War is that strange human hobby in which we destroy everything we have built, and then hold conferences to discuss reconstruction.
It begins with speeches. It always begins with speeches. Leaders stand tall, chests expanded like overinflated tyres, voices trembling with patriotic passion. Words like honour, security, destiny and sovereignty are flung into the air like confetti at a wedding. The crowd cheers. Flags wave. Drums beat. Nobody hears the faint sound of mothers quietly worrying in the background.
Then comes the marching. Boots on roads. Tanks on fields. Aircraft slicing through blue skies that had only recently been hosting kites and migrating birds. The same hands that once planted crops now clutch rifles. The same young men who were worrying about exams or business profits suddenly become experts in survival.
War, I have noticed, has excellent marketing and terrible results.
History is full of glowing promises and smoking ruins. Empires have marched out confidently and returned as chapters in textbooks. Cities once famous for art, music and laughter have become blackened photographs in history archives. The only industry that never seems to suffer in war is the graveyard business. That one flourishes magnificently.
And what exactly is won?
Land that is soaked in blood. Borders that shift slightly, only to be disputed again. Pride that feels triumphant for a few months and then must be fed another conflict to remain alive. Meanwhile, hospitals overflow, economies wobble, and children learn to distinguish between the sound of fireworks and the sound of shelling.
War is advertised as strength. In reality, it is often insecurity wearing armour.
The tragic comedy is that both sides pray to the same God for victory. Both sides believe righteousness sits comfortably in their trench. Both sides print posters declaring moral superiority. Yet bullets do not check moral credentials before entering flesh.
If war truly solved problems, humanity would be living in paradise by now. We have had thousands of years of practice. Instead, we have perfected destruction far more efficiently than dialogue.
The greatest irony is that the same intelligence that can split atoms, build satellites and perform heart transplants still struggles to sit around a table and say, let us talk.
War does not merely destroy buildings. It erodes trust. It hardens hearts. It teaches generations to inherit grudges like family heirlooms.
Perhaps the bravest act in the world is not to march into battle, but to refuse to.
Because when the smoke clears and the speeches fade, it is always the ordinary person who pays the bill…!