After spending over 15 years reporting in these worlds and

The words of Mariana van Zeller—“After spending over 15 years reporting in these worlds and getting to meet these traffickers, drug dealers, and other people that are really stereotyped in our society, I've come to realize the uncomfortable truth that most are not very different from us.”—shine a harsh and unsettling light upon the human condition. She speaks not from books or ivory towers, but from years in the shadows, face to face with those whom society calls criminals, predators, and outcasts. Her revelation is not one of excusing evil, but of recognizing its root: that these figures, so feared and demonized, are still human, driven by hunger, fear, ambition, and desperation—the same forces that shape us all.

The ancients knew this truth and warned of it often. They taught that the line between good and evil does not run between groups of people, but through every human heart. To dehumanize others as monsters is comforting, for it separates “us” from “them.” But van Zeller tears away this illusion: “most are not very different from us.” Their paths diverged, often through poverty, neglect, oppression, or circumstance, but their humanity remains. The difference lies not in their nature, but in the choices offered to them, the doors closed or opened, the justice denied or bestowed.

History itself testifies to this. Consider the story of Jean Valjean, immortalized in Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. Though a fictional tale, it mirrors countless real lives. Valjean, imprisoned for stealing bread to feed his family, is branded a criminal, hunted, and despised. Yet when shown mercy, he becomes a man of virtue, kindness, and sacrifice. Hugo’s parable echoes van Zeller’s observation: that those branded as villains are often ordinary souls twisted by circumstance, and that beneath the crime still beats the heart of a human being.

Van Zeller’s words are born from direct encounter. For more than fifteen years, she sat with traffickers, drug dealers, and outcasts, listening not only to what they did but why they did it. She discovered that many sought power because they had lived powerless lives, that many sought wealth because they had lived in poverty, that many inflicted harm because harm had been inflicted upon them. Their choices, though destructive, were responses to wounds familiar to us all. In this way, her journeys reveal the truth that empathy, even toward those we fear, is not weakness but wisdom.

This teaching carries both danger and hope. The danger lies in misunderstanding it as excusing evil. To say that the trafficker is “not very different from us” is not to deny the suffering they cause. But the hope lies in realizing that if their humanity remains, then redemption is not impossible. If they are like us, then they can change as we do. If they are like us, then perhaps society can address the roots that drive men and women to crime: inequality, corruption, exclusion, and despair.

The lesson for us is clear: never lose sight of the humanity in others, even in those who walk dark paths. For when we forget their humanity, we risk losing our own. To see criminals only as beasts is to abandon compassion, and in doing so, we harden our hearts to the possibility of justice that restores, not just punishes. This does not mean denying accountability, but it means seeking solutions that heal society rather than merely cast out its broken parts.

Practically, this means addressing the roots of crime as much as the crimes themselves. Support education, opportunity, and inclusion so that fewer walk the desperate roads that lead to violence and trafficking. Speak against the easy stereotypes that reduce complex human beings to caricatures of evil. And above all, remember that dignity belongs to all, even those who have fallen furthest. By doing so, we do not excuse wrongdoing, but we sow the seeds of a society where fewer are driven to it in the first place.

Thus, Mariana van Zeller’s words remain as both revelation and warning: “Most are not very different from us.” Let us take this truth into our hearts, not to soften justice, but to strengthen wisdom. For when we see the humanity even in the darkest corners, we gain not only understanding of others, but also the courage to build a society where the shadows no longer claim so many of our brothers and sisters. In remembering their likeness to us, we preserve the best within ourselves.