When a missile falls, something more dangerous than buildings collapses: your ability to feel.
War doesn’t need your consent. It just needs your attention. Your feed. Your outrage. Your distraction.
Because when your screen lights up with fire and you instinctively pick a side— you’ve already lost. Not your life. But your clarity. Your sovereignty. Your humanity.
You Think You’re Watching War. You’re Watching Theater.
Understand this: You’re not watching history unfold. You’re watching a script play out— funded by arms deals, stabilized by media narratives, and performed by governments who don’t bleed and don’t really care about people
“Justifiable violence” is the most dangerous oxymoron of the 21st century.
Iran. Israel. Ukraine. Taiwan. Gaza. Russsia Different stage. Same director. They light the match. We argue over who struck it.
Who Profits When You Pick a Side?
Let me ask you something brutal:
What if your “solidarity” is just another gear in the machine? What if your flags, hashtags, and tribal takes aren’t signs of justice— but proof that the hypnosis is working?
The people killing each other are not the ones who ordered the war. They’re the ones convinced it was necessary.
Every time you reduce a human to a symbol— you feed the fire. You stop being a witness. You become a weapon.
IThis Isn’t About Iran. It’s About You.
You don’t need to live near the blast zone to be a casualty. If you’ve stopped questioning, if you’ve stopped grieving, if you’ve memorized the headlines but forgotten the faces— you’re already infected.
Because the real bomb is empathy collapse. The real war is fought inside your ability to care without condition, without nationalism, without needing to be “right.”
They Don’t Fear Nukes. They Fear We’ll Wake Up Together.
You want to know why the machine keeps manufacturing enemies?
Because if the Israeli mother and the Iranian father ever look at each other and say: “This isn’t our war”— the whole game ends.
They can’t allow that. So they keep us busy. Fighting over semantics. Consuming curated horror. Begging for peace from the architects of violence.
Who Are You When the Missiles Fall?
Are you a spectator? A soldier of narrative? A well-fed ghost?
Or are you something else entirely?
Are you the whisper that breaks the spell? The one who says: “No. I will not become machinery. I will not perform the play.”
Because the most radical act right now isn’t protest. It’s perception. It’s learning to see beyond the script.
There Is No Foreign War Anymore
Every missile is local. Every dead child is your child. Every collapsed apartment could’ve been your home if you were born 200km east.
If your compassion has borders, your conscience is under occupation.
This Ends When We Say: Enough.
Enough ritual bloodletting for politics. Enough to politicians acting like kings Enough weaponized narratives. Enough performance warfare dressed as moral duty.
This ends when we rehumanize the “enemy.” This ends when we unhook our empathy from identity. This ends when we refuse to choose sides in a war none of us truly asked for.
Because there is no side left to choose. Only this:
We either remember that we belong to each other— or we burn, divided, while the gods of war count their gold.
It began yesterday , as these things often do, with a child asking if the sky was angry. The mother did not have an answer. She only knew that she had forty seconds to decide whether the hallway or the bathtub was the safer place to die. Forty seconds between the warning siren and the firestorm. Forty seconds to hold her son and pretend that hiding was still a kind of hope.
In Tel Aviv, another child stared out a reinforced window, hearing his father curse under his breath in a language older than empires. “We had no choice,” said the man on the television. “But when do we?” whispered the father.
The Empire of Fear
The bomb did not fall on Iran. It fell on the idea that nations can outgrow their ghosts.
Israel’s strike was precise in its coordinates, imprecise in its consequences. It hit a military facility. It hit an oil artery. But it also hit memory. It hit myth. It hit the unbearable inheritance both nations refuse to bury.
Israel, birthed from the charred bones of Auschwitz, still breathes as if hunted. Iran, humiliated by coups and sanctions, still dreams of ancient glory. Both are run by men who mistake vengeance for vision.
The Language of the Liars
They call it a “surgical strike.” But surgery heals. This dismembers.
They say it was “measured.” But they never measure the burned dolls, the shattered nerves, the silence between fathers and sons.
They say it was “defensive.” But there is nothing defensive about bombing a country struggling under sanctions, drought, and dissent.
We are told to pick sides. As if history were that clean. As if trauma cannot be passed down like heirlooms. As if the child in the bunker and the child in the crater are not cousins in the same collapsing dream.
Power Forgets the Body
No headline mentioned the nurse in Isfahan who couldn’t get to the hospital because the roads were closed. No tweet counted the embryos that thawed and died in a bombed fertility clinic. No one eulogized the poet whose manuscript turned to ash with his home.
This is how war works in the 21st century. It’s clean on screens. It’s carnage off-camera.
The West applauds. The markets tremble. And somewhere in a village, a boy draws a picture of fire and calls it God.
Who Profits from Apocalypse?
The U.S. sells more weapons. The Israeli Prime Minister’s approval rating jumps. Iran’s hardliners crush dissent with a new excuse. The oil price surges. Wall Street feasts.
And the mothers? They learn to pack go-bags. They learn how to tell bedtime stories that include missile shadows. They learn that grief is not an event — it’s an atmosphere.
The Bomb Is Not the End — It Is the Beginning
This was not a war. It was a message.
“We will define what safety means.” “We will decide who is allowed to dream.” “We will burn your future to save ours.”
But what if safety cannot be built on supremacy? What if every bomb dropped on another child’s home ricochets back into our own?
The child who asked about the sky? He no longer asks. He just flinches when the wind slams the door.
That’s what the bomb destroyed. Not Iran. Not enrichment sites. Not centrifuges.
It destroyed the idea that our children might grow up unafraid.
“If war were truly human nature, it wouldn’t need to be sold to us.”
For centuries, war has been framed as an unavoidable part of human existence—an instinct as natural as hunger or love. We’re told that conflict is in our DNA, that violence is simply what humans do when resources are scarce or when ideologies clash. But what if that’s not true?
What if war isn’t a reflection of human nature but a product of carefully engineered incentives—a system designed and maintained by those who benefit from it?
Look past the patriotic slogans, the historical narratives, the Hollywood heroics, and you’ll see that war is not an accident, nor an inevitability. It is a business, a strategy, and a tool—one that rewards a select few while costing millions of lives.
Who Profits from Perpetual War?
War is often justified with grand ideals—freedom, security, justice. But follow the money, and you’ll find a far less noble reality.
1. The Economic Engine of War
Wars do not just happen—they are fueled by an entire ecosystem of corporations, lobbyists, and financial interests that thrive on global instability.
The Arms Industry: The global arms trade is a trillion-dollar business, with defense contractors like Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, and BAE Systems profiting immensely from every escalation of conflict. These companies don’t just sell weapons—they lobby governments, fund think tanks, and influence foreign policy to ensure that war remains a constant.
Resource Exploitation: Wars are often fought not for ideology, but for oil, minerals, and strategic territory. The Iraq War, for example, saw multinational corporations swoop in to control lucrative oil fields under the guise of democracy-building.
Reconstruction Profits: Destruction creates markets. The same corporations that profit from bombing a country often profit from rebuilding it. In Afghanistan and Iraq, defense contractors made billions on government contracts to “reconstruct” infrastructure their weapons helped destroy.
War is not random chaos. It is a business model—one where violence creates demand, and instability ensures continued supply.
2. Power and Political Control
Beyond financial incentives, war serves as a powerful tool for political elites to maintain and expand control.
Distracting the Public: When governments face internal crises—economic downturns, scandals, civil unrest—nothing redirects public attention like a well-timed “external enemy.” History is full of examples where leaders leveraged war to unite fractured populations or deflect criticism.
Expanding Authoritarianism: Fear justifies repression. Wars—both foreign and domestic—are often used as excuses to erode civil liberties, expand surveillance, and militarize police forces. Governments that claim to fight for democracy abroad often use the same wars to restrict democracy at home.
Maintaining Global Hierarchies: War isn’t just about nations fighting each other—it’s about maintaining the power structures that benefit the ruling elite. Superpowers wage proxy wars to control strategic regions, install favorable regimes, and prevent economic independence in weaker nations.
War keeps the powerful in power. Peace, on the other hand, threatens hierarchies—because peace often means redistributing power and resources more fairly.
The Myth of War as “Human Nature”
If war were truly inevitable—if it were simply a product of our genetic programming—then why have so many societies thrived in peaceful cooperation?
Post-WWII Europe: After centuries of war, European nations chose economic integration over armed conflict—resulting in unprecedented peace between former rivals.
The Peace Process in Northern Ireland: After decades of violence, incentives shifted from fighting to economic and political cooperation, leading to stability.
Hunter-Gatherer Societies: Anthropological studies reveal that many pre-agricultural human societies avoided war altogether, prioritizing cooperation and negotiation instead.
War is not hardwired into our species. It is imposed. It is incentivized. It is sold.
The Role of Mythmaking: How We’re Conditioned to Accept War
Most people don’t want war. So how do governments convince populations to accept it? Through storytelling.
The Hero Narrative: Films, TV, and video games glorify war as a noble struggle of good vs. evil—conditioning generations to see violence as honorable.
The Fear Narrative: News outlets flood the public with stories of imminent threats—keeping populations in a state of anxiety where militarization seems like the only option.
The Destiny Narrative: History books often portray war as inevitable—as if societies were destined to clash rather than manipulated into conflict.
Every war needs public buy-in. And that buy-in is carefully manufactured.
War Isn’t Inevitable—It’s a Choice
The most dangerous myth about war is that it is unavoidable.
But war is not a law of nature. It is a system, carefully built and maintained. And what is built can be dismantled.
The question is: Who benefits from you believing otherwise?
The year 2024 has been a stark reminder of how interconnected our world truly is. From the skies over Gaza to the trenches of Ukraine, from volatile energy markets to unprecedented climate disasters, the headlines tell a story not just of conflict but of transformation. Behind every headline, however, lies a simple truth: we are more connected than ever, and our fates are increasingly intertwined.
Understanding the Conflicts
At the heart of many of today’s struggles lies a tension between past grievances and future aspirations. In the Middle East, the conflict between Israel and Hamas has deepened suffering on both sides. Families in Gaza live under constant bombardment, struggling to find safety, while Israeli communities mourn lives lost to brutal attacks. Decades of mistrust, compounded by the absence of a political solution, have left ordinary people bearing the brunt of violence.
In Ukraine, a war that began with questions of sovereignty and security has evolved into a broader contest of values and influence. The resilience of the Ukrainian people is matched by the resolve of their allies, yet the toll of the war—in lives, infrastructure, and trust—continues to grow.
These crises may seem distant to some, but their effects ripple outward—destabilizing regions, disrupting economies, and, most importantly, costing lives. They remind us that no conflict is ever truly contained.
The Shifting Sands of Global Power
While these wars dominate headlines, another story is unfolding quietly: the reshaping of global alliances. The expansion of BRICS—a bloc of nations striving for greater influence on the world stage—signals a desire for alternatives to Western-dominated institutions. At the same time, organizations like NATO are reaffirming their commitments, particularly in Eastern Europe, to counter new threats.
This shifting balance of power is neither good nor bad—it simply is. What matters is how nations choose to navigate these changes. Will they pursue competition that deepens divides, or collaboration that addresses shared challenges?
Challenges Without Borders
Beyond geopolitics, our world faces problems that no single nation can solve alone. Climate change is already displacing millions and threatening livelihoods. Technological advancements, from artificial intelligence, quantum computing to renewable energy (and even aliens according to USA news), offer immense promise—but only if we can manage their risks responsibly. Economic pressures, including rising inequality, fuel unrest and strain societies everywhere.
These challenges remind us of something fundamental: while our histories may divide us, our futures are undeniably linked.
So, what does this mean for 2025?
It means recognizing that progress will not come from retreating into isolation or succumbing to despair. It means leaders must prioritize diplomacy over brinkmanship and cooperation over confrontation. It means citizens—everyday people—must demand accountability from those in power while fostering understanding in their communities.
And perhaps most importantly, it means embracing a simple truth: the problems we face are big, but so are the solutions we can achieve together.
Perhaps it is also time for the mega-rich—nations, corporations, and mega millionaires who profit or sustain these conflicts—to reflect on their responsibilities. They have more than enough wealth to go around, more than enough resources to invest in peace instead of war, in opportunity instead of division. Imagine the possibilities if this immense power was used not to fund destruction, but to build a better, fairer world.
Hope in Action
History has shown us that even in moments of great turmoil, humanity has the capacity to overcome. But it requires intention. It requires recognizing that the decisions we make today will shape the world our children inherit. And it requires remembering that, while the headlines may highlight division, the work of unity—slow, steady, and unglamorous—is always worth pursuing.
Imagine a world where nations compete not in arms, but in innovation; where differences spark dialogue, not war; and where the shared pursuit of peace, prosperity, and justice unites us all. That world is within reach—but only if we choose to build it together.
The year ahead will not be easy. But it offers an opportunity to rise above old patterns and lay the groundwork for a future defined not by fear, but by possibility. We are all stakeholders in this fragile, interconnected world. The question is not whether we will shape the future, but how.
