Germany was beaten after World War I, but it didn't take long

Hear, O children of history, the words of Monica Crowley, who declared: “Germany was beaten after World War I, but it didn’t take long for it to rise again as a much more malignant threat. The end of World War II was not to be a compromise; it was to come about from the total annihilation of the enemies’ ability and will to make war.” In this fierce statement, she draws a lesson from the blood of the twentieth century: that evil, when only wounded, may heal and grow more dangerous, but when broken utterly, may at last be silenced.

After World War I, Germany lay prostrate, humiliated by the Treaty of Versailles. Its armies were disbanded, its lands divided, its pride shattered. Yet, Crowley reminds us, the defeat was incomplete. The people’s bodies were subdued, but their hearts burned with resentment. From that fire rose the malignancy of Nazism, fiercer and darker than the empire that had preceded it. Thus, the compromise of 1918 planted the seeds of 1939. History’s lesson is stark: to half-crush evil is to leave it fertile ground for rebirth.

By contrast, the victors of World War II pursued a different course. They did not seek only to sign treaties and shift borders; they sought to eradicate the ability and the will of their enemies to wage war again. The destruction of Berlin, the surrender of Tokyo, the trials of Nuremberg—these were not half-measures. They were meant to break the machinery of tyranny and to sear into memory the price of aggression. Unlike the first war, the second did not end in compromise, but in annihilation of militarism itself.

Consider the story of Japan. After its surrender in 1945, its imperial dreams were shattered, its armed forces dissolved, its society rebuilt upon new foundations. Within decades, it rose not as a conqueror but as a builder, channeling its genius into technology, commerce, and culture. Here we see the paradox: destruction paved the way for rebirth, but a rebirth in peace. This is the truth Crowley points toward: only when the will to war is utterly extinguished can the will to peace be born anew.

This principle echoes through the ages. When Rome destroyed Carthage after the Third Punic War, it ensured that the ancient rival would never again rise to threaten it. Ruthless though it was, Rome believed that only through total destruction could security be won. In the same way, the Allies of 1945 understood that another “peace with honor” would only plant the seeds for an even deadlier conflict. Thus, they chose finality, not compromise.

But Crowley’s warning extends beyond battlefields. In life, too, there are evils that cannot be appeased, only eradicated. Hatreds, addictions, corruptions of the soul—if left half-fought, they will return stronger. One cannot merely wound them and hope they fade; one must destroy their power at the root. This requires not only force, but courage, discipline, and vision for what peace must follow.

Therefore, O seekers, learn this lesson from the ashes of the past: do not fight half-heartedly against what endangers the soul or the world. When you battle falsehood, do not leave it lingering; when you confront injustice, do not settle for compromise with evil; when you war against weakness within yourself, strike until it cannot rise again. For only total victory over darkness can open the way for light to endure.

So remember Crowley’s wisdom: the first great war ended with compromise, and the world was plunged into an even greater darkness. The second ended with total defeat of tyranny, and from that ruin came renewal. In every battle worth fighting, seek not to appease, but to end—and from the end, let new beginnings grow.