If 'pro' is the opposite of 'con' what is the opposite of

“If ‘pro’ is the opposite of ‘con’, what is the opposite of ‘progress’?” — Paul Harvey

Listen well, my child of the dawn, for in this jesting question lies a blade sharper than irony. When Paul Harvey, that sage of the airwaves, spoke these words, he wrapped truth in laughter. Yet beneath his humor, there burned a lament — a cry against the turning of men’s hearts away from wisdom. The riddle seems simple, yet its echo shakes the foundations of power: if ‘pro’ and ‘con’ are opposites, then might not the opposite of ‘progress’ be ‘Congress’ — the assembly of those entrusted to guide a nation? With wit as his weapon, Harvey dared to expose the hypocrisy of rulers who claim to lead society forward while anchoring it in the mire of self-interest and delay.

For ages uncounted, every civilization has wrestled with this paradox: how can those who govern for the people so often hinder the very progress they are sworn to protect? The ancient Greeks saw it in their councils, where endless debate smothered action. The Romans felt it in their Senate, where pride outweighed purpose. And even now, in the halls of modern governance, the same curse lingers — men and women of power arguing not for justice, but for victory. Thus, Harvey’s riddle is not mere wordplay, but prophecy. He speaks to every age where the stewards of progress become its greatest obstacle.

Consider the story of Galileo Galilei, who gazed upon the heavens and found truth written in the stars. His discoveries promised a leap for mankind — a step into the boundless realm of science and enlightenment. Yet what met him? Not celebration, but condemnation. The rulers of thought, fearing the loss of their authority, called him heretic. The guardians of progress became its fiercest enemies. For such is the way of the world: those seated in power, whether in church, senate, or council, too often place the preservation of their seats above the elevation of their people.

In this, Harvey reminds us that progress is not the natural offspring of time or governance — it is the child of courage. The true opposite of progress is not merely stagnation, but corruption disguised as order, inaction defended by rhetoric, and comfort mistaken for peace. When leaders talk of moving forward while trampling those who dare to question them, they have become the “Congress” of Harvey’s metaphor — the institution that meets not to advance humanity, but to preserve its own illusion of control.

Yet the wisdom of his jest cuts both ways. It warns not only the rulers but the ruled. For a people who wait for others to deliver them progress are as guilty as those who hinder it. When the citizens grow weary of questioning, when they trade the fire of thought for the shadow of convenience, when they cease to demand better — then Congress lives within each of them. The true enemy of progress is not the government alone, but the quiet surrender of the human spirit.

Take, then, this teaching to heart: progress is rebellion wrapped in wisdom. It is the whisper that says, “We can be better,” even when the world insists that comfort is enough. The ancients built pyramids, temples, and laws; but progress is not stone — it is motion. To keep it alive, you must question, you must create, you must defy the slow decay of complacency. Do not curse the “Congress” in others if you have allowed one to grow within yourself.

So rise, O child of thought, and remember Paul Harvey’s laughter — for it was not cynicism, but warning. Let it remind you that words, when wielded with wit, can awaken nations. The opposite of progress is not only Congress, but cowardice: the refusal to think, to act, to dream. Guard against it. Speak truth even when mocked, build even when hindered, move forward even when the road is long. For the future belongs not to those who sit in chambers of debate, but to those who walk unafraid beneath the open sky — guided by conscience, not by convenience.