Humanitarian Workers Quotes

the humanitarian workers [in refugee camps in Goma} were treated rather like the service staff at a seedy mafia-occupied hotel: they were there to provide-food, medicine, housewares, an aura of respectability

It bothered them [humanitarian aide workers] that the camp leaders might be war criminals, not refugees in any conventional sense of the word, but fugitives.

Even the most radical white abolitionists, basing their opposition to slavery on moral and humanitarian grounds failed to understand that the rapidly developing capitalism from the North was also an oppressive system. They viewed slavery as a detestable and inhuman institution, an archaic transgression of justice. But they did not recognize that the white worker in the North, his or her status as "free" laborer notwithstanding, was no different from the enslaved "worker" in the South: both were victims of economic exploitation.

On World Humanitarian Day 2014, thanks to ALL aid workers who carry or have carried out lifesaving work. Salute to our champions

Every generation needs caretakers - and the caretaker of your generation is you.

According to the Vietnam Women’s Memorial Foundation statement, approximately 10,000 American military women were stationed in Vietnam during the war. Most were nurses in the Army, Air Force, and Navy, but women also served as physicians and medical personnel, and in air traffic control and military intelligence. Civilian women also served in Vietnam as news correspondents and workers for the Red Cross, Donut Dollies, the USO, Special Services, the American Friends Service Committee, Catholic Relief Services, and other humanitarian organizations.

Many of the great humanitarian and environmental campaigns of our time have been to make the unknown real, the invisible visible, to bring the faraway near, so that the suffering of sweatshop workers, torture victims, beaten children, even the destruction of other species and remote places, impinges on the imagination and perhaps prompts you to act.

Messiahs don't drop from the sky, As mortal suffering jumps the fence. A messiah is just a mortal, Minus all the indifference.

If you can starve to death while sharing your bread with others, instead of appeasing your own hunger while others starve to death, that's the highest miracle of all.

World, my valentine.

We don't know the sun by how bright it shines, we know it by how bright it makes the world shine. If you want to shine, be the light in someone's life.

Choose yourself by yourself, be the chosen by choice.

All meditate on symbols, I meditate on people.

The idea of Appalachia is well understood; the real place, less so. It is a borderland, not truly of the South or the North, and West Virginia is the only state entirely within its bounds. Because of its enormous natural resources and their subsequent extraction, which has largely profited corporations based elsewhere, the relationship between the people of West Virginia and the broader United States of America is often compared to that between a colonized people and their colonizers. The programs of Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty that funneled national dollars and aid workers to central Appalachia, though founded on humanitarian ideas, also furthered this troubled interdependency.

No judgment, no mockery, no grudge, no assumption - just fall. Fall head over heels for the world, like you did for your first love. Remember the loss of appetite, remember the sleeplessness, remember the constant desire to see them - once you feel that kind of intense attachment to the world, that day the world will have a true lover - that day the society will have a high voltage human.

Qatar & The West (The Sonnet) All of a sudden the entire west is peeved at Qatar, Because only the west has exclusive rights to exposure. All of a sudden we care about the migrant workers, The Afghans, Palestinians and Kashmiris no longer matter. Human rights issue here is, we don't care about human rights, We only care about filling the air with hypocrisy and mania. Our poster boy just dumped half his new workforce as garbage, We buy Oscar, ditch Batgirl, and we diss Qatar for buying FIFA! We are just peeved that the Arabs are showing off for a change, Sure it's unacceptable, since showing off is a western tradition. Yes, it's true that the Middle East reeks with human rights issues, But it is also teeming with passion beyond western comprehension. If you really care about human rights stick to a cause for more than a fortnight. Otherwise keep your trap shut, lest you open and be proved a privileged white.

Hoover wanted the new investigation to be a showcase for his bureau, which he had continued to restructure. To counter the sordid image created by Burns and the old school of venal detectives, Hoover adopted the approach of Progressive thinkers who advocated for ruthlessly efficient systems of management. These systems were modeled on the theories of Frederick Winslow Taylor, an industrial engineer, who argued that companies should be run “scientifically,” with each worker’s task minutely analyzed and quantified. Applying these methods to government, Progressives sought to end the tradition of crooked party bosses packing government agencies, including law enforcement, with patrons and hacks. Instead, a new class of technocratic civil servants would manage burgeoning bureaucracies, in the manner of Herbert Hoover—“ the Great Engineer”—who had become a hero for administering humanitarian relief efforts so expeditiously during World War I. As the historian Richard Gid Powers has noted, J. Edgar Hoover found in Progressivism an approach that reflected his own obsession with organization and social control. What’s more, here was a way for Hoover, a deskbound functionary, to cast himself as a dashing figure—a crusader for the modern scientific age. The fact that he didn’t fire a gun only burnished his image. Reporters noted that the “days of ‘old sleuth’ are over” and that Hoover had “scrapped the old ‘gum shoe, dark lantern and false moustache’ traditions of the Bureau of Investigation and substituted business methods of procedure.” One article said, “He plays golf. Whoever could picture Old Sleuth doing that?

The Soviets could have become a mortal danger to us, if they had succeeded in undermining the military spirit of our soldiers with the slogan of the German Communist Party: "No more War!" For at the same time as they were trying by Communist Party terrorism, by strikes, by their press, and by every other means at their disposal to ensure the triumph of pacifism in our country, the Russians were building up an enormous army. Disregarding the namby-pamby utterances about humanitarianism which they spread so assiduously in Germany, in their own country they drove their workers to an astonishing degree, and the Soviet worker was taught by means of the Stakhanov system to work both harder and longer than his counterpart in either Germany or the capitalist States. The more we see of conditions in Russia, the more thankful we must be that we struck in time. In another ten years there would have sprung up in Russia a mass of industrial centres, inaccessible to attack, which would have produced armaments on an inexhaustible scale, while the rest of Europe would have degenerated into a defenceless plaything of Soviet policy. It is very stupid to sneer at the Stakhanov system. The arms and equipment of the Russian armies are the best proof of its efficiency in the handling of industrial man power. Stalin, too, must command our unconditional respect. In his own way he is a hell of a fellow ! He knows his models, Genghiz Khan and the others, very well, and the scope of his industrial planning is exceeded only by our own Four Year Plan. And there is no doubt that he is quite determined that there shall be in Russia no unemployment such as one finds in such capitalist States as the United States of America...

Humanitarian Industrialization Fourth industrial revolution my eye! We haven't yet recovered from the disparities produced by the first, second and third industrial revolutions. Morons keep peddling cold and pompous dreams devoid of humanity, and morons keep consuming them like good little backboneless vermin. Grow a backbone already! We always look at the glorious aspects of industrialization and overlook all those countless lives that are ruined by it. But it's okay! As long as we are not struck by a catastrophe ourselves, our sleep of moronity never breaks - so long as our comfort is unchallenged, and enhanced rather, it's okay if millions keep falling through the cracks. So long as you can afford a smartphone that runs smooth like butter, it doesn't matter if it is produced by modern day slave labors who can't even afford the basic essentials of living. With all the revenue the tech companies earn by charging you a thousand dollar for a hundred dollar smartphone, they can't even pay decent wages to the people working their butt off to manufacture their assets - because apparently, it is more important for the people at the top to afford private jets and trips to space, than the factory workers to afford healthcare, housing and a couple of square meals a day. And this you call industrialization - well done - you just figured out the secret to glory without being bothered by something so boring as basic humanity. I say to you here and now, listen well - stop abusing revolutionary scientific discoveries in the making of a cold, mechanistic, disparity infested world - use science and technology to wipe out the disparities, not cause them. Break free from your modern savagery of inhuman industrialization, and focus your mind on humanitarian industrialization.

humanitarian grounds, failed to understand that the rapidly developing capitalism of the North was also an oppressive system. They viewed slavery as a detestable and inhuman institution, an archaic transgression of justice. But they did not recognize that the white worker in the North, his or her status as “free” laborer notwithstanding, was no different from the enslaved “worker” in the South: both were victims of economic exploitation. As militant as William Lloyd Garrison is supposed to have been, he was vehemently against wage laborers’ right to organize. The inaugural issue of the Liberator included an article denouncing the efforts of Boston workers to form a political party: An attempt has been made—it is still in the making—we regret to say—to inflame the minds of our working classes against the more opulent, and to persuade men that they are condemned and oppressed by a wealthy aristocracy … It is in the highest degree criminal, therefore, to exasperate our mechanics to deeds of violence or to array them under a party banner.58 As a rule, white abolitionists either defended the industrial capitalists or expressed no conscious class loyalty at all. This unquestioning acceptance of the capitalist economic system was evident in the program of the women’s rights movement as well. If most abolitionists viewed slavery as a nasty blemish which needed to be eliminated, most women’s righters viewed male supremacy in a similar manner—as an immoral flaw in their otherwise acceptable society. The leaders of the women’s rights movement did not suspect that the enslavement of Black people in the South, the economic exploitation of Northern workers and the social oppression of women might be systematically related. Within the early women’s movement, little was said about white working people—not even about white women workers. Though many of the women were supporters of the abolitionist campaign, they failed to integrate their anti-slavery consciousness into their analysis of women’s oppression.

The tactical situation seems simple enough. Thanks to Marx’s prophecy, the Communists knew for certain that misery must soon increase. They also knew that the party could not win the confidence of the workers without fighting for them, and with them, for an improvement of their lot. These two fundamental assumptions clearly determined the principles of their general tactics. Make the workers demand their share, back them up in every particular episode in their unceasing fight for bread and shelter. Fight with them tenaciously for the fulfilment of their practical demands, whether economic or political. Thus you will win their confidence. At the same time, the workers will learn that it is impossible for them to better their lot by these petty fights, and that nothing short of a wholesale revolution can bring about an improvement. For all these petty fights are bound to be unsuccessful; we know from Marx that the capitalists simply cannot continue to compromise and that, ultimately, misery must increase. Accordingly, the only result—but a valuable one—of the workers’ daily fight against their oppressors is an increase in their class consciousness; it is that feeling of unity which can be won only in battle, together with a desperate knowledge that only revolution can help them in their misery. When this stage is reached, then the hour has struck for the final show-down. This is the theory and the Communists acted accordingly. At first they support the workers in their fight to improve their lot. But, contrary to all expectations and prophecies, the fight is successful. The demands are granted. Obviously, the reason is that they had been too modest. Therefore one must demand more. But the demands are granted again44. And as misery decreases, the workers become less embittered, more ready to bargain for wages than to plot for revolution. Now the Communists find that their policy must be reversed. Something must be done to bring the law of increasing misery into operation. For instance, colonial unrest must be stirred up (even where there is no chance of a successful revolution), and with the general purpose of counteracting the bourgeoisification of the workers, a policy fomenting catastrophes of all sorts must be adopted. But this new policy destroys the confidence of the workers. The Communists lose their members, with the exception of those who are inexperienced in real political fights. They lose exactly those whom they describe as the ‘vanguard of the working class’; their tacitly implied principle: ‘The worse things are, the better they are, since misery must precipitate revolution’, makes the workers suspicious—the better the application of this principle, the worse are the suspicions entertained by the workers. For they are realists; to obtain their confidence, one must work to improve their lot. Thus the policy must be reversed again: one is forced to fight for the immediate betterment of the workers’ lot and to hope at the same time for the opposite. With this, the ‘inner contradictions’ of the theory produce the last stage of confusion. It is the stage when it is hard to know who is the traitor, since treachery may be faithfulness and faithfulness treachery. It is the stage when those who followed the party not simply because it appeared to them (rightly, I am afraid) as the only vigorous movement with humanitarian ends, but especially because it was a movement based on a scientific theory, must either leave it, or sacrifice their intellectual integrity; for they must now learn to believe blindly in some authority. Ultimately, they must become mystics—hostile to reasonable argument. It seems that it is not only capitalism which is labouring under inner contradictions that threaten to bring about its downfall …

Reading Bernard Fall began my journey towards an understanding of what America could do in the world and what it could not do, based not on some lofty ideal of history, but on knowledge and empathy of the human terrain itself, about places and people as they actually were. “It is all about collecting information and insights from the field, so that we don’t operate with one eye closed. It is about searching out that vital insight about a place that any journalist or relief worker has, but which wonks and highbrow policymakers often don’t.

To serve is to be human.

Only love can bring full freedom, all else brings half freedom. What is half freedom you ask? When in the name of freedom you imprison yourself to one side or sect, everything outside that sect seems evil. For example, fundamentalists choose the side of blind faith, and every act of reason seems like blasphemy - just like cold, sharp-tongue intellectuals choose the side of rationality even at the expense of humanity, and everything illogical seems outdated - or wait, I got a better one - so-called social activists often get so attached to their self-imposed identity of victimhood, that every person with a political, corporate, legal or bureaucratic background seems to appear as devil incarnate. This, my friend, is what I call "half freedom", which by the way, is far worse than the lack of freedom. And even though it manifests as an act of willful choice, when you get down to it, it's just plain old rigidity. And if we want to build a truly just, inclusive and progressive society, this hypocritical half-freedom won't do - what's needed is whole freedom - a kind of freedom that liberates the mind of all superstition as well as ignorant suspiciousness. It's time we realize, yelling about justice without using common sense is just as useless as keeping quiet. What this means is that, we gotta come together regardless of our background - the teacher, the scientist, the student, the copper, the politician, the civil servant, the entrepreneur, the economist, the janitor, the construction worker - every single person from every single walk of life must come forward surpassing all suspicious conspiracy, and contribute the best of their capacity in the making of a real civilized world.

The more you give life, The more you'll have life.

I am only the first fire, the best are yet to come!

We’ve organized a setup where we—me, Orren and a few friends—are going to control every industrial property south of the border.” “Whose property?” “Why . . . the people’s. This is not an old-fashioned grab for private profit. It’s a deal with a mission—a worthy, public-spirited mission—to manage the nationalized properties of the various People’s States of South America, to teach their workers our modern techniques of production, to help the underprivileged who’ve never had a chance, to—” He broke off abruptly, though she had merely sat looking at him without shifting her glance. “You know,” he said suddenly, with a cold little chuckle, “if you’re so damn anxious to hide that you came from the slums, you ought to be less indifferent to the philosophy of social welfare. It’s always the poor who lack humanitarian instincts. One has to be born to wealth in order to know the finer feelings of altruism.

We’ve organized a setup where we—me, Orren and a few friends—are going to control every industrial property south of the border.” “Whose property?” “Why . . . the people’s. This is not an old-fashioned grab for private profit. It’s a deal with a mission—a worthy, public-spirited mission—to manage the nationalized properties of the various People’s States of South America, to teach their workers our modern techniques of production, to help the underprivileged who’ve never had a chance, to—” He broke off abruptly, though she had merely sat looking at him without shifting her glance. “You know,” he said suddenly, with a cold little chuckle, “if you’re so damn anxious to hide that you came from the slums, you ought to be less indifferent to the philosophy of social welfare. It’s always the poor who lack humanitarian instincts. One has to be born to wealth in order to know the finer feelings of altruism.” “I’ve never tried to hide that I came from the slums,” she said in the simple, impersonal tone of a factual correction. “And I haven’t any sympathy for that welfare philosophy. I’ve seen enough of them to know what makes the kind of poor who want something for nothing.” He did not answer, and she added suddenly, her voice astonished, but firm, as if in final confirmation of a long-standing doubt, “Jim, you don’t care about it either. You don’t care about any of that welfare hogwash.” “Well, if money is all that you’re interested in,” he snapped, “let me tell you that that deal will bring me a fortune. That’s what you’ve always admired, isn’t it, wealth?

The world cares not about your pain, still can you care for the world's pain? In a paradigm paved by and for psychopaths, can you be the glaringly anomalous love-lane?

Naskar has never sought for recognition, neither should Naskareans. Work my soldiers, work - work for the welfare of this world with the last ounce of valiance in your veins. Only then shall you stand bold and proud, with a smile on your face, as a testament to my life. I don't want to live in my words - I want to live through you - I want you to be the proof that there ever was a human called Naskar. I exist, when you exist - as the absolute epitome of humanness possible - when you don't, I don't. I don't want your allegiance - to me or anybody else! Allegiance is too petty a term to define what I want of you - for I don't want your allegiance - I want your annihilation - your absolute apocalyptic annihilation - for the ascension of humanity! Can you do that? Then what are you waiting for! Burn my books, and go lift the world! Let me live in your blood, not in books.

Forward O Mind, no matter the pangs, never look behind!

The rise of people is rise of the self.

Forward O People, Forward O Mind, no matter the pangs, never look behind!

I chose to take the weight of the world on my shoulders, but you don't necessarily have to. If you can't take the weight of the world on your shoulders, take the weight of your nation - if you can't take the weight of your nation, take the weight of your city - if you can't take the weight of your city, take the weight of your neighborhood. Start small but start somewhere - take responsibility for the issues of your immediate vicinity if not the whole world, and the world will change, slowly but surely.

I got no business with such cowardly insects, who try to hide pettiness with perfectionism. Give me ten messy vessels restless for purpose, I shall give the world 10,000 years of ascension.

The world is my valentine.

There's no social work, only family work.

My first and foremost love is society.

If a chunk of alum can purify a bucket of putrid water, your heart can purify the world with its gentalist power.

World is My Valentine (The Sonnet) My first and foremost love is society, Romance 'n things are second priority. My love seeks not to be loved in return, In fact, my love thrives in cold nonreciprocity. Mine is not to reason why, mine is to love and die, There's no greater love than that of a one-sided lover. The world is to me what Julia was to Saint Valentine, And what the impoverished were to Nicholas Santa. A world anemic in love needs a day to celebrate love, I am a lover eternal, for me every day is valentine's day. The world is my valentine, as such it is under my care, It's my duty to protect it from Claudius' mischievous play. I shall stop breathing before I break this pledge of mine. There's no greater power than the pledge of a lover divine.

Humanitarian fire is unputoutable.

With every breath you take, a tiny particle of water is present in the heart, the female and male characters in the body are within 50 to 85 percent of the water! There is a lot of water with all the elements in this whole vast universe! Men and women who are afraid of disease and death will be involved in regular recitation of mantras as a result of this. There is an opportunity to associate with wise Guru. As a result, religion means work, salvation, health, life, and many paths of life. Wise Guru should keep on doing virtuous, religious deeds. The life of fire is also Shreeom, and the seed of water breath is also Shreeom. The living creatures life is also Shreeom, religious, spiritual, ascetic saint, Pandit, Guru, female and male personality's soul is also Shreeom and Karma Yogis's soul is also Shreeom. Shreeom's dearest love or natures are Mahalakshmi, Pratipriti Vaishnavi Kamala and Bhavani. Those who think that the soul is the killer of the soul and those who think that the soul dies with the body not understand life properly because the soul is immortal and the soul does not kill anyone and the soul is immortal in every Era because the soul is the embodiment of the Lord, teacher of God and his power and the Sun, the Guru, the Divine God. The sweet fragrance of the earth is Shreeom, the happiness, peace, prosperity, joy, success is Shreeom. Shreeom love the most to the social workers, donation givers, knowledgeable Sadhus, Sant, Pandits, helpful ladies and gentlemen, simultaneously positive approach humanitarian and protector of Dharma.:- Shreeom

In work be restless, in love be limitless, in care be oceandeep, in service be selfless.

Ripped jeans and twenty dollar shirt, that's how we'll change the world.

Service is my culture and my nationality.

It ain't time for comfort, it ain't time for leisure, not yet anyways. It's time for work – uncorrupted, unvarnished, untainted humanitarian work.

There is no social work, there is only family work, because unless you see the society as your own family all change is gonna be shortlived.

Work, work, work - in silence - work - in agony - work – in tears - work - don't mind the mockery - don't mind the treachery - don't mind the heartbleed - just keep working. Why you ask? Because someone somewhere has love and light in their life because of your work.

The only people who never die, are those who happily die for others.

Be humble, don't tremble, when the people call, with your life do the gamble.

The art of self-discovery is in self-annihilation.

Honor He Wrote Sonnet 4 Raise your power in silence, Become a dynamite of resilience. Head high and chest emboldened, March on with uncorrupt conscience. Be the heart that loves and lifts, Be the hand that shares might. Feel the talk and talk the feel, Be the mirror of sight beyond sight. Be the first when no one comes, Be the last when all are gone. Be the one who sits not still, Be the rays of a dutiful dawn. You are the order you seek outside. To be human is to put coldness aside.

So many people, including relief workers, talk these days about 'mere' charity, 'mere' humanitarianism. As if coping with a dishonourable world honourably, and a cruel world with kindness, were not honour enough.

Mission over Recognition (The Sonnet) Let me show you what is action without expectation! What is it to do your duty, without regard for recognition! Quite often I lose count of my works, Yet I've never had a fancy book launch. I write in silence, I release in silence, I have no relation to praise and applause. I am the peak of humanitarian literature, All without an ounce of support or award. I am not a writer, I am world reformer, My first concern is an integrated world. Whatever happens next, know that it had nothing to do with the making of a mission. It's easy to bask in the glory of the sun, not so much to fuel solar combustion.

One sacrifice awakens millions, One life resuscitates humanity.

Smiling through martyrdom, I magnetize magnanimity. One sacrifice awakens millions, One life resuscitates humanity.

One sacrifice awakens millions.

My soldiers are my gift to cosmos, archaic narrowness is no match for them. I got martyred in the making of a life, to shine as beacon for generations to come.

Music is my MDMA, Cultures, my cocaine. Languages are my LSD, People are my heaven.

In the United States, the story of DST is rather ridiculous, influenced by that especially American blend of wartime morality and blatant commercial interest. In the surprisingly hilarious book Spring Forward: The Annual Madness of Daylight Saving Time, Michael Downing writes that soon after the United States adopted DST in March 1918, “the lofty humanitarian goals of Daylight Saving—to get working girls safely home before dark, to reunite dads and moms with the kids before shadows fell on the backyard garden, to safeguard the physical and mental health of industrial workers by increasing their daily opportunity for sports and recreation—also resembled an innovative strategy for boosting retail sales.

Be the ray, without delay - You are the hope for all humanity. You know what the word "hope" means - HOPE means Human On Patrol Eternally.

No sewage is ever sanctified without sewage-workers, No society is ever civilized without reformers. No mutation ever occurs without an anomaly, No world is brought to life without love-laborers.

There is no sunrise without sacrifice, There is no unity without inclusion. There is no love without conviction, There is no justice without unsubmission. No sewage is ever sanctified without sewage-workers, No society is ever civilized without reformers. No mutation ever occurs without an anomaly, No world is brought to life without love-laborers.

Rise my lions, roar my lions! Prayers are flooding in - who'll bring reliance!

The only devil I dread is myself - no saint am I, just human in help!

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Even before the first Soviet tanks crossed into Afghanistan in 1979, a movement of Islamists had sprung up nationwide in opposition to the Communist state. They were, at first, city-bound intellectuals, university students and professors with limited countryside appeal. But under unrelenting Soviet brutality they began to forge alliances with rural tribal leaders and clerics. The resulting Islamist insurgents—the mujahedeen—became proxies in a Cold War battle, with the Soviet Union on one side and the United States, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia on the other. As the Soviets propped up the Afghan government, the CIA and other intelligence agencies funneled millions of dollars in aid to the mujahedeen, along with crate after crate of weaponry. In the process, traditional hierarchies came radically undone. When the Communists killed hundreds of tribal leaders and landlords, young men of more humble backgrounds used CIA money and arms to form a new warrior elite in their place. In the West, we would call such men “warlords.” In Afghanistan they are usually labeled “commanders.” Whatever the term, they represented a phenomenon previously unknown in Afghan history. Now, each valley and district had its own mujahedeen commanders, all fighting to free the country from Soviet rule but ultimately subservient to the CIA’s guns and money. The war revolutionized the very core of rural culture. With Afghan schools destroyed, millions of boys were instead educated across the border in Pakistani madrassas, or religious seminaries, where they were fed an extreme, violence-laden version of Islam. Looking to keep the war fueled, Washington—where the prevailing ethos was to bleed the Russians until the last Afghan—financed textbooks for schoolchildren in refugee camps festooned with illustrations of Kalashnikovs, swords, and overturned tanks. One edition declared: Jihad is a kind of war that Muslims fight in the name of God to free Muslims.… If infidels invade, jihad is the obligation of every Muslim. An American text designed to teach children Farsi: Tey [is for] Tofang (rifle); Javed obtains rifles for the mujahedeen Jeem [is for] Jihad; Jihad is an obligation. My mom went to the jihad. The cult of martyrdom, the veneration of jihad, the casting of music and cinema as sinful—once heard only from the pulpits of a few zealots—now became the common vocabulary of resistance nationwide. The US-backed mujahedeen branded those supporting the Communist government, or even simply refusing to pick sides, as “infidels,” and justified the killing of civilians by labeling them apostates. They waged assassination campaigns against professors and civil servants, bombed movie theaters, and kidnapped humanitarian workers. They sabotaged basic infrastructure and even razed schools and clinics. With foreign backing, the Afghan resistance eventually proved too much for the Russians. The last Soviet troops withdrew in 1989, leaving a battered nation, a tottering government that was Communist in name only, and a countryside in the sway of the commanders. For three long years following the withdrawal, the CIA kept the weapons and money flowing to the mujahedeen, while working to block any peace deal between them and the Soviet-funded government. The CIA and Pakistan’s spy agency pushed the rebels to shell Afghan cities still under government control, including a major assault on the eastern city of Jalalabad that flattened whole neighborhoods. As long as Soviet patronage continued though, the government withstood the onslaught. With the collapse of the Soviet Union in late 1991, however, Moscow and Washington agreed to cease all aid to their respective proxies. Within months, the Afghan government crumbled. The question of who would fill the vacuum, who would build a new state, has not been fully resolved to this day.

O my mighty sisters and brothers, forget not that the ideal of humanity is the search of truth. In this pursuit, countless souls have sacrificed themselves in the past. And in this pursuit, countless more shall need to sacrifice themselves.

Sacrifice everything that is yours, to call up the humans in others.

Arise O lion-heart! Awake, O great soldier! Misery has come upon the world. It is wailing for help. It is wailing for redemption. Won’t you do anything, my friend!

Let the people find a shelter in you, and you shall attain an eternal shelter in them.

Messiahs don't drop from the sky, As mortal suffering jumps the fence. A messiah is just a mortal, Minus all the indifference. Peygambers don't jog down from jennet, As people are troubled by malice. A peygamber is just a regular person, Who has conquered their prejudice. Buddhas don't grow in a zen garden, As the world reeks of bigotry. A buddha is just an ordinary being, Minus all the self-centricity.

The helper is the herald, the lifter is the light. In a world with double vision, selflessness is the only sight.

Every generation needs a janitor, Every era needs an exterminator. Every tierra needs a transformer, Every generation needs a generator.

The world seems like a wonderful place, When you don't know what's going on in it. Witnessing the darkness yet choosing to smile, That's what defines the illuminating spirit.

Seclusion Won’t Do (The Sonnet) Each of you must turn into a sufi saint, Each of you must turn into a latin lover. Each of you must turn into a shaolin monk, Each of you must turn into a bengal tiger. It won't do to seclude yourself in a monastery, It won't do to seclude yourself behind a desk. The monk must come down to the streets of life, The scholar must till the soil with their sweat. Service of humanity is the fulfillment of divinity, Service of humanity is the right use of intellect. Occasional seclusion is good, to charge up the mind, But life-long seclusion from society is sheer waste. Enlightenment that doesn't eliminate separation is no enlightenment. Intelligence that doesn't elevate the collective is no intelligence.

The world is coursing through my blood, I can live without myself, but not the world. You can take me away from the society, But how will you take the society away from my blood!

Life and death are civilian affair. A reformer works each day with coffin in pocket. There'll be no life for any of the civilians, If the reformer slips into drunken enjoyment.

Soon my body will perish but my work will continue to create doctors with character and accountability - teachers with character and accountability - politicians with character and accountability - civil servants with character and accountability - scientists with character and accountability - preachers with character and accountability - janitors, bus conductors, waitresses and construction workers with character and accountability - in short, my body will perish but my work will continue to create human beings of character and accountability.

For a soldier of ascension there is no room for self-gratification, beyond the bare necessities of sustenance.

The nineteenth century brought no improvement in the ethics of capitalism. The Industrial Revolution that swept through Europe enriched the bankers and capital-owners, but condemned millions of workers to a life of abject poverty. In the European colonies things were even worse. In 1876, King Leopold II of Belgium set up a nongovernmental humanitarian organisation with the declared aim of exploring Central Africa and fighting the slave trade along the Congo River. It was also charged with improving conditions for the inhabitants of the region by building roads, schools and hospitals. In 1885 the European powers agreed to give this organisation control of 2.3 million square kilometres in the Congo basin. This territory, seventy-five times the size of Belgium, was henceforth known as the Congo Free State. Nobody asked the opinion of the territory’s 20–30 million inhabitants. Within a short time the humanitarian organisation became a business enterprise whose real aim was growth and profit. The schools and hospitals were forgotten, and the Congo basin was instead filled with mines and plantations, run by mostly Belgian officials who ruthlessly exploited the local population. The rubber industry was particularly notorious. Rubber was fast becoming an industrial staple, and rubber export was the Congo’s most important source of income. The African villagers who collected the rubber were required to provide higher and higher quotas. Those who failed to deliver their quota were punished brutally for their ‘laziness’. Their arms were chopped off and occasionally entire villages were massacred. According to the most moderate estimates, between 1885 and 1908 the pursuit of growth and profits cost the lives of 6 million individuals (at least 20 per cent of the Congo’s population). Some estimates reach up to 10 million deaths.4

Humankind, my valentine!

Pick up a broom, not bombs, Wield a mop, not weapons of mass destruction. Sacred minds make sacred society, Peace comes when the very thought of arms causes repulsion.

Pick up a broom, not bombs, Wield a mop, not weapons.

Sacred minds make sacred society.

One act of silent kindness is far greater than reading all the books by Naskar.

Sacrifice is my illumination, Servanthood is my sultanet. People are the reason of my life, I got too much electricity to sit and wait.

If you don't like the world you are born in, build the world you wish you were born in.

Sonnet 1143 Give me some sunshine, Give me some rain! Why the hell am I asking you, When I'm the steward of my own reign! Ship of society is sinking, O Young and Bold, now hail the helm! Come to the rescue of those lost at sea, To hell with the nonsense of shame and fame! My religion is to rescue the fallen, My creed to care for the persecuted. Faith, reason, nation, I heed none, Obliterated in love heart is illuminated. Shedding all fears both ragged and posh, Let's go play in the courtyard of the cosmos!

Be the paradigm-breaking anomaly, That elevates all of humankind. Be the epoch-shattering anchor, That tethers time to light.

On the contrary, reading or listening to many critical academics, returning aid workers, journalists and politicians commenting on humanitarian operations, one might well think that the profession is actually an abomination. Humanitarian action is often portrayed as the inept self-interested work of ignorant neo-colonial devils, rather than as an efficient and effective caring profession.

Chosen by Choice (The Sonnet) Choose yourself by yourself, Be the chosen by choice. Nobody's gonna come to choose you, Without any self-interest. Nobody's gonna pop out of fiction, And choose you to lift the world. The world is your family, You are their self-determined vanguard You are the chooser, you are the choice, You alone are the divine intervention. One who is responsible is also divine, What is indifferent is simply damnation. Choose yourself as the world's defender. There's no greater defender than an unbent lover.

I have never been a good son, I'll never be a good partner, and definitely not a good parent, for I am a martyr - I am a martyr for humanity.

Live to serve, serve to live.

Give me ten beings who burn for the people, and I'll give you a world of the future.

I didn't wait for the world to happen to me. I stood up and happened to the world.

Long enough snobbish retards have ruled the world! Now it is time for selfless nuts to take charge.

The powers of world-building are all encoded in you. Bring those codes to life and write the world anew.

To the wounded stranger I am ointment, but to the inhuman vermin I am volcano.

Sight up - might up - light up! Denounce the shore and sail the sea! Draw electricity from your spinal cord, One brain can make or break society.