Societies need heroes. So we travel to places where the

Hear the fierce and solemn words of David Gemmell, bard of battles and teller of legends: “Societies need heroes. So we travel to places where the revisionists cannot dismantle the great.” In these words lies both lament and defiance—a cry against the erosion of memory, and a call to honor those whose courage lit the path before us. For Gemmell knew that without heroes, a people lose their compass; without remembrance, they drift like ships unmoored.

To say that societies need heroes is to affirm that the human spirit hungers for examples greater than itself. Heroes embody what we aspire to be: brave when we are fearful, steadfast when we falter, selfless when we are tempted by selfishness. They are not perfect, but they remind us of the heights to which the soul can climb. In their stories, we find not only entertainment, but guidance, the flame of inspiration passed from one generation to the next.

Yet Gemmell warns of the revisionists, those who dismantle the great, tearing down the pillars of the past in the name of cynicism or correction. History is never without stain, and men of valor are never without fault. But to erase them entirely, to strip them of their heroism, is to leave only shadows where once there was light. He calls us instead to travel to places beyond such erasure—into the timeless realms of myth, legend, and memory, where greatness is remembered not for flawlessness but for the courage that endures beyond flaw.

History offers us examples of this truth. Consider Leonidas at Thermopylae, who with three hundred Spartans stood against the might of Persia. Though history has dissected Sparta’s harshness and flaws, still his stand remains a beacon of defiance, a reminder that even a small band can hold back an empire for the sake of freedom. Or think of Joan of Arc, a peasant girl turned warrior-saint. Some call her deluded, others saintly, but none can deny that her courage changed the fate of nations. These are the figures Gemmell speaks of—those whom we must protect from the corrosive hand of forgetfulness.

The emotional power of his words lies in their defiance against despair. In every age, voices rise to say there are no heroes, that all greatness is illusion. But to deny heroes is to deny hope itself. For though men and women are frail, though every saint carries shadows, their acts of courage remain, shining through history like stars through the night. The stars are not less bright for being far away, nor are heroes less great for being human.

The lesson for us is radiant: guard the memory of the great. Do not allow cynicism to strip away what inspires. Acknowledge flaws, yes, but do not let them overshadow the deeds that lifted humanity. Teach your children of courage, sacrifice, and honor, so that they too may learn to rise when the world demands it. For a society that forgets its heroes condemns itself to mediocrity, while one that remembers them carries the fire of greatness forward.

Practical wisdom follows: seek out the stories of heroes, both ancient and near. Read of their deeds, tell their tales, visit the places where they lived and stood. When doubt and despair creep in, remind yourself of their courage. And when you see ordinary people around you acting with extraordinary bravery, honor them as heroes too. For heroes are not only in legend; they walk among us, and their memory must be preserved.

So let Gemmell’s words endure: “Societies need heroes. So we travel to places where the revisionists cannot dismantle the great.” May we remember always that greatness is not the absence of flaw, but the presence of courage. And may we defend the memory of heroes, for in their light we find the strength to rise, to endure, and to believe that humanity, too, can be great.