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Jiufeng Mountain: Entertainment Consumerism and AI-ism: A Hidden Prelude to the Decline of Human Civilization

Throughout the long arc of human history, a warning echoes again and again: when a society places entertainment and consumption at the pinnacle of its values, surrendering to the senses’ immediate gratification while abandoning the pursu...

Throughout the long arc of human history, a warning echoes again and again: when a society places entertainment and consumption at the pinnacle of its values, surrendering to the senses’ immediate gratification while abandoning the pursuit of spirit, creativity, and responsibility, the seeds of its decline lie quietly sown. The final eras of ancient Babylon and the later Roman Empire are vivid testaments to this pattern. Today, as tech oligarchs herald AI as the bringer of unprecedented abundance, promising people will be freed from work to live lives of leisure and consumption, we’re repeating the same mistakes. The fusion of this "AI-ism" with the supremacy of entertainment and consumption is quietly shaping a future of withered spirits and drained creativity.

Looking back to antiquity, Babylon’s splendor once astonished the world. Under Nebuchadnezzar II, Babylon grew into the most magnificent metropolis of its era, its grand projects—the Hanging Gardens, the Ishtar Gate, and other monumental works—displaying the empire’s wealth and ambition. Yet at the height of its power, indulgence and excess took hold. Historical accounts note that even as the Persian army stood at the city gates, Babylonians remained immersed in festival song and dance, oblivious to the threat at their doorstep. The court’s extravagant lifestyle and rampant hedonism eroded the empire’s vitality. In 539 BCE, Babylon fell easily to Cyrus the Great’s Persian forces, marking the end of the Neo-Babylonian Empire. Pride and debauchery were not mere surface symptoms but a degeneration of deeper social functions: both commoners and elites had lost the will to strive, intoxicated by feasts of matter and sense.

Rome’s decline is an even starker example. In its republican era, Rome was renowned for civic virtue, military discipline, and commitment to its republican ideals. But in the imperial era, "bread and circuses" (panem et circenses) became the core strategy for maintaining power. Rulers pacified the masses and diverted their discontent by distributing free grain and staging grand spectacles—gladiatorial combats, chariot races, and other mass revelries. The poet Juvenal satirized how the Roman people, who once wielded military power and held public office, now cared only for "bread and circuses." These cheap distractions and handouts soothed social unrest in the short term, but they fostered a vast dependent underclass with little sense of responsibility. As civic spirit withered and military and administrative capacity declined, the empire slowly ground down under internal strife and external pressure, eventually fracturing and collapsing. The elevation of entertainment above all else is no harmless pastime: it is a slow poison that eats away at the state’s foundations, making people forget their duty to shape history and turning them into passive bystanders to consumption.

History’s mirror casts a long shadow over contemporary society. As the birthplace of modern mass entertainment, the United States—home to Hollywood, pop music, and a global sports industry—has long dominated cultural flows worldwide. Hollywood has shaped global taste for decades, spreading consumerist and hedonist values through its films and cementing its place as a core pillar of American soft power. Yet this model has also deepened domestic social divides and spiritual emptiness: reality TV, the instant gratification of social media, the ubiquity of fast food culture—countless people spend hours each day immersed in passive entertainment, rather than pursuing meaningful creation or contribution.

Meanwhile, China and the rest of East Asia have rapidly closed the gap. Online entertainment has boomed, with micro-dramas, reality shows, live streaming, and countless other formats proliferating. Their reach and cultural influence already rival, and in some cases surpass, traditional Western markets. China’s micro-drama industry has exploded in recent years: by 2024, its market value had far outstripped domestic box-office revenue, with hundreds of millions of regular users glued to these shows. These formats win viewers over with fast-paced plots and relentless sensory stimulation: cheap, and highly addictive. At the same time, a culture of food worship and consumerism around "lying flat" essentials has been spreading quietly across the country. The "lying flat" movement first emerged as a pushback against cutthroat competition and involution, but in practice it often devolves into a lifestyle of low aspiration and low creativity, further entrenching dependence on entertainment and instant gratification.

Even more alarming is the "AI-ism" blueprint touted by tech oligarchs. They claim AI and robotics will usher in an era of unimaginable material abundance, where work is an optional hobby, and all people need do is enjoy life, spend, and be entertained. Figures like Elon Musk predict that in the future, work will be "optional," with universal high incomes supporting a "post-work" society. This vision sounds utopian, but it hides enormous risks: when AI takes over as the primary driver of production and creation, people will lose the sense of purpose that comes from striving and the growth that comes from mastering skills, and vast swathes of the population will be reduced to nothing more than consumers. History has shown time and again that groups without purpose or a sense of responsibility quickly fall into spiritual emptiness and moral decay. Excessive entertainment and consumption amplify this effect: people’s outlook shifts from active ambition to passive pleasure, their bodies grow weak from lack of exercise and self-discipline, and their creativity withers amid the homogenized content algorithms feed them.

Picture this future: daily life is flooded with AI-generated short videos, virtual reality entertainment, and customized food and consumer goods. People can access basic comforts and even luxury goods with no effort, but in doing so they lose the inner drive to face challenges, solve problems, and create meaning. Society will be filled with "wine bags and rice bags"—individuals whose bodies grow frail from sitting and overeating, whose spirits grow shallow from the absence of deep thought. The foundations of civilization—innovation, cohesion, and resilience—will be shaken. Babylon’s revelry and Rome’s arenas have found new life in our scrolling screens and delivered meals.

To be clear, technology itself is not the culprit. The question is how we choose to use it: will we let AI become a tool that unlocks human creativity, or one that breeds dependence and numbs the mind? History shows that civilizations overly addicted to entertainment and consumption often crumble quietly, even as they appear prosperous on the surface. As we enter the AI era, the threat we face is not just technological change, but the erosion of values that often comes with it. Only by returning to the traditions of creation, responsibility, and moderation can humanity avoid repeating the mistakes of the past and keep the soul of civilization strong, even in times of abundance. Otherwise, the revelry of entertainment-consumer supremacy will become a magnificent overture to its demise.