By Johnson Babalola
Over the years, in both my personal and professional journeys, I have encountered people of many different characters. Some have amused me, others have shocked or surprised me. A few have inspired and encouraged me, while others have left me deeply troubled. Some crossed my path only briefly, yet their impact—positive or negative—has remained with me.
This morning, I found myself reflecting on life, on experiences I have personally endured, and on stories shared by others. I began to ask myself difficult questions, especially about behaviours that are negative, toxic, and deeply harmful.
Why are there parents who deliberately mistreat their own children—through neglect, harsh punishments, deprivation, or various forms of verbal, psychological, physical, or financial abuse?
Why do some teachers or tutors use fear, intimidation, exploitation, or manipulation as tools for instruction? What satisfaction comes from deliberately frustrating a student’s progression simply because they refused unethical advances?
Why would a human being intentionally set out to rob, harm, kill, or destroy another for financial gain, political motives, personal vendetta, or any other reason?
What does a spouse or partner—current or former—gain from making the life of the other miserable, rooted in envy, anger, bitterness, falsehoods, or baseless assumptions?
Why would an employer neglect the welfare of their employees, subjecting them to financial, verbal, or psychological abuse?
And why do some employees, unhappy with their roles, choose not to resign but instead remain to undermine their employers’ trust, loyalty, and integrity?
Why do some derive pleasure from visiting others with anger, curses, lies, and unjust accusations?
Why do individuals refuse to acknowledge or appreciate those who have helped them, whether directly or indirectly?
Why do law enforcement officers, judges, religious leaders, civil servants, and others entrusted with authority use their positions to bully, exploit, betray, or take advantage of those they are meant to serve?
Why do leaders, once elected, abandon the promises they made to the electorate and instead deprive the people of the very benefits they swore to deliver?
Why do people use others merely as a means to an end and walk away afterwards without remorse?
Why do some condemn or speak ill of people they have never met or interacted with, relying solely on biased, unproven, or undocumented claims?
Why do we, as a society, so often fail to guide parents, friends, colleagues, employers, and employees who are behaving badly—sometimes even encouraging their behaviour through silence, indifference, or support?
And perhaps one of the most troubling questions yet: why do some people make fun of those who are suffering—those dealing with loss, disability, barreness, medical battles, or financial hardship—things that could happen to any of us at any time?
What joy is found in mocking the vulnerable? What pride is there in ridiculing another person’s pain? What human heart celebrates what should instead evoke compassion, humility, and restraint?
There are many more such questions, and still, I admit that I have no answers. Professionals, religious leaders, psychologists, and scholars may offer explanations from spiritual, medical, political, academic, cultural, or economic perspectives, yet the behaviours persist.
A client said to me last week:
“Sir, I wish we could simply appreciate each other, respect each other, fulfil our promises with love, and surround ourselves with reasonable advisers—not those who encourage us in our wrong behaviours.”
I fully agree with him.
History—written and unwritten—is filled with examples of people who displayed the exact behaviours mentioned here. Though they often enjoyed temporary gratification or a fleeting sense of triumph, their actions eventually caught up with them. Harmful character is always short-lived in its reward, but long-lasting in its consequences.
To those who take pleasure in exhibiting these harmful behaviours—whether it is cruelty, deception, exploitation, betrayal, intimidation, mockery, ridicule, or even the habit of adopting a “winner-takes-all” attitude that shows no regard for others who contributed to the success of a project, event, or occasion—I say this with sincerity: desist while you still can. Understand that the satisfaction is brief, the consequences are inevitable, and the legacy you are building is one that will not serve you, your children, or those connected to you. There is always room to change course.
To the victims—those on the receiving end of these acts—I offer these words: seek safety, create distance where necessary, reclaim your freedom, and never feel guilty for protecting your peace. Know that with perseverance, time, healing, and the right support, you can rise above the harm done to you. What was meant to break you does not have to define you.
In all things, may we choose character over ego, humanity over cruelty, and growth over destruction—for ourselves, and for those whose paths cross ours.
Johnson Babalola is a Canadian lawyer.
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