War is wretched beyond description, and only a fool or a fraud

The warrior and statesman John McCain, who bore in his flesh the scars of captivity, spoke with searing honesty when he declared: “War is wretched beyond description, and only a fool or a fraud could sentimentalize its cruel reality.” These are not the words of one who looked upon war from a safe distance, but of one who suffered its weight in prison cells and battlefields. His voice rises not in glory, but in warning: never clothe war in false beauty, never adorn it with the ornaments of romance, for at its core, war is misery, death, and broken humanity.

McCain’s insight is born from experience. As a young naval aviator during the Vietnam conflict, he was shot down, captured, and held prisoner for more than five years in the infamous “Hanoi Hilton.” There he endured beatings, starvation, and isolation, and saw fellow soldiers broken by pain. To him, the reality of war was not banners waving or trumpets sounding, but the slow agony of men in chains, the grief of families awaiting loved ones who never returned, the endless ache of sacrifice demanded again and again. Such a man cannot sentimentalize war, for he has seen its truest face.

History itself confirms his truth. Recall the trenches of World War I, where poets first went to battle with dreams of heroism, only to return with poems of mud, rats, and the stench of death. “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori”—the old Latin line, “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country”—was unmasked by men like Wilfred Owen as “the old lie.” McCain’s words carry the same spirit: the glory of war is often a mask for its wretched cruelty, and those who adorn it with false beauty deceive both themselves and others.

And yet, McCain does not deny that war is sometimes necessary. His life, his service, his choices testify that he understood the call of duty and the defense of freedom. But he warns that necessity must not be confused with romance. War may at times be unavoidable, but it is never noble in its essence. Its nobility lies only in the courage of those who endure it, not in the slaughter itself. To glorify war is to betray those who suffer under it. To face its truth is to honor their sacrifice honestly.

The deeper meaning of McCain’s words is this: human beings must guard their conscience against the temptation of false stories. Leaders may use patriotic songs or stirring speeches to make war seem clean, swift, or inevitable. But the wise know to look past the rhetoric to the graves, the widows, the orphans, and the maimed. To see war clearly is not to reject duty, but to carry it with solemn weight, never forgetting that the cost is measured in human lives.

This lesson is not only for nations but for each of us. In our own struggles, whether personal or communal, we are tempted to dress conflict in noble garments, to justify anger, vengeance, or cruelty as if they were heroic. But McCain’s voice calls us back to truth: conflict always wounds, and those who glorify it are blind. Better to approach strife with honesty, humility, and the desire for peace, than to deceive ourselves with illusions of grandeur.

Therefore, let this wisdom endure: do not be the fool who sentimentalizes war, nor the fraud who profits from it. Face the reality of conflict with clear eyes, honor those who suffer its burdens, and work always for peace. And when war or conflict cannot be avoided, enter it not with songs of glory, but with the sober resolve of one who knows its cost. For only in this way can we walk the path of truth, and ensure that sacrifice is honored, not exploited, by the generations yet to come.