Cruelty is the law pervading all nature and society; and we can't

Hear the somber voice of Thomas Hardy, poet of fate and chronicler of sorrow, when he declared: “Cruelty is the law pervading all nature and society; and we can’t get out of it if we would.” These words strike like a cold wind in the night, for they are not words of comfort but of naked truth. Hardy, who gazed upon the world with unflinching eyes, saw that pain, struggle, and the indifference of the cosmos are not accidents, but threads woven into the very fabric of existence.

When he speaks of cruelty as the law, he does not mean only human malice, but the wider reality of life itself. In nature, the lion hunts the gazelle, the storm uproots the tree, the plague cuts down the innocent. In society, the strong rise upon the labor of the weak, injustice strikes without warning, and hearts are broken by betrayal, poverty, or war. Hardy insists that such suffering is not an exception to life—it is its rule. We may long for a world of gentleness, but the world gives us struggle; we may dream of peace, but the law of life demands conflict.

Consider the story of the Black Death that swept across Europe in the fourteenth century. It came like a shadow, sparing neither king nor peasant, striking households with merciless hand. To those who lived through it, it seemed as though cruelty itself had become the reigning monarch of the earth. Priests prayed, healers worked, but the law Hardy speaks of prevailed: death and suffering moved unchallenged. Yet from this horror, society itself was transformed—labor grew dear, serfs found freedom, and the world stumbled into new forms of life. Even in cruelty, change and renewal were born.

Hardy’s wisdom lies in his honesty. He strips away illusion. Too often, men imagine that society is fair, that nature is kind, that goodness alone rules the world. Hardy dares to say otherwise: suffering is universal, inescapable, bound to life itself. But this truth, though grim, is also liberating. For when we accept the law of cruelty, we are no longer naive. We are prepared for hardship, we do not stumble in shock when life strikes, and we can rise with strength when others fall into despair.

Yet Hardy’s vision is not an excuse for cruelty, but a summons to compassion. If cruelty is indeed the law that governs all, then the human heart must rebel against it. For though we cannot escape it in the great sweep of existence, we can soften its blow in small ways: by acts of mercy, by bonds of love, by refusing to add to the world’s weight of suffering. To know that cruelty is everywhere is not to surrender to it, but to see more clearly why kindness is sacred.

The lesson is clear: do not expect life to be gentle, but be gentle yourself. Do not assume the world will be fair, but live with justice in your own hand. In this way, we do not break Hardy’s law, for that is impossible, but we become lights within its darkness, islands of mercy in a sea of pain. The cruelty of nature and society is real, but so too is the power of human will to resist it, to create beauty, to ease the burdens of others.

Therefore, O listener, let your actions be these: accept that suffering cannot be escaped, but refuse to be its servant. Offer comfort where you can, justice where you must, and love always. For the world will never cease to be cruel, but you may cease to add to its cruelty. Hardy shows us the iron law of life, but in knowing it, we may choose to forge a nobler path within it. In this choice lies the true heroism of mankind: not to deny the darkness, but to carry light through it.