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Names mask violence
Reasons disguise truth
Blood remains blood
-安天美
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Violence wears many costumes in our world. Some wear the plainclothes of "senseless crime," others don the ornate garments of divine mission. We create elaborate categories to separate one killing from another, but beneath these classifications lies the same fundamental truth: life taken cannot be returned. The power we grant ourselves to categorise violence reveals our desperate need to make sense of the incomprehensible.
The naming of violence serves a peculiar function in our collective psyche. We label certain acts "terrorism," others "justice," and still others "defense." These words become shields protecting us from confronting the raw reality of what happens when one human decides another should cease to exist. Yet the power of naming never changes the fundamental equation that one life was extinguished by another's hand.
Young people inheriting this world of carefully categorised violence must develop a keener eye. The ability to see past labels reveals patterns of power and control that transcend cultural boundaries. When we recognise how naming shapes our perception of acceptable and unacceptable deaths, we begin to question not just individual acts but entire systems built on the foundation of justified harm.
Humans have always crafted elaborate mythologies around violence. From ancient warriors claiming divine favour to modern conflicts wrapped in flags and anthems, we surround killing with ritual and meaning. These stories transform the horror of bloodshed into something noble, necessary, even beautiful. The mythology of righteousness transforms the killer from monster to hero through nothing more than narrative.
The language of justification flows through history like a dark river. Those who kill for power or resources rarely name their true motivations. Instead, they speak of protection, of necessity, of higher calling. We hear echoes of this language across centuries and continents with different words masking the same fundamental drive. The costume changes while the actor remains the same.
What would happen if we stripped away these mythologies? If we looked at violence without its cloak of righteousness? Perhaps we would see not heroes and villains but human beings caught in cycles of fear and power. Perhaps we would recognise how these justifying stories serve those who benefit most from conflict while offering little comfort to those caught in its path.
Beyond all human categorisation lies the undeniable reality of blood. When violence reaches its conclusion, all bodies bleed the same. The sacred and the profane, the just and unjust causes all end in the same biological truth. Cells destroyed, systems failing, consciousness extinguished. The body knows nothing of our elaborate justifications.
Our physical truth presents a challenge to our conceptual frameworks. While minds can be convinced that some deaths matter more than others, bodies tell a more democratic story. The same pain receptors fire, the same fear chemicals flood the system, the same precious consciousness fades regardless of the words spoken over the act. This biological equality stands as silent testimony against our hierarchies of justified harm.
Young people today face the task of reconciling these contradictions in the stories we tell versus the reality we create. The courage to acknowledge blood as blood, regardless of the names we give it, represents the first step toward genuine transformation. When we accept that violence affects all bodies equally, we begin to question systems that treat some deaths as necessary sacrifices while others provoke outrage.
Finding our way forward requires new language and new imagination. While history offers countless examples of violence justified through religion, nationality, or ideology, it also provides models of communities that chose different paths. These alternative traditions don't deny the reality of conflict but refuse to mythologise harm done to others.
Creating space for this new consciousness begins with questioning. When violence appears wrapped in righteousness, we must ask who benefits from this framing. When some deaths are treated as statistics while others become rallying cries, we must examine the power structures determining this difference. These questions don't yield comfortable answers, but they create pathways toward more honest engagement.
The generations coming into their power now have unprecedented access to global perspectives on violence. We can see patterns across cultures that previous generations could not. This expanded vision carries both burden and possibility. The weight of witnessing, balanced against the potential for creating new narratives that don't depend on justified bloodshed. The challenge becomes finding ways to acknowledge conflict without sanctifying harm.
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<aside> <img src="/icons/backward_blue.svg" alt="/icons/backward_blue.svg" width="40px" /> Trust Anchors
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<aside> <img src="/icons/forward_blue.svg" alt="/icons/forward_blue.svg" width="40px" /> Seeds of Justice
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