. 

In this battlefield, scepticism is the armour that protects us. Real progress cannot be achieved at the expense of truth.

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?