For as long as humankind has sought meaning, one question has remained at the center of our collective reflections: what is the measure of a person? Civilizations have attempted to answer this by elevating strength, wealth, intelligence, or honor as standards. Yet each of these proves insufficient. Strength can be abused. Wealth can corrupt. Intelligence can deceive. Honor can be hollow. A deeper, more enduring measure is needed — one that speaks not only to the worth of the individual, but also to the health of the community to which that individual belongs.
The true measure of humankind rests upon three foundations: the ability to distinguish right from wrong; the willingness to align legality with morality; and the responsibility to be an asset rather than a liability to one’s family, community, and world. Where these foundations are upheld, individuals flourish and communities are loved. Where they collapse, individuals destroy and communities are hated.
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The ability to differentiate right from wrong
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The ability to delineate legality from illegality
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Whether one is an Asset or a liability to people around them.
Right and Wrong: A Moral Compass Beyond Experience
At the heart of any measure lies the ability to discern between right and wrong. This is not a trivial matter, for right and wrong are not always obvious, nor are they purely subjective. Our lived experiences shape our perspectives, but they do not, by themselves, establish a universal morality. A thief who grew up in poverty may see theft as survival, but survival alone cannot make stealing morally right. Likewise, a society that normalizes corruption may see it as inevitable, but inevitability does not make it just.
Humankind needs a moral compass outside of individual experiences, a framework that transcends the fleeting impulses of hunger, ambition, or fear. This is why religions, philosophies, and legal codes have all sought to establish such standards — not to restrict life, but to guide it toward the common good. Without this external governance of morality, people drift into relativism, where “what is right” becomes whatever feels convenient at the moment.
Communities that fail at this level collapse from within. When right and wrong are left to individual preference, trust erodes. Contracts mean nothing, promises are empty, and cooperation becomes impossible. The social fabric tears apart. The measure of humankind, then, begins with the question: can we recognize that right exists beyond our desires, and can we align ourselves with it even when it costs us something?
Have you seen the videos where people are setup to steal bicycles and mopeds? It is only funny because they get caught. It is not when it happens off-camera, much to the detriment of the owner.
Legal and Illegal: The Narrow Road of Responsibility
From this moral foundation, the question of legality emerges. Ideally, laws should embody a society’s understanding of right and wrong. They are imperfect, but they serve as a collective attempt to restrain evil and promote good. A just law punishes theft not only to deter crime but to affirm the sanctity of property and trust. A fair contract law enforces promises not to burden the weak but to ensure reliability in commerce and life.
The person who accepts this alignment does not live legally out of fear of punishment, but out of a sense of responsibility. Paying taxes, honoring commitments, obeying regulations — these are not simply acts of compliance but contributions to the shared order that makes community possible. To live within the law is not merely to avoid punishment but to live in harmony with one’s neighbors.
Illegality, by contrast, is rarely private. It spreads outward, entangling family, colleagues, and community. When a parent is imprisoned for theft, the children suffer. When an employee embezzles funds, the whole company bears the weight. The cost of illegality is never borne by the guilty alone; it ripples outward into every circle of trust.
The Mexican drug cartels are a stark example. Their existence is not merely the product of personal greed, but of systemic demand. As even the Mexican president has observed, the cartels thrive because there is an eager market for their product. Yet to point only to demand is to excuse wrongdoing by shifting blame. The cartels’ illegality destabilizes families, devastates communities, and corrodes political systems. They may justify their existence as inevitable, but inevitability does not erase responsibility. Their actions demonstrate how deeply illegality can entangle not only the perpetrators but the innocent — making entire regions liabilities rather than assets in the global order.
The measure of humankind at this stage is clear: the ability to accept legality as a moral responsibility, not simply an external constraint. Communities that encourage this alignment are admired; those that tolerate or excuse illegality are despised.
Asset or Liability: The Social Contract in Action
The ultimate measure of a person is whether they become an asset or a liability to those around them. Assets contribute — they build, protect, and sustain. Liabilities destroy — they drain, corrupt, and undermine. This truth is not abstract; it is visible in the daily lives of families, businesses, and nations.
An honest worker is an asset to an employer, bringing reliability and trust. A corrupt official, however, is a liability to the state, bleeding resources and eroding public faith. A community member who volunteers, mentors, or gives generously uplifts others. A community member who steals, deceives, or spreads fear drags the whole neighborhood down.
The logic is linear: the greater the wrongdoing, the greater the cost to others. The thief risks the family’s reputation; the criminal endangers the entire clan. The corrupt politician weakens the state; the cartel destabilizes nations. The social contract works only when enough individuals choose to be assets rather than liabilities.
Immigration into Europe illustrates this dilemma on a large scale. By some estimates, more than 95% of recent migrants into Europe are from Muslim-majority countries. Many come seeking better lives, yet the cultural and moral systems they bring often do not align with the existing norms of their host nations. Both migrants and hosts know there will be tensions, yet migration continues. When individuals integrate, respect the law, and contribute to society, they become assets, enriching the community with diversity and labor. But when individuals refuse integration, violate laws, or import hostility, they become liabilities. Communities then feel the strain, not because of diversity itself, but because of the failure of the social contract.
This example underscores the principle: individuals and groups alike are measured not by their identity but by whether they choose to act as assets or liabilities. A community loved is one that cultivates assets; a community hated is one that tolerates or multiplies liabilities.
Loved or Hated Communities
Communities, like individuals, carry reputations. A city, a nation, or even a neighborhood can be admired or despised, depending on whether it upholds morality, legality, and responsibility.
A community loved is one that rewards integrity, punishes wrongdoing fairly, and nurtures citizens who contribute positively. These communities are sought out because they provide safety, opportunity, and trust. Outsiders want to live there; insiders feel proud to belong.
A community hated, however, is one where corruption is tolerated, illegality flourishes, and morality is relative. Such communities lose credibility on the world stage. They are shunned, distrusted, or even actively opposed. This hatred is not arbitrary; it is earned by the collapse of responsibility and the multiplication of liabilities.
We can see this in the way some nations struggle with their international image. A government that excuses cartel violence, claiming that illegality exists only because of foreign demand, is seen not as wise but as irresponsible. A society that excuses widespread crime because of cultural differences among migrants is not admired for tolerance but criticized for weakness. Hatred here is not the product of prejudice but of broken trust. Communities, like individuals, are judged by whether they align with right and wrong, uphold legality, and produce assets rather than liabilities.
The True Measure of a Person.
In the end, the measure of humankind is not wealth, intelligence, or cultural identity. It is the ability to live under a moral law greater than one’s desires, to embrace legality as a duty rather than a burden, and to contribute positively to the lives of others.
Individuals who live this way become assets; individuals who do not become liabilities. Communities that nurture such individuals are loved; communities that excuse or multiply liabilities are hated. In fact I personally know of no person that buys groceries with a SNAP card or ever lived with a government hand out. It has never been me and never been friends or family around me. Like attracts like. That’s the only way it goes.
The examples of European migration, Mexican cartels, and most political leadership reveal this truth in stark terms. Migration can enrich or destabilize, depending on whether migrants act as assets or liabilities. Cartels exist only because illegality is tolerated and excused, but their existence proves devastating to communities. Leaders who shift blame rather than enforce responsibility betray the very social contract they are meant to uphold.
The true measure, therefore, is not merely personal but civilizational. When enough individuals choose right over wrong, legality over illegality, and responsibility over recklessness, a community thrives and is loved. When they do not, collapse is inevitable. What measures us, then, is not what we say we value but what we actually practice. The fate of families, nations, and civilizations rests on whether humankind chooses to be an asset or a liability to one another.
So in sum- don’t be that person who shamelessly does the wrong thing. Not now, not ever.
