At a time when Dr. Jonas Salk was working on a vaccine against polio (poliomyelitis), the disease was spreading fear around the world. Every year, thousands of children were left permanently paralyzed or died. His work was funded by the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis (now known as March of Dimes), an organization supported by small donations from ordinary people. That is precisely why Salk believed the vaccine belonged to the people because the people had paid for it through their donations. Salk never sought to profit personally from the vaccine and never applied for a patent. When it was announced in 1955 that the vaccine was both safe and effective, journalist Edward R. Murrow asked Salk during a television interview who owned the patent. Salk gave an answer that has since become part of history: "Well, the people, I would say. There is no patent. Could you patent the sun?"
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Salk gave up the possibility of enormous personal wealth in order to save millions of children's lives and help eradicate one of the world's most devastating diseases. His vaccine marked the beginning of the global victory over poliomyelitis. Combined with vaccines developed later and large-scale immunization programs, polio has now been eliminated from most of the world and remains endemic in only a small number of countries.
What makes Salk's decision so extraordinary is not only its scientific significance. It raises a much broader question: why do some people naturally give, while others primarily take? In his book Give and Take, organizational psychologist Adam Grant shows that this dynamic plays out every day in our offices and in our lives. Grant divided people into three basic categories: Givers, Takers, and Matchers. While Givers, like Salk, think about others, Takers look for ways to get the maximum benefit from every situation for themselves. At work, they take credit for other people's efforts, look for shortcuts, and see people primarily through the lens of personal gain. Matchers, on the other hand, live by the principle of reciprocity: "I'll help you if you help me." They help those who help them.
Grant's research into who succeeds the most at work produced unexpected results. The least successful people in business are often Givers because they burn out and allow others to take advantage of them. Takers and Matchers occupy the middle. Takers may achieve rapid success, but over time people see through them and begin to avoid them. Matchers play it safe and remain somewhere in the middle. And who ultimately turns out to be the most successful? Givers. How is it possible that Givers are found both at the very bottom and at the very top? The difference is that successful Givers know how to set boundaries, and by doing so they build extraordinarily strong networks of trust, while unsuccessful Givers do not. You do not have to become calculating or selfish to succeed in your career. You can remain deeply supportive of others and continue helping them, but under one important condition: you must learn to say "no" and establish healthy boundaries in order to protect your own time and energy. Anyone who has ever given more than they should have will probably recognize themselves in Grant's description of a Giver. I certainly do. That is precisely why his message about setting boundaries is, for me, not just a theory but a life lesson.
Salk's decision appears even more remarkable when we place it in contrast with today's world. Just compare Salk with people like Martin Shkreli, the former hedge fund manager and owner of Turing Pharmaceuticals, who in 2015 acquired the rights to the drug Daraprim (generic name: pyrimethamine). This was an old medicine originally developed in 1952 by Nobel Prize-winning scientist Gertrude Elion. It is an essential treatment for toxoplasmosis, an infection caused by a parasite that is usually harmless in healthy individuals but can be deadly or extremely dangerous for people with weakened immune systems. It is most commonly used by people living with HIV, cancer patients undergoing treatment, and pregnant women, because the parasite can cause severe brain damage to an unborn child. Overnight, Shkreli dramatically increased the price of this essential medicine in order to profit from seriously ill patients. He eventually earned the nickname "Pharma Bro" and became one of the most hated men in America. Although he was not sent to prison for raising the drug's price, he was convicted in 2017 of securities fraud. Shkreli did not invest a single dollar in the research, development, or improvement of the medicine. His business model was not based on innovation but on exploiting people who had no alternative. A patient with toxoplasmosis cannot simply say, "It's too expensive. I'll buy something else." For that patient, the medicine is literally a matter of life and death.
The story of Salk and Shkreli is not simply a story about medicine. It is a story about two fundamental human profiles. Adam Grant would say that Salk was a pure Giver, while Shkreli was a pure Taker. And these same types of people are the ones we encounter every day in our own lives. We all have our own "Salk" - someone who always steps in, always helps, and always gives their best. But we also all know those who only take.
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The way we approach giving and receiving largely determines not only our professional success but our entire lives. It is often a direct reflection of how we function with our friends, our partners, and our families. We may not all be able to give humanity a gift like the one Dr. Salk gave, but we can choose what kind of legacy we will leave in our workplace, within our families, and among our friends. Giving without boundaries leads to burnout. Giving with boundaries creates leaders and changes society.