A marriage without conflicts is almost as inconceivable as a

“A marriage without conflicts is almost as inconceivable as a nation without crises.” So declared André Maurois, and in his words shines a deep understanding of both the private life of two souls and the public life of many. For just as nations are forged through trial, disagreement, and the storms of crisis, so too are marriages shaped and strengthened through conflict. To imagine a union without dispute is to imagine a river without current or a sky without storm—it is to imagine a thing lifeless, without growth, without movement.

The ancients often taught that struggle is the parent of strength. Heraclitus declared, “War is the father of all things,” not to glorify bloodshed, but to remind us that tension gives birth to renewal. In the same way, marriage is not a state of unbroken harmony, but a dynamic union where two different beings meet, clash, reconcile, and grow. Without conflicts, marriage would stagnate, becoming a polite façade rather than a living covenant. Just as nations cannot progress without facing crises, so too can marriages not mature without confronting discord.

Consider the long union of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. Their marriage was not free from strife—indeed, it was marked by profound personal conflicts, betrayals, and separations of the heart. Yet through these storms, they built a partnership that reshaped history, standing together in the face of national and global crises. Their conflicts did not destroy their bond; instead, they transformed it into a deeper, more enduring union. Their marriage stands as proof of Maurois’s words: harmony is not the absence of storms but the ability to endure them together.

Maurois also draws a parallel with the life of nations, and here lies further wisdom. A nation without crises is a nation asleep, stagnant, decaying. Crises—whether wars, revolutions, or economic collapses—though painful, become the furnace in which nations refine themselves. Likewise, in the smaller nation of two that is marriage, conflict is the furnace where patience is tested, forgiveness forged, and love made resilient. A bond that never faces disagreement has not yet been tested, and what is untested cannot claim to be strong.

There is also a warning hidden in this truth. Just as nations can be torn apart by mishandled crises, so too can marriages perish if conflicts are left to fester, ignored, or fought without wisdom. The lesson is not that conflict is good in itself, but that conflict is inevitable, and how it is met determines whether the union will endure or collapse. A nation guided by just leaders may emerge stronger from its crises; a marriage guided by humility and mutual respect may emerge stronger from its quarrels.

What, then, shall we learn from Maurois? That we must abandon the illusion of perfect peace in marriage. Do not despair when disagreements arise, for they are as natural as storms upon the sea. Instead, cultivate the art of navigating them. Listen when pride urges you to speak, forgive when anger urges you to condemn, and remember that the bond itself is greater than the passing quarrel. Just as nations rebuild after war, so too must couples rebuild after conflict, brick by brick, with patience and devotion.

Practical wisdom follows: when conflict comes, do not see it as a sign of failure, but as an invitation to growth. Speak honestly, but with gentleness. Seek resolution, not victory. When tempests rise, remember that the goal is not to defeat your partner, but to strengthen the bond you share. In this way, the storms of marriage become not threats, but teachers—harsh at times, but wise.

Thus Maurois’s words, spoken with the insight of one who saw both the trials of nations and the struggles of hearts, remain true for all generations. A marriage without conflicts would be as lifeless as a nation without crises. Embrace the storms, therefore, not with fear but with courage, for through them love is tested, refined, and made eternal.