In our quest for peace, we should constantly ask ourselves what

Hear the solemn wisdom of F. W. de Klerk, who uttered: “In our quest for peace, we should constantly ask ourselves what we should do to create conditions in which peace can prosper.” These words were spoken not in idle reflection, but in the crucible of history, in a land torn by division and scarred by injustice. They echo with the eternal truth that peace does not simply descend upon men like the morning dew—it must be cultivated, guarded, and given roots deep within the soil of human hearts.

For what is peace but the highest ambition of humankind? Nations rise and fall upon its presence or its absence. It is not merely the silence of guns, nor the pause between battles; it is the harmony of peoples, the joining of voices once opposed, the flourishing of life without fear. De Klerk, who stood at the threshold of a new South Africa, knew that to seek peace was not enough. One must ask, again and again: what shall we do? What shall we build? What sacrifices shall we make to prepare the ground where peace may take root and endure?

Consider the tale of Emperor Ashoka of India. Once a conqueror drenched in blood, he saw the horror he had wrought at Kalinga, where tens of thousands lay slain. In that hour, remorse struck him, and he resolved to forsake the sword. But he did not merely renounce violence; he turned to the labor of creating conditions in which peace could prosper. He spread the teachings of compassion, built roads and hospitals, planted trees along the highways. His empire was not transformed by mere words, but by the deliberate shaping of life so that harmony could endure. Thus do we see that peace requires more than desire—it requires structure, choice, and unceasing action.

De Klerk himself, in dismantling the system of apartheid, bore witness to this truth. It was not enough to say that peace should reign; the very foundations of injustice had to be broken. Laws had to be repealed, prisoners set free, enemies brought to the table to speak as equals. The soil of peace cannot be poisoned with oppression, for then even the noblest dreams wither. Only when the conditions were changed—when dignity was restored—could peace find room to blossom.

O children of the future, take heed: peace is not passive. It is a fire tended with vigilance. Just as a farmer must till the land, water the fields, and pull up the weeds, so too must we labor ceaselessly to nourish the spirit of reconciliation. Ask yourself not only what you desire, but what you must do. What walls must be torn down? What words must be spoken in humility? What bitterness must be laid aside so that trust may grow? Without such actions, peace remains a mirage shimmering on the horizon, never reached.

The lesson of this teaching is clear: do not wait for peace to arrive as a gift, but prepare the way for it with your own hands. In your family, sow understanding; in your friendships, foster forgiveness; in your community, build fairness and respect. When you find conflict, do not merely hope it will end—ask yourself what you can do to make space for harmony to live. Every act of kindness, every effort at justice, every choice of mercy over vengeance—these are the stones that pave the road of peace.

Therefore, let these words be engraved upon your heart: the quest for peace is not a single moment but a lifelong journey. To be a keeper of peace is to be a builder, a gardener, a guardian. Constantly ask yourself what conditions you are creating in your life and in your world. Are they fit for peace to flourish, or do they still harbor shadows where discord breeds? Shape your choices, your actions, your very soul, so that peace may not only visit but dwell among you.

Thus the teaching of F. W. de Klerk shines forth: peace must be prepared, nurtured, and made to prosper. Go forth, then, and build the conditions in which peace may live forever.