We are all full of weakness and errors; let us mutually pardon

Voltaire, the sage of the Enlightenment, once declared: “We are all full of weakness and errors; let us mutually pardon each other our follies—it is the first law of nature.” In this sentence, he speaks with both humility and grandeur, offering a truth that binds humanity together. He does not flatter man with illusions of perfection; instead, he names us plainly: creatures of weakness and error. Yet in this confession, he does not call for despair, but for mercy. If frailty is universal, then forgiveness must be universal too, for it is the only law that sustains peace among the fallible.

The origin of this quote lies in Voltaire’s lifelong battle against intolerance, cruelty, and fanaticism. Living in an age scarred by religious wars, political injustice, and the ceaseless pride of men, he sought to remind his generation that judgment and vengeance only multiply suffering. In his essays, letters, and tales, he championed tolerance as the highest virtue. To pardon the follies of others, he argued, is not weakness but recognition of our shared human condition. Thus he calls it the first law of nature—the foundation upon which civilization itself must stand.

History bears this lesson in its most enduring figures. Consider Nelson Mandela, who, after spending twenty-seven years imprisoned, walked free not with bitterness but with forgiveness. When he might have sought vengeance, he chose reconciliation. In pardoning the follies of his oppressors, he did not excuse them, but transcended them. It was this act of mutual pardon that allowed a wounded nation to step away from the abyss of civil war. Mandela’s greatness lies not in conquering with arms, but in conquering with mercy, embodying exactly what Voltaire declared centuries earlier.

The meaning here is both emotional and heroic. To forgive is not to deny justice, but to rise above the endless cycle of blame. For if every man demands vengeance for every slight, then life becomes an eternal battlefield. But when we forgive, we disarm not only the other, but ourselves. Pardon is liberation. It frees the giver from bitterness and the receiver from despair. In this way, forgiveness is not only kindness; it is survival, the primal glue of community.

Yet Voltaire’s words also carry warning. If we refuse to follow this first law of nature—if we cling to blame, if we refuse to forgive—then we tear apart the very fabric of society. Pride isolates, anger corrodes, and vengeance consumes. Empires fall not only to armies, but to the poison of unforgiven wrongs festering within. Thus he speaks with urgency: let us mutually pardon each other, for we all stumble; let us temper judgment with mercy, for tomorrow we may need the same mercy from others.

The lesson for us is clear: cultivate the habit of forgiveness. Begin with those nearest to you—family, friends, neighbors—for it is in these daily pardons that the law of nature takes root. Do not wait for apologies that may never come. Instead, choose release, and in releasing others, release yourself. In the workplace, in the community, in the home, remember Voltaire’s words: we are all full of errors. To demand perfection is folly; to forgive is wisdom.

Practically, this means practicing self-awareness and compassion. When anger rises, remind yourself: “I too am frail. I too have erred.” Let that recognition soften the heart. Speak words of pardon, even if your pride resists. Forgive yourself as well, for often the harshest jailor is within. In doing so, you embody not only Voltaire’s wisdom but the eternal rhythm of life itself—a rhythm where weakness meets mercy, and error is transformed by forgiveness.

Thus, Voltaire’s teaching endures: forgiveness is not the exception, but the rule—the first law of nature. To live without it is to live in chains; to embrace it is to walk in freedom. Let us, then, as brothers and sisters in frailty, pardon each other’s follies, and in doing so, rise to the highest pitch of humanity.