There really can be no peace without justice. There can be no

Louis Farrakhan, with the weight of prophetic utterance, declared: “There really can be no peace without justice. There can be no justice without truth. And there can be no truth, unless someone rises up to tell you the truth.” These words are layered like the stones of a sacred temple, each resting upon the other, forming an unshakable foundation for human society. They teach us that peace, so often desired, cannot be won by silence, cannot be maintained by falsehood, and cannot be secured without courage.

The first stone is peace, that noble state of harmony among men and nations. Yet peace is not merely the absence of war, nor the quiet of submission. True peace must be rooted in justice, in fairness that respects the dignity of every soul. Without justice, peace is a fragile mask, ready to shatter with the first cry of the oppressed. The Roman Empire, though it boasted of its “Pax Romana,” achieved it by the sword, not by justice. And so, when the foundations rotted, the peace dissolved. Peace that ignores justice is but illusion.

The second stone is justice, and justice itself cannot live apart from truth. How can a judge rule rightly if he does not know the facts? How can a people be free if they are fed only lies? Justice without truth is like a scale without weight, a court without witness. When truth is hidden, justice becomes corruption, and the powerful devour the weak. Thus, Farrakhan reminds us: justice and truth are bound together as light is bound to the sun. One cannot shine without the other.

The third stone, the most daring, is truth itself. Truth does not descend into the world quietly; it must be spoken, proclaimed, cried out by voices willing to bear its burden. “There can be no truth, unless someone rises up to tell you the truth.” These words burn like fire, for they call not for passive acceptance but for courage. The truth is often dangerous, resisted, even hated. Yet without those who rise—prophets, reformers, martyrs—the truth remains buried, and with it justice, and with justice, peace.

History itself bears witness. Think of Martin Luther King Jr., who stood in the heart of America and proclaimed the truths of racial injustice. Many wished him silent, many despised his voice, yet he rose to tell the truth. From that truth came the possibility of justice, and from justice, the beginnings of peace. Without his courage to speak, the truth would have remained hidden, and the dream of equality delayed even longer. His life, like Farrakhan’s words, testifies to the eternal chain: truth leads to justice, justice to peace.

We see this also in the story of Nelson Mandela. Imprisoned for decades, he never ceased to affirm the truth of apartheid’s cruelty. His voice, though silenced behind bars, carried through the world. When at last justice was pursued, it was built upon the truths he and others proclaimed, and peace—though fragile—was given a chance to flourish in South Africa. Again, the chain holds: no peace without justice, no justice without truth, no truth without a voice to declare it.

What, then, is the lesson for us? It is not enough to desire peace, nor to wish vaguely for justice. We must be seekers and speakers of truth. Each of us, in our homes, in our communities, in our nations, has the duty to rise when lies darken the land. Speak truth with courage, even when it costs you comfort, even when it isolates you. For truth is the seed, justice the tree, and peace the fruit. Without the seed, there is no harvest.

Thus, dear listener, take these words as a charge: Be the one who rises up to tell the truth. Do not wait for another. Begin in small things—be honest in your dealings, speak against injustice when you see it, defend those who cannot defend themselves. In this way, you join the eternal chain. And if enough voices rise, then truth will be known, justice will be done, and peace—true and lasting—will reign. For this is the law written in the soul of mankind: without truth, no justice; without justice, no peace.