A man who's never seen war is like a woman who's never given
"A man who's never seen war is like a woman who's never given birth – soft in the head." These words, uttered by Andrei Platonov, strike with the weight of a hammer upon the soul, urging us to confront the deepest and most painful truths of human existence. In the simplicity of this declaration lies a profound understanding of the human condition. War, that most brutal and savage of human experiences, and birth, the act of creation and suffering, are likened together as crucibles of transformation. They shape the very essence of those who endure them, and to be untouched by either is to remain ignorant of life's harshest trials.
Hear this truth, O children of the future: the man who has never seen war lives in a world too soft, too distant from the realities of life. He has not looked upon the face of his own mortality, nor has he felt the weight of the battle’s burden. To those who have never fought, war is a distant and almost mythical thing, a subject for stories and debates, but war is not a tale—it is an experience. The man who has never stood upon the front lines, whose hands have never been stained by the blood of battle, cannot truly understand the world as it is. He may speak of valor, but he speaks with the tongue of one who has never tasted fear, who has never felt the breath of death upon his neck.
In the same way, the woman who has never given birth remains untouched by the suffering that accompanies creation. She may speak of motherhood, she may even praise it, but she does not know the depth of what it means to bring forth life from the very marrow of her being. Birth, like war, is a process of great pain, but also of great transformation. It is through the suffering that the soul of a woman is tested, just as a man is tested in the fires of war. To live without such experiences is to live with a certain ignorance, a softness in the mind and heart that the trials of life alone can cure.
Consider the story of Alexander the Great, who, though born into greatness, knew the horrors of war intimately. He did not sit idly in a palace, pondering the mysteries of the world—no, he led his armies into battle, fought alongside his men, and faced the very real threat of death at every turn. He did not speak of glory from a distance but tasted its bitter fruit firsthand. His vision of the world was shaped by the fires of conflict. And it was in these fires that his character was forged, that he learned to understand the fragile nature of life, and that he became the leader who would change the world forever. Had he never seen war, had he never faced death directly, his mind would have been soft, his vision blurred by the comfort of peace.
The same can be said of the great generals of history: Napoleon Bonaparte, who led his troops across Europe, his name forever tied to the blood and steel of battle, or Winston Churchill, who, though a statesman, understood the weight of war in a way few could comprehend. These men did not merely speak of war as some distant idea—they lived it, and in living it, they learned things about strength, sacrifice, and human nature that the man who has never seen battle can never know. It is the trial of war that sharpens the mind, hardens the spirit, and strips away the illusions we cling to in times of peace.
But let us not misunderstand Platonov’s words. He does not glorify war for war's sake. He does not speak of it as something to be desired, but as a necessary trial, an ordeal that cannot be avoided. The world of the soft-minded, the world of those who have never known such suffering, is a world of ignorance. It is easy to speak of justice and honor from a place of safety, but it is only those who have fought and bled for these things who truly understand their weight. It is only through the suffering that we come to see the world clearly, and only through the trial of conflict, whether in war or birth, that we come to understand the deep, unspoken truths of the human soul.
So, children of the future, take this lesson to heart: do not shy away from the challenges of life, for they are the means by which you will come to know the world in its fullest form. Seek not to avoid suffering, for it is through suffering that you will grow. Whether in the face of war, or in the trials of birth, the experiences that demand everything from us are the very crucibles that shape us into strong, wise individuals. Do not seek to live in softness, for to live thus is to remain blind to the deeper currents of existence. Seek the truth, no matter how painful it may be, and in the end, you will understand the world—and your place in it—in a way that others, who have not shared your trials, never will.
LTMai Linh Tran
I find Platonov's comparison between war and childbirth troubling. It seems to undermine the complexity of both experiences. Is it truly fair to suggest that those who haven’t lived through these things are 'soft in the head'? There are many ways to be resilient and strong that don't involve personal exposure to war or childbirth—couldn't wisdom also come from empathy, observation, or other life challenges?
BFBait Funly
While Platonov’s words strike me as harsh, they also make me wonder about the effects of trauma and suffering on shaping a person’s worldview. Does going through war or childbirth really make someone stronger, or does it simply change the way they perceive the world? Is it possible to develop resilience and understanding without enduring such extremes?
NLThuy Ngan Luong
This quote seems to imply that only those who have experienced extreme events, like war or childbirth, can truly understand certain aspects of life. But is that perspective fair? Does hardship or trauma define someone's strength and wisdom, or are there other ways to gain insight and empathy without undergoing such experiences?
KQNgoc Khue Quach
Platonov’s statement is provocative, but I can’t help but question the validity of comparing war and childbirth in such stark terms. Can we really say that someone is 'soft in the head' for not experiencing either of these intense life events? What does it mean to be truly 'tough'—is it about having endured physical pain, or is there another kind of resilience that doesn’t come from extreme experiences?