Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs.

The philosopher Isaiah Berlin, in his wisdom, once declared: “Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs.” These words cut to the heart of an eternal paradox—the conflict between freedom and justice, between power and innocence. For not all freedom is pure, and not all liberty leads to peace. There are freedoms that uplift the soul, and there are freedoms that devour the weak. The wolf may cry for liberty to roam, but the lamb trembles, for that same liberty becomes its doom. Thus, Berlin reminds us that true liberty cannot exist without moral restraint, for when the strong are free to oppress, the weak are condemned to perish.

In the dawn of civilizations, humanity learned that unbridled freedom leads to chaos. The mighty took what they wished, and the gentle suffered in silence. From that storm of cruelty arose the first laws—not to chain the spirit of man, but to protect the innocent from the tyranny of the powerful. The ancients understood that justice is the shield of the meek, the boundary that turns savage liberty into noble order. Without such balance, civilization itself withers, and the wolves once more prowl through the night, feasting upon the helpless.

Consider the tale of the French Revolution. Once, the people rose in righteous fury against kings who had grown fat upon their labor. They cried for liberty, for equality, for the dignity of man. Yet in the absence of order, that same cry became the howl of the wolves. The Revolution devoured its children; blood ran through the streets of Paris, and the guillotine became the altar of freedom unrestrained. What began as a struggle for justice turned into tyranny of chaos, proving that liberty, without wisdom and compassion, transforms into destruction.

So too, in the modern age, do we witness wolves cloaked in the language of freedom. They claim the right to exploit, to deceive, to harm, and they name it liberty. But freedom that tramples others is not freedom—it is dominion, a disguise for greed. The lambs, innocent and trusting, are told they must endure for the sake of progress, and so they suffer in silence while the strong grow stronger. This is the false liberty Isaiah Berlin warned against—the liberty that feeds upon the blood of the gentle and the kind.

True freedom is not the absence of restraint, but the presence of justice. It is the harmony between strength and compassion, power and mercy. Just as a river is most beautiful when it flows within its banks, so too is freedom most glorious when guided by conscience. A society that forgets this truth will decay from within, for the liberty of wolves cannot coexist with the life of lambs. The wise must guard against this corruption, for unchecked liberty is the seed of tyranny.

Remember the lesson of Mahatma Gandhi, who sought freedom not through violence, but through moral strength. He understood that liberty gained by cruelty is no liberty at all. His resistance was fierce, yet peaceful; powerful, yet pure. He proved that one could confront the wolves without becoming one. His victory was not only for India, but for the human spirit itself—showing that true freedom uplifts all, harming none.

Let the young and the strong therefore learn: freedom is a sacred responsibility. It demands restraint, humility, and empathy. To seek liberty only for oneself is to forget the divine balance that binds us all. The true test of freedom is how it protects the powerless. Every choice we make—whether as individuals or nations—should honor this truth: our liberty must never come at the cost of another’s life or dignity.

So heed this ancient wisdom—guard the lambs, and guide the wolves. Let your strength be tempered by compassion, your ambition bound by justice. For a world where the wolves run free is not a world of liberty, but of sorrow. And only when we choose mercy over dominance, and fairness over pride, will freedom become not a weapon, but a light—one that shines for all, and leaves no soul in darkness.