Daniel Ellsberg showed tremendous courage back in the '70s.

“Daniel Ellsberg showed tremendous courage back in the '70s.” — In these few words spoken by Barton Gellman, there echoes a story as grand as any told by the ancients — a tale of conscience defying power, of truth standing naked before the storm. For courage, in its truest form, is not found in the clash of swords or the roar of crowds, but in the quiet resolve of a soul that refuses to betray what it knows to be right. Ellsberg’s act was not born of rage or rebellion, but of the deep and dangerous conviction that truth must serve the people, even when it condemns the powerful.

In the early 1970s, the air of America was heavy with the smoke of war and deception. The Vietnam War, long and bloody, had drawn the nation into a pit of despair and doubt. Behind the polished speeches of leaders lay a mountain of hidden lies — reports, secrets, and documents that revealed a truth too grim for the public eye. It was from within this darkness that Ellsberg emerged, a man once trusted by the government he would come to defy. A scholar, a strategist, a patriot — he turned against his own masters not for fame, but for conscience. He released what came to be known as the Pentagon Papers, revealing that the war had been prolonged by deceit and pride, not by necessity or hope.

This was no small rebellion. To do what he did was to invite the wrath of the empire. He risked his freedom, his honor, even his life. The state sought to crush him, as it does all who lift the veil from its hidden face. Yet Ellsberg did not flinch. He walked calmly into the jaws of accusation, holding only the truth as his shield. Such is the essence of tremendous courage — not the absence of fear, but the triumph of principle over it. The ancients would have called him a man of virtus, one whose inner strength rises above the power of kings.

In the wisdom of ages past, it was said that a man’s soul is tested not in comfort, but in conflict. Like Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods to enlighten mankind, Ellsberg took knowledge meant to be hidden and gave it to the people. And like Prometheus, he was punished for it — yet through that suffering, the world saw the fire of moral courage burn brighter. His act ignited a movement of questioning, of accountability, of citizens learning to look their rulers in the eye and ask, “Why have you lied to us?” From that act of truth-telling came the modern spirit of whistleblowing — the belief that loyalty to justice is greater than loyalty to power.

Let it be remembered, then, that courage is not found in blind defiance, but in faithful rebellion — rebellion against falsehood, against fear, against silence. The courageous man does not seek chaos; he seeks clarity. He knows that every lie told in the dark is a chain that binds the spirit of the people. Ellsberg’s strength was not that of muscle or might, but of conscience sharpened by wisdom. The ancients would have likened him to a philosopher-warrior, one who fights not with weapons, but with truth.

And yet, courage such as his is not the province of heroes alone. It belongs to every soul who dares to speak honestly when silence would be easier. It lives in the worker who tells the truth at the cost of comfort, the artist who reveals the world’s hypocrisy, the friend who stands against wrong even when alone. To walk in Ellsberg’s footsteps is to understand that truth demands sacrifice, and that silence, though safer, is the slow death of the soul.

So learn from this, my child: Courage is the highest form of integrity. It asks for nothing but your heart, and it gives in return the peace of self-respect. When the world commands you to bow before injustice, stand upright and speak — even if your voice trembles. When the powerful threaten, remember Ellsberg, who faced them with nothing but the truth in his hands. For power fades, but courage endures.

And so we honor the words of Barton Gellman not merely as praise for one man, but as a call to all generations: Be brave in the face of falsehood. Defend the light when shadows rise. Let your courage be your legacy — for in the end, it is not the safe who are remembered, but the truthful, and not the silent who change the world, but the brave.