Imagine a girl returning to her hometown after several years. Her father arranges a gathering, inviting relatives and old family friends.
During the party, she notices a boy behaving rudely. He seems awkward, speaks without consideration and appears unable to conduct himself properly in a social gathering.
She whispers to her friends, “Look at that guy. Doesn't he know how to behave?”
A little later, her father approaches her with the boy.
“Do you recognize him? You two used to play together when you were children. He is your cousin.”
Suddenly, her expression changes.
“Oh! Yes, I remember you. How are you, little brother?”
And just like that, the conversation begins.
But what actually changed?
The boy's behavior remained the same. His mannerisms remained the same. Even the incident that had prompted her criticism remained the same.
Only the relationship attached to him had changed. And with it, her perception.
This is how much of our respect system works.
We rarely examine a person independently of the identity society has assigned to them. A stranger behaving rudely is ill-mannered. A relative behaving rudely might be excused as someone who is simply like that.
The same person receives a different judgment because the relationship changes the meaning we attach to his behavior.
We Learn Respect Before We Learn to Question It
Think about childhood.
We are often instructed to touch the feet of elders when we meet them. We follow the ritual because our parents tell us to. It becomes a sign of good upbringing, obedience and humility.
But how often are children encouraged to ask why?
Does age automatically make someone wise? Does being a relative make someone worthy of admiration? Does occupying a particular position make someone morally superior?
The questions rarely matter. The ritual matters.
Eventually, we grow up and replace family elders with more influential figures. We begin admiring billionaires, celebrities, politicians and public personalities.
The names change, but the conditioning remains.
Now, we admire Elon Musk, Ambani, Adani or whoever happens to dominate public attention. We often mistake visibility for importance, wealth for wisdom and influence for worth.
We may believe that we have chosen our own idols. But have we really examined them, or have we simply inherited society's definition of greatness?
The Political Hero and the Ego
Consider politics.
When people become frustrated with an existing government, they begin searching for an alternative. They protest, criticize those in power and demand change.
Fair enough. Questioning authority is necessary.
But look at what happens when the opposition finally comes to power.
Sometimes, the new rulers begin displaying the same tendencies that people once condemned. Their supporters then find themselves defending actions they would previously have criticized.
The questions asked of the old government are now asked of the new one. The slogans change, the faces change, but the cycle continues.
Take the satirical label CJP - Cockroach Janta Party, for example. Imagine a disillusioned voter using it to express frustration with the government of the day. The label may capture genuine anger, but anger alone does not guarantee independent thinking.
The real question is not whether one government deserves to be replaced. It is whether we are willing to question the next one with the same intensity.
Because the ego enjoys the arrival of a new hero.
It feels that its side has won. Its beliefs have been validated. Its identity has become stronger.
When the hero succeeds, the supporter experiences the victory almost as a personal achievement. The hero's success becomes the ego's success.
And when that hero disappoints, the ego does not necessarily question its own habit of hero worship. It searches for another hero.
The cycle begins again.
We change the person we worship without questioning the need to worship someone.
What Kind of Respect Is Worth Having?
Perhaps the problem is not respect itself, but the dogma surrounding it.
We are taught whom to respect based on age, relationships, wealth, authority and social acceptance. Rarely do we stop to examine whether these people help us understand ourselves more clearly.
What if the person we admire makes us question our unnecessary consumption instead of encouraging us to buy more?
What if they challenge our need for social approval rather than teaching us how to become more respectable in society's eyes?
What if their presence makes us question our prejudices, our attachments and our carefully protected identities?
Such a person may not always make us comfortable. They may not flatter our beliefs or confirm that we are right.
But perhaps that discomfort is more valuable than the satisfaction of belonging to a group, following a hero or preserving an identity.
The ego wants preservation. It wants its beliefs protected, its choices justified and its importance reinforced.
Anything that threatens this structure becomes an enemy. Anything that strengthens it becomes worthy of admiration.
So, before deciding whom to respect, perhaps we should ask a different question:
Does this person help me see through my ego or do they simply give my ego another reason to exist?
The first may lead towards self-dissolution. The second merely strengthens self-preservation.
And perhaps that is where the real distinction lies.
Not between whom society tells us to respect and whom it tells us to disrespect.
But between those who help us question the self we have constructed and those who help us preserve it.
Stop asking whom you should respect. Start asking what your respect is protecting.