Polygamy is needed to prevent a man from taking up a lover, which

“Polygamy is needed to prevent a man from taking up a lover, which can cause health issues and rifts in the family and would lead him to live a lie, constantly deceiving his wife and children.” Thus spoke Ramzan Kadyrov, a modern ruler speaking on an ancient and controversial custom. His words echo through the corridors of history, where the structure of family and the laws of love have long been debated among scholars, priests, and kings. Yet beneath the surface of politics and custom lies a deeper current — one that touches the eternal question of honesty, loyalty, and the order of human desire. For though Kadyrov speaks of polygamy, his statement reaches beyond marriage itself, into the realm of truth, integrity, and the soul’s battle against hypocrisy.

In the days of the ancients, the union between man and woman was not merely personal — it was a sacred covenant woven into the fabric of society. To break it through deceit was to disturb the harmony of home and hearth. When Ramzan Kadyrov speaks of a man living a lie, he reveals the corruption that arises when the heart is divided — when outward appearances of virtue mask an inner betrayal. Whether one believes in polygamy or not, his words remind us of an eternal truth: that falsehood destroys more than it hides. When one lives in deception, pretending peace while sowing conflict, the spirit becomes fractured, and the home becomes a stage where love turns to performance.

In ancient times, different peoples sought different answers to the same human frailty. Among the patriarchs of the East, polygamy was a recognized path — not born from lust, but from law. Abraham, Jacob, and Solomon of old were said to have taken multiple wives, not as a defiance of morality, but as part of the social and divine order of their age. To them, it was not deceit but duty — an acknowledgment of man’s desires guided by structure rather than secrecy. Kadyrov’s defense of this tradition comes from that same lineage of reasoning: better a difficult truth declared than a comfortable lie concealed.

Yet across other lands and ages, different wisdom arose. The philosophers of the West, guided by reason and restraint, taught that virtue lies not in the permission of desire, but in its mastery. For them, courage was not to yield to impulse, but to refine it. To be faithful to one was not only a moral act but a spiritual discipline — the tempering of the passions through self-control. In this way, both paths, though divergent, sought the same end: the preservation of honor, family, and truth. The form may differ, but the foundation remains — that love must not be lived in lies.

To live truthfully, then, is the heart of Kadyrov’s message — though expressed through the lens of his own tradition. For when a man deceives those he loves, he divides himself. He becomes two: one who smiles, and one who hides. Over time, this duality poisons the spirit. The home becomes a house of silence, where trust erodes and affection fades. Whether through false words or false actions, deceit is the slow death of love. And in this, Kadyrov’s warning bears a timeless echo: that it is better to live openly in imperfection than secretly in dishonor.

Consider the tragic tale of King David, who, though beloved by God, once yielded to secret desire. His affair with Bathsheba brought chaos to his kingdom and sorrow to his house. What began as a moment of passion ended in betrayal, deceit, and bloodshed. Had he confronted his desire with truth — whether by restraint or by open declaration — the harmony of his life might have been preserved. Thus, from the scrolls of scripture to the speeches of rulers, one law remains unbroken: truth must reign in the heart, or ruin will reign in its place.

So let this be the lesson drawn from Kadyrov’s words, stripped of culture and controversy: that truth and integrity are the pillars of all human bonds. Whether one lives by the monogamous law of the West or the plural traditions of the East, let none live by deceit. If love is to endure, it must stand upon honesty. Let man and woman alike be courageous in truth, for only truth can bring peace to the home and health to the soul.

Thus, remember this: A lie may soothe for a moment, but truth heals for a lifetime. Whatever your path, live it openly. Do not build your happiness upon the pain of secrecy. Whether in love, in faith, or in art, let your life be whole — for divided hearts make broken homes. And as Ramzan Kadyrov reminds us, the greatest illness is not of the body, but of the spirit that has forgotten how to live honestly.