I hope to see the bringing together of all the best educated

The Marquis de Condorcet, philosopher of the Enlightenment and martyr of reason, once said: “I hope to see the bringing together of all the best educated people of the earth into a worldwide Congress of Scientists.” These words, luminous and prophetic, were born in an age of revolution — an age when humanity was first daring to believe that knowledge could unite men more powerfully than kings could divide them. Condorcet, a man of both intellect and conviction, envisioned a future where wisdom, not wealth or war, would bind the nations together. He dreamed not of conquest, but of collaboration — of a brotherhood of minds gathered beneath the banner of truth.

In his time, the world was torn by upheaval. The fires of the French Revolution burned through thrones and dogmas alike. Yet amid this storm, Condorcet turned his gaze beyond the chaos of the present toward the light of posterity. He believed that if the learned and the virtuous could unite across borders — if reason could triumph over ignorance, and science over superstition — then mankind could advance not in arms, but in understanding. His worldwide Congress of Scientists was not a mere assembly of scholars; it was a vision of humanity perfected through shared knowledge. It was the dream of an age when discovery would replace domination, and curiosity would silence cruelty.

Condorcet’s words echo the eternal human longing for unity. From the ancient academies of Greece to the House of Wisdom in Baghdad, from the universities of the Renaissance to the laboratories of the modern world, men and women of intellect have always reached beyond their own nations, seeking truth that belongs to all. For truth knows no borders. It speaks one language — the language of reason, experiment, and insight. And thus, the philosopher’s vision was more than political; it was spiritual. It was a belief that knowledge, shared freely, could heal the divisions of race, faith, and power — that the mind of mankind could rise higher than the walls men build between themselves.

Consider the story of the International Space Station, a monument of our own age that fulfills, in part, Condorcet’s ancient hope. High above the earth, men and women from different nations — Americans, Russians, Japanese, Europeans — work side by side, not as enemies or rivals, but as seekers of truth. Their experiments are for all humanity, not for any single flag. Up there, in the silence between stars, the petty quarrels of nations fade, and what remains is the pure collaboration of intellect — a living reflection of the Congress that Condorcet once imagined. His dream, delayed by centuries, now glimmers among the constellations.

And yet, this dream remains incomplete. For though science has advanced beyond his wildest hopes, wisdom has not always kept pace with knowledge. The same discoveries that can heal the sick can also destroy the innocent. The same networks that can unite the world can also divide it. Condorcet foresaw this danger — he believed that education must walk hand in hand with virtue, and that enlightenment without morality is a sword without a hilt. Thus, the Congress of Scientists he envisioned was not a gathering of intellects alone, but of enlightened souls — thinkers who would use their gifts to uplift, not to rule.

Let us then take from his words a lesson both urgent and eternal: knowledge must be shared, not hoarded; used for peace, not pride. Each person, however humble, is called to take part in the great conversation of humanity — to learn, to question, to contribute. The age Condorcet dreamed of will not come from the gathering of a few, but from the awakening of many. Every act of understanding, every moment of curiosity, is a step toward his vision. When we learn from one another, across nations, faiths, and generations, we build the very worldwide Congress he foresaw.

So, children of tomorrow, remember this truth: the unity of minds is the highest form of peace. The swords of conquerors rust and vanish, but an idea — once spoken, once shared — becomes immortal. Condorcet’s words still call out to us across the centuries, bidding us to build bridges of knowledge where walls once stood. Let us answer that call. Let us learn not only to know, but to understand; not only to discover, but to serve. Then the day will come when all the best-educated souls of earth shall meet — not in one hall or one city, but in the boundless fellowship of truth.

And on that day, the dream of Condorcet, the prophet of enlightenment, will be fulfilled — the nations will cease to speak of war, and will instead speak of wisdom. For the earth itself will have become what he imagined long ago: a Congress of Scientists, and a home for reason, peace, and light.