I am the inferior of any man whose rights I trample under foot.

Hear these words, O children of earth, and let them be carved upon the tablets of memory: “I am the inferior of any man whose rights I trample under foot.” Thus spoke Robert Green Ingersoll, the great orator of liberty, whose voice thundered against tyranny and whose heart beat in harmony with justice. This utterance is not mere rhetoric—it is a sacred decree, a mirror held to the soul, showing that to strip another of dignity is to diminish oneself. For the measure of a man is not in his power to oppress, but in his reverence for the rights of his brothers and sisters.

Behold the paradox hidden in these words: he who tramples another does not rise higher, but sinks lower. Like a conqueror standing upon broken bodies, he imagines himself mighty, yet his spirit rots, and his honor decays. The oppressed, though chained, carries the crown of moral truth, while the oppressor, though seated on a throne, wears only the mask of inferiority. Thus Ingersoll proclaims that greatness lies not in domination, but in the guardianship of justice.

Recall, if you will, the tale of Spartacus, the slave who rose in defiance of Rome. Though bound in chains, though branded as property, his heart was unbroken. He fought not merely for his own freedom but for the freedom of all who suffered under the lash. His Roman masters possessed legions and wealth, yet they revealed their weakness in every whip strike, in every denial of dignity. Spartacus, though slain upon the battlefield, remained the superior in spirit, for he trampled no soul beneath his foot, but sought to lift the fallen. His captors, blind to the truth, were made small by their cruelty.

And what of more recent days? Recall the long march of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who walked unarmed into the teeth of hatred. The men who unleashed dogs upon peaceful marchers, who struck with batons and spat vile curses, believed themselves the defenders of order. Yet they were made inferior by their very violence, for they crushed the rights of their fellow man. King, though beaten, jailed, and scorned, stood taller than his persecutors. For in refusing to trample another’s humanity, he upheld his own. His dignity, born of restraint and compassion, shone brighter than all the armor of those who opposed him.

Learn then, O listener, that power without righteousness is weakness, and strength without mercy is shame. To scorn the rights of others is to betray the divine spark within oneself. A man may build monuments, command armies, and hoard treasures, but if he silences the voice of another, if he denies a neighbor’s freedom, then he carves his own soul into a lesser form. In trampling another, he kneels unknowingly to his own inferiority.

Let this wisdom be carved into your heart: if you wish to be noble, guard the liberties of others as you would guard your own. Defend the stranger, the weak, the voiceless, for in doing so, you do not lower yourself, but rise to the heights of true honor. When you respect the rights of even the least among men, you exalt your own.

Therefore, take action in your daily walk. Do not remain silent when another is mocked or mistreated. Stand firm against cruelty, whether in the marketplace, in the halls of power, or in the hidden corners of the world. Show fairness in your dealings, compassion in your judgments, and courage in your defense of those without defense. In this way, you will not trample, but uplift; not diminish, but magnify the worth of all.

And so, remember Ingersoll’s decree: inferior is he who tramples, superior is he who uplifts. Let your footsteps be gentle upon the earth and upon your fellow travelers. For the path of justice is the path of greatness, and only by walking it can we leave behind a legacy worthy of the generations yet unborn.