Violence is one of the greatest taboos of the contemporary world. In liberal and democratic societies, it is regarded as a failure, something to be contained at all costs. Modern politics seeks to replace it with dialogue and institutions, imagining violence as primitive and undesirable.

This outlook stands in sharp contrast with the military sphere. For the soldier, violence is not an aberration but the very core of his profession. Training, doctrine, weaponry, and organization all exist to direct it against the enemy. The soldier must not only understand violence, he must have faith in it. This creates a tension between civilian sensibilities, which see violence as a problem, and the military ethos, which views it as a solution. In times of peace, this difference may be overlooked, but in war it becomes decisive, for no armed force survives without accepting violence as a legitimate instrument.

Classical thought had already recognized violence as a structural element of politics. Thucydides, in his account of the Peloponnesian War, showed that fear, interest, and honor prevail over abstract notions of justice. Machiavelli emphasized that preserving the state sometimes demands the calculated use of force. Clausewitz defined war as the continuation of politics by other means, an act of force intended to compel the enemy to do our will. Though writing in different contexts, these thinkers converge on the idea that violence is not an exception but one of the foundations of political action.

Modern strategic theory refines this understanding. For Colin S. Gray, the essence of strategy lies in linking means and ends. He defined strategy as “the direction and use of means by chosen ways to achieve desired ends,” with military strategy being the application of force, or the threat of it, in pursuit of political objectives. Max Weber, in turn, observed that the monopoly on the legitimate use of violence defines the modern state. Strategy, then, is not merely a matter of planning or technology; it is the conscious and adaptive use of organized violence as a political instrument. Unlike views that reduce war to moral or cultural failure, this perspective treats it as a structural and inevitable phenomenon.

To accept violence as an instrument does not mean to glorify it, but to recognize its limits and political functions. The effective strategist understands that force can impose rapid and decisive solutions, sparing societies from prolonged suffering. The military profession requires not only the technical ability to employ violence, but also the conviction that it works. The military ethos is built to reinforce this belief, channeling violence as duty rather than barbarism.

The rejection of violence undermines military effectiveness. Armed forces that hesitate or become overly bureaucratic, fearful of offending civilian sensitivities, risk projecting only a pacifist image. History shows armies defeated more by lack of conviction than by shortage of resources. The claim that violence never solves anything is illusory. Wars have settled disputes, coups have toppled regimes, and military operations have imposed agreements and reshaped realities. The Peace of Westphalia, the European balance of the nineteenth century, the post–World War II order, and nuclear deterrence all demonstrate that stability often rests on coercion.

Violence produces concrete effects, it destroys capabilities, alters behavior, and imposes limits. A naval blockade or the destruction of a command center has greater impact than dozens of diplomatic notes. States endure not only because of norms and values but because institutions exist that are willing to employ force in defense of their survival.

For the armed forces, this truth is even clearer, for their very purpose rests on the legitimate and effective use of violence. Societies desire peace and security, but these goods exist only because they have been won, maintained, or restored through violent means. Strategic thought must prepare for this reality, educating for the prudent use of force, not for its rejection.

A society that categorically refuses violence leaves itself defenseless before adversaries who do not share the same pacifist belief. The soldier need not take pleasure in violence, but he cannot hesitate to use it, for there are things that only force can protect.