But that citizen's perception was also at one with the truth in
But that citizen's perception was also at one with the truth in recognizing that the very brutality of the means by which the IRA were pursuing change was destructive of the trust upon which new possibilities would have to be based.
"But that citizen's perception was also at one with the truth in recognizing that the very brutality of the means by which the IRA were pursuing change was destructive of the trust upon which new possibilities would have to be based." These words by the poet Seamus Heaney cut to the heart of a profound truth about the nature of violence, change, and trust. Heaney speaks of the IRA, an organization engaged in violent struggle for political change in Northern Ireland, and he reflects on how the brutality of their methods undermined the very trust upon which any future progress could be built. While their cause may have been one of seeking justice and freedom, the means by which they pursued this goal, violence, destroyed the foundation necessary for any lasting peace. Heaney understood that for peace to be achieved, there must first be trust—trust between individuals, communities, and nations—and that violence inherently erodes this trust.
In the ancient world, the relationship between violence and trust was a key theme in the works of philosophers like Plato and Aristotle. In his writings, Plato emphasized the importance of justice and harmony within a society, and he warned that violence—no matter how just the cause—always leads to further discord and destruction. In The Republic, Plato imagines a perfect society where rulers act in the best interest of the whole community, not through the force of arms, but through wisdom and virtue. He saw violence as the antithesis of peace and justice, a force that could only create further distrust and chaos. Heaney’s quote resonates with this ancient wisdom: trust is essential to the possibility of change, and violence, even when it seems justified, destroys the very fabric that could allow for lasting transformation.
Similarly, Aristotle in his work Politics also examined the nature of revolution and change, noting that true change comes not through destruction, but through the establishment of just systems that respect the rights and dignity of all people. While Aristotle did not shy away from discussing the possibility of revolution, he emphasized that violence, especially when used by those seeking justice, often leads to a cycle of retribution and further violence. Like Plato, he recognized that peace and progress are only possible when trust is upheld, and that violence—even in the pursuit of a noble cause—destroys the trust necessary for a better world.
Consider the historical example of Mahatma Gandhi during India’s fight for independence from British rule. Gandhi's commitment to nonviolence and his insistence that true freedom could only come through peaceful resistance became the hallmark of his leadership. Gandhi understood that if the Indian people resorted to violence in their struggle, they would not only be fighting against their colonial oppressors but would also undermine the very trust needed to build a free and just society after independence. His philosophy of ahimsa (nonviolence) was not merely a tactic but a belief that peace and justice could not be achieved through force. Gandhi’s ability to foster trust within the movement, both among the Indian people and internationally, helped him create a powerful wave of change—one built not on the foundation of brutality but on the foundation of trust, understanding, and compassion.
Heaney’s reflection on the IRA and their violence points to the critical importance of trust in any movement for change. Without trust, the foundations of society crumble. Even when a cause may be just, if it is pursued through violent means, it risks perpetuating the cycle of fear, division, and retaliation that makes lasting peace impossible. Trust—the trust between leaders and followers, between communities, between nations—is the true price of peace. It is only through trust that the wounds of the past can begin to heal, that reconciliation can take place, and that a future free from conflict can be envisioned. Violence, on the other hand, always undermines this trust, making it harder to build the foundations for a better world.
The lesson here is clear: peace and progress require trust. Heaney reminds us that the methods we choose to pursue change matter just as much as the change we seek. Violence, even when it is fueled by a desire for justice, cannot bring about true reconciliation. Instead, it deepens division and creates new obstacles to the peace we desire. As individuals and communities, we must ask ourselves: Are we building trust through our actions, or are we eroding it? Are we pursuing change in ways that foster understanding and cooperation, or are we reinforcing fear and distrust?
In our daily lives, we can take these lessons to heart by embracing the values of peace and trust in our relationships, in our work, and in our communities. When faced with conflict, whether in our personal lives or in the larger world, we can choose to resolve it through dialogue, empathy, and a commitment to mutual respect. By doing so, we help build the foundation for a future of lasting peace—one based not on the destruction of others, but on the cultivation of trust, justice, and understanding. Just as the great figures of history have shown us, the true path to change is not through violence but through the quiet, yet powerful, work of building bridges and healing the wounds that divide us. Trust is the cornerstone of that journey, and it is a price worth paying for the possibility of a peaceful, just world.
MMoyy
Reading this, I sense Heaney’s empathy for both sides — the desire for change and the recognition of its moral costs. It’s a reminder that revolutions are as much ethical struggles as political ones. I wonder how societies can balance the urgency for transformation with the patience that trust-building requires. Is it possible for revolutionary energy and moral restraint to coexist without canceling each other out?
MPMy Pham
This statement raises a difficult question: can righteous intent justify harmful methods if the cause seems noble enough? Heaney seems to suggest that moral compromise in pursuit of justice undermines the entire purpose of change. But then, what happens when peaceful methods fail? Should oppressed people still reject violent resistance, even when all peaceful avenues are closed to them? It’s a deeply uncomfortable dilemma.
TLTran Thuy Linh
There’s something haunting about this insight. It reminds me that political violence doesn’t just destroy lives; it corrodes the moral fabric of society. The loss of trust isn’t just between enemies but also within communities themselves. How can citizens maintain hope or solidarity when the fight for change becomes indistinguishable from the violence they oppose? Does moral clarity survive in such turmoil?
KSKi Su
I find this quote incredibly nuanced. It doesn’t outright condemn the desire for change but points to the tragic irony of trying to create a better future through destructive actions. It makes me reflect on how communities heal after such cycles of violence. What mechanisms — forgiveness, dialogue, truth commissions — are strong enough to restore trust once it’s shattered by brutality? Is full restoration even possible?
HN30.Nguyen Thi Hanh Nhung
Heaney’s observation feels painfully relevant to so many conflicts. It makes me think about how moral authority gets lost when the means of change contradict the intended ends. Can people who rely on violence ever rebuild the trust they destroy in the process? And if trust is essential for progress, does that mean peace movements are inherently more sustainable than those built on fear and coercion?