They wrote in the old days that it is sweet and fitting to die

The words of Ernest Hemingway — “They wrote in the old days that it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country. But in modern war, there is nothing sweet nor fitting in your dying. You will die like a dog for no good reason.” — cut like a blade through the illusions of glory that once adorned the battlefield. He invokes the ancient Latin phrase Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, often repeated by poets and generals to stir the hearts of youth, and he tears away its mask. For Hemingway, who had witnessed the savagery of the First World War with his own eyes, there was no sweetness in the mud, no nobility in the gas-choked trenches. Only despair, confusion, and death without meaning.

In the old days, death in battle was wrapped in honor. The Spartan at Thermopylae, the Roman centurion at the front line, the medieval knight under his banner — all were praised as heroes whose blood nourished the soil of their nation. The poets wrote of valor, the storytellers enshrined their names. But in the modern war, fought with machines, artillery, and poison, the individual ceased to be a hero and became instead a statistic, a body torn apart without song or remembrance. In this transformation lies Hemingway’s bitterness: the soldier does not fall like a warrior of legend, but collapses like an animal abandoned in the dust.

The truth of his words was echoed by countless voices of his generation. Wilfred Owen, the young British poet, wrote of the “old lie” that it is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country. Owen, too, had seen men drown in gas, shiver in mud, and cry for their mothers in the cold darkness of the trenches. He died before the war’s end, and his testimony became a monument to all those who perished without fanfare, stripped of nobility. Hemingway, carrying the same scars, gave voice to the same condemnation: modern war devours men without honor.

Consider the Battle of the Somme in 1916. On the first day alone, over fifty thousand British soldiers were killed or wounded. They did not fall in duels of valor, nor in heroic charges, but under relentless machine-gun fire, mowed down as though they were stalks of wheat. Their deaths brought no swift victory, no meaningful gain. They died “like dogs for no good reason,” and the world awoke, horrified, to the price of modern mechanized war. Hemingway’s words are the echo of this awakening — the realization that industrial slaughter leaves no room for romantic illusions.

And yet, these words are not only a lament but also a warning. They tell us that whenever leaders or poets speak too easily of sacrifice, we must pause and question. For to glorify war is to deceive the young, to send them marching into death dressed in illusions. The ancient call to honor has power, but in an age of bombs and guns, it becomes a lie unless tempered with truth. The value of life must weigh more heavily than the rhetoric of glory.

The lesson is profound: do not mistake propaganda for honor, nor confuse the necessity of service with the sweetness of death. A nation may require defense, and courage may still be called for, but we must remember always that war is not noble; it is tragedy. To preserve peace is far greater than to romanticize death. The wise must speak honestly about the cost of conflict, lest new generations fall prey to the same illusions that shattered the old.

What then must we do? First, honor the fallen not by repeating old lies, but by building a world where fewer need to fall. Teach the young that valor lies not only on battlefields but also in the pursuit of justice, compassion, and truth. Stand against those who would glorify bloodshed for power’s sake. And when war must be fought, let it be fought with clear eyes, without illusion, and with the sacred aim of ending it swiftly.

Thus, Hemingway’s words remain a flame of warning passed down to us: in modern war, there is nothing sweet nor fitting in dying. Let us carry this truth in our hearts, that we may resist the seduction of false glory and instead labor for peace, dignity, and life. Only then do we honor both the living and the dead.