We didn’t always have a straightforward strategy for peacekeeping. Our top brass spent day and night working it out. We ordered lunch for the office and called to say we’d be home late or not at all. We assumed the remedy we were searching for would be full of complexities—minutiae that’d make even the most obsessive bean counter’s head spin. We ran simulation after simulation, but all our spurious theories came out in the wash.
In the end, we decluttered the old ways of thinking. Scratched out the chalkboard full of ideas. The answer had been in front of our eyes the whole time. It was straightforward. Elegant. Like a perfect mathematical proof. Our plan for peace was simple: Kill everyone.
The problem, we reasoned, was that when it came to any conflict (and especially our conflict), people were the constant. People, our experts argued, are what all violence has ever had in common. Remove them from the equation, and what remains? A light breeze. A bird call. The sound of rushing water.
There were, of course, a few slight snags. For instance, when it came to a peace plan that involved killing everyone, there was expected and widespread disagreement over who, specifically, constituted “everyone.” Even the term “people” was up for debate. Who were these people? How could we make it clear they weren’t people in the way that we were people?
Another hiccup bubbled to the surface: Peace would need to be enjoyed by someone—otherwise, was it really peace at all? This was our core philosophical hurdle, one we discovered only after we’d set our plan in motion. It was a true riddle. An enigma. If a tree falls, that kind of thing. The ouroboros of our peacemaking theory was that, to achieve it completely, we had to destroy completely. And then who would be around to soak up all that juicy, lasting peace?
We’ll be the first to admit that our initial rollout was anything but smooth. How could it have been? Peace isn’t something prepackaged that you can order online and unbox. It’s something you have to take from someone else. Besides, we needed to make decisions—fast. We concluded that the most appropriate answer to the question of who should reap the fruits of peace was (it now seems embarrassingly obvious to say) the peacemakers. The peacemakers! Those who crafted and concocted peace were meant to enjoy their creation. Who could argue with that? No one, soon. Not once we’re the only ones left.
For if we’d found one thing to be true, it was this: To guarantee the enjoyment of our eventual, collective peace, we had to make sure the others didn’t outlast us. This was crucial. In fact, it remains a top priority as we head into another year of making peace.