We must not only imagine a better future for women, children, and

The noble words of Nadia Murad, survivor, activist, and messenger of light amidst the world’s darkest cruelty, ring with both sorrow and hope: “We must not only imagine a better future for women, children, and persecuted minorities; we must work consistently to make it happen – prioritizing humanity, not war.” These words rise from the ashes of suffering, not from idle contemplation. They are not the musings of peace spoken from comfort—they are the testimony of one who has seen the abyss. Murad’s voice is forged from grief and courage; her wisdom born of wounds that refused to silence her. In her call, we hear the cry of all humanity—to build a world guided by compassion, justice, and resolve, rather than by vengeance and destruction.

In the manner of the ancients, let us first understand her truth: imagination alone is not enough. The better future she speaks of cannot be conjured by dreams or speeches—it must be built, brick by brick, through relentless labor and moral courage. Many have envisioned peace, yet few have worked to make it real. The great philosophers of old warned that virtue without action is an empty vessel. So too does Murad remind us that to dream of justice while tolerating cruelty is to betray our own humanity. To imagine is divine; to act is sacred. The soul that envisions good but does not pursue it becomes as still and useless as a sword left to rust.

Murad’s words carry the weight of her story—the tragedy of her Yazidi people, who were hunted, enslaved, and massacred by the hand of war. She, a young woman torn from her family, endured horrors no human should bear. Yet from her suffering, she rose not as a voice of hatred, but of healing. She chose to fight, not with weapons, but with truth. Like the prophets of old who rose from exile to speak of deliverance, Murad stood before nations and declared that the sanctity of life must come before the hunger for power. Her wisdom was purchased with pain, and therefore it carries an authority that no comfort-born peacekeeper can claim.

Her message transcends borders and centuries. For what she names—women, children, and persecuted minorities—are the eternal victims of humankind’s folly. Every war, from ancient empires to modern battlefields, has crushed the innocent beneath its iron. Yet in every age, there have also been those who stood against the tide—those who chose humanity over conquest. Recall the example of Mahatma Gandhi, who fought empire not with armies, but with soul-force. He taught that true power lies not in domination but in dignity. Like Murad, he understood that war may win land, but only peace can win the future. Both voices, echoing across time, teach the same lesson: mercy is mightier than the sword.

To prioritize humanity, not war, is to act in accordance with the divine order of creation. For war destroys what the heavens themselves have nurtured—children, hope, art, and love. Humanity, on the other hand, builds bridges where armies build walls. The wise understand that every act of kindness is a quiet rebellion against chaos. To care for the broken, to defend the voiceless, to feed the hungry—these are not small gestures, but acts of defiance against the darkness. Each one is a torch lit in defiance of the night.

O seekers of truth, take this lesson to heart: the better world is not waiting in some distant tomorrow—it begins now, in your hands, in your choices. Work consistently, as Murad urges. Let your compassion be active, not idle. Speak against cruelty even when silence is safer. Lend your strength to those who cannot lift their own burdens. Build peace in your household, your community, your nation—until it grows strong enough to withstand the storms of hatred. The work of justice is long, but it is the only labor worthy of a human heart.

And so we return to her words, radiant and grave: “We must not only imagine a better future… we must make it happen.” This is both a warning and a promise. If we do not build the world of mercy, the world of violence will build itself. But if we choose, as she has chosen, to sow seeds of compassion, then even amidst the ruins, life will rise again. Let each of us, in our own way, become architects of that better future—not through rage or despair, but through steady faith in humanity. For when compassion becomes our greatest weapon, and courage our shield, then truly we shall see the dawn of the world that Nadia Murad has dared to imagine.