From the moment we enter university or begin our careers, we are told one piece of advice repeatedly: network. Attend the event. Make the introduction. Add the connection on LinkedIn. Build relationships with successful people. It can feel as though who we know matters more than what we know.
There is nothing inherently wrong with networking. Relationships have always helped people learn, collaborate, and discover new opportunities. But somewhere along the way, the purpose of those relationships has begun to change. Instead of asking, Who inspires me? Who challenges me? Who do I genuinely enjoy being around? we often find ourselves asking, Who can help me get to the next step?
The ambition to “build your network” and “find people who can elevate your career” has made us unconsciously evaluate relationships based on potential benefits rather than genuine connection. Today I ask you: Are we building meaningful relationships, or simply collecting useful ones?
In today’s fast-paced and interconnected world, relationships have the power to create opportunities, open new perspectives, and connect us with experiences we might not otherwise encounter. A strong network can provide mentorship, collaboration, and growth. The issue is not networking itself; the danger comes when we begin to view every relationship only through the lens of what we can gain, rather than what we can contribute.
When this happens, relationships risk becoming symbols of prestige rather than genuine connections built on trust and mutual respect. In an age of LinkedIn achievements, social media branding, and public displays of success, the people we associate with can begin to feel like extensions of our own identity. Our generation especially has grown up in a culture where success is often measured by visibility. We are encouraged to surround ourselves with successful people, because their association can create the perception that we, too, hold greater status or credibility.
Ironically, the people who shape us and allow us to grow are often not those with the most impressive titles, but those who support us, challenge us, and stand by us when there is nothing to gain.
Instead, the external expectation that links success or achievement with visibility and reach can easily impact one’s sense of worth. I’ve often witnessed people attach themselves to others while seeking an elevation in their (self-)perception. A friendship with someone influential, accomplished, or well-connected can become a subtle form of social currency. Whilst these processes are natural and probably unavoidable, I believe they have a larger social implication.
When personal relationships become transactional, and we value relationships not for the person themselves, but for what their presence represents, society loses its community.
Having grown up in the UAE, the value of community was instilled in me early on. Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan al Nahyan showed us to rely on the strength of our community, to elevate each other and act out of generosity and kindness. His leadership is his legacy, and its grand success points to the truth of his approach.
This country has gone through immense growth in the last decades, which is a beautiful thing. Yet, I cannot help but observe that interactions often target direct returns. Especially in the environments that are hubs for innovation and growth, our eagerness to expand should not result in the loss of genuine community.
It starts with the relationship to your colleague, school friend, or neighbor. You know how you get drained sometimes from social interactions? That might not be social fatigue; it might be the side effect of confusing mutual benefits with genuine connection.
Strong societies are not built through constant exchanges; they are built through reciprocity and a willingness to support others without immediately calculating what we receive in return. When people help each other without expecting a direct benefit, they create stronger workplaces, stronger neighbourhoods, and stronger professional communities. This type of generosity creates social capital that no networking event or professional connection can replicate.
So what do I propose instead?
What I am suggesting does not counteract meeting new people, or making more connections. A mentor of a friend once shared a lesson that stayed with me: networking is important, but the true value of a relationship comes when we stop asking “What can this person do for me?” and start asking “What can I do for them?” When we approach relationships with the intention of giving rather than gaining, we create connections that are far more meaningful and lasting.
A strong network can accelerate a career, but a strong community sustains a life. The two are not the same, and societies become stronger when we remember the difference.
We often forget, especially in young adulthood, that the relationships we already have are some of the most valuable ones we will ever build. In the pursuit of success, we can sometimes take genuine friendships for granted while investing more time and energy into transactional relationships. But this stage of life is also when we have the greatest opportunity to build a community around us, one based not on what people can provide, but on shared experiences, trust, and genuine care.
Genuine relationships are built on consistency rather than convenience. They exist beyond moments of opportunity and remain valuable even when there is nothing to gain. The people who stay present through both success and difficulty are the relationships that deserve to be protected. They are often the ones that offer no immediate return: helping a new colleague settle in, mentoring someone at the beginning of their career, introducing two people because it could genuinely benefit them, checking in on someone during a difficult period, or sharing knowledge without expecting recognition.
These actions may not create instant opportunities, but they strengthen something far more valuable, which is the trust that holds communities together.
True success is not only measured by how far we advance individually, but by how much we contribute to the people and communities around us.
In an age where visibility and influence are often celebrated, I hope this essay acts as a reminder that our value is not determined by the people we know, the networks we build, or the opportunities we can access through others. It is determined by the kindness we show, the support we provide, and the way we treat the people around us.
Perhaps it is worth asking ourselves: Are we investing enough in the people who are already standing beside us, or are we too focused on meeting the people who might help us get ahead? And when we build new relationships, are we asking what we can gain or what we can give?
