Have you ever thought about the best human quality? And the worst?
Surprisingly, the answer to both is the same — adaptation.
Julian Assange, founder of WikiLeaks, once told journalist John Pilger how he managed to live inside the Ecuadorian Embassy in London for four years — without family and, most importantly, without sunlight — to avoid arrest. His reply was simple: human beings can adapt. And then he added something profound:
“One of the best attributes of human beings is that they’re adaptable; one of the worst attributes of human beings is they are adaptable. They adapt and start to tolerate abuses, they adapt to being involved themselves in abuses, they adapt to adversity and they continue on.”
That’s the paradox. Adaptation can be a blessing and a curse. The difference lies in another human trait — responsibility.
Adaptation Without Responsibility
Responsibility is tricky for humankind. By nature, most people prefer to avoid it. They see it as a burden, something that shackles their freedom. And history shows us that very few step forward to shoulder responsibility for themselves or for society. These few are leaders — inventors, explorers, commanders, activists — the ones who have shaped our modern age.
Those who avoid responsibility often don’t even take command of their own lives. They look for a constant caretaker. As children, it’s their parents. As adults, they want the government to play the same role — not just a welfare provider, but a pampering parent. That never truly happens. And in the meantime, such people are swayed by media hype, propaganda, and marketing traps disguised as lifestyle choices. They don’t understand how the world works — not history, not geography, not finance. They cling to “their subject” and think it’s enough, unaware that in a social ecosystem, such narrow focus leaves them struggling forever.
The Firing Squad Mindset
There’s an old practice in firing squads: seven shooters, but only six rifles have real bullets. The seventh is loaded with just gunpowder. None of the shooters know which is which. When they fire, each can comfort themselves with the thought, maybe I didn’t kill him.
That’s how many people live — avoiding the moral weight of responsibility, hiding in the comfort of plausible deniability.
The Lesson of Cher Ami
Contrast that with the story of Cher Ami, a carrier pigeon during World War I. In October 1918, during the Battle of Argonne, the U.S. 77th Division became trapped behind enemy lines. They were surrounded, running out of food and ammunition, and even being shelled by their own artillery — which didn’t know their location.
After two pigeons sent for help were shot down, only Cher Ami remained. She was released under heavy German fire. Bullets ripped through the air, and Cher Ami was hit — blinded in one eye, shot in the breast, and with one leg hanging by a tendon. Yet she kept flying. She delivered the message that saved the lives of 194 soldiers.
That’s responsibility — pressing forward even when wounded, exhausted, and under fire.
Adaptation as a Cage
Adaptation has made us the dominant species on Earth. But it has also trapped us in cycles we rarely question — school, job, marriage, children, and then repeating the cycle for the next generation. We call it stability. In truth, it’s often self-imposed imprisonment.
Why don’t we challenge the four walls of our comfort zone? Why don’t we revisit the questions we asked as children:
Where do we exist? What is the purpose of life? Are there aliens? What is time?
We dismiss them as “childish” and adapt to the grind. Perhaps that’s why Albert Einstein once said, “I will always be eighteen.” He kept a childlike curiosity — and with it, he transformed humanity’s understanding of the universe.
The Real Prison
Only three kinds of people can be ruled: the ignorant, the confused, and the cowardly. Those who avoid responsibility often belong to one or all of these groups. And when they think they’ve adapted to a life of freedom, they’ve really adapted to a comfortable cage — a self-imposed exile from true freedom.
Adaptation, then, is our greatest gift and our greatest danger. Whether it uplifts us or imprisons us depends entirely on whether we pair it with responsibility.

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