It not only politicians, newspapers, and hell-fire preachers who use fear and then offer the cure. Cleaning brands, tea importers, and conspiracy theorists use the tactic too.
The appeal to fear is one of the oldest and most reliable tools in persuasion. Using fear is one of the simplest ways to make people do what you want.
You introduce a threat which could be real, exaggerated, or entirely made up, and then you put forward a solution.
Buy this product, support this policy, follow this advice and everything will be ok. The fear isn’t there simply to warn you, it’s there to steer you in a particular direction.
This tactic is often referred to as the fear appeal, but you’ll also see it described as scare tactics, fear mongering, appeals to threat, fear-based persuasion, or risk messaging.
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When a politician warns of rising crime or public services breaking down, or a newspaper runs headlines about a new virus or safety scare, or a preacher speaks of judgement and damnation, the aim is not just to worry us. The fear softens resistance. It clears the path for the policy, the narrative, or the doctrine that follows.
And it isn’t limited to these obvious, heavy-handed examples. The appeal to fear shows up everywhere. Digital platforms use it to keep us engaged. Home security companies use it to shift products. Drink manufacturers use it to turn us off a rival. Even conspiracy figures use it to build loyalty and authority. They all have different packaging, but it’s the same tactics of persuasion being used across them all.
Fear is one of the quickest ways to grab our attention and push us to act. When we feel scared, our brain stops treating a message as “interesting information” and starts treating it as a possible threat. In that moment, we are much more open to anyone who seems to offer safety or a way out.
Appeals to fear work by painting a worrying picture of what could go wrong, then pointing to a product, idea, or behaviour as the solution. The message is basically: “If you don’t do this, something bad might happen – but if you do, you’ll be safe.” We’re not just buying the thing being sold; we’re buying relief, peace of mind, and the feeling that we’ve dodged a bullet.
What sounds like genuine concern is often deliberate guidance, and what feels like choice is usually a narrow route laid out in advance.
But using fear tactics without offering a way out doesn’t work.
If a message just tries to scare us without showing a clear way to fix the problem, most people either tune out or push it to the back of their minds. We don’t like feeling helpless, so if there’s no obvious next step, we’d rather not think about it at all.
Some public health posters have done this in the past: they showed the danger, often very graphically, in order to scare us to take action. But they didn’t show people how to actually make the change. It was only when later campaigns started adding practical help and simple advice – things like quit‑lines, support groups, or small steps to get started – that more people began to listen.
Fear tactics work best when they are paired with hope: “Yes, this is serious, but here’s something you can actually do about it.”
Below are a range of everyday examples showing how the appeal to fear fallacy (a misleading argument which is logically unsound) is used to influence behaviour — from politicians and newspapers to conspiracy figures, cleaning brands, and tea importers.
Across all of them, the fear itself isn’t the point. It’s just the lever. The purpose is to guide you in a particular direction.
The initial message is designed to cause concern and grab your attention, but what matters most is not the threat itself, but what you are guided towards next: what you’re encouraged to believe, buy, or support.
The details of the threat differ, depending on the audience, but the formula stays the same. Present a threat, emphasise the consequences, then offer a route to safety..
The politician is one of the most familiar users of the fear appeal.
By highlighting threats such as economic decline, extremist groups, or rising crime figures, complex issues are reduced to straightforward problems that demand action.
Once the fear is established, a particular policy or decision is positioned as the only sensible response.
The newspaper is another familiar user of the fear appeal, and often works as a pairing for the politician.
By focusing on threats such as crime waves, migrant “crises”, health scares, or social breakdown, everyday events are framed as signs of a wider and worsening danger.
Once people are worried, the story becomes easier to frame in a particular direction.
The hell and damnation preacher is one of the clearest examples of the fear appeal in action.
By warning of sin, punishment, and eternal suffering, everyday behaviour is framed as spiritually dangerous and morally urgent.
Once a level of anxiety has been embedded in the followers, obedience, repentance, and acceptance of doctrine are presented as the only safe path forward.
The conspiracy leader uses the fear appeal in a very similar way to the preacher, but using more modern threats to our mental and spiritual well-being.
By warning of hidden elites, secret agendas, and unseen forces controlling society, ordinary events are reframed as signs of a vast and dangerous plot.
Once the fear is in place, rejection of mainstream sources is encouraged, with loyalty to the alternative narrative being presented as the only way to stay safe and informed.
The wellness guru often relies on fear, but without the dramatics of the politician or the preacher.
By warning about toxins in food, chemicals in products, and damage happening inside your body that you cannot see, everyday choices are made to feel risky.
Once the concern is planted, their supplements, powders, and routines are offered as the correct way to fix the problem.
A very successful PR campaign from a few years ago played on the growing fear of identity theft.
By suggesting that sensitive information from discarded letters, bank statements, and household paperwork were putting you at risk from fraudsters searching through domestic rubbish, manufacturers of home paper shredders promoted their product as the obvious response, repositioning them from office tools to everyday household essentials.
Many years ago I worked on a campaign where we used fear to push people away from drinking coffee. Our client represented an association of tea importers to the UK.
We focused on chemicals created during the process of roasting coffee beans and linked them to possible serious health concerns. None of it was invented, we sourced scientific reports and used the technique of card stacking to choose the scary details we wanted to show, and left out anything that balanced the picture.
Once the fear of illness was planted, drinking tea was positioned as the safer, healthier option.
Running parallel to our anti-coffee campaign, we used the same technique for a different client who happened to be a major coffee producer. This time we targeted drinkers of tea.
By focusing on low wages, poor working conditions, and the environmental cost of large-scale tea production, tea drinking was reframed as ethically unsound and morally questionable for the consumer.
Once that discomfort set in, coffee was positioned as the more responsible option.
These two campaigns for tea and coffee ran at the same time for separate clients, each using the same fear-based approach to push towards the other drink.
I go into the full story of how they were planned and carried out in my book Confessions of a Professional Conspiracy Theorist, which looks at what it’s actually like to work on this kind of persuasion from the inside.
Household cleaning brands are some of the most overt users of the fear appeal, with their adverts often mimiking the style of a mini horror movie.
By focusing on invisible germs on worktops, door handles, and children’s toys, everyday homes are reframed as dangerous places to be. Illness is implied as the natural consequence of not doing enough to combat these microbial enemies.
Once the fear is in place, antibacterial sprays, wipes, and gels are presented as the responsible way to protect your family and keep your home safe.
Personal hygiene products often trade on fear of rejection rather than fear of harm.
By suggesting that bad breath, body odour, or stained teeth lead to lost attraction and social exclusion, everyday imperfections are turned into social risks.
Once that fear is in place, mouthwash, deodorant, and whitening toothpaste are sold as protection against embarrassment, judgement, and being shunned by friends and colleagues.
Not all fear appeals are dramatic or alarming. Many work with a touch of humour by gently reminding us of small, avoidable discomforts.
An advert for an umbrella company does not need to warn of danger or harm.
Instead, it plays on the mild fear of turning up to an important meeting soaking wet, flustered, and a target for ridicule.
The consequence is not illness or disaster, just embarrassment and a dent to professional credibility.
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