I started to make a study of the art of war and revolution and
I started to make a study of the art of war and revolution and, whilst abroad, underwent a course in military training. If there was to be guerrilla warfare, I wanted to be able to stand and fight with my people and to share the hazards of war with them.
Hear the fiery words of Nelson Mandela, who declared: “I started to make a study of the art of war and revolution and, whilst abroad, underwent a course in military training. If there was to be guerrilla warfare, I wanted to be able to stand and fight with my people and to share the hazards of war with them.” These are not the boasts of a conqueror, but the solemn oath of a servant of justice. They reveal the heart of a leader who did not seek safety while his people suffered, but chose instead to walk with them into danger, to shoulder their burdens, and to fight their battles alongside them.
The origin of this saying lies in the dark days of apartheid in South Africa, when an entire people were shackled by laws of oppression, denied dignity, and stripped of their land and rights. Mandela, once devoted to peaceful protest, came to see that the ruling power answered petitions not with compassion but with violence. The massacre at Sharpeville in 1960, where police opened fire on unarmed demonstrators, killing scores, convinced him that nonviolence alone would not break the chains of tyranny. Thus, he studied the art of war and revolution, preparing himself not to abandon peace but to wield force as a last and necessary instrument of liberation.
The meaning of his words is a testament to solidarity. A true leader does not send his people into battle while he remains behind in safety. Mandela sought training so that if war came, he would not stand apart but stand and fight with his people, sharing the hazards, enduring the risks, and proving that his cause was not mere rhetoric, but a vow sealed in courage. This is the essence of leadership: to endure the same hardships as those one calls to struggle, to drink from the same bitter cup, and to remain steadfast at the front, not the rear, of the march to freedom.
Consider the example of George Washington during the American Revolution. Though commander of armies, he endured the freezing winters at Valley Forge with his soldiers, sharing their hunger, their ragged clothes, and their uncertainty. He could have remained in comfort, but he chose to suffer beside them, and in doing so, inspired loyalty and courage. Mandela, too, embraced this ancient principle: that the heart of a people is strengthened when their leader bears the same pain and hazard.
Yet Mandela’s greatness was not only in preparing for battle, but in knowing when to lay aside the sword. For though he studied war and embraced the possibility of guerrilla struggle, his vision was not consumed by bloodshed. He longed for a South Africa where black and white could live as brothers, where reconciliation could replace vengeance. Thus his preparation for war was not a betrayal of peace, but a grim acknowledgment that freedom must sometimes be defended by force when no other path is left open. His wisdom lay in balancing courage for war with a vision for peace.
The lesson of these words is timeless: that to fight for justice is not to cling blindly to one method, but to be prepared for sacrifice, whether in peace or in battle. A leader must be willing to risk life and comfort for the sake of the people, and a people must recognize that true liberation requires courage, endurance, and unity. Mandela’s study of revolution was not an indulgence in violence, but a preparation to meet oppression on its own terms, to show his people that they were not alone in their peril.
What, then, must we do? We must remember that freedom is never free, that justice requires sacrifice, and that leadership demands solidarity. In our struggles—whether against oppression, injustice, or inequality—we must not shrink from preparation, nor ask of others what we will not endure ourselves. Each of us must be willing to “share the hazards” of the battles of our age, whether they be fought in courts, in communities, or in the quiet strength of daily resistance.
Therefore, let Mandela’s words echo as a charge to all generations: if there is to be hardship, let us face it together. If there is to be risk, let leaders stand in the front ranks. And if there is to be victory, let it be shared by all. For the spirit of Mandela teaches us that true greatness lies not in avoiding the struggle, but in standing shoulder to shoulder with one’s people, ready to endure whatever storms must come, until the dawn of freedom breaks.
TKMach Quang Tuan Khanh
I find this quote deeply revealing. It shows that Mandela’s greatness came not just from his ideals, but from his readiness to act. He was pragmatic enough to understand that freedom sometimes demands sacrifice. Still, I wonder if he ever questioned this path later in life—did he believe that studying war ultimately brought peace closer, or only prolonged the suffering?
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There’s an incredible sense of solidarity in this quote. Mandela didn’t want to lead from safety; he wanted to fight alongside his people. It makes me think about the kind of leadership that earns genuine respect—the kind that shares danger, not just glory. Do modern leaders still have that kind of courage and humility?
TLTuyet Le
This statement fascinates me because it shows Mandela’s complexity. He wasn’t naive about what liberation required. It’s easy to idealize him as a symbol of peace, but this reminds me he was also a strategist, willing to face the same risks as his comrades. I wonder how he reconciled the philosophy of nonviolence with the necessity of armed struggle.
VVVy Vy
I’m struck by the moral weight behind Mandela’s decision. Studying the art of war wasn’t about conquest but about survival and dignity. It raises a difficult question—when is violence justified in the fight against oppression? His words make me think about how leaders balance moral conviction with the brutal reality of achieving freedom.
VKNguyen Van Khanh
This quote reveals a side of Mandela that many people forget—his willingness to embrace armed resistance when all peaceful options were exhausted. It challenges the simplified image of him as purely a man of peace. I find it powerful that he didn’t see leadership as giving orders from afar, but as sharing danger with his people. What must it have felt like to prepare for war in the pursuit of justice?