War Is Insane

One of the bombs fell right by my father-in-law’s old house in north Tehran, killing several people in a residential building. Meanwhile, in Haifa, my other partner’s family is huddled in shelters, waiting for the response. Everywhere, there’s fear, grief, and chaos.

And in all of this, it’s really hard to read the words of idiots who throw around terms like “tactical” or “preemptive” to call for yet another ride on this hell-wheel.

War is insane. That’s not a hyperbole. War exists because people’s minds literally disconnect from the consequences of their actions. The Buddha called it papañca: “objectification.” You turn living beings into objects. You turn yourself into an object too. People eating dinner or playing with their kids become “strategic targets.” The child with his head split open becomes “collateral damage.”

And while your heart is breaking — and it IS breaking — you can’t feel a thing so long as the anesthesia of papañca spreads through your chest. Later, it will wear off and you’ll need new forms of anesthesia: revised histories, edited memories, fresh hatreds.

Papañca is a cancer of the storytelling mind. The only way to justify war is to tell a narrative that begins with your victimization and ends with you throwing the last punch. This, too, is insane. There has never been a first or last punch thrown in all of history. Every act of violence has led to more violence. You may choose not to see this, but not seeing it is a sign that papañca has already spread to your eyes, ears, and soul.

There is only one way to end war, and that is through relationships. And there is only one way to have harmonious relationships, and that is to connect to your heart, your pain, and your innate compassion.

The burden shouldn’t be on anyone to prove peace works, when war so clearly doesn’t. Before you react with a narrative, consider that you might not be in your right mind. Step back and see the fever dream, the possession, the break with what is. Come to your senses.

Pablo Picasso, "Guernica" (1937)