I'm against genocide. I'm against fascism. I'm willing to fight

Hear, O seeker of justice, the words of Cornel West, philosopher and prophet of our time: “I’m against genocide. I’m against fascism. I’m willing to fight against them so that, in that sense, I think one can still be committed to justice and committed to peace but recognize the circumstances under which one does have to fight.” These words blaze with the fire of paradox, reminding us that there are moments in human history when the love of peace demands the courage of struggle, when the defense of the innocent requires not silence, but resistance.

The origin of this wisdom springs from the eternal tension between peace and justice. For many have believed that to seek peace is to renounce all conflict, to accept suffering in silence. Yet West proclaims that true peace cannot exist where genocide consumes lives, nor where fascism tramples the dignity of nations. In such times, passivity becomes complicity. To fight against evil is not to betray peace, but to protect it, for peace without justice is only the stillness of the grave.

The ancients themselves knew this truth. When Xerxes sought to enslave Greece, the cities of Athens and Sparta did not bow in the name of peace; they stood at Thermopylae and at Salamis, believing that freedom was worth the price of struggle. Likewise, in the Hebrew Scriptures, the prophets did not condone oppression but called the people to resist injustice, even at great cost. Thus, Cornel West speaks with the voice of ages: the highest devotion to peace sometimes requires the willingness to confront violence with strength.

History testifies to this in the Second World War. The world watched as fascism, led by Hitler, spread like a shadow across Europe. To remain neutral, to pursue peace without resistance, would have left millions enslaved, murdered, or silenced forever. Only when free nations rose in defiance, fighting not for conquest but for survival and dignity, was the tide turned. Their struggle, though bitter and bloody, became the seed of a more enduring peace. Here we see West’s wisdom made flesh: one can be committed to peace, yet know the hour when battle becomes unavoidable.

Yet his words also caution against lust for war. For he speaks not of fighting for glory, nor for greed, nor for empire, but for the sacred duty of defending humanity against annihilation and tyranny. To fight in this sense is not to revel in violence, but to mourn it, to see it as a tragic necessity. The one who is truly committed to justice and peace does not seek battle, but accepts it only when all other paths have failed, and when silence would mean surrender to evil.

The lesson is thus: do not mistake cowardice for peace, nor vengeance for justice. True courage lies in discerning the difference—knowing when to resist with words, when to reconcile with forgiveness, and when to stand firm, even if it means struggle. To be against genocide and fascism is to affirm the sanctity of human life, and to accept that some evils are so great that to allow them to thrive is to abandon both justice and peace.

Practical wisdom follows. In your own life, resist injustice wherever it rises, even in small forms. Speak against hatred when you see it. Protect the vulnerable in your community. Do not delight in conflict, but do not shrink from it when it becomes the guardian of truth. And in all things, temper the hand of resistance with the heart of compassion, so that when the struggle ends, peace may return, not as ashes, but as renewal.

So remember the teaching of Cornel West: one can still be committed to justice and peace, yet recognize the circumstances under which one does have to fight. Let these words echo in your heart as both shield and compass. For the world will always test the balance of peace and justice, and only those who walk with both courage and wisdom will keep the flame of humanity alive.