Some people never contribute anything positive to society, they

Hear the sober yet hopeful words of Martin Yan: “Some people never contribute anything positive to society, they may even drain our resources, but most of us try to do something better, to give back.” These words are neither bitter nor cynical; they are spoken with the clarity of one who has seen both the shadows and the light in human behavior. They remind us that not all who walk among us choose to uplift, yet the destiny of the many is to strive, to build, and to return to the world more than we have taken from it.

The truth is clear: there will always be those who fail to give, who live only to consume, who remain blind to the needs of others. These are the ones who burden society, draining rather than nourishing. Yet even as Martin Yan acknowledges their existence, his words turn toward hope—most of us do better. This is the balance of life: though selfishness exists, so too does generosity; though greed drains, compassion replenishes. The weight of human destiny rests not on the few who refuse, but on the many who choose to serve.

To contribute something positive is to fulfill the ancient covenant of life—that no one lives for themselves alone. The ancients taught that the strength of a tribe, a city, a nation, lies in the willingness of each member to uphold the whole. In Rome, the citizens bore civic duty as a sacred responsibility. In Confucian thought, the harmony of the family and community outweighed individual gain. Martin Yan’s wisdom continues this thread, reminding us that to “give back” is not mere charity—it is the foundation of civilization itself.

History bears witness. Consider Florence Nightingale, who could have lived in comfort, yet chose to heal the wounded in war. Her tireless service redefined modern nursing and saved countless lives. In contrast, history also records those rulers and elites who hoarded wealth, drained their people’s labor, and gave nothing in return. The legacies of the two are plain: the selfish are remembered with contempt, while those who gave back are remembered with reverence. This contrast embodies Yan’s insight: we each must choose whether to drain or to uplift.

The greatness of society is found not in monuments or wealth, but in the quiet actions of its people—neighbors who care for one another, citizens who work with integrity, strangers who extend kindness. To contribute something positive is not always grand; it may be as small as a word of encouragement, a shared meal, or a willingness to teach. These seemingly minor acts form the unseen pillars that hold up the world. The one who gives, even in small measure, multiplies the strength of all.

The lesson for us is clear: do not fall into the ranks of those who consume without replenishing, who drain without offering. Instead, seek always to give back, whether through service, compassion, or creativity. Your duty is not only to yourself but to the web of life in which you are bound. To contribute positively is to honor your ancestors, uplift your peers, and prepare a better path for those yet to come.

Practical actions flow from this wisdom. Ask yourself daily: What can I give today? It may be time, it may be effort, it may be knowledge or love. Resist the temptation to retreat into selfishness, and instead open your hands to service. In your work, seek not only gain, but contribution. In your relationships, give kindness more freely than you receive. And in your community, leave behind more than you take. This is how one transforms mere existence into legacy.

So remember Martin Yan’s words: “Some people never contribute anything positive to society… but most of us try to do something better, to give back.” Let this truth strengthen your resolve. Though selfishness will always exist, it is outweighed by the countless acts of goodness performed by those who choose service over self. Be among them. Live so that when your time has passed, the world will say not that you drained it, but that you enriched it, leaving behind light where once there was shadow.