I think that the Cold War was an exceptional and unnecessary
In the annals of human history, there are moments that stand out not for the grandeur of their victories, but for the immense suffering they inflicted upon the world. Jane Smiley, in her candid reflection, declared, "I think that the Cold War was an exceptional and unnecessary piece of cruelty." These words, though simple, carry within them a profound wisdom about the human condition and the costs of political strife. The Cold War, spanning nearly half a century, was a conflict of ideologies, a clash between East and West, between freedom and communism, yet Smiley's words point to a truth that is often lost in the grand narratives of power and domination: that this prolonged standoff, despite its profound global implications, was in many ways a tragic and avoidable chapter in the history of mankind.
The Cold War was not a war in the traditional sense—there were no massive battles, no direct confrontations between the superpowers of the United States and the Soviet Union. Instead, it was a war of suspicion, of fear, and of proxy conflicts. Nations around the world were torn apart by the struggle between two ideologies, each claiming to offer salvation, each claiming to represent the future of humanity. The arms race, the building of nuclear arsenals, the constant threat of mutual destruction—these were the hallmarks of the Cold War. And yet, as Smiley points out, this war was not one of necessity; it was a war born of fear and misunderstanding, and it exacted a toll far beyond what was justified by the stakes.
Think of the Berlin Wall, a physical manifestation of the Cold War’s cruelty. Erected in 1961, it divided not just a city but a people, severing families, friends, and communities. For nearly three decades, the wall stood as a symbol of division, a reminder of the psychological and emotional scars left by the Cold War. Those who sought freedom, who longed for reunification with loved ones on the other side, were trapped in a cruel game played by nations that saw the world as a chessboard. In the name of ideology, human lives were caught in the crossfire, innocent people made pawns in a struggle between great powers that had long ago ceased to care about the cost to individual lives.
It is this cruelty—this suffering, caused not by the direct force of arms, but by the invisible walls of fear, suspicion, and propaganda—that Smiley condemns. The Cold War was not a necessary evil but an evil born of human pride, hubris, and misguided leadership. The Vietnam War, the Korean War, the Cuban Missile Crisis, and countless other conflicts were all fueled by the undercurrent of the Cold War, each one leaving behind scars that would take decades to heal. The billions spent on nuclear weapons and the endless race for military dominance were not spent on building bridges, on fostering understanding, or on alleviating the suffering of the poor and the oppressed. Instead, they were spent in a deadly game of one-upmanship, each side seeking to outdo the other without ever fully understanding the human cost of their actions.
Consider the story of Nikita Khrushchev, the Soviet leader who, at the height of the Cold War, faced down President John F. Kennedy during the Cuban Missile Crisis. In those tense days of October 1962, the world teetered on the brink of nuclear war. The leaders of the superpowers were locked in a dangerous game of brinkmanship, each one believing that strength could force the other to submit. Yet, amid the posturing and threats, the human cost was all too apparent. The fear that gripped the world—especially the people of Cuba, who were caught in the middle of this conflict—was not a necessary part of the struggle. It was a product of the insatiable drive for power and control, a desire to be the strongest, to defeat the other, no matter the cost.
From Smiley’s reflection, we learn a timeless and painful truth: that war, even when it is fought through diplomacy or subtle power plays, is ultimately a reflection of human failure—a failure to communicate, to empathize, and to see beyond our differences. The Cold War was not the inevitable clash of ideologies; it was a self-inflicted wound, a wound that caused immense suffering not only for the nations directly involved but for millions who were caught in the crossfire. It is a reminder that when we allow fear and pride to govern our actions, we create conditions where compromise is impossible and humanity is sacrificed in the name of nationalism or ideology.
So, what lesson do we take from this? The Cold War is a testament to the destructive potential of fear and misunderstanding. It teaches us that in our dealings with others—whether as individuals, nations, or cultures—we must strive for understanding, dialogue, and compassion rather than domination or fear. If the Cold War proved anything, it is that no victory, no matter how hard-won, can justify the suffering it causes. As we move forward, let us remember that true power lies not in the ability to intimidate or control, but in the ability to listen, to understand, and to act with wisdom and mercy. Only through these virtues can we hope to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past and build a world where peace is not just the absence of war, but the presence of justice, unity, and compassion for all.
BTNguyen Ngoc Bang Tam
This quote raises an unsettling point: cruelty doesn’t always require bloodshed. The Cold War was fought through psychological warfare, economic strangulation, and mutual dehumanization. Smiley’s framing turns a historical period into an ethical indictment. It makes me question whether the lesson was ever learned. Are today’s global rivalries—fought through sanctions, disinformation, and cyber tactics—simply a rebranded version of that same unnecessary cruelty?
DLd l
What stands out to me is Smiley’s emotional clarity. The Cold War’s cruelty wasn’t only in weapons or espionage—it was in the fear it normalized. Families built bomb shelters; children practiced duck-and-cover drills; artists and intellectuals were silenced. The war may have been ‘cold,’ but its chill ran deep through human relationships and culture. I’d like to hear how those emotional scars still influence political psychology today.
HThong thai
I find this observation both bold and compassionate. Calling the Cold War ‘unnecessary’ challenges the dominant narrative that it was a necessary evil to contain communism. Yet, it’s hard to ignore the realpolitik of the time—the power vacuums, the mistrust, the propaganda machines. Was cruelty a byproduct of circumstance or a deliberate strategy of control? The question pushes me to rethink how moral hindsight reshapes our interpretation of strategic necessity.
HNSon Hai Nguyen
This statement makes me think about the invisible casualties of the Cold War—the millions who lived under constant nuclear anxiety, censorship, or proxy violence. Smiley’s use of ‘cruelty’ reframes the conflict not as a geopolitical inevitability but as a moral failure. Could cooperation have replaced confrontation if leaders had been less trapped by ideology? I wonder how different the 20th century might have been if empathy, not fear, guided policy.
PRpeach ruby
As a reader, this quote feels like a moral summation of an era defined by paranoia. Smiley’s phrasing—‘exceptional and unnecessary’—cuts through decades of ideological justification. It reminds me that the Cold War, though bloodless in parts, inflicted profound psychological and social harm through fear, propaganda, and repression. I’d like to explore whether deterrence truly required such cruelty, or if mutual insecurity simply fed itself in a loop of self-justifying hostility.