"War is a beastly business, it is true, but one proof we are human is our ability to learn, even from it, how better to exist"
About this Quote
Fisher takes the ugliest human project and refuses both of its easy consolations: glamor and despair. "War is a beastly business" lands with the plain-spoken disgust of someone who won’t aestheticize suffering. Then she pivots, not to patriotism or redemption, but to a cooler, more unsettling claim: that our humanity is measurable by what we can extract from catastrophe.
The sentence is engineered like a moral stress test. "It is true" functions as a little brake on rhetoric, a writer’s insistence on accuracy before meaning. The real charge sits in "one proof we are human": Fisher is wary of grand declarations about human nature, so she offers a small, defensible metric. Not that humans are good, but that humans can learn. That’s a low bar, and that’s the point. In wartime, idealism collapses; survival becomes logistics. Fisher’s subtext is that ethics, too, becomes logistics: how to exist with fewer illusions and more care.
Coming from a food and cultural writer who lived through the world wars and wrote about appetite, scarcity, and daily life, the line reads like a domestic rebuke to martial myth. War rearranges what matters: bread lines, letters, communal meals, private grief. "How better to exist" isn’t triumphalist; it’s a modest, almost culinary phrase, about method rather than purity. Fisher implies that the only honest "lesson" war offers is a sharper attention to living - to bodies, needs, and the fragile practices that make a life civil.
The sentence is engineered like a moral stress test. "It is true" functions as a little brake on rhetoric, a writer’s insistence on accuracy before meaning. The real charge sits in "one proof we are human": Fisher is wary of grand declarations about human nature, so she offers a small, defensible metric. Not that humans are good, but that humans can learn. That’s a low bar, and that’s the point. In wartime, idealism collapses; survival becomes logistics. Fisher’s subtext is that ethics, too, becomes logistics: how to exist with fewer illusions and more care.
Coming from a food and cultural writer who lived through the world wars and wrote about appetite, scarcity, and daily life, the line reads like a domestic rebuke to martial myth. War rearranges what matters: bread lines, letters, communal meals, private grief. "How better to exist" isn’t triumphalist; it’s a modest, almost culinary phrase, about method rather than purity. Fisher implies that the only honest "lesson" war offers is a sharper attention to living - to bodies, needs, and the fragile practices that make a life civil.
Quote Details
| Topic | War |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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