War and Peace

Any drawing of a peaceful scene — friends playing, a quiet garden, a family meal, a classroom with children working together. The completion should describe peace and identify a personal action. For example: 'This is peaceful because everyone looks happy and safe. I can help make our class peaceful by being kind and asking quiet children to join my games.'

When I disagree with someone, I should try to use my words, listen to their side, and find a way that works for both of us. A peacemaker is someone who helps when things are going wrong — by being kind, by not joining in a fight, and by asking a grown-up for help when needed.

Even during war, some actions are forbidden by international law. These rules, most fully set out in the Geneva Conventions of 1949, are called international humanitarian law. They exist because, even when countries fight, some things should never happen — attacking people who cannot defend themselves, torturing prisoners, or targeting hospitals. One key rule is that civilians must be protected. Civilians are people who are not part of the fighting — children, medical workers, ordinary citizens. Deliberately attacking civilians is a war crime and can be prosecuted by international courts. The rules do not stop all violence in war, but they save many lives and make it possible for former enemies to trust each other again when the fighting ends.

Ending a war is not the same as building peace. When fighting stops, countries often still face enormous problems. Homes, schools, and hospitals may be destroyed. Many people carry deep trauma. Former enemies still live alongside each other and may still not trust one another. The causes that led to war — disputes over land, resources, or power — may still be unresolved. If these issues are not addressed, a new war often follows within a few years. Real peacebuilding requires safety, rebuilding infrastructure, truth about what happened, justice for victims, and over time, rebuilding trust between former enemies. The European Union after World War II is one example of this kind of long-term peacebuilding — countries that had just fought each other built shared institutions to make future wars almost impossible. Real peace is a long project, not a single moment.

The claim that there is no such thing as a just war — that all wars cause more harm than they prevent — captures a powerful moral intuition. The record of war is almost unrelievedly terrible. However, on balance, the claim is too strong. Some wars have prevented greater harms than they caused, and accepting the claim fully would leave the world defenceless against genuine aggressors. A careful answer must recognise the strength of the pacifist position while seeing its limits.

The case for the claim is serious. The human cost of war is almost beyond comprehension. The 20th century alone saw over 100 million deaths from war. World War I killed about 20 million; World War II about 70-85 million. The Iraq War (2003-) caused hundreds of thousands of deaths. The Syrian civil war has killed over 600,000. Beyond deaths, war produces shattered lives, refugees, destroyed cultures, and trauma that echoes through generations. Almost every war started with claims of necessity or justice — and almost every war, in retrospect, looks more complex.

Furthermore, pacifists and nonviolent activists have strong empirical evidence that peaceful methods can achieve political change. Erica Chenoweth and Maria Stephan's research found peaceful resistance succeeded about twice as often as armed resistance between 1900 and 2006. Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and the 1989 revolutions in Eastern Europe showed that even seemingly invincible regimes could be ended without war. This suggests that the claim 'war was necessary' is often false — nonviolent alternatives existed and would have worked better.

However, the claim overstates its case for several reasons. First, some wars have prevented greater harms. The Allied war against Nazi Germany stopped the Holocaust (eventually, though too late for millions). Stopping the aggression that threatened Europe and endangering millions of lives justified the enormous cost. Similar analyses apply to the intervention that stopped the Rwandan genocide (too late, too limited) or the fighting that prevented fall of Kosovo to ethnic cleansing in 1999. Rejecting war entirely would have left victims of genuine atrocities without rescue.

Second, the pacifist view struggles with pure aggression. If one country attacks another, must the attacked country simply accept conquest? The UN Charter preserves the right of self-defence for good reason. A world where aggressors know their victims will not fight back is a world where aggression is routine. Ukraine's armed resistance to Russian invasion since 2022 is not easily dismissed as unjust.

Third, nonviolent methods work in certain conditions but not all. Gandhi's movement worked partly because British rule had real constraints on extreme violence. Nonviolent resistance failed in Cambodia against the Khmer Rouge, in Rwanda during the genocide, in Nazi-occupied countries. Against regimes willing to commit mass murder, armed resistance may be the only alternative to extermination.

Fourth, just war theory addresses the real question of how to think ethically about war, rather than wishing the question away. Its criteria — just cause, last resort, proportionality, discrimination between civilians and combatants, reasonable chance of success — provide genuine discipline. Wars that fail these tests are unjust; wars that meet them may be justified. The 2003 Iraq War failed; the 1945 fight against Nazi Germany passed.

In conclusion, the claim contains an important truth but is too strong. Most wars are indeed unjust, most claims of necessity are inflated, and nonviolent alternatives should be pursued far more systematically than they are. But some wars — fighting genuine aggression, stopping mass atrocities, defending existence — can be just. The better position is not that no war is ever just but that wars should be far rarer, more restricted, and more honestly evaluated than they typically are. The presumption should be against war, with the burden of proof on those who wish to wage it. Most wars would not meet this test. Some would — and these remain defensible responses to grave evils.

International humanitarian law (IHL), most fully set out in the Geneva Conventions of 1949 and their Additional Protocols, regulates the conduct of armed conflict. Its core principles include: distinction between combatants and civilians (only combatants may be attacked); proportionality (expected civilian harm must not exceed military advantage); humane treatment of prisoners and the wounded; protection of hospitals, schools, and cultural sites; and prohibition of specific weapons such as chemical weapons. These rules bind all states, regardless of whether they are party to the specific treaties, through customary international law.

Critics argue that IHL is meaningless because violations occur in nearly every armed conflict. Gaza, Ukraine, Syria, Yemen, Myanmar — all have seen serious violations. War crimes are prosecuted selectively, with powerful states' citizens rarely facing justice.

Despite these genuine problems, IHL still matters for several reasons. First, most armed forces most of the time follow the rules. Civilians are spared, prisoners are treated humanely, hospitals are avoided — not in every case, but in the majority. The scale of harm prevented is enormous, even if often invisible precisely because it did not happen. Second, violations create legal consequences. War crimes prosecutions (Yugoslavia, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Liberia) have convicted senior figures including heads of state. The ICC's arrest warrant against Putin in 2023 shows that even powerful leaders face legal risk. Third, IHL shapes what counts as a legitimate act of war, affecting diplomatic responses, alliance decisions, and public opinion. Fourth, victims have at least formal recognition and sometimes redress. Fifth, the law establishes that some acts are crimes, not merely misfortunes.

IHL is imperfect and selectively enforced, but the alternative — no rules at all — would produce catastrophically worse outcomes. The framework deserves defence and strengthening, not dismissal.