Legacy Over Everything
How the destruction of the world as we know it is setting the stage for new legacies to arise from the ashes
Do you build for money or for legacy? It’s the first core question every entrepreneur must ask themselves before they begin their ruthless pursuit of the unknown. It’s a question I’ve asked myself since I was a child—born with natural ambition and endless curiosity. I wandered through this life journey surrounded by the societal ghosts of our past: grand train stations built like cathedrals, civic libraries raised as temples of thought, theatres still performing Shakespearean plays, botanical gardens that mirrored the secret worlds I imagined while reading The Secret Garden. I was inspired by ornate infrastructure once deemed a public good, a testament to a world where beauty, culture, and knowledge were accessible to all.
Money is fleeting. Legacy is forever.
Every day, we are faced with new challenges of self, power, and country. Watching my nation collapse before my eyes on the global stage is horrifying, to say the least. I have never moved past the emotions of despair, anguish, disappointment, and anger toward those responsible for the destruction of democracy—the extermination of a country so many before me paid the ultimate price to protect and preserve for all of us to flourish. I had expected I would carry the mantle forward, building atop the foundations laid carefully by my predecessors. Instead, I find myself rebuilding their renaissance from the ashes. We, as Americans, have truly entered the Dark Ages: human decency has eroded, the promise of gratitude has withered, and the hard-won progress of our ancestors is now lost in time.
Fascism is not creeping; it is raging—a bushfire setting the globe ablaze. Reductive policies, aggressive treatment of mankind, and the removal of pure intentions have reduced the world to ash. New, toxic ideologies pollute the air, sickening the minds of entire societies. The screams of virtue and righteousness are silenced by the iron grip of intellectual decay. Those left most vulnerable are now permanently erased from the narrative.
Yet, even as I stand amid the ruins, I am hopeful. Between the waves of grief over where humanity was supposed to be, I realize there is an opportunity for something new. The world may be desolate, but with the destruction of the old—systems, infrastructures, corrupted cultures—new growth can take root. New leaders can rise. New cultural architects, innovators, patrons, philosophers. The next cycle has already begun. A new standard is presenting itself. A new world is waiting to be born.
Concordia, Integritas, Industria
“Harmony, Integrity, Industry”
I build for legacy.
When I first began my journey, I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant or where it would lead me. I only knew it would be vastly different from the well-worn path many entrepreneurial peers chose. I had zero interest in building something simply to scale and sell, parading exit multiples at vapid dinner parties. I had no desire to be a lackey pumping out millions for the fleeting contentment of shareholders while leaving minimal societal impact in my wake. I studied the paths of giants, but the quick wins and hollow accolades never sat right with me. They didn't feel like destiny—they felt like cowardice.
I wasn’t interested in being good. I wasn’t moved by a few million dollars, a modest home, a tax-deductible donation, or a tiny wing in a private school. I want to be great. I want to be exceptional. Because I am one of the legendaries in this life. A legacy-builder. A disruptor. A pioneer.
I studied the families who moved mountains: the Rothschilds, the Morgans, the Rockefellers. Families whose investments didn’t just buy them status but built worlds, pioneered research, instituted diplomacy, and progressed humanity. Through studying them, I noticed one essential trait they all shared: faith. Not just religious faith, but faith in themselves—the unshakable belief in their destined greatness. Legacy-makers know from the beginning, even if no one else sees it yet, the values they are here to leave behind. The traits their lineage will be known for.
Building for money never interested me. I knew my honor, integrity, and duty to the public would drive every pursuit I undertook. That’s what my lineage will be known for. Maintaining strong values doesn’t just create great CEOs—it creates exceptional leaders. Leaders who set the tone for the rest of society to follow.
When curating the new world we are called to build, however you deem it fit, I urge the next exceptional leaders to remind themselves of their mission and their values. They are your compass. They are the foundation of your legacy.
Veritas
Truth
Institutions are the bedrock of civilization. They are not merely buildings or bureaucracies—they are vessels for ideas, values, and visions that must outlive any single generation. They serve as lighthouses through history’s darkest storms, illuminating the path forward even when the present feels unbearably bleak.
As I have sowed the seeds of my own legacy, I asked myself: what kind of institutional likeness do I aspire to build? The answer has always been the same: Harvard University.
Founded in 1636, Harvard was not established to create billionaires or prestige for its own sake. It was founded to cultivate a learned ministry, to ensure that the new society being carved out of an uncertain wilderness would be governed by wisdom, discipline, and intellectual rigor. It was an investment in human capital—an act of faith that an educated citizenry could uphold a fragile democracy. That leaders could be taught not just how to rule, but how to serve. That truth—Veritas—would be the spine of a thriving civilization.
Its original mission was not wealth accumulation. It was not personal fame. It was the safeguarding and advancement of knowledge, virtue, and public good.
That is the standard I hold myself to. That is the foundation I lay for the world I seek to build.
I don’t aspire to build trendy companies, transient brands, or personal cults of personality. I aspire to build institutions that stand for something greater than myself. Institutions that carry knowledge, culture, and purpose forward long after my name has faded into the annals of history. Institutions that expand opportunity, enrich the mind, and preserve the best of what humanity can be.
The old institutions are crumbling—not because institutions are inherently bad, but because so many of them betrayed their founding truths. They forgot who they were supposed to serve. They exchanged stewardship for short-term profit. They prioritized ego over excellence.
Let them fall.
We are the architects now.
We are the ones tasked with laying the new blueprints.
We are the ones responsible for ensuring that our lighthouses do not flicker and die.
We are the ones who must safeguard Veritas—truth—against the storms to come.
This is the responsibility of legacy.
This is the work of rebuilding civilization.
And it begins with refusing to build anything on lies.
Nemo Me Impune Lacessit
“No one provokes me with impunity | No one can harm me without (detrimental) consequence”
In December 2023, I visited my sanctuary—Scotland—for the first time. It came at a moment when I felt like a shell of myself. Just exhausted. I needed to re-center in an environment that could breathe life back into my spirit. A place that held all of my affections: nature, solitude, and history.
I began my stay in Edinburgh. People had been telling me for years that I would fall in love with it—and they were right. Edinburgh felt like a homecoming at a time when my internal GPS felt broken. As if the universe had left behind special breadcrumbs for me to find. One of those breadcrumbs revealed itself during a cold, rainy tour of Edinburgh Castle.
Edinburgh Castle, built atop ancient volcanic rock, is the most beleaguered fortress in Europe—seemingly impervious to external conquest. It was the perfect place for a royal line under threat. A nightmare for kings and queens who sought only pageantry, but a beacon for those who understood that survival requires strength.
During my tour, I learned about King Robert the Bruce’s legendary act of valor: requesting that, after his death, his men carry his heart into battle, so he could still fight for the victory he so deeply believed in. I have honestly never resonated with anything more. The idea of unwavering loyalty to the mission. A dedication to the cause so deep that not even death could sever it.
As I wandered the grounds, I came across the Stone of Destiny—a sacred relic used to determine the next sovereign ruler of Scotland. Those who sit upon the Stone are granted the right to rule. But it wasn’t just the Stone that captured my attention. It was the Latin inscription above the castle gates:
“Nemo Me Impune Lacessit.”
No one provokes me with impunity.
In layman’s terms: No one can harm me without consequence.
That phrase has lingered with me ever since. It is not a call for blind vengeance, but a reminder: once you have built something sacred, once you have poured your blood and breath into the creation of a legacy—you must protect it.
Legacy demands more than vision. It demands guardianship.
It demands that we stand firm when adversaries inevitably come to test the strength of what we have built.
If we are to rebuild a better world—one rooted in integrity, truth, and humanity—we must be prepared not only to create it but to defend it. Not every attack will come with brute force. Some will come quietly, insidiously, through the erosion of ideals and the slow compromise of values. You must be vigilant. You must protect your foundation, or risk watching it be rewritten by those who would rather see it fall.
Legacy is not just about what you leave behind.
It’s about what you are willing to fight for long after others have grown complacent.
It’s about refusing to let the new world we are building be corrupted by the old rot.
It’s about standing watch over the ideals, institutions, and communities we nurture—ensuring they endure not just for a season, but for centuries.
Nemo Me Impune Lacessit.
Not just a warning—but a sacred oath.
written by:
Nina Orm