Yes, peace can and must be won, to save the world from the

Hear the thunderous cry of Paul Robeson, singer, activist, and prophet of peace, who declared: “Yes, peace can and must be won, to save the world from the terrible destruction of World War III.” These words were not spoken from ease or comfort, but from the deep fear and burning hope of an age balanced on the knife-edge of annihilation. Robeson, who raised his mighty voice against injustice, lifted this prayer and command at a time when the world trembled under the shadow of nuclear fire. His call was not timid; it was urgent, as if carved from the very heartbeat of humanity itself.

The meaning is clear and yet profound. Peace must be won—not begged for, not delayed, not left to chance. It is a prize that requires courage equal to that demanded by war, for peace is not passive; it is active labor, relentless struggle, and constant vigilance. To prevent World War III, to prevent the fire that would consume cities and children alike, mankind must rise with the same determination it brings to battle—but turn it toward reconciliation, justice, and understanding. In this way, peace is not weakness, but the highest form of strength.

Robeson spoke these words in the midst of the Cold War, when nations bristled with weapons that could turn the earth into ash. He saw the peril of hatred and rivalry, and he chose not to sing only songs of lament, but to call upon humanity’s courage. His voice joined the great chorus of peacemakers, reminding the people that the choice was theirs: destruction through division, or salvation through unity. It was a cry against the silence of despair, a summons for humanity to prove itself greater than its own machines of death.

History bears witness to the truth of his words. Consider the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962, when the world stood mere breaths away from nuclear war. Missiles were ready, leaders were trembling, and fear covered the earth like a shroud. Yet through courage, negotiation, and the will to step back from the brink, disaster was avoided. In that moment, Robeson’s words lived: peace was won, not by accident, but by the hard choice of men who dared to defuse the storm. Humanity survived, not because of weapons, but because of wisdom.

Yet Robeson’s warning still echoes today, for the danger has never vanished. New rivalries rise, new weapons are forged, and the temptation of war still whispers in the ears of leaders. His words are eternal because the struggle for peace is eternal. Each generation must decide anew whether it will walk the path of destruction or labor for the victory of peace. The world has seen the ruin of two world wars; it must never allow the third.

The lesson is both heroic and humbling: peace does not descend from the heavens like gentle rain—it must be forged by human hands, chosen with human hearts. If you would honor Robeson’s call, then live as a peacemaker in your own life. Resist the easy seduction of hatred, of revenge, of endless conflict. Seek reconciliation with those around you, and demand that leaders do the same on the world’s stage. Speak against war not with whispers but with courage, for silence is the ally of destruction.

Practical wisdom follows: build bridges where walls stand, offer dialogue where anger festers, and never dismiss the power of small acts of peace. A kind word, a reconciled quarrel, a refusal to dehumanize—these are the seeds of global peace. Demand justice, for peace without justice is fragile. Demand humility, for leaders who listen can prevent nations from burning. Above all, carry hope, for despair hands victory to destruction before the battle is even fought.

Thus let Robeson’s words resound like the beating of drums: “Yes, peace can and must be won, to save the world from the terrible destruction of World War III.” Let them be carved into the hearts of all generations. For if humanity dares to believe this truth and act upon it, then our children shall inherit not ashes, but a world renewed—a world where the voice of peace is mightier than the thunder of war.