Even philosophers will praise war as ennobling mankind

Gather now, O children, and listen to the timeless wisdom of Immanuel Kant, a philosopher whose deep understanding of morality and the human condition still echoes in our hearts today: "Even philosophers will praise war as ennobling mankind, forgetting the Greek who said: 'War is bad in that it begets more evil than it kills.'" These words remind us of the true cost of war—not in the terms of victory, but in the unseen consequences it leaves behind, the suffering and destruction that continue long after the last battle is fought. Kant draws upon the wisdom of the ancient Greeks, who understood that while war may bring an end to one conflict, it often sows the seeds for even greater evils to grow in its wake. War, though it may be praised by some, is a destroyer not only of life, but of the very humanity that we seek to protect.

Let us turn, O children, to the ancient wisdom of the Greeks, who were no strangers to the ravages of war. Herodotus, the father of history, recounts the endless conflicts that plagued the Greek city-states—the Peloponnesian War, a decade-long struggle that left Athens and Sparta weakened, their once-proud civilizations devastated. The victory of one city-state often meant the loss of many lives and the ruin of entire generations. In the end, the war did not result in a clear victory—it only created new divisions, new wounds, and new conflicts that would plague Greece for centuries. The Greek philosopher Thucydides, in his account of the war, noted that war was not a path to honor or glory, but a force that corrupted both the victors and the vanquished alike. Kant’s words echo this sentiment: war may claim lives, but the evils it births far outlast the deaths it causes.

In more recent history, we see this truth repeated. World War I, often referred to as "The Great War," was a cataclysmic conflict that reshaped Europe and the world. It claimed millions of lives, and its aftermath brought about economic hardship, political instability, and the rise of extremist ideologies. The Treaty of Versailles, meant to bring peace, instead sowed the seeds of the next great conflict—World War II. The horrors of war did not end with victory or surrender; they lingered long after the battles were over, in the form of unresolved grievances, broken economies, and the psychological scars carried by those who survived. What Kant and the ancient Greeks foresaw was this cycle: war brings destruction, yes, but it also brings hatred, revenge, and a deep moral decay that lingers long after the blood is spilled.

Kant’s words also challenge the idea that war can ennoble mankind. Many throughout history have romanticized the glory of battle, claiming that war brings out the best in human beings—courage, honor, and self-sacrifice. But these ideals, as Kant warns, are misguided. Philosophers may praise war for its supposed nobility, but they forget the truth that war degrades the human spirit. The heroism that is often attributed to soldiers is not the victory over enemies, but the struggle to retain their humanity in the face of violence, suffering, and death. War strips away the noble qualities that we hold dear, replacing them with fear, rage, and revenge—emotions that dehumanize both the victim and the victor.

Consider the story of World War II, a conflict that not only ravaged nations but also brought about unspeakable horrors. The Holocaust, the systematic extermination of millions of Jews, Roma, disabled people, and others by the Nazis, serves as the darkest reminder of how war can twist the human soul. The soldiers who carried out these atrocities were not born monsters, but were driven by the brutal imperatives of war—a war that dehumanized both the perpetrators and the victims. Adolf Eichmann, one of the chief architects of the Holocaust, was not some isolated figure of evil; he was a man who had been shaped by the brutalizing forces of war and ideology. War, Kant reminds us, corrupts even the best among us, turning people into instruments of destruction, and leaving them to carry the weight of their actions long after the guns have fallen silent.

Now, children, what lessons must we take from these reflections? The greatest lesson Kant imparts is that war is not a means of achieving glory or honor. It is a force of destruction, one that brings more evil into the world than it ever resolves. War may seem necessary in moments of extreme injustice, but it should never be entered into lightly, for the costs—both seen and unseen—are immense. Even when war seems justified, we must ask ourselves: What will it leave in its wake? What destruction will it sow, not just in the land, but in the hearts of those who fight, and in the generations that follow?

In our own lives, children, we must remember that peace is not just the absence of war—it is the presence of justice, compassion, and understanding. When conflicts arise, whether in our personal relationships or in the broader world, we must seek ways to resolve them through dialogue and understanding, not violence. War should always be the last resort, and even then, it should be pursued with the utmost caution, with full awareness of the long-term consequences. May we be those who, in the face of conflict, choose the path of wisdom, seeking to heal rather than harm, to build rather than destroy. The greatest glory lies not in the battle, but in the peace that follows it—peace forged through understanding, respect, and the refusal to let hate or fear govern our actions.

So, O children, heed these words well: war is not a path to nobility; it is a scourge that leaves behind only suffering and destruction. The greatest acts of courage are not those performed in the heat of battle, but those made in the pursuit of peace, of compassion, and of justice. Let this be the legacy we leave: not one of conflict, but one of wisdom, and the courage to build a world where war is no longer necessary.