It's all about speaking out the truth, even when that's unpopular with the crowds. People tell all kinds of lies, or say nothing at all, in order to save their own necks. Some just do it to fit in or 'not to bring everyone down', justifying it as something good and noble. No matter which innocent party gets placed in harm's way.
The scale doesn't matter. Joining in or ignoring the bullying in the playground is just as bad as perjury in the courtroom. Silence means approval. Bleating the same lines as everyone else just makes you sheeplike.
Nobody said that The Truth Against the World was easy. Being the lone voice turns the spotlight onto you, but that also makes you the sole light in the darkness. It's a dangerous place, if the crowd turns into a mob. Or you could be the one to turn the crowd. Sometimes it only takes one person to articulate the fact that the Emperor wears no clothes. They were all thinking it anyway.
When you speak up, you give others permission to speak up too; or at least you set a precedent of freedom of speech.
When I first encountered Y Gwir Yn Erbyn Y Byd, I was told that it was the battle-cry of everyone from Boudicca through King Arthur to Owain Glyndŵr himself. It wasn't. It's uniquely Celtic, and as Welsh as bards and song, but it's not that old. It was probably first spoken by Iolo Morganwg in 1792. But then he WAS a bard and who better to say the words.
It's become the motto of the Gorsedd. The Bardic Chair pictured was from a meeting of the Eisteddfod in Colwyn Bay. Iolo Morganwg set his own precedent at the first Gorsedd in 1792, when he laid out his vision for peace. As the people met, he took out his sword and laid it on the Logan Stone. Then he ritually and visibly sheathed it again.
"Y gwir yn erbyn y byd?" He asked, then added a further question, "a oes heddwch?" And is there peace?
Speak your mind, there will be peace. There will be no violence here, if everyone just told it as truly as they found it; and heroes were found whenever and wherever the bullies attacked the weak. Are words really that powerful? Remember these were Welsh bards, so they certainly thought so. The pen is always mightier than the sword. History is written by the winners, and that is the story that is remembered. The songs sung cement the reputation.
"Calon wrth galon," came the response to Iolo's question. Heart to heart; and surely on Valentine's Day, as it is at the time of writing, I need not explain that. The person sitting on the Bardic Chair asks again, "A oes heddwch?" And is there peace?
Heddwch needs an extra note. It's not just peace in an abstract sense. The 'wch' ending makes it a verb, something to do. More properly rendered then, it's The Truth Against the World, and will YOU bring peace? Your heart with their heart, all that love, and will YOU bring peace?
There's one final exchange at the Gorsedd. "Gwaedd uwch Adwaedd, a oes heddwch?" Shout above the shouting, and is there peace? Even if the whole world seeks to drown out your voice, will you go on talking? Can you be silenced, when peace is on the line? What will it take to make you bow your head, touch your forelock and repeat the words that you're given to repeat?
Or like the Welsh bards, will YOU bring peace? For me, there's no question. Y Gwir Yn Erbyn Y Byd.