We need to increase education budgets.

"We need to increase education budgets." Thus spoke Malala Yousafzai, the young voice of a generation, who rose from the valleys of Pakistan where silence and fear once sought to bind women in ignorance. Her words may appear simple, a call for more gold and coin to be given to schools, yet beneath them beats the eternal heartbeat of civilization itself. For to invest in education is to invest in the soul of humanity, and to neglect it is to wound the future. Her cry is no cry for luxury, but for life itself—for without learning, the spirit withers, and without schools, nations stumble into darkness.

From the dawn of empires, wise rulers have known that the true strength of a people does not lie only in their armies, nor their towers of stone, nor their wealth of trade, but in the minds of their sons and daughters. Consider Athens, where democracy was born not merely from swords, but from the teaching of philosophers. Consider China, where dynasties were shaped by scholars who studied and mastered the wisdom of Confucius. In every age, it has been seen: a kingdom that starves its schools soon starves its own destiny. Malala’s voice, like an echo of these ancients, reminds us that to increase education budgets is not an act of charity, but an act of survival.

Look also to her own life, a tale carved in courage. As a child, she stood against those who decreed that girls must remain unlearned, that half the sky should be denied its light. For daring to attend school, she was struck down by the weapons of hatred. Yet from her suffering she rose stronger, declaring to the world that a single book, a single pen, a single teacher can change the course of history. And her plea to the nations—that budgets be turned toward the nurturing of minds—reminds us that words alone are not enough; the soil of learning must be watered with real resources, with commitment, with sacrifice.

History too shows the perils of neglect. In lands where rulers hoarded treasure for palaces and wars, leaving schools in ruin, ignorance spread like a plague, bringing division, poverty, and despair. Yet in times when rulers opened the treasury for knowledge—when libraries were built, when teachers were honored, when children of every class were welcomed to learn—nations flourished. The golden age of Baghdad, where scholars translated the wisdom of the Greeks; the universities of Europe, where minds were sharpened for centuries—all these rose because wealth was given not only to armies, but to classrooms.

The words of Malala strike deeper still, for they are not only about governments and their coffers, but about our own choices. What do we value? Do we give more to weapons than to wisdom, more to fleeting pleasures than to the eternal shaping of minds? Each generation must answer this question. If we neglect our children, if we starve the teachers, if we abandon the schools, we betray not only the present but also the unborn who shall inherit the earth.

The lesson is clear: to raise up the young is to secure the future. Each of us, though we may not hold the purse of the state, can play a part. We can give our time, our voices, our labor, our offerings to strengthen the cause of education. Support a library, mentor a child, speak for policies that uplift schools rather than abandon them. Do not look only to rulers; for every citizen is also a builder of the future.

Malala’s words are both a command and a prophecy. If we heed them, if we truly increase education budgets in heart, in spirit, and in treasure, we will see a harvest of peace, innovation, and dignity. If we ignore them, we doom ourselves to repeat the tragedies of ignorance. The ancients remind us, and Malala cries again with their voice: invest in the mind, and you invest in eternity.

So, children of tomorrow, take this lesson into your souls. Defend the schools, uplift the teachers, value the learner. Demand of your leaders that they honor this sacred duty. For the coin spent on education is not spent, but planted—and from it shall grow forests of wisdom, strong enough to shelter generations yet unborn.