If you don't use people, they will use you - Niccolo Machiavelli

[Cloned Boy]

Do you think that kindness and loyalty are the most important things? You are cruelly mistaken. People love you not for who you are, but for what they get from you. And while you do not see it, you are being used. But what if Machiavelli himself told you how to change this? Are you ready to learn how to stop being a resource and start playing by your own rules? Then pay attention. Have you ever been told that the world is a place where kindness is rewarded and justice prevails?

That loyalty is sacred, and giving will certainly come back a hundredfold. What a beautiful, what a comforting, and what a grandiose lie, the greatest lie that has been so skillfully “foisted” on us, as the sage whose name has become synonymous with political insight would say - Niccolo Machiavelli. He, like no one else, saw the true nature of things and warned - if you are not using people, rest assured that you are already being used.

And the scary thing is, you won't even notice until it's too, too late. People don't love you for who you are, for the unique essence of you. They love you for what you give them, for the benefit you bring them. You give them your precious attention when they're lonely. You give them comfort when they're uncomfortable. You give them recognition when their ego is crying out for praise. You give them your resources, your unwavering loyalty, your boundless energy, your irreplaceable time, and in return.

Most of them will give you far less than they took. Some will give you nothing at all, not a drop, but they will smile in your face, they will shower you with gratitude, they will tell you how much they appreciate you. And all this because until you wake up to the truth, they can continue to drink from your cup, never, do you hear me, never refilling it.

Machiavelli essentially holds out a mirror to us that reflects not how we want people to be, but how they really are when it comes to personal gain. I have personally seen more than once how the most seemingly altruistic gestures turned out to be just a prelude to a request, or how selfless friendships ended exactly at the moment when the flow of my resources, be it time, connections, or downtime, dried up.

Human participation. This is not cynicism, it is a sober look at the mechanics of human interactions, which Machiavelli described with surgical precision. He taught us to see not the facade, but the underbelly. But how can we recognize this subtle game before it draws you into its nets? And what if Machiavelli was right not only in theory, but in every detail of our everyday life? It is a mistake to think that Machiavelli hated people - not at all. He understood them, like few others, to the very depths of their motives.

He wasn't telling us to hate the world and paint everything in black. He was teaching us to stop pretending that the world is a fair and predictable place where good always wins. Because once you see the true rules of the game, you can start playing it consciously, before you lose by default, without even realizing the game has even begun. Those who explain their actions too much, looking for approval.

Those who forgive too easily, allowing others to take advantage of them. Those who offer their help too generously, asking for nothing in return. And those who linger too long in places where they are not appreciated, they are the ones who become victims, the ones who are drained to the last drop, mercilessly replaced by a fresher resource, or simply written off as spent material.

Why is this? Because they naively assume that others think the same way they do. They think that if I am loyal, they will be loyal, if I help from the heart, they will certainly repay in kind. If I stay by their side in difficult times, they will appreciate it and remember it. But the cruel truth that Machiavelli revealed to us is that people do not mirror your kindness, they mirror what is advantageous to them at that particular moment.

And if using you brings them advantage, they will do it again and again until you decisively stop them. This is exactly what Machiavelli wrote with ruthless precision: “Human nature is immutable, and its main engine is self-interest.” I myself have been through this, when, time after time, I extended a helping hand, expecting at least basic gratitude, and received only more requests.

It was like trying to fill a bottomless barrel. Machiavelli teaches us not to expect gratitude, but to soberly assess the give-and-take balance, he does not call for malice, he calls for wisdom and strategic thinking in relationships. So is the only way out to become as calculating and cold as those he described? Or is there a way to preserve humanity without becoming an eternal victim.

Machiavelli understood one fundamental truth better than almost all of his contemporaries and followers. You do not become strong by giving everything indiscriminately, wasting yourself on everyone you meet. You become strong when you begin to consciously decide who, what, when and in what volume receives from you. You must learn to control access to your resources. You must make your value scarce, not a public good. You must treat your time, your attention, your energy, as a real currency, because, believe me, this is exactly what everyone else around you is already doing.

You just haven't noticed it yet, blinded by the illusion of universal goodness. Let's be honest. The moment someone realizes that they can have your unwavering loyalty without any effort on their part, your forgiveness without any real change in their behavior, your boundless energy without any cost or investment, they will do it.

And not because they are evil, but because convenience, ease, and accessibility are incredibly addictive. And you, you are the most convenient person they have ever met. Unless, unless, you start using them first, playing by their rules. That sounds provocative, doesn't it? Using first. But Machiavelli is not talking about malicious manipulation here, he is talking about strategic interaction.

He is saying, understand the value of what you give, and don't throw it away. I recall situations when my time and advice were taken for granted until I started dosing my availability. And suddenly the attitude changed, people began to value what was no longer free and unlimited. Machiavelli teaches us to be strategists of our lives, not passive donors.

But how can we learn this control without becoming paranoid, seeing everyone as a potential exploiter, and where is the line beyond which strategic behavior turns into cynicism. You were taught from childhood that using people is wrong, it is unethical. But here is what you were not taught, what was kept silent about. Everyone uses everyone, one way or another. The only question is whether this happens consciously or unconsciously, with benefit for one side or for both.

If you give your value uncontrollably, as if from a cornucopia, you will inevitably be depleted. If you give access to yourself indiscriminately, everyone who asks for you will sooner or later be replaced by someone fresher or more convenient. But if you are clear about what people want from you, if you control how and when you give it, if you move from one-sided giving to mutually beneficial exchange, and if you do not hesitate to cut off the connection the moment they stop reciprocating, showing respect, or investing in the relationship.

Now you are not being used. Now you are being used, but you are being used consciously, strategically, intelligently, for the benefit of yourself and those who truly deserve it. And Machiavelli would undoubtedly say that this is the only way not only to survive in this world, but to preserve your power, your integrity, and your resources. This is not a call to war of all against all, but a call to awareness.

Machiavelli, if he were alive today, might have said, “Don’t be a naive philanthropist when everyone around you is a pragmatic investor.” I often see people with enormous potential squandering it on those who don’t appreciate it at all, and then wondering why their lives aren’t working out. Machiavelli suggests taking the helm into your own hands, becoming the captain of your own ship, and not a chip in the ocean of other people’s interests.

But what if you’re already stuck in such a relationship, if the realization comes too late? And how do you distinguish those who really need help from those who are simply parasitizing on your kindness? You don’t wake up one morning with a clear understanding that “I’m being used.” Oh no, it happens slowly, almost imperceptibly, quietly, accompanied by sweet smiles, routine “thank yous,” and endless convincing excuses.

By the time you feel a deep inner exhaustion, you’ve already paid an exorbitant price. That is why Machiavelli did not await betrayal with fatalistic resignation. He trained himself and taught others to notice the very first, subtlest signs of an approaching storm at an early stage. Because in his world, which is essentially not so different from yours, the only people who are not used are those who have a keen sense of when this invisible game is just beginning.

You have not heard from them for several days, maybe even weeks. But at that very moment, when they desperately need your wise advice, your emotional support, some favor or just an opportunity to dump negativity, splash out their problems, they immediately remember your name, your phone number. They are not interested in your affairs, your successes or difficulties.

They do not ask how you are doing, how you feel. They do not even try to pretend that they care, because to them you are not a person, not a friend, you are a resource. Convenient, reliable, always on hand. And at the very moment when you stop being useful, when your resource is exhausted or you simply refuse to provide it, they also suddenly stop appearing in your life, disappear from the radar. Machiavelli seems to be telling us here, develop the observation skills of a courtier who guesses the monarch’s intentions by the slightest changes in his behavior.

This is not paranoia, this is necessary vigilance. How many times have I ignored these red flags, writing it off as chance or someone else’s bad mood, and then kicked myself when the situation unfolded according to the worst scenario. Machiavelli teaches us to trust our intuition, backed up by observation.

What are those first, subtle signs to look out for so you don’t get trapped? And how can you learn to speak in a way that doesn’t destroy your relationship, but rather strengthens your boundaries? These are the same people who believe that you should always be available 24/7. You should immediately respond to their messages and calls, and you should continue to give, give, give, even when they give absolutely nothing in return, not even basic gratitude.

They treat your precious time and your life energy like an unlimited subscription that they have never paid for and are not going to pay for. And when you finally start to distance yourself, set boundaries, protect your resources, they don’t think about the reasons for your behavior, they don’t analyze their contribution. They are genuinely offended, indignant, accusing you of selfishness. Why? Because they have never had a real relationship with you as a person.

They had a relationship with what you offered them, with the benefits they got from you. And now that that source of benefits is taken away, they act as if you were the villain, the traitor, the one who broke the unspoken contract. Machiavelli would call it a parasitic relationship, built not on mutual loyalty and respect, but on a one-sided, infantile sense of “I’m entitled.” You say “no,” you need time for yourself, you don’t agree with their demands.

You stop overextending yourself for them, sacrificing yourself, and suddenly you hear “you’ve changed so much, you’ve become so cold, so distant, I thought you cared about me.” It’s classic emotional blackmail, cleverly disguised as constructive feedback. Because the very moment you start to become less useful, less convenient, they start making you feel wrong, guilty for daring to defend yourself.

But remember the golden rule, which Machiavelli would have confirmed, only consumers fear your boundaries. Real, mature people respect and value them. And here Machiavelli gives us the key, boundaries. They are not walls, they are signs for others how to treat you and how not to treat you. I remember how hard it was for me to say no for the first time to someone from whom I had come to expect approval. But after that, I felt not guilt, but a surge of strength and self-esteem.

It was a lesson that Machiavelli would have taught with fatherly sternness. “Value yourself, otherwise no one else will.” But what if this consumer is a loved one, a family member, or an old friend? Are there strategies for such difficult cases? Or would Machiavelli advise to cut from the hip? Every time they make a mistake, you are there to lend a shoulder.

Every time they fall, you catch them, not letting them hurt themselves. Every time they complain about life, about the unfairness of the world, about other people, you listen carefully, empathize, give advice. And what do they do with all this endless help, with all this support? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

With a tenacity worthy of better use, they repeat the same destructive cycles, make the same mistakes over and over again, exhaust you with the same endless stories and complaints, because they are not here to grow, to change. They are here to be carried, to have you solve their problems while they comfortably float with the flow. And as long as you continue to carry them, they will never, do you hear me, never have to stand on their own feet, take responsibility for their own lives.

Pay close attention when they praise you. When they tell you how wonderful you are, how irreplaceable, how great you are. Usually it's right after you've sacrificed something significant for them, your precious time, your carefully laid plans, your personal boundaries, your peace of mind. That's when they applaud you. That's when they value you.

But not for who you really are, but for what you're willing to lose, what you're willing to sacrifice, to make them feel good and comfortable. That's not love, my friends. That's the cult of utility, and that's how skilled users keep responsive givers on a very short leash. But here's the huge difference now, now you see it.

And Niccolo Machiavelli, that astute observer of human nature, would tell you that once you see the truth of the matter, you must act immediately, or you will suffer for the rest of your life, knowing that you allowed this to happen. Machiavelli would not be an advocate of endless rescuing; he would say, “By helping someone who will not help himself, you only prolong his agony and your own. It is a harsh truth, but it is liberating.” I have seen people drag others down for years, hoping for change, and end up empty.

Machiavelli teaches us to invest our resources wisely, in those who are capable of growth and reciprocity, not in those who see us as mere means to their own comfort. So what is the first step to action once you have recognized this dynamic? And how do you stop being a convenience without losing your humanity and capacity for compassion? Here is the good news, a ray of light in this seemingly impenetrable realm of human interaction.

You don’t have to become a heartless manipulator, the very monster you despise so much. You don’t have to dress yourself in the armor of cruelty and cynicism. You just have to make one, but cardinal maneuver – turn the game around. Make a transition from a state where you were unconsciously and methodically used, to a state where you consciously and strategically use yourself, but in the name of your own integrity and growth.

Think about it, for most of your life, you most likely played exclusively on the defensive. Desperately protecting your vulnerable feelings, trying to preserve the crumbs of your inner peace, naively hoping that those around you will finally appreciate what you so generously give them. But the great Niccolo Machiavelli, a master of political intrigue and an expert on human souls, never played on the defensive.

He did not passively wait to be used. He played people, he masterfully positioned himself as someone who is capable of using circumstances and people to his advantage, without being accused of treachery or malice. And this part is your personal, existential transition from the role of an eternally depleted resource to the role of someone who decides who, what, when and why gets from your hands. Machiavelli essentially suggests that we change our optics, stop being the object of other people's strategies and become the subject of our own.

I myself remember how I lived in constant tension for many years, trying to anticipate other people's reactions, to please, not to offend, and in the end I felt like a squeezed lemon. Only when I began to apply principles similar to Machiavelli's, not in the sense of deception, but in the sense of a clear understanding of my interests and boundaries, did I feel my strength and respect returning to me, first of all, self-respect.

This is not about becoming a wolf in sheep's clothing, but about stopping being a sheep among wolves. But how to make this transition without losing empathy and without turning into a calculating machine? And was Machiavelli really calling for the exploitation of people, or is there a deeper defense mechanism hidden in his words? We must face a bitter but liberating truth.

Not all relationships we enter into are based on pure reciprocity and selflessness. Most of them, if you look closely, are cleverly disguised transactions, in which each person pursues his or her own, sometimes unconscious, interests. You give them your precious time, they in return give you a fleeting distraction from your own concerns. You offer them your unwavering loyalty, they provide you with the illusion of convenience and predictability.

You envelop them with your emotional security, and in return they often demonstrate excessive constancy and capriciousness. And the more balanced this “deal” seems at first glance, the easier it is, alas, to miss the hidden but destructive imbalance. A perceptive Machiavelli, looking at any of your relationships, be it friendship, love or business partnership, would immediately ask two key questions.

What do they really want from me? And what do I, in turn, get in return, what is my benefit? And if the answer to the second question is nothing significant or much less than I invest, he would, without a shadow of a doubt, turn around and leave. Without unnecessary drama, without painful explanations and introspection. Because voluntary imbalance is not a virtue, as they try to convince us, but a conscious or unconscious choice in favor of self-destruction. This is where most people suffer a crushing fiasco.

They keep giving because it's the right thing to do, because it's the accepted thing to do. Because they really need it, because they're suffering so much. Because they've been through this before, and I have to help. Or worse, because I'm just the kind of person I am, I can't do otherwise. And that's okay, it even commands respect, but only until you burn out, until you're used up to the last drop, or until you lose yourself completely in service to someone else's interests? Machiavelli didn't believe in pure, distilled selflessness.

He believed in calculated, strategic generosity. He would have asked himself, what is this action building in my life, what value is it creating? What is it ultimately costing me, not just materially, but emotionally, energetically? Will they grow thanks to my help? Or will I just become a convenient crutch for them, preventing them from learning to walk on their own.

And if the answer to these questions did not serve his long-term strategy, he would not give his global goals. Not because of innate coldness or callousness of soul, but because of crystal clarity of mind and understanding of the law in life. Because as soon as your value, your resources become a strategic asset, you never feel painful regret about what you have done, you see only the specific results of your actions.

This Machiavelli approach is not cynicism, but the highest form of pragmatism aimed at self-preservation and development. For a long time, I myself was guided by the slogan "do good and throw it into the water", until I realized that my water turned into a swamp, where my own strength and ambitions were drowning. Analysis of what I give and what I receive, according to Machiavelli, helped me sober up and start building healthier and, oddly enough, more honest relationships.

This is not about demanding payment for every breath, but about not allowing what is dear to you to be devalued. But won’t such an analysis lead to total mistrust and searching for a catch in every human gesture? And how to distinguish a healthy deal from a toxic imbalance before it’s too late? Remember once and for all, not everyone you meet should have unlimited access to your priceless energy. It is

vitally important for you to build reliable filters, a kind of intellectual and emotional cordons around your time and your presence. And each person who claims a place in your life must tacitly pass through these filters, answering a number of key questions that you will ask yourself.

For example, do they grow as individuals when I help them, or do they simply become more and more dependent on my support, turning into eternal supplicants? Do they provide any tangible value in return, be it support, respect, new knowledge, or do they just take-take-take, and then appear again only when they need even more. Have they ever helped me on their own initiative, without my direct request, or has their help always been just a response to my gestures. Does their condition, their life improve after access to me, or do they inevitably collapse as soon as I move away a little, demonstrating their unviability without my nourishment.

Anyone who does not pass these invisible filters, who does not meet your new criteria, you are not obliged to immediately and demonstratively break off all ties with them, burning bridges. You simply change their position in your coordinate system. They smoothly move from the category of "priority" to "background", from your main, close circle of communication to the category of distant episodic contacts, from the status of "partner" or "close friend" to the status of "casual interaction".

You don't burn the bridge, you just raise the toll. This may sound a bit grim, even cynical, but, frankly, this is how our world is already and always has been. People instinctively respect what they have to earn, what they have to invest in, and they instinctively forget and devalue what they get too easily, without effort.

Machiavelli is essentially teaching us to be selective investors of our most valuable capital - time and energy. This is not about arrogance, but about wise allocation of resources. I myself have applied this system of filters and shifts. At first it was awkward, it seemed that I was becoming somehow calculating, but the result amazed me. Those who truly valued me, and not my usefulness, stayed and even began to show more respect.

And those who were just consumers, dropped out on their own, freeing up space for higher-quality connections. How can these filters be implemented in everyday life without turning every communication into an interrogation? And what if the person who did not pass the filter is very close? So, you gradually but steadily stop giving your precious time to people who are obviously wasting theirs and yours, pouring from empty to empty.

You limit access to yourself to those who do not become better from this access, do not develop, but only get deeper into their problems. You stop giving wise advice to people who never put it into practice, but only collect opinions. And most importantly, you stop giving your boundless loyalty to those who have never proven it in any way, who take it for granted.

Now you do not just give, you exchange, you enter into a conscious exchange, your internal position changes. I will help you with this specific task if you show me this, or do this for me. I will give you moral support if I see that you are really going to finish what you started, and not just looking for a shoulder to cry on. Yes, you can have my time, but only if it fits my personal schedule and my priorities, and not just your desires.

Do you want my consistency, my stable support? Show me your real effort, your willingness to invest. You don’t necessarily say all this out loud, putting people to the test, you just start acting this way, changing your behavior. And people either instinctively adapt to the new rules of the game, begin to value your contribution and reciprocate, or ... or they just leave your life, unable to withstand the change in balance.

And the point here is not at all that you become some kind of fake, two-faced or calculating. The point is that you become deeply aware. You begin to study their true character, not the facade they show you. You delicately but persistently test their loyalty not in words but in deeds. You carefully observe how they act, how they react when you stop giving them what they are used to.

And based on what you have seen, based on these objective facts, you make a balanced decision about how exactly they stay in your life, or whether they stay in it at all. And this decision is not made under the influence of fleeting emotions, not because of nostalgia for the past or a sense of duty, it is made solely for the sake of a long-term strategy for your own well-being.

Because those who are not used strategically, wisely and calculatedly will inevitably be used carelessly, casually, and the great Machiavelli, if he were your advisor, would never allow this to happen to you. This is exactly what Machiavelli wrote about in The Prince, only not in relation to governing a state, but in relation to governing your own life. He taught us to see people as they are, not as we want them to be.

And I have seen this for myself. When you stop being obliging and start valuing your resources, the world around you changes. Some people drop out, but those who remain are truly valuable connections. This is not about cruelty, it is about self-respect. But isn’t this approach too selfish? And aren’t we at risk of missing out on real, sincere relationships based on selflessness by building such strategies?

Let’s face it, without illusions and self-deception, you are already using people. Yes, yes, that’s right. Every time you reach out to someone for help, ask for assistance, seek out connections, crave attention or approval, you are, in essence, extracting value from them. The problem is not the act of using them; that is a natural part of human interaction.

The problem is that most of us do not know how to do it strategically, intelligently, without guilt, without hurting others, and, importantly, without getting caught, without making ourselves look bad. Machiavelli did not shy away from the idea of using people; he almost perfected it, turning it into an art. Because true power, as he understood it, is the inability to do everything yourself, to the point of exhaustion.

True power is the ability to position yourself in such a way, to build relationships in such a way that other people will willingly, sometimes even enthusiastically, do what is ultimately beneficial to you. And there is nothing shameful about this, if your goals do not cause harm, and if the exchange of values occurs, if not always equally, then at least with mutual understanding and respect. This is the basis of what can be called ethical power, power based on the understanding of human nature, and not on its suppression.

Machiavelli, in essence, legalizes what is happening anyway, but suggests doing it consciously and to your advantage, and not to your detriment. This is not about becoming a puppeteer pulling the strings. This is about becoming a skillful conductor of your life orchestra, where each instrument plays its part, creating harmony that is primarily beneficial to you, as the creator of this harmony.

I myself, when I realized this principle, stopped feeling guilty for asking for something or for pursuing my goals using the resources and talents of others. After all, I am ready to share mine, but on the conditions of mutual respect and clear understanding. The values of this exchange are, in my opinion, the path to true strength and independence, which Machiavelli spoke so much about. Let them feel useful, even indispensable for a moment, but never, do you hear, never let them feel absolutely indispensable to your existence.

This is the subtlest art that Machiavelli would teach us. When people feel useful, they engage with enthusiasm. They offer their ideas, their resources, their help. They take on obligations, sometimes even beyond what is asked of them.

But at that treacherous moment, when they believe that without them your stability, your success, your very existence, will collapse, that is when they will begin to bargain against you, putting forward their terms, demanding more and more. A wise Machiavelli would no doubt praise their usefulness, generously reward their initiative and openly acknowledge their efforts, but not by a single hint, not by a single gesture would he imply his total dependence on them.

He would skillfully create an illusion. You are incredibly valuable to me, your contribution is invaluable, but never, under any circumstances, I am desperately in you simply to function, without you I am nothing. A huge, colossal difference, isn’t it? It is this finely constructed illusion that keeps them in constant motion, striving to be useful, and you, at the helm, in control of the situation. Remember, most people do not help you out of some deep, ardent loyalty to you as a person.

They help you for their own importance, for the satisfaction of their ego. They want to feel smart, needed, in demand, one step ahead of others, those who are not so lucky to be involved in your affairs. And Machiavelli masterfully played on this human string, for example, by asking for advice on matters that he did not really need, but thereby elevating the adviser in his own eyes.

He masterfully delegated tasks, giving them a special emotional coloring. "I trust this delicate matter only to you, because I know your competence." And thus made people feel chosen, superior to others, deeply involved in something important, and all this, carefully keeping his real strategy, his true goals, a deep secret. He did not manipulate in the crude sense of the word.

He skillfully directed other people's egos, because he understood perfectly well that when someone sincerely thinks that your victory is also his personal victory, he will help you build your empire with double energy, even if he is never destined to sit on the throne. Machiavelli shows us here the highest level of the psychology of influence - not to force, but to involve, making other people's ambitions fuel for your own goals. I myself have applied this principle of controlled ego more than once.

For example, when I asked colleagues for expert opinions on issues that I myself understood quite well, but in this way I received not only information, but also their loyalty, their desire to be involved in my success. This is not a deception, this is an understanding of what drives people, and the use of this knowledge for the benefit of a common cause, but strategically directed by you.

But how can you learn to balance so subtly between creating a sense of usefulness and preventing a feeling of indispensability? And won't such a direction of the ego turn into a cynical game, where sincerity is completely absent. The golden rule from Machiavelli - never ask for favors without having some leverage, some ace up your sleeve. And, more importantly, never find yourself in a position where someone helps you just like that, out of pure, unclouded kindness of heart.

Why? Because the generosity of an unclear, tangible exchange, of incomprehensible reciprocity, almost always, sooner or later, turns into either a hidden resentment on the part of the benefactor, or a powerful lever of pressure on you in the future. Instead, if they themselves offer you help, do not rush to happily agree, but politely but persistently ask how you can repay them for their kindness, how you can be of use to them.

If you yourself desperately need help, do not ask for it into the void, but immediately tie your request to some future exchange, to a specific reciprocal gesture on your part. If you feel that you owe someone something, do not put it in the debt box, but quickly and fully repay this debt. You need clean, transparent, completed exchanges, not tangled balls of emotional debts and unpaid bills. Because all these unpaid services, all these debts of gratitude are real time bombs, planted under the foundation of your power structure, your independence.

And Machiavelli, being a master of strategy, avoided them like poison, like the plague. This is one of the most difficult, but also most important lessons of Machiavelli - the purity of transactions. I remember once doing a significant favor for a person without stipulating the price or the reciprocal gesture.

Subsequently, this man reminded me more than once of his selfless help, trying to manipulate my sense of duty. Since then, I always try to either immediately offer something in exchange, or clearly indicate that this is a one-time help, not implying further obligations. Machiavelli teaches us not to be ungrateful, but to be extremely clear in expectations. But what about sincere friendship or love, where, it would seem, there is no place for such pure exchanges? Will not such an approach destroy the warmest human connections? To use people for your own interests? Yes, Machiavelli would not deny it.

But to use them repeatedly, systematically, without any significant return on your part - never, for nothing. Why? Because excessive, one-sided use inevitably leads to the other party realizing this fact. Even the most helpful, the most altruistic people sooner or later begin to feel used, when they become the only one who is constantly asked for help, who is always carrying the burden of other people's problems.

To avoid this unpleasant moment and maintain control, Machiavelli would advise skillfully distributing your requests among different people, not burdening the same person constantly. Vary those who are responsible for carrying out your instructions. Make your requests as light and unburdensome as possible, unless the person has proven his exceptional loyalty and devotion to you in deeds, not words.

Such tactics preserve their good will towards you, maintain an aura of some mystery around your true needs and, most importantly, allow you to maintain control over the situation. Because the more someone sees how much he gives to you, the sooner he will ask an uncomfortable question. What are you hiding, why don't you yourself and is he just a convenient tool.

It is here, in this subtle way, that Machiavelli sets himself apart from the average, crude manipulator. When used correctly, a person walks away feeling appreciated, valued, not drained and cheated. You want them to feel like they have grown by helping you, like they have become sharper, smarter, stronger, more useful because of this association, like their own status and position have been invisibly elevated by their association with you.

That way, even if they are objectively being used, they themselves do not want the interaction to end, they find their benefit, their satisfaction in it. And that is how you build long-term, sustainable leverage. Because when someone gets something of value from being used, you never have to ask them twice.

It is the ultimate skill to make people do what you want them to do, feeling that it is their own choice and their own benefit. Machiavelli would have been a master of this – voluntary exploitation. I try to follow this principle myself. When asking for help, I always emphasize what experience or what new opportunities it will give the person, how it will affect their reputation or skills.

And it works much more effectively than a simple “do it for me”. But isn’t this still a form of deception, albeit a subtle one? And where is the line beyond which strategic exploitation turns into unethical manipulation, even if the person feels appreciated? You may feel a twinge of conscience because you have been brought up since childhood on the beautiful, but often unviable illusion of equal efforts, universal fairness and selfless mutual assistance.

But Machiavelli, that sober realist, knew very well that people serve leaders, strong personalities, not because of abstract justice or equality. They serve them either because they have a deep faith in their ideas, in their charisma, in their ability to lead to success, or because they fear their power, their influence, their ability to punish. So you don’t have to stop using people completely – that’s a utopia.

You have to learn to use them in a way that doesn’t destroy precious trust, doesn’t arouse unnecessary suspicions, but on the contrary, makes them feel like your allies, your comrades-in-arms, even if objectively they were instruments in your hands to achieve your goals. And once you have mastered this subtle art to perfection, you will become virtually invulnerable, because no one will be able to accuse you of exploitation if they themselves felt that they derived their tangible benefit, their profit, from this interaction.

Machiavelli is not calling for tyranny or deceit, he is calling for an understanding of motives. If people see in working with you a way to realize their ambitions, to satisfy their needs, to be recognized, to grow, to be safe, they will be your loyal helpers.

I learned this when I stopped asking for unselfish help and started offering joint projects where the benefits were mutual, even if not always equal. This changes the whole dynamic of the relationship. But what if a person is truly unselfish? Do we risk alienating truly loyal people who see us as more than just a leader or a source of profit? There is a sharp fundamental difference between being truly valuable to others and being ruthlessly exploited.

But most people, unfortunately, blur this critical line themselves, and it costs them dearly, sometimes with everything they have – time, energy, peace of mind, self-esteem. They give too much, without measuring their resources against the return. They say “yes” too quickly and too often to any request, afraid of seeming unresponsive or selfish.

They build their reputation on their unfailing willingness to help anyone and everyone, and end up resenting all those they have helped so generously, feeling undervalued and used. The wise Machiavelli would never have allowed himself to find himself in such a humiliating and counterproductive situation.

He knew how to remain useful without becoming someone’s dispossessed property, how to give just enough to keep others close to his orbit of influence, but never enough to be taken for granted. Let's look at how exactly this can be done without losing face and power. First and foremost, understand that being useful is not a sign of weakness, as many people think. It is a powerful strategic positioning.

If you know something important that others do not know, if you offer something valuable that others really need, or if you can solve complex problems that others cannot solve, you automatically become an integral, key part of their plans, their ambitions, their future. But only if you have complete control over how, when, on what terms and why you provide this value.

The moment your value ceases to be something to be earned and becomes something expected, self-evident, you instantly lose all your leverage. So your job is to remain useful without becoming easy prey that can be taken with bare hands. Feel the difference. A servant obediently awaits orders and instructions. A valuable resource offers specific results, but on its own clearly defined terms.

This is where the fundamental difference in approach lies. A servant asks. What can I do for you, my lord? A resource states. Here is what I can offer, and here is how it can serve both of us if we agree. You see, this is a subtle but fundamental shift in positioning. A servant begs for directions, demonstrating his dependence. A resource sets the framework for the interaction, emphasizing his independence and value.

Niccolo Machiavelli would never offer his influence, his unique connections, or his brilliant insight for free to anyone he met. He would bide his time, carefully observe the situation and the players, and then, at the most opportune moment, provide something truly powerful, something that made him absolutely indispensable in that particular situation.

This is how you stop being used all the time, you don’t refuse to help at all, you radically redefine what your help looks like and under what conditions it is provided. Machiavelli teaches us to be not just useful, but strategically useful. This means knowing your value and being able to sell it at the right moment. I remember how, early in my career, I gave away my ideas left and right, hoping for recognition. Recognition came, but not to me, but to those who implemented these ideas.

When I began to package my ideas, offering them as part of a larger project in which my role was key, the situation changed. I became not just a generator of ideas, but a valuable resource. But how do you learn this selective availability and the ability to say “no” without ruining relationships or becoming known as selfish? And what to do if your usefulness is tied to your main job, where saying no can have negative consequences.

If you always say “yes” to everyone, you subtly but surely teach people to expect this from you by default. And very soon your precious time is devalued in their eyes. Your titanic efforts become a familiar background noise that they stop noticing. And worst of all, they even stop thanking you, taking your help for granted. Machiavelli knew this law of human psychology very well.

Excessive availability kills any mystery, any interest. And it is precisely mystery, some unpredictability - this is what makes people more calculating, more attentive and respectful in your presence. So, you must begin to intentionally, consciously delay your responses to certain requests, making it clear that your time is valuable. You must learn to say a firm no without a gnawing sense of guilt, without long apologies and justifications.

You must establish visible clear boundaries of your personal space, your resources, your time, and calmly but steadily strengthen them with each attempt to violate them. You do not need to be rude or aggressive. You just have to be selectively available, like a rare and valuable resource. And the moment someone realizes that they can’t easily predict your next “yes,” they will instinctively begin to deserve that “yes,” to make an effort to get it.

It’s not about being hard to get, it’s about increasing the value of your “yes.” Machiavelli understood that scarcity creates demand. I used to be afraid to say no, for fear of ruining relationships. But when I started practicing selective “yes,” I was surprised to find that people began to value my time and my help more.

It turns out that respect often comes not through being willing to do something, but through the ability to set boundaries. But what to do with the inner desire to help, with empathy? Doesn't this approach contradict our human nature, our desire to be kind and responsive? Helpful, overly kind people often give, give in a desperate, sometimes unconscious, hope to be noticed, appreciated, loved. I did this for you, now you will definitely appreciate and respect me.

I was there in a difficult moment, now they will definitely protect me, if anything. I helped so much, now they will choose me, prefer me to others. But this, alas, is nothing more than an emotional lottery, where the chances of winning are negligible. You give generously, secretly hoping that they will return to you what they never openly agreed to, what you did not agree with them on. Machiavelli, this pragmatist to the core, never relied on empty hopes.

He exchanged a specific value for a lasting alliance, real effort for tangible access to resources, his time for effective leverage. This means that every time you give something, you do it with a clear internal agreement, with a clear understanding of your benefit. I give this because it somehow advances my piece on the chessboard of life, it strengthens my position, it serves my long-term goals.

And if there is no such understanding, if giving does not bring you any strategic benefit, you simply do not give. And the point is, when you have been too long, too selflessly, too useful, people, alas, forget the true cost of your possible loss. They get used to your presence, to your reliability, like air. So, do not announce your accumulated disappointment to everyone. It is useless.

Do not foam at the mouth for belated gratitude. It will not come. Do not threaten a loud exit. This will only show your weakness. Instead, just quietly, almost imperceptibly, withdraw. Stop giving what you used to give. Stop trying to fix other people’s mistakes at your own expense. Stop showing that lively interest that was once your calling card, and just watch. Watch how quickly they suddenly panic, how they start frantically counting their gains and losses, and how suddenly, as if by magic, they remember your true value.

The great Niccolo Machiavelli did not teach through direct, exhausting confrontation, which rarely leads to the desired result. He taught through strategically calculated distance, because people, by nature, do not value constant presence until it becomes a tangible, painful deficit.

This lesson from Machiavelli is one of the most powerful and perhaps most underrated. I have seen for myself that loud reproaches and demands only cause irritation and defensiveness. But a silent reduction in the supply of what was previously in abundance, attention, time of help, makes people think much more effectively. It is like a rare commodity - the less of it, the more valuable it is. Machiavelli knew a lot about the economics of influence.

But how do you survive this withdrawal from the usual giving, especially if you are a giver by nature? And will such a withdrawal not be considered a manifestation of resentment or weakness, and not a strategic move? This is perhaps the most difficult test for natural givers, you are used to giving more than you are paid, more than you are really appreciated, more than you are ready to defend in return. You sincerely think that this demonstrates your noble character, your generosity of soul.

But Machiavelli, that ruthless diagnosis of human weakness, would tell you that if you give immeasurably more than your current position and the actual circumstances require, you thereby weaken the very position you may have worked so hard to earn. Why this happens is because you confuse people about your true standards, your limits. And when people are confused about your standards, they do not strive to meet them, they do not reach up.

On the contrary, they instinctively sink to the level you allow them to, until you begin to drown with them in the swamp of devaluation. Remember, being useful is not a weakness, it is a strength. But to be useful without limit, recklessly - that is a truly destructive weakness. So here is your new rule, your new compass.

Give always with awareness, understanding the cost and the purpose. Retreat with surgical precision when necessary. And if they still haven't noticed, haven't appreciated what you've handed them on a silver platter, let them feel exactly what they've lost by your leaving or distancing yourself. This isn't selfishness or revenge. This is pure, crystal-clear Machiavellian balance.

Machiavelli is essentially teaching us the art of self-assessment and strategic allocation of our resources. It's not about becoming greedy, it's about not allowing others to parasitize on your generosity. I've been through this myself. The more I gave for free, the less it was appreciated. But when I started dosing my help and clearly stating its value, the attitude changed dramatically. It's like water: when there's a lot of it, people don't notice it, but when it becomes scarce, they're ready to pay gold for it.

But how do you find this balance so as not to overdo it and turn from a giver into a taker, and will such a change in behavior not cause a negative reaction from those who are used to your reliability? You have probably seen this happen more than once in life. Someone, tired of being “convenient” for everyone, suddenly begins to take control of their life into their own hands. They clearly set personal boundaries.

They begin to demand adequate value for the value they provide. And how do those around them immediately begin to call them, especially those who are used to taking advantage of their reliability - selfish, cold, heartless, calculating. But it is these people, paradoxically, who begin to rise, grow, achieve success. And not because they mercilessly walked over others, betraying and deceiving. But because they finally stopped allowing others to wipe their feet on them, devaluing their time and talents.

The insightful Machiavelli would never apologize for using his leverage, his power. Because in a world built primarily on strategy and the struggle of interests, not using people wisely, for your own benefit and your goals, means voluntarily choosing weakness, condemning yourself to the role of an eternal victim. This is a very important point that Machiavelli would underline in red.

Strength is not in being good for everyone, but in being effective for yourself and your allies. I myself was afraid for a long time to seem selfish, until I realized that true selfishness is allowing others to ruin your life for the sake of their fleeting comfort. Machiavelli teaches us healthy selfishness, which is the basis of self-respect and strength.

But how can you rise by using others and at the same time maintain a clear conscience and an unblemished reputation? Is there an ethical way to apply Machiavellian principles in building your success? Let's conclude our dive into Machiavelli's wisdom by mastering the last, perhaps most important truth. How do you climb the social or career ladder by using other people, but doing so without guilt, without backlash from others, without leaving a single crack, a single stain on your impeccable reputation? The secret is that you don't climb by ruthlessly dragging others down, exhausting them and yourself. You climb by finding people whose vision of the world, whose goals and values align with yours, and then you begin to move forward together as a well-coordinated team, where everyone contributes and benefits.

If you sincerely help someone grow, develop, but he in turn stubbornly refuses to help you rise, to support you in your aspirations, then you are not in a partnership, you are, alas, just a convenient springboard for his takeoff. The great Machiavelli would never feel sorry for someone who consciously refused to develop with him, who pulled him back. He would not demonstratively burn bridges, creating scandals. He would simply quietly and methodically build a better, more promising path forward, but with other, more worthy and far-sighted people.

And if someone after this begins to scream about your betrayal, about the fact that you have outgrown him and abandoned him, it is only because he secretly hoped that you would always remain small, convenient, predictable, so that he would feel comfortable against your background. Machiavelli is not talking about betrayal here, but about natural selection in the world of ambition and growth.

It is like in sports. If a team member is not performing, they are replaced so that the team can win. I have been through situations where I had to let go of people who were not willing or able to grow with me. It was not easy, but it was necessary to move forward. Machiavelli teaches us to be realists, not sentimental idealists, when it comes to achieving big goals. But how do you make the people you use for the common good feel like equals, not tools?

And how do you keep your strategy secret without raising suspicions? Using people ethically is the ultimate skill, and it means making them genuinely feel like equal partners, even if you know deep down that you are the one leading this game, that you are the chief strategist.

How do you achieve this? You first listen carefully to their ideas, even if you already have a solution. You publicly praise their contribution, their efforts, their talents in front of others. You ask them questions from time to time, the answers to which you already know perfectly well, but in doing so you make them feel smart, competent. You reward them strategically, in measured doses, you celebrate their successes. And what is very important, you offer them small, insignificant concessions to skillfully hide the large strategic benefits that you are actually getting from this interaction.

Why is this so important? Because when people feel equal, when they believe that their opinion is taken into account, that they are a full part of the process, they rarely rebel, rarely express discontent. In fact, they begin to actively defend the system of which, in their sincere opinion, they are a part.

Machiavelli did not dominate by brutally suppressing dissent. He dominated by skillfully making others feel chosen, part of something greater. So that even if you are objectively using them, they feel used by a wise king, not by a cruel tyrant. And therein lies a huge difference. It is the art of creating a shared reality in which all participants feel like winners, even if the main gain is yours. Machiavelli would have been a master of this kind of cooperative dominance.

I try to apply this principle in my teamwork. Always emphasize everyone’s contribution, make people feel important, even if the final decision is mine. This creates an atmosphere of trust and cooperation, which is much more productive than authoritarian rule. But how do you protect your true plans and leverage from those who might try to use them against you? And how do you walk away from unnecessary relationships without creating enemies?

Who might try to use them against you?