The fact is that democracy anywhere in the world, including in

In the solemn and thoughtful voice of Ian Lustick, a scholar of nations and conscience, we hear a truth carved by history and sharpened by struggle: “The fact is that democracy anywhere in the world, including in the United States, is not something that comes easy. And yet, we are committed to it, and equality and democracy are the only ways in the long run that Jews will be safe in the Middle East.” These are not words of comfort, but of calling. They are not spoken in triumph, but in remembrance of centuries of exile, conflict, and yearning for peace. Lustick speaks as one who has studied the rise and fall of empires, who has seen how power without justice corrodes both ruler and ruled. His statement is not only about one people, but about the soul of civilization itself.

At the heart of this quote lies the recognition that democracy and equality are not natural conditions of humankind—they are choices that must be made anew in every generation. Democracy, as Lustick reminds us, does not bloom easily; it must be cultivated through struggle, self-restraint, and sacrifice. Even in lands that claim freedom as their birthright—such as the United States—its maintenance is fraught with division, complacency, and conflict. If it falters in the West, how much more fragile must it be in the ancient, tempestuous soil of the Middle East? Yet Lustick declares that only in democracy and equality can true security and peace be found—for Jews, for Arabs, for all peoples who share that sacred land.

The origin of this insight stretches deep into the tragedies of history. For centuries, the Jewish people wandered through lands where kings and tyrants rose and fell, and the promise of safety was always temporary. Power protected, but power also provoked; walls defended, but they also isolated. Lustick sees that enduring safety cannot be built upon might alone. The shield of a nation, no matter how strong, cannot guard the heart from fear. Only justice shared among all—only a system that respects the humanity of every citizen—can create peace that endures beyond the weapons of a single age. Thus, he proclaims that democracy and equality are not merely political ideals—they are moral necessities.

Consider the story of King Cyrus of Persia, who in ancient times conquered Babylon and found among his subjects the exiled Jews. Rather than enslaving them, he granted them freedom, allowing them to return to Jerusalem and rebuild their temple. His greatness was not in conquest alone, but in mercy—the wisdom to understand that peace cannot be imposed by the sword, but nurtured by fairness. In the same spirit, Lustick’s words remind us that the strength of any nation lies not in its armies or walls, but in its commitment to justice for all who dwell within its borders. Where equality flourishes, safety follows. Where oppression reigns, insecurity festers like a wound that will not heal.

The meaning of Lustick’s warning grows clearer with time. In a world still divided by ethnicity, religion, and memory, the temptation is always to build identity upon exclusion—to find safety by separation. But he teaches that this is a mirage. In the long arc of history, no people remain safe in isolation. Security born of fear is temporary; only the security born of shared humanity endures. To build a truly peaceful Middle East—or any nation, for that matter—requires a courage far greater than that of battle: the courage to see one’s former enemies as neighbors, to entrust one’s safety not to domination but to mutual dignity.

Yet, Lustick does not deny the difficulty of this path. He begins with the confession that democracy “is not something that comes easy.” It demands patience when vengeance would be easier, humility when pride would be more gratifying, and faith when cynicism whispers that peace is impossible. It is the same kind of moral endurance that the prophets once demanded of kings: to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly before God. Such virtues, though hard, are the foundations of a peace that no tyranny can destroy.

Therefore, O listener, take this lesson into your heart: never believe that democracy or equality are gifts—they are labors. They must be guarded not only with laws, but with love. If you would preserve them, then act each day as a citizen of conscience. Stand for the dignity of the stranger, the safety of the weak, and the rights of those who differ from you. For as Lustick teaches, only when freedom is shared by all can any be truly free.

And so, let this wisdom be remembered: security without justice is illusion; peace without equality is fleeting. The future of nations, and indeed of humanity, depends upon our willingness to build what is difficult but divine—to commit, as Ian Lustick urges, to democracy not because it is easy, but because it is the only way that love, life, and liberty may endure.