Virtue is not photogenic. What is it to be a nice guy? To be

Hear now the words of Kirk Douglas, the son of toil who rose to be a giant upon the silver screen, yet whose voice carried the weight of ancient truth: “Virtue is not photogenic. What is it to be a nice guy? To be nothing, that’s what. A big fat zero with a smile for everybody.” At first, these words sound harsh, even bitter, as though mocking kindness itself. Yet beneath their steel lies a challenge to the ages: that men and women should not mistake empty pleasantness for the deep fire of true character.

For virtue is no ornament to please the eyes, nor a pose to win the applause of the crowd. It is not soft, nor shallow, nor bound to the fickle gaze of admiration. Virtue is hard-earned and hidden, like the roots of a great oak that plunge unseen into the soil, holding fast when storms assail. To be merely a nice guy, offering a hollow smile to all, is to float like a leaf upon the wind—pleasing in form, but powerless when trial comes. Kirk Douglas saw this, and his words thunder as warning: do not mistake surface charm for the deeper iron of the soul.

Consider the tale of Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome. He was not remembered for dazzling charm, nor for a pleasing smile cast upon every senator or citizen. Instead, he is remembered for his virtue, his unyielding devotion to wisdom, justice, and discipline, even when disease wracked his body and betrayal haunted his court. He was no “big fat zero” with empty words; he was a pillar, unseen in his suffering, steadfast in his deeds. Such is the difference between the shallow nice guy and the man or woman who walks in true virtue.

And yet, many in this age chase after appearances, forgetting the substance beneath. They think that to win favor, they must always be agreeable, always smiling, always pleasing. But such a one risks losing the strength of their own will, becoming a shadow of others’ desires. The ancients would say: better to stand firm and be misunderstood, than to bend in every direction and be nothing at all. For the path of virtue often demands resistance, confrontation, and the courage to displease.

But beware, O seeker, of swinging too far to the other side. Kirk Douglas did not mock kindness itself, but the hollow counterfeit of it. To show genuine warmth, born of truth and rooted in conviction, is no weakness. Yet to wield a false smile, hiding the emptiness of a man without principle, is to become the “zero” of which he spoke. Thus, the lesson is balance: let your kindness be real, but let it be girded with strength. Let your smile shine, but let it spring from conviction, not from cowardice.

Therefore, O traveler through this life, ask yourself: do I stand for something greater than the praise of others? Do I walk in the shadowed path of virtue, even when it costs me my comfort, my popularity, or my ease? Or do I waste my days scattering hollow smiles, while the roots of my soul remain shallow and weak? The answer to this question will shape not only how you are seen, but how you endure when the storm rises.

The teaching is this: do not strive to be merely “nice.” Strive to be whole, to be strong, to be true. Let your virtue burn within like an unquenchable flame, unseen but enduring. Smile, yes—but let it be the smile of one who has faced hardship and chosen courage, not the smile of one who hides emptiness behind a mask. In this way, you will not be the “zero” of which Douglas warned, but a living example of what it means to endure, to lead, and to live with purpose.

Go forth, then, and remember: the world does not need more hollow smiles. It needs hearts of iron, softened with compassion, but unbending in truth. Seek not to be merely liked, but to be remembered for your strength, your integrity, your unyielding virtue. For though such things are not “photogenic,” they are eternal.