Virtually every society that survived did so by socializing its

Hear the stark and unsettling words of Warren Farrell: “Virtually every society that survived did so by socializing its sons to be disposable. Disposable in war; disposable in work. We need warriors and volunteer firefighters, so we label these men heroes.” These words pierce like a blade into the heart of civilization, for they reveal an ancient truth, one too often veiled by ceremony and song. Societies, to endure, have asked their sons to risk their lives in war, to break their bodies in work, and to accept the title of hero as compensation for their disposability. Farrell does not scorn the hero’s courage, but he unmasks the harsh reality beneath the honor: that survival has long been purchased with the sacrifice of men.

The origin of this thought comes from Farrell’s work as a scholar of gender and social roles, examining not only the burdens placed upon women but also those placed upon men. He looked across history and saw that while men often held positions of visible power, they were also the ones cast into battlefields, mines, and flames. From the Spartan boy raised to fight, to the industrial laborer crushed beneath machines, societies have relied upon the expendability of men to preserve the whole. The label of hero both elevates and disguises this reality, making glory the balm for sacrifice.

The ancients, too, knew this pattern well. Consider the warriors of Sparta, taken from their mothers at seven years old, trained to endure hunger, pain, and death without complaint. Their lives were not their own—they belonged to the city. To be disposable in war was their highest calling, and the state celebrated them as noble, as eternal guardians of Greek glory. Yet behind the triumphal songs lay the truth: their value was measured by their readiness to die. Farrell’s words echo across the centuries, reminding us that the survival of Sparta, and of many others, was bought with the blood of its sons.

History also gives us the story of the coal miners of the Industrial Revolution. These men descended into the earth, day after day, risking collapse, explosion, and suffocation. Their reward was meager pay, their lives often short, their bodies broken. Yet society praised them as hardworking and noble, the backbone of progress. Here, too, we see Farrell’s meaning: that men were trained to accept being disposable in work, and society sanctified this with honorifics that soothed but did not save them.

The meaning of Farrell’s words is therefore twofold. First, he unmasks the cost of civilization, showing that survival and progress have long depended on shaping men to embrace sacrifice. Second, he challenges us to reflect: is it enough to call them heroes, or should we labor to build a society where fewer must be disposable at all? His insight does not diminish the courage of the soldier or the firefighter, but it compels us to recognize that their courage is often demanded not by choice but by the structures of society itself.

What lesson, then, shall we carry? That honor must not blind us to the burdens we place upon others. If men are called to sacrifice, let us not only praise them but also ask if such sacrifice is truly necessary. Let us build safer workplaces, prevent needless wars, and ensure that risk is chosen, not imposed. And let us extend our reverence not only in words but in action—caring for those who return wounded, supporting the families of those who fall, and reimagining systems so that fewer lives must be spent like coin.

Therefore, children of the future, engrave this wisdom upon your hearts: do not accept disposability as destiny. Honor the warrior, but strive for peace so that fewer are needed. Praise the laborer, but strive for safety so that fewer are crushed. Celebrate the firefighter, but strive for prevention so that fewer must burn. For the true greatness of a society is not in how it glorifies sacrifice, but in how it lessens the need for sacrifice. In this, Farrell’s words are both a warning and a call—to build a civilization where men and women alike are valued not for their disposability, but for their humanity.