The other day, outside a restaurant, I sat tossing tortilla chips to a group of tiny birds.  They had formed a little flight path and would tentatively land nearby and hop over to grab a morsel before fleeing away.  Suddenly, a large grackle swooped down and cleared out the area.  The giant black bird hopped in a circle humbling all challengers.  Finally, it tilted its head to appraise its booty only to realize that the tiny morsels were not worth the effort.  After a moment’s hesitation, it lunged back into flight.  Before I knew it, the little birds were back.

In that scene, I witnessed the hope of the weak.  The inefficiency of the large makes them more vulnerable to the shifting tides of fortune.  The tiniest rodent could endure what killed the mightiest dinosaur.  Large nations, like large animals, are betrayed by their large bellies.  Though the world’s poor may appear helpless against the mighty armies that strut unopposed across every boundary, it is the weak who will inherit the earth.  Over time, the small can survive what the large cannot.