Usually, terrible things that are done with the excuse that

Hear, O seeker of truth, the solemn warning of Russell Baker: “Usually, terrible things that are done with the excuse that progress requires them are not really progress at all, but just terrible things.” This is no idle remark, but a judgment carved from the record of human history. For men have often clothed cruelty in the garments of progress, declaring that suffering is the price of advancement. Yet Baker unmasks the deceit, reminding us that evil remains evil, even when it hides behind the shining word progress.

What is progress but the promise of moving forward, of improving the condition of mankind? But when this noble word is twisted to justify oppression, war, or exploitation, it ceases to be progress and becomes corruption. Many times, rulers have declared, “We destroy today so that tomorrow may be brighter.” Yet tomorrow never comes, and what remains is only the ash of the terrible things they inflicted. Baker teaches us to be vigilant, to discern whether the sacrifices demanded are truly for the good of all, or merely the hunger of power disguised as vision.

Consider the age of the Industrial Revolution. Factories rose, machines roared, and wealth increased. Leaders proclaimed it as glorious progress. Yet in the shadows, children toiled fourteen hours a day, their hands mangled, their bodies stunted. Families lived in filth, poisoned by smoke and soot. Was this progress? No—it was suffering baptized under the name of advancement. Only when reforms came, only when justice tempered innovation, did true progress emerge. Until then, it was as Baker said: not progress at all, but just terrible things.

Think too of the wars of conquest that scarred the earth. Empires declared they were bringing civilization, enlightenment, or order. They burned villages, enslaved peoples, and plundered lands—all in the name of humanity’s forward march. The colonizers claimed they carried progress, but what they carried was chains. The wealth of the few was bought with the misery of the many. The lands they left bore scars that endure even now. This, too, is the truth of Baker’s words: progress cannot be built upon the suffering of the innocent, for such things are only cruelty given new names.

And yet, O listener, let us not despair, but learn. True progress is not measured by machines or empires, but by compassion, justice, and the uplift of all. When women won the right to vote, when slavery was abolished, when education was extended to every child—these were not terrible things, but triumphs. They cost struggle, yes, but their fruit was dignity, not despair. They prove that progress which requires the sacrifice of humanity is no progress at all, but progress that restores humanity is the only kind worth pursuing.

The lesson, then, is clear: weigh every claim of progress with care. Ask: who benefits, and who suffers? Does this advancement lift the many, or does it crush them for the sake of the few? When a leader declares that cruelty is necessary for progress, be wary. History teaches us that this path leads not to light but to ruin.

So I say to you, O child of tomorrow: let your progress be tempered with mercy. Build not towers of wealth upon the backs of the broken, nor justify cruelty as the cost of the future. True greatness does not demand the sacrifice of the weak but the inclusion of all in the journey forward. Remember Russell Baker’s wisdom, and let it guide your steps: progress without humanity is no progress at all—it is only a terrible thing in disguise.