Affirmative action is an effort to include every aspect of

In the days of old, when sages spoke not merely to the present but to the unborn, words were weighed like gold and carried as torches through the darkened corridors of time. Thus speaks Andrew Young: “Affirmative action is an effort to include every aspect of society in the decision making.” Hear these words not as a fleeting breath, but as a summons to justice and wholeness. For he reminds us that no council is wise if its table is set for only the powerful, no vision is true if it blinds itself to the voices of the multitude.

In its origin, affirmative action arose in the fires of struggle, when the oppressed demanded not charity, but a rightful place in shaping the destiny of the land they had built, tilled, and defended. It was not born of weakness, but of strength—the strength of a people who refused to vanish into the margins of history. In the United States, it found its form in the 1960s, as laws and policies sought to unshackle those who had been bound by centuries of exclusion. Its spirit, however, is as old as the cry of any outcast who has ever said: “I too am human, I too belong.”

Consider the story of the Civil Rights Movement itself. When Rosa Parks refused to surrender her seat, her act was not a plea for comfort—it was a demand to be counted in the decisions that governed her life. When Martin Luther King Jr. spoke of his dream, he did not envision a kingdom ruled by one race alone, but a table of brotherhood where all would have a voice. And Andrew Young, who marched beside him, carried forward that truth: that democracy cannot be whole if it silences the many in favor of the few.

What is decision making, if not the weaving of fate? And if some threads are cast aside, is not the fabric of society torn and incomplete? When the farmer, the teacher, the mother, the laborer, the immigrant, and the elder are brought into the council, wisdom flows like a river from many springs. But when only the lords of wealth and privilege speak, the water stagnates, and the land grows barren. Affirmative action is the hand that opens the gate, that says: “Come, bring your story, your struggle, your genius—for without you, the vision is broken.”

Yet let none mistake this for favoritism. No, it is balance restored, harmony reclaimed. It is not raising one above another, but lifting all into the circle of destiny. In ancient councils, the tribes gathered not only the warriors, but the healers, the elders, the children who would inherit the earth. For each carried a wisdom the others lacked. So too must modern nations gather their daughters and sons, black and white, rich and poor, native-born and stranger, lest their decisions be hollow and their future dim.

The lesson is clear, O listener: inclusion is strength, exclusion is decay. If you would walk the path of justice, you must first listen. If you would govern, you must invite. If you would create, you must allow many hands to shape the clay. The tower built by the few may rise swiftly, but it shall crumble in the storm. The house built by all may be slower in its raising, but it shall endure for generations.

What then shall you do? In your own councils—whether at work, at home, or in the city square—make room for the silent voice. Ask who is not yet heard, and bring them forward. When decisions are made, do not seek only those who mirror your own thought, but those who challenge it, for iron sharpens iron, and truth is born from many fires. Let your heart be wide, your table long, and your spirit humble enough to learn from all.

So remember the words of Andrew Young. For they are not a slogan, but a covenant: that the promise of democracy, of brotherhood, of shared destiny, lies in the effort—the continual, sacred effort—to include every soul in the shaping of tomorrow. And when you rise to speak, may your voice be strong, not only for yourself, but for those who history tried to silence. For in their inclusion, the future of humanity is secured.