CBC Radio Noon asked an interesting question on February 19, 2026: Which political speeches have stayed with you?
The truth is, most political speeches don’t stay with us. We hear them, react for a moment, and then they disappear. Some sound polished, some just don’t ring true, and many are forgotten almost as soon as they end.
But every now and then, one does. Not because it is elegant or dramatic, but because it speaks to what people are living through. It says something people need to hear, and it says it clearly.
A few come to mind for me. They are very different from one another, but each one came at a moment when reassurance, clarity, or conviction seemed to matter.
Kennedy in Berlin
One of the speeches that stands out to me is John F. Kennedy’s speech in West Berlin in 1963.
When he said, “Ich bin ein Berliner,” it was more than a famous line. It was a show of solidarity at a time when people in West Berlin were living with real fear and uncertainty. The city was surrounded by Communist East Germany, the Berlin Wall had gone up only two years earlier, and the fear of being abandoned by the West was very real.
Kennedy understood that. He kept it simple and got straight to the point. He made it clear that West Berlin mattered and that its people were not alone.
His line, “All free men, wherever they may live, are citizens of Berlin,” made that message even stronger.
That is why the speech still matters. It was clear, direct, and reassuring.
Donald Trump in New Hampshire
Another very different example was one I heard in person, before Donald Trump became president.
He was speaking at a rally in New Hampshire during his early campaign. He introduced himself, talked about what he wanted to do, and spoke about his family, including his wife, children, and grandchildren.
I was at the rally, and hearing him in person made a real difference.
Whatever one thinks of Trump politically, the energy in the room was unmistakable. People responded to his confidence and the fact that he spoke plainly.
That helped me see why people were drawn to him. It was clearer in person than it would have been on television.
I left convinced.
Marco Rubio in Munich
More recently, I was impressed by Marco Rubio’s address at the Munich Security Conference, given just days after Mark Carney spoke at the same forum.
Rubio was very direct, and that worked. His message to Europe was simple: the United States is not walking away from its allies, but alliances have to work both ways.
He also placed today’s problems in a larger historical context. He spoke about World War II, the Cold War, and the fall of the Berlin Wall. His point was that Western civilization did not hold together on its own. It held because people were prepared to defend it.
He spoke plainly about difficult issues: disappearing factories, weak borders, the loss of key industries, Islamist extremism, China’s predatory economic practices, and Putin’s colonial expansion into Ukraine.
The reaction in the room was telling. People seemed relieved to hear someone speak so openly. It felt less like a lecture and more like an honest discussion.
When Words Carry Weight
These speeches are very different, but to me they have one thing in common: they came at the right time.
Kennedy spoke to a city that needed reassurance. Trump spoke to voters who felt unheard. Rubio spoke to allies who needed to be reminded that the West cannot hold together on sentiment alone.
Most political speeches fade because they are too careful and don’t really say much. The ones we remember are the ones that say something clearly when it matters.
Lately, I have been noticing how quickly people change their standards depending on who they are talking about.
That was on full display when news broke on January 3 that Nicolás Maduro and his wife had been forcibly apprehended in Venezuela after twenty years in power. The language was familiar enough: justice, law, sovereignty, human rights. But the outrage shifted very quickly.
And honestly, the reaction told its own story.
Venezuela and the Sovereignty Debate
I could not help noticing how quickly people rushed to defend sovereignty. Then I came across a post by Mitchell Schneider that said, more directly than most, what a lot of people seemed to be missing:
“Because of Venezuela, everyone is suddenly an expert on sovereignty. Let me tell you what sovereignty actually means under international law, because I don’t think most people screaming about it have any idea.
‘Sovereignty’ isn’t about who controls the land with guards, guns, and ammunition. If it were, every warlord with a checkpoint would be a ‘sovereign.’ Every drug cartel would be sovereign. Every terrorist organization holding land would be sovereign.
Sovereignty requires not only ‘effective control,’ but also an assessment of the extent to which that control represents the will of the people and supports their well-being. International recognition and adherence to international obligations are shorthand for laws that embody human rights and the welfare of the governed. These are corollaries to the main principle.
Nicolás Maduro may have had military control, but he lacked the other three requirements.
The will of the people? Maduro lost the July 2024 election by a margin of two to one. The Carter Center confirmed it. The opposition released tally sheets from more than 80 percent of voting machines. Maduro declared victory anyway.
Adherence to international obligations and human rights? After he seized power, Maduro imprisoned roughly 1,700 political opponents, including children; disappeared untold thousands; forcibly shut down opposition voices; and forced María Corina Machado—recently awarded the Nobel Peace Prize—into hiding for fear of her life. For years, he also presided over the Cartel de los Soles from the presidential palace: a narco-terrorist operation that flooded American streets with cocaine.”
That gets to the heart of it.
The United States did not invade Venezuela. It executed a long-standing arrest warrant against a man widely seen as having lost an election, refused to leave office, and ruled through repression. Yet so much of the outrage was aimed not at Maduro’s record, but at the supposed violation of his sovereignty.
That is what I find so revealing.
The Double Standard
Schneider also said something else that, to me, is impossible to brush aside:
“Here is what makes this so infuriating. Many of the same voices rushing to defend Maduro’s ‘sovereignty’ have spent years insisting that Israel has no right to defend itself when Hamas fires rockets from Gaza, when Hezbollah launches missiles from Lebanon, or when Iran builds drone factories in Venezuela to manufacture weapons that kill Israeli civilians. But Venezuela’s sovereignty is sacred; the sovereignty of Israel, apparently, does not exist. The double standard is not subtle, and it is not kind. But thank God, some members of the public still retain the ability to articulate moral clarity.”
That is the part I find hardest to ignore.
Venezuela’s sovereignty suddenly becomes sacred, while Israel’s right to defend itself is treated as conditional, debatable, or somehow less real. At a certain point, it stops looking like principle and starts looking like selective outrage.
I think a lot of people see that, even if they do not always say it out loud.
Power and Legitimacy
President Trump does not sugarcoat things, and that bluntness shows up in foreign policy, too. Maduro is now in U.S. federal custody. Assad fled to Moscow. Hezbollah, Hamas, the Houthis, and Iran have all taken real hits, while Russia has been warned.
Whatever one thinks of Trump, one point stands out: occupying a presidential palace does not make a ruler legitimate.
Power is not the same thing as legitimacy.
You cannot call it justice just because it is wrapped in legal language.
What the Media Leaves Out
This moment also points to something larger. The media does not simply report stories. It shapes them.
HonestReporting puts it well:
“Visual storytelling shapes perception just as powerfully as headlines, and omissions can be as revealing as what is included. This matters because editorial choices are rarely neutral. Year-end photo roundups are often presented as objective snapshots of the world, but they reflect deliberate decisions about which conflicts dominate, which images stir emotion, and which stories quietly disappear.”
As HonestReporting demonstrates in this video, these omissions are not accidental. They are editorial decisions, and they play a powerful role in shaping global public opinion and elections.
That point matters.
What gets shown matters. What gets left out matters too. The images people see, the stories editors amplify, the ones they minimize, the faces they return to again and again, all of that shapes public opinion.
And no, I do not think those omissions are always accidental.
Can We Judge a Culture?
This question of storytelling goes beyond journalism.
Professor Gad Saad recently pointed to a new book, The Hoaxing of Margaret Mead, that takes another look at Margaret Mead’s work on Samoa and the problems at its core. Her work helped spread the idea that cultures should be treated as beyond judgment.
I do not agree.
Cultures are different, yes. But that does not mean they are beyond criticism. Human beings still share certain needs. Children need protection. Families need stability. Communities need some way to restrain cruelty, selfishness, and chaos. Societies need standards, not just slogans.
So I think it is fair to ask hard questions.
Do the values of a culture promote fairness? Do they protect the vulnerable? Do they encourage responsibility? Do they make life more stable, decent, and humane?
Those are not hateful questions. They are necessary ones.
Jewish Sources Still Matter
It is also worth remembering how much of the West’s moral vocabulary grew out of Jewish sources.
Christianity and Islam both drew heavily from Jewish texts and ideas. The Torah, the Talmud, and centuries of Jewish learning have shaped not only Jewish communities and the State of Israel, but much of the Western moral world as well, whether people realize it or not.
What I have always appreciated about the Talmud is how grounded it is. It is not abstract for the sake of sounding lofty. It is deeply concerned with everyday life: law, family, responsibility, justice, debate, duty, and care for others.
How do we raise children?
How do we protect the vulnerable?
How do we pursue justice?
How do we build a society worth living in?
These are ancient questions, but they do not feel ancient at all.
What Keeps Me Grounded
We all understand physical needs. We know we need food, rest, movement, and care. But people also need meaning, direction, and something that helps them feel steady.
More and more, we are hearing about young people returning to churches, looking for meaning and community. I can understand that. A lot of people today seem to be searching for something that feels real and steady.
I understand that.
For me, synagogue on Sabbath morning gives me that sense of steadiness, whether I am in Montreal or Jerusalem. It reminds me that life is bigger than whatever outrage is dominating the headlines that week.
And maybe that is why this matters to me as much as it does.
Because beneath the politics, beneath the media framing, beneath the debates over sovereignty and law, there is still a deeper question: what kind of world are we trying to sustain?
What This Is Really About
In the end, this is not only about Maduro. And it is not only about Trump, media bias, or the idea that some values are off-limits to criticism.
It is about whether we are willing to be consistent. And it is about whether we still know the difference between power and legitimacy, and between justice and selective outrage.
It is also about whether we are paying attention to the stories we are being told, and the ones we are being encouraged to ignore.
The values we defend, the hypocrisies we excuse, and the truths we are willing to face say far more about us than any slogan ever will.
Throughout history, we’ve been captivated by stories of heroes— remarkable individuals whose courage and selflessness leave an enduring mark on the world. These heroes come from all walks of life, contributing in grand and small ways. Whether legendary warriors or contemporary activists, their legacies remind us that anyone can make a meaningful difference, regardless of their background. Even the most minor actions can ripple through history, shaping the future in ways we might never fully realize.
Modern Heroes
Recently, I’ve been deeply moved by the stories of modern-day heroes like Juan Pujol García. Born in Portugal, his bravery in working as a double agent during World War II is a testament to the power of wit and strategy. Imagine the tension of World War II—nations teetering on the brink, every move crucial.
Pujol’s daring idea to feed false information to the Nazis wasn’t just brave—it was genius. He earned their trust to the point where they sent him on a mission to Britain, believing he was on their side. But Pujol had something else in mind. On English soil, he wove a complex web of lies, creating an entire network of fake English double agents. Can you imagine the nerve it took to pull that off?
As “Agent Garbo,” Pujol didn’t just trick the German High Command once or twice—he did it multiple times, each deception more elaborate than the last. Picture rows of balloon tanks and planes that never took off, all part of his plan to mislead the Germans about the Allies’ next move. His story is a powerful reminder of how one person’s courage and cleverness can truly shape history.
Similarly, when I watched Simone, Woman of the Century, a documentary about Simone Veil, I was struck by her resilience and determination. Veil’s journey began with the innocence of a happy childhood in a secular Jewish family, a stark contrast to the horrors she would later endure. When her family was arrested and deported to Auschwitz during World War II, her world was shattered. Yet, even in the darkest times, Veil’s spirit never broke.
The documentary highlighted the milestones that marked her incredible life. After surviving the concentration camp, she returned to France, where she earned a law degree, raised a family, and embarked on a groundbreaking political career. One moment that particularly resonated with me was her courageous fight to secure legal abortion rights in France—a predominantly Catholic country—demonstrating her unwavering commitment to women’s rights.
As the first president of the European Parliament, Veil’s work to prevent the conflicts that had long plagued Europe reminded me of the power of leadership driven by personal experience and deep conviction. Her life is not just a chapter in history; it’s a source of inspiration for anyone who values justice, equality, and remembrance.
Simone Veil’s story is a poignant reminder of what it means to persevere, to lead, and to ensure that the lessons of the past are never forgotten. Her legacy continues to inspire me, particularly in the ongoing fight for gender equality and the preservation of Holocaust memory, which remains as relevant today as ever.
Celebrating Unsung Heroes
When I think about heroes, I realize many don’t seek recognition. They’re the ones who quietly make a difference, often without expecting anything in return. Their bravery, selflessness, and commitment leave an indelible mark on history. We should celebrate these unsung heroes, learn from their examples, and strive to positively impact the world.
Reflecting on these stories, I’m reminded of the unsung heroes in my life—those who have shown me kindness, stood up for what’s right, or simply been there when I needed them most. They might not make the history books, but their impact on my life is immeasurable.
Who are the heroes in your life? Are there people around you whose quiet acts of courage and kindness have made a difference?
