The Suicidal Futility of War: A Mourning for Civilization and a Call for Disarmament

Posted on 17/06/2025 (GMT 17.24)

Abstract

The article “The Suicidal Futility of War: A Mourning for Civilization and a Call for Disarmament” explores the devastating consequences of warfare on humanity, civilization, and the planet, arguing that war represents a self-destructive cycle that undermines progress and moral integrity. Drawing on historical and contemporary examples, the piece examines the immense human cost, environmental destruction, and societal regression caused by armed conflicts. It critiques the perpetuation of war through political, economic, and cultural mechanisms, highlighting the futility of seeking lasting solutions through violence. The author advocates for global disarmament as a moral and practical necessity, emphasizing the need for collective action, diplomacy, and non-violent conflict resolution to safeguard civilization. By mourning the losses inflicted by war, the article issues an urgent call for humanity to reimagine a peaceful future grounded in cooperation and mutual understanding.

The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of violence

In a century that has witnessed the holocaust, the mushroom cloud, and the machinery of endless war, humanity stands at a precipice—armed to the teeth, yet soul-starved. At Once in a Blue Moon Academia, we issue this statement not with the confidence of policy architects, but with the sorrow of witnesses—mourners of a civilization unraveling under its own inventions.

War, once glorified as the extension of politics, has revealed itself as a business of betrayal of humanity’s higher calling. It is a suicidal ritual, enacted by nation-states entranced by their own myths of dominance. Its consequences are no longer confined to battlefields; they seep into the soil, air, oceans, and minds. Environmental devastation, displacement, authoritarianism, and epistemicide—these are its silent accompaniments.

We find resonance in Rabindranath Tagore’s final lament, Crisis in Civilization (1941), written as Europe descended into fascist horror and Asia reeled under imperialism. In this haunting essay, Tagore wrote:

“The wheels of civilization are moving with an increasing speed, but its guiding spirit has been lost.”

Tagore, as an inhabitant of no-nation, mourned not only for India, but for a world where institutionalized, organized and funded “science” has been weaponized, science as a culture commercialized, and compassion eclipsed. Today, his fears echo with terrifying clarity. Our technical rationality has outpaced our moral imagination. The very word civilization rings hollow amid drone strikes, refugee camps, and ecological collapse.

This moment also demands a return to the Gandhian ethic of non-violence (ahiṃsā)—not merely as a political tactic, but as a philosophical commitment. Gandhi reminded us that true peace is not the absence of war, but the presence of justice. Non-violence was not for him a strategy of the weak but the only dignified path for the strong:

“The choice is no longer between violence and nonviolence; it is between nonviolence and nonexistence.”

His words now confront us not as moral counsel but as existential warning.

We also reaffirm the prophetic power of the Russell-Einstein Manifesto (1955)⤡.

“Shall we put an end to the human race, or shall mankind renounce war?”

That call remains unmet. Today, militarism is not merely a policy—it is a planetary condition, embedding itself into education, economics, innovation, and even language. The defense budget expands, while climate agreements falter. Entire generations grow up learning the names of missiles before they know the names of trees.

The Buddha, over 2,500 years ago, diagnosed violence not as a political strategy, but as a symptom of impoverishment. In the Dhammapada, he warned: “Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal law.” The path to peace lies not through conquest or deterrence, but through the transformation of consciousness. War, for Buddha, is not merely external—it is the externalization of inner ignorance and craving.

We must remember that Buddha emphasized on four immeasurables: Maitri (loving-kindness) karuṇā (compassion), muditā (empathetic joy, jouissance) , and upekṣā (equanimity) All these quattuor represent a path to develop attitudes towards others.

However,  what shall we (ubuntu–“I am because we are”) do if “L’enfer, c’est les autres”—“Hell is other people”? (No Exit, Jean-Paul Sartre) Sartre’s enunciation entails others’ gaze objectifies us, imprisoning us, freezes our subjectivity, and robs us of self-definition. Can we exi(s)t the mirror that traps us in prison? Contemporary world is haunted by bad faith, inauthenticity, and anxiety born from living-for-the-Other–the invisible hands, the war-monger big bosses–perils rooted in their ego. No way to bridge the abyss? No synthesis? Only incessant struggle of Sisyphus could answer this pessimistic question–we have to bear the burden of responsibility without escape.

And we draw upon Charlie Chaplin’s speech in The Great Dictator—that cinematic cry against fascism and fatalism:

“We want to live by each other’s happiness—not by each other’s misery.”

These are not antiquated voices; they are torches passed to us in the long night of modernity.

Thus, Once in a Blue Moon Academia declares:

• That war is anti-civilizational—it hollows out not only the cities it bombs, but the values it claims to defend.
• That disarmament is no longer a diplomatic ideal but a planetary necessity.
• That education must become a sanctuary of critical thinking, not a conveyor belt to militarized industries.
• That non-violence is the last reservoir of human dignity in an age of algorithmic violence.

We do not speak from neutrality. We speak from mourning. Mourning for languages lost in war. Mourning for rivers poisoned by armies. Mourning for children born into rubble. Mourning for ideas that never got to live.

But mourning is not the end. It is the beginning of responsibility.

We call upon all scholars, students, poets, scientists, and dreamers to resist the normalization of war and to resurrect the forgotten promises of civilization. The task ahead is not to manage war—but to abolish it.

Let us choose, while we still can.

Let us choose peace—not as a plea, but as a principle.

Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us, only sky

Imagine all the people
Livin’ for today
Ah

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too

Imagine all the people
Livin’ life in peace
You

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world
You

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one