My father, who had lost a brother, fighting on the Austrian side

In the annals of human history, there are moments when the veil of suffering and grief becomes a lens through which individuals see the world, and it shapes their philosophies and beliefs for the rest of their lives. Walter Kohn, in his poignant reflection, shares the deeply personal story of his father: "My father, who had lost a brother, fighting on the Austrian side in World War I, was a committed pacifist." These words are not merely an expression of political or moral ideology, but a window into the heart of a man whose personal experience of war’s brutal toll led him to a belief that would guide his actions and thoughts for the rest of his life. Through the lens of this personal loss, pacifism became not an abstract theory, but a way of life, shaped by the pain of war and the devastation it brought to his family.

World War I, known as "The Great War," was a cataclysm that tore through the European landscape, leaving millions dead and countless others maimed, both physically and emotionally. For the families of soldiers, the loss was not only measured in the absence of loved ones but in the destruction of entire ways of life. Kohn’s father, having lost a brother in the conflict, was not alone in his grief, for countless families across the world had faced similar losses. Yet, for him, this loss led to a deep conviction that the destruction wrought by war was not worth the cost—not in terms of human lives, not in terms of the broken bodies, nor in the irreversible psychological toll that soldiers would carry with them for the rest of their lives.

The very essence of pacifism, as embraced by Kohn’s father, speaks to the wisdom of seeing war not through the lens of glory or honor, but through the undeniable truth of the pain and devastation it leaves behind. The great philosophers of ancient times understood this. Socrates, though he was no stranger to the battlefield, lived much of his life in the pursuit of peace and wisdom rather than glory or military conquest. He famously argued that it is better to suffer wrong than to inflict it, for in the act of inflicting harm, one corrupts the very soul. In the same way, Kohn’s father, shaped by his personal grief, saw war not as a means of achieving justice or glory, but as a tragic failure of humanity, where no one truly emerges unscathed.

In every era, there have been those who, like Kohn’s father, have seen the reality of war and chosen the path of non-violence. Gandhi, a leader revered for his commitment to nonviolent resistance, was inspired by his own experiences of suffering and loss. Having witnessed the brutal effects of British colonialism on his people in India, Gandhi's pacifism was not an abstract principle but a personal and moral choice to oppose violence with peace, to answer hatred with love. His belief in the power of peace was not a denial of the pain caused by conflict but a refusal to allow that pain to define the future. Similarly, Kohn’s father, through his own devastating loss, recognized that war could never lead to a lasting solution but only to more pain, more suffering, and more loss.

In ancient Rome, where the glory of war was often immortalized in the great stories of victory and empire-building, there were also voices that spoke out against the destructiveness of battle. The Roman Stoics, like Epictetus and Seneca, believed that true strength was not found in military conquest but in inner peace and the mastery of one’s desires. Seneca wrote extensively on the futility of violence and the importance of tranquility, often warning against the dangers of unchecked power and the emotional costs of war. These ancient philosophers understood, just as Kohn’s father did, that peace is not merely the absence of conflict but the active cultivation of wisdom, understanding, and forgiveness.

The lesson we draw from Kohn’s father is one of profound humanity and moral clarity. In the face of unspeakable loss, he chose not to perpetuate the cycle of violence but to stand firmly in the belief that there must be another way—a way of peace that does not ignore the pain of the past but acknowledges it, learns from it, and seeks to create a future where violence is not the answer. His life teaches us that peace is not the easy or convenient choice, but the right one. In our own lives, whether in personal relationships, political discourse, or international conflicts, we must be willing to ask ourselves: What is the true cost of violence? What is the legacy we wish to leave for future generations?

In times of global conflict and personal struggle, the example of Kohn’s father calls us to reflect deeply on the values that guide us. Pacifism, as taught by those who have experienced the devastation of war, is not a naïve rejection of reality, but a commitment to something higher—to understanding, to human dignity, and to the belief that peace is not just a dream, but a necessity. Let us take this lesson to heart, as we face the challenges of our time, and let it guide us in choosing not the path of war, but the path of wisdom, healing, and reconciliation. For in the end, it is peace that truly honors the sacrifices of those who have suffered, and it is peace that can lead us toward a brighter and more hopeful future.