Roman Vasilenko’s The Truth for Everyone: A Pragmatist’s Manifesto or a Survival Guide?

A Review of the Book: 23 Laws of Success Tested by “People, Money, and High-Stakes Situations Where Mistakes Are Costly”

Roman Vasilenko’s The Truth for Everyone (St. Petersburg: UPI LLC, 2026, 208 pages) comes with a promise rarely found on the covers of business books: not to inspire, but to warn. From the very first pages, the author declares that the world is harsher than most people think and offers readers not motivation, but the “rules of the game.” Let’s examine what lies behind these rules—and who really needs them.

The Premise: Truth Instead of Comfort

The introduction sets the tone for the entire book. Vasilenko quotes Orwell (“How many fingers am I holding up, Winston?”) and invokes the Latin phrase cui bono—“who benefits?”—urging readers to continually question the information they receive. “Success is not just the ability to set goals and achieve them. It is the ability to see the truth, even when that truth hits you in the face,” he writes. The author immediately rules out an audience seeking “cozy sofas and streaming services,” addressing instead those who are prepared to embrace discomfort.

The structure is straightforward: 23 laws, each presented in a separate chapter containing a story, an argument, and a practical takeaway. The stated foundation is more than 35 years of observing business and social processes from the inside.

Law 1. Forget Past Successes

The first law opens with the story of Kodak’s downfall—a company that was once synonymous with photography but missed the digital revolution, even though it had invented the first digital camera itself. The author states the law plainly: “Forget past successes.” He explains: “On the road to great success, there can be no prolonged stops: either you move forward or you decline. There is simply no other option.”

Vasilenko warns that success can be more dangerous than failure: “Successes can be far more dangerous than numerous disappointments and failures” because they lull people into a false sense of security. As a counterexample to Kodak, he cites Netflix, which “killed its old successful business for the sake of some future,” and reminds readers: “Yesterday’s success is yesterday’s sandwich: it tasted good, but it’s already been eaten.”

Analysis. This is arguably the book’s most universal and least controversial law. It draws on the classic concept of disruptive innovation and is supported by convincing case studies. Its weakness is its categorical tone: the claim that “either you move forward or you decline” leaves no room for deliberate pauses, which can also be strategic. Nevertheless, the author acknowledges the value of experience as a foundation for intuition, so the law is ultimately more about flexibility than a wholesale rejection of the past.

Law 3. Give People What They Want

The third law concerns loyalty and social capital. Here, Vasilenko is particularly persuasive as a storyteller. He examines the PR campaign surrounding the film Sound of Freedom and Donald Trump’s role in it, explaining how values—in this case, “the well-being of children”—can become a tool for building an emotional connection with an audience. “Loyalty emerges when people share common values and a common sense of purpose with you,” he writes. He continues: “The more people are emotionally involved, the stronger their attachment to you, your cause, and your ‘egregore,’ if you will.”

The practical examples—Starbucks and its loyalty stars and customers’ names on cups, as well as Father Methodius, who has 5,000 contacts in his phone book—are more convincing than the political examples. The author insists on sincerity: “The key word is sincerely. A forced smile is no different from a forced relationship.”

Analysis. This law is double-edged. On the one hand, it reflects sound management principles and relationship psychology: people really are drawn to places where they feel noticed and valued. On the other, the instrumental framing—“give people what they want” to gain their loyalty—comes close to manipulation. The example involving Trump and a film about child trafficking illustrates not so much a commitment to shared values as a technique for exploiting them. The author does not conceal this, and that is one form of honesty in the book. Still, readers should keep in mind the difference between sharing values and using them as leverage.

Law 5. Change the Rules of the Game

The fifth law is the most Machiavellian in the book. It opens with a quotation from Clausewitz and develops the metaphor of “fishing in troubled waters”: “Do not be afraid to change the rules of the game while the game is still in progress. There is always a risk, but if things work out, you win everything.”

The author explores game theory through the game of chicken. To win, one driver throws the steering wheel out of the window while driving, eliminating any possibility of turning away and forcing the opponent to yield. Vasilenko comments: “You deliberately limited yourself, but that very limitation made you the winner of the game.” He also warns: “There is nothing more dangerous than underestimating your opponent and thinking you are smarter.” The chapter also tells the story of Shein, which transformed the fashion industry through speed, and offers advice on unpredictability: “Make surprise and unpredictability your defining characteristics.”

Analysis. This is the book’s most controversial law—and also the one most characteristic of its overall philosophy. The logic of the game of chicken assumes that the opponent is rational and unwilling to risk self-destruction; in reality, the stakes can provoke irrational behavior. Moreover, the “throw away the steering wheel” strategy works only until someone else does the same—and the author himself acknowledges this. The law’s practical value lies not in following it literally, but in its reminder that those who blindly accept imposed rules may be setting themselves up for defeat. This can be a reasonable approach in business, but it is dangerous in personal relationships and conventional employment, where unpredictability can damage one’s reputation.

Law 12. Get Rid of the Human Weeds

The twelfth law is one of the harshest and, at the same time, one of the most practical in the book. Vasilenko develops an extended metaphor, comparing people who drag others down to weeds such as goutweed, couch grass, thistles, and chickweed. Complainers, fools, habitual critics, and gossips, in his view, can “suck the life out of” a person he compares to a flower. The author refers to the discovery of mirror neurons, arguing that we unconsciously imitate the behavior of those around us. From this, he draws a recommendation: “Analyze your social circle. Right now, write down the names of the 10 people you interact with most closely… If you don’t like what you see, change your social circle immediately.”

“Fools” come in for particularly harsh criticism: “Foolish people are dangerous above all because they create problems without any obvious benefit, even to themselves. They are also irrational. While reasonable, calculating scoundrels and villains can be rationally ‘figured out,’ foolish people cannot.”

Analysis. This law is the essence of Vasilenko’s pragmatism. He makes no concessions to sentimentality: he calls feeling sorry for “whiners” a mistake and recommends pulling out the weeds “quickly, firmly, and without hesitation.” On the one hand, this is a defensive strategy familiar to anyone who has dealt with a toxic social environment. On the other, the definition of a “weed” is subjective. It can easily be applied to people who are simply inconvenient, disagree with us, or are going through a difficult period. The author himself acknowledges that “sometimes there are people who genuinely need help,” but the boundary between a “weed” and a person in distress is thinly drawn. Readers should remember that a well-maintained garden is not an end in itself, but a means of promoting growth. Becoming too preoccupied with weeding can lead to isolation.

Law 23. Welcome Problems!

The book’s final law provides a philosophical conclusion to the entire work. Vasilenko divides people into three types according to how they respond to crises: victims, who do nothing and look for someone to blame; executors, who bustle around, confusing activity with strategy; and leaders, who remain calm, make difficult choices, and take responsibility for the consequences. The central idea is this: “Pressure does not make a person strong, wise, or strategic. Pressure merely removes the masks. It does not create a leader; it reveals whether one was there in the first place.”

The author supports this law with personal experience. When he “became inconvenient for the system,” he says, “no one came to talk”—instead, legal proceedings and endless litigation began. It is here that the book’s central message emerges: “Support does not come from outside; it comes only from within. And if there is nothing there, it is all over.” According to Vasilenko, the laws collected in the book are not theory, but “the foundations of your inner strength,” which must be “embedded at the level of skills carved into your bones.”

Analysis. This is the book’s most emotional and personal law, and at the same time, the one most vulnerable to criticism. On the one hand, the idea of “welcoming problems” echoes Stoicism and existential psychology: crises really can reveal a person’s character. On the other, telling people to “welcome” problems can easily become a justification for a toxic environment or an unjust system: if you cannot withstand the pressure, you are supposedly to blame. Vasilenko seems to understand this. His closing message is less about enjoying pain than about being prepared to face it with open eyes. Readers should nevertheless distinguish healthy stoicism from masochism: not every problem is a “test of strength.” Sometimes a problem is simply a problem that needs to be solved—or one that needs to be walked away from.

Overall Analysis

The book’s strengths are clear. First, there is the density of the material: 208 pages contain 23 laws supported by case studies from business history, politics, sports, and the author’s personal experience, ranging from Kodak and Netflix to Mount Elbrus and the Iguazu Falls. Second, there is an honesty about its genre: Vasilenko does not pretend to be a motivational speaker. He speaks openly about cynicism, manipulation, and “human weeds.” Third, the book is practical: every law ends with a conclusion, and some include step-by-step instructions on how to delegate, set goals, or train concentration.

Its weaknesses are equally apparent. The first is eclecticism. The book combines psychology, game theory, marketing, and practical wisdom without integrating them into a coherent system. The laws stand alongside one another and sometimes contradict each other: Law 19 advocates patience, while Law 21 emphasizes speed; Law 12 calls for aggressively pruning one’s social circle, while Law 18 advocates generosity. The second weakness is ethical ambiguity. Advice such as “use flattery, praise, and vague promises” or “make someone feel indebted to you” may work, but the boundary between influence and manipulation is barely defined. The third is subjectivity: the author’s personal experience is presented as a universal law, even though many conclusions—for example, those concerning guides’ bets on Mount Elbrus—are compelling anecdotes rather than proof.

Who Should Read It?

Entrepreneurs and executives, particularly those navigating growth, competition, reputational attacks, and the need to delegate.

Readers who have grown disillusioned with motivational literature and are looking for a pragmatic, sometimes harsh examination of social dynamics.

People prepared to embrace discomfort: the book does not flatter its readers and at times openly attempts to set them straight. Its final message addresses the reader directly and leaves little room for ambiguity.

Anyone interested in the practical psychology of influence—with the caveat that some of the techniques require ethical reflection.

Conclusion

The Truth for Everyone is a book with a strong personality and an ambiguous ethical framework. It does not reveal new scientific truths or offer a coherent system, but it provides something many readers lack: an honest, sometimes harsh look at how relationships, reputation, and the struggle for influence work. Its greatest value lies in its sobering effect. After reading it, it becomes harder to believe in “simple formulas for success” and easier to ask the uncomfortable question cui bono—who benefits? It is worth reading with your eyes open and a willingness to distinguish between the tools you are prepared to use and those that conflict with your values. As the author himself writes, “Wisdom is not a commodity.” This book is not a commodity either, but rather an invitation to think independently and critically.