Veni, vidi… did I understand!?

When politics needs enemies

It doesn’t start with violence. It starts with words. And when those words stop making people uncomfortable, the problem is already in place.

We’ve seen this before.

Every time a political discourse begins by pointing at minorities —immigrants, sexual minorities, “the others”— a familiar mechanism sets in motion. First comes the language of order. Then security. And soon after, almost without transition, the idea that “they” are the problem.

It doesn’t happen overnight. It doesn’t announce itself. It unfolds gradually. And precisely because of that, it works.

The line shifts.

What once provoked rejection becomes tolerated. What seemed unthinkable starts entering everyday language.

Today, this dynamic is particularly visible in the United States. Even in places that, for decades, symbolized openness. Cities like New York —and especially Manhattan— once stood for diversity, coexistence, cultural mixture. Yet even there, something has been changing. Not abruptly, but steadily.

That is what makes it dangerous.

When change does not break in but quietly settles, it becomes harder to confront. By the time it is recognized, it is already normalized.

Figures like Donald Trump do not create this climate from nothing, but they channel it. They give political form to something already in motion. And this kind of discourse depends on one basic condition: the existence of an adversary.

If one does not exist, it will be created.

The pattern is not new. It begins with distrust of the other, continues with stigmatization, and sometimes evolves into deeper forms of hostility —including antisemitism. It is not inevitable, but it is frequent enough to demand attention.

However, the problem does not stop there.

It also appears among those who oppose it.

The logic of enemy-making is criticized, yet often reproduced. Labels replace arguments. “They,” “those people,” “the responsible ones.” Complexity is sacrificed for clarity.

And in that shift, something essential is lost.

The most fragile point is reached when nuance disappears —when criticism of policies turns into suspicion of entire groups, when governments are confused with identities.

That is where a line is crossed.

Antisemitism is not just another issue in public debate. The Holocaust is not simply a historical reference. It is a boundary. A warning of how far a society can go when dehumanization becomes normalized.

Losing that perspective is not a minor mistake.

We are living in a time shaped by overlapping tensions —political, cultural, historical. In that environment, millions of people are caught in dynamics far beyond individual control.

Faced with this, the instinct is often to seek protection in power —to align, to take sides, to believe that security can be guaranteed from above.

History suggests otherwise.

Power does not protect. It manages interests.

That is why returning to the starting point is not simplification —it is clarity.

When politics needs enemies to exist, something has already broken.

And when everything is reduced to “us versus them,” discussion stops being an exchange of ideas and becomes a permanent confrontation.

We have seen how that ends.

And it has never ended well.