If Nicolo Mchaveli were alive today, he wouldn't be writing books. He'd be running empires silently. He wouldn't tweet. He wouldn't post. He'd be the man behind the scenes, pulling strings so subtle you'd swear it was destiny. Because in a world addicted to visibility, Makaveli would dominate through invisibility. And today, I'm going to show you exactly how. Not with quotes, with doctrine. 21 psychological rules for total control based on what Makaveli would do if he were among us. Now men judge more by the eye than the hand. Control how they see you and you control what they do. Rule one, always let them underestimate you. Mchavelli understood that power is safest when hidden. Today, everyone's in a rush to prove themselves, to flash credentials, to assert dominance, to show they're the smartest person in the room. But Makaveli wouldn't walk in loud. He'd walk in last, observe first, speak when no one expects him to, and say what no one else dared to. And in doing so, he'd control the room without being noticed until it's too late. Let them think you're quiet. Let them think you're harmless. Let them think you're small because when they believe you pose no threat, they expose themselves fully. And that's when you strike from a position they never prepared for. Rule two, charm is more dangerous than truth. In a hyperconnected, image obsessed society, truth doesn't spread, perception does. Makaveli knew everyone sees what you appear to be. Few experience what you really are. So he wouldn't spend his time proving integrity. He'd spend it building illusion. He'd smile in boardrooms while planting seeds of misdirection. He'd charm enemies, feed them false confidence, and disarm them through likability. That's the art. Not to be good, but to be believed as good. You don't need to be honest. You need to be persuasive. Don't correct how people see you. Exploit it. Let them crown you the hero while you quietly rewrite the ending. Rule three, create ambiguity on purpose. Most people fight to be understood. Makavelli would do the opposite. He'd leave people guessing. One day cold, the next day generous, sometimes silent, sometimes intense. Not because he's confused, but because they are. Confusion creates obsession. Obsession creates focus. Focus creates influence. When people can't define you, they study you. They analyze every word. They overinterpret silence. They begin to orbit your ambiguity, trying to make sense of what they cannot control. That's the power. You're not just a person anymore. You're a puzzle. And puzzles become fixations. Mchavelli would say the people you control the most are the ones who think about you the most. So stop overexplaining. Stop clarifying your position. Stop filling every silence. Leave gaps. Speak in riddles. Smile when they ask questions you refuse to answer. Because confusion breeds curiosity. And curiosity becomes gravitational. Rule four. Control what they see. Hide what you do. In a world where every move is broadcast, Makaveli would move in shadows. Everyone's building their personal brand, posting updates, sharing progress, showing receipts. But the second people see how you move. They start preparing counter moves. They form alliances. They build narratives. They plant traps in your path. So what would Maveli do? He'd keep his output public but his input private. He would appear transparent while hiding his true mechanics. A prince must always be prepared to act against loyalty, against charity, against humanity, against religion to preserve the state. Translation: Appear noble. Move ruthlessly. Don't reveal your strategies. Don't explain your systems. Don't tell people what you're building until you've already built it. Let them think you're slow. Let them think you're resting, then pass them by with a silence they never prepared for. Control the feed. Guard the factory. Rule five. Build a mask. Then let it fracture. Makaveli understood something every manipulator now uses. Perfection is forgettable. Flaws are addictive. So you build a mask. You become confident. poised, intelligent, calm. But just once, let it crack. Reveal a controlled imperfection, a sharp word, a calculated vulnerability, a sudden burst of insight that reveals you're far deeper than they realized. Why? Because people don't obsess over what they already understand. They obsess over what feels just out of reach. Give them 90% of the story, then go silent. They'll chase the other 10% for years. A wise ruler should cultivate an appearance of virtue while being ready to act contrary to it. So be the light. Then flash the darkness. Let them glimpse the abyss. Then close the curtain. You'll become unforgettable. Not because they loved the mask, but because they saw it slip and now they need to know what's behind it. Rule six. Say less than necessary always. When people talk too much, they reveal their weakness, their need for validation, their fear of being misunderstood, their emotional dependency on clarity. But the one who speaks with precision and stops before explaining too much dominates the room. Makavelli didn't speak to be understood. He spoke to create distance. He used words like blades, not blankets. In a negotiation, in a disagreement, in a moment of tension, he'd say one sentence, two at most. Then let the silence speak louder. And that silence, that's where the fear begins. Why? Because now they project. They start thinking, "What does he know? Why isn't he reacting? What's he planning next? You've said nothing. But they've written a novel in their heads, and you're the villain they can't outmaneuver. So what do you say in power? Exactly enough. Not to satisfy, not to impress, just to control the rhythm of thought. Then stop. Let them lean in. Let them guess. Let them sweat. Because mystery, real mystery, is forged in the space between words. Rule seven, blur the line between threat and ally. In today's world, people are obsessed with knowing where everyone stands, who's on their side, who's against them, who's safe, and who's a threat. Makaveli would never let them feel that certainty. He'd sit with enemies at dinner, compliment rivals publicly, defend people he privately planned to remove. Why? Because when people think you're dangerous, they prepare for war. But when they think you're neutral, they sleep. And the best time to move is when they're asleep. The lion cannot protect himself from traps, and the fox cannot defend himself from wolves. One must therefore be a fox to recognize traps and a lion to frighten wolves. You must be both. So you compliment your enemy's idea just before you outmaneuver them. You agree with the critic just before replacing them in silence. You appear passive until your absence becomes a weapon. Be warm. Be supportive. Be disarming until the moment you move. And by then, it's too late to stop you. Modern translation. Say less, smile more, play neutral, and then remove them while they're still confused about whether you are even a threat. Rule eight, make them feel safe right before you take power. The easiest way to remove someone is not by fighting them. It's by making them believe you're no threat. You're on their side. You want them to win. Then when they finally trust you, you move. Makaveli would study your patterns, mimic your language, praise your ideas, and disagree softly. He'd never make you feel like you're losing, he'd make you feel like you're guiding him. And once you feel safe, he would act decisively, quickly, cleanly, and by the time you feel betrayed, he's already in your seat. Men are so simple and so much inclined to obey immediate needs that a deceiver will never lack victims. So tell them what they need to hear, show them what they want to see, and take what they never thought you'd touch, all while smiling. Rule nine, make people dependent. Then remove yourself. If Makaveli wanted to dominate someone, he wouldn't threaten them. He'd help them in ways that slowly, silently created dependence. He'd teach them something no one else could. Solve a problem no one else would. Provide stability they hadn't earned, become irreplaceable without ever asking for recognition, and then he'd leave. Not in anger, not with revenge, just withdrawal. Why? Because nothing destroys people faster than the sudden absence of what they've grown addicted to. Men are kept honest only by necessity. When they are free to act, they are dishonest. So, Makavelli would become your necessary illusion. The person you thought you didn't need until you lost them. That's how you become unforgettable. Create a void. Make them lean on you, then take your hand away midstep. They won't hate you. They'll hate how much they need you and spend years trying to fill the space. Rule 10, weaponize the favor. Most people offer help to be liked. Mchavelli would offer help to create leverage. If he gave you something, he wouldn't let you forget it. He wouldn't collect with force. He'd collect with presence. You'd feel indebted. You'd feel small. You'd feel a psychological imbalance you couldn't fix. And that's the point. You offer them a shortcut, a solution, an advantage. Then you pull back slightly. You don't ask for anything. You just let the imbalance ache until they start paying you back in loyalty, favors, information, or submission. And if they forget, you remind them subtly. Remember that time I just once enough to make them realize you own a piece of their pride. Favors when used with patience become psychological chains and the longer they stay unacnowledged the heavier they feel. Rule 11. Manufacture loyalty by letting them betray others for you. People think loyalty is earned by kindness. It isn't. Mchavelli knew the best way to make someone loyal is to get them to compromise for your benefit. You don't force betrayal. You allow it. Let them tell you something they shouldn't. Let them break a small rule in your favor. Let them talk badly about someone to win your approval. You never ask. You never pressure. You just leave the door slightly open and they walk through it. Now they're tied to you. Not by admiration, but by complicity. People protect the things they've compromised for. So when someone betrays others in your direction, they're investing in you. And the more they invest, the less they can afford to lose you. That's how Mchaveli would create allies. Not through charisma, but through entanglement. Rule 12. Break alliances from the inside. Makaveli didn't just outmaneuver individuals. He dismantled entire networks, but not by confrontation, by erosion. He wouldn't attack the alliance. He'd infiltrate it. He'd plant ideas, seeds of doubt, misalignments in values. He who causes another to become powerful ruins himself. So, he'd identify the strongest bond in the group and slowly infect it with suspicion. I heard he said something about you. Have you noticed how she never really defends you? I'm not saying anything. Just watch how they act. That's all it takes. You don't need to destroy the alliance. You just make them destroy it themselves. Let their fear of betrayal do the work for you. Because once trust breaks inside a group, the whole structure collapses without a single blow. Rule 13. Reflect their insecurities back at them. Gently want someone to obey you without realizing it. Make them feel seen, but only in ways that confirm their self-doubt. Not with insult, not with criticism, with soft, carefully timed comments. You're really brave, especially for someone who's not used to attention. You always seem to pull through, even when people don't take you seriously. You're doing great, even if your confidence doesn't always show it. What do these statements do? They trigger agreement from their pain. And once you've anchored yourself as the person who understands them, they attach. They defer. They begin to move under your emotional gravity. Makaveli understood that fear and insecurity are far more effective than threats because threats trigger defenses. But insecurities, they open the door from the inside. And once you're in, you become the only voice they trust. Rule 14. Never be the one holding the knife. In every betrayal, in every decision, in every ruthless removal, Mchaveli had one golden rule. Let others do the dirty work. He would orchestrate outcomes, whisper ideas, influence decisions, but never be the one in the spotlight. When someone needed to be cut off, he'd make it seem like they were never loyal to begin with. When arrival needed to be removed, he'd let them self-destruct with just the right amount of provocation. When chaos needed to happen, he'd feed both sides information, then step away before the fire ignited. Why? Because if you're seen as the executioner, you gain enemies. But if you're seen as the inevitable alternative after someone else fails, you gain followers. This is the Machavelian masterpiece. The illusion of clean hands. You orchestrated everything. You controlled everyone, but no one can prove it. And even if they suspect you, you're already sitting where the last man stood. Rule 15. Say nothing and let them reveal everything. In any room, the most powerful person isn't the loudest. It's the one who says nothing and watches everything. Why? Because silence is a weapon disguised as passivity. Makaveli would walk into today's world of podcasts, rants, and digital noise and win by becoming the one person who doesn't broadcast. He wouldn't fill the silence. He'd let others choke on it. Here's how he'd use it. Someone insults you. You say nothing. Someone asks your opinion. You smile and let them keep talking. Someone tries to trigger emotion. You blink, stay quiet, and offer no reaction. That silence, it forces them to speak more. And the more they speak, the more they reveal their doubts, their intentions, their weak spots. You don't have to interrogate them. They'll tell you everything just to fill the space you've weaponized. Never attempt to win by force what can be won by deception. And silence is deception's most elegant form. Rule 16. Be unpredictable, but only when it matters. Mchavelli would never be erratic, but he would be unreliable in critical moments. Why? Because predictability breeds manipulation. If they always know when you'll reply, they'll control the tempo. If they always know how you react under stress, they'll plan the provocation. If they know you'll always take the high road, they'll walk all over it. But if sometimes you forgive and sometimes you disappear. If sometimes you speak and sometimes you let them drown in silence. If sometimes you engage and sometimes you watch them implode, they will fear you, not because you're aggressive, but because you're unreadable. Mchavelli knew men are driven by two principal impulses. either by love or by fear. But fear is born from uncertainty. And the person they can't predict is the person they can't prepare for. Rule 17. Make your presence felt even in absence. To dominate psychologically, you don't need to always show up. You need to make them feel your impact when you're not around. How? By becoming the standard, the reference point, the shadow in every conversation. They second-guess their choices because of how you used to correct them. They can't celebrate wins because they wonder what you would have done. They don't trust others fully because they remember how precise your judgment was. This is psychological branding, not based on content, based on energy. You imprint your presence by how you behave when you're still in the room, measured, observant, controlled, surgical. So when you're gone, they don't forget you. They compare everyone else to you. Marchaveli wouldn't need to fire people. He'd create such a powerful memory that even in absence, they'd still play by his rules. Rule 18. Never threaten. Let fear do the work. Threats create resistance. Mchavelli never needed to say, "I'll destroy you." He let others wonder if he might. That wondering, that psychological pressure, far more damaging than words. Here's how it works today. You don't say I could expose you. You just pause when they lie and watch them squirm. You don't say, "I'll ruin your chances." You just make one call, then say nothing else. You don't say, "You're done." You simply disappear from their world and let them panic about what you're doing. Why? Because fear based on imagination is more powerful than fear based on information. Once they fear what you might do, they start working for your approval just to avoid finding out. Rule 19. Delay your revenge until it becomes devastating. Mchavelli didn't believe in quick retaliation. He believed in watching, waiting, letting the offense rot until the timing was perfect. Injuries should be inflicted all at once so that their ills savor may be less. Benefits should be granted little by little. This meant when someone wronged him, he didn't react. He studied them. He let them relax. He let them believe they'd gotten away with it. And then one day when they least expected it, he moved clean, calculated, absolute. Because revenge isn't just about punishment. It's about control. When you react instantly, you let the other person set the tempo. But when you delay, they live in paranoia. They can't enjoy their victories. They can't sleep soundly. They fear every silent moment. And that fear, it does more damage than any outburst ever could. Rule 20. Become a system, not a man. Makaveli never wanted to be liked. He wanted to be respected. Not because of charm, but because removing him meant removing the structure. That's the modern move. Stop being a name. Start being a network, an idea, a standard, a strategy embedded in how others operate. Train others to think like you. Make yourself essential in systems no one else understands. Embed your voice in decisions that echo after you're gone. So even if they don't want you, they can't function without you. This is how legacies form. You aren't just feared while present. You are remembered in systems they can't delete. That's not influence. That's permanent psychological control. Rule 21. Make them afraid to speak your name. The final form of power isn't recognition. It's haunting. Makaveli would be the person people reference indirectly. You know who I mean. Don't end up like him. You know how that move played out last time. They wouldn't say his name because even naming you feels like invoking something bigger than they can handle. You don't trend. You linger. You don't win arguments. You change the atmosphere. You become the one they fear bringing up because everyone else in the room already knows the consequences. If Mchaveli were alive today, he wouldn't be shouting online. He wouldn't be looking for followers. He'd be hidden in power structures, shaping narratives behind smiles and silence. He'd be the voice in your head that says, "Don't respond. Don't reveal. Let them speak first. And most importantly, don't chase respect. Position yourself so they can't breathe without it. That's how you win. Not with fame, not with noise, with a legacy they can't stop.