Beyond Final Answers: Navigating Peace

Most people think of peace as something obvious and naturally good — like sunshine after a storm. We are told it is the opposite of war, the absence of violence, a return to harmony. But what if peace isn't so simple? What if peace isn’t a permanent state, but a fragile, ever-changing process — full of contradictions, trade-offs, and unfinished work?

Across history, philosophers and religious teachers tried to explain what peace means. Ancient Greeks like Plato saw peace as inner balance — when the soul, and the city, were ruled by reason and virtue. Christians linked peace to God’s love and forgiveness. Buddhists spoke of peace as the end of suffering, reached through skillfulness, compassion and mindfulness. These ideas saw peace as a kind of spiritual perfection. Many ideas projected peace as something you could finally reach if you lived wisely.

During the Enlightenment, peace became a political project. Philosophers like Immanuel Kant imagined that if we built democratic countries, created fair laws, and formed international institutions, the world could enjoy something called "perpetual peace." Others, like the realists, were more skeptical. They believed peace was never permanent. Peace is only a pause in the struggle between powerful nations. To them, peace was just what happens when no one is strong enough to start a war.

In our time, ideas about peace have become more complex and sensitive to injustice. Critical thinkers say we can’t just talk about peace as stopping violence. We must also look at poverty, racism, and unequal systems that keep people powerless. Feminist movements remind us that peace often excludes women’s voices, and that peace in public might still mean violence in the home. Environmental thinkers say there is no real peace unless we also care for the Earth.

All of these ideas are helpful. But they still share a hidden assumption: that peace is something we can define once and for all — something pure and desirable, waiting to be discovered or installed.

But what if that’s not the case?

For the one that sees reality as both shaped by power and full of human-made meanings, peace is not a final answer or natural state. It is more like a negotiated moment between many forces: power and hope, fear and imagination, local truth and global ambition.

In this view, peace is not the end of conflict. In fact, conflict might be a sign of life, of people still caring, still fighting for dignity. Peace, then, isn’t the absence of struggle but is the quality of struggle: how inclusive it is, how fair, how much it respects human agency and dignity. If peace is only projected by control, that can sometimes mean silence, not because everyone is happy, but because people are afraid to speak. It’s peace without justice, order without freedom. What if systems are fair and strong. It sounds better but even that can be misleading. Because fairness, too, is not fixed. Systems that claim to be fair might still ignore certain voices. A stable peace in one place might mean oppression for another.

Peace is always someone’s story — and stories are made by people, shaped by culture, history, and politics. So we must ask: Who defines peace? Who benefits from it? Who is left out? A critical view of peace helps us stay humble. It reminds us that peace is always unfinished. It is something we must practice, rethink, and remake, again and again — not because peace is fake, but because it is real in a world that is constantly changing.

Even technology — which many say can help peace — is not neutral. Technology, in fact, is not good, bad or neutral. It depends on how we direct it. Social media can bring people together or tear them apart. Data can protect or surveil. Blockchain can support justice or reinforce exclusion. Digital tools are shaped by those who use them. They don’t bring peace by default. But with care and awareness, they can support local efforts, make power more visible, and tell better stories that include more voices and challenge the old hierarchies.

In the end, we should stop thinking of peace as something we finally “get to” a place we arrive at, then rest. Instead, peace is more like learning to walk a tightrope in the wind. It takes skill, balance, honesty, and constant adjustment. It is like we are on a boat in a river. Don't cling too much on the boat for it is just a vehicle but never ignore the river as well.

Real-deal peace isn’t about avoiding conflict at all costs. It’s about facing conflict with care. It’s about choosing construction over destruction, again and again. Peace in this world is not pure destination, but it can still be worthwhile trip. Not final, but still meaningful. It is not a but a practice. A fragile but brave human effort to hold things together just long enough for something better to grow.