Divide and conquer is a weapon as old as power itself—a tool that authoritarian leaders wield to fracture societies and distract from their abuses. Instead of uniting against corruption, people are steered into self-destructive conflicts, their anger redirected toward each other rather than those pulling the strings. By exploiting existing racial, economic, or cultural divisions, leaders turn discord into control.
At its core, this strategy thrives on oversimplification. Complex issues like economic struggles or cultural shifts are repackaged into an “us versus them” narrative. Leaders amplify these tensions through relentless rhetoric, fear-mongering, and scapegoating, keeping the public so embroiled in infighting that they lose sight of the true threat: the very authority manipulating them.
This is a key component of Donald Trump’s aproach to life. In 2016, he made headlines with his inflammatory claim that Mexico was sending criminals and rapists to the U.S., reducing the complex issue of immigration to a single, fear-inducing stereotype. This rhetoric fueled division, shifting focus away from substantive policy debates.
Trump’s tactics extended beyond immigration. He branded journalists as “the enemy of the people,” belittled opponents with schoolyard nicknames, and spun narratives that encouraged distrust. His response to events like the Charlottesville rally—claiming “very fine people on both sides”—shifted the conversation from confronting hate to debating its definition. By 2023, his rhetoric had escalated, warning of “communists, Marxists, fascists, and radical left thugs” within the country. With each outburst, he fractured potential opposition, ensuring dissent remained disorganized and ineffective.
Across the Atlantic, Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán follows a similar script. Framing immigration as an existential threat to Hungary’s Christian heritage, he fuels nationalist sentiment through state-aligned media, turning distant migration issues into immediate fears.