I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty

The great playwright and philosopher George Bernard Shaw, whose wit cut sharper than any sword, once said: “I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it.” Beneath its humor lies a lesson carved in the bedrock of human wisdom—a warning against foolish conflict, against lowering oneself into battles unworthy of one’s spirit. Shaw, with his gift for satire, teaches that there are struggles which, no matter the outcome, diminish both victor and vanquished. To wrestle with a pig is to waste your strength in mud, where truth and dignity drown in filth.

The pig in Shaw’s parable is not the animal of the field, but the spirit of ignorance, malice, or pettiness that dwells in some men. Such a one delights in chaos, thrives on quarrels, and finds pleasure in pulling others down into his mire. To engage with such a person—to argue with the dishonest, the envious, or the cruel—is to step willingly into their world, where no logic or virtue can prevail. The wise, therefore, must discern when to fight and when to walk away, for some battles are not tests of courage, but traps for the soul.

Shaw himself lived among critics and cynics, men who mocked both genius and sincerity. In his time, he faced ridicule for his bold plays and his fiery opinions on politics and morality. Yet rather than spar with every detractor, he learned the art of detachment. To argue endlessly with the small-minded, he realized, was like wrestling with pigs—they enjoy the struggle because it feeds their baser instincts, while the wise emerge only covered in their mud. Thus he turned to his pen, answering not with anger but with creation—and in doing so, he rose far above those who sought to drag him down.

The ancients too spoke of this wisdom. Confucius taught, “Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you will be like him yourself.” The Stoics of Greece and Rome echoed this truth: that to engage with the wicked or the foolish on their terms is to surrender the mastery of one’s own mind. The philosopher Epictetus warned that insults lose their sting when ignored, for they strike not the body, but the ego—and the ego is wounded only if we allow it. In every age, the wise have known that dignity is preserved not by victory in petty quarrels, but by the refusal to enter them.

Consider the example of Abraham Lincoln, who faced constant slander during his leadership. His rivals called him crude, unlearned, even unworthy of office. Yet Lincoln rarely stooped to answer such attacks. “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool,” he once said, “than to speak and remove all doubt.” His restraint became his armor, his composure his crown. By refusing to wrestle with pigs, he kept his honor clean and his focus sharp, and through that calm resolve, he carried a divided nation toward freedom.

To get dirty in Shaw’s saying is more than to soil one’s hands—it is to lose peace, to let anger and pride drag one into the muck of fruitless strife. When you argue with the malicious, you lend them power; when you trade insults, you become part of the ugliness you despise. And because “the pig likes it,” you can never win—for the fool rejoices in the conflict, while the wise man longs only for peace. Thus the battle itself is defeat. The only true victory is to rise above it—to leave the mud unstained and walk away with silence as your shield.

Let this be your lesson, seeker of wisdom: not every battle deserves your strength. Choose your conflicts as a warrior chooses his field—with purpose, not impulse. When provoked by ignorance, answer with grace; when baited by cruelty, answer with stillness. Do not wrestle with those who live for quarrels—they will drag you to their level and triumph in your loss of calm. Instead, rise higher, as the eagle ignores the crows that chatter below.

And so, remember Shaw’s wisdom: to preserve your clarity, your dignity, your peace, never wrestle with a pig. For the mud is not your home, and the struggle is not your destiny. Speak with action, not anger; answer with excellence, not argument. In this way, you remain clean, untarnished, and free—walking the higher path where no pig can follow.