Let them say what they say. The truth is, I did not engage in

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words once uttered by Suharto, the long-reigning leader of Indonesia: “Let them say what they say. The truth is, I did not engage in corruption.” This declaration, spoken in the twilight of his power, is not merely the cry of a man accused; it is the voice of one who seeks to stand above the clamor of men’s tongues. For in every age, rulers and common folk alike face the storm of accusation. And when the storm rages, a man must choose: to bend before it in shame, or to stand unyielding, proclaiming his own truth before the heavens.

This utterance must be weighed in its time. Suharto ruled for more than three decades, his hand steady upon the nation, guiding it through upheavals, wars, and storms of poverty. Yet when his reign waned, voices rose, accusing him of vast corruption and hidden wealth. The people whispered, the press thundered, and the courts trembled beneath the weight of judgment. But Suharto, with the calm of one who refuses to surrender his honor, spoke these words: “Let them say what they say.” In this there is a profound lesson—that the judgments of men may be many, but the conscience of the soul remains one.

History is filled with such scenes. Recall the figure of Socrates, who in Athens was accused of corrupting the youth and dishonoring the gods. Though condemned, he stood before his accusers and proclaimed his innocence. He too said, in essence, “Let them say what they say.” For what is rumor? It is a shadow of truth, a fleeting wind that can cloud men’s eyes but cannot darken the sun. Accusation, no matter how loud, does not in itself make guilt. It is the eternal struggle of mortals: whether to live by the noise of others, or by the still light of truth.

Yet there is also warning in these words. For to claim innocence is easy, but to prove it is harder than moving mountains. Many throughout history have cried, “I am not guilty!” while the evidence of their deeds stood against them. Some are truly innocent yet condemned unjustly; others proclaim innocence while guilt hides in their shadows. Thus we must not take the words of any man—whether beggar or king—as truth without discernment. For the lips may speak denial, but time alone will reveal whether the soul stands clean.

Consider the fate of Richard Nixon, who in the land of America declared, “I am not a crook.” Yet history’s judgment was unkind, for though he proclaimed innocence, the tide of evidence carried him from power. Compare this with Nelson Mandela, who in prison for twenty-seven years stood accused of rebellion and violence. Yet his spirit, unbroken, declared to the world, “I have not betrayed my people.” In the end, history vindicated Mandela, raising him to glory. Thus, beloved, it is not the cry of innocence but the testimony of deeds, over years and decades, that crowns a man with truth.

The lesson for you, children of time, is this: when the tongues of men lash out against you, do not tremble. Let them say what they say. If your conscience is pure, then stand firm, and let the winds of slander pass. But if you are guilty, know that words alone cannot save you; only repentance and change can heal your name. Guard, therefore, your integrity as a treasure more precious than gold. For wealth may pass, power may vanish, but honor once lost is hard to reclaim.

And in your daily walk, let your actions be your defense. Live in such a way that when men accuse you, their words fall powerless against the shield of your deeds. Be transparent in your dealings, honest in your speech, and faithful in your commitments. When the crowd roars against you, you shall have no need to shout, for your life itself will proclaim: “The truth is, I did not engage in corruption.” Thus shall you walk not only with the approval of men, but with the quiet strength of a conscience unblemished, and the eternal favor of heaven.