People were already beginning to forget, what horrible suffering
People were already beginning to forget, what horrible suffering the war had brought them. I did not want to cause fear and panic, but to let people know how dreadful war is and so to stimulate people's powers of resistance.
"People were already beginning to forget, what horrible suffering the war had brought them. I did not want to cause fear and panic, but to let people know how dreadful war is and so to stimulate people's powers of resistance." These words, spoken by the German artist Otto Dix, reveal a profound and painful truth about the human condition after war. Dix, who experienced the horrors of World War I firsthand, witnessed the suffering not just in the trenches but in the hearts and minds of those who survived. His art became his weapon of resistance—his way of ensuring that the memories of war and its toll would never be forgotten. He knew that, over time, people would be lulled into complacency, forgetting the true devastation of war, and he felt an urgent need to wake them from their slumber.
O children of the future, understand this deeply: war is a force that does not just ravage the land, but scars the soul. It leaves behind not only the broken bodies of the fallen but also the broken spirits of the survivors. The desire to forget the pain of war is natural, for who would willingly dwell on the horrors of such an ordeal? Yet Dix's words remind us of the danger in forgetting. If we forget the suffering that war causes, we risk repeating its horrors. If we move on too quickly, without reflection or acknowledgment, we fail to learn the lessons that war has to teach us—lessons that must be remembered so that we may avoid the same suffering in the future.
Consider, O children, the ancient example of Homer's Iliad, which captures the immense grief and sorrow of the Trojan War. The poem is filled not just with tales of glory and honor, but with the suffering of those who fought. Achilles, the greatest of the Greek heroes, is driven by rage and revenge, but even his victories cannot quell the pain that war has inflicted on him and his people. The deaths of his friends, the destruction of his homeland, and the suffering of the Trojans leave him a broken man. Homer does not allow us to forget the horrors of war, and in doing so, he teaches us that war is not a source of pride, but a source of great sorrow. Just as Dix sought to remind the people of his time of the pain of World War I, Homer sought to keep the memory of war’s toll alive for future generations.
In the 20th century, World War II brought devastation on an even greater scale. Nations across Europe and the Pacific were torn apart, millions of lives lost, and entire cultures left in ruin. Yet, after the war, there was a desire to move on, to rebuild and to forget the depths of human suffering that had been experienced. Many, including political leaders and citizens alike, sought to leave the horrors of war behind them, focusing instead on reconstruction, progress, and economic recovery. However, this desire to forget did not change the reality that war had caused irreversible damage to lives, families, and nations. Dix, much like the historians and artists of past generations, saw the necessity of remembering and of bearing witness to the scars of war, for it is only through memory and reflection that the world can hope to break the cycle of violence.
Dix's art, which often depicted the grotesque reality of war, was a deliberate attempt to counter the cultural amnesia that often follows times of great conflict. Through his paintings and drawings, he sought to expose the brutality, the suffering, and the psychological scars of those who had lived through war. Dix did not want to fuel fear or cause unnecessary panic, but he understood that the only way to prevent future wars was to stimulate the resistance—not only against the forces of aggression but against the tendency to forget the price of war. His work was a call to action, a reminder that we must remember the suffering if we are to create a future where such horrors are not repeated.
The lesson here, O children, is one that must resonate across generations: memory is not just a means of recalling the past, but a means of learning from it. To forget the suffering of war is to risk walking blindly into the next conflict. To face war without acknowledging its true cost is to dishonor the sacrifices made by those who have come before us. Let us honor their memory by carrying the lessons of the past into the future. Let us remember the faces of the fallen, the pain of the survivors, and the endless toll that war takes on the human spirit. And in that remembrance, let us find the strength to resist the forces that seek to lead us down the same path.
So, let Dix's words and his art serve as a guide for you, O children. As you grow and face the challenges of your own time, remember that war is not a thing of the past—it is a lesson for the future. Do not allow the passage of time to dull your sense of the horror and suffering it brings. Honor the past by carrying its memory into the future, using the power of that memory to resist the forces that would once again plunge the world into the madness of war. Let the pain of the past become the strength of your resistance, and let the peace you build be the legacy of those who have suffered before you.
TVNguyen Truong Viet
Dix’s reflection on how people begin to forget the suffering of war speaks to the natural human tendency to move on from trauma. Yet, he emphasizes the importance of keeping the reality of war in the collective conscience to inspire resistance. How do we ensure that the lessons of war stick with society long enough to prevent future conflicts? Can the memory of war’s horrors be used as a tool for peace without causing unnecessary panic?
HVNguyen Thi Ha Vi
Otto Dix’s quote underscores the danger of forgetting the true cost of war. It seems crucial that we remember not just the sacrifices, but also the horrors that make war so destructive. Could educating future generations about these experiences, perhaps through art, literature, or history lessons, be a way to prevent the repetition of past mistakes? How can we preserve the memory of war’s pain without it overwhelming us with fear?
MKTruong THCS Nguyen Thi Minh Khai
Dix’s words bring attention to the tendency of societies to forget the true impact of war once the immediate danger is over. Is it possible to remember the suffering of war in a way that prevents future conflict without living in fear? I wonder how we can stimulate resistance to war without resorting to panic. How do we strike a balance between awareness and fear, especially when people are so eager to forget the past?
(HNguyen Thuy Duong (FPL HN)
I find Dix’s point about the fading memory of war’s suffering to be deeply insightful. It’s easy to gloss over the past, but war leaves scars that should never be forgotten. How can we make sure that future generations fully understand the cost of war? Could art, like Dix’s own work, be one of the most effective ways to convey the true horror of conflict and encourage resistance to war?
HLHoa Le
Dix’s statement resonates with the idea that war’s true horrors can easily fade from collective memory over time. It’s concerning that people may forget the suffering war causes, and how important it is to keep those memories alive to prevent future conflicts. But how do we balance remembering the pain of war with the need to move forward as a society? Can we remember without letting fear and trauma dominate our lives?