An empire founded by war has to maintain itself by war.

In the eternal dance of history, where empires have risen and fallen like the tides of an ancient sea, one undeniable truth persists: the foundation of many great powers has often been forged in the fires of war. Montesquieu, the wise French philosopher who illuminated the minds of men during the Age of Enlightenment, captured this truth with striking clarity when he said, "An empire founded by war has to maintain itself by war." These words are not merely a statement of political theory, but a warning—a lament for the enduring cycle of violence that sustains empires built upon conquest and domination.

Montesquieu’s insight speaks to the inherent paradox of an empire established through force. When a nation or empire rises to power by conquering lands and subjugating peoples, it does so through the exercise of military strength. This strength becomes the foundation upon which the empire stands. However, once the empire has been built on war, it must continually rely on war to maintain its dominance and suppress the forces of rebellion or insurrection. For, in the eyes of the conquered, an empire founded on conquest can never be legitimate. It is inherently unstable, for it has been established not by the will of the people, but through the imposition of force. Thus, an empire born of bloodshed must forever keep the sword at hand to secure its existence, and to prevent the shifting tides of history from sweeping it into the abyss.

Consider the ancient Roman Empire, which stands as a prime example of Montesquieu’s words. Rome, at its height, was an empire of unimaginable power, its legions marching across vast swathes of the known world. But the very nature of Rome’s expansion—its conquest of Gaul, its subjugation of Britain, its domination of the Mediterranean—meant that it could not rest on its laurels. The Roman Empire was not built upon a peaceful coexistence with its neighbors but upon violence and force. In the centuries that followed, as the empire stretched ever further, its borders became increasingly difficult to defend, and it was forced into a perpetual state of warfare—fighting off barbarian invasions, internal uprisings, and military coups. The Roman legions, once a symbol of glory, became the empire's lifeblood, and the empire's stability depended on the continued ability to wage war against any who threatened its fragile existence.

A more recent example lies in the British Empire, which, at its zenith, was the largest empire the world had ever known. Its empire spanned vast oceans, countless territories, and governed millions of people across continents. However, the very foundation of the British Empire was established through centuries of colonial conquest, whether through the military subjugation of indigenous peoples or the economic exploitation of conquered lands. The empire maintained its vast expanse through an army and navy that enforced its will, suppressing rebellions and independence movements with ruthless efficiency. Over time, as nationalism spread throughout the world, Britain found itself increasingly drawn into wars of resistance—fighting wars in the American colonies, in India, in Africa, and in the Middle East. Each victory or defeat did not bring peace, but merely a temporary respite until the next battle was fought. War was not an anomaly, but the mechanism that kept the empire intact.

Montesquieu’s principle can also be applied to modern empires—even to the superpowers of today. The United States, a nation that ascended to global prominence through military victories such as those in World War II and the Cold War, now finds itself caught in a cycle of military involvement. From the Vietnam War to the conflict in the Middle East, the U.S. has struggled to extricate itself from the web of conflict it once wove, with each new war feeding into the last, and each victory offering only fleeting peace before another battle is fought. The constant need to maintain military dominance has drained resources, destabilized regions, and often left the American people questioning the legitimacy of the conflicts they are drawn into.

The lesson of Montesquieu’s wisdom lies in the stark truth that empires built on force must forever be haunted by the specter of violence. War becomes not just a tool of expansion, but a necessity for survival. Those who found their nations on the wages of conquest are bound to face endless challenges, both from without and within. Peace, for such an empire, is a fleeting illusion—forever at odds with the nature of its birth.

As we reflect on these truths, we must ask ourselves: how do we build a world that is not founded on conquest, but on cooperation, justice, and understanding? In our personal lives, we too can be trapped in the cycles of conflict—whether they are battles with our own fears, insecurities, or relationships. The lesson here is that only by relying on wisdom, compassion, and patience can we transcend the endless cycles of destruction and build a future that is based not on the sword, but on the strength of the human spirit. Let us, therefore, strive to create a world where empires of the mind and heart are built on the foundations of peace, where the legacy we leave behind is not one of war, but of unity, understanding, and lasting harmony.