It’s the thing the nihilists hate the most.

Are you old enough to remember when the people at the tops of their fields were defined by raw talent, grit, and their relentless pursuit of greatness? 

People used to compete fiercely for what they wanted.

They were often propelled by nothing but their own hard work and determination.

Winners stood on podiums because they earned their places there—not because of leg-ups they received based on their perceived disadvantages.

But somewhere along the way, we got lost.

Instead of celebrating excellence, we started obsessing over making sure everyone felt included—even if it meant lowering the bar.

The supposed good intentions behind this shift have led to some pretty terrible outcomes.

In the corporate world, we’re watching companies implement hiring quotas and diversity mandates that prioritize representation over qualification. The result? Businesses that are less competitive, less innovative, and—let’s be honest—less successful.

When “fairness” trumps merit, you end up with a boardroom that looks great in a PR photo but can’t actually steer the ship.

Even in art, the relentless push for inclusivity has led to “success” that prioritize message over mastery.

We’ve swapped beauty and talent for box-ticking.

Who the artist is somehow came to matter more than what they had created.

The real power of art lies in its ability to move us and challenge us—not just tell us that the artist deserves a “place at the table”.

This cancer of feelings and identity over talent and merit is certainly leaving its mark in sports, where the spirit of competition is drowning in a sea of participation trophies.

Sure, everyone likes a pat on the back, but sports were never about just showing up. It was about pushing limits, achieving greatness, and learning from failure.

Even the Olympics, once the ultimate meritocracy, is caught up in the mess.

The debates about inclusivity are raising questions about the very nature of competition and fairness. If things don’t change, it’s easy to imagine a future—maybe as soon as the next Olympics—where actual competition is dead and gone.

We don’t seem to be far off from a time when women will simply choose not to compete due to safety concerns, or where those incredible stories of athletes rising from tough beginnings disappear—replaced instead by narratives of people elevated simply because of their skin color, gender ideology, or whichever intersectional “disadvantaged” status they’ve been assigned.

These troubling trends are exactly what inspired us to write The Tuttle Twins and the Medals of Merit.

We wanted to teach kids the importance of recognizing the value of talent, hard work, perseverance, and even failure.

It’s an introduction for kids today to a time-tested truth they likely won’t encounter in pop culture, media, or school:

Merit matters.

Achieving greatness shouldn’t have anything to do with where you did or didn’t come from. It should always be attained through hard work and determination. 

This is the kind of world we want for our kids—a world where they can dream big, strive for greatness, and actually get rewarded for their efforts. 

The knowledge that their wildest dreams were within their reach if they just worked hard and got up every time they failed is what led to the greatest achievements and discoveries the world has ever seen.

But right now, we’re at risk of losing our future to people who have never done anything great. People who resent the “up by the bootstraps” grit that once defined the greatest among us. 

If we don’t teach our kids that hard work and talent deserve to be celebrated, not sidelined, they will be indoctrinated into the nihilistic worldview of those who control the narrative. 

And I know you’re with me when I say that I am simply unwilling to let that happen.

Medals of Merit launches soon. I think you’re gonna love it. 

— Connor