It is humiliating to remain with our hands folded while others

In the words of Benito Mussolini, “It is humiliating to remain with our hands folded while others write history. It matters little who wins. To make a people great it is necessary to send them to battle even if you have to kick them in the pants. That is what I shall do.” These words burn with the fire of ambition, born in a time when nations were clawing their way toward glory and power. Though their tone is fierce, almost reckless, they speak of an idea that has haunted humanity for centuries — the desire to shape history, to refuse passivity, to act, even at the cost of suffering. Within them lies both a warning and a lesson: that the yearning for greatness, when unbalanced by wisdom, becomes hubris, and that the hunger to write history can consume those who chase it too blindly.

The origin of this quote lies in Mussolini’s rise to power in early twentieth-century Italy, when his nation stood weary and divided after the First World War. Italy, though on the victorious side, felt forgotten and humiliated in the peace that followed — its sacrifices unrewarded, its pride wounded. Mussolini, once a journalist and socialist, turned nationalist and fashioned himself a new identity: the Duce, the leader who would awaken a demoralized people. This quote captures the essence of his early rhetoric, when he called upon Italians to cast aside their hesitation and seize destiny by force. He believed that action, not reflection, made greatness, and that struggle itself was a purifier of the human spirit. His words, therefore, are both the cry of a patriot and the prelude to a tragedy.

When Mussolini said it was “humiliating to remain with our hands folded while others write history,” he was touching upon a universal human emotion — the fear of being forgotten, of living in the shadow of others’ achievements. Nations, like individuals, crave significance; they long to see their stories inscribed in the chronicles of time. Yet the danger of this desire is clear: when the hunger to matter outweighs the wisdom to discern right from wrong, the hands that might have built can instead destroy. Mussolini’s words reveal a truth about the restless human heart — that we are often more afraid of obscurity than of failure, and more drawn to action than to reflection.

This belief — that conflict ennobles and struggle defines greatness — has appeared many times throughout history. One need only remember Napoleon Bonaparte, who rose from the fires of revolution preaching similar ideals of national glory and destiny. Like Mussolini, he too believed that greatness required risk and that nations asleep in peace would decay in spirit. His victories reshaped Europe, yet his pride led to ruin. The Romans of old, too, marched by this creed, believing that empire was proof of virtue. But the same empire that conquered the world eventually fell to its own ambition. And thus, from age to age, humanity repeats the same lesson — that greatness without justice leads to ashes, and that no victory endures when born of arrogance.

Yet in this quote, we also glimpse something deeply human: the yearning to act, to participate in the making of history. There is nobility in the refusal to remain idle. The great teachers of old — from Aristotle to Confucius — spoke of the balance between contemplation and action. A people who never move, who never strive, sink into decay. But a people who move without wisdom, who act without conscience, destroy what they hoped to build. The true challenge, then, is not whether we act, but why we act — not whether we write history, but what kind of history we choose to write.

The lesson, my children, is not to silence the fire within, but to temper it with understanding. It is not humiliating to be still if one waits for the right moment to strike. It is not shameful to choose peace if peace is righteous. But it is folly to march to battle without cause, to seek greatness only through struggle. The wise do not wait idly while others write the story of their age, but neither do they fight simply to be remembered. They act from principle, not pride; from service, not ego. True greatness is not found in conquest, but in creation — in the building of truth, beauty, and justice that outlasts all empires.

So, learn from Mussolini’s passion, but also from his fall. Let his words remind you of the double edge of ambition — that the same fire that lights the forge can also burn the house. Do not let the fear of being forgotten drive you to folly. Instead, write history with wisdom and with mercy. Let your name endure not for the battles you wage, but for the lives you uplift. For the pages of time are filled with the deeds of conquerors, but it is the builders, the healers, and the just whose legacy remains eternal.