What if I told you that many of your choices, your purchases, even your political opinions may not be entirely your own? That behind much of what you believe stands one man you've probably never heard of. His name was Edward Bernays, the father of public relations, the man who used psychology to sell everything from cigarettes to presidents, the man who quietly rewired democracy itself. Hi, this is Reza Sanchide and this is another episode of Philosophy of Life. Today, We explore the man and the world he helped create. Edward Bernays was born in 1891 in Vienna. He was no ordinary man. He was the nephew of Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis. At the time, Freud's work was revolutionary and deeply unsettling. He proposed that human beings are not entirely rational. Beneath our conscious thoughts lie hidden forces, primitive urges, repressed desires, fears, anxieties, unconscious drives that shape how we behave, often without us even realizing it. Freud called this world beneath awareness the unconscious mind. For centuries, we believed that humans were primarily rational creatures, making logical decisions. Freud shattered that idea. He showed that much of what we do is not driven by logic, but by emotion, desire, trauma, and unconscious needs seeking expression. And this is where Edward Bernays had his insight. He asked a simple but dangerous question. If people are not driven purely by logic, if their choices come from deep emotional needs, then couldn't these forces be studied and used to influence behavior on a mass scale? Not just for healing the mind, like Freud intended, but for selling products, ideas, even entire ideologies. Desires, fears, irrational urges. Bernays saw something else. Could these hidden forces be used to influence mass behavior? His family moved to America. He studied at Cornell University. During World War I, he worked for the U.S. government, helping persuade the American public to support the war. Here, for the first time, Bernays witnessed the power of propaganda. And after the war, he asked the question that would define his life. If propaganda can move nations into war, Why not use it for business, for politics, for peace? After the war, the word propaganda carried a dark stain. So Bernays rebranded it. He called it public relations. And with that, An entire industry was born. One of his most iconic campaigns targeted the social norms of 1920s America. At that time, women had just won the right to vote. They were entering the workforce. They were challenging old traditions. But one symbol of independence remained forbidden. Cigarettes. Smoking in public was considered improper. unladylike, a sign of loose morals. For many women, this wasn't just about cigarettes. It was about equality, about freedom, about claiming the same space as men. Bernays saw this tension and he saw an opportunity. He consulted psychoanalysts, many directly influenced by Freud. They agreed. Cigarettes carried powerful unconscious symbolism. They represented male power, phallic authority, control. If women could openly smoke, they were symbolically claiming equality. And so, Bernays orchestrated one of the most famous PR stunts in history. During New York's Easter parade, young women hired by Bernays lit cigarettes in public, right in front of photographers and journalists. He called them torches of freedom. The newspapers ran the story. The public took notice. And overnight, a taboo collapsed. Smoking for women was no longer improper. It was liberation. And cigarette sales soared. Once again, Bernays proved people don't just buy products. They buy symbols. They buy identity. They buy meaning. While Bernays was famous for his commercial campaigns, perhaps his most disturbing work came in the world of geopolitics. In the 1950s, the United Fruit Company, today known as Shikita, controlled vast amounts of land, railroads, and ports in Central America. In many ways, United Fruit was more powerful than the governments of the countries it operated in. In Guatemala, a small country of just a few million people. United Fruit owned nearly half of all arable land, much of it unused. The company enjoyed extremely favorable deals, paying very little in taxes, while controlling major parts of the nation's economy. But things were changing. In 1951, Jacobo Arbenz was elected president of Guatemala. Arbenz was not a communist. He was a nationalist, a reformer who wanted to modernize Guatemala's economy and reduce poverty. His most significant reform was land redistribution. Under the agrarian reform law, unused land owned by large companies, including United Fruit, would be expropriate and redistributed to poor farmers. For the peasants of Guatemala, this was a path toward food, security, dignity, and independence. But for United Fruit, it was a financial threat. And United Fruit would not stand by. The company hired Edward Bernays to reshape the narrative. Bernays understood that framing this simply as a dispute over land would not gain sympathy in Washington. So he reframed it. He painted Arbenz not as a nationalist, but as a communist puppet. He fed American journalists stories that Guatemala was falling under Soviet influence. He arranged press tours, staged events, and strategically leaked information, all designed to create fear. Through Bernays' work, Guatemala became, in the eyes of the American public, a dangerous foothold for communism in the Western Hemisphere. A threat to US national security. In reality, there was little evidence of Soviet control. But in the Cold War climate of the 1950s, fear was enough. The campaign worked. In 1954, with full support from the Eisenhower administration, the CIA launched Operation PB Success, a covert operation to overthrow Arbenz, a small force of mercenaries combined with psychological warfare, destabilized the Guatemalan government. Arbenz resigned. The democratic experiment collapsed. A military dictatorship took over, one that would rule with repression and violence for decades. Tens of thousands of Guatemalans were killed in the civil war that followed. Millions suffered in their brutal regimes. Generations were displaced or impoverished. The damage wasn't limited to Guatemala. The precedent of foreign intervention in Latin America echoed throughout the region, fueling instability, poverty, and authoritarianism across the continent. And at the heart of it was a public relations campaign. Bernays never fired a bullet. He never ran an army. But with words, images, and headlines, he helped justify the destruction of a nation's democracy. He showed that the tools of persuasion could not only sell products. They could destabilize entire governments. This was persuasion weaponized. and it remains one of the darkest chapters in the legacy of Edward Bernays. After Guatemala, it became clear that Edward Bernays' work went far beyond selling products or shaping fashion. He had developed something far more powerful, a system of engineered consent, a new philosophy of control. He called it exactly that, the engineering of consent. And this idea would sit at the center of his thinking for decades. In 1928, Bernays published his most famous book, Propaganda. In it, he wrote, In Bernays' view, modern democracies were too complex. The public was too emotional, too disorganized, too easily swayed by passion fears, and tribalism, he believed that true democracy could not survive without guidance, without skilled managers of public opinion, without people like himself. The masses needed to be led, not ruled by force, but gently pushed, subtly guided, emotionally directed. This, to Bernays, was not evil. In fact, he saw it as a public service. He wasn't an obvious villain. He wasn't a dictator. He was the quiet engineer, working behind the curtain, shaping opinion to keep society stable. But here's where the paradox becomes dangerous. because once you believe the masses must be controlled for their own good, where do you draw the line? What begins as persuasion easily becomes manipulation, and manipulation, when weaponized, becomes domination. The ethical line blurs even further when you compare his so-called service to the devastation caused by his influence. Thousands dead in Guatemala. Dictatorships across Latin America. Generations living under fear and oppression. At that scale, even Bernays own defense that this manipulation was necessary or harmless collapses. Because when words justify coups, when headlines prepare invasions, when public opinion becomes a weapon, the philosophy of consent becomes something much darker. It becomes the quiet machinery behind manufactured reality. A machinery that no longer serves freedom, but replaces it. Edward Bernays lived for over a century. By the time he died in 1995, his blueprint had become the operating system of modern life. Advertising became emotional. Politics became theater. News became entertainment. Consumerism became identity. But this was not just a change in business or media. This was something far deeper. The most devastating legacy of Bernays life is that persuasion itself became reality. The ordinary person no longer lives outside the system of influence. They live inside it. We are no longer simply targeted by persuasion. We exist inside engineered environments designed to shape how we think, feel, and act. Every product we buy, every piece of news we read, every vote we cast, every belief we hold may already have been touched by invisible hands guiding us long before we make the choice. For Bernays, manipulation was a tool But that tool has now become the air we breathe. And once persuasion becomes daily reality, the very distinction between free will and guided behavior begins to fade. We no longer ask, am I being manipulated? Instead, manipulation itself becomes normalized. simply part of modern existence. This was never meant to be an equation for daily life. Yet, today, engineered consent has become the foundation of how we interact with the world. Bernays opened the door, and we have walked through it willingly. Now comes the real question. If our desires can be shaped, if our opinions can be engineered, are we truly free? Bernays would say, yes, but only because we're guided. But if persuasion becomes invisible, if we no longer recognize it, is that still freedom? We live in the attention economy. Every click, every scroll, every purchase feeds the machine Bernays helped create. And the most unsettling part? We enjoy it. We like being entertained. We like being sold comfortable narratives. We like the illusion of choice. Freedom today may not mean independence, but rather the freedom to choose which manipulation we prefer. Edward Bernays is gone. But his world remains. A world where perception is reality, where emotion trumps fact, where consent is engineered. The first step toward waking up to this reality is acceptance. Acceptance that we are being manipulated. Acceptance that much of what we believe, consume and desire has already been shaped long before we ever made our choices. Because only through acceptance can awareness begin. And awareness is the first step to reclaiming freedom. Thank you for joining me on another episode of Philosophy of Life. Until next time, stay curious, stay awake.