“Dune: Part Two” has a multitude of attributes: breathtaking cinematography, stellar performances and otherworldly original scoring, among others. Above all, however, it hits terrifyingly close to home. 

As the nearly three-hour-long film comes to a close, we witness a transformation as Paul Atreides (Timotheé Chalamet) — our protagonist — turns into a power-hungry Messiah overnight. 

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For longtime fans of Frank Herbert’s 1965 trilogy, this comes as no surprise, but I, alongside the rest of my theater audience, let an audible gasp as we witnessed the film’s alleged hero turn into its greatest monster. What follows is the impending doom of intergalactic war and blind faith. 

The world of “Dune: Part Two” is not so different from our own: Arrakis experiences rising territorial and resource tensions, famine, exploitation and poverty. It is a time of immense crisis; a time where people are desperately scouring for hope — the only thing that can keep them going. Place a charismatic figure in a time of crisis — yes, even one named Paul — and you have a Messiah. 

The World Food Programme estimates that more than 309 million people globally face acute levels of food insecurity in 2023; war has been an everyday reality, fought over territory, resources and ideologies across the world. Following the coronavirus pandemic, nations have been experiencing a global recession. Arrakis is not so far from our day-to-day life. 

Here emerges the cult of personality — something not limited to any one vantage point of the political spectrum. 

In 2019, the rise of Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez struck many, with media outlets like the Columbia Journalism Review noting that the United States hadn’t seen a political figure as “visually savvy” and “charismatic” as her since Barack Obama. With more than 13.2 million followers on X and 8.2 million on Instagram, AOC has achieved untouchable celebrity status. 

The Congresswoman has even launched a merchandise line with slogans like “Tax The Rich,” which experts believe capitalize on her fame. This fame has often hindered a constructive assessment of Ocasio-Cortez — to her fans, she’s a superhero; to the other side, she’s a radical villain.

But, of course, nothing compares to the cult of former President Donald Trump.

Personality cults are typically characterized by patriotism, mass demonstrations, idealization and distortions of the truth; Jan. 6 was the ultimate manifestation of this. 

In fact, Trump’s cult of personality grew so incessantly that he had become the ideology himself. 

Trumpism — which encompasses a range of right-wing ideologies, including national conservatism and neo-fascism, and was born out of the former president’s polarizing rhetoric and policies — long prevails even after his second impeachment in 2021. 

This idolization of people in political office isn’t exclusive to the U.S.; the Philippines’ former president Rodrigo Duterte was infamous for his cult following, some believing he was “divinely appointed” to address the country’s rise in crime. Indonesia’s Joko Widodo, who entered the landscape as an “outsider,” rapidly gained a following of fans who believed the man from Surakarta could do no harm. 

It isn’t a crime to admire political figures, nor is it a crime to put your faith in them. Symbols of hope are necessary — they are the very backbone of our democratic systems. Representation is necessary — It ensures that underrepresented groups have a voice within spaces of power. 

But when we view our politicians as God-like figures, it is less likely that we will criticize or question their policies; it is less likely that we will hold them accountable. As soon as Paul asserts himself, and is recognized as the Lisan Al Gaib, a chilling sight of blind faith triumphs; he declares a bloody war, and millions wage it with him. 

Trump, after years of harnessing conspiracy theories, antagonizing the opposition, and denouncing journalism across the U.S., built himself a bullet-proof shield of idealization. 

In 2011, only three in 10 white evangelicals believed a political candidate could commit an immoral act and still fulfill their public duties. In 2017, mainly in response to Trump, these numbers jumped to 72%. Regardless of his actions, the conviction of his following will remain the same: that he was sent by God to Make America Great Again. 

Entering the 2024 elections, the fan-made campaign video “God Made Trump” has gone viral for claiming the former president was sent by the Heavens to “call out Fake News” and “fight the system all day.”

It’s easy to fall into a cult of personality when our reality is constantly confronted with conflict and unrest when hoping for a savior is the only thing we can do. We are faced with incessant polarization and narrow frameworks of morality, which hinder us from viewing our elected officials as ordinary, flawed beings; they are either spawns of the Devil or sent from the Heavens to lead. 

As we continue to proceed into a major election year across the globe — 64 countries will be holding elections in 2024 — remember this as you assess and compare your candidates: At the end of the day, politicians are meant to serve us, not the other way around. They are elected by the people to ensure that legislation, policies and laws are designed in our favor — even if they don’t usually act like it. 

Treating politicians like idols allows them to get away with decisions that do not serve the people; it prevents our legislative bodies from serving their very function and hinders our very democracies. 

Let’s keep Messiahs named Paul in the Dune universe. In ours, politicians are public servants, and it’s time we started treating them like it.