Enough is enough. It's such a simple phrase,
isn't it? It is. Just three words. We use it
all the time. I mean, you say it when the neighbor's
dog won't start working at three in the morning.
Right. Or when the printer at work jams for the
tenth time. Exactly. It's usually this release
of personal frustration, a little micro -explosion.
And in English, it's three words. In Spanish,
it's often just two. Basta ya. Basta ya. And
while the feeling is universal, The weight of
those words can change drastically. It depends
on who is saying them, and I think more importantly...
where they're saying them and i feel like we
have all had moments in our lives where we've
just wanted to scream that from the rooftops
but today we are not talking about you know bad
traffic or broken printers we are talking about
a moment where that phrase became a container
for something so much bigger it wasn't just a
complaint it was a roar it was a line in the
sand drawn by thousands of people all at the
same time it absolutely was a line in the sand
and what makes this specific Enough is enough.
So compelling is the context. We're not talking
about being fed up with high taxes or, you know,
a pothole in the road. Those are perfectly valid
civic complaints. Sure. We're talking about a
visceral civic reaction to terrorism, to violence.
We are taking a deep dive into the organization
literally named Bastaya. Right. This was a Spanish
grassroots group. And I think that term grassroots,
it gets thrown around a lot these days, doesn't
it? It really does. It's become a bit of a buzzword.
It has. You see it in marketing and political
campaigns. You see these grassroots movements
that are, you know, actually funded by massive
corporations. But here, looking at the source
material, it really seems to fit the dictionary
definition. They weren't a government agency.
They weren't a political party. They were just
people. Precisely. The sources call them a civic
initiative. And that distinction is going to
be crucial to everything we talk about today.
Because when you look at the records, the organization's
history, their ideals and their eventual dissolution.
You see a story that is really quite rare in
modern politics. You see a story of people stepping
out of their designated lanes to address a crisis
that the traditional structures just weren't
solving fast enough. I'm honestly so eager to
unpack the human story here, because usually
when we talk about political movements, especially
in Europe, it can be very tribal. You have the
left, you have the right. And they don't talk
to each other. They live in different worlds.
They read different newspapers. They go to different
rallies. But this. This seems different. The
source material suggests a crossover that shouldn't,
you know, technically exist. It was very different.
And our mission today is to explore exactly how
that happened. How do you get a group of citizens
who probably disagreed on everything from taxes
to health care to education? Right. People with
totally different ideologies. How do you get
them to unite? What is the glue strong enough
to hold a socialist, conservative and a libertarian
together in the same room marching under the
same banner? And spoiler alert, the glue wasn't
some charismatic leader or a promise of lower
taxes. No. The glue was the defense of the rule
of law and support for the victims of violence.
It was about survival. in a civic sense that
is the absolute core of it we're going to look
at their rise their philosophy which by the way
moved from moral criticism to political criticism
which is a fascinating shift we really need to
dissect absolutely and their eventual end which
i have to say is one of the most interesting
parts of this whole story the way they ended
it's almost counterintuitive to everything we
know about how organizations work but okay we'll
get there let's start at the beginning who exactly
was bastia If I walked into one of their meetings
in, say, the year 2000, what would I see? To
understand Bastia, you first have to understand
what they were not. As we touched on, they were
not a coalition of political parties. It wasn't
like Party A and Party B shook hands, made a
logo, and decided to share a platform for the
next election. So it wasn't some strategic alliance
to get more votes. No, not at all. It was a union
of individuals. And that is such a critical distinction.
When you join a party coalition, you're often
doing it because your party boss told you to
or because it's politically expedient. Right.
This organization was defined as a civic initiative.
The source material is very specific about this.
It welcomes citizens of differing ideologies.
I love that distinction because parties have
baggage, right? If I'm a diehard supporter of
Party X and I see Party Y organizing a protest,
my first instinct is to stay away even if I agree
with the protest's topic. Of course. Because
I don't want to be seen supporting them. Exactly.
Parties have baggage. They have platforms. They
have whips who tell you how to vote. They have
all these historical grievances with other parties.
This organization just bypassed all of that.
They effectively said, leave your party card
at the door. We don't care who you voted for
in the last election. We care about where you
stand on violence and the law. So you could be
a conservative, a liberal, a socialist. As long
as you are willing to play an active part and
you adhere to their three basic principles. It
was an identity based on action and values, not
on political affiliation. OK, before we get to
the principles, we have to talk about what they
were fighting against, because enough is enough
implies there's something you can't take anymore.
There has to be an antagonist in this story.
What was the target? The primary target explicitly
was terrorism. specifically the terrorism of
ETA. Right. And for our listeners who might need
a quick refresher, ETA was a separatist group
operating mainly in the Basque country in Spain.
And this was a time when car bombs, targeted
assassinations, extortion, these were realities
of life in that region. It was a very, very heavy
atmosphere. I mean, fear was a daily companion
for a lot of people, especially public figures,
journalists, or really anyone who spoke out against
the nationalist agenda. Sebastião was first...
foremost a reaction to that physical violence.
It was. But, and this is where it gets more nuanced,
it wasn't just the physical violence. This is
where the civic part comes in, isn't it? It wasn't
just an anti -violence group. They had a political
stance on the law itself. Correct. They positioned
themselves against political maneuvers that they
felt threatened the established legal framework.
Specifically, the records mentioned their opposition
to the proposal for a new statute of autonomy
of the Basque country. And this is the plan that
was released by President Juan Jose Ibarex. That's
the one, the Ibarex plan. Now, I want to be careful
here because we aren't here to debate the merits
of that plan. We're not taking a side on Bastille.
No, and that's an important boundary to draw.
Our role here is to report on why this specific
group, Bastille, opposed it. From their perspective,
their mandate was to defend the Spanish Constitution
and the existing statute of autonomy. They viewed
the Ibarex plan as a challenge to that rule of
law. So for them, opposing that plan wasn't necessarily
about right versus left politics. It was about
rule of law versus outside the rule of law. That's
the key. That's exactly it. They saw the Constitution
not just as some dry legal text, but as the guarantee
of their civil liberties. In their view, if you
start playing fast and loose with the constitutional
framework, especially in the middle of a conflict,
you're destabilizing the very foundation that
protects citizens from violence. So opposing
the plan was, in their eyes, an extension of
opposing the chaos that terrorism thrives in.
That really fits into that theme of stability.
They wanted to protect the ground rules of democracy.
It's like you're playing a soccer game where
one team is trying to hurt the other players
and another group is trying to change the shape
of the field in the middle of the match. That's
a great analogy. And Bastiat was basically saying,
hey, stop hurting people and leave the field
lines where they are. That is a very apt analogy.
Yeah. And if you look at their membership criteria,
it becomes even clearer. They had three basic
principles that every single member had to agree
to. And these weren't, you know, vague, feel
-good statements. They were quite specific. Okay.
Let's break those down. Principle number one.
Defend against terrorism of any sort. Of any
sort. That feels very intentional. It feels like
they're closing a loophole there. It is deeply
intentional. The source material specifies. regardless
of origin or intensity. This is such a crucial
stance for a human rights group. You see, in
conflict zones, it is so common for people to
fall into the trap of my terrorists are freedom
fighters, but your terrorists are criminals.
Right. Or to say, well, state violence is OK,
but insurgent violence is bad or, you know, vice
versa. The whole ends justify the means argument.
Exactly. Bastia took a hard line. Terrorism is
terrorism. Violence used to achieve political
ends is illegitimate, full stop. It doesn't matter
if it comes from the extreme left, the extreme
right, or anywhere else. It doesn't matter if
it's a car bomb or a street beating. That kind
of moral consistency must be hard to maintain
in heated conflicts, but it's so powerful. It
just strips away all the excuses. You can't say,
yeah, but. There is no but. And that brings us
right to the second principle. Support for all
victims. And again, that inclusivity is key.
Victims of terrorism or of political violence.
Why is that distinction important? All victims.
What's the thinking there? Because in a polar
society, victims often get politicized. If our
side gets hit, we mourn them as martyrs. If their
side gets hit, there's silence. Or maybe even
a quiet feeling that they, you know, deserved
it. Basaya was trying to break that. cycle. The
goal was to wrap their arms around anyone who
had suffered, making sure they weren't marginalized
or forgotten, regardless of their personal politics.
It's humanizing the cost of the conflict. It's
saying this person isn't a symbol. They are a
human being who was hurt. And that leads directly
to the third principle, which is the mechanism
for protection. Defend the rule of law. And they
got specific here, too. The Spanish Constitution
and the Statute of Autonomy of the Basque Country.
So those are the three pillars. No terrorism
support victims follow the law. It sounds simple,
but I imagine in a volatile environment, just
standing on those three pillars together can
be an incredible act of defiance. It is absolutely
an act of defiance because by asserting the rule
of law, you are denying the legitimacy of the
terrorist. You are saying you do not get to make
the rules with your gun. We make the rules with
our votes and our laws. This leads us to their
philosophy. Because it wasn't just about showing
up and shouting slogans. They had a very specific
intellectual framework for why they were protesting.
I found this part fascinating. The notes, this
distinction they made between moral criticism
and political criticism. Yes, this is a subtle
but really profound point. And it's one that
I think often gets lost in modern activism. The
organization explicitly stated that criticism
of terrorism on moral grounds is important. but
not enough not enough okay let's unpack that
because usually when we say something is immoral
that's like the ultimate condemnation if i say
thou shalt not kill that's the highest law for
many people why isn't that enough for basta ya
well think about the nature of moral criticism
it's often internal it's personal okay you could
sit in your living room watch the news about
a bombing and say that is terrible that is evil
i condemn that in my heart and then what You
change the channel, you go make dinner. Right.
It's a judgment, but it's not necessarily a plan.
It just stays in the realm of feelings or ethics.
Exactly. It doesn't cost you anything, and it
doesn't necessarily force the world to change.
It classifies the violence as a tragedy or a
sin. Bastia argued that criticism must also be
political. But, and I want to be clear here,
they didn't mean political in the sense of vote
for this party. No, and this is where language
gets tricky. We often hear political. and immediately
think partisan. They meant political in the classical
sense, relating to the polis, the city, the public
square, the way we govern ourselves as a society.
OK, so how did they define this political criticism?
What does that look like? They understood it
to be based on universal values, specifically
human rights. Their argument was that human rights
are common to all Democrats, regardless of their
party affiliations. I see. So by framing terrorism
as a violation of human rights, it stops being
a sad tragedy and becomes a political failure
that demands a response from the state. Precisely.
It shifts the burden. If terrorism is just evil,
we pray for it to stop. If terrorism is a violation
of the rule of law and human rights, we demand
the government fix it. We demand that the institutions
protecting those rights actually work. That is
a massive shift in mindset. It really empowers
the citizen. You aren't just a mourner anymore.
You are a claimant of rights. And the source
material says they were created to promote social
mobilization. They wanted to demand that authorities
fulfill the requirements of current legislation.
So it's just asking the institutions to do their
job. Respect the rule of law. That was the chant.
It wasn't create new laws, not necessarily, but
enforce the ones we already have that protect
life and liberty. They were effectively saying,
we have a contract, the Constitution. We are
keeping our side of the bargain. You need to
keep yours. The European Parliament actually
weighed in on this, didn't they? I remember they
had a summary of the group's ideals. They did.
When the European Parliament looked at Bastia,
they identified four main ideals that defined
the group. It's a really good summary of what
we've been discussing, but seeing it through
the lens of a major international body. Lay them
on me. First, a clear and peaceful opposition
to terrorism of any kind. And notice that emphasis
on peaceful. Right. They fight violence, but
not with violence. They don't form militias.
They don't become vigilantes. They demonstrate.
Yeah. If you fight violence with violence, you
just become another faction in the war. They
stayed above that. Second, support for victims.
And this is the flip side accountability for
perpetrators. They wanted to ensure that criminals
were made responsible for their actions through
the legal system. Justice, basically. Not revenge,
but justice. Third, and this touches on the atmosphere
of the time we mentioned earlier, the right to
hold non -nationalist views without aggression,
marginalization, or discrimination. That really
implies that just holding those views was dangerous.
It implies that there was a pressure cooker environment
where differing from the nationalist viewpoint
could lead to social exclusion, to threats, or
worse. It suggests a society where freedom of
speech was being stifled by fear. Bastia was
fighting for the right to simply disagree without
constantly looking over your shoulder. And the
fourth point. That democratic institutions must
respect the rule of law. It all comes back to
that. The institutions have to be the adults
in the room. They have to hold the line. It's
amazing how consistent they were. They really
stayed on message. They didn't drift into economic
policy or foreign wars or environmental issues.
That discipline is required for a movement like
this. If you drift, you lose that broad coalition.
If Bastia had started taking positions on tax
rates, half their members would have walked out
the door. Right. They had to stay focused on
the minimum common denominator, life, liberty
and the law. Okay, so we have the theory. We
have the principles. But what did this actually
look like on the ground? Because you can have
the best mission statement in the world, framed
by the smartest philosophers, but if nobody shows
up to your protest, it doesn't really matter.
And people did show up. The year 2000 is really
the case study for their mobilization power.
It was a huge turning point. The year 2000, Y2K.
While the rest of the world was checking their
computers for bugs, Bastia was hitting the streets.
And the world noticed. In 2000, Bastia won the
Sakharov Prize. Tell us about that prize. That
is a big deal. That is not some local participation
trophy. It is a huge deal. The Sakharov Prize
is awarded by the European Parliament for the
defense of human rights and freedoms. It's one
of the most prestigious recognitions a human
rights group or individual can receive. It puts
you in the history books. Who nominated them?
They were nominated by Gerardo Galeote Quesedo,
José Ignacio Salafranca, And others. But what's
interesting is why they were nominated. The European
Parliament didn't just give it to them for being
good people or having a nice logo. They cited
three distinct activities from that year that
proved their impact. OK, let's walk through these
three events, because I think they paint a really
vivid picture of what it must have felt like
to be there. This wasn't just one march. It was
a campaign. The first event cited was in February
2000. A demonstration in San Sebastian. In San
Sebastian. Doing this there is significant. That's
not a neutral location. It's the heart of the
region. It's a beautiful city. But at that time,
it was also a center of significant tension.
The slogan for this march was, Por la libertad,
ETA Campora. For freedom, ETA out. Simple. Direct.
Uncompromising. And the scale. The records say
it gathered more than 100 ,000 people. 100 ,000
people. I'm trying to visualize that. in a grassroots
demonstration. That is a sea of humanity. Imagine
the sound of that many people. For a civic initiative,
it is absolutely staggering. It showed that the
silent majority was no longer silent. It showed
that the fear that had kept people indoors was
starting to break. People looked around and saw
their neighbors, their grocers, their doctors,
all standing together. That creates a safety
in numbers. But then, interestingly, the second
event they cited was silent. Yes, the silent
demonstration. This took place at the boulevard.
The atmosphere described in the records is quite
moving. You have a specific member of the platform
inviting citizens to support the cause. And the
slogan here was different. It wasn't get out.
It was let's defend what joins us together. Let's
defend what joins us together. That is such a
pivot from the first one. The first one is rejection,
ETA out. The second one is affirmation. This
is what we share. It touches on that philosophy
of unity we discussed. A movement can start with
what it's against, but to survive. It usually
needs to define what it's for. Right. They were
for the bonds that held society together. It's
psychologically clever, too. It invites the other
side to consider what they share rather than
just highlighting the conflict. And then the
third event cited for the prize was the For Life
and Freedom demo. Por la vida y la libertad.
The full slogan was, For life and freedom, let
us defend what unites us, statute and constitution.
They really hammered that home, the statute and
the Constitution. They weren't just abstract
concepts for them. They were the shield. Exactly.
They were the tangible things that guaranteed
the freedom and life they were fighting for.
By linking life and freedom directly to statute
and Constitution, they were making the point
that you cannot have the former without the latter.
The law isn't a bureaucratic hurdle. It's the
prerequisite for a free life. So you have these
massive spikes of activity, big marches, hundreds
of thousands of people. But a movement can't
survive on just three big days a year. You can't
sustain momentum if you only show up every four
months. You're right. Adrenaline fades. And that
is why the regularity of their protest is the
next key point. In June of 2000, they initiated
a mass meeting on the first Thursday of every
month in San Sebastian. Every month, like clockwork.
Every first Thursday. Rain or shine. The purpose
was specifically solidarity with citizens who
were threatened or attacked for defending democratic
values. That is just brilliant strategy. It normalizes
the protest. It does. It transforms it from a
special event into a civic habit. It was a way
of saying to the aggressors, we are not going
away. You can't wait us out. It was a way of
saying to the victims, you are not alone. We
will be here every single month to prove it.
That kind of consistency creates a community.
If you go every month, you start to know people.
You build networks. It strengthens the very civic
fabric they were talking about defending. Exactly.
It builds resilience. So we have the masses in
the streets. But who was steering the ship? Who
were the faces of Bastoya? Because even a grassroots
movement usually has some spokespeople. And the
ecosystem of people is quite interesting. It
wasn't faceless. The records list several well
-known figures associated with the platform.
Names like John Huaristi, Mayete Pagasartundua,
Arkady Spada, Carmen Iglesias, Javier Ocuzu,
and Fernando Savater. Fernando Savater, he's
a philosopher, right? A very prominent philosopher
and writer. And having intellectuals, writers,
and public figures involved gave the movement
a certain articulate power. How so? Well, often
grassroots movements have all the passion, but
they can struggle to articulate the why. to the
broader world or the media. These were people
who could explain the philosophy, who could write
the op -eds, who could debate on television.
They provided the intellectual ammunition for
the movement. And that's brave. I mean, putting
your name on a manifesto or standing at the front
of a march in that climate, that was not a PR
stunt. That was a risk. Absolutely. These weren't
anonymous faces. They were putting their reputations
and potentially their safety on the line. When
you are a public face of an anti -terrorism movement,
you become a target. Their visibility gave courage
to others who might have been more hesitant to
step out. Okay, now let's talk about the practical
side, funding. Revolutions might run on passion,
but organizations run on money. You need to print
those banners. You need sound systems for the
rallies. Who paid for all this? This brings us
right back to the grassroots definition. The
primary source of financing was contributions
from private citizens. Just regular people writing
checks. Exactly. Passing them small donations.
It implies a really broad base of support. But
they also had support from foundations. The Miguel
Angel Blanco Foundation is mentioned specifically
as providing a subvention for their September
demonstration. And there were others, right?
The Gregorio Ordonez Foundation. White Hands
and Denon Artean. These groups all formed a sort
of support network. It shows that Bastia wasn't
operating in a vacuum. They were part of a larger
ecosystem of civic groups, all pushing for peace
and law. It's like a constellation of organizations
all moving in the same direction. Yes. And regarding
funding, we can't forget the prize. Winning the
Sakharov Prize came with more than just a certificate.
It came with cash. It did. It came with 50 ,000
euros. That's not chump change for a civic group.
No, it's significant. Yeah. Especially back then,
the records note that the group had that money
at its disposal to further their activities.
But again, look at the mix. Private citizens,
other foundations, and international prize money.
What's missing from that list? Government funding,
corporate sponsorship, political party stipends.
Right. This financial independence is crucial.
It reflects that civic nature of the initiative.
It allowed them to be critical. They could criticize
the IberX plan, a government plan without fear
of losing their government grant. They could
criticize political parties without fear of the
party cutting off their funding. It really is
the definition of a bottom -up initiative. They
were answerable only to their members and their
principals. And that independence is a superpower
in politics. If you can't be bought, you can't
be controlled. So let's just pause and look at
where we are in the story. They have the people.
They have the funding. They have international
recognition. They're winning prizes in Europe.
They are mobilizing hundreds of thousands. Usually
this is the part of the story where we talk about
how they expanded. Right. How they opened chapters
in Madrid, Paris and London. How they became
a permanent institution with a headquarters and
a pension plan. Usually, yes. The bureaucracy
tends to perpetuate itself. Once an organization
is built, its primary goal often becomes simply
staying alive. But that is not what happened
here. No. This is perhaps the most unique part
of the Bastille story. The dissolution. They
shut it down. They shut it down. In 2007, the
organization was dissolved. Why? Did they run
out of money? Did they have a massive internal
fight? Did a scandal bring them down? No. None
of that. They dissolved because they felt they
were no longer needed. That is. Wow. I mean,
you really have to think about that. How often
do you hear that? Thanks, everyone. Job done.
Go home. It's incredibly rare. But look at their
reasoning. The source material says they declared
a wish to dissolve as soon as possible because
their very existence implied a crisis. Right.
If you have an organization called Enough is
Enough and you're still in business 20 years
later, it means you still haven't had enough
or that the problem is still there. Exactly.
The very existence of Bastia was a symptom that
something was deeply wrong with the state. It
was an emergency flare. And once the rescue boat
arrives, you put out the flare. If Bastilla exists,
it means the institutions aren't working. So
closing the doors was the ultimate sign of success.
What were the specific conditions that allowed
them to say mission accomplished? Because the
world wasn't perfect in 2007. No, it wasn't perfect.
Right. But they cited two main reasons that met
their criteria. First, that citizens of Spain
were no longer running the risk of being assassinated
or attacked because of their ideas or identities.
Safety. The physical threat had subsided enough.
Safety. The days of looking under your car for
a bomb were fading. The acute emergency was over.
And second, that the rule of law was working
in a reasonable way. Working in a reasonable
way. I love that phrasing. It's such a pragmatic
benchmark. They didn't say the world is utopia
now. They didn't say everyone loves each other
and sings Kumbaya. They just said the system
is working reasonably well. It's a very mature
political stance. They recognize that democracy
doesn't mean perfection. It just means the institutions
function, the laws are upheld, and violence isn't
the primary tool of political discourse. Once
that bar was met, they felt they could step back.
It's almost like a volunteer fire department.
You don't hang out at the burning house once
the fire is out. You go home. You don't keep
spraying water on dry walls just to look busy.
That is a perfect analogy. You don't want the
fire department to be a permanent fixture in
your living room. You want them to leave so you
can live your life. Bastaya recognized that the
fire was under control. The institutions, the
professional fire department, if you will, could
handle it from there. But they did leave a caveat,
didn't they? They didn't just burn the fire trucks.
They did. Even in dissolution, they expressed
determination. They said they would mobilize
again whenever it seems necessary. So it wasn't
a goodbye forever. It was a stand down for now.
It was a vigilant dormancy. We are dissolving
the structure, but the spirit remains. If the
rule of law is threatened again, if violence
returns. The network can reactivate. It's a warning
to anyone who might threaten democracy. We are
still here. We're just watching from home now.
That's powerful. It really challenges the way
we think about activism. We so often think success
is getting bigger, getting more followers, getting
more donations. We measure impact by the size
of the budget. But for them, success was obsolescent.
It forces us to ask, what is the goal? Is the
goal the organization or is the goal the change?
If the goal is the change, then the organization
is just a tool. It's a hammer. And when the nail
is driven in, you put the hammer down. You don't
walk around hitting things just because you have
a hammer. I think that's a lesson a lot of modern
movements could learn from. It requires a lot
of ego to be checked at the door. You have to
be willing to stop being the leader of a movement
because the movement has succeeded. You have
to be willing to go back to being just a citizen.
So let's recap this whole journey. We started
with the phrase, enough is enough. We saw a group
of diverse citizens, left, right, center, come
together. Not a party, but a civic initiative.
Grassroots in the truest sense. United by three
simple principles. No terrorism. Support victims.
Defend the law. They shifted the entire conversation
from moral criticism, which is personal, to political
criticism, which is about rights and laws. They
mobilized massive crowds, 100 ,000 strong in
San Sebastian, and won the Sakharov Prize in
2004. They were funded by the people, for the
people, kept their independence. And finally,
when the risk to life subsided and the rule of
law was secure, they did the most radical thing
of all. They dissolved. They fired themselves.
It's a complete arc. It has a beginning, a middle,
and an end. It feels like a story that actually
has closure, which is so rare in history. And
it serves as a historical proof of concept. It
proves that civil society can stand up to violence.
It proves that people can cross ideological lines
when the stakes are high enough. And it proves
that it's possible to win without becoming the
thing you hate. That is the hopeful part, isn't
it? That terrorism and political violence aren't
inevitable. They can be pushed back. They can
be pushed back, but not by silence. They're pushed
back by mobilization, by visibility, and by a
stubborn defense of what unites us. Let's defend
what joins us together. That was the slogan.
It's a good slogan. It's a necessary slogan.
You know, as we wrap up this deep dive, I keep
thinking about that decision to close up shop.
In a world where every organization is fighting
to stay relevant, to keep the lights on, to find
the next crisis to justify their budget. It is
deeply counterintuitive. It is, but it's also
really inspiring. So here's my thought for you,
the listener, to chew on. We often judge the
success of an organization by how long it lasts.
We see established 1900 on a sign and we think,
wow, they must be good. We see longevity as validity.
But maybe we should flip that. Exactly. What
if we judged success by how quickly an organization
makes itself unnecessary? If you are fighting
a problem, shouldn't your ultimate goal be to
eliminate the problem and, by extension, yourself?
A doctor's goal is to cure the patient. So the
patient doesn't need to come back. If the patient
keeps coming back forever, the doctor hasn't
really succeeded. Right. So in your own life
or in the causes you support, are you building
something designed to last forever? Or are you
building something designed to solve the problem?
What can we learn from a group whose ultimate
victory was to not need to exist at all? That
is the question. Thanks for listening to this
deep dive to Bastia. We'll see you next time.