The State thrives on war - unless, of course, it is defeated and

The economist and philosopher Murray Rothbard once thundered with clarity: “The State thrives on war—unless, of course, it is defeated and crushed—expands on it, glories in it.” These words are not the idle musings of a recluse, but the sharp blade of one who saw through the masks of power. He declared that war is the lifeblood of the State, the engine by which governments magnify themselves, demanding loyalty, seizing wealth, and commanding obedience. For when war arises, fear binds the people, and rulers use that fear to grow strong. The State fattens itself on sacrifice, while its people grow thin with suffering.

This teaching echoes the wisdom of the ancients. For it was long known that kings and emperors used the cry of war to forge unity where none existed, to demand tribute where none was owed, and to justify power where it had no rightful claim. When Rothbard speaks of the State “glorying” in war, he unmasks its hypocrisy. For war, which devours sons and lays waste to cities, is cloaked in banners and hymns so that the people may see not blood, but honor. Yet beneath the robes of glory lies the iron cage of control.

Consider the story of the Roman Empire. Each new conquest was heralded as the triumph of civilization, each victory celebrated in parades of splendor. But in truth, war became the nourishment of the State: soldiers demanded pay, officials claimed spoils, emperors expanded their reach. Rome thrived on perpetual conflict, its leaders wielding war to command loyalty and crush dissent. Yet when the tide turned and Rome itself began to lose, the empire collapsed beneath the very weight of the wars that had once sustained it. Rothbard’s wisdom stands revealed: the State may live by war, but if defeated, it withers and dies.

This is not only Rome’s tale. Look to the 20th century, when nations girded themselves for two World Wars. In those years, governments expanded their powers far beyond peacetime limits. Taxes multiplied, liberties shrank, and citizens were bound into the service of the State. When the wars ended, much of that power remained, proving Rothbard’s point: the State does not only fight wars, it expands on them, growing stronger in their wake. War is the soil in which governments plant their deepest roots.

But let us not speak only of nations. The same truth applies to the struggles of the soul. For within each heart lies a small “state,” a ruling power of pride and fear. And when we wage wars of anger or ambition, that inner tyrant grows stronger. The more we glory in conflict, the more our pride expands, until it rules us as a master. Thus Rothbard’s teaching is not merely political but personal: beware of the wars you feed, for they may strengthen the tyrant within.

O children of tomorrow, hear this: the State thrives on war because war breeds fear, and fear gives rulers their chains. Do not be quick to glorify conflict, even when wrapped in noble words. Question the voices that call you to sacrifice in the name of power. And in your own life, resist the temptation to expand your strength through strife, for the victories of anger are hollow, and the empire of pride is built upon sand.

Practical wisdom follows: seek always to discern who profits from the wars around you. When leaders cry for battle, ask: Do they fight for the people, or for their own glory? In your personal life, when strife arises, ask: Does this conflict serve peace, or does it merely strengthen the chains of pride? Train yourself in patience, in vigilance, in the art of peace. For only by denying fuel to the fires of war can both nations and souls remain free.

Thus let Rothbard’s words endure: “The State thrives on war—expands on it, glories in it.” Take this as both warning and counsel. For the fate of nations and the fate of hearts alike are shaped not by the wars they wage, but by their ability to resist the intoxication of conflict, and to seek instead the enduring power of peace.