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Ladies and gentlemen of Panem and beyond,
I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen. I am sorry that I have been crudely seditious, that I have dragged others down with me. That I have appeared bitter, or hateful, or merely senile. I am sorry, from the bottom of my heart, and I hope that you will forgive me, and come to understand why I have been that way.
Let me tell you a tale of a man I knew in my youth. This gentleman rose to prominence, a gifted politician who wished the best for his people, under whose rule many became wealthy and prosperous. He called this rule Fascism, and set it forth as such: that some people, being the best of people, ought to have the best of things. Those people loved him, and they loved his rule, and they hated those that spoke against it, those who felt foolishly that to be subjugated and beaten and threatened and killed for the good of the society was not, perhaps, fair. The Fascists saw those people, yes, but most of them paid little mind to it, finding it easier to keep their heads down, wishing to remain safe and prosperous.
But in the end, that gentleman I spoke of overreached himself. Fascism overreached itself. And it crumbled. It crumbled as Rome did, as Russia did, as do all regimes built on fear and hate and the Might of their rulers. As Panem will.
That is not a threat. I would not give my life for a threat. But I will give my life and my freedom for this warning - which I have written copies of, knowing I will not be allowed to finish - and all I ask in return, Panem, is that you open your ears, open your eyes, open your minds, and think. I do not sponsor the rebellion, and all its violence and all the suffering it promises. But nor can I blame those who find themselves driven to such extremes, and to know why I do not, you must think, Panem. Every one of you will be asked to choose a side. So choose it wisely, and before you choose, think.
For all of us, however we may bite down on it, have that capacity, and that human instinct of curiosity. It is a friend, and always has been; it is through curiosity that Man has risen above the animals; it is curiosity that gives us science and art and even fashion; it is curiosity which makes us worthy of what we obtain, which we obtain through one question, and that question is WHY?
Give yourself permission, I beg you, to ask that question, and go on asking it. Why? Why am I rich, and that man poor? Why have I lost friends to the Games, and not another? Why am I the subject, and they the rulers? Why do I not say this, think this, wear that, do that? Why should I believe what I am told? Why? Why? Always that question that spurs us on to greater things: Why?
It is such a question that led me to write this speech, and to give it, and to hope that my death will spur such questions in others. My question, the question for whose answer I will give up life and liberty, is a small and simple one: Why was Tony Stark's death shown to all of us inside the Tribute Centre, and none of those outside?
And the answer, the unavoidable and bitter answer, is as simple as the question: Because they fear its impact. They fear what his death would mean to you, the people of Panem, the people of the world. They fear the questions it would raise, of the great truth that no empire based in fear and violence has solid foundations. Rebellion is coming, Panem. I do not say this as a threat or as a possibility; I say this with the great certainty of my age, an age which has seen rebellions and civilisations come and go, and which has had centuries to know the human condition. Rebellion is coming. The pillars on which this nation is built begin to crack and groan. The people upon whose backs you stand have held you up steadfastly for many years, but they cannot hold you up forever.
A time is coming, my friends, when Panem will fall, and something new will take its place. It pains me to know it. Revolutions are rarely bloodless, and both sides, when the time comes, will suffer beyond measure. But that time is coming, Panem. It is almost upon us, and your leaders and great heads of state know it. No matter how they try to hold back the tide, the time is coming.
All I ask of you, of every one of you who reads this or hears it or has it whispered to them from the shadows, all I ask is that when the time comes and you must choose a side, you do not let it be chosen from you. Do not let the choice be made by someone else. Do not let yourselves be carried along on the whims of those who can shout the loudest, and have yourself be looked back on as the last bastions of an old world not worth keeping. If you are wrong, or if you are right, let it be your choice, born out of your concerns and your beliefs and your strength of conviction.
If not, then you may as well give yourselves up now to be Avoxed, for you are already voiceless. You are already slaves, for as long as you will not make use of your freedoms.
The time is coming when you will be asked to risk your lives. Take what time you have, and please, take all my love and my life's work forwards with you. Take my strength, slight as it might be, and my conviction, and my hope for a new dawn. Take it, and be sure that if you should die, you are dying for the world you wish to see born.
Thank you for your courage in reading, and please accept my apology, for wisdom and truth are heavy burdens to bear.
Merlyn
I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen. I am sorry that I have been crudely seditious, that I have dragged others down with me. That I have appeared bitter, or hateful, or merely senile. I am sorry, from the bottom of my heart, and I hope that you will forgive me, and come to understand why I have been that way.
Let me tell you a tale of a man I knew in my youth. This gentleman rose to prominence, a gifted politician who wished the best for his people, under whose rule many became wealthy and prosperous. He called this rule Fascism, and set it forth as such: that some people, being the best of people, ought to have the best of things. Those people loved him, and they loved his rule, and they hated those that spoke against it, those who felt foolishly that to be subjugated and beaten and threatened and killed for the good of the society was not, perhaps, fair. The Fascists saw those people, yes, but most of them paid little mind to it, finding it easier to keep their heads down, wishing to remain safe and prosperous.
But in the end, that gentleman I spoke of overreached himself. Fascism overreached itself. And it crumbled. It crumbled as Rome did, as Russia did, as do all regimes built on fear and hate and the Might of their rulers. As Panem will.
That is not a threat. I would not give my life for a threat. But I will give my life and my freedom for this warning - which I have written copies of, knowing I will not be allowed to finish - and all I ask in return, Panem, is that you open your ears, open your eyes, open your minds, and think. I do not sponsor the rebellion, and all its violence and all the suffering it promises. But nor can I blame those who find themselves driven to such extremes, and to know why I do not, you must think, Panem. Every one of you will be asked to choose a side. So choose it wisely, and before you choose, think.
For all of us, however we may bite down on it, have that capacity, and that human instinct of curiosity. It is a friend, and always has been; it is through curiosity that Man has risen above the animals; it is curiosity that gives us science and art and even fashion; it is curiosity which makes us worthy of what we obtain, which we obtain through one question, and that question is WHY?
Give yourself permission, I beg you, to ask that question, and go on asking it. Why? Why am I rich, and that man poor? Why have I lost friends to the Games, and not another? Why am I the subject, and they the rulers? Why do I not say this, think this, wear that, do that? Why should I believe what I am told? Why? Why? Always that question that spurs us on to greater things: Why?
It is such a question that led me to write this speech, and to give it, and to hope that my death will spur such questions in others. My question, the question for whose answer I will give up life and liberty, is a small and simple one: Why was Tony Stark's death shown to all of us inside the Tribute Centre, and none of those outside?
And the answer, the unavoidable and bitter answer, is as simple as the question: Because they fear its impact. They fear what his death would mean to you, the people of Panem, the people of the world. They fear the questions it would raise, of the great truth that no empire based in fear and violence has solid foundations. Rebellion is coming, Panem. I do not say this as a threat or as a possibility; I say this with the great certainty of my age, an age which has seen rebellions and civilisations come and go, and which has had centuries to know the human condition. Rebellion is coming. The pillars on which this nation is built begin to crack and groan. The people upon whose backs you stand have held you up steadfastly for many years, but they cannot hold you up forever.
A time is coming, my friends, when Panem will fall, and something new will take its place. It pains me to know it. Revolutions are rarely bloodless, and both sides, when the time comes, will suffer beyond measure. But that time is coming, Panem. It is almost upon us, and your leaders and great heads of state know it. No matter how they try to hold back the tide, the time is coming.
All I ask of you, of every one of you who reads this or hears it or has it whispered to them from the shadows, all I ask is that when the time comes and you must choose a side, you do not let it be chosen from you. Do not let the choice be made by someone else. Do not let yourselves be carried along on the whims of those who can shout the loudest, and have yourself be looked back on as the last bastions of an old world not worth keeping. If you are wrong, or if you are right, let it be your choice, born out of your concerns and your beliefs and your strength of conviction.
If not, then you may as well give yourselves up now to be Avoxed, for you are already voiceless. You are already slaves, for as long as you will not make use of your freedoms.
The time is coming when you will be asked to risk your lives. Take what time you have, and please, take all my love and my life's work forwards with you. Take my strength, slight as it might be, and my conviction, and my hope for a new dawn. Take it, and be sure that if you should die, you are dying for the world you wish to see born.
Thank you for your courage in reading, and please accept my apology, for wisdom and truth are heavy burdens to bear.
Merlyn
