In a war, you must hate somebody or love somebody; you must have

The words of Robert Capa — “In a war, you must hate somebody or love somebody; you must have a position or you cannot stand what goes on.” — are not the idle musings of a thinker in comfort, but the confession of a man who walked in the smoke of battle with a camera in his hands instead of a rifle. Capa, the great war photographer, knew that the human heart cannot endure the chaos of war without anchoring itself to some fierce emotion. Neutrality in the midst of fire is not merely difficult; it is impossible. To survive the sight of blood and ruin, one must hold fast either to the fire of hate or to the light of love.

What does it mean to “have a position”? It means that in the face of unimaginable horror, the soul cannot drift aimlessly. War strips away indifference. When the world collapses into noise, dust, and death, only the clarity of allegiance sustains the spirit. Some cling to hate, directing their anguish against the enemy who rains destruction upon their homes. Others cling to love, holding tight to their comrades, their families, their homeland, or even the very idea of peace itself. Without such a root, the storms of war would tear the soul apart.

Capa himself bore witness to this truth on the beaches of Normandy, where he landed with the soldiers on D-Day in 1944. Amid bullets and crashing waves, he photographed men charging forward, many never to rise again. What drove those soldiers? Was it hatred of the oppressor who had darkened Europe? Was it love for their brothers beside them, for the families awaiting liberation, for the hope of a freer world? Likely both. Without such emotions, how could any man have endured the shriek of shells, the bodies strewn across the sand, the ocean stained with blood? Indifference would have drowned them before the waves did.

History abounds with such lessons. In the Peloponnesian War, Thucydides tells us of men who slaughtered and were slaughtered not for coin alone, but because they were consumed by a passion — either for vengeance or for the safety of their kin. Even the ancients knew that once war begins, no man can be untouched. Those who pretend neutrality are swallowed by despair, for the battlefield does not grant them shelter. Only by choosing — by hating what must be destroyed or loving what must be preserved — can one endure.

But we must be cautious in how we wield hate and love. Hate may give strength in the moment, but it burns the vessel that carries it. Love, however, builds endurance. The mother who waits for her son, the soldier who fights for his comrade’s life, the healer who binds wounds because she cherishes the living — these embody a position that can withstand the storm without losing the soul. To hate blindly is to consume oneself; to love wisely is to transcend the madness.

The lesson for us is profound: in every struggle, whether of nations or of daily life, we must take a stand. When the world shakes and the air fills with confusion, do not remain lukewarm. Choose what you will love, or if you must, what you will oppose with righteous anger. Only then can your spirit bear the weight of conflict without breaking. Capa’s words are not only for soldiers in the trenches, but for all who live in a world that constantly wages smaller wars — wars of truth against lies, of justice against oppression, of hope against despair.

So let us act: choose your position, anchor your heart. If you fight, let it be for love first, for love builds bridges even in ruins. But if hate must rise in you, let it be only against injustice, against cruelty, against the darkness that devours. Do not float aimlessly in the storm; plant your feet in the soil of conviction. For as Robert Capa taught us, without a position, without love or hate, you will not endure what life demands of you. And endurance, children of tomorrow, is the secret by which the soul survives the wars of every age.