There is a difference between myself and some of the peace

“There is a difference between myself and some of the peace people in Europe: whereas they think that the ultimate evil in the world is war, I think the ultimate evil in the world is aggression, and aggression sometimes must be repelled by force.” Thus spoke Amos Oz, the great Israeli writer, a man born into a land of conflict, whose pen carried both the yearning for peace and the sober recognition of the darker realities of human life. His words cut like a sword of reason through the fog of wishful thinking, proclaiming that while war is indeed terrible, it is not always the deepest evil—for there are times when to refuse to fight is to surrender to the hand of the aggressor.

The ancients understood this distinction. To them, war was not always the enemy, but the servant of justice when wielded rightly. The Romans, for all their flaws, spoke of the bellum justum—the “just war,” fought not for conquest but for defense against those who threatened the innocent. In the Hebrew Scriptures too, there is this truth: the people of Israel were commanded to pursue peace, but when invaders sought their destruction, they were called to stand, to resist, to guard their homes. So too does Oz remind us that to name war as the “ultimate evil” is to forget that sometimes the refusal to resist is itself a kind of surrender to evil.

Consider the story of World War II. Many in Europe, weary from the blood of the Great War, clung desperately to peace at any price. They sought to appease Hitler, to sign treaties, to speak of reconciliation. Yet their silence only emboldened him. It was not until nations rose with force—Britain standing firm, America entering the fight, the resistance burning across Europe—that aggression was finally broken. If the world had held peace as the highest good, and refused to fight, tyranny would have reigned unchallenged. Oz’s words point directly to such lessons: aggression must sometimes be answered, lest the innocent be devoured.

This is not a celebration of violence. Oz was himself a man of peace, a dreamer of reconciliation, a believer in dialogue between Israel and Palestine. But he knew that peace is not made by ignoring aggression; it is made by confronting it, resisting it, and only then opening the door to true reconciliation. For what peace can be built upon surrender to the aggressor? That is not peace, but submission; not harmony, but silence under the conqueror’s boot.

The meaning of his words, then, is balance: to yearn for peace, but never to mistake cowardice for peace. To hate war, but to hate aggression more. To long for reconciliation, but to know that reconciliation must be built on justice, not on fear. This is a harder teaching than the simple cry of “no more war,” but it is a wiser one. For it teaches us to see evil clearly, and to resist it when necessary, even at great cost.

The lesson for us is this: when we see aggression—whether in nations, in communities, or even in our own lives—we must not close our eyes and call it peace. We must resist. Sometimes this resistance is with words, sometimes with steadfast courage, sometimes, tragically, with force. But always it must be rooted in the defense of justice and the protection of the innocent. True peace cannot exist where aggression rules unchallenged.

Practical wisdom follows: be a seeker of peace, but not a servant of appeasement. In your personal life, do not confuse avoidance of conflict with true reconciliation; confront wrongdoing with honesty, even if it is painful. In the life of nations, support peace efforts built on justice, but do not shrink from the strength required to repel aggression. In all things, hold both truths together: that war is terrible, but that unchecked aggression is worse.

So let the words of Amos Oz endure: “The ultimate evil is aggression.” O children of tomorrow, learn from him: do not glorify war, but do not worship peace at the price of justice. For there are times when only by resisting aggression—firmly, even fiercely—can we create the space in which true peace, enduring and righteous, may finally grow.