Proposing a new measure of success?

Money? Really?

As a student of economics and political science, I’ve long viewed money in a rather deterministic way. I used to think of it as a near-perfect gauge of a person’s success. While I’m aware this perspective has obvious flaws, it’s hard to deny that money remains a widely accepted, if imperfect, marker of “achievement” in our society. One of the great ironies is that despite money’s importance in social and private settings, it’s usually taught later in most economics curricula, suggesting its complexity and the necessity for prior foundational knowledge.

Money can be considered one of humanity’s most ambitious forms of technology—a vast system of trust that operates on a massive scale. Almost everything we do is somehow tied to this trust, from daily transactions to large-scale business deals. But how often do we pause and question whether this system of trust is always aligned with genuine “value”?

In contemporary society, not “making money” can label you as naive or clueless about “how the world works.” This sentiment can be especially disheartening for those who are in socially unconventional stages of their careers—perhaps starting late, switching professions, or pursuing a dream that doesn’t pay well. In such circumstances, money often overshadows other forms of accomplishment or fulfillment.

One of the central economic beliefs is that more revenue or profit implies greater value provided to society. A businesswoman who employs thousands of people and makes millions in profit is seen as offering tremendous value. By contrast, a philosopher or an artist, whose direct economic contribution may be smaller, is often perceived as offering less value. But is that really the case? Does the philosopher contribute nothing of worth simply because society is less willing (or slower) to pay for his ideas?

We run into an apples-and-oranges comparison when trying to quantify all forms of societal contribution in terms of money alone. Yes, if more people buy a product, it suggests they find it beneficial. Yet, intangible or less popular ideas and cultural contributions—think of deep philosophy, emerging art forms, or underfunded scientific research—may enrich the world in profound ways that aren’t immediately obvious or commercially lucrative.

This begs the question: What if society doesn’t recognize the value of certain endeavors until long after their creators have struggled or disappeared? We know of countless stories: artists who died penniless only for their work to be celebrated decades later. This phenomenon exposes a gap in how we ascribe “value,” often overlooking those who aren’t in the top income bracket but still contribute meaningfully to culture, thought, or human progress.

Ultimately, the problem seems to be the conflation of social value with monetary reward. If we rely solely on money as an indicator of social standing, we may dismiss significant contributions that don’t come with a big price tag. Perhaps we, as a society, need a parallel metric that accounts for intangible contributions—one that recognizes thinkers, writers, caregivers, volunteers, and visionaries who aren’t necessarily raking in profits but are offering something essential to our collective well-being.

In writing this, I’m reflecting on my own biases and education, trying to unravel the complex knot that is money and social value. By disentangling them, we may start to see success not simply as a dollar figure, but as a tapestry of contributions—some material, some intangible. Maybe this shift in perspective can help us build a more inclusive society that values all forms of meaningful work, rather than elevating only those who reap high profits.

Source for Image: Google Images

NOTE: The essay has been conceptualised and written by me. I have taken help with respect to the language, editing and para phrasing from ChatGPT.

P.s. I don’t have money to hire an Editor