If we put our trust in the common sense of common men and 'with

Hear, O inheritors of liberty, the stirring words of Henry A. Wallace, who proclaimed: “If we put our trust in the common sense of common men and ‘with malice toward none and charity for all’ go forward on the great adventure of making political, economic and social democracy a practical reality, we shall not fail.” These words, uttered in the shadow of world war and in the dawn of new hope, were not crafted for flattery but for guidance. They carry the weight of a promise: that the destiny of nations rests not in the hands of the few, but in the wisdom and decency of the many.

What is it to put trust in the common sense of common men? It is to believe that truth does not dwell only in gilded chambers or among those crowned with privilege, but in the hearts of ordinary people who labor, who sacrifice, who live close to the soil of reality. Wallace’s vision was born of the American tradition—that democracy survives not because of rulers’ brilliance, but because the people themselves hold an innate sense of justice, fairness, and balance. The farmer, the worker, the teacher, the mother—all carry within them a wisdom that no empire of elites can ever replace.

Wallace borrowed the immortal phrase, “with malice toward none and charity for all,” from Abraham Lincoln, who spoke them in his second inaugural address, as the Civil War’s bloody tide began to ebb. Lincoln, standing at the heart of a divided nation, sought not vengeance upon the defeated but healing for the whole. Wallace, decades later, reached back to this spirit, urging a world shattered by war to choose compassion over malice, to carry forward the democratic experiment not with hatred but with generosity of heart.

History itself offers proof of this vision. Consider the Marshall Plan, which rebuilt Europe after the devastation of World War II. The United States could have chosen malice, demanding tribute from defeated enemies. Instead, with charity for all, it invested in rebuilding even former foes like Germany and Italy. Out of this act of generosity came not renewed war but decades of peace and prosperity, as once-hostile nations became allies. This is democracy in action—not merely ballots, but policies rooted in trust, compassion, and fairness.

Yet Wallace did not speak only of politics—he envisioned a great adventure: the building of political, economic, and social democracy together. For democracy is not complete if it stops at the ballot box. It must also live in fair wages, equal opportunity, education for every child, justice before the law, and dignity in every home. To Wallace, democracy was not a dream of parchment, but a living practice—a way of life where freedom is shared not by the few but by all.

O children of tomorrow, take this lesson to heart: democracy is fragile unless tended with trust, justice, and compassion. When malice rules, nations fracture. When elites scorn the wisdom of ordinary people, liberty decays. But when trust is placed in the common man, when malice is cast aside, when charity governs our dealings, then democracy flourishes like a tree rooted in fertile ground.

The practical path is clear: in your own life, respect the voice of your neighbor, even when it differs from your own. In your community, work not for vengeance but for reconciliation. In your nation, demand leaders who embody charity and justice, not malice and greed. And above all, never forget that democracy is not a gift to be received, but a work to be built—day by day, choice by choice, sacrifice by sacrifice.

So let the words of Henry A. Wallace echo like a covenant across generations: “If we trust in the common sense of common men… we shall not fail.” Live them, teach them, embody them. For the adventure of democracy is not yet ended, and its triumph depends not on kings or generals, but on you—the ordinary made extraordinary through trust, courage, and compassion.