The first requirement of politics is not intellect or stamina

Hear the words of John Major, once Prime Minister of Britain, who, having walked through the storms of power and the intrigues of governance, declared: “The first requirement of politics is not intellect or stamina but patience. Politics is a very long run game and the tortoise will usually beat the hare.” These are not idle words, but the distilled wisdom of one who has seen the mighty rise and fall, and who knows that in the realm of politics, quick brilliance is often outlasted by steady endurance.

The origin of this saying lies in Major’s own journey. Born not into privilege but into hardship, he rose through persistence, step by step, until he stood at the helm of a nation. His life itself was the parable of the tortoise—slow, determined, unglamorous, yet unwavering. He knew by experience that patience is the greatest weapon in political life, for the game is not won in days or weeks but in years, sometimes in decades. The hare dazzles, but the tortoise endures; and endurance, in the long run, is the true measure of strength.

This truth was known to the ancients as well. Recall the story of Cincinnatus, the Roman farmer called to lead his people in time of crisis. He did not rush or boast, but with steady resolve he led Rome to victory, then quietly returned to his plow. His patience, his refusal to be consumed by the fever of power, made him a figure of lasting honor. Contrast this with men of haste—leaders who burn brightly in a moment, but whose lack of patience destroys them and their nations. The lesson is the same across ages: in the long game of governance, it is the patient hand that shapes destiny.

History gives us another image in the life of Winston Churchill. For years he was cast aside, mocked, and silenced. Many hares ran ahead of him in the race of politics, yet he endured, warning against dangers others ignored. When the hour of Britain’s trial came in the Second World War, it was his patience through years of obscurity that prepared him to rise as leader in the nation’s darkest hour. Had he been a man of quick flame, he would have been extinguished long before that time. But like the tortoise, he endured until the finish line mattered.

The heart of Major’s wisdom is that politics is not a sprint but a marathon of time and will. Intellect can dazzle in speeches, stamina can impress in campaigns, but only patience allows one to weather defeats, betrayals, and long seasons of waiting. The impatient seek quick victories and often destroy themselves in the process. The patient endure setbacks without despair, victories without arrogance, and time itself becomes their ally. In this way, the tortoise, steady and enduring, overtakes the hare who exhausts himself in bursts of pride.

For us, the lesson is clear: whether in politics, in work, or in the battles of daily life, cultivate patience above all. Do not be seduced by the glitter of quick success or dismayed by the shadows of delay. Trust in slow and steady labor, in discipline, in the willingness to wait. Build foundations that last, rather than castles of haste that crumble. In your own life, remember that the greatest victories are rarely instant; they belong to those who endure.

So I say to you, children of tomorrow: be not hares, frantic and fleeting, but tortoises, steadfast and enduring. Do not despise the long road, for it is the surest road. Do not surrender to weariness, for patience is the true strength of kings and leaders. As John Major has taught, and as history affirms, in the long run of life and politics alike, it is not brilliance, nor raw power, but the steady heart that endures—and in the end, it is patience that conquers all.