Why They'll Talk (and Lie) About You (And Why You Might Want Them To)

Ever scrolled through social media and seen a successful entrepreneur, artist, or public figure getting absolutely dragged through the mud? Ever wondered why the vitriol seems to ramp up the higher someone climbs?

Well, turn-of-the-century orator Russell Conwell, famous for his "Acres of Diamonds" speech, had some scorching takes on this very human tendency. And let me tell you, his words from over a hundred years ago land with the subtlety of a dropped anvil, even today.

The Green-Eyed Monster Has a Megaphone

Picture this: a young man approaches Conwell, perplexed. "If Mr. Rockefeller," he muses, "is a good man, as you believe, why is he so universally slammed?"

Conwell's reply is brutally, refreshingly honest: "It is because he has gotten ahead of us; that is the whole of it—just gotten ahead of us."

Mic. Drop.

It doesn't stop there. Carnegies? Rockefellers? Gates? Zuckerbergs? Musks? Ambanis? Jack Mas? So many of the world face the same verdict.

Same deal. "Why is it that Mr. Rich is criticized so sharply by an envious world? Because he has gotten more than we have."

Conwell paints a picture we all instinctively recognize. The preacher with thousands in his congregation will inevitably be picked apart by the one struggling to keep fifteen parishioners awake. The scholar with groundbreaking insights? Eyed suspiciously by those who feel their own knowledge eclipsed. It's a human default, apparently: if you're ahead, you're a target.

Your Net Worth vs. Your "Worth": Conwell's Gilded Cage Logic

Now, here's where Conwell really leans in, and it's a statement that would set modern discourse ablaze. He flatly states that the man with "one hundred millions" and the man with "fifty cents" "both of you have just what you are worth."

Hold on, let that sink in. In Conwell's framework, at least in this fiery declaration, your material wealth is a direct reflection of your intrinsic value or output. It's a stark, almost brutal capitalist meritocracy distilled into a single sentence. While many today would (rightly) argue about systemic factors, opportunity, and the multifaceted nature of human "worth," Conwell, speaking in his era, wasn't mincing words. For him, the scoreboard was clear.

The Price of Admission: A Hundred Million Lies

But what if you are that wildly successful individual? Conwell shares an anecdote that's both chilling and darkly amusing. A very rich man, tormented by "lies about my family in the papers," asks Conwell for his take on public opinion.

Conwell, ever the straight-shooter, tells him, "Well... they think you are the blackest hearted villain that ever trod the soil!"

The rich man is aghast. "What can I do about it?"

Conwell's response? Essentially: nothing. And then comes the kicker. Conwell offers a devil's bargain: "If you will give me your check for one hundred millions, I will take all the lies along with it."

His point is razor-sharp: "If you get a hundred millions you will have the lies; you will be lied about, and you can judge your success in any line by the lies that are told about you."

Think about that. Lies as a metric of success. The more outlandish the fabrications, the more you've apparently "made it." It's a twisted kind of validation, suggesting that significant achievement inevitably breeds significant opposition, often fueled by falsehoods.

The Audacity of Ambition: "You Ought to Be Rich"

And just when you think he's done, Conwell lands his final, most provocative assertion: "I say that you ought to be rich."

Not "it's okay to be rich." Not "strive for comfort." But you ought to be. In Conwell's worldview, ambition isn't just permissible; it's practically a moral imperative. And the slander, the criticism, the outright lies? They're just the inevitable, unpleasant static you encounter when you dare to tune into the frequency of high achievement.

So, What's the Modern Read?

Is Conwell's perspective outdated, a relic of the Gilded Age? Or does it tap into an uncomfortable, timeless truth about human nature and the path to success?

In an age of online call-out culture, cancel culture, and the relentless scrutiny of public figures (and even private citizens who achieve a modicum of success), Conwell's words feel surprisingly relevant. The platforms have changed, but the psychology? Perhaps not so much.

Maybe the takeaway isn't that we should all become robber barons. But perhaps it's a reminder that if you're pushing boundaries, achieving something noteworthy, or simply "getting ahead," you should expect some noise. Some of it might be valid criticism. Some of it, as Conwell bluntly puts it, will be envy. And some of it will be pure fiction.

The question Conwell leaves us with is: Is the prize worth the price of admission? For him, the answer was a resounding "yes."

What do you think? Is criticism an inevitable tax on success? Is Conwell's view too simplistic for our complex world, or does it hit closer to home than we'd like to admit?

Share your thoughts in the comments below!