Peace. Do we even know what we’re looking for?
Élison Santos, PhD
When studying our history, a wise girl from the future might wonder how, by the beginning of the second quarter of this century, the generations living at this time still lacked a clear understanding of the tools necessary to secure peace in the world. After all, we had endured the most devastating wars in the previous century. We had developed means of communication and transportation that spread information and knowledge across the globe like no other human generation in millennia. With all the comfort, technological advances, suffering, and lessons—we were supposed to know better.
However, what will likely stand out in the history books of the future about our time is not the breathtaking images taken by the James Webb Telescope, nor the astonishing speed with which the global scientific community developed vaccines that saved millions of lives during a deadly pandemic. What will be highlighted is war—plural. The invasion of Ukraine, for example, has claimed the lives of nearly a million people; over five million have fled as refugees, and a quarter of the population has been displaced since 2022, with even more displaced since the earlier conflicts in 2014. And the war is still ongoing, with more lives lost every day.
Since October 7, 2023—when Hamas carried out a massacre that killed approximately 1,200 people in Israel, mostly civilians including children and women—the Israeli government’s response has led to what many are calling a humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza. Over 60,000 people have been killed, the vast majority of them civilians, including countless children and women. The violence continues, now unfolding into larger conflicts of international magnitude—between Iran and Israel, and with involvement from the United States and other countries.
Peace. What is it? Do we even know what we’re looking for?
While international organizations such as the UN continue to advocate for peace, we face a constant global power struggle where values essential to building peace are increasingly ignored. Respect for the dignity of every human life is under threat. Nationalist ideologies are spreading the false belief that some lives are more valuable or dignified than others. But the moment you publicly promote intolerance and bigotry, you also provoke retaliation—and with it, a self-perpetuating cycle of violence and despair.
So where is peace? Is it even possible? Or—as many power players seem to believe—is peace just a utopian dream? History has shown that we are capable of horrific, bloody wars. But it also shows that we are capable of creating moments of lasting peace. There are key elements needed to build it.
One important idea found in the writings of concentration camp survivor and psychiatrist Viktor Frankl is the distinction between mass and community. This distinction can offer us essential insights into how to build lasting peace. Massification occurs when institutions—whether governments, universities, international bodies, or policymakers—see people not as individuals, but as part of a faceless mass. They become mere numbers and statistics. This is dehumanizing. It allows those in power to treat people as objects, making decisions that jeopardize their well-being or their very lives.
This logic can be used to justify military attacks that cause “collateral damage,” to refuse signing treaties that prevent climate change, to deport entire groups of people or limit their freedom of movement, to restrict basic rights—or to put lives in danger by approving unsafe food or transportation.
In contrast, when people are seen as members of a community, they are viewed as individuals worthy of protection. In a true community, each person has a voice. Everyone’s dignity and rights are respected. Ideas are heard, concerns are shared, and freedoms are safeguarded. Responsibilities are shared too, because every individual’s capabilities are recognized and valued.
So, where is peace in all of this? Clearly, it doesn’t come from massification. The real challenge before us—especially for those in positions of power—is how to make decisions, draft policies, engage in international dialogue, and influence other nations in a way that affirms the full worth of every human being.
To answer this question, we must confront deeper issues—many of them rooted in longstanding prejudices. Differences in race, culture, region, and especially religion pose ongoing challenges. These differences call world leaders to a higher level of responsibility, one that extends far beyond economic management. They are called to care for the existential health of the world.
Frankl’s theory reminds us that if every person were “perfect,” we would all be the same—and therefore, we would have no individuality. The very idea of perfection is epistemologically flawed. There are no perfect people, no perfect races, nations, cultures, or belief systems. But this doesn’t mean we lack goodness. On the contrary—what allows humans to live together in peace is the recognition that we are all unique. We should not expect to find ourselves reflected in others, but instead to honor and be curious about our differences.
Our differences are what make us beautiful. They are the reason we’re drawn to one another, the basis of exchange, relationship, and cooperation. Ultimately, war is often the result of some people’s refusal to accept those differences. That’s why radical ideologies like nationalism have fueled many of the most devastating conflicts in human history.
There is a path to peace, but it requires a high level of both cognitive maturity and deeply human values. You can’t take shortcuts if you want to build something as precious as lasting peace. Just as you wouldn’t rush to build the safest and most beautiful castle, peace requires time, work, and teamwork.
The greatest Nobel Peace Prize laureates have understood this. They knew that short-sightedness—defending only one’s house, city, or country—is not enough. To lead, to govern, to serve humanity, you must see the world as it truly is: one world, inhabited by uniquely different, profoundly valuable human beings.
And here lies a hard truth: not everyone currently in power is fit for that task.
If you cannot see beyond your borders—if your leadership cannot rise above tribalism, nationalism, or personal gain—then you are not equipped to lead a nation, much less to participate in shaping the future of humanity. If you cannot recognize the dignity of those who are different from you—culturally, religiously, racially—then you are not ready to represent the human family.
Leadership today demands more than political calculation; it requires moral vision. The world does not only need economic managers—it needs existential guardians. Leaders capable of holding together difference and dignity, complexity and compassion. Anything less risks not only our peace, but our shared future.