Many scientists believe strong nuclear force is the most powerful force in the universe. Others believe gravity is the most potent while some would put hurricanes and avalanches at the top of the powerful category.

Albert Einstein said that compound interest is the most powerful force. If you started saving money at an early age and cash it in after you retire, you’ll believe the genius was correct.

The romantics among us believe love is the strongest emotion while the pessimists would argue that hate is powerful and dangerous.

These are sound theories. However, there’s something more powerful than keeping planets in line or making sure the sun stays millions of miles away.

I believe guilt is the most powerful force in the world. Guilt can make the strongest person cave under pressure. When used effectively, guilt can make us into better people.

Guilt was one of the strongest tools I had as a parent. If one of the boys hit the other, I had the standard reply.

“You hit your brother,” I’d say to the guilty party as the innocent one cried loudly and without taking a breath. I’d shake my head in disappointment while consoling the wailing child. I’d look straight in the eyes of the offender and ratchet up the guilt.

“Look how bad he feels. Now tell him you’re sorry,” I’d say.

Usually that philosophy worked. That is until the day the hitter said they didn’t feel bad about hitting their brother.

“He deserved it,” was the answer. Out went that line of guilt shaming because guilt only works if you feel bad about what you did.

When they were older, instilling guilt became a little more sophisticated. But I had the guilt grand master close by – my grandmother. She’d cook a huge meal, fill a plate to overflowing and then put it down in front of me. She’d sit next to me, point at the plate and smile.

“Looks good, doesn’t it,” she’d say. “I made all of this for you.”

The food looked delicious, but she and I both knew there was no way I could eat everything she’d heaped on the plate.

“I can’t eat all of this,” I’d say, trying to weasel out of all that food. She’d dab at her eyes.

“You don’t like what I fixed you,” she’d say. I’d reassure her I did and then she’d look at the plate and at me. I’d end up eating everything on there, just so she wouldn’t feel bad.

My mom updated the guilt about food with a line we knew was coming if we turned our noses up at what she’d fixed.

“There are starving children in China who’d be glad to eat this,” she’d say. That worked until my brother talked back one night.

“Well, then, they can have this,” he said. Let’s just say he was one of those starving children because he went to bed without any supper that night.

I tried to soften the guilt for my boys, but I’d been trained by the very best. I’d find myself mouthing words I couldn’t believe were coming out of my mouth, but there they were.

“I slaved for hours in front of that stove and you tell me you ate a taco over at your friend’s house so now you’re not hungry!” was one of my lines. “Fine, then, I’ll just throw it away.”

I never could throw away perfectly good food, so I’d just put it in the fridge for lunch the next day. Still, I never could tell them that – the guilt was so much more fun to dish out.

The romantic in me believes that love is the strongest force and will always win out over hate. Gravity keeps the universe in check and Mother Nature is savagely powerful.

But as a person who’s dished out guilt as well as crumbled underneath it, guilt is the ace of hearts in the deck of life.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.