Take away the violence and who will hear the men of peace?

"Take away the violence and who will hear the men of peace?" These words, spoken by the brilliant playwright Lorraine Hansberry, strike at the heart of a profound and unsettling truth: peace cannot be understood without the contrasting presence of violence, and in many ways, violence becomes the catalyst that allows the voices of peace to be heard. Hansberry’s statement challenges us to think about the complex interplay between the forces of destruction and creation, between the chaos of war and the serenity of peace. Without violence, those who advocate for peace may never have the platform to speak, for it is often through the anguish of conflict that the need for peace is most powerfully felt and understood.

The ancient Greeks grappled with this duality, particularly in their stories of war and peace. Homer’s Iliad is a powerful example of this paradox, where the violence of war becomes the crucible in which the very nature of peace and honor is tested. Achilles, the great warrior, is consumed by rage and bloodshed, yet it is his encounter with the death of his closest friend, Patroclus, that forces him to confront the futility of violence. In the face of loss, Achilles is driven to seek a resolution, a way to restore honor and peace. The violence of war, in this sense, becomes the driving force that compels him to search for meaning, to seek a peace that can be achieved only after the destruction has played out its course. Hansberry’s words reflect this tragic truth—sometimes, only after the chaos of war can the voices of those advocating for peace find their audience.

The Romans, too, understood the fragile relationship between peace and violence. Caesar Augustus, after years of civil strife and war, ushered in the Pax Romana, a long period of peace across the Roman Empire. Yet, this peace was not won through diplomacy alone; it was secured through the military might that had established the empire in the first place. Augustus’ rule was a delicate balance between war and peace, recognizing that violence and conquest had paved the way for the peace that would follow. In a way, Hansberry’s insight into the need for violence to make peace visible echoes in this historical reality—peace may be desired, but it often comes at the end of great suffering, after the toll of war has made its lessons painfully clear.

In modern history, the civil rights struggle in the United States offers another poignant example. The violence of oppression that African Americans faced—from slavery to segregation—was a daily reminder of the need for justice and peace. Figures like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who advocated for nonviolent resistance, understood that the violence of the system would not be overcome through silence, but through a movement that spoke louder than the violence itself. Dr. King’s speeches and actions did not occur in a vacuum; they were responses to the rampant brutality that marked the American South. His advocacy for peace and equality was only amplified by the injustices around him, making his voice more powerful, more necessary. Without the violent oppression, his call for peace might not have carried the same weight, and the world might not have recognized the urgent need for change.

Hansberry’s quote also speaks to a deeper question: can peace be truly understood in the absence of suffering? The great suffering of humanity—the wars, the injustices, the poverty, the oppression—often drives people to seek peace as a solution. Without the violence of injustice, would the cry for freedom and equality resonate as powerfully? The great movements for peace in history often arose from the depths of human pain, from the need to overcome the barriers of hatred and division. **We need only look to the life of Mahatma Gandhi, who understood that the struggle for Indian independence was not just a political battle but a moral one. His nonviolent resistance was a direct response to the violence of colonial rule. Without the injustices of British oppression, the world might never have seen the power of nonviolent resistance. Gandhi’s success was not in avoiding violence altogether, but in recognizing that the violence of the British Empire had created a space for his call for peace to resonate far beyond the borders of India.

The lesson that we can take from Hansberry’s words is both profound and challenging: peace cannot be fully understood without recognizing the presence of violence. In our own lives, we may seek peace—whether in our relationships, communities, or world—but we must not forget that the pursuit of peace often arises from the ashes of conflict. We must confront the forces of violence—whether physical, emotional, or psychological—that threaten to destabilize our lives and our world. Only by understanding the full weight of violence can we truly appreciate the profound importance of peace.

In practical terms, Hansberry’s insight calls on us to speak out against injustice and to recognize the forces that fuel conflict in our own time. It is not enough to hope for peace without recognizing the injustices and violences that prevent it. We must be vocal in our resistance to violence, and at the same time, work toward building peace in a world where conflict still runs rampant. Just as Dr. King or Gandhi found their voices through the pain of the moment, so must we seek to build a future where peace is not an abstract concept, but a living, breathing reality. In this journey, may we learn not just the cost of violence, but the power of peace, found through understanding, action, and the collective will to heal the wounds of the world.