I do not support peace in the Middle East. And I do not support

Muammar al-Gaddafi, the fiery and unpredictable ruler of Libya, once thundered these words: “I do not support peace in the Middle East. And I do not support Arafat. He is a stupid, incompetent fool!” To the ears of many, this declaration sounded like madness, a rejection of peace itself. But when studied as one studies the cryptic sayings of the ancients, we see beneath the insult and fury a window into the heart of power, rivalry, and the struggle for recognition. For Gaddafi’s voice was never one of moderation; it was the cry of a man who desired to be seen as a revolutionary leader, not a follower. His rejection of peace was not a love of war, but a disdain for settlements he believed were weak, dishonest, or dishonorable.

To understand these words, one must remember the stage upon which they were spoken. The Middle East in the late twentieth century was a battlefield of ideals and power. Yasser Arafat, leader of the Palestinian cause, sought recognition through diplomacy, compromise, and negotiation with Israel. But to Gaddafi, this was a betrayal of revolutionary zeal. He saw Arafat as bending before foreign powers, as surrendering the sword of resistance for the empty cup of treaties. Thus, his words — harsh, insulting, venomous — reflect not only personal disdain but the eternal conflict between warriors who see compromise as weakness and statesmen who see it as survival.

The ancients often spoke of such leaders. In Homer’s Iliad, Achilles rages against Agamemnon, not only out of personal insult but out of contempt for a leader he deemed unworthy. Such disputes, clothed in anger, reveal deeper truths about human ambition: that the fiercest rivalries are not always between nations, but within those who claim to lead the same cause. Gaddafi’s disdain for Arafat mirrors this ancient pattern. For he too wished to be the central figure of the Arab struggle, and could not bear to see another sit in the seat of honor.

History shows us that such clashes of ego have shaped destinies. Consider the rivalry between Trotsky and Stalin after Lenin’s death. Trotsky, fiery and brilliant, sought to carry the banner of permanent revolution. Stalin, pragmatic and cunning, turned to consolidation and control. Their struggle was not merely personal; it was the struggle of two visions. And the outcome shaped the fate of millions. In the same way, Gaddafi and Arafat embodied two opposing visions of the Palestinian and Arab cause — one of uncompromising militancy, the other of diplomacy and compromise.

Yet, children of wisdom, do not be deceived by the noise of insults and the fire of rage. Gaddafi’s dismissal of peace must be understood as both a critique and a warning. For peace that is built without justice, without equality, without dignity, is but a fragile illusion. He may have been reckless in words, but beneath them lies the ancient truth: that peace imposed without fairness will never last. And yet, by scorning compromise entirely, Gaddafi himself revealed the danger of extremity — for endless war yields only endless suffering. Thus, we see the lesson of balance: peace must be built with honor, but war must not be clung to for pride.

What then shall we learn? That leaders who insult one another may serve only their own egos, but those who remember the people, the widows, the orphans, the displaced, must seek a higher path. The incompetence Gaddafi saw in Arafat was perhaps only the courage to negotiate; the foolishness he mocked was perhaps the wisdom to preserve lives. In this paradox we find the riddle of politics: what one calls weakness, another calls strength.

Therefore, let the lesson for you be this: when judging leaders or movements, do not be swayed by their fury, their insults, or their boasts. Look instead at the fruit of their actions. Did they bring dignity to the people? Did they bring justice closer, or did they only inflame pride? In your own life, beware of scorning peace as weakness, but also beware of accepting peace that is hollow. Seek always the balance — a peace rooted in justice, a strength tempered by compassion. For only there does true wisdom dwell.

So let it be remembered: peace without justice is fragile, but war without end is ruin. Gaddafi’s words, though clothed in anger, remind us of the ancient tension between these truths. Learn from both sides — from the fire of the uncompromising and the patience of the diplomat — and you shall walk the path of discernment, which alone leads to lasting harmony.