An owl is traditionally a symbol of wisdom, so we are neither

In the ancient forests, beneath the silver gaze of the moon, the owl sat in silent watchfulness. Through countless cultures, this creature became a symbol of wisdom, for while others slept, it remained awake, perceiving the unseen, guarding against the darkness. When Urjit Patel declared, “An owl is traditionally a symbol of wisdom, so we are neither doves nor hawks but owls, and we are vigilant when others are resting,” he spoke of a higher calling—a path not of aggression like the hawk, nor of passive peace like the dove, but of balance, discernment, and vigilance.

The dove represents harmony, offering olive branches and hope for a tranquil world. The hawk, on the other hand, embodies war and swift, decisive action. Yet both, when taken to extremes, falter: the dove may invite destruction through naivety, and the hawk may bring ruin through unrestrained fury. The owl, however, belongs to neither camp. It neither seeks conflict nor flees from it, but watches carefully, guided by wisdom, waiting for the right moment to act. This is the path of leaders who must see beyond immediate desires to safeguard the future.

History shines with examples of such owl-like vigilance. Consider the role of Winston Churchill in the years before World War II. While many leaders slept in the comfort of false peace, dismissing the threat of tyranny, Churchill watched the gathering storm with keen eyes. He was mocked for his warnings, yet when the time came, his readiness and foresight saved nations from falling entirely into darkness. In that moment, he embodied the spirit of the owl, standing watch when others slumbered, his vision piercing through deceit and illusion.

Vigilance demands solitude and patience. The one who bears this burden often walks a lonely road, misunderstood by both the hawk and the dove. For the hawk cries, “Strike now!” and the dove pleads, “Do nothing!” but the owl listens to neither, following the quiet voice of wisdom instead. This requires great courage, for it is easier to act rashly or to retreat than to remain still and discerning amidst chaos. True guardians of a people must learn this sacred balance.

Let this teaching be passed to future generations: in times of uncertainty, be not driven solely by the fervor of hawks or the serenity of doves. Instead, become as the owl—silent, watchful, and unyielding. Guard the night when others rest, and act only when the moment is ripe. For through wisdom and vigilance, the realm is protected, and a lasting peace is forged not through blind hope or reckless wrath, but through the clear sight of those who dare to see in the dark.