The Long, Arduous Trek To Social Justice

Recently, I stumbled on my first-ever published work, South Africa’s Bondage Ties Us All.  Written and published in a local newspaper in 1989, I argued in that short article that none of us was truly free for as long as South African Blacks remained subjected to the bondage of apartheid. 

When I wrote that article, South Africa was paramount in my mind.  I had become increasingly bothered by the fact that leaders of countries were paying lip service to the concept of freedom as they promoted that idea around the world while actively helping the South African government to sustain its apartheid policy.  I was also angered by the fact that some preachers of my faith were boldly saying on Christian television that South Africa's apartheid regime was God's will and that black South Africans were the cause of their own oppression.  In retrospect, I feel that in my disappointment and intense desire for change in South Africa, I did not look beyond the plight of black people in South Africa to consider the potential that so many in our world would still be subjected to so many forms of social injustice long after Blacks in South Africa became free.  However, I recall that I looked sufficiently far back in history and knew enough about oppressed groups to be able to say in that article that it would only be a question of time before the black people of South Africa became free because oppression in that form was hardly sustainable in an increasingly connected world. 

Well, South African Blacks did become free but injustice continues to survive in increasingly diverse forms around the world.  Also, its varied complexion and multiplicity of forms now make it more difficult to hope for a world devoid of injustice.  That would be a world in which we all recognize that we are not truly free when some of our brothers and sisters are in chains; a world in which some among us do not have to prove themselves to be accepted just because of their pigmentation; a world in which people who possess the same credentials and perform comparable tasks are remunerated equally despite their gender; a world in which people are not judged and condemned because of who they love; a world in which people's freedom of movement is not curtailed just because of what they look like; a world in which people are not profiled for punishment just because they do not come from the dominant socioeconomic class or culture; a world in which we accept our responsibility to care for the sick among us rather than subject that responsibility to heartless political debates; a world in which all are truly equal in the application of law just as we all are in the eyes of God.  Simply, that is the world that we need but it is not the world that we have – and the chances that we will ever have such a world are increasingly diminishing by the day.  We should never claim to live in a just society (or world) if any among us remains a victim of social injustice. 

       

I am inclined to believe that our world will get better because more and more of us will embrace and work for social justice.  Yet, even if I had a crystal ball, I would still consider it foolhardy to make such a pronouncement.  Instead, here is what I can say for sure: The trek toward social justice is long, difficult and sometimes a hopeless journey but there is no guarantee that the destination can ever be reached.  I believe, however, that we can make this a more just world if each of us plays his/her part.  It would require that we join our hearts and hands, raise our voices on behalf of the voiceless, march against injustice on behalf of ourselves and those who cannot march on their own behalf, and lift those in our midst who need a helping hand.  If we give hope to the hopeless, help to the helpless, water to the thirsty, food to the hungry, empower the powerless and not only talk but live the gospel of social justice, then we make it possible for ourselves and those who come after us to hope for a world in which we can convincingly say and believe, as Dr. Martin Luther King did, that “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice”.  

The Ghosts of Our Fathers

As a young man, I thought that the idea that our actions out-lived us and were capable of potentially impacting the people and society that we left behind was uniquely African.  Then I read Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar at age 14 and knew instantly that the words of Mark Antony's speech at Caeser’s funeral might never leave me.  To this day, I see images of Mark Antony standing before the audience and expressing as follows:

Friends, Romans, countrymen

Lend me your ears

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 

The evil that men do lives after them; 

The good is oft interred with their bones;  

So let it be with Caesar.

Certainly, the meaning of these words continue to play out daily in the lives of men and women, as good deeds are often forgotten in man's insatiable appetite to glorify self and praise his/her benefactor for today's gifts while wasting no time to verbally assault the name of the same benefactor for tomorrow's inability to provide.  To me. however, Mark Antony's words on that fateful day were, and remain a lesson that the idea of life's continuation beyond death is not uniquely African.  Had I not learned this lesson at that age, I would have had to learn it at my father's funeral service many years later when the preacher declared: "Venerable Archdeacon Jonathan Oni Eseleh lived a life of righteousness and will forever be an example for all of us.  He lived his life helping others and serving His maker with humility and grace".  Then, echoing Ezekiel 18 verse 2, the preacher continued; "Therefore, it will never be said of his children that "...The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge".  Here in a religion older than Julius Caeser was an acknowledgment of the potential impact of our actions on our children even long after we are gone. Well, I was not expecting any more of this lesson when I chose to become a psychotherapist.  So, needless to say that I was pleasantly surprised to learn as a graduate student, that solidly grounded in research and practice knowledge was a very sound articulation of the position of multi-generational processes in human development, behavior, treatment and wellness.

If we take the time to look very closely around the world, we can see the impact of the works of our fathers on the societies that they left behind.  Leaders and citizens of successful societies always maintain a consciousness of history and do their best to stay close to the foundations and guiding principles laid by their founding fathers.  They are grateful for the sacrifices of those who came before them and lead as if they are guided by the ghosts of those fathers to maintain a sense of responsibility and diligence to the paths paved by history.  In such societies, individuals and groups anchor their sense of pride on an identity carved and projected by their understanding and belief in a living history that was built and preserved by selfless visionaries who understood that they were called to a purpose greater than themselves.  An immoral and distasteful leader may arise at some point in the life course of such a society but then another leader soon comes who rights the course toward history's trajectory as envisioned by the fathers long gone

In unsuccessful and struggling societies, on the other hand, history is destroyed rather than preserved, shunned rather than embraced, and relegated rather than elevated.  Also, the role of culture and tradition is in some cases disregarded in favor of what is thought to be modern, however alien.  In such societies, the young have no knowledge of the depth of their society's history because those who should teach them have abandoned their roles.  In their quest either for survival or fame, those who ought to protect and pass along the memories of service and respectability that their societies' fathers represented embark on the dangerous course of ignoring the ghosts of their fathers.  Yet, the evidence is all around us that individuals and societies that ignore history wander aimlessly, often blind to the fact that others can see through the hollowness of their momentary trappings of success.  

As individuals, most of us know the circumstances of our societies and are aware of how far we have veered from or stayed close to the lessons of history as crafted and delivered to us by our fathers. When we succeed in suppressing our consciences, ignore the ghosts of our fathers and act as if we gained no knowledge from the lessons of history, we fail in our responsibility to make the world a better place for our own descendants.  This is a very bad thing.   

The Collapse Of Common Sense

I was only about 13 years old when one of my teachers, an old man who had been a politician in his prior life, wondered aloud if open-book examinations had any value.  “There will always be people who can never find the answers to questions asked, even if you help them open the book to the page where the answers are.  Common sense", he said, "is not common".  If it were, everyone would have it but not everyone does.  At the time, the comment seemed like nothing more than a gibe at the types of students that can often be found in classrooms in every society: those students who not strongly endowed academically; those who stay up at night and fall asleep in the classroom during the day; and those for whom education does not rise beyond a secondary priority.  To a young religious mind, the comment also felt to me like hyperbole because I was convinced that everyone was endowed with common sense, which simply means the ability to exercise sound judgment.

If I could turn back the clock and be 13 again, I would pray to God for courage to be able to request my teacher to meet privately with me in a society where teachers were considered so powerful that even the meekest of them radiated what felt like an intimidating presence.  With my request for courage granted, I would ask my teacher to expand on his comment about common sense.  I would ask him to educate me about the role of common sense in building and sustaining a society and people.  I would ask him how one would know that common sense was lacking in anyone or any environment.  Finally, I would ask if he had a crystal ball into which he could look and tell me what would become of a society and world in the event of a widespread collapse of common sense.     

Well, none of that matters now.  I am probably now around the age where my teacher was when I was 13.  To the extent that age confers the privilege of, and opportunity for the kind of wisdom that lived experiences make possible, I am now in a vantage position from which I can see the world in ways that I could not at age 13.  Now, I see a world in which people vote against their own self-interest; a world in which the down-trodden applaud, celebrate, defend and protect their oppressors; and a world in which people who have never themselves fought (and will never personally fight) beat the drums for war while those who have everything (including their lives) to lose dance to the drumbeat at the command of so-called leaders who will not miss a meal in mourning when the battle is joined.  I see a world in which pastors would rather purchase private jets on the backs of indigent members of their congregations while the latter still follow them as if their salvation rests on man.  I see a world in which pastors build and claim to own universities where they set the cost of attendance so high that the church members whose money built the universities cannot afford to send their children there.  Yet, those members continue to attend those churches and continue to give money to the men and women who tell them tales that make them empty their pockets.  I see a world in which religious adherents allow themselves to be turned into suicide bombers while the leaders who send them to perpetrate such hate against others and themselves continue to live, sometimes in the lap of luxury.  I see a world in which historically exalted offices have been debased by the corrupt, arrogant and selfish instincts of individuals whose supporters shamelessly continue to applaud, make excuses and blame others for every irresponsible behavior that common sense would otherwise prevail on them to condemn.  I see a world where too many things no longer make sense.

We have become a world in which what common sense once prescribed as right is now considered a loser because too many of us have foreclosed on conscience and outsourced our common sense either to the highest bidders or to sweet talkers with no records of accomplishment beyond personal gain.   We have become a world that cherishes the easy way out instead of the right way out.  Common sense requires that we love rather than hate, that we collaborate rather than obstruct, that we tell the truth rather than intentionally mislead others who depend on us to be reasonable.  Common sense requires that we do the work that is needed to make our world a better place rather than retard the progress that had been made by others.  It requires that we stand for what is right rather than applaud evil perpetrated from high and low places, and that we look out for our neighbors even if we may not like them.  Common sense lays the foundation on which communities and nations are built.  A society, country or world in which common sense is doomed is one that is destined for ignominious failure.  We may not be there yet but the clock is ticking and we each have a responsibility to play our part in righting the course and averting the complete collapse of common sense in our lives, our communities and our world.  

      

WHEN THE PROTAGONIST IS EXCUSED FROM RESPONSIBILITY

The world is in trouble!  There is no way to sugar coat or overstate the reality.  Put otherwise, it would be a lie - and we are taught that it is immoral to lie.  Pick any Continent and a careful  look at one or two countries in that Continent provides an open window into the state of that Continent and, by extension, the state of our world.  Starting with North America, the United States of America has as President a petulant being in the physical body of an adult male.  In Europe, the United Kingdom is popping at the seams, since the country has been exposed as a pretentious, ideas-deprived, hypocritical and xenophobic nation.  That exposure came as a surprise to most people in the U.K. largely because the country’s leaders, like too many of those that they lead, seemed to have been too self-absorbed to know that not only is the world now interconnected but that the arrogant claim that the sun could never set on the British Empire is now quaint and no longer holds sway.  But the UK is only one of numerous self-injured countries in Europe that are struggling to stay afloat in an increasingly crazy world. 

Except for a tiny few, all African countries are in tatters, riddled by a long record of leaders who have consistently looted the treasuries of their countries while keeping the poor and middle class oppressed and hungry.  This is the story of Nigeria and the story that South Africa is writing about herself.  In fact, this is the dominant story of Africa’s sociopolitical and economic history.  In Australia, the Aborigines who were dispossessed of their land are treated as inferior humans in their own homeland by the same people who stole their country from them; the same people who now perceive of undocumented immigrants as worthless criminals deserving of inhumane treatment.  South America is replete with banana republics, thanks to decades of irresponsible leadership.  A country as rich in oil as Venezuela has been brought to its knees by decades of terrible leadership coated in dangerous rhetoric and a political ideology that was never a fit for the country.   In Asia, North Korea is led by a man-boy who seems to perceive of the world as the playground for whatever evil machinations can take residence in his mind.      

To the extent that a protagonist is the central figure in a factual story, a national political leader is a protagonist in the writing and telling of the story of the country and people that he/she is in office to represent.  To the extent that a protagonist is also supposed to be the champion of a cause, political leaders are supposed to champion the cause of progress for their countries and fellow citizens.  Unfortunately, the world is currently chock-full of leaders whose abilities are limited only to writing and telling stories that debase humanity.  Equally bad is the fact that most of the world’s leaders are champions only of themselves, their families and a few sycophants that could not survive otherwise.

The fact that our world has been shattered by an incredible amount of selfish and irresponsible political leaders is not in doubt.  But society’s complicity in this crime should also not be in doubt.  In every situation where national leaders have failed (and are failing) their countries, there have always been too many people helping to prop them up.  How oppressed citizens, foreign institutions, the wealthy and religious leaders wittingly and unwittingly connive to maintain destructive protagonists in position is a reality that defies reasonable explanation.  Yet, that is now the mix that provides cover for failed protagonists.  As a consequence, political leaders can do anything they please, however immoral, and they get away with it because the people who defend them will always do so even at the expense of their own integrity.  For as long as that cover remains to excuse political leaders from the consequences of their actions, for so long will our world remain in trouble.  If you ask me, the clouds are only thickening. 

Beatrice Bosede Omolodun, nee Gbenebor (1949-2017): A Life, A Light And A Transition Like Few Others

World War II began on September 1, 1939.  The seeds of that war were planted and grown in the dark, hateful dark minds of one political leader and his followers.  The world stood aside as he selected for extinction categories of people that he considered undesirable despite the fact that their (and his) Maker had not and would never reject His own creation.  World War II eventually became a protracted global war that remains the most widespread war ever fought in the history of the world. Exactly 6 years and 1 day later (that is, on September 2, 1945, the Second World War came to an end.  However, even as the chorus chant "Never again!" made its way into the expressed consciousness of people around the world, the heart of man did not change and most likely never will.  That chant was the product of a new war-weary and guilt-ridden world that was determined to be a better place for posterity by promoting love over hate, dialog over verbal and/or physical squabbles and peace over war. That was the world into which my beloved sister, Beatrice Bosede Omolodun (nee Gbenebor), was born on May 23, 1949. 

Fondly called "Aunty B", "Sister Bose" or "Sister B" by everyone, Mrs. Beatrice Omolodun was no ordinary human.  She and I did not have the same parents but I know of nobody that knew her who would say that she treated any of her biological siblings better than she treated me or anyone else.  Sister B was a selfless epitome of Christianity but I never once heard her speak about her religion or her Baptist church as a factor that made her more religious than anyone or as stool that placed her higher than anyone else; nor did she wear her faith as a decorative symbol.  Her actions spoke her beliefs.

Born into a world that was desperately in need of people that truly cared about others and loved genuinely, Sister B loved and gave without expecting anything in return. She touched more lives in her native Nigeria and the United States, where the bulk of her life was spent,  than is hardly possible even for the best of humanity. But, again, she was no ordinary human. Despite her high level of education, she served even the least of society with grace and humility.  With a heart of gold and a remarkable personality to match, she did an incredible amount of good without wearing her goodness on her sleeve or flying it as a flag.  

Despite being widowed just a few years ago, Aunty B remained unbowed and unbroken either by that loss or by her cancer diagnosis  which took us all by shock and dismay.  She fought cancer with resolve and determination and remained a constant encouragement even when we all knew what was coming.  On April 1, 2017, my brother Peter (who is Sister Bose's biological brother) sent a text message at 4:30 AM to inform me that Sister B had just been hospitalized within the last few hours. When we talked shortly afterwards, we both knew that the end had come for her and it was just a question of time before she would breathe her last breath. The next day, I received a text from Peter that I had expected but wished would not come, and which he wished he would never need to send.  The words were few but sharp: "Sister Bose passed away peacefully  this evening. We are heartbroken but glad that she feels no more pain from that awful ailment. Thanks for your kind thoughts and prayers", he wrote. 

At age 67, Sister Bose, who would have turned 68 next month, lived and impacted her world in a way that most people have never been able to do even at 100.  As I think of her, which I have done constantly over the past week, I have many unexpressed wishes.  I am also conscious of many realities and of my responsibility to be thankful to God for the opportunity to have hard as part of the cycle of my life a woman who displayed passion in loving and served others as if the only person watching was her God. By so doing, she may have fulfilled the purpose for which she was born and has hopefully left the living with a sense of responsibility to live passionately, lovingly, peacefully and honorably in service to others.  No wonder, Raleigh, North Carolina is about to host more people (there to mourn one person) on a weekend than it has done in a long time. 

Peter and the entire Gbenbor/Edwards/Irhabor family know better than anyone else that Sister Bose was a very rare human object and a glue that even the luckiest of families should feel blessed to experience once. Having been so blessed by her huge presence, the family now faces the dim reality of her passing.  If this is any consolation, Sister B is whole again and resting where most of aspire to arrive when our time here is spent.  The challenge of living earnestly and impacting our world, as she did, now belongs to all of us, including you - her biological family.  

Adieu, Sister Bose!  Goodbye, Aunty B!!  May your remarkable soul rest in perfect peace. 

Beatrice Bosede Omolodun, nee Gbenebor (1949-2017): A Life, A Light And A Transition Like Few Others

World War II began on September 1, 1939.  The seeds of that war were planted and grown in the dark, hateful dark minds of one political leader and his followers.  The world stood aside as he selected for extinction categories of people that he considered undesirable despite the fact that their (and his) Maker had not and would never reject His own creation.  World War II eventually became a protracted global war that remains the most widespread war ever fought in the history of the world. Exactly 6 years and 1 day later (that is, on September 2, 1945, the Second World War came to an end.  However, even as the chorus chant "Never again!" made its way into the expressed consciousness of people around the world, the heart of man did not change and most likely never will.  That chant was the product of a new war-weary and guilt-ridden world that was determined to be a better place for posterity by promoting love over hate, dialog over verbal and/or physical squabbles and peace over war. That was the world into which my beloved sister, Beatrice Bosede Omolodun (nee Gbenebor), was born on May 23, 1949. 

Fondly called "Aunty B", "Sister Bose" or "Sister B" by everyone, Mrs. Beatrice Omolodun was no ordinary human.  She and I did not have the same parents but I know of nobody that knew her who would say that she treated any of her biological siblings better than she treated me or anyone else.  Sister B was a selfless epitome of Christianity but I never once heard her speak about her religion or her Baptist church as a factor that made her more religious than anyone or as stool that placed her higher than anyone else; nor did she wear her faith as a decorative symbol.  Her actions spoke her beliefs.

Born into a world that was desperately in need of people that truly cared about others and loved genuinely, Sister B loved and gave without expecting anything in return. She touched more lives in her native Nigeria and the United States, where the bulk of her life was spent,  than is hardly possible even for the best of humanity. But, again, she was no ordinary human. Despite her high level of education, she served even the least of society with grace and humility.  With a heart of gold and a remarkable personality to match, she did an incredible amount of good without wearing her goodness on her sleeve or flying it as a flag.  

Despite being widowed just a few years ago, Aunty B remained unbowed and unbroken either by that loss or by her cancer diagnosis  which took us all by shock and dismay.  She fought cancer with resolve and determination and remained a constant encouragement even when we all knew what was coming.  On April 1, 2017, my brother Peter (who is Sister Bose's biological brother) sent a text message at 4:30 AM to inform me that Sister B had just been hospitalized within the last few hours. When we talked shortly afterwards, we both knew that the end had come for her and it was just a question of time before she would breathe her last breath. The next day, I received a text from Peter that I had expected but wished would not come, and which he wished he would never need to send.  The words were few but sharp: "Sister Bose passed away peacefully  this evening. We are heartbroken but glad that she feels no more pain from that awful ailment. Thanks for your kind thoughts and prayers", he wrote. 

At age 67, Sister Bose, who would have turned 68 next month, lived and impacted her world in a way that most people have never been able to do even at 100.  As I think of her, which I have done constantly over the past week, I have many unexpressed wishes.  I am also conscious of many realities and of my responsibility to be thankful to God for the opportunity to have hard as part of the cycle of my life a woman who displayed passion in loving and served others as if the only person watching was her God. By so doing, she may have fulfilled the purpose for which she was born and has hopefully left the living with a sense of responsibility to live passionately, lovingly, peacefully and honorably in service to others.  No wonder, Raleigh, North Carolina is about to host more people (there to mourn one person) on a weekend than it has done in a long time. 

Peter and the entire Gbenbor/Edwards/Irhabor family know better than anyone else that Sister Bose was a very rare human object and a glue that even the luckiest of families should feel blessed to experience once. Having been so blessed by her huge presence, the family now faces the dim reality of her passing.  If this is any consolation, Sister B is whole again and resting where most of aspire to arrive when our time here is spent.  The challenge of living earnestly and impacting our world, as she did, now belongs to all of us, including you - her biological family.  

Adieu, Sister Bose!  Goodbye, Aunty B!!  May your remarkable soul rest in perfect peace. 

The Day Nigerians Killed Democracy - by Godwin Ohiwerei, Ph.D

Elections belong to the people. It's their decision. If they decide to turn their back on the fire and burn their behinds, then they will just have to sit on their blisters.”
― Abraham Lincoln

As I watched the return of James Onanefe Ibori, the former Delta State governor who became the international symbol of Nigerian corruption, tried and jailed in the United Kingdom in 2012 welcomed back to Nigeria with such intense excitement and happiness from his Delta people, I concluded that Democracy is dead in Nigeria. I know that the same excitement will reign if any other Nigerian politician came back to his people with such ignominy as a thief. All that matter is for the politician or leader to share his loot with his people. I think of all the political sycophants in the last 16 years celebrated by their ethnic and regional folks, it begs the question as to why democracy in Nigeria?

Democracy is dangerous when the power to vote is placed on the hands of illiterates or functional illiterates who really do not understand the consequences of a failed democracy. Isaac Asimov stated that “Anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.'” Such is applicable in Nigeria, where there is a cult of ignorance, and it has always been so. The strain of anti-intellectualism is pervasive and has been a constant thread winding its way through Nigerian political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.  There is not much difference between the uneducated and the educated regarding democratic principles. Democracy cannot succeed unless those who express their choice are prepared to choose wisely. The real safeguard of democracy, therefore, is education (Franklin D. Roosevelt).

PDP destroyed Nigeria’s nascent democracy. The foundation of Democracy in Nigeria is referenced through Nigerian experience of PDP rule. Therefore as corrupt and anti intellectual as it represent, so goes Nigerian understanding of democratic expectations. When you think of how much the Federal and State governments under PDP rule borrowed and stole and worse, refused to prepare Nigeria for a future when the golden days of oil will no longer be present, you have to wonder why they can even complain of the present government slow progress towards arresting the economic crisis of the country. Nigerians expect miracles to happen; a wand, or God performing miracles over night and they wake up in the morning to see that the Naira is equal to the dollar or Euro and they can go back to their unearned flagrant ways. Nigerians actually believe that the current president is the impediment to Nigeria’s glory as a powerful economic giant. They absolve themselves from the crisis and they absolutely refuse to look at the data or completely ignorant of the fact that the last government of Goodluck Jonathan borrowed about $50 billion at a time when oil was at its highest market level of over $100 a barrel, even using borrowed money to pay government salaries. Nigerians during these periods lived on borrowed money and high oil returns and enjoyed the falsity of a dependent economy. Developed countries borrowed Nigeria money because Nigerians spend it on imports from these countries. Nigeria could not and cannot feed without food import in a country with abundant green vegetation where the illiterate farmer in the village is more productive than a Nigerian graduate.

TODAY THE PROBLEM IS: HOW DO YOU CONVINCE A DEPENDENT POPULATION TO NOW WORK HARD AND EARN THEIR WAY RATHER THAN LIVE A LIFE WHERE THE GOVERNMENT OPERATES ON SUBSIDY AND BORROWED WEALTH?  A lot of Nigerians will not buy local products but rely on imported goods which require foreign exchange. Unfortunately, the ones who have nothing to contribute to the economy use social media to vent and at the end make no contribution. To make democracy work, we must be a nation of participants, not simply observers.
Nigeria can learn a lesson from Charlie Chaplin who articulated the following:

I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an emperor. That's not my business. I don't want to rule or  conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible; Jew, Gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone, and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls and has barricaded the world with hate, and goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical; our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men; cries out for universal brotherhood; for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me, I say, do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish.

Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide (John Adams).