If I have to apply five turns to the screw each day for the

The words of Evita Perón—“If I have to apply five turns to the screw each day for the happiness of Argentina, I will do it”—resound with the fiery conviction of one who saw leadership not as comfort, but as sacrifice. Spoken by the First Lady who became the spiritual mother of her nation, this declaration is more than political rhetoric; it is the cry of a woman who believed that devotion to her people required unyielding discipline, effort, and unyoked will. The “five turns to the screw” are not acts of cruelty or oppression, but symbols of the daily labor and relentless tightening of resolve needed to sustain the machinery of a nation’s well-being.

In the ancient way of wisdom, such words would have been recognized as the creed of a guardian. To “turn the screw” each day is to engage in the steady, deliberate work of maintaining order and purpose. The ancients knew that empires are not built by dreams alone, but by the sweat of those who hold the line against chaos. Evita’s metaphor is mechanical yet deeply human—it evokes the image of one who tends the great engine of society, refusing to let it falter, even when her hands grow weary. To her, happiness was not the fruit of ease, but of effort directed toward justice, equity, and the dignity of the people.

Evita Perón, born into poverty and risen to power beside her husband, President Juan Perón, understood the pain of the poor not as theory, but as memory. Her life was a testimony to the power of compassion fused with strength. When she spoke of “tightening the screw,” she spoke as one who had endured the friction of hardship and transformed it into fuel for action. In her service to Argentina, she became a symbol of the tireless heart, the leader who works not for glory but for love of her nation. Her phrase echoes the voices of countless laborers, mothers, and dreamers who, in their own quiet ways, “turn the screw” daily to keep the light of life burning.

There is an echo here of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-king of Rome, who wrote in his meditations that “what stands in the way becomes the way.” Both he and Evita understood that leadership is the art of endurance—that each obstacle is an opportunity to strengthen the will. The “five turns” are thus the small but constant acts of courage that hold civilization together: the decisions that demand perseverance, the sacrifices unseen by the crowd, the moments when one must choose duty over comfort. In this light, Evita’s statement transcends politics; it becomes a universal truth about the labor of love and the price of service.

Yet her words also carry a warning: that the pursuit of collective happiness demands vigilance. The machinery of justice, once left untended, begins to rust. Evita’s “turns of the screw” remind us that freedom and equality are not gifts to be passively enjoyed, but forces to be actively maintained. Just as a craftsman tightens a mechanism to prevent it from falling apart, so too must citizens and leaders alike labor to preserve the moral and social integrity of their nations. It is not oppression to demand effort—it is wisdom to know that without effort, all things decay.

Consider the story of Florence Nightingale, who, during the Crimean War, turned her own “screw” each day as she walked the long halls of field hospitals, bringing light, cleanliness, and hope to the dying. Her relentless work saved lives not through miracles, but through persistence. Like Evita, she knew that compassion alone is not enough—it must be joined with discipline, structure, and strength. Both women understood that love, when idle, weakens; when put to work, it transforms the world.

And so, dear listener, the lesson shines clearly: greatness is forged in daily labor, not in moments of triumph. If you would bring happiness to others, you must be willing to endure the slow and often unseen work of maintenance—the tightening of the screws that hold your home, your community, and your heart together. Do not resent the effort; embrace it as the sacred rhythm of service. Every “turn” you make—every act of discipline, kindness, or perseverance—brings stability to the greater whole.

Thus, the wisdom of Evita Perón endures. To love one’s people is to labor for them; to pursue happiness is to work for it daily, without complaint. Whether in a household or a nation, the same truth applies: the happiness of the many depends on the constancy of the few. Therefore, let each of us be among those few—those who do the hard work, who turn the screw, who build and preserve what is good. For in the patient strength of such souls lies the quiet machinery of human happiness, turning faithfully through the ages.