How would you know if someone were deliberately changing your perception of reality?
Not all manipulation is dramatic. Sometimes it begins with affection. With loyalty. With a sincerely held belief. With the conviction that what you're doing is right.
What happens when those good intentions go too far?
The idea has fascinated me for years: not the obvious lie, but the carefully constructed reality built around partial truth. The kind of psychological manipulation that happens gradually, deliberately, and often so subtly that the person being manipulated doesn’t recognize it until their perception of themselves—and everyone around them—has already changed.
I became curious about these questions when I was young, listening to the adults around me have conversations about psychological manipulation, radicalization, brainwashing, and spheres of influence. I wondered how someone could be persuaded to believe something that seemed completely irrational from the outside.
The answer seemed simple and we’ve likely all heard it: Just do the right thing. However, after years of travel, adventure, dangerous situations, unusual people, and bizarre experiences, I came to realize that life isn’t that straightforward.
Sometimes nothing is as it seems.
In situations where there is no ethical solution, how do you determine the lesser of evils? How do you live with your choices? What if you acted in good faith and time proves you very, very wrong? What if you made a choice everyone condemned that later proved the best choice given the circumstances?
What if there comes a point where you’re no longer sure what truth even is?
I counted the money twice. Two thousand euros in crisp, un-sequential fifties and twenties. I lifted the stack and smelled it again. Something faintly chemical clung to the paper. The closest match that came to mind was the dry, recycled air of a passenger plane. My fingers tightened slightly around the stack.
I looked at my parents. “Where did you get this from?”
They didn’t answer. The silence stretched just long enough to confirm I wouldn’t get one.
“How much do I need to put in the envelope for the dog?” I asked, eyeing Mom, who kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Like a buzzard, I thought. What was she anticipating here?
“The agreed price is two hundred euros,” Mom said, finally sitting down.
Why so fidgety? I counted out the amount and placed it in an envelope labeled “For Dog.” After consideration, I set a fifty and a twenty beside it.
“What’s that for, Jenny?” Mom poured a cup of tea, dipped a biscuit, and took a bite.
I paused. There wasn’t a word for it.
“Extra. They will ask for more.”
My parents exchanged a look. I knew that look. This was a test. One where the rules kept changing.
“You’ll need to purchase supplies and budget for vet bills and dog food,” Dad said. “The money needs to last six months.”
That’s pretty specific. Why six months?
“In that case...” I set one grand aside, grabbed my notebook, and started making a list. As I tried to recall the price of a chew bone, I almost missed Dad gesturing for Mom to leave the room with him.
The door clicked shut behind them. I shook my head. So many secrets.
What if you knew that it wasn’t actually a choice?
Is saying no to something you don’t want, especially when it is going to happen anyway, really an effective strategy? Feigned compliance is deception. Manipulative control is too. Who is the bad guy?
“What if both sides are being deceptive for reasons they believe to be right?”