“Did you read them?” a friend awaiting sentencing asked after sending me fifteen Rockefeller quotes last month.
“Thank you for sending them. Yes, I did,” I told him. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
What did you do yesterday, last week, last month?”
He paused, then said, “Here we go.”
He knew where I was going.
And I knew he hadn’t done much.
It was clear: he was quoting his way through the storm, not acting his way through it.
It reminded me of something Michael Santos once told me in prison:
“Some people use philosophy to change. Others use it to stall.”
The difference isn’t what they believe. It’s whether they move and get going, as cliché as that sounds.
That quote, “Action solves everything”, means nothing unless you understand who Rockefeller was and what it cost him to live those words.
John D. Rockefeller was a builder. He was loathed and despised by millions, as most creators and innovators are.
Musk, Bezos, Galt. Despised by millions.
By 31, Rockefeller controlled one of the world’s largest oil refineries.
By the age of 40, he controlled 90% of the U.S. oil supply.
And for that, he was hated.
The New York World described him as:
“The most hated man in America.”
Ida Tarbell, the investigative journalist who spent years trying to destroy his reputation, wrote Standard Oil:
“A money-making machine, crushing competitors, corrupting legislatures, and choking the life out of business.”
President Theodore Roosevelt described Rockefeller’s power as:
“A menace to the Republic.”
He was called greedy, manipulative, unethical, even though much of what he did was legal.
He wasn’t hated for building.
He was hated for producing.
He kept going anyway.
That’s what reminded me of Atlas Shrugged and The Prince.
Two novels that disturb people.
One defends creation.
One defends power.
Neither asks for sympathy nor your approval.
They tell the truth. Whether you like it or not.
People hated Galt not because they misunderstood him–they hated him because he revealed how dependent they were.
People reject Machiavelli because The Prince strips the pretense away from power. It doesn’t moralize, it clarifies. And clarification scares people who prefer to rationalize. (Rationalization feels better because it allows excuses. It’s never your fault. You’re the victim.)
In the early stages of a government investigation, defendants rationalize. I sure did, and it started years before I got into real trouble. They want stakeholders to see the good they’ve done. They insist they didn’t have bad intentions, or, as I hear a lot, “I’ve never had a parking ticket and no other trouble with the law. It doesn’t seem fair they’re going after me for this.”
Rockefeller, Robert Greene (next week’s newsletter), Machiavelli, Michael Santos, and other thinkers would tell you to show strength and work to control the government’s narrative by putting yourself in their shoes. You achieve this by accepting reality, building, and taking daily, incremental action, not by quoting clichés and doing nothing.
Taking action is hard. That’s why it’s easier to talk about it. And it’s easy to find reasons not to act, to rationalize.
I’m writing this at 4:30 am on June 26th. In 90 minutes, I’m supposed to run two miles with my daughter.
“Alyssa, are you sure you want to run?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’m not waking you up. I’m out the door at 6 am. No pressure.”
“I said I’m going to do it, and I am.”
“10-4, proud of you!”
I admire the commitment, the plan, but will she follow through? The clock is ticking.
Are you prepared to follow through or just talk about it?
It’s easier, at first, to stay quiet, like James Taggart. Sit on the sidelines. Blame others. Resent those who try to build a plan or hold that lawyer accountable.
It’s easier to say, “Despite a BOP memo stressing the importance of a release plan, no case manager is going to read it, so why try?”
That’s the dividing line I’ve seen since I surrendered to prison on April 28, 2008.
Some people act, despite the consequences.
Some people wait, hoping things will work out.
We’ve explored that distinction across every thinker we’ve studied in our community, whether it’s Montaigne tracking his flaws in daily journals, or the prisoner in Plato’s cave risking blindness to see what’s real.
Those aren’t abstract references meant to impress you. They’re reminders:
If you fail to act, to create, to build, to embrace your reality, the government will write your life story. That thought sickens me. And it should sicken you.
“What are you doing today?” I asked Michael yesterday.
“Same thing I did in prison for 26 years. I’m going to stare at this wall and think about what I’m going to create today.”
Then he does it. Every day.
I shared those same thoughts in our newsletter on Locke’s Tabula Rasa, or “Blank Slate.”
A blank slate doesn’t matter unless you write something new on it.
And writing something new isn’t a mindset.
It’s a discipline.
It requires daily, incremental action.
It’s not “intention.”
It’s doing the actual work.
That’s what Rockefeller understood.
That’s what Machiavelli understood.
That’s what Galt and Michael embody.
And it’s what most defendants delay until it’s too late: doing the damn work.
A judge isn’t sentencing you based on “intentions.”
I intended to start at USC, only to realize about 12 minutes into fall ball in 1993 that I was too slow, didn’t hit with enough power, and lacked the arm strength to play third base at a top-10 program.
I’ve got 10 more years in this game till I’m 60.
Between now and then, I expect I’ll hear “These were my intentions” just as often as I’ll listen to my kids say, “Can I watch Mr. Beast on YouTube? And by the way, he has more subscribers than you.”
You’re getting judged (or scored) on your actions.
Back to Rockefeller, he was condemned, investigated, and blamed.
But he never stopped building.
So when he said:
“Action solves everything.”
It wasn’t a quote or throwaway line on a business card.
It was a challenge.
If you’re preparing for sentencing, navigating prison, or trying to rebuild your credibility, ask yourself:
What have you built that didn’t exist before your case?
(We’ll explore this more in our client-only call on Tuesday at 9:30 am Pacific.)
We interviewed Paul Bertrand, the retired FBI agent who arrested me. He told us:
- The FBI agent is building a file.
- The prosecutor is drafting your story.
- The probation officer is summarizing your life.
- The judge is deciding who to believe.
- The BOP is assigning you a risk level.
They’re moving, taking daily, incremental action.
And with the June 17 memo from BOP Director William Marshall now in effect, there’s even less excuse to delay.
We talked about this in our last webinar:
The First Step Act and Second Chance Act are no longer theoretical.
Case managers are being instructed to prioritize home confinement.
Conditional Placement Dates are being used.
Excuses like “bedspace” are being removed.
But none of that matters if you don’t act.
You can quote Rockefeller.
You can highlight Montaigne.
You can reread The Prince.
But if you’re not creating something every day that shows the person you’re becoming, not just the person you were, it’s useless. The people judging your case aren’t grading your philosophy. They’re measuring your proof, the record you’re building.
We’ll go deeper on this in our next webinar.
But if you’ve followed our work from Montaigne’s daily practice to Plato’s light, from Locke’s clean slate to Machiavelli’s strategy, from Galt’s defiance to Rockefeller’s persistence, you already know the thread:
You don’t get leniency for being smart.
You get it for moving and taking daily, incremental action (I heard Michael say that phrase to me thousands of times in prison.)
So move.
Even if it means being misunderstood.
Even if it means being judged.
Even if it means being hated for trying to rebuild.
Rockefeller was hated.
Galt was hated.
Machiavelli was hated.
But they acted anyway, and it is the reason we talk about them decades and centuries later.
Action doesn’t just solve everything. It separates those who are ready from those still hiding, rationalizing.
If our messaging resonates with you, join our Tuesday webinar.
One more thing, it’s 5:57 am.
My firstborn is scrambling to make it happen. She is slightly grumpy in the morning, like me.
We are off to run with our new playlist. First up, Eyes Without A Face by Billy Idol.
Justin Paperny
P.S. Here are the 15 Rockefeller quotes he sent me, each one worth rereading, but only if you’re willing to follow them with action:
Our destiny is determined by our actions, not by our origins.
Losing work means losing happiness. Work is the foundation of all businesses, the source of prosperity, and the shaper of genius.
Action solves everything.
Humans function like a bicycle: unless you move up and forward toward the target, you will stagger and fall.
Failure is a learning experience. You can either turn it into a tombstone or a stepping stone.
Too many people overestimate what they lack, but underestimate what they have, and lose the chance to become a winner.
The level of confidence determines the level of achievement.
Those who reach the pinnacle in business, mission, writing, acting, and other pursuits of achievement do so because they can steadily and persistently pursue a plan of self-development and growth.
Concentration and perseverance account for 95% of a person’s ability.
Knowledge is only a kind of potential power. Only when knowledge is applied constructively will it show its power.
Do not make any small plans, because they cannot inspire a soul.
A great life is the process of conquering excellence.
Only by being able to endure what people cannot bear, can you do what people cannot do.
The best way to find the perfect idea is to have many ideas.
Purpose is like a diamond: if it is to be valuable, it must be real.
