We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.

Anaïs Nin

In today’s world, discerning what is real from what is manufactured is a formidable challenge. Suspicion abounds, particularly among the political right, that groups like Patriot Front—openly fascist—are not grassroots movements but rather orchestrated operations, possibly by federal agencies. The MAGA base can’t even spell the word “fascism” let alone embrace it as a guiding philosophy.  Yet, this suspicion fuels the leftist “anti-fascism” narrative, which is wielded as a justification for aggressive tactics and bullying.

Fear is a potent tool for control, and political operatives exploit it to manipulate public sentiment. When voter turnout wanes in critical demographics, staged provocations—such as groups wielding tiki torches to “Unite the Right”—can galvanize a larger, more powerful group into action. These events often attract a few genuine extremists, but their true purpose is to provoke a broader reaction.

This strategy mirrors the “pony motor” in early diesel engines, where a smaller gasoline engine was used to heat and start the larger one. Similarly, false flag operations—whether orchestrated or permitted—serve as catalysts for sweeping agendas, such as justifying military invasions of countries or enacting restrictive laws. While I’m not convinced that 9/11 was a government-orchestrated plot, evidence suggests some knew in advance and that it was exploited to advance a wishlist of wars against unrelated nations and to pass laws that would not have prevented the attack. This reflects the mechanics of how to “manufacture consent” in our modern democracies—where fear is leveraged to unify and control populations.

The creation of a common enemy is a time-tested method for fostering unity. During the Cold War, the specter of communism was used to rally the public. After the Soviet Union’s collapse, Islamic terrorism became the new focal point. The 9/11 attacks, likely executed in part by Osama bin Laden’s organization, were real but were exploited to amplify fear. Domestically, this pattern persists: Democrats emphasize the threat of right-wing extremism, while Republicans fixate on “wokeism” and DEI initiatives. These are deliberate strategies, rallying points designed to consolidate support. Even more effective is provoking hatred from opponents—forcing one’s base to fight for survival and justifying the consolidation of power.

We Create Our Own Enemies

This dynamic extends beyond politics into cultural and religious identities. Jewish identity, for example, is partly shaped by what’s known as “Masada syndrome,” a collective memory of the Jewish defenders at Masada in Roman Judea (later renamed Syria Palaestina in 135 CE), who chose suicide over captivity. This narrative of the siege mentality is reinforced during the Passover celebration with texts proclaiming to the faithful, “In every generation, they rise up against us to destroy us.” Such beliefs foster an “us against the world” mentality, where hatred is seen as inevitable, reinforcing group cohesion.

Similarly, in the Anabaptist tradition that I grew up in, the reading of Martyrs Mirror cultivates a persecution complex. Likewise, Kanye West’s controversial remark about slavery—“When you hear about slavery for 400 years… that sounds like a choice”—touches on a deeper truth about locus of control. As my mother would say, “You can’t stop a bird from landing on your head, but you can stop it from building a nest.” Paranoia and defensiveness can alienate others or invite their suspicion, while believing you’re inherently excluded can lead to antisocial or even criminal behavior. It’s as if we seek to validate the fears that define our identity.

This pattern is evident in contemporary conflicts. Hamas, for instance, was probably willing to sacrifice innocent lives in Gaza to highlight the Palestinian plight—anticipating Israel’s brutal and disproportionate response. Yet, why does Israel fall into this trap? One possibility is that it aligns with certain political goals. Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu, facing corruption charges, may benefit from war as a distraction. The Likud party’s vision of a Greater Israel—encompassing Palestinian territories, Jordan, and parts of Saudi Arabia and Egypt—could also be a factor. Some speculate this violence is a deliberate provocation to unify Jews through fear, and possibly tied to messianic expectations.

This self-fulfilling prophecy is reflected in online discussions, such as an Israeli subreddit where users lament being hated globally. They attribute this to irrational antisemitism, dismissing the role of the Israel Defense Forces’ actions, such as killing children, which fuel international outrage. This mindset—“They’ll hate us regardless, so we might as well give them a reason”—makes them vulnerable to exploitation by corrupt leaders like Netanyahu.

Breaking the Fear and Control Cycle

The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, that one may turn away from the snares of death.

Proverbs 14:27 ESV

We must guard against siege mentalities like Masada syndrome. By convincing ourselves that the world is inherently against us, we risk acting in ways that bring about the very persecution we fear. Focusing on external threats to define our identity can lead us to become what we dread, fulfilling a prophecy of our own making due to our own unacceptable actions. 

Breaking this cycle requires rejecting fear-based narratives and fostering a sense of agency over our own actions and beliefs.

To guard against exploitation, we must shift our focus from the fear of man to the fear of God.

Human fears—stoked by manufactured enemies and self-fulfilling prophecies—keep us trapped in cycles of division and control.  A reverent fear of a perfect moral agent beyond us offers a higher perspective, grounding us in principles of justice, compassion, and accountability. By prioritizing a divine wisdom earthly manipulation, we become less susceptible to the provocative tactics of those who thrive on our fear, fostering a resilience that unites rather than divides. Establishment of this spiritual foundation empowers us to reject their deadly paranoia and act with clarity, so we break free from those divisive narratives that political systems use exploit to consolidate power.