By Ashoka Peiris T.H.
In the words of the ancient Greek philosopher Plato, “Only the dead have seen the end of war.” Those words echo with painful resonance as we look at the ongoing conflict in Gaza. What was once an isolated land now serves as a symbol of the harsh truth that war never truly ends, it simply cycles through generations, tearing apart everything in its path.
While Plato’s words carry weight, the teachings of another ancient figure ‘Gautama Buddha’ adds a layer of tragic irony. Buddha said, “Those who take up arms will be destroyed by the weapon itself.” In a perfect world, this would be true. But the brutal reality is that it is often the innocent, those who never raised a weapon or even wished for war, who are the first to pay the price. Nowhere is this more evident than in Gaza.
In the last 15 months alone, an estimated 47,000 people have lost their lives in Gaza and more than 18,000 of them children. This number is not definitive, human rights groups and analysts fear the actual toll is much higher. The bodies of the innocent, young and old alike lie as grim testimony to the senselessness of this ongoing conflict. These numbers are not just statistics; they are lives, stories cut short, futures snuffed out before they could even begin to bloom.
As humans, we pride ourselves on our intelligence and sophistication. We have created societies, built cities, and developed technologies. Yet, when faced with conflict, some of our leaders still choose war as the only answer. And in those moments, man, who should be the pinnacle of reason and compassion, becomes a wild animal that is capable of unthinkable destruction. This is the truth Gaza teaches us.
But what if we took a step back? What if we listened to the words of Buddha and Plato? Both these men understood something about the fragility of human life and the fleeting nature of violence. To Buddha, peace was the path, and violence was the enemy, not just of others, but of the very soul. He taught that the taking of life leads only to greater suffering. Yet, in Gaza, it is the civilians, those who never lifted a weapon, who suffer most.
Religion, in its many forms, offers solace. It teaches love, unity, and the sacredness of life. But in Gaza, it is the absence of these teachings in the hearts of those who wage war that has turned a once thriving region into a graveyard for the innocent. Gaza, a land with a rich history, is now a place where every street, every home, bears the scar of destruction. This isn’t just the result of weapons but also the failure of humanity to choose peace over war.
Life, as Buddha also said, is a temporary shelter. Death is merely the mind leaving the body and joining the wind. Perhaps, in some cosmic way, this is what the people of Gaza have come to understand. But for the rest of us, the lesson remains unlearned. In their suffering, Gaza asks us all: How long will we ignore the cost of war?
Gaza is not just a distant tragedy, it is a mirror reflecting our failure to protect life, our inability to break the cycle of violence. Every bomb that falls, every life lost, echoes the failure of our collective humanity.
It’s time to stop asking “How many more?” and start demanding “What will it take for this to end?” We can no longer afford to be passive observers, to wait for another Plato or Buddha to remind us of our duty to humanity. Gaza teaches us one undeniable truth: War does not end until we make the conscious decision to end it.
And that decision starts with you and me.