The True Victory  - in Persian پیروزی واقعی 

By: John Kazerooni

The room was cold and silent; as if even the walls had lost their spirit and peace. Inside that room, a father and mother were arguing over a trivial matter when their son walked in, greeting them with respect and excitement.

The father glared at him with anger and said: "How many times have I told you not to enter the house with your shoes on?" With a childlike touch of respect, the son said, "I am so sorry."

But before he could say another word, the father pulled out his belt and struck him without any logical reason. A rash and hasty decision had become an excuse for groundless, senseless violence.

Yet, was the son truly the cause of the father’s anger, or merely a victim caught between his mother and father's conflict? Perhaps the events within this small home reflect a much larger societal problem.

Two neighboring countries may live in peace for generations. Their people may trade, work, and live together without harboring hatred for one another. But one day, their leaders become enemies, and suddenly ordinary people are asked to fight those who were their neighbors and friends just yesterday.

Perhaps we have grown too accustomed to turning disagreement into conflict, and conflict into war. We fight, we inflict harm, we kill, and then, to justify our actions, we choose names like defense, freedom, security, justice, or victory. But who truly wins? And who pays the price?

In war, a bomb may detonate in a matter of seconds, but its consequences can linger for generations. When a city is bombed, it is not just buildings that are destroyed; innocent human beings are killed. Hospitals, homes, and schools lose their electricity and water. Water treatment plants and sewage systems may fail. Roads and bridges vanish beneath the rubble, making the delivery of food, medicine, and emergency aid nearly impossible.

Yet, true devastation is not always visible. The dust of ruined buildings can release toxic materials, heavy metals, chemicals, and asbestos into the air and water. Contaminated water and destroyed sanitation systems spread disease, and the soil may remain poisoned for years.

And not all bombs explode. Unexploded ordnance may lie hidden beneath the rubble, along roads, in fields, and inside homes. Years later, a child, a farmer, or a worker might stumble upon one.

War may be over for those who started it, but for those who survived it, it never truly ends. Destroyed homes and factories do not merely erase people's possessions; they shatter their ability to earn a living and build a future. Families are displaced, and children grow up among ruins instead of opportunities.

Worse still, the psychological scars of war persist within the human mind. The sound of an airplane or a loud noise can instantly revive the memory of an explosion. The body may survive, but the mind remains trapped in that exact moment, imprisoned by the wounds forged by war.

The cost of war cannot be measured by money alone. It is paid in lost childhoods, fractured families, fear, displacement, disease, poverty, and futures that never had the chance to begin.

Sometimes we forget the simplest truth of the modern world: what turns into a tragedy in a neighboring country may one day arrive at our own doorstep. Poverty is not merely a shortage of money; when combined with a lack of education, healthcare, and opportunity, it creates a relentless chain of hardships.

Poverty can lead to poor nutrition; poor nutrition leads to illness; a lack of healthcare spreads disease; a lack of education creates an inability to solve problems; and unemployment and despair breed instability and conflict. Ultimately, conflict sparks mass migration, carrying its consequences far across borders.

The fire in a neighbor’s house is not just smoke. If left unquenched, its flames will eventually reach our own home. Crisis is no different. War, disease, pollution, poverty, violence, and economic collapse do not stop neatly at national borders. We can draw lines upon maps, but in reality, human suffering recognizes none of these boundaries.

So why wait until the fire reaches our own ceiling? Perhaps it would be wiser to learn with our neighbors, to trade, to assist, and to cooperate. A prosperous, healthy, and educated neighbor is not inherently a threat; they may well be our best protection. If we can extinguish the fire in our neighbor's house, why wait until it reaches our own?

…

But what if the root of the problem runs deeper? What if the catalyst for war is an ideology bent on conquest, subjugation, or the destruction of others? And what if its leaders truly believe that their worldview must triumph over the entire globe? Here, the issue takes on an entirely different shape.

We cannot solve a problem by pretending it does not exist. A dangerous belief must be seen, examined, and critiqued. Yet, we must never conflate the people of a nation with the ideology of their rulers. Many ordinary people simply wish to raise their children, work, and live in peace. They may never have been given the opportunity to study history, examine evidence, or question what they were taught from childhood—or perhaps the very right to question was stripped from them.

In such cases, true change must not begin with force; it must begin with awareness. People must be given the chance to read, to question, to compare, and to arrive at their own conclusions. In today’s era of internet access, this possibility is within reach, though such transformation may take years, generations, or even centuries.

An ideology shaped over centuries cannot be eradicated by a single bomb. If the roots of a tree are diseased, chopping off its branches will not heal it. If the roots of a conflict lie in dangerous beliefs, bombing a population will not destroy those beliefs.

Regrettably, we bury the truth beneath the ashes and then express bewilderment as to why the fire continues to burn. The truth may be unpalatable, but it is almost always the beginning of understanding.

In many authoritarian regimes, books are censored, information is controlled, history is rewritten, and independent voices are silenced. Why? Because anyone who asks "Why?" has taken the first step toward independent thought.

A weapon can demolish a building; but awareness can dismantle the foundations of an oppressive intellectual system. A bomb can silence a voice for a fleeting moment; but a single question may echo across generations.

For this reason, the most powerful response to a dangerous ideology is rarely another bomb. Sometimes it is a question. Sometimes it is an honest history book. And sometimes, it is simply this phrase: "Let us examine the evidence, look at the facts, and ask why."

True education does not tell people what to think; it teaches them how to think. And people who have learned how to think are far harder to control. Regrettably, in some societies, rather than evaluating an idea, we resort to labeling the person who critiques it. This is the greatest betrayal a society can inflict upon itself and its future through willful blindness.

Yet, we must remember that a vast breakaway separates hatred for human beings from the critical examination of ideas. We must not hold individuals accountable for their birthplace or the beliefs instilled in them since childhood by no option, nor should we shy away from critiquing a dangerous idea.

Alas, we have found another way to evade difficult truths: rather than addressing what is spoken, we attack the speaker. We dismiss a person who dares to question or expose a hazardous ideology by casting labels like "ideophobe" upon them. The question is: If an ideology is true, why should it fear a question? If its history is honorable, why not allow it to be scrutinized? And if the truth does not fear questions, why should we fear asking them?

An ideology that cannot withstand inquiry is not saved by silence; it is merely hidden for a time. Therefore, instead of bombing, we ought to educate; instead of destroying, we ought to illuminate; and instead of meeting an ideology with violence, we should expose it to the light of truth.

For instance, we must understand how hatred took root, how fear was passed down from generation to generation, and how conquest and violence became acceptable to some. If people are allowed to witness the unvarnished truth of history, they can decide for themselves which beliefs are worthy of carrying into the future—rather than swallowing the fabricated myths and sanitized legends spun by that ideology's creators.

…

And yet, what if all these efforts are not enough? We must acknowledge that peace does not mean granting ourselves or others permission to be destroyed. If a genuine threat exists, we must employ the least destructive means necessary to halt it, while safeguarding innocent lives on both sides as much as humanly possible, and always keeping a pathway to peace open. For the power to fight is not the same as desiring war.

In such moments, the unity of nations becomes paramount. Through diplomacy, economic pressure, and the restriction of political and commercial ties, nations can stand together to make it clear that aggression yields no reward. An act of aggression against one ally must be treated as an act of aggression against all. Unity breeds strength, trust, and deterrence.

If we remain vigilant while an aggressive state is still accumulating power, and act before its expansion solidifies into dominance, we may stop it before a crisis metastasizes into a catastrophic war.

Furthermore, we must recognize that vulnerable countries harbor deeply discontented citizens. Through their own awareness, understanding, and recognition of their system, these citizens ultimately decide a better future for their children. Bearing this in mind, no external force can permanently transform a nation unless that transformation wells up from within. If the citizens of that country perceive the truth, they may begin dismantling the pillars of falsehood built across generations.

This is perhaps the only power capable of truly transforming a nation: neither a foreign power, nor an external force, nor anyone else, but the people of that nation themselves.

Yet, such an awakening demands time. Education, awareness, reading, questioning, and reflection are slow journeys. If we rush, we may escape one pitfall only to plunge into a deeper chasm, mistaking a new form of darkness for freedom. True emancipation must unfold step by step, question by question, awakening by awakening.

I know that patience is difficult for those who suffer. We have grown accustomed to demanding instant results: quick answers, sudden recovery, and magical cures for every pain. However, certain things cannot be rushed. A flower does not bloom upon our command; it requires soil, rain, sunlight, and time. If we pry open its petals demanding rapid blossoming, we destroy the very beauty that was quietly taking form.

Healing is no different. Patience is not passive inaction; it is trust in the quiet work that time performs.

…

What is it, precisely, that we are protecting? We pour billions upon billions of dollars into preparing for war, while millions of ordinary human beings struggle simply to live with dignity. We speak of protecting life, while people perish from hunger. We speak of defending freedom, while innocent human beings fall victim to disputes between governments. We champion civilization, while we systematically devastate homes, hospitals, schools, roads, farms, and futures.

We possess the technology to intercept an enemy missile in midair before it reaches our soil, yet we often fail to timely contain raging wildfires that consume thousands of homes and vast expanses of nature. So what, precisely, are we guarding? Perhaps we have become so intoxicated by power that we have forgotten its ultimate purpose.

Power ought to shield the people, not inflict suffering upon them. Ordinary people never profit from war; rather, the powerful profit from public fear, influence, and the sale of arms.

We are often told that war generates jobs and prosperity. Perhaps so. But if we require destruction to manufacture prosperity, what does that say about our civilization? What manner of society builds its economy upon demolishing what human hands have built?

A country’s greatest defense is not its arsenal; its greatest defense is the awareness, prosperity, health, dignity, and hope of its people. And perhaps the safest border is not the one fortified by the tallest walls or the heaviest weaponry, but the one surrounded by peaceful, healthy, educated, and prosperous neighbors. If the suffering of our neighbor inevitably reaches us, aiding them may well be one of the smartest forms of self-preservation.

Perhaps our greatest victory will not be defeating or bombing a neighbor. Perhaps our greatest victory will be creating a world where none of us have any reason to fight at all.

…

Questions That Remain

• If the fire in a neighbor’s house can burn our own, why do we wait until the flames reach us?

• If education, awareness, trade, and cooperation can prevent suffering, why do we spend vastly more on preparing for war?

• If a bomb detonates in seconds but its consequences linger for generations, what do we call victory?

• If war destroys a hospital, a school, a home, a farm, and a child's future, who truly wins?

• If ordinary people on both sides want to live in peace, who benefits when they are pitted against one another?

• If an ideology is dangerous, why not examine it openly instead of hiding it?

• If hatred can pass from generation to generation, can awareness and understanding not be passed down as well?

• If truth does not fear questions, why do we fear asking them?

• If an ideology can only survive when people are forbidden from questioning, can it endure in the light of truth?

• If we separate the human from the idea, can we oppose dangerous beliefs without hating the people born under them?

• If the unity of nations can prevent aggression, why do we sometimes wait until the threat grows larger?

• If people are never allowed to question what they have been taught, how can they know what they believe is true?

• If we dismiss someone simply for exposing or questioning a dangerous ideology by labeling them an "ideophobe," are we examining their argument or fleeing from the argument itself?

• If an ideology does not fear the truth, why should it fear those who ask difficult questions?

• If criticizing an ideology is automatically called hatred or a phobia, how can society have an honest dialogue about dangerous ideas?

• If our goal is protection, not revenge, how do we ensure our response to aggression does not become a fresh cycle of destruction?

• And if a fire is smoldering beneath the ashes, should our first response be dropping another bomb—or finding the fire, understanding where it began, and discovering a way to put it out?

Perhaps the deepest questions are these:

• Have we become more powerful than we are wise?

• Have we learned how to win wars, but forgotten how to win peace?

• If humanity has become powerful enough to destroy itself, has it also become wise enough to choose not to?

And perhaps most importantly of all: What if the greatest weapon against a dangerous idea is not the power to destroy it, but wisdom, awareness, and exposing it to the truth?

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