“Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die.”
― Herbert Hoover
War is nothing but an illusion, a distraction to get to goals by deceiving the opposite. Although the world has seen so many wars and their devastating nature, we still believe war will justify peace— that’s how pathetic we are. It’s a business of global powers, a chain of suffering and future conflicts.
For the last few days, I’ve been grounded for medical issues. So, more screen time than ever. Watching movies is a good way to reduce boredom and of course, the pain I am enduring for my health condition. Fortunately, I have a voracious appetite for movies; and I don’t mind watching some of them again and again if they have a lasting impression on me. Upon scrolling for a few minutes, The Battleship Island hit the right cord. Lengthy, warfare, and Korean— I am set for the time. Although I watched it long ago, reminiscing the old days seemed legit at this moment.
But the story is heartbreaking enough. Based on the world war era, it’s a representation of how a country exploited another without remorse. A few weeks earlier, I watched another movie with the same theme— torturing the invaded country mercilessly; women, and children. Perhaps not all of them are true, but even a bit of it is enough to put someone in trauma if witnessed.
Still, after all these years of “civilised progression,” we think war will restore peace. To be honest, we won’t understand the consequences until we are exposed directly to the situation. And those who have survived the war, I guess they have seen hell in this world, the fear of death doesn’t terrorise them anymore.
I have heard stories of warfare from my grandma, even my parents have experienced it. But they were too young to understand the horror. I have heard how they used to flee gunfights, and take shelter in the forests as it wasn’t a war by definition, but a genocide. I heard how women and young girls were raped without discrimination, mothers stripped off their breastfeeding children and killed after raping, how youngers were taken captive to entertain others in the barrack. Unfortunately, the military barrack was very close to our house and our community witnessed the most horrific of all— the agony of the wounded, the screaming of the women and children.
When my grandma used to describe what she had witnessed, I could see her gaze filled with hatred. Being homeless and always on the run to evade the invaders, she used to sleep on ammunition cartridges along with her family. You call this peace?
Still, the nations are fighting each other. They want to restore peace, they say. But can you really comfort a mother who has lost her child in war? Let’s say her country has won, that make any difference? It’s something that is only understandable to the person suffering. The rest of us can show sympathy, but cannot feel the tormentation of the family connected. We won’t ever be.
The world of politics is far greater than our understanding. There is nothing we can do but protest— our little actions can make all the difference. Maybe we won’t be able to stop war but we can sympathise— not with words but through our actions. Helping the charity, raising awareness against humanitarian crises regardless of religion, race, and belief, and spreading positivity among our surroundings can create a peaceful environment.
Maybe it won’t stop the suffering of the affected but it may give them hope for a better tomorrow. And there is nothing greater than promising a better tomorrow to us, our generations, and to the world.
Peace.
