Reasoned arguments and suggestions which make allowance for the

Hear then the words of Sir Stafford Cripps, whose utterance bore the weight of a nation’s trial. He spake thus: “Reasoned arguments and suggestions which make allowance for the full difficulties of the state of war that exists may help, and will always be listened to with respect and sympathy.” This saying, born in the crucible of the Second World War, is no idle counsel. It reminds the sons and daughters of men that in times of strife, where blood and iron contend, it is not only the sword that preserves a people, but also the voice of reason, the temperate word, the counsel that bends itself to reality rather than pride.

The meaning of these words is as deep as the wound of war itself. Cripps does not exalt empty speeches nor the vanity of those who would speak without knowledge. Instead, he exalts reasoned arguments—the calm thoughts shaped not by fantasy but by truth. And he demands that these arguments take into account the full difficulties of the state of war—that is, the hunger of the people, the weakness of supply, the endless toil of soldiers, the despair of families, and the cruel face of death. Words that do not reckon with these hardships are like chaff blown away by the wind; they cannot nourish, they cannot endure. But words forged in the furnace of hardship shall be heard with respect and sympathy, even by the most hardened of leaders.

Consider the tale of the Athenians and the Melians in the long struggle of the Peloponnesian War. The Melians sought to argue with lofty principles of justice, proclaiming their right to remain neutral, appealing to ideals rather than the cold reality of Spartan and Athenian might. Yet the Athenians, scorning reason that bent itself to circumstance, answered with harsh reality: “The strong do what they can, the weak suffer what they must.” The Melians would not temper their speech with practical wisdom, and thus their city was destroyed. Here is the living proof of Cripps’ words: those who counsel without regard to the real difficulties of war speak into the void, and their pleas find no echo.

And yet, not all is despair. For in other times, reasoned counsel did prevail. Think of Abraham Lincoln, beset on all sides by the fiery turmoil of civil war. Many cried for vengeance, others clamored for compromise. Yet Lincoln gave ear to voices that tempered their counsel with the bitter realities of battle. His Emancipation Proclamation, though a bold stroke, was not issued in haste. He waited until the Union had won at Antietam, for only then would the proclamation stand firm and find its power respected both at home and abroad. Here, the wisdom of weighing hardship and timing transformed a document from empty decree into a weapon of moral and political strength.

What then shall men and women learn from this? That speech must be tempered with reality. To give counsel in days of trial, one must not speak as if in a garden of ease, but as one who walks among ruins and hears the cries of the afflicted. Only then will leaders incline their ears, only then will words carry the fragrance of truth. For men respect not those who dream aloud, but those whose voices carry the weight of shared struggle.

Therefore, let each one who would speak—whether in war, in politics, in household quarrels, or in the contests of labor—first reckon with the true state of things. Consider what burdens your hearer bears, what storms surround them, what fears gnaw at their heart. Then shape your words with patience, with understanding, and with courage.

Take this as your practical action: when you seek to persuade, do not argue only from your own desire. Look instead with clear eyes at the hardship of others. Acknowledge their pain, their difficulty, their striving. In this way, your words will not be arrows of reproach, but lamps of guidance. And whether or not your counsel is taken, it will always be received with respect and sympathy, for it will bear the mark of wisdom.

Thus, as the ancients would say, let reason walk hand in hand with compassion, and let truth bow to the weight of circumstance. For in war as in peace, it is not only strength of arms, but strength of understanding, that carries nations and souls through the darkest nights.