Through my frameworks and life philosophy, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it actually means to be good. And truthfully, defining goodness isn’t easy, because humanity itself doesn’t have a concrete definition.
Look up the word goodness in the dictionary and you’ll get: “the quality of being morally good or virtuous.”
Seems arbitrary—and totally open to interpretation. An entirely circular definition.
Then look up good, and it gets worse: “to be desired or approved of.”
That can’t be right.
There are plenty of people who are desired and approved of by millions, but are far from what most would consider good. Think Jeffrey Dahmer, Pablo Escobar, Stalin—figures whose actions led to the death of dozens, hundreds, even millions… and yet, they’ve all had cult followings.
They’ve been admired, romanticized, or at the very least, consumed with obsessive interest.
So how can we equate goodness with approval?
That question led me to a much larger one: What if no one really knows what it means to be good?
In a world that feels more complex and morally gray than ever, that’s a tragic thought. People often say “there’s no such thing as universal truth,” but even with basic deduction, I think we can land on a few characteristics of goodness that are nearly impossible to refute.
Committing to a faith, following rules, being nice, staying innocent, doing noble deeds… these might be your default ideas of goodness. And sure—they can shape your values.
But in a logical universe, arbitrary rules don’t hold much weight. Cause and effect do.
So if we were to break down goodness using logic, what would it actually look like?
Let’s walk through it step-by-step.
Defining Goodness, Logically
First, let’s look at the opposite of goodness—not to define what it is, but to rule out what it is not.
We often think of evil as its own powerful force. But logically, evil can be defined as the absence of good, just as darkness is the absence of light.
Evil doesn’t need to be active to be real. It can take many forms—sometimes loud and direct, like destruction; but it’s mostly quiet, like neglect, silence, or inaction when good is needed.
But even destruction requires something good to destroy in order to be evil.
Evil is fully dependent on good.
Goodness, however, is not the absence of evil. It’s not passive, and it’s not about what you avoid.
Goodness is a force of creation, and it can be measured.
Goodness isn’t just about avoiding harm. It’s about doing what you can in a world that desperately needs it.
While evil drains or destroys, goodness builds.
Goodness is action. Goodness is construction.
It’s the effort to create a world better suited for life to grow and flourish. Even in the tiniest, most seemingly insignificant ways.
Goodness Is Both Proportional and Scalable
That said, let’s do a quick thought experiment. Say someone with a low income gives 50% of their salary to people in need.
That’s incredibly noble.
Now picture a millionaire who donates just 0.001% of their income. Most of us would agree: not so noble by comparison. We know this.
But what about a millionaire who gives 50% of their income? Are they doing more good than the low-income individual?
Of course, the millionaire still has far more left over after donating 50%, while the low-income citizen may be sacrificing basic needs. So even though their percentages match, the personal cost is wildly different.
In fact, the low-income individuals’ deed may border on self-harm.
And ultimately, if both are giving generously relative to their means, the one who has scaled their impact further is still, undeniably, doing more good.
The millionaire’s contribution has a much greater impact. And in a logical universe, impact matters. Goodness isn’t just about intent. It’s about outcomes.
This brings us to a deeper question: Is working toward gaining the capacity to help others in a significant way our moral responsibility?
The more capable you become, the more good you’re able to do. Which means your choice not to grow limits your ability to contribute.
Personally, I believe the answer is yes. But I’d love to know what you think—leave a comment and let’s discuss.
What Led Me to this Idea?
The idea of proportional goodness came to me a few weeks ago when my mother, a struggling teacher, saw a woman sitting on the street with her three babies, begging for food.
My mom scrambled around town, trying to buy everything she could for them… but in the end, it amounted to a few juice boxes and snacks.
It was a noble act. But it was troubling to know it would only last them one afternoon. They’d continue to struggle after that, and probably still do.
So it got me thinking: What if we were an affluent family? What if I’d already launched my food truck business? I could’ve bought this woman a gym membership so she could get cleaned up and find work. Or better… what if I could’ve offered her a job?
She could be in a safer place with her children right now. And maybe one day, she’d work to help other mothers off the street.
Helping others roots us all in purpose. A reason to be here.
If we all had already achieved our dreams by the next time we met someone in need, imagine how much more we could do for them.
We could collectively improve society, by building each other up.
It may sound like a naïve dream. But I know so many noble people who simply don’t have the power to help the way they’d like to. And that’s a damn shame.
So perhaps… striving for success is a moral obligation.
By not living up to our true potential and purpose, we may be failing those we were meant to help. And inaction, when it comes to human potential, can be just as destructive as intentional harm.
A bold statement, but one I’m starting to believe in more and more each day.
Self-Improvement: Vanity or Moral Responsibility?
Self-improvement can absolutely be rooted in vanity—especially when it’s all about sports cars, designer handbags, or building a lifestyle to impress others.
But it doesn’t have to be that way.
The truth is, many of the world’s millionaires and billionaires achieved success through extreme selfishness. And for some of them, charity is more of a tax strategy than a mission.
So is this world set up for good-hearted people to prosper? Maybe not.
And once someone starts earning real money, they’re unlikely to pause, reflect, and ask, “Is it time to give back?” Most just keep going. The system rewards accumulation, not contribution. That’s why, realistically, goodness is extremely difficult to scale.
Still, mission-led businesses, nonprofits, and companies that gain more by giving back have proven that scalable goodness is possible. It just takes intentional effort, and often, creative thinking.
So maybe it’s not that a person can’t be wealthy and noble. Perhaps, they just don’t want to put in the effort to do both.
Purpose + Contribution: Conquerors of Evil
Achieving success is already hard. Reworking that success to also lift others up? Most people don’t even try.
But if there is a way to do so, then choosing not to might be more than just selfish. When following this train of logic, it might actually be viewed as an inadvertent form of evil. Especially if it takes you away from your purpose. And especially in a world with astronomical poverty and hunger gaps.
Just think about this: A single billionaire could end global starvation for a year and still live like royalty. The power is there. The good is not. That’s what makes it perverse.
I believe we should all be working toward a future in which we can do more—for ourselves, our families, and others. Because every person on this Earth deserves the opportunity to grow, contribute, and feel worthy.
And that includes you.
There’s nothing vain about supporting, uplifting, and enriching the person who needs you most: yourself.
So no, self-improvement is never vanity in and of itself. Not when it’s rooted in purpose. Not when it’s driven by contribution.
In a Logical Universe, Goodness = Contribution
You may have noticed a theme throughout this argument: Goodness, in a logical universe, is never passive. It always begins with action, construction, and service.
Doing nothing good but nothing wrong? It isn’t just “not good enough.” It’s the absence of good.
This makes it, in effect, a quiet act of destruction—even if it’s only the destruction of your own potential to help yourself and others.
Have you ever asked yourself, “What am I doing here? What is my purpose?”
Here’s my answer: You are meant to contribute. To society, to others, to something beyond yourself.
And it doesn’t have to be dramatic. The smile you give your neighbor after a hard day, the coworker you let crash at your place, the puppy you adopted.
None of those individuals would’ve received what they needed, exactly when they needed it, had it not been for you.
That alone is enough to humble anyone.
What Kind of Person Do You Want to Become?
I know what it’s like to give up on my purpose and potential.
For a long time I settled, thinking, “What’s wrong with someone just working a 9–5 and keeping to themselves?”
It’s hard to argue with that. But over time, my reality forced me to reconsider.
Living that way, I fell into a deep depression. I wasn’t helping anyone—not strangers, not myself, not even the people I loved.
So what was the point? Why even carry out my life here on Earth at all?
The Role of Adlerian Philosophy
That thought lingered—marinating, stinging—for months. Until I came across a book that changed everything: The Courage to Be Disliked by Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga.
It hit me with a kind of tough love I’d never encountered before: cold, rational, painfully logical… and exactly what I needed.
The book introduces an Adlerian approach to meaning.
According to revolutionary psychologist Alfred Adler, our purpose on Earth is simple: to contribute to society. The more we help others, the happier, more fulfilled, and more confident we become.
At the time, I was the opposite of those three things: depressed, empty, and insecure. So the message hit like a slap in the face.
But it woke me up.
I realized I’d been selfish. Not just toward others, but toward myself. I needed myself more than anyone else did, and I’d let myself down.
I’d abandoned the person I could’ve become in favor of a sad, lonely version of myself. I was a shell.
And that’s what introduced me not just to my idea of goodness, but to philosophy itself. It gave me a mission: to create, grow, and through this—help others in any way I can.
So now I’ll ask you: What kind of person do you want to become?
Are you building toward a version of yourself that can help others at scale, aligning your life with logic?
Or are you just coasting through life?
If this universe is built for creation, growth, and contribution, then maybe the question isn’t “Am I a good person?”
It’s: “How much more good could I be doing… if I offered the world my unique skills and perspective in ways only I can?”
That’s an answer worth living for.