If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow.

"If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow." Thus spoke Émile Zola, a prophet of courage in an age of corruption. His words thunder across the centuries, reminding us that truth is a living thing, not a fragile whisper. It cannot be smothered forever beneath lies, nor entombed by fear. Like a seed planted deep in the soil, it may lie unseen for a season, but in time it bursts forth, stronger, taller, and more radiant than before. The effort to silence truth does not kill it; it only makes its voice more inevitable.

The origin of this saying rises from Zola’s own life. In the Dreyfus Affair, when injustice and deceit coiled around France like a serpent, Zola stood forth and cried “J’Accuse!” against the mighty and the corrupt. They sought to silence him, to banish him, to bury his words in shame and exile. Yet his truth took root in the hearts of people. What was meant to be suppressed grew instead into a movement that shook the foundations of power, until justice at last was forced to emerge. His words proved the very law he declared: truth grows stronger in darkness, for it hungers for the light.

History offers countless other testimonies. Think of the early Christians, persecuted and driven underground, their faith condemned as heresy. Rome sought to silence them with prisons and lions, yet the more they were buried in catacombs and blood-soaked arenas, the more their truth grew. From those hidden places, their message spread across the world, outlasting the empire that sought to erase it. For truth, once planted, becomes a root system unstoppable by force.

So too with the tale of Galileo, who was forced to recant before the Inquisition, to bury his discovery that the earth moved around the sun. They thought the truth buried beneath fear and silence. Yet it lived, it grew, until it reshaped not only science but the human vision of the universe. For though men may try to cover it with the soil of oppression, truth has a life of its own. It is as fire beneath the earth: the longer it is hidden, the greater the eruption when it breaks free.

The lesson is stern and mighty: do not fear when truth is buried, nor despair when lies seem to triumph. Lies are temporary; truth is eternal. Lies are brittle shells; truth is the seed that breaks them apart. When you stand for truth and are silenced, know that your silence is not the end but the beginning of growth. And when you witness others hiding truth, beware—what they bury today will rise tomorrow with a force too great to contain.

Practically, this means we must be guardians of patience as well as courage. Speak truth when you can, but if it is forced into silence, trust that it will find its hour. Plant it in writing, in memory, in action—so that even if suppressed, it will take root in hidden soil. Support those who suffer for speaking truth, for they are sowers of the harvest to come.

So, children of tomorrow, remember Zola’s wisdom: truth cannot be entombed. To bury it is to nourish it, to silence it is to amplify it, to deny it is to ensure its eventual triumph. Therefore, do not fear the darkness, nor the weight of the earth upon truth’s shoulders. For in time, the stone will be rolled away, and the seed will split the soil, rising into light unquenchable, eternal, and free.