On the other hand, the waging of peace as a science, as an art

The words of Fredrik Bajer — “On the other hand, the waging of peace as a science, as an art, is in its infancy. But we can trace its growth, its steady progress, and the time will come when there will be particular individuals designated to assume responsibility for and leadership of this movement” — shine like a prophecy from an age still struggling to learn the language of harmony. Spoken by one of the earliest champions of the peace movement, a man who himself labored tirelessly for reconciliation among nations, these words carry both sorrow and hope: sorrow, because humanity has long mastered the art of war, yet stumbled like a child in the art of peace; and hope, because Bajer saw, even in his own century, the first dawn of a world awakening to the possibility that peace, too, can be learned, studied, and led.

In the ancient world, war was considered the natural condition of mankind. Generals were glorified, conquerors deified, and peace seen only as the pause between battles. Humanity perfected the science of destruction, crafting strategies, weapons, and philosophies that turned violence into an institution. Yet Bajer’s insight pierces through that long night of bloodshed: what if we treated peace not as a dream, but as a discipline — not as a sentiment, but as a craft? What if the same intellect that builds cannons could be turned toward building trust? In these words, Bajer calls forth a revolution of the spirit — the idea that peace, like any great art, demands practice, mastery, and leadership.

To wage peace is to labor with the same intensity, the same courage, that others have given to war. It is to face hostility with strategy, to confront hatred with structure, to replace violence not with passivity, but with vision. Bajer himself, a soldier-turned-pacifist, understood this deeply. Having served in the Danish army, he knew the discipline of war — and sought to apply that discipline to the pursuit of peace. He co-founded the Inter-Parliamentary Union, bringing together legislators from rival nations to discuss conflicts through dialogue, not arms. His life was proof of his belief: that peace is not born of weakness, but of organization, education, and courageous leadership. His words foresee a future in which peace will have its own generals — not of armies, but of ideas; not wielding swords, but wielding compassion, reason, and diplomacy.

Consider the example of Mahatma Gandhi, who turned Bajer’s prophecy into living truth. Gandhi treated peace as both a science and an art — studied, deliberate, and disciplined. He understood that nonviolence required more than emotion; it required method. His campaigns of civil disobedience were not spontaneous acts of goodwill, but intricate designs built upon moral philosophy and social organization. He trained his followers as soldiers of the spirit, teaching them endurance, restraint, and the sacred power of truth. In this, Gandhi became what Bajer envisioned — a leader of the movement for peace, not as a bystander but as a strategist, one who proved that peace, when practiced with the rigor of war, can conquer empires.

Through Gandhi and others — Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, and the countless unnamed peacemakers of history — we see Bajer’s vision unfold. Peace has evolved from a mere dream into a living discipline. Universities now study conflict resolution; nations form peacekeeping forces; organizations dedicate their existence to mediation and human rights. The infancy that Bajer spoke of has grown into youth — yet it is still not maturity. For even now, humanity invests far more in preparing for war than in preparing for reconciliation. The science of peace remains undernourished, though its potential to transform the world is boundless.

The lesson of Bajer’s words, therefore, is twofold. First, that peace is not a passive state but an active pursuit. It must be taught, cultivated, and defended with the same passion that humanity has given to battle. And second, that leadership in peace is a sacred calling — one that demands courage, patience, and the willingness to sacrifice comfort for the good of all. Every person, in their sphere, can become one of those “particular individuals designated to assume responsibility” for peace. Parents who teach forgiveness to their children, teachers who foster empathy in the classroom, leaders who choose dialogue over division — all are generals in the unseen army of the just.

Let these words of Bajer be not a relic, but a charge to our generation. To wage peace is to believe in humanity’s higher nature, to refuse the easy path of hatred, and to labor instead for understanding. Learn the science of compassion; practice the art of reconciliation. Study peace as you would study medicine or law — for it, too, is a discipline that heals and governs. And when the world looks again to violence as the answer, remember that the truest strength lies not in destruction, but in creation — in the hands that build, the hearts that forgive, and the voices that lead nations toward harmony.

For the time has indeed come, as Fredrik Bajer foretold, for the leaders of peace to rise. They will not wear armor or command armies, but their courage will be no less great. They will be those who understand that the greatest victory is not over another, but over the endless cycle of hatred itself — and that the art of peace, though still in its infancy, is the destiny of humankind.