The short answer is, yes. And it is precisely for that reason that loyalty has become one of the most valuable and rare virtues today.
Wherever I look, I notice signs of its absence. I see it in content creators who switch brands every month, treating commitment as if it were just another trend. I see it in couples who confuse desire with love and end up in infidelities that shatter trust. I see it in business partners who one day swear unity and the next betray each other for short-term gain. I see it in employees who leave for the competition for a little extra money. I see it in friends who smile to your face but criticize you behind your back. Even in families where instead of supporting one another, they wound each other with hidden words.
And so I ask myself: why?
At first, I thought perhaps it was a matter of upbringing—that they were never taught what it meant to be loyal. But over time I realized it wasn’t just that. There’s something deeper at play: many people’s inability to control their impulses.
Because most people know disloyalty is wrong. Yet they still do it. And it’s not always because they’re bad people. Many times, it’s because they need to feel valuable, even if it’s at someone else’s expense. It’s a desperate attempt to fill a void.
Society doesn’t help either. We’re constantly bombarded with messages:
- “You need to make more money.”
- “You should be with someone more attractive.”
- “You have to do what benefits you, even if it hurts others.”
And when those messages go unchallenged, they end up justifying the unjustifiable. They make people act as if loyalty were a burden rather than a defining virtue.
I’ve come to the conclusion that disloyalty, in many cases, is born out of insecurity. People who, deep down, don’t feel enough. Who don’t believe they have value simply for who they are, so they chase validation in external things: money, approval, conquests, achievements that may look impressive but are built on sand.
I don’t excuse it. There are no valid justifications for betrayal, for lying, for failing someone who trusted you. What I am saying is that behind many acts of disloyalty there isn’t always pure malice, but rather fragility. A fragility disguised as strength.
That’s why, when I come across someone who is loyal, I pause. I value them. Because I know they are rare, almost scarce. Loyalty is a quiet treasure—it doesn’t make noise, but it holds up relationships, projects, entire lives.
And maybe that’s the lesson: we must protect and cherish those who are loyal, because they are rare. And we must also aspire to be loyal ourselves—even when it’s hard, even when it means going against a society that celebrates immediacy and despises constancy.
The most common root of disloyalty stems not from malice, but from insecurity and mistrust. But understanding its origins doesn’t justify it; it condemns it even more.
-RENE DE PAZ
Let’s turn loyalty into resilience.
The good news is that these signs don’t mean that loyalty has disappeared. Loyalty doesn’t just die out; it’s people who decide to abandon it. Therefore, it’s also in our hands to preserve it.
We can remain loyal. We can make loyalty a personal promise, a firm conviction that there are still values that are not for sale, not for negotiation, and never forgotten.
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