There are only two sides to this question. Every man must be for

Hear, O child of the republic, the fiery words of Stephen A. Douglas, spoken in the gathering storm of the American Civil War: “There are only two sides to this question. Every man must be for the United States or against it. There can be no neutrals in this war; only patriots and traitors.” These words cut like a blade, sharp and uncompromising. They reveal the truth of times when a nation stands upon the edge of ruin—when hesitation itself becomes betrayal, and when silence in the face of crisis is no less damning than open defiance.

The origin of this cry lies in 1861, after the guns of Fort Sumter thundered and the Union was torn asunder. Douglas, once a rival of Abraham Lincoln and a man of divided sympathies, laid aside political quarrels when he saw the republic in mortal peril. Though he had long sought compromise between North and South, he came to understand that compromise had perished in the smoke of war. In that hour, he declared that the time for neutrality was over. For in a house divided, there could be no middle ground: one either stood with the Union or against it. Thus he cast his voice to rally wavering hearts, demanding that each man choose his allegiance.

Consider the nature of such wars of survival. They are not like wars of ambition or conquest, where one may debate the merits of policy or the limits of power. They are struggles where the very life of the nation hangs in the balance. In such times, neutrality is not innocence, but abdication. Imagine the farmer of Pennsylvania or the shopkeeper of Illinois: if they refused to lend support, the armies would falter, the cause would fail. Douglas declared them not spectators but participants, whether they wished it or not. Thus his words remind us: when the fate of the whole is at stake, to abstain is to betray.

History gives us many echoes of this truth. Recall the American Revolution, when men debated whether to remain loyal to the crown or take up arms for liberty. Neutrality was a dream quickly dashed, for the war touched every farm, every town, every family. Loyalist or Patriot—each man was compelled to choose. So too in the French Resistance during the Second World War: under the Nazi boot, one could not remain neutral. To resist was to be hunted; to collaborate was to betray; to do nothing was to surrender. Douglas’s words capture this same principle—that in moments of crisis, neutrality is illusion, and the line between patriot and traitor cannot be blurred.

Yet these words also carry a burden of warning. For while they inspire unity in times of peril, they also remind us of the weight of judgment. To brand a man a traitor is no small thing. It must not be done lightly or in times of peace, where dissent may strengthen the nation. But in war for survival, where the very existence of a people is threatened, the demand for loyalty becomes absolute. Douglas spoke not to silence free debate forever, but to rally his nation in the crucible of civil war. His words were both sword and shield, binding men to the cause that the Union might endure.

The lesson for us, O listener, is this: there are seasons in history when neutrality is wisdom, and seasons when neutrality is cowardice. In ordinary times, cherish debate, allow dissent, for they are the lifeblood of liberty. But when the very foundation of freedom is assaulted—when survival itself hangs in the balance—then you must choose. Do not deceive yourself that standing aside absolves you; silence in the hour of trial is a choice, and often it is the choice of surrender.

Therefore, remember Douglas’s words: “There can be no neutrals in this war; only patriots and traitors.” Apply them wisely, with discernment, but carry their spirit into your own life. When justice is assaulted, stand with the just. When truth is threatened, stand with the true. When your community, your people, your freedom are in peril, do not retreat into neutrality. Choose, and let your choice be bold. For though peace may love compromise, survival demands courage. And in that hour, history will remember not the neutral, but the faithful.