How You Are Being Manipulated and You Give In. Stop This Nightmare – Niccolo Machiavelli.

[Cloned Boy]

HOW YOU ARE BEING MANIPULATED.

Are you sure your decisions are really yours? Every day, subtle psychological tricks make us do things we don’t want to do. Loved ones, colleagues, anyone can pull the strings. Today, we’ll expose the most cunning Machiavellian-inspired manipulation tactics and teach you how to resist them. Don’t be fooled, watch until the end. They say paranoia is when it seems like there’s a conspiracy around every corner.

But what if this isn’t a figment of a sick imagination, but a sober look at a world where every step, every word is part of an invisible game? Yes, a game that is constantly being played, and the most insidious thing is that most people don’t even know they’re participating in. Every interaction, every passing conversation, every glance a person chooses to ignore, or every favor they feel obligated to do may not be as innocent as they seem.

Behind the scenes of everyday life, as if in a shadow theater, people, sometimes even the closest ones, skillfully use the most subtle psychological tricks. Their goal? To subjugate someone else's will, direct their choice in the direction they need, distort the self-perception of the object of manipulation beyond recognition. The wise Machiavelli warned that the desire for power and influence does not always come in the form of weapons and rattle.

No, its most effective forms are often wrapped in charm, seasoned with ostentatious kindness and served with a disarming smile. Today begins a journey into the dark depths of human nature, into the world of the nine most common manipulation tactics that are used against unsuspecting people every day. This is only the first part of the revelations, and by its completion, everyone will not only learn to recognize such behavior, they will acquire impenetrable armor against it.

So, let's begin. The first and perhaps most common tool in the manipulator's arsenal is the guilt hook. Machiavelli said that a sense of duty and the desire for social approval are the most powerful levers of control. Remember that special look you get after a firm "no, that's subtle anger, no, that's quiet, deep disappointment, masterfully played."

An oppressive silence hangs in the room, as if the air were thickening, and the person suddenly feels like a traitor, having let down in the most serious way. This guilt hook strikes not at logic, but at the very core of morality. Machiavelli taught that morality, especially that imposed by society, is often nothing more than a tool of control, an invisible cage that teaches you to behave correctly in order to deserve acceptance.

So when someone skillfully arouses guilt, he does not enter into an open argument. He makes a person argue with himself. Doubts begin to gnaw at me. Was I too selfish? Did I act too harshly? Am I really that cold and unfeeling? In fact, as Machiavelli foresaw, there is a subtle shifting of responsibility.

The manipulator lifts the burden of his discomfort or unfulfilled desire and puts it on his shoulders. And now someone else's sincere desire to relieve this imposed discomfort is used as a lever of pressure. This is how guilt distorts personal boundaries, forcing them to bend. It does not need to scream, it is enough for it that the person begins to care. I remember how one day a colleague, let's call him Vasily, asked me to stay late after work to help him with his report, citing family difficulties. I politely refused, since I had my own urgent matters.

His face instantly took on the expression of a martyr, and he quietly said, "Well, it looks like I'll have to sit alone until night, my family will not see me again." At that moment, I felt like the last egoist, although logic dictated that his work is his responsibility. It took me a lot of effort to resist and not give in to this feeling. Breaking the unspoken contract that goodness depends on someone else’s approval is the key.

When no is met with an attempt to make you feel worthless, it’s important to hold your ground. Refuse to explain, refuse to justify. A person doesn’t have to apologize for protecting his energy and time. Someone else’s discomfort is not his problem. After all, guilt can only trap you if you believe that saying yes to others means being kind, but often, as Machiavelli taught, it simply means betraying yourself.

But what if the accusation is not so subtle, but hits you hard, turning everything upside down? And what to do when reality itself begins to distort under the onslaught of someone else’s will? The next tactic, about which Machiavelli would probably have written a whole treatise if he had had modern psychological terms, is the “crooked mirror” or “reversal of guilt.” Have you ever walked away from a conversation feeling like you screwed up, even though you were the one being mistreated in the first place?

This is not an accident. It is a sophisticated strategy that manipulators use to shift the blame onto their victims, so much so that they themselves lose track of reality and illusion. Here’s how it usually happens: a person points out a lie, a cruel comment, or a pattern of disrespect. Instead of acknowledging their behavior, the manipulator instantly shifts focus.

They might say something like, “Why are you always so dramatic? It’s impossible to have a normal conversation with you. Maybe if you weren’t so sensitive and vulnerable, I wouldn’t have to act this way.” And suddenly, instead of making a claim, the victim is forced to defend themselves, to justify their own feelings and reactions. It’s a real sleight of hand, an emotional illusion of the highest order.

Machiavelli foresaw that whoever controls the narrative controls the situation. The manipulator turns the story inside out not by denying what happened, although that can happen, but by questioning the very personality of the opponent – his memory, his reactions, his emotional state. And in this fog of doubt, he triumphs. Why? Because the human brain instinctively craves peace, it strives for conflict resolution.

And when someone skillfully undermines self-confidence, the mind grasps at anything, even false guilt, just to feel the ground under its feet again. Machiavelli taught that the will to power does not always shout and threaten. Sometimes it whispers, sowing confusion and uncertainty. The manipulator does not need to suppress by force, it is enough for him to make a person doubt himself. I had a situation with an old acquaintance, say, Nikolai.

He was constantly late for our meetings, sometimes an hour or more. When I gently pointed this out to him once again, he exploded. You are always dissatisfied with something, you just want to find fault. I am exhausted as it is, and you with your petty complaints. Maybe if you were a more understanding friend, I would not feel such pressure, because of which everything falls apart. I was dumbfounded. For a moment I actually thought. Maybe I really am too demanding? It took a while to realize how cleverly he had turned the situation around.

You can fight this by stuttering in the moment, in the facts, in what a person felt before their reality was distorted, not falling for someone else's story, standing your ground. Say firmly, "It's not about my feelings, it's about your actions," then shut up. Silence, as Machiavelli understood, "is a powerful weapon, a cure for distortions, it deprives the manipulator of the chaos that he so needs for control.

Stand your ground, even when the ground is slipping from under your feet. Because when the crooked mirror breaks, it will finally become clear who was really behind the cracks, whether you can recognize these two techniques in your life. And are you ready to learn about the tactics that disguise themselves as sincerity in order to penetrate into the very heart, and now about false vulnerability. There is such a ostentatious frankness, which is in fact a fake, such a pseudo-vulnerability that serves not for true rapprochement, but for sophisticated control.

Machiavelli repeatedly emphasized how important it is for the sovereign to seem, and not to be. This is how it works in interpersonal relationships. Someone suddenly begins to share something very personal, a painful story from the past, a deep trauma, a frank admission of their weaknesses.

It feels so intimate, like you’re being trusted with something so intimate that your natural defenses weaken. You begin to feel compassion, empathy. But underneath that wave of emotion, there’s something elusive, because not every display of vulnerability is honest. Some use it as bait, as an express pass to someone else’s sympathy, as a shortcut to making someone else loyal and obligated before they even know who they’re really talking to.

This is the trap of false vulnerability, and it’s more common than you might think. Hearing someone else’s pain can create an unspoken but powerful pressure. I can’t leave them, they’re here, I have to be there for them, I owe them. But true vulnerability, as Machiavelli would have taught if he’d been talking about friendship rather than politics, doesn’t come with unspoken commitments. It’s built on reciprocity and trust, not a sense of duty.

Why do people resort to this tactic? Because emotional self-disclosure, even if it is staged, is disarming. It inverts the power dynamic. After all, showing weakness paradoxically makes the other person a caregiver, and thus puts them in a position of strength that can be exploited. Machiavelli knew that power often hides behind a mask of powerlessness. When someone appears broken and defenseless, we not only feel relatively safe, but also responsible for them.

And herein lies the trap. Such people do not ask for support, they demand an emotional debt that will then have to be repaid with interest. One day, a new acquaintance, let's call her Maria, on the second or third meeting, began to tell me a tragic story of her childhood, full of deprivation and betrayal. I was deeply touched, I felt enormous sympathy.

And within a couple of days, she began to contact me with numerous requests - to lend money, to help with moving, to babysit her dog. And it was all presented as if, knowing her story, I simply couldn’t say no. I realized that her revelations were a prelude to exploiting my empathy. You can recognize this by paying attention to timing and context. Genuine vulnerability is revealed slowly, mutually, and without ulterior motives, as trust grows.

But when someone spills something very powerful and personal early in a relationship and then immediately or very quickly begins to lay claim to someone else’s time, energy, resources, or demands acquiescence in their behavior, it’s worth pausing and asking yourself whether I’m feeling a genuine connection or whether I’m being cornered by my own best feelings. Because if someone else’s candor makes you feel obligated, that’s not intimacy, it’s a trap set by an experienced hunter.

Stand firm, empathy should never be used against the one who feels it. True connection invites it, not forces it. But now it gets really dangerous. The next tactic we'll look at is quieter than guilt. It's sharper than any accusation, and far more subtle than false vulnerability.

It doesn't raise your voice, it masterfully heightens the victim's confusion and dismay. Once you spot it, you'll realize how often people use it to control others' decisions without ever saying a word. We'll cover it later, and then two more tactics that are even harder to defend against unless you know exactly what to look for. Stay alert, it's about to get darker.

Do you recognize anyone in these descriptions? And are you willing to delve even deeper into the web of manipulation to become truly invulnerable? Listen to the quiet whispers of manipulation that weave through the mind more skillfully than any poison. Let's start with the first and most insidious of traps: the delay loop. When you hear "let me think about it," "maybe next week," or the treacherous "I just need a little time," you know you're dealing with a procrastinator.

Machiavelli said that delay is the weapon of those who fear open combat but yearn to retain control over someone else's time and hopes. Deep down, you already know that the promises will never come to fruition, but the tactic creates the illusion of forward movement, keeping you in place. Why does it work? Because it feeds your hope, giving you just enough to keep you there.

And when you bring it up again, you're accused of being impatient or, worse, too demanding. Machiavelli taught that those who are incapable of action often invent elaborate excuses to mask their willful inaction. Behind each, perhaps later, there is almost always a cowardly “no” that they lack the courage to say out loud. So what is really being manipulated here? Your time, your sense of emotional advancement.

You stop asking, you start waiting, justifying their silence as the space they need, although in fact it is a leash. Machiavelli foresaw that waiting, fed by false hope, exhausts the will and subjugates it to someone else’s. By refusing to negotiate with uncertainty, you break these shackles. If someone cannot give you clarity, give it to yourself, put a period, say it once, say it clearly.

And if they hesitate, accept their delay as your decision. For your peace of mind is not a puzzle that they have the right to endlessly reassemble. I myself have encountered this more than once. I remember how one contractor, let's call him Vasily, fed me with promises about the project's delivery. "Exactly, Nikolay Petrovich, a couple more touches, and I could see that the work was at a standstill."

And he dragged it out until I set a strict deadline myself. I thought then that Machiavelli was right, that indecision and delays are a form of passive resistance that must be stopped by one’s own determination. Only then did things move forward, albeit with difficulty. But what if the opponent uses an even more insidious method, playing not on time, but on self-esteem? How do you recognize and neutralize someone who undermines your confidence without even raising their voice? Imagine you weren’t even in the competition, but suddenly you feel like a loser.

It’s a quiet comparison, when someone subtly mentions others to make you feel worse. Maria did it much better. Most people would have done it long ago. You’re not like others I’ve worked with, who were much more disciplined. At first, this may seem like feedback, perhaps even motivation.

But Machiavelli warned. Beware of those who sow doubt under the guise of good intentions. It’s a silent war against your self-confidence, designed to keep you constantly striving for approval you’ll never fully receive. Why is this so effective? Because it weaponizes your natural desire to belong, to fit in. Machiavelli believed that comparison was a form of psychological control used by the mediocre to keep the great in check.

And in this case, they don’t have to insult you directly, they just have to praise someone else in your presence. What happens next? You doubt yourself. You start to act out, trying harder not out of joy or inspiration, but out of quiet desperation, trying to reclaim your sense of self-worth. How do you stop this by removing yourself from the invisible race?

You don’t have to outdo a ghost. You don’t have to live in someone else’s shadow to feel worthy. And most importantly, you don’t have to constantly prove your worth to someone who keeps changing the rules of the game, moving, as Machiavelli said, “the goalposts.” Recognize this tactic not as a call to action, but as an attempt to make you cower and submit. Then stop playing their game, it's painfully familiar.

Once at a meeting, my then manager Ivan casually dropped this. But my previous manager Peter solved such issues playfully. I felt the sting then, although I knew it was pure manipulation. I thought this was a classic technique described by Machiavelli - pleading through the exaltation of another, often fictional or idealized image. The goal was one - to make me go out of my way to prove that I was no worse than the mythical Peter.

It would seem that we have already considered two powerful tools of influence. But what if the manipulator strikes at the most sacred thing, memory, distorting the past in his favor? How not to fall into the trap of false debts. And here is a third strategy, subtle in its unfairness - a game of selective memory. They remember every favor they have done for you, but suddenly forget everything you have done for them.

This is the tactic of asymmetric emotional accounting. This is not just forgetfulness, it is a proven strategy. Machiavelli foresaw this trick, too, he said that he who keeps track of good deeds, in fact, collects ingratitude, and the levers are pressure. When someone emphasizes his generosity, but conveniently erases your efforts from memory, he creates an artificial imbalance in which you always feel indebted.

They say, “after everything I’ve done for you,” but they never mention the nights you stayed up for them, the money you lent, the calls you returned, the kindnesses you showed without asking for anything in return. Machiavelli warned, “Beware of those who keep emotional score cards, because to them, giving is not about love, it’s about leverage.” So why does this work, because you start to internalize this imbalance? You feel guilty asking for anything.

You overcompensate to pay off a debt that shouldn’t exist in the first place. How do you break free from the boundaries they set? You don’t owe anything for something that was given freely. You don’t have to live up to their memory, especially when it’s been edited for manipulation. And if someone uses their kindness as a weapon, it wasn’t kind to begin with.

Call it out quietly, just quietly. Say it. I didn’t think you kept score, and I didn’t. Then stop engaging. Gratitude is wonderful, but gratitude under duress is control dressed up as mercy, as Machiavelli taught. I watched as a woman I knew, Lyudmila, constantly reminded those around her of her sacrifices and help, while completely forgetting how much others did for her.

This created an aura around her that she was eternally indebted, and people, feeling obligated, followed her lead. I thought then, here it is, a skillful game of guilt worthy of the pen of Machiavelli himself. Lyudmila instinctively understood what he was writing about. The debt created is invisible chains. And this is only the beginning, because the last set of manipulation tactics, the ones that follow, are even more subtle, more disguised and far more dangerous.

They distort not only how you see others, they distort how you see yourself. And once you recognize them, you'll understand why you've put up with so much for so long. Let's end with this, but this is just the tip of the iceberg.

What other, more subtle, more hidden, more dangerous tactics exist that can distort not only your perception of others, but your very self? Are you ready to find out why you have tolerated so much for so long, without realizing the true motives of those who pulled the strings? Niccolo Machiavelli would have recognized this subtle game, called the “mirror of self-sabotage.” He said that a cunning person, having made a mistake, blames another, hiding behind an imaginary weakness.

They break agreements, disrupt important affairs, cross all permissible lines, and then present themselves as a victim of circumstances. I am so imperfect, you know my nature, I never claimed to be ideal. And then, as if by magic, the focus shifts. Instead of condemning their actions, their wounded soul begins to be comforted. Machiavelli taught that such demonstrative fragility is nothing more than a shield behind which a calculated power move is hidden.

It makes a person feel like a scoundrel simply for expecting elementary responsibility. True weakness, as the Florentine thinker noted, should not be confused with evasion of responsibility. A truly weak person can admit his mistake, but when someone turns every consequence of his actions into a heart-rending drama, he does not ask for forgiveness, he demands indulgence, without intending to change anything in his behavior.

Machiavelli foresaw that such tactics are disarming, because few will dare to finish off an apparently wounded animal. Hence the difficulty - they seem vulnerable, and you do not want to be known as heartless. So anger retreats, giving way to sympathy, and now you are not the one who deserves an apology, but a guardian, a nanny for someone else's infantilism.

Have you ever wondered why it is so easy to fall for this trick of imaginary weakness? And how often have you become an unwitting consoler, instead of receiving a well-deserved apology? I myself have often observed how a certain Vasily, an old acquaintance of mine, constantly let down colleagues, wrecked projects, but as soon as he was pointed out this, he immediately began to complain about his “difficult childhood” or recently experienced stress.

And all discussion of his irresponsibility ceased, and consolation and offers of help began. I thought then, what a skill worthy of Chiavelli’s pyramo – to make others pay for your mistakes, and even feel like benefactors. How can you resist this without turning into a cruel tyrant? Machiavelli would advise acting with clarity, but without excessive aggression.

It is possible to understand someone’s past without making excuses for their current behavior. Compassion is acceptable, but not at the cost of cleaning up someone else’s mess. And when their forgiveness is backed up by real action to fix the situation, fragility is no longer innocence but pure manipulation aimed at preserving the status quo. Hold them accountable for their words, not abruptly but consistently. That’s when, as Machiavelli said, the false mirror will shatter.

Then Machiavelli would draw our attention to another, no less insidious strategy: managed chaos. In the manipulator’s world, there is always an urgent problem, always a crisis – always something only you can fix. This tactic, as Machiavelli taught, thrives on a sense of urgency, turning your energy into their irreplaceable resource and your tension into their kind of dependency.

They cry out. “Can you just help me with this one thing. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re the only one who understands me.” And let's face it, at first it might even be nice to feel needed, to feel trusted, to be that "island of calm" in their eternal storm. However, Machiavelli foresaw that over time this storm never abates. This is "controlled chaos". A situation when someone unconsciously or, more likely, in the context of Machiavelli's teaching, quite deliberately creates instability, just to keep you on a short emotional leash.

Why does this work so effectively? Because you imperceptibly try on the role of a savior, and once you accept this role, it becomes incredibly difficult to refuse it. They teach you to identify imaginary love with unlimited responsibility, and support - with constant sacrifice of yourself and your interests.

Machiavelli warned against those who skillfully create dependence, deliberately drowning others in their disorder, and then miraculously pretend to be a victim when you, exhausted, stop saving them. Doesn't this scenario sound familiar to you, when someone's life turns into an endless drama that requires your immediate intervention? And how can you tell a sincere request for help from a skillfully created dependency? I remember how one of my friends, let's call her Maria, was constantly getting into some kind of trouble.

Either she would suddenly run out of money before an important trip, or she would urgently need help with moving on my busiest day, or she would be unfairly offended at work and would need my advice and consolation for hours on end. I thought I was showing friendly concern, but over time I realized that her life was a series of self-created crises, and I was the chief fireman on this eternal construction site of problems. And my advice, by the way, was never taken into account.

Machiavelli would chuckle – a classic example of using others’ resources to maintain their own comfort through drama. How do you recognize this trap? Their lives are constantly falling apart, but they never follow your sensible advice. They call you on the worst, busiest days, but mysteriously disappear when you need help. They need you until you start needing to set personal boundaries.

So how do you stop this vicious cycle? Machiavelli would approve of a decisive exit from their cycle, even if it causes temporary discomfort to both parties. You don’t abandon them, no, you refuse to allow them to tie their perpetual chaos to your peace. Say firmly, “I care about you, but I can’t carry this burden for you.” Then let the silence do what no amount of persuasion can.

The Florentine sage would then point to an even more subtle and poisonous tactic – the seed of devaluation. It penetrates the soul from beneath the will, beginning with something small – a casual comment, a fleeting glance, a question, artfully wrapped in a mask of concern. Are you absolutely sure you can handle this task? Be careful not to get your hopes up too high, lest you be disappointed later. I’m just worried about you, I don’t want you to suffer later.

On the surface, this sounds like a manifestation of care and concern, but Machiavelli taught us to see hidden motives. Under this layer of imaginary guardianship lies doubt, imperceptibly sown and daily watered with the poison of insecurity. This is the seed of devaluation, and it grows inside you like a silent but deadly poison. Why is this tactic so destructive? Machiavelli said that it attacks not your specific actions, but your very belief in your own strength.

She doesn't say "don't do it" outright, she whispers something much more insidious: "you're probably not good enough for it." The Florentine believed that the most effective and lasting control is not brute force that causes resistance, but skillful suggestion. Convince someone that they are small, insignificant and incapable, and they will build themselves a cage with their own hands from which they will not dare to escape.

This is the pinnacle of manipulation, when the victim becomes their own jailer. Have you ever encountered a situation where, under the guise of care, you were instilled with doubts about your own abilities? And how deeply can such seeds of devaluation grow if they are not recognized in time? I knew one man, Nikolai. A talented engineer, he dreamed of starting his own business. But his wife, Lyudmila, began to sigh at every mention of this idea.

“Kolenka, have you thought it all through? There are so many risks. What if it doesn’t work out? I’m so worried about you.” It seemed like concern, but after each conversation like this, I saw the fire in Nikolai’s eyes go out. I thought then that Machiavelli would have appreciated this strategy – not to forbid, but to gently undermine faith until there was no trace left of ambition. Over time, he really did shrink, giving up his dream, not because it was bad, but because he allowed someone else’s uncertainty to drown out his inner voice.

How can you regain your lost strength and break out of this invisible prison? Machiavelli would advise first of all to identify this alien voice and separate it from your own. Ask yourself, “Do I really think this?” or “Did someone once instill this in me?” Then turn this poisonous seed back.

Every time the traitorous thought “I don’t think I can do this” rises up inside you, consciously finish the sentence with “I can’t”, because someone once, perhaps even with good intentions, made me doubt myself. And then, no matter what, move forward, for their fears are not your future, and your inner greatness does not need their dubious permission to manifest. And now, thanks to the insight that Makeaveli bequeathed to us, these intricacies become obvious.

Imposed guilt, mirroring of other people’s vices, feigned frankness, constantly changing rules of the game, fabrication of endless crises, subtle and methodical sowing of doubt - all this is nothing more than sophisticated strategies designed to confuse, draw into their nets, suppress the will and “subjugate”. But now you know this secret language of manipulators.

You have seen it spoken, felt it twist your insides, and, most importantly, learned to remain strong in the face of these trials. Niccolo Machiavelli, contrary to popular belief, did not urge us to stop trusting people in general. He insisted that we begin to trust our own judgment, our ability to see the essence of things.

He taught us to look past the artfully crafted masks, to refuse to participate in the imposed spectacle, and above all, to stop giving away our precious freedom in exchange for fleeting approval or the illusion of calm. Machiavelli foresaw that knowledge is power, and that understanding the dark side of human nature is the key to self-preservation and independence.

I remember how I spent a long time trying to be nice to everyone, avoiding conflict, making concessions where I should have been firm, and each time I felt like I was being used, my energy was being diverted to solving other people’s problems, while my own goals were being sidelined. I thought I was being kind, but in reality I was allowing myself to be manipulated. Understanding these mechanisms, thanks in large part to thinkers like Machiavelli, was a real epiphany for me. It allowed me to build boundaries and begin to act in my own interests without feeling guilty.

So if you take one absolute truth from this deep analysis, let it be this: silence in the face of provocation is an act of strength. Clarity in intentions and words is a form of active resistance, clearly delineated. Personal boundaries are your birthright to liberation. You are no longer their puppet, not today, not ever.

And if these thoughts have resonated even a little in your soul, then you are already beginning to see what most people, unfortunately, never notice in the web of human relationships. Let me know in the comments which of these tactics, described by Machiavelli, you have encountered most often, and if this helped you see things more clearly, subscribe. Because we are only beginning to uncover these eternal secrets of power and influence. So

, we have walked through the dark halls where the ghosts of guilt hover and the distorted mirrors of other people's projections are reflected, where false vulnerability sets snares and the nooses of delay steal our time. We have learned to recognize the silent comparison that undermines confidence and the selective memory that rewrites the history of debt. We have exposed the mirror of self-sabotage, controlled chaos and the poisonous seeds of devaluation that seek to distort our inner landscape beyond recognition.

Nine circles of manipulation hell, each of which, as the insightful Machiavelli foresaw, serves one purpose – to subjugate someone else’s will, to redirect energy, to establish invisible control. But if you thought that this was the limit of sophistication, that the arsenal of dark arts had been exhausted, then get ready.

The deepest and most elusive shadows are only just beginning to thicken. We are entering a realm where manipulation becomes almost indistinguishable from the very fabric of existence, where it is woven into breathing, intonations, barely noticeable pauses, acquiring a truly diabolical power. Machiavelli, an expert on human passions and hidden motives, would undoubtedly have devoted a separate chapter of his Prince to what might be called the “fog of uncertainty” or, in modern parlance, the tactics of intermittent reinforcement.

It is not an obvious lie, not a crude pressure, it is something much more subtle and destructive. Imagine a game where the rules are constantly changing without warning, where what yesterday caused encouragement is met with icy silence today, and tomorrow again with unpredictable warmth. A manipulator who wields this art like a skilled conductor controls your emotions, sometimes drawing you closer with the promise of closeness and understanding, sometimes pushing you away with inexplicable coldness.

Today, he, the very embodiment of attention and care, showers you with compliments, shares intimate things, creating the illusion of a unique connection. You blossom, feel special, needed. And tomorrow he barely notices you, answers monosyllabically, immersed in his important affairs, and you are left perplexed, feverishly sorting through your words and actions in your mind.

What did I do wrong? How did I offend him? Machiavelli taught that there is nothing more effective for maintaining power than keeping subjects in a state of constant uncertainty, mixing mercy and severity. In interpersonal relationships, this principle works without fail. Periods of warmth serve as a powerful reinforcement, forcing you to cling to these rare moments like a drowning man to a straw.

They create an addiction, similar to gambling, where every win, no matter how rare, erases the memory of numerous losses and forces you to make a new bet. You begin to live in anticipation of the next “good day”, the next sign of attention, and in this anticipation you are ready to forgive a lot, make concessions, adapt, just to feel that sweet taste of acceptance again. The manipulator understands intuitively or consciously.

Constant kindness quickly becomes boring and ceases to be appreciated. But the alternation of warmth and cold, availability and detachment keeps the victim in constant tone, makes her try to “earn a good attitude”, look for reasons for change in herself, and not in his calculating game. I remember one of my acquaintances, let's call her Elena. Some days she was the life of the party, radiating friendliness, sharing her plans, genuinely interested in my affairs, and then she could go for weeks without responding, passing by with an absent look, as if we barely knew each other.

And every time her sun turned to me again, I felt relief and some irrational joy, forgetting about the periods of inexplicable alienation. I thought Machiavelli would applaud such a virtuoso play on contrasts. She did not demand anything directly, but her behavior forced me to constantly analyze, adjust, seek her approval.

It was draining, but it also created the illusion of some special, difficult connection. How to resist this fog? First of all, recognize the pattern itself. If someone’s attitude toward you resembles a roller coaster, where ups and euphoria alternate with falls into the abyss of bewilderment, this is an alarm signal. Machiavelli advised rulers to be predictable in their justice and even in their cruelty, because unpredictability breeds fear and instability.

In personal relationships, it is the same - healthy relationships are built on consistency and mutual respect, not on emotional swings. Stop looking for the cause in yourself. Stop trying to deserve a good relationship. Your value does not depend on someone else’s mood. Set your own standards for how you can and cannot be treated.

And if someone systematically plunges you into a fog of uncertainty, perhaps the most sober way out is to find a way out of this fog, even if at first it seems like the only source of light. For a light that goes out and then flares up at someone else's whim is not a beacon, a blazing flame leading into a quagmire. But if the fog of uncertainty keeps you on edge, then the next tactic, which Machiavelli would surely consider the pinnacle of manipulative art, strikes straight at the core of self-esteem, putting you on a pedestal only to delight in "pushing you into the abyss."

This is a cult of personality with subsequent devaluation, or, as it is also called, a cycle of idealization-devaluation. In the beginning, you are the center of the universe for this person. He admires your every word, every gesture. You are the smartest, the most talented, the most understanding, the most beautiful.

The list is endless. He showers you with compliments, gifts, not necessarily material, these can be signs of attention, deep conversations, promises, surrounds you with such intense adoration that your head spins. Machiavelli wrote about how important it is for a prince to win the love of his people, but here we are talking about creating an almost religious worship. This is the love bombing phase. You feel on top of the world, unique, chosen.

Your self-esteem soars. You begin to believe in this idealized version of yourself that he so skillfully presents to you. You become addicted to this admiration like a powerful drug. But as Machiavelli would have predicted, nothing lasts forever, especially if it is built on illusion. When the manipulator feels that you are completely absorbed, that your identity has begun to merge with the image he has created, the second, much more brutal phase begins: devaluation.

Suddenly, what was admired yesterday becomes the object of criticism today, or worse, ridicule. Your talents turn out to be not so outstanding. Your thoughts are banal, your appearance is far from ideal. Compliments are replaced by caustic remarks, admiration, contemptuous silence or irritation.

He starts comparing you with others, naturally not in your favor, picking on trifles, ignoring your needs, which he put first yesterday. Machiavelli understood that after a person has been given a taste of power or a high position, taking it away means inflicting a deep wound. The same thing happens here with self-esteem. You, accustomed to the role of a deity, are thrown off the pedestal. This causes shock, pain, confusion. You desperately try to return to that “golden time”, to double, triple your efforts to become worthy of his love and admiration again.

You blame yourself. “It was me who changed. I became worse. I disappointed him.” You are ready to do anything, just to stop this torment of devaluation and hear words of approval again. But, alas, as the Florentine sage would note, the manipulator’s goal has already been achieved. He completely controls your self-esteem, and therefore you.

He may now periodically return to the idealization phase for a short time to hook you again, but it will inevitably be followed by an even deeper devaluation. It is a hellish cycle, incredibly difficult to escape from, because it destroys your very ability to trust yourself and your perceptions. I recall the story of one of my colleagues, let's call him Igor.

He fell under the influence of a new boss, who at first extolled him to the skies, promised him mountains of gold, called him the main hope of the department. Igor flew on wings. But after a couple of months, the same boss began to publicly criticize his every idea, ridicule his reports, ignore him at meetings. I watched as Igor deflated, as he turned from a confident professional into a hunted person who doubted everything.

He began to work at night, trying to improve, but the more he tried, the more he was devalued. Machiavelli would say that the boss instinctively applied the classic pattern of first creating dependence through flattery, then asserting power through humiliation. The defense against this is, above all, a healthy skepticism towards excessive, undeserved, or too-quick admiration. If someone declares you the love of their life or a modern genius on the second day of meeting you, this is not a reason for joy, but for caution.

Stay in touch with your real self-esteem, do not allow it to depend entirely on someone else's opinion. Remember that true respect and love are built gradually, they see and accept not only your strengths but also your weaknesses, and do not need loud declarations. And if you find yourself in a cycle of devaluation, the most important step is to realize that the problem is not in you, but in the toxic dynamics created by the manipulator.

Breaking this cycle requires great courage, because it means giving up hope of returning to an ideal past that was, in fact, just Jingxing with a staged performance. But it is the only way to heal and restore your true self. And finally, we come to a tactic that is perhaps one of the most common and at the same time one of the most destructive in its everyday toxicity.

Machiavelli, the master of analyzing power based on fear and obligation, would certainly have paid special attention to it. It is emotional blackmail through the threat of loss. It is not always a direct threat, like “if you don’t do this, I will leave.”

More often, these are subtle hints, sighs, meaningful glances, creating an atmosphere in which you feel that your disagreement, your attempt to defend your boundaries, or simply your “no” will inevitably lead to a catastrophe, to a break in relations, to deep resentment, to deprivation of your love, friendship, support, or any other resource that the manipulator has made vital for you. I counted on you so much, and if you refuse now, I simply don’t know what I’ll do. Of course, do as you wish, but don’t be surprised, then, if I withdraw into myself, get sick, and won’t be able to communicate with you like before.

I thought we were a team. Close people, and you put your interests above our relations. These phrases, uttered with the right amount of tragedy or resentment, make you feel responsible not only for your actions, but also for the emotional, and sometimes physical, state of the other person. Machiavelli taught that fear is a more reliable foundation for power than love, because love can be ignored, but the fear of punishment cannot.

In this case, the punishment is the threat of rejection, loneliness, guilt for the suffering caused. This blackmail paralyzes the will. You are afraid of losing favor, afraid of conflict, afraid of being branded as bad, selfish, ungrateful. And you give in. First in small things, then in increasingly significant things.

You give up your needs, your values, your time, just to avoid the supposed catastrophe. The manipulator, seeing that the tactics work, uses them more and more often and more sophisticatedly. He instinctively probes your weak points, your fears and hits the target right on target. He creates a situation in which you constantly walk through a minefield, afraid to make a false step. Your life turns into an endless attempt to anticipate his desires and prevent his discontent.

An old friend of mine, let's call her Svetlana, was a master of this type of blackmail. Every attempt I made to spend an evening with other friends or pursue my hobbies was met with a quiet but palpable resentment. Well, of course, you're not interested in me. I understand, I'm boring. I guess I'll just stay home alone, like always. Although I never gave her a reason to think so, the guilt washed over me so strongly that I often cancelled my plans just so she wouldn't be upset.

I thought then that Machiavelli would have noted how skillfully she used unspoken obligations and fear of losing friendship to control my time and behavior. It was an invisible leash that was getting shorter. How to break free from these networks? First of all, you need to realize that you are not responsible for an adult's emotional reactions to your legal decisions and boundaries.

Empathy is wonderful, but it should not turn into a tool for your enslavement. Machiavelli advised the prince to be generous, but not to the point of draining the treasury and becoming dependent on others. The same is true in relationships. Your empathy and willingness to help should not lead to your emotional bankruptcy. Learn to say “no” without guilt.

It is your right. If someone threatens you with a breakup or suffering in response to your self-assertion, ask yourself whether you really need a relationship built on such a foundation. Sometimes, no matter how painful it is, allowing the manipulator to carry out their threat, if it is not a bluff, is the only way to free yourself, because true intimacy does not give ultimatums and does not punish for independence. It respects boundaries and rejoices in your integrity, rather than seeking to destroy it for its own comfort.

We have considered three more sophisticated tactics that complement the nine described earlier. The fog of uncertainty that creates dependence through emotional swings. The cult of personality with subsequent devaluation, destroying self-esteem. And emotional blackmail through the threat of loss, paralyzing the will with fear. Each of them, as Machiavelli predicted, is aimed at establishing control, at subordinating someone else's will, at extracting a resource, be it time, energy, emotions or self-awareness.

These 12 tactics are only the most obvious tips of the iceberg in the bottomless ocean of human interactions, where the desire for power and influence sometimes takes the most bizarre and disguised forms. Nicolo Machiavelli, studying the nature of power, revealed these mechanisms not in order to teach theatrics or paranoia.

No, its purpose, like the purpose of this journey of ours, is to give us knowledge. Knowledge that becomes armor. Knowledge that allows you to see through the fog of illusion and deception. I myself, like many, have gone through the experience when invisible threads of manipulation entangled me, forcing me to doubt myself, sacrifice my interests, feel eternally indebted or guilty. My attempts to be good and kind to everyone, to avoid conflicts at any cost, often resulted in me becoming a convenient tool in the hands of others.

The insight that came with understanding these hidden games, largely thanks to thinkers like Machiavelli, was like leaving a dark cave into bright light. It allowed me not only to recognize manipulation, but also to build healthy boundaries, learn to value myself and my time and, most importantly, stop being afraid of other people's disapproval.

Remember, your silence in response to provocation is not weakness, but the strength of a conscious choice not to enter into someone else's game. Your clarity in words and intentions is not aggression, but honesty with yourself and others. Your personal boundaries are not egoism, but a necessary condition for your mental health and self-preservation. You are no longer obliged to be a puppet, to be fixed and pulled by invisible puppeteers.

Knowing these tactics does not make the world safer, but it makes you stronger and more vigilant. It turns you from a passive object of manipulation into an active subject of your life, capable of making conscious choices. And if these revelations made you think, if you recognized situations from your life or the behavior of others in them, then the first and most important step to liberation has already been taken, you have begun to see.

And to see means to have a chance to change. The game goes on, it will never stop as long as human society exists. But now you know some of its unwritten rules. And perhaps the next time someone tries to hook you with guilt or plunge you into a fog of uncertainty, you won’t just recognize the trick, you’ll smile to yourself, remembering the wise Florentine, and calmly go your own way.

For, as Machiavelli would say, to be informed is to be armed. And this is only the beginning of your journey to true inner freedom and power. Share in the comments which of these latest, most subtle tactics you’ve experienced yourself, and how this knowledge changes your perception.

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