The Great Deception Never Ended

I’ve had Van Morrison’s “The Great Deception” on repeat lately - even more since a friend sent it to me a few weeks ago.

Heard it before, sure, but now it hits different. Not nostalgia, just recognition. Like the song is still playing out in real time.

The line about plastic revolutionaries taking the money and running? It sticks because it’s simple. That’s the whole cycle. You build a following by speaking against the system, gain trust, position yourself as the one who sees through it, then the checks start clearing. The attention comes, the access opens up, and the tone shifts. Not overnight, but slowly. Before you know it, they’re indistinguishable from what they were calling out. People don’t want to admit that part. It’s not just them; it’s a pattern. Music, media, tech, politics, it all loops back to this.

Van talks about “Love City,” where they rip you off with a smile instead of a gun. That lands because it’s true. Nobody needs force anymore. The system is clean now, polished, friendly. You opt in, you agree, you hand things over willingly because it feels easy or aligned with what you believe. It’s a different kind of control, and the worst part? The people doing it look like the good guys. They stand in the right places, say the right things, until you’re on the receiving end and suddenly everything looks clear.

The Cadillac example still applies. People shouting “power to the people” while driving luxury cars hasn’t gone anywhere; it just scaled up. Now it’s influencers and founders building brands off being “real,” stacking subscriptions and sponsorships behind a curtain of gated access. Making money isn’t the problem. Pretending you’re outside the system while feeding off it is where it breaks.

The Rembrandt reference hits for the same reason. Someone with real skill, real depth, struggling to survive while surface-level work gets rewarded because it fits the algorithm. You can spend years mastering something, or learn how to package it for attention. One pays faster, and most systems reward that one.

Then there’s the media angle. Stories get buried, narratives shaped, people disappear when they don’t fit. It’s not heavy-handed anymore. Information doesn’t need to be blocked; it just gets drowned out or reframed until it loses impact. Platforms, algorithms, outrage cycles, it all plays a role now. Quieter, but more effective.

The part about teardrops in their eyes is what stays with me most. Underneath the noise, there are just people trying to get by, trying to trust something, hoping someone’s being straight with them. Getting burned over and over wears you down. You stop engaging, or you question everything until nothing feels solid. That “not wanting to bother” feeling isn’t apathy; it’s exhaustion.

The song keeps circling back to the same idea, The Great Deception. Not one event, not one lie, but a constant layer over everything. And the uncomfortable truth is that it’s not just imposed from the top. People participate in it, benefit from it, repeat it because it works. That’s why it sticks, there’s no clean side to stand on.

You see it clearly in tech right now. Privacy gets marketed while data gets collected; freedom gets talked about while systems get more centralized. People push back, build something new, and then the same patterns creep in once it gains traction. It happens over and over.

That’s why the song still lands. It’s not tied to a moment, it describes a loop. And the loop is still running. The only real shift is awareness, being able to see when something feels off even if it looks good on the surface. Not reacting to every voice that claims to be against the system, but watching what happens when attention and money show up.

That tells you everything.

Van wasn’t pointing at one group; he was pointing at behavior.

That hasn’t changed.