The Earthquake

As we enter, along with the glorious people’s revolution, its second decade in its first year, it is necessary to reaffirm a set of constants and self-evident truths whose presence created the fertile ground that received the seeds of the revolution, nurturing them with everything they needed until they sprouted and branched, grew and flourished. From the seed emerged a good tree, firmly rooted, with lofty branches reaching the sky, making it impossible for its internal and external enemies to destroy it; for it is deeply rooted, strong and solid in its foundations and branches, capable of giving and bearing fruit.

Indeed, there may sometimes be delays in fruiting, and occasionally the fruit may appear, but the time to harvest that fruit can stretch, causing a season or two—or perhaps three or four—to pass without reaping anything. In such moments, despair creeps into the hearts of those waiting, restlessness begins to show among the free, and the eyes brimming with pain, groaning, complaints, and discontent multiply. Eulogies for the sought-after goals rise, and everyone begins preparing the funeral rites for its present, having realized that its envisioned future has been usurped, and that the murderers of dreams and hopes have conspired to strip it of every possibility of survival as a human being—one endowed with consciousness and will, capable of maintaining its nature as a chosen, willing agent, able to shape its essence to achieve the perfection that reflects its greatness as a vicegerent on Earth.

It is at this point that those claiming affiliation with the revolution emerge to replace the pure revolutionary selves—or, more accurately, the good fruit of the revolution is removed, and the conditions necessary for its fruiting are manipulated. Every rotten fruit of the revolution is presented as if it represents all that has been produced and the essence of what revolutionary blood and thought have achieved. Consequently, the land that witnessed great ideas, and on whose soil the blood of sacrifice and dedication wove tales of freedom, sovereignty, independence, justice, equality, development, construction, and change, becomes nothing more than a stage for futile tears and laughter filled with disappointment, regret, and helplessness. The free come to see that there is nothing more detested by their revolution than themselves, that there is no place on their land where they are not expelled and denied.

Meanwhile, the revolution opens its arms to opportunists and power-seekers, bends its back to climbers, smiles and cheers for pretenders, presenting the fruit counted among its crops as if it represents the pinnacle of its revolutionary perfection, without paying the slightest attention to the corruption that has befallen it, ignoring the cries of its masses calling out: “Get rid of these despicable faces, whose prolonged tenure in power has led them to corruption and threatens to ruin many of your good fruits.”

At this point, the arrogant emerge, the false unite, the corrupt conspire, and the ignorant, criminals, greedy, and thieves all come together to stand against the pure, loyal, honest, consciously acting, knowledgeable, rightful critics, and true representatives of the revolution.

Yes, everything becomes contrary to its essence, and every right is mixed with some falsehood. Yet, it is impossible for the revolution to perish; its ink is blood, its martyrs are its finest, and its broadest support and greatest reservoir are the poor and destitute. It will not be lost, seized, exploited, killed, or stolen from us.

This is what we mourn, what we are confident will come to pass, and what will indeed be realized, even if the wait is long, even if Abu Sufyan joins the post-conquest army, and Ibn Awf becomes the great merchant of religion and cause.

The eleventh anniversary of our revolution clearly declares: we are entering a new decade of the revolution, and it will be nothing less than the Decade of the Earthquake.