When I tell the truth, it is not for the sake of convincing

The mystic-poet William Blake, whose eyes saw visions in both heaven and earth, once declared: “When I tell the truth, it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but for the sake of defending those that do.” These words, like fire carved into stone, reveal the eternal struggle of the truth-speaker. Blake reminds us that truth is not always a sword to conquer ignorance, but a shield to protect the faithful. For often the stubborn and the blind will not be persuaded, no matter how brightly truth shines. Yet those who already see it, who hold it trembling in their hearts, need the strength of a defender, so they may not be silenced or crushed.

Blake lived in an age of turmoil, when voices of authority sought to bury visionaries beneath the weight of conformity. He knew that the truth often comes not to the powerful, but to the humble, the quiet, the oppressed. And when such souls dare to speak it, they are ridiculed, punished, and driven into exile. Thus, the task of the truth-teller is not always to change the minds of those deaf to it, but to stand beside those who already know, to give them courage, to show them they are not alone. This is the nobility of Blake’s cry: truth as defense, not just persuasion.

History gives us luminous examples. Think of Martin Luther King Jr., who spoke truth during the storms of segregation. His words did not persuade the hardened racists whose hearts were chained by hate. Yet he spoke for the weary, for the oppressed, for the men and women who already knew deep within their souls that they were equal, though the world denied it. To them, his words were a shield. His truth gave them strength to march, to sing, to endure jail cells and violence. He did not speak only to convert the blind, but to defend the sight of those who already knew the light.

Or recall the story of Galileo Galilei. When he spoke of the Earth revolving around the Sun, the mighty Church would not listen. They closed their ears, preferring dogma to discovery. But Galileo’s words gave courage to those young scientists, those seekers of the stars, who already glimpsed the same truth in their own observations. He defended their knowledge, even as he was condemned. His voice ensured that the flame of truth did not flicker out in the darkness of suppression.

Blake’s words remind us that the world is often divided not between the knowing and the ignorant, but between those who defend truth and those who crush it. If you speak truth, do not despair when your enemies remain unmoved. Instead, look to those who already stand in the light, and know that your words strengthen them. You become a companion, a protector, a guardian of truth against the forces that would bury it.

The lesson for future generations is this: speak boldly, not always to persuade, but to protect. Truth is not always recognized at once, nor by all, but it needs defenders in every age. Do not remain silent because the closed-minded will not listen. Remember instead that the open-hearted are listening, trembling, hoping for confirmation. Your words may be the fortress that keeps their truth alive.

Practical wisdom must follow. When you speak, do not measure your success by how many enemies you silence. Measure it by how many friends of truth you strengthen. Seek out those who already carry truth in their hearts and remind them that they are not alone. Stand beside them, speak with them, and defend them when the storms rise. In this way, you will not only honor truth, but also preserve it for generations yet unborn.

Thus, hold Blake’s wisdom in your heart: truth is both a sword and a shield. Sometimes it strikes, but often it protects. Speak it not only to convince the deaf, but to defend the faithful. For in defending truth, you become its guardian, and in being its guardian, you become immortal in the memory of mankind.