We often think about the importance of having—and being—a positive role model. We make choices we hope our children will emulate and try to surround ourselves with people we admire. Positive influences matter for all kinds of reasons, and many of us put real effort into cultivating them. But not everyone in our life is a great model. Family members, coworkers, neighbors, people in our social circle—there are always a few whose choices and patterns make us think, yikes, not good.
These people can be surprisingly helpful to us too, just in a different way. Call it the negative example. For every person we look up to for her patience, courage, or warmth, there’s someone else whose greed, pettiness, or misaligned priorities show us what to avoid. While our instinct is often to turn away, there is value in paying attention to these examples—not to emulate them, and not to judge them, but to learn from the consequences unfolding in real time.
Virtues such as generosity or wisdom contribute to a well-functioning society, but they also tend to produce a good life. This isn’t a moral claim, it is an observable phenomenon. It’s hard to be surrounded by caring, loving people when we’re not caring ourselves. Generosity attracts generosity; greed attracts greed. While society benefits when we act with principle, the individual often benefits even more. Life built on virtue ages well; life built on vices rarely does. Most people who are angry all the time do not end up in a good place.
Negative role models, in this sense, become cautionary tales. We might know someone obsessed with money who accumulated plenty of it, but whose fixation cost them connection and companionship. Or someone who refuses to listen—so certain, so defensive—that their world gets smaller every year. These examples show us, in detail, where unexamined tendencies can lead. The point isn’t to gloat or to point fingers, but to understand how certain paths reliably unfold. They create an anti–road map: not what to do, but what to steer clear of.
If we want to make this practical, we can look at someone in our life who doesn’t have it good—someone isolated, overwhelmed, or repeatedly making the same avoidable mistakes. Then we ask: what is this person like? Does he listen? Is she generous? Does he accept help? Does she soften when people reach out? These questions illuminate patterns we might otherwise overlook.
When we study these negative examples, something else becomes clear: they sharpen the outlines of the positive models we admire. One shows us what to move toward; the other shows us what to move away from. Put next to each other, the contrast helps us see more clearly. We don’t just appreciate patience—we see what impatience does to relationships. We don’t just admire generosity—we watch stinginess shrink a life. Positive models give us direction. Negative models give us boundaries. Together, they give us a fuller map.
When we sit with this long enough, the lens inevitably turns back toward us– and often leads to some discomfort. After all, none of us are loving, kind, generous, or wise all the time. We start asking harder questions: where in our own life are we inching toward patterns we know end badly? Where are we becoming a smaller, more reactive version of ourselves without realizing it? Noticing, and then moving toward that discomfort, is the goal. None of us intend to become cautionary tales, but all of us carry tendencies that—if left alone—can take us somewhere we don’t want to go. Negative examples help us notice these early signals and course-correct. In order to really be able to course correct though, we have to have the courage to honestly look inwards.
There’s emotional complexity in this process. It can feel uncomfortable to examine someone else’s life this way. We might worry we’re being judgmental, and we risk looking down on people who are almost by definition not doing well. All kinds of feelings– shame, fear, anger, defensiveness– come alive when we recognize traits in others that live in us too. But these emotions can guide us. Instead of pushing those feelings aside, we can use them to see ourselves more clearly– but this only works when we can summon enough kindness and compassion to look at ourselves with love rather than shame, anger, or disappointment.
And through all of this, it helps to remember that the people who become negative examples for us are rarely villains. They’re often hurting, lost, or repeating patterns they never learned how to interrupt. Observing the consequences of their choices isn’t an invitation to smugness; it’s an invitation to compassion. We can learn from their missteps without reducing them to their worst tendencies. When we hold clarity and compassion at the same time, we give ourselves the best chance to build a life grounded in intention, shaped by virtues, and informed by the full range of human examples around us.
Love,
Doc
Forwarded this email? Sign-up here
See past posts here.