No war is inevitable until it breaks out.

The words of the historian A. J. P. Taylor — “No war is inevitable until it breaks out.” — shine like a lantern upon the illusions of history. For too often men look back upon conflicts and declare them fated, as though destiny had carved them into stone long before the first shot was fired. But Taylor reminds us of a deeper truth: before the outbreak, there are always choices, always crossroads, always moments where wisdom might have prevailed over folly. War is never the decree of fate; it is the work of human hands, born of pride, fear, ambition, and error.

To call war inevitable is to excuse the failures of statesmen, to absolve them of their blindness and their greed. Taylor rejects this. He teaches that wars do not erupt like storms of nature, beyond the control of mortals. They are crafted by decisions, by alliances made and broken, by insults hurled and ignored, by opportunities seized or squandered. Only when the first cannon roars does inevitability appear, for then the path of blood is fixed. Until that moment, there is always a chance for peace, however narrow, however fragile.

History itself bears witness. Consider the years before the First World War. Some now say it was unavoidable, that the rivalries of empires, the clash of ambitions, and the web of alliances doomed Europe to war. Yet there were countless moments where peace could have been preserved — if the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand had been met with restraint, if ultimatums had been tempered, if diplomats had chosen patience over pride. The war was not written in the stars; it was written by men who refused to turn aside from the abyss.

So too before the Second World War. Many declare it was inevitable after the Treaty of Versailles, that Germany’s resentment must one day explode. But inevitability is a cloak thrown over human choices. Different policies, firmer resistance to aggression in its infancy, or wiser reconciliation might have altered the course of history. It was only when armies marched into Poland and guns spoke that inevitability became reality. Until then, peace was battered, but not destroyed.

The meaning of Taylor’s words is therefore a call to responsibility. No war is inevitable until it begins, which means that leaders, nations, and even ordinary people hold the power to prevent it. To declare war fated is to surrender to despair; to believe peace is always possible is to live with vigilance and courage. For the outbreak of war may be swift, but the path to it is paved by many decisions that could have been made differently.

The lesson for us is clear: do not be deceived by the illusion of destiny. When conflict rises in your family, your community, your nation, do not say, “It must be so.” Remember that until the moment of outbreak, there is always a chance to choose another way. Sometimes it may require humility, sometimes courage, sometimes the wisdom to yield ground today to preserve life tomorrow. To believe peace is impossible is to hasten war; to believe it possible is to keep the door open for hope.

What then must we do? In our lives, we must be peacemakers before the breaking point comes. Watch for the seeds of discord before they flower into violence. Speak truth before silence becomes complicity. Act with compassion before anger becomes uncontainable. For in the small struggles of daily life, as in the great struggles of nations, the principle is the same: nothing is inevitable until it happens. To remember this is to arm ourselves not with swords, but with the shield of wisdom and the power of choice.

Thus let Taylor’s words echo across generations: “No war is inevitable until it breaks out.” May we remember them in times of tension, and may they remind us that history is not fate, but the sum of our choices. And if we choose wisely, with courage and humility, we may yet prevent tomorrow’s wars from ever being born.