A peace that depends on fear is nothing but a suppressed war.

Hear, O seekers of truth, the warning voice of Henry Van Dyke, poet, teacher, and seer of human affairs, who declared: “A peace that depends on fear is nothing but a suppressed war.” In this saying lies the unmasking of false harmony, the stripping away of illusions that men often cling to. For many times in history, nations, rulers, and even families have sought to bind others not with trust, justice, or love, but with terror. Yet Van Dyke reminds us: this is no true peace—it is only war, cloaked in silence, waiting to ignite again.

What is fear but the chain that bends men outwardly while their spirits still burn in rebellion? Fear can make the lips obey, but not the heart. Fear may still the sword, but it cannot still the desire for freedom. A nation held by fear may seem tranquil, but beneath the surface, it is as a volcano, ready to erupt. Van Dyke’s words reveal that peace built on terror is fragile, for it suppresses conflict without resolving it, and such suppression only delays the inevitable storm.

Consider the story of the Cold War, when the great powers of East and West restrained themselves not out of trust, but out of fear—fear of annihilation through nuclear fire. For decades, the world lived in a silence called peace, but it was an anxious peace, trembling under the shadow of weapons that could end humanity. Each side called it stability, yet Van Dyke’s wisdom speaks: it was not peace, but a war suppressed, simmering beneath treaties and speeches, until time and courage brought reconciliation of a different kind.

Or recall the rule of tyrants through the ages. Kings and emperors who ruled with iron fists often proclaimed that their lands were “at peace.” Yet it was a false peace, for the people bowed in terror but dreamed of liberation. So it was with the empires of Babylon and Rome, so it was with the dictators of the twentieth century. They mistook silence for loyalty, obedience for unity. But when fear is the mortar, the walls of such peace inevitably crumble, for no people can forever be content in chains.

O children of tomorrow, learn this: peace without justice is illusion. True peace is not forged by terror, but by trust; not maintained by threats, but by mutual respect. The husband who rules his household by fear does not enjoy peace, but silent resentment. The nation that conquers by force does not earn allies, but breeds enemies waiting for their chance. The world that seeks to maintain balance by intimidation courts disaster. Peace that is real is peace that is chosen, peace that arises from harmony, fairness, and reconciliation.

The lesson is eternal: if you would have peace, banish fear. Build instead on foundations of fairness, dialogue, and dignity. For fear may silence a man, but only respect wins his heart. Fear may halt violence for a season, but only justice prevents its return. This is true in nations, in workplaces, in friendships, and in families. To rely on fear is to plant seeds of revolt; to rely on love and fairness is to plant seeds of peace that endure.

Practical action lies here: in your dealings with others, examine whether you rule by fear or by respect. Do you seek compliance through intimidation, or harmony through trust? In your community, seek leaders who build peace not by threats, but by fairness. In the world, support systems that uplift justice, for only then can the peace they build endure. Fear will always crumble; trust will always stand.

So let the words of Henry Van Dyke echo in your heart: “A peace that depends on fear is nothing but a suppressed war.” Guard yourself against false peace. Build instead the higher peace, the peace that grows from justice, nourished by truth, and guarded by love. For that peace is no illusion—it is the harmony that endures when the shadows of fear have been cast away.