The Word of Truth Between Exploitation and Loyalty : To My People

The Word of Truth Between Exploitation and Loyalty : To My People

By : Milad Korkis 

In a time when waves crash and voices of truth and falsehood, right and wrong, intermingle, I found myself, after many long years in the field of national media, standing before the mirror asking: has the moment come to open all my notebooks? Has the moment come to reveal what has long resided in my chest? My decision was not born of sudden anger or fleeting emotion, but the fruit of a long and arduous journey filled with trials, friendships tested, and the true nature of people revealed.

Today I do not write for myself alone, but for the sake of truth. I write for the reader who wonders: who carried the burden with sincerity, and who exploited it to fashion for himself a position or an image? I write for my people, who deserve to hear words clear and unvarnished. I write knowing that my words may disturb some and unsettle others, but they will remain a testimony to history—that truth is never lost so long as someone dares to speak it.

After many years in the field of national media, I decided to open all my notebooks—not for any reason but that the reader, my people, may know who is the true guarantor and who is the exploiter that turned slogans into trade and loyalty into merchandise.

Years passed as I moved among faces and names claiming nationalism and struggle for the people. I thought well of them, supported them, extended my hand, but the results—alas—were disastrous. He who plunges into the depths does not fear the storm, and I was amid the waves, unafraid of the current. I learned that he who braves the sea does not fear the wind, and he who confronts truth is not harmed by falsehood. Yet I also realized that some faces I thought solid shields were nothing but paper masks, crumbling at the first trial.

I saw many who were unworthy of even a single step on this path, yet they were praised by some who believed their loyalty genuine. In truth, they were mere climbers rising on the backs of others. They fed on crumbs, crafted false images for themselves, and raised empty voices. Fear of the knowledgeable always exposes the ignorant—and thus it was. Their scene became familiar: standing at podiums with grim faces and lofty words, while their reality was nothing but reflections of narrow interests and temporary gains. They pursued external recognition over inner conviction, applause over achievement, appearances over essence.

I saw many change their colors daily, shifting positions as one changes a garment—for they were people of interests. Their ignorance led them, and their followers, into the abyss of the unknown. They rose upon my back, exploited my kindness; I thought them companions of loyalty, but I discovered that most were nothing but seekers of gain and wearers of masks. They spoke of struggle while being the farthest from sacrifice, sang of nationalism while being the first to sell their identity at the first chance. I learned that only the steadfast deserve respect, while those skilled at changing colors see nothing but themselves and serve only their own pockets.

Many went so far as to defame me, but I paid them no attention—not out of fear, but because I refused to throw my dignity to the ground for the sake of the rotten who seek livelihood by displaying loyalty to whomever feeds them. Many thought themselves clever, capable of ensnaring this or that for their gain, but they failed to realize that every person stumbles, and every arrogant man falls. What matters is not those adorned with hollow titles, but those who remain sincere, who teach, who deliver the truth so many seek to hide. I faced smear campaigns, attempts to tarnish my name, but I never allowed myself to stoop to their level. Dignity is not sold in markets of bids, nor honor bartered at office doors.

What amuses me most is the stubbornness in the minds of those who laughed in my face—one hour with the color of a serpent, another with the color of a chameleon. Their laughter was a curtain hiding intentions, their colors tools to fit every gathering. But they forgot that however much a chameleon changes, its skin remains known, and however much a serpent alters, its venom remains the same. They lived on the margins of the cause, trying to deceive people with loud voices and eloquent words, but time exposed their reality and revealed their smallness.

I pity you all, and more so those my mind once believed to be intellectuals. I discovered they were nothing but empty words, fearful of any confrontation, skilled only at flaunting themselves at banquets and occasions, while fleeing every true battle. They and their kind are destined for eternal oblivion in history’s trash heaps, where masks fall, hollow voices fade, and only truth remains a witness to their failure. A true intellectual is not one who memorizes phrases, but one who has the courage to speak truth no matter the cost. Those chose silence when speech was duty, and absence when presence was an obligation.

I never sought a position, a title, or personal gain. I was never a merchant of loyalty, nor did I ever place my dignity upon the bargaining table. I have always believed that dignity is more precious than any office, and that those who walk with firm steps have no place among flatterers and pretenders who considered hypocrisy a skill and arrogance a virtue. I was never tempted by applause, nor did I build ambition upon hollow pillars. My goal was always to remain honest with myself first, and with my people second. Because I never chased titles, I was never forced to abandon my principles.

I did not enter this field by choice, but I am not one who withdraws when he knows the truth. I could not watch serpents gnaw at the body of my people, nor remain silent while vagrants pledged allegiance to others and sold themselves cheaply. The braggart thought himself noble until his greed overwhelmed him, and thus he lost himself. I could open the old notebooks, and this message is a pledge, not a threat. To those who believe that in two days they can issue commands, I say: in this field there is no loyalty but to reason and knowledge. Whoever thinks he still lives in the age of the herd is deluded, for the age of blind following is over.

My message today, to all my people, is long, perhaps my last. I say to you honestly: do not lean on those who sell you slogans, do not trust those who shower you with resonant speeches that neither satisfy hunger nor quench thirst. Your time is in your hands, your destiny in your will. Do not believe that a handful of scatterers will steer your ship to safe shores—for they are drowning in a swamp of their own making, needing rescue themselves. Whoever promises you easy salvation deceives you, and whoever raises his voice in forums without real work is stealing your time and hope.

The braggart thinks himself lofty, the pretender imagines himself renowned, and all of them cry cold tears when wealth slips from their hands. I grieve for those who are gone, but my hope lies in those who remain—those of my people whose hearts were never sold, whose consciences were never bought.

Years I spent in this work—many assumed others more capable than I, but they did not realize that among us are those whose loyalty cannot be bought, whom defamation cannot topple, whom gains cannot tempt. No one knew that what I speak today is nothing but the echo of a soul unsullied by interests, and a mind unbent before tyranny.

Let it be known to all: our hearts were pure only because we carried knowledge sincerely, our tongues shone only with the light of understanding, our souls endured only because they clung to truth, not to falsehood.

To those who thought they unsettled me, I say: your party statement, before you even read it, I was the one placing its dots and letters. And most of you—despite your noise—are still in the elementary stage of awareness. Sadly, the fate of our people has fallen into the hands of barefooted ones whose only concern is possession at the expense of despising others, with minds sunk in narrow interests that made them see the people as a tool, not an end. They never understood that whoever scorns his people scorns himself, and whoever sells the people’s will sells himself first.

History will curse you, for nothing endures. History does not forgive those who stray, nor glorify those who betray. Just as victories are recorded in pages of glory, betrayals are inscribed in the margins of shame. And how easily names are erased from memory when their presence becomes synonymous with disgrace and dishonor. Experience taught me that oblivion is the harshest punishment for those who betrayed their cause—for man lives to be remembered, but when remembrance becomes shame, he wishes his name had never been born.

O my people, ask your parties, ask your organizations: where is the end? What is the end?

You will hear no answer, for they have surpassed the logic of reason, sunk into the swamp of interests, losing all ability to think of the people’s future. How can those who never managed beginnings promise an end? How can those who betrayed their people’s trust guide them to safe shores? They have become like a ship without a sail, tossed by the waves, knowing not to which shore it drifts.

As for me, I ask nothing of you. I pledge before you to continue according to my vision—a vision that cannot be bought at any price. My heart was pure only because my knowledge endured, my words stood firm only because they came from a spirit that never bowed, my dignity soared only because it was never sold in the markets of allegiance. As long as I live, I shall remain faithful to truth, loyal to a cause that does not die, and a witness to an era history will not forget.

And because I write today not to settle scores but to place the dots upon the letters, I end my message with a sincere call: to all my people, do not wait for salvation from outside, do not bet on hollow slogans. Create your salvation with your own hands, plant hope in your soil, and be as you have always been—firmer than the wind, stronger than the storms, and more enduring than all falsehood. The future is made by the loyal, not the exploiters; history is written by the truthful, not the hypocrites.

Salute to those who remained faithful to the covenant and preserved the bread and salt—and woe, shame, and damnation to those disgraced as the poisoned chameleon.

#Milad_Korkis #MXR #National_Politics #National_Media #Syriac_Identity #Dignity_Before_Interest #Word_of_Truth #My_People