War can only be abolished through war, and in order to get rid

The revolutionary leader Mao Zedong, forged in the furnace of struggle, gave this stark and paradoxical teaching: “War can only be abolished through war, and in order to get rid of the gun it is necessary to take up the gun.” In this saying, we hear not the calm logic of the philosopher, but the fiery voice of the warrior who has lived amidst conflict and drawn from it the law of his age. Mao proclaims that peace is not born of surrender, but of struggle; that the path to disarmament runs not through weakness, but through strength.

The origin of these words lies in the storms of China’s twentieth century. Mao, leading the Red Army through years of bitter civil war and resistance against foreign invasion, believed that the ruling powers would never yield their domination willingly. To abolish the old order of oppression, he taught, the oppressed must themselves rise in arms. Just as a fortress cannot be toppled by mere petitions, so too, he argued, can tyranny not be overthrown by words alone. The gun, symbol of power and violence, had to be met by the gun, until the world could be remade without it.

History offers many echoes of this grim principle. Consider the American Revolution: the colonists did not win liberty from the British crown by appealing to reason alone, but by taking up arms at Lexington, Concord, and Yorktown. They fought through blood and sacrifice so that future generations might live in freedom. Or recall the Second World War, where the menace of fascism could not be ended by negotiation alone. It was only by meeting violence with violence—by storming the beaches of Normandy, by pushing back across Europe—that the tyrant’s guns were finally silenced. In both cases, peace was purchased with the price of battle.

Yet this teaching is a hard one, for it risks becoming a circle without end. If the gun is always answered with the gun, will not war continue forever? Mao believed that when revolution triumphed and justice prevailed, a new order would arise where the gun would no longer be needed. But history has shown that peace won through violence often sows the seeds of new conflicts. Thus, his words stand as both a truth and a warning: while war may indeed abolish war in the short term, it also carries the danger of perpetuating the very cycle it seeks to destroy.

The wisdom for us lies in discerning the balance. There are times when injustice must be confronted, when aggressors must be resisted, when to lay down arms is to surrender others to slavery or death. In such moments, the courage to “take up the gun” is not born of bloodlust, but of the duty to protect. Yet we must also remember that the ultimate goal is not the triumph of arms, but their laying aside. The victory of the battlefield must always point toward the building of peace, lest war become an endless master.

For our daily lives, the teaching is less about weapons than about the spirit of resistance. When faced with oppression, whether in the workplace, in society, or in the struggles of the heart, there are times when gentle words are not enough. There are moments when one must take up strength, confront injustice directly, and fight for what is right. But the fight must always be guided by vision: to end conflict, not to perpetuate it; to bring healing, not endless strife.

Therefore, let the lesson be this: if you must take up the gun, do so with solemnity, and lay it down as soon as the path is clear. Strive always to ensure that conflict serves as a bridge to peace, not a chain binding you to more violence. For while it may be true, as Mao declared, that war can abolish war, it is truer still that only the wise know how to turn victory into reconciliation, and only the just know how to turn the fire of struggle into the light of peace.