If we continue to develop our technology without wisdom or

Hearken, O children of tomorrow, to the grave warning of Omar N. Bradley, the soldier who beheld both the heroism and the horror of the modern battlefield. He declared: “If we continue to develop our technology without wisdom or prudence, our servant may prove to be our executioner.” These words, carved from the stone of war and sorrow, are not idle musings but a prophecy born of fire and steel. They tell us that the tools forged by man, once loyal, may turn against him if his heart is blind and his hand unguarded.

In ages past, the plow was fashioned to feed, the wheel to carry, the sword to defend. All these creations began as servants, obedient and humble. Yet when the sword was wielded without restraint, it became the reaper of civilizations. Technology, mighty though it be, is no neutral force; it magnifies both the wisdom and the folly of its master. Thus the general warned: without prudence, the hand that builds may also destroy, and the servant that labors for life may one day bring death.

Consider the tale of the atomic bomb, whose terrible dawn Bradley himself witnessed in his time. Born of the brightest minds, it was conceived to end a war swiftly, and indeed it struck Japan with a thunder that shook the soul of mankind. Yet with that flash, humanity stepped into a new age, where the very servant of science could, in an instant, annihilate not just armies but nations, not just cities but the earth itself. From that hour, mankind has lived under the shadow of his own invention, fearing the day when the executioner may awaken. Here lies the living truth of Bradley’s words.

History has shown us again and again that progress without virtue is peril. The industrial revolution brought forth engines of power, and with them, prosperity. Yet it also birthed pollution, exploitation, and the grinding of the poor beneath the wheels of profit. The machine, once servant, threatened to consume the dignity of the laborer. It is always thus: when technology advances swifter than our wisdom, imbalance arises, and ruin follows close behind.

And yet, let us not despair. For the lesson is not to halt invention, but to guide it with the twin reins of prudence and wisdom. The fire that burns can also warm, the sword that slays can also shield. The same atom that shattered Hiroshima may also power a city’s light. The servant is not evil by nature, but it must be ruled by a master who is just, self-controlled, and mindful of the whole. Without such governance, the servant grows wild, and the wild servant becomes the executioner.

Therefore, my child, learn this: let every tool you wield be governed first by conscience. Ask not only, “Can this be built?” but also, “Should this be built?” Let your heart weigh the cost before your hands craft the power. Be vigilant, for even the smallest device, once unleashed, may shape the fate of generations. The wise master does not fear technology, but he honors it as fire—never to be left unattended, never to be trusted without vigilance.

What then must you do in your life? Temper curiosity with humility. Embrace invention, but measure its fruits against justice and compassion. Use every servant of science for the uplifting of man, not his destruction. Guard against arrogance, for pride is the path by which the servant slips his bonds and dons the hood of the executioner. Let your works be guided not only by brilliance of mind but by clarity of soul.

Thus, let Bradley’s words echo through the halls of time: Without wisdom and prudence, the servant of technology will not remain our ally but will rise as our executioner. But with wisdom, with restraint, with a heart turned toward the good, mankind may yet walk in harmony with the tools he fashions, and turn them not into chains of death but into pillars of life. This is the path of balance, the path of guardianship, the path that leads not to ruin, but to enduring greatness.