I was watching TV and saw people with masks, weapons, and

In the turbulent unfolding of history, where the threads of human conflict have often been woven into the fabric of nations, there are moments that make us question the direction of our world. Nadine Labaki, a woman whose art and vision have illuminated the struggles of her people, speaks with profound emotion in her reflection: "I was watching TV and saw people with masks, weapons, and grenades. I thought, Is that really possible? Could we be here yet again? And go into civil war one more time?" Her words speak to the heart of a painful truth: that the shadow of violence and division can return to haunt even the most seemingly stable societies, dragging them back into the abyss of civil conflict.

Labaki’s reflection is not merely one of shock, but of disbelief and despair. To witness the scenes of conflict on a screen, where once again, people are divided by violence, hatred, and the fear of otherness, is to confront the dark reality that humanity is often doomed to repeat its mistakes. The presence of masks, weapons, and grenades on the streets, symbols of warfare and chaos, is a reminder that peace is often fragile, and that the depths of human conflict can be stirred with alarming ease. The question Labaki poses, "Could we be here yet again?", is a cry for understanding, a plea to break the chains of history that bind us to repeated patterns of destruction.

Her words are deeply rooted in the history of Lebanon, a country she knows intimately—a nation that endured a brutal civil war from 1975 to 1990, a conflict that left scars not only on the land, but on the souls of its people. In that war, religious and political factions tore the nation apart, leading to the deaths of thousands and the displacement of many more. The war was not just a military conflict but a war of ideologies, with each side believing that their vision for the future was the only path to peace. The violence was not merely physical; it was also psychological, as trust was broken, and communities were divided. The civil war in Lebanon is a grim reminder that even in the modern age, where we might believe we have transcended the barbarism of the past, the seeds of conflict can still be sown.

Labaki’s question, "Could we go into civil war one more time?", is a reflection of the repetition of human folly. History has shown us time and time again that civil war does not just happen once in a nation’s history—it can return again and again, each time under a different guise. The roots of civil war often lie in the division of a people—whether it be along ethnic, religious, or political lines. In the case of Lebanon, the division of power among various factions, each vying for dominance, became the catalyst for war. This division was compounded by foreign interference, economic collapse, and a lack of communication between the warring parties. The lessons of Lebanon are painfully clear: civil war can arise again when unity is sacrificed for division, when dialogue is abandoned for violence, and when peace is forgotten in favor of power.

Even in the modern world, we see how civil conflicts can arise in the blink of an eye. Take, for example, the Rwandan Genocide of 1994, where deep-seated ethnic divisions between the Hutus and Tutsis led to the massacre of 800,000 people in a matter of months. The world watched in horror as the violence escalated, with families torn apart and communities destroyed. Rwanda’s tragedy was not merely the result of one individual’s actions but of years of division, hatred, and propaganda that had been allowed to fester. It stands as a reminder that even in the contemporary world, civil war can rise from the embers of long-buried conflict when we fail to heal the wounds of the past.

The lesson in Labaki’s question is a call to vigilance. To ask, "Could we be here yet again?" is to remind ourselves that peace is not an automatic gift, nor is it a permanent state. It is something that must be nurtured, protected, and renewed in each generation. In our own lives, we must ask: How do we contribute to peace? Do we build bridges, or do we reinforce walls? Do we seek understanding with those who are different, or do we allow division to cloud our vision? Just as Lebanon and Rwanda were marked by periods of violence and reconciliation, we must ensure that the seeds of peace are planted in our own hearts and communities.

Labaki’s words are a stark reminder that the cost of war is not just in lives lost or cities destroyed, but in the lasting trauma that remains long after the fighting ends. In our world, where global conflicts and civil strife continue to flare, we must not allow ourselves to be complacent. The civil wars of the past must serve as a warning, not as an inevitability. We must learn from history, hold fast to unity, and never forget the fragile nature of peace. Let us strive, in our own lives, to be champions of dialogue, understanding, and forgiveness, so that we may build a world where the question of war is no longer whether it can happen again, but whether it is even possible to fall into such violence again. The world must not be shaped by fear and division, but by hope and unity.