I received my military training in the Cold War. At that time peace was viewed as a détente between the communist East and the capitalist West, reinforced by the mutually assured destruction of a balance of nuclear weapons between us. Like many others, I saw the end of the Cold War in 1989 as the opportunity to judiciously draw down armies and defence spending and focus on humanitarian efforts. And Europe, despite its long history of antagonism among nationals, did make strides in establishing and maintaining peace based on economic prosperity, human rights and a union of effort.
At the same time, however, three major powers—China, Russia and the United States—used the end of the Cold War to increase their military might. Russia has since become a giant rogue state, invading Ukraine in 2022 and attempting to gather allies wherever US influence has ebbed, namely in Syria, the Middle East and parts of Africa. China’s true ambitions are still murky, but clearly reach beyond its current borders. Despite some isolationist moments, the US sees itself as the single entity that guarantees the security of the entire world, deploying its power throughout the globe. In stark contrast to the European doves, American hawks still see the exercise of power as the only way to peace.
So, decades after the Berlin Wall fell, we have stumbled back into a power-based world of alliances, where truces are more fragile now than they have been in decades. History continues to repeat ad nauseum. Peacekeepers by the tens of thousands are patrolling, observing and sporadically intervening in complex conflict zones, armed with limited resources and, too often, let down by outdated and superficial training, ambiguous mandates and inadequate leadership. Darfur, Mali, Congo, Afghanistan, Myanmar: in every case the world either turns its back entirely, as it did in Rwanda, or sends thoughts and prayers and guns. In some places, like Syria after the Arab Spring, the international community doesn’t even really try to intervene, or else, as in Libya with the fall of Muammar Qaddafi, it makes the situation so very much worse.
Faced with the unpredictability of Vladimir Putin and his war against Ukraine (and the volatility of the Islamic State, al-Shabab, Hamas, populist white nationalists and all other malcontent extremists), we continually fall back on the same old tools and tactics. So much so that as I write these words, we find ourselves in another cold war, paralyzed into inaction by Russia’s bluff over launching nuclear bombs. We met Putin’s threats with sanctions and censure, and a lot of weapons and money for Ukraine (none of which, it should be noted, had been offered to Rwanda), but still we do not dare cross borders to protect the civilians whose country has been invaded, whose homes are being bombed, and who are being abused, displaced and killed.
The hard right everywhere is watching Putin with interest. To me, this era seems an awful lot like the 1930s: while a majority of middle powers are coming together with ideas for peaceful solutions, nationalists are increasing their power; there is no common ground between progressive ideas around peacebuilding and the “big power” concept of “securing” peace. This creates great uncertainty in the southern half of the world, where countries are not sure which power bloc to play ball with.
We had plenty of warning the invasion of Ukraine was coming—the nearly ten years since the Russians went into Crimea in 2014—and still we were unable to prevent the escalation. The “classic” tools and metrics used by the international community—the diplomatic exchanges, embargoes, self-interested assessments of resources (are there fuel, minerals and food reserves to protect or only unimportant human beings?), and aversion to casualties (to stay on the good side of media and voters)—none of it has changed. How can we be surprised when the results are the same? If we had really progressed in our united ambitions for peace, as soon as Russia edged its toes up to the border with Ukraine, NATO (the North Atlantic Treaty Organization) or the UN member states or both would have reinforced the line with boots on the ground. In our imperfect world today, the only way to struggle for peace is still with a show of willingness to fight.
Surely there has to be something more we can do. I have spent years reaching for that something more—a way to bring true and lasting peace. A revolutionary strategy for conflict prevention. A covenant of respect for the individual human being, instead of the nation-state. A shared understanding that engages all parties, from community groups to international bodies, from pulpits to command posts. An ensemble solution that reflects our increasingly borderless existence on this planet, where we are all equally vulnerable to climate change at the largest scale and to a virus at the smallest.
Conflicts that regenerate again and again after impotent peace agreements keep distracting us from coming together to face the greatest risks to our survival. If we cannot agree on a cohesive strategy to anticipate and mitigate conflicts among ourselves, how can we expect to resolve problems that will affect the whole of humanity?