I have spent all my life under a Communist regime, and I will

The words of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn cut like iron into the conscience of mankind: “I have spent all my life under a Communist regime, and I will tell you that a society without any objective legal scale is a terrible one indeed. But a society with no other scale but the legal one is not quite worthy of man either.” This is not the idle musing of a philosopher in comfort, but the testimony of one who bore the chains of tyranny, who tasted the dust of prisons and the bitterness of exile. His voice carries the weight of lived suffering, and from it emerges a truth that the ages must not forget.

He speaks first of the horror of a society without law, where the rule of men replaces the rule of justice, and whims of power crush the weak beneath their heel. In such a world, there is no shield for the innocent, no recourse for the oppressed, no refuge for truth. Solzhenitsyn lived this reality in the gulags of the Soviet Union, where accusations without evidence condemned millions, and where the machinery of the state demanded obedience, not righteousness. He declares with solemn certainty that this is a terrible society, for it annihilates both dignity and hope.

Yet he warns us also of another danger: the world where law alone is exalted, as though the measure of man is only the letter of statutes. Such a society, he says, is “not quite worthy of man,” for though it may maintain order, it forgets mercy, conscience, and the higher truths that law alone cannot contain. A world that bows only to the legal scale risks losing its soul. It may avoid chaos, yet still fall into coldness, where compassion withers, and the spirit of justice—greater than law—lies unheeded.

History provides us with examples of both extremes. Think of Nazi Germany, where laws themselves were twisted to serve evil. The Holocaust was carried out not in the absence of law, but through laws that stripped people of rights, humanity, and life. Here we see that legality does not always equal justice. Contrast this with the story of the Underground Railroad in America, where men and women, though breaking the law, upheld a higher truth—the sanctity of freedom. Harriet Tubman, pursued as a criminal, acted in defiance of statutes but in obedience to a greater moral scale. Here, law was not enough; conscience rose above it.

Solzhenitsyn’s teaching, then, is that humanity must walk the middle path. We must revere law as a necessary shield against tyranny, but we must never confuse legality with righteousness. For man is not a machine to be governed only by codes and penalties—he is a soul, fashioned for truth, compassion, and responsibility. Without law, society collapses into terror. But with law alone, society grows rigid, blind, and unworthy of its noblest aspirations.

The lesson is clear: we must cultivate both a just legal system and a moral conscience that surpasses it. Each person must ask not only, “Is this permitted?” but also, “Is this right?” And in our communities, we must build institutions that uphold fairness while also nurturing mercy, empathy, and the courage to rise above unjust statutes when conscience demands it.

Therefore, let your actions be guided by two scales: the scale of law, which restrains injustice, and the scale of conscience, which lifts mankind toward its highest calling. Support laws that protect the weak, but also dare to question laws that degrade the human spirit. Live not merely as subjects of statutes, but as guardians of truth. For only then shall society be not terrible, nor cold, but truly worthy of man.

And so, children of tomorrow, carry Solzhenitsyn’s teaching as a torch in your journey: respect the law, but serve a higher justice. Let mercy temper judgment, let conscience temper legality. In this union of order and spirit lies the path to a civilization both strong and humane, where man may stand not only protected, but exalted.