So long as there is imperialism in the world, a permanent peace

"So long as there is imperialism in the world, a permanent peace is impossible." Thus spoke Hassan Nasrallah, and in his words resounds a cry that echoes across the centuries, from the fall of empires to the struggles of nations yet unborn. For what is imperialism but the hand of the strong grasping the neck of the weak, declaring dominion not by right but by force? And what is peace but a dream that withers when one people thrives upon the subjugation of another? To chain a nation and call it order is no different than to bury a man alive and call it sleep.

The ancients knew this truth well. When Alexander marched eastward, carrying the banners of Greece into Persia, India, and beyond, he proclaimed the unification of the world. Yet behind his words lay conquest, behind his vision lay plunder. His so-called peace was the silence of conquered lands, the hush of tongues cut off by the sword. His empire, though vast, did not endure, for no dominion carved by greed can stand eternal. Imperialism wears a crown of gold, but beneath it beats the heart of unrest, for those who are crushed will always rise again.

Look, too, to the last century, when the world was divided among empires that claimed to bring civilization. The British in India, the French in Algeria, the Belgians in Congo—they all draped themselves in the noble word of progress, yet rivers of blood flowed beneath their banners. When the sun never set on the British Empire, it also never set on the misery of the colonized. And when Gandhi raised his frail voice against the might of Britain, it was not merely a struggle for India—it was a struggle to prove that peace cannot coexist with imperialism. The master cannot have peace while the slave is in chains, for the slave’s cry pierces heaven, and heaven answers in rebellion.

Hear also the story of Vietnam, a small land against mighty invaders. First against the French, then against the Americans, its soil drank the blood of countless sons and daughters. And yet, from that suffering arose the proof that imperialism cannot extinguish the fire of freedom. Villages bombed to ashes still gave birth to resistance; a people crushed still found the will to rise. Was there peace in those years? No, for the invader sought dominion, and so long as conquest breathes, the world cannot rest.

Children of the future, mark this truth: imperialism is the enemy of peace. One nation’s greed, one empire’s hunger, destroys the harmony of the earth. To believe that true peace can come while others are exploited is to build a house upon shifting sand. Peace that ignores oppression is a lie, a stillness before the storm. Real peace must be born of equality, where nations meet as brothers, not as master and servant.

What, then, shall be your part? Do not be deceived when power cloaks itself in noble words. Question when leaders promise order but build it upon domination. Stand with those who are silenced, for their struggle is your own, though distance may divide you. Resist the allure of easy comfort purchased at the suffering of others. Even in the small affairs of your life, let no trace of imperialism guide your hand—whether in how you treat your neighbor, or in how your nation treats the world.

Practical action lies close at hand: seek justice before calm, fairness before silence. Lend your voice to the oppressed, and teach your children that peace is not the absence of war, but the presence of righteousness. If you are strong, let your strength protect, not dominate. If you are weak, let your courage resist, not surrender. For the world will know no permanent peace until the shadow of imperialism is cast out from among the nations.

And this is the lesson to be carried forward: imperialism breeds endless conflict, but the dream of humanity is not conquest—it is brotherhood. Only when the strong cease to devour the weak will the earth rest in harmony. Therefore, let your lives become a shield for justice, a song for freedom, and a seed for a peace that endures like the mountains, untouched by the storms of oppression.