As the world prepares to merrily celebrate Christmas on December 25, with carols, candles, gifts and gatherings my kids have been so enthusiastic about, my thoughts drift, inevitably and uneasily, to people across continents who will mark this season not with joy, but with fear, deprivation and grief. When one surveys the globe today, a grim common thread binds distant lands and diverse societies: conflict. It manifests in many forms—economic, political, ethnic, ideological and military—but its consequences are uniformly cruel. Peace, despite humanity’s bitter experiences, continues to elude us.
History offers no shortage of warnings. The twentieth century alone witnessed two World Wars whose scale and savagery reshaped the world. World War I, sparked by nationalism, imperial rivalries and diplomatic failure, left nearly 20 million dead and shattered empires. Instead of ushering in lasting peace, it sowed the seeds of resentment and economic despair that gave rise to fascism and World War II. That second conflagration, the most destructive in human history, claimed over 60 million lives, devastated Europe and Asia, and culminated in the nuclear annihilation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, grim reminders of humanity’s capacity for self-destruction.
In the aftermath of World War II, leaders vowed “never again.” Institutions such as the United Nations were created to resolve disputes through dialogue, not arms. Yet the decades that followed tell a sobering story. The Cold War divided the world into hostile blocs, bringing proxy wars in Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, Africa and Latin America. While nuclear deterrence prevented direct confrontation between superpowers, millions perished in regional conflicts fueled by ideological rivalry.
The end of the Cold War briefly raised hopes for a “peace dividend.” Instead, the world entered a new phase of instability. Ethnic conflicts tore apart Yugoslavia. Genocide scarred Rwanda. The Middle East remained trapped in cycles of war and retaliation. The US-led interventions in Iraq and Afghanistan, launched in the name of security and democracy, produced long wars whose human and economic costs far outweighed their gains. Terrorism emerged as a global threat, feeding on unresolved grievances and failed states.
Today, conflict has returned with alarming intensity to Europe itself, a continent that once prided itself on having learned the lessons of history. The war between Russia and Ukraine has inflicted immense suffering on ordinary people: cities reduced to rubble, millions displaced, families torn apart, and an entire generation growing up amid sirens and uncertainty. Whatever the geopolitical arguments advanced by either side, the human cost is undeniable and indefensible.
This is not an isolated tragedy. From Gaza to Sudan, from the Sahel to Myanmar, violence continues to uproot lives. Economic conflict, too, is pervasive: trade wars, sanctions, debt crises and widening inequality pit nations and classes against one another. Even societies not directly at war feel the consequences through inflation, refugee flows, energy shortages and a growing sense of global insecurity.
One might ask: how, after centuries of bloodshed, does humanity still fail to learn? Part of the answer lies in the persistence of ego, power politics and short-term thinking among leaders. War is often justified in the language of national interest, honor or security, yet it is invariably paid for by civilians. Children lose schools, the sick lose hospitals, and the poor lose whatever fragile stability they possess. Reconstruction takes decades; trauma lasts generations.
Christmas, at its core, is a celebration of peace, compassion and goodwill. The image of a child born in a manger has endured precisely because it speaks to humility and humanity, not conquest. At this moment, therefore, it is worth articulating a simple, perhaps unfashionable wish: that this Christmas brings wisdom to leaders who command armies and shape destinies.
In particular, one hopes that Russia’s President Vladimir Putin and Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky pause, even briefly, to reflect not on strategy or prestige, but on their people, the soldiers in trenches, the civilians in bomb shelters, the parents who bury their children. History will not judge them by how long they fought, but by whether they found the courage to stop.
Peace, contrary to popular belief, is not weakness. It requires moral strength to shed ego, to compromise, and to accept that no victory built on ruins can truly be called a triumph. Europe learned this lesson after 1945; it must not be forgotten now.
In this context, any genuine effort toward peace deserves encouragement, regardless of who undertakes it. If President Donald Trump seeks to play a role in ending the conflict, one can only wish him success. The world has seen enough failed wars and broken promises. A negotiated settlement, however imperfect, is infinitely preferable to endless bloodshed. If peace were to come to a ravaged region through such efforts, it would indeed be a gift worthy of global recognition.
One might even indulge in a Christmas metaphor: Santa Claus, bearer of goodwill, presenting the Nobel Peace Prize not as a personal accolade, but as a symbol of what humanity values most, the saving of lives. Such symbolism matters, because it reminds leaders that history honors peacemakers long after warriors are forgotten.
Ultimately, however, responsibility does not rest with leaders alone. Citizens, media and institutions must resist the idea that war is something normal. We must question narratives that glorify violence and demand accountability for decisions that destroy futures. Future generations will inherit the world we leave behind. They should not look back on us as idiotic warmongers who knew the costs of conflict yet chose it anyway.
As candles are lit this Christmas, let them illuminate not just homes, but consciences. Let the season renew our collective commitment to dialogue over destruction, empathy over enmity, and peace over pride. For without peace, no celebration—Christmas or otherwise—can ever be complete.
Merry Christmas, and may it bring the world closer to the peace it so desperately deserves!
By Mabel Pais
On September 15, President Joe Biden, Australian Prime Minister Scott Morrison, and British Prime Minister Boris Johnson jointly announced a new trilateral security partnership named AUKUS. The most significant part of the deal was the U.S. pledge to provide Australia with technology to build eight nuclear-powered (but not nuclear-armed) submarines. The only other country to receive similar access to U.S. technology is the United Kingdom. The statement announcing the pact justified it as necessary to “preserve security and stability in the Indo-Pacific.” Although none of the three leaders mentioned China by name, AUKUS was widely seen as a response to growing Chinese assertiveness. Not surprisingly, Beijing denounced the pact as “extremely irresponsible” and “polarizing.” But China wasn’t the only country unhappy with deal. France fumed because AUKUS terminated a $37 billion agreement it struck with Australia in 2016 to build a dozen diesel-electric powered submarines. As a result, Paris recalled its ambassadors to Canberra and Washington, a move without precedent in bilateral relations with either country.
The downturn in international migration flows in 2020 triggered by COVID-19 continued into 2021. That didn’t translate, however, into the end of migration crises. A case in point was the southern U.S. border. By October, the number of people entering the United States illegally had hit 1.7 million over the prior year, the highest number since 1960. COVID-19, economic hardship, and political and natural events—the assassination of Haiti’s president and a subsequent earthquake sent thousands of Haitians abroad—drove the surge. But so too did the expectation that the Biden administration would be more welcoming than the Trump administration. To stem the inflow of migrants the Biden administration continued many of its predecessor’s harsh anti-immigration policies. Where it didn’t, the Supreme Court ordered it to. The European Union saw a 70 percent rise compared to 2020 in the number people entering illegally, with critics arguing that the EU was failing its duty to help migrants. A surge in migrants crossing the English Channel from France triggered a diplomatic row between Paris and London.
The year began with optimism that the Iran nuclear deal might be revived three years after President Donald Trump quit the agreement. Joe Biden came to office calling Trump’s Iran policy a “self-inflicted disaster” and pledging to return to the deal if Iran returned to compliance. Making that happen was easier said than done, however. In February the Biden administration accepted an invitation from the European Union to rejoin negotiations. Diplomatic jockeying between Tehran and Washington delayed the start of talks until April. An explosion at an Iranian nuclear facility in mid-April, likely the result of Israeli sabotage, prompted Iran to announce it had begun enriching uranium to 60 percent, a level that has no civilian use though it is below the threshold required for a weapon. Five more rounds of negotiations took place before Iran’s presidential election in June, which saw hardliner Ebrahim Raisi emerge victorious. He immediately dampened speculation that an agreement was near, saying “that the situation in Iran has changed through the people’s vote.” Negotiations finally resumed in late November, but Iran walked away from the concessions it made in earlier rounds and restated its initial demand that the United States lift all the sanctions the Trump administration imposed. As 2021 came to a close, the talks were on the verge of collapse, with Iran by some estimates just a month away from acquiring weapons-grade uranium and the Biden administration facing the question of what to do should diplomacy fail.
The U.S. war in Afghanistan ended as it started twenty years earlier: with the Taliban in power. In 2020, President Donald Trump struck a deal with the Taliban that required withdrawing all U.S. troops by May 1, 2021. Two weeks before that deadline, President Joe Biden ordered that a complete U.S. withdrawal be concluded by no later than September 11, 2021—the twentieth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. As the withdrawal proceeded, the Afghanistan national army collapsed and the Taliban overran the country. Kabul fell on August 15, trapping thousands of foreigners in the capital city. The United States launched a massive effort to evacuate stranded Americans by August 31, a deadline set by the Taliban. The U.S. withdrawal ended on August 30, leaving behind more than one hundred U.S. citizens and as many as 300,000 Afghans who may have qualified for expedited U.S. visas. Biden called the withdrawal an “extraordinary success.” Most Americans disagreed and his public approval ratings hit new lows. Allied dignitaries called the withdrawal “imbecilic” and a “debacle” among other things. The United States spent more than $2.3 trillion on Afghanistan over two decades, or roughly $300 million a day for twenty years. More than 2,500 U.S. service members and 4,000 U.S. civilian contractors died in Afghanistan. The number of Afghans who lost their lives likely topped 170,000. Despite claiming to be different, the new Taliban government so far has looked and acted just like the one that horrified the world twenty years ago and a massive humanitarian crisis looms.
On January 6, 2021, a mob of supporters of President Donald Trump attacked the United States Capitol in Washington, D.C.[note 1][28] They sought to overturn his defeat in the 2020 presidential election by disrupting the joint session of Congress assembled to count electoral votes that would formalize then President-elect Joe Biden’s victory. The Capitol Complex was locked down and lawmakers and staff were evacuated, while rioters assaulted law enforcement officers, vandalized property and occupied the building for several hours. Five people died either shortly before, during, or following the event: one was shot by Capitol Police, another died of a drug overdose, and three died of natural causes. Many people were injured, including 138 police officers. Four officers who responded to the attack died by suicide within seven months.
