Alas, nothing reveals man the way war does. Nothing so

“Alas, nothing reveals man the way war does. Nothing so accentuates in him the beauty and ugliness, the intelligence and foolishness, the brutishness and humanity, the courage and cowardice, the enigma.” Thus wrote Oriana Fallaci, the fearless Italian journalist whose pen cut through the fog of war like a blade of truth. In these words, she captures the eternal paradox of the human soul—that within the same heart dwell both light and shadow, both the saint and the savage. War, she tells us, is not merely the clash of armies—it is the mirror in which humanity sees itself most clearly. In peace, man may hide behind the veil of civility; in war, the mask is torn away, and what remains is the raw truth of his nature.

Oriana Fallaci spoke not as an observer of theory but as one who had walked through the fire. She reported from the frontlines of Vietnam, the Middle East, and Latin America. She had seen soldiers laugh beside corpses, doctors weep over strangers, and mothers cradle the remains of their sons. From the trenches of horror, she discerned that war strips away pretense—it shows man as he truly is, not as he pretends to be. It is the great revealer, the stage upon which all contradictions play at once. In the same battlefield, one man commits unspeakable cruelty while another performs acts of divine compassion. War amplifies all things—the noble and the vile, the beautiful and the grotesque.

To say that war reveals man is to acknowledge that crisis exposes character. In the ordinary rhythms of life, one may disguise weakness with charm, greed with ambition, or apathy with politeness. But when life and death hang in the balance, the soul has no refuge in disguise. In the roar of destruction, one’s true nature emerges. The coward seeks shelter in betrayal, while the brave give their last breath for others. The foolish rush blindly toward ruin, while the wise preserve what remains of reason. The brutal delight in blood, while the merciful tend to the wounded. In this way, war becomes the terrible lens through which every virtue and vice stands in unbearable clarity.

Consider the story of The Christmas Truce of 1914, when British and German soldiers, weary of killing, laid down their arms on a frozen battlefield. They shared songs, food, and photographs, even played football in the snow. For one night, humanity triumphed over the machinery of death. But the next morning, under orders, they resumed their slaughter. This moment—fragile, radiant, and tragic—embodies Fallaci’s insight. It shows that even in the darkest hours, beauty and brutality coexist within man. The same hands that kill can also comfort; the same hearts that harden can still feel love. This is the enigma she speaks of—the eternal contradiction at the core of the human condition.

War, then, is not only a battlefield of nations but a battlefield of the soul. It calls forth both heroism and madness, both compassion and cruelty. It is the crucible in which humanity is both tested and revealed. Fallaci’s lament—her “Alas”—is not only for the suffering war brings, but for the sorrowful knowledge it grants. She grieves that we must descend into horror to glimpse our own truth. Yet she also honors the courage of those who, in the midst of chaos, remain human—who protect the innocent, speak truth amid lies, and refuse to let hatred consume their spirit. These are the ones who prove that even in hell, the divine spark within man can still burn bright.

From her insight we may draw a lesson for our own times. Though we may not walk through battlefields of steel, we each face wars of another kind—moral, emotional, spiritual. We live in an age of division and conflict, where truth and virtue are often at war with comfort and pride. In these battles, too, our nature is revealed. When faced with cruelty, do we respond with anger or compassion? When tempted by deceit, do we cling to integrity or surrender to convenience? The war within each of us is the same that rages across nations—it is the struggle between light and darkness, courage and fear.

Therefore, let this teaching of Oriana Fallaci be passed down as a torch of awareness: seek to know who you are not in peace, but in trial. When conflict finds you—whether on the battlefield or in daily life—watch what emerges within. Do not shrink from what you see, for self-knowledge, even when painful, is the first victory. And strive always to let your better self prevail, for the test of character is not in comfort, but in confrontation. For as Fallaci reminds us, war—outer or inner—reveals the depths of man’s nature, and though it may unveil his ugliness, it also unveils his potential for greatness. Amid the chaos, choose to be among those whose courage, humanity, and wisdom endure when all else falls away.