Think about the people who have moved humanity forward over the past 200 years—the individuals who made a meaningful, lasting contribution to the world. Who belongs on that list? Perhaps Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, or Nelson Mandela for their leadership; Marie Curie or Albert Einstein for their scientific discoveries; Mark Twain or Gabriel García Márquez for their literary brilliance; or Pablo Picasso or Frida Kahlo for their artistic impact. Now, think about the people in your own life who have shaped you the most—those who have been there for you when you needed them, who have made a difference, who have left a mark. Maybe it was a teacher who saw your potential, a mentor who guided you, a coach who believed in you, or a loved one who stood by you in difficult times.
Now, ask yourself: Who on those lists is there because they accumulated vast amounts of money?
We have become obsessed with wealth. In modern culture, success is often measured not by wisdom, creativity, or impact, but by financial status. Celebrities, influencers, and billionaires are idolized because of their bank accounts, and we often assume that because they are rich, they must also be wise, courageous, or deserving of admiration. Does it make sense to take life lessons from those who excel at making money rather than from those who contribute to art, literature, justice, happiness, or strong communities? And yet, this is the trap we find ourselves in: when we revere money, when we chase money, when we aspire to money—we may well get it. Then what? The economy in our country is the envy of the world. Our happiness and quality of life is not.
Historically, we honored figures like Lincoln for his moral courage, Einstein for his intellect, and Morrison for her literary genius. Today, our collective attention has shifted toward tech moguls, hedge fund managers, and social media personalities—not because they have contributed to the well-being of others, but because they have accumulated wealth for themselves. This shift in values is unmistakable, and its consequences are real.
This is not to say that money is unimportant. Financial stability provides security, freedom, and access to opportunities. When wealth becomes the primary measure of a person’s worth, we lose sight of what actually enriches our lives. If financial gain is the primary goal, we risk sacrificing what is meaningful for what is profitable. The problem is not money itself—it is the way we have tied respect and admiration to wealth rather than to the qualities that genuinely build a better world. The love of money is the root of all evil—not money itself.
How did we get here? In a world of rising inequality, money is often the difference between comfort and struggle, between access to healthcare and vulnerability. A lack of a safety net and declining social cohesion have made financial security feel like the only reliable path to stability In a system with few safety nets, wealth is no longer just about luxury—it is about survival. At the same time, social media has reshaped our perception of wealth, surrounding us with carefully curated images of opulence that distort our sense of what is normal. When we constantly see others living extravagant lifestyles, we assume we are falling behind, even when our own lives are stable. This perception is reinforced by real financial pressures: when buying a modest home costs over a million dollars and healthcare alone can be thousands per month, money stops feeling like a means to an end and becomes the end itself. Worse yet, when we idolize money, then having lots of it earns us admiration and respect, and we create a self-reinforcing cycle: people don’t just chase wealth for comfort—we chase it because it conveys social status in a way that wisdom, creativity, or courage do not.
When we take a step back and consider the people who have shaped our world—or who have shaped us personally—money rarely enters into the equation. The teachers who inspired us to think critically and believe in ourselves, the mentors who guided us through difficult decisions, and the loved ones who supported us in our most vulnerable moments—none of them changed our lives because of what was in their bank account. Their impact came from their wisdom, their ability to see potential in us that we could not yet see in ourselves. It came from their kindness, their willingness to listen, to offer encouragement, to remind us that we were not alone. It came from their dedication, their choice to invest their time and energy into others. These are the qualities that leave a lasting mark—the qualities that shape individuals and communities. When we reflect on the people who have mattered in our lives, some had money, some did not. But it is not the presence or absence of money that moves the needle– rather, it is those who have given the most of themselves that we remember.
So the question we must ask ourselves is this: What kind of success do we want to celebrate? If we continue to idolize wealth above all else, we will prioritize profit over progress, money over meaning. But if we shift our focus—if we honor those who create, inspire, and uplift others—we come closer to defining what it means to live a good life. This is not just a philosophical exercise; it is a call to action. Who we admire shapes what we aspire to become. If we want a better world, we must choose our role models wisely.
Cheers,
Doc
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