Strength is a moral obligation

Georges Hebert, a pioneer of functional fitness and the ethic of preparing for "The Unknown and the Unknowable", articulated a powerful mantra "Be strong to be helpful." This principle arose
from his time as an officer in the French Navy.

While stationed near Martinique, a volcanic eruption devastated the town of St. Pierre. During the rescue effort, there was a stark difference
in people's abilities to aid others—some were robust and ready, while others were woefully unprepared. Many were saved, many more died. This experience led Hebert to devote his life to ensuring that, in times of crisis, more people would fall into the capable category.
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Hebert's aim wasn't about looking good or becoming an elite athlete. It was about being capable—ready to serve, respond, and save lives in a volatile world. Today, we live in an era of unprecedented peace and stability compared to the hardships of Hebert’s time, which included world wars, global depression, and widespread famine. While some modern fitness trends may claim to be preparing for apocalyptic scenarios, the truth is, you don’t want to live in the world Hebert was responding to.

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 In our abundant world, strength is often measured by the things we say "yes" to—adventures, challenges, and opportunities. But true strength is equally measured by what we can say "no" to: no to unhealthy food, because we know how to nourish ourselves; no to morally compromised jobs, because we have options; no to unnecessary conflict, not out of fear, but because we could win and still choose not to engage.

Strength is ESSENTIAL for goodness. It gives you the power to choose. And to make meaningful choices, you must be capable. The more power, skill, and knowledge you possess, the more consequential your choices become. But if you're merely hoarding strength to protect yourself from a broken world, what kind of choice is that? This mindset assumes inevitable scarcity and arises from cowardice. It shirks the responsibility we all share as capable human beings to advance truth, beauty, and compassion. To be good, you must be strong. Not just physically, but mentally, and emotionally. A person cannot be virtuous out of fear or lack. Refusing to act from a place of inadequacy isn’t restraint; it’s an excuse. The refusal to bully, to exert dominance, is meaningful only when it comes from an unused capacity for violence. None of this is possible without cultivating an abundance of strength.

This strength must be developed across many domains. A robust vocabulary, quick wit, and deep intellectual fluency are vital forms of strength. But the most immediate and fundamental domain is the physical. Our language reflects this—words like "robust," "quick," and "deep"; all have physical roots (there’s another one). We are physical beings enfolded in the world, and at the end of the day, all our choices manifest through the body.

The physical domain is also the one we will ultimately return to. Whatever else happens, this world begins and ends in length, breadth, and depth. It is an active, alive, and often
unpredictable world. We must prepare ourselves for this activity. Not for an apocalypse, but to prevent it. As we grow stronger, more skilled, and more courageous, so does our ability to do good.

This is why we train. We move heavy things, walk up hills, learn to cook and tell jokes. We breathe fresh air, sleep, and read. We learn to argue, and even wrestle—not to dominate others, but to distinguish between pain and discomfort, threat and challenge. If we can’t discern fear from arousal, how can we respond appropriately? How can we be virtuous without the strength to choose otherwise?

Training sharpens these perceptions. Setting out to move something you’re unsure you can lift or covering a distance you’re not certain you can reach teaches you more than just physical strength. It builds the capacity for choice. With every act of strength, every deliberate decision to do good, we turn the world towards the good.

Ultimately, we don’t train just to prepare for disaster; we train to build a world where disaster is less likely to occur. Our strength allows us to say “no” to what harms us and “yes” to what helps.

It enables us to act with courtesy, empathy, and compassion—not from a place of fear, but because we choose to be good. The more we make this choice, the more the world aligns toward the good. And the more the world is characterized by this alignment, the harder we’ll fight to keep it there.

Author

Amir Alrubaiy, Axistence Coach