Once a hopeful world
Claire Doll
Class of 2024
(11/2021) I sit at my school desk, gripping my glittery mechanical pencil as my social studies teacher asks one of the most common philosophical questions one could ask (too philosophical for a fifth grader, in my opinion). In her high-pitched voice, she says, "If you had one wish, what would it be?"
It was a gut feeling, my answer to this question. I wrote the two words down in the corner of my notebook: "world peace." While other students responded with material things, things only they would benefit from, I contemplated the hopeful idea of harmony among countries, of wars ending and a feeling of kinship binding humanity together. After all, growing up in a post 9/11 world, I viewed violence as images flickering on a TV screen in my kitchen as I ate dinner, and I viewed war as something constantly threaded throughout our past and present. Because of this, I inevitably, and sadly enough, viewed "world peace" as a utopia, as hopeless, and as my teacher said, a wish.
But there was once a time that humanity hoped for, and somewhat attained, a warless world. When given the opportunity to research Armistice Day, the 11th of November in 1918 when an agreement was reached to stop fighting between Germany and the Allies in World War One, I couldn’t help but find the idea of it so funny. It was funny in a sad way, in the kind of way you laugh about something tragic in order to lighten the mood, or in the kind of way your heart recognizes and lets in that familiar feeling of terror you know all too well. Maybe I found it amusing because World War One was supposed to be "the war that ended all wars," as if for the rest of time, our world would be united by peace, would be a harmonious humanity founded upon accord. Perhaps if those troops who praised the ending of World War One were to see our society today, see the bloodshed of the second World War, see the tension of the Cold War, see the terrorist attacks
threatening our own nation, they’d be shocked that their dream of a warless utopia would remain only that – a dream. Or maybe I found it amusing because I have normalized war. Much like our innate characteristics of curiosity, belonging, and empathy, conflict and rivalry have been equally universalized as something that humans simply do.
Yet is it natural for humans to have conflict? Many would respond with yes, stating how our differences are responsible for both the beautiful diversity as well as the disagreements of our world. Upon researching more information about Armistice Day, I learned how rather than a surrender, it was more of a negotiation, a method of attaining peace and ending war. How simple it must be, I thought, to come to terms like this. How simple must it be to place our differences aside and pursue such hilarious spirits of joy and hope that war is truly over. In my own opinion, conflict is natural; war is how we choose to manage conflict, and violence is often the way we pursue this.
As Plato says, "People regard the same things, some as just and others as unjust – about these they dispute; and so there arise wars and fights among them." Solely from a philosophical perspective, it is important to recognize that everything existing externally from us is the same; it is the way we perceive these things, if they are just or unjust, good or bad, that brings about war. To be able to acknowledge these differences and still arrive at a peaceful agreement is profound, but to assume that World War One would be the "war to end all wars" is hopeful and, from a present-day perspective, na've. I can imagine the sorrow that would be felt later on when World War Two and other conflicts arose. I can imagine the hurt, the failed promise of peace, the little children who were scarred with the everlastingness of war, like today’s children, who see these images of violence and instinctively know it as such.
November 11th is now Veteran’s Day. We celebrate the bravery, the courage, the boldness of those who are so willing to serve our country in the wars we choose to fight. Perhaps we have given up any hope that Armistice Day had to offer, and perhaps we have accepted a violent world so much that we have changed the 11th of November to support those who continuously fight our wars. Or maybe, perhaps it is all in our humanity, the nature of conflict. Perhaps Plato is right as to why wars occur, and perhaps world peace is truly just a pipe dream.
So why would my fifth-grade schoolteacher give me an assignment that encouraged me to wish for world peace? Why would she inspire my spirits, lend me hope that harmony and grace among others are possible? Asking this means we ask anyone why they dream. If I could go back in time and live through those joyous spirits present on November 11th, 1918 – if I could experience that abounding relief, that intensity of optimism – I would ask the soldiers why they dreamed for world peace. I would ask why they faithfully believed World War One would be the last war we’d ever fight. I would ask how the armistice ended their misery, how they lived with such joy in times where it was desperately needed. And I would ask them how to live with that hope constantly, how I can look at our world today – our world of violence and war in Afghanistan and threats of terrorism and political turmoil – and know deep down that everything will be okay.
As that innocent little fifth grader gripping her glittery pencil, I knew nothing about Armistice Day, but I could still imagine the hope of peace blossoming in the world. This is because sitting at my desk, I felt that same feeling while writing down my wish for the world. Perhaps one day, we will attain this. But for now, November 11th is a day of remembrance, honor, and respect for those who are brave and courageous enough to fight our continuous wars.
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