Legacy Mortality and the Unseen Cost of Wealth
There has been considerable discussion surrounding the recent murder of the UHC CEO, highlighting how, even if people don’t condone murder, many express a lack of empathy toward the incident. Some have even mocked or supported the event. A similar reaction was seen when a group of millionaires and billionaires lost their lives in the OceanGate submersible implosion during their expedition to view the Titanic wreck. These responses reveal a deep-seated resentment toward the ultra-wealthy, to the extent that their deaths—whether accidental or intentional—are being celebrated and, in some cases, justified.
It’s ironic that while humans, especially the wealthy, often strive to be remembered positively long after they’re gone—frequently through acts of altruism—these efforts don’t always guarantee a favorable legacy. In many cases, one might leave behind material wealth for future generations, yet the broader world may not remember them kindly and sometimes may even find relief in their absence. This outcome is undeniably poignant.
We often believe that money can buy life by affording high-quality food or access to health and wellness care that may extend our years. And while this is true to some extent, death operates on its own terms, indifferent to wealth. It can strike without warning, leaving no time to use money as a shield. For instance, the UHC CEO had no idea a gun was pointed at him from behind, and in an instant, his life was gone. No amount of wealth could have bought him another second. Similarly, those who perished in the submersible tragedy could afford the costly ticket to see the Titanic—an experience beyond the reach of most—but even their immense wealth couldn’t protect them from death’s inevitability.
This makes me wonder: is the animosity toward the wealthy rooted in jealousy— the “haves” vs the “have-nots”—or is there something more profound at play? Across cultures, we’ve heard tales of heroes who steal from the rich to give to the poor, but those stories come from an era when the size of the economic “pie” was fixed, and gaining wealth often meant taking it from someone else. Today, the pie can theoretically grow, allowing everyone to have a share.
However, if this isn’t the case, are we still living in a time where the rich are effectively stealing from the poor, perpetuating resentment? To some extent, I believe so. Whether in capitalist nations or authoritarian communist regimes, those in power continue to amass wealth through widespread exploitation. At the same time, I think much of the problem lies in the financial illiteracy of everyday people, who are often misled by popular culture and media. Many unknowingly fall into the traps laid by the rich and powerful, perpetuating this cycle of inequality.
Rich or poor, in the end, we all face the same fate—death. Even if we build grand pyramids or tombs for ourselves, our bodies will decompose and disappear. This raises an important question: how do you want to be remembered after you’re gone, and how will that legacy impact the family you leave behind?
Would you want people to rejoice in your absence and pass their hatred onto your children, all because you prioritized accumulating wealth by exploitation during your lifetime? If the goal is to leave riches for the next generation, it’s worth considering that wealth tainted by a bad reputation might do more harm than good. Your descendants could face resentment, persecution, or even danger due to your actions.
Perhaps it’s better to strive for ambition balanced with integrity—earning enough to live a comfortable life while leaving behind a legacy of goodwill. If not wealth, a good name can serve as a shield for your next generation, sparing them the consequences of wrongdoing. Generational wealth is important, but so are generational deeds and the reputation you build. Both are part of the inheritance you leave behind.