In a Political Climate of Collapsing Ceasefires, Can We Still Believe in Peace?
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For decades, Europe has been living under the comforting illusion that peace is permanent. After 1945, and particularly after the fall of the Berlin Wall, many believed the continent had turned the page on war. Diplomacy, trade, and the European project itself were meant to guarantee stability. Conflict, it was assumed, belonged to history.
But history has returned with force. As of mid-2025, the world is experiencing 61 active conflicts, including 10 full-scale wars. That’s twice as many as between 2010 and 2015. From Gaza to Ukraine, the notion of lasting peace has collapsed under the weight of reality. The idea that peace is humanity’s “default mode” now feels like a dangerous illusion.
A ceasefire may stop the bombs, in theory, but it doesn’t stop the war. Vladimir Putin knows this better than anyone. The 2014 Minsk Agreements were supposed to end the eastern Ukrainian conflict. Instead, they allowed Putin to prolong the strife at a muted intensity, reigniting the conflict when he needed to, ensuring that Ukraine remained weak and unable to join the European Union. The ‘ceasefire’ allowed him to regroup, rearm, and strike again eight years later. When one side believes in victory through domination, diplomacy becomes a pause, not a solution.
This is the uncomfortable truth: peace cannot be maintained through hope alone. It must be defended, and we must accept that preserving peace sometimes means preparing for war. Many countries outside Europe have already embraced this reality. China, Iran, and North Korea openly back Moscow, not only to weaken the West but to promote a world order based on raw power. For them, strength, not law, decides legitimacy. They believe in an autocratic world system. Meanwhile, Europe, lulled by decades of comfort, prosperity, and a belief in democratic peace, has only recently begun to rearm and rethink its security.
The United States, long deemed the guarantor of Western stability, no longer holds the overwhelming dominance it once had. The world has become multi-polar, fragmented, and volatile. Power is distributed differently now, and so are ambitions. Nations that once watched from the side-lines now believe they can shape, or even rewrite, the global balance.
In this fractured landscape, easy promises of peace are tempting. Donald Trump has claimed he could “end the war in Ukraine in 24 hours.” But ending a war is not the same as creating sustainable peace. A ceasefire that cements territorial conquest would be nothing more than surrender disguised as diplomacy. It would reward aggression and invite more of it in Ukraine and beyond. Putin would see this as a sign of weakness, and his never-ending appetite would encourage him to conquer Poland, Georgia, or Romania.
Europe has been here before. In 1938, the West believed that giving Hitler part of Czechoslovakia would satisfy him. It didn’t. Appeasement fed his appetite. The same logic applies today: feeding an aggressor only makes him hungrier.
In the Middle East, the illusion of “quick peace” persists. A truce in Gaza may be necessary to save lives, but without disarmament, accountability, and a viable political vision, it risks becoming just another pause as we await the next round of violence.
Peace must therefore be more than a word, it must be an effort. It requires strength, deterrence, and above all, resolve. Weakness, however well-intentioned, is an invitation to those who reject peace altogether. This does not mean embracing militarism, but recognising that diplomacy works only when backed by credibility and capability. To defend democracy, nations must be willing to defend themselves. Peace should never be confused with passivity. It is an active project, one built through unity, vigilance, and moral clarity. To believe that peace can survive without strength is to forget the lessons of history.
In the end, peace endures not because conflict disappears, but because free nations stand ready to resist it.