War Is the Price the Young Pay for the Old’s Hatred
Dr. Reyaz Ahmad
War is not heroic. It’s not glorious. It’s not noble. War is a slaughterhouse for the young, orchestrated by the old.
The statement cuts deep: “War is a place where young people who don’t know each other and don’t hate each other kill each other, by the decision of old people who know each other and hate each other, but don’t kill each other.” That’s not just cynical—it’s brutally accurate. It calls out the cold mechanics of power and how it exploits youth.
In every conflict, it’s teenagers and twenty-some things who are sent to fight. They’re given rifles, wrapped in flags, told it’s for their country, their freedom, their future. But most don’t even understand what they’re dying for. They’re not defending their homes from imminent attack. They’re fulfilling the agendas of leaders who send others to do what they won’t: bleed.
The people who start wars—presidents, prime ministers, generals, corporate lobbyists—don’t face the gunfire. They meet in boardrooms and summits, make speeches about “necessary action,” and shake hands for the cameras. They have security, bunkers, medical care, and distance. The young men and women they command have mud, blood, trauma, and graves.
And here’s the bitter truth: the people on the other side of the battlefield are just like them. Another young soldier. Same fears. Same confusion. Same reluctance. But with a different uniform and a different language. They’re told to hate each other. But they don’t. Not really. They’ve been programmed to see each other as threats, but if they met under different circumstances—at a bar, on a bus, in college—they’d probably be friends.
That’s the madness of war. It hijacks empathy and replaces it with obedience. It turns individuals into tools. It creates enemies out of strangers and martyrs out of kids.
And all the while, the architects of war go untouched. They negotiate ceasefires over wine, send condolence letters, and move on. They don’t pay the price. They collect it.
This isn’t a call for naive pacifism. Self-defence is real. Evil exists. But so does manipulation. So does manufactured fear. And too often, wars are not about defence—they’re about profit, pride, or power.
If we want to honor the lives lost in war, we need to be honest about who benefits from it, who suffers for it, and who decides when it happens. Because until the day comes when the people who declare war are the ones who fight it, the injustice will continue.
And the young will keep dying for old men’s grudges.
India and Pakistan: A Generation’s Inherited Conflict
Take the example of India and Pakistan. The partition in 1947 was orchestrated by British politicians who would never live with its consequences. The wounds of that division—based on political rivalry and religious manipulation—are still raw. Since then, India and Pakistan have fought four wars. Who fights these wars? Not the leaders. Not the politicians spewing venom on primetime debates. It’s the jawans—the 19- and 20-year-olds posted on the border. It’s the families in border villages who hear the gunfire before they hear any explanation.
Ask an Indian soldier standing watch in Siachen—at 17,000 feet in sub-zero temperatures—if he hates the young Pakistani on the other side. Most likely, he doesn’t. He’s there because someone in Delhi and someone in Islamabad decided they should be.
Every time tension rises, rhetoric takes over. Politicians, media houses, and Twitter warriors demand blood. But none of them will bleed. It’s the sons of farmers and factory workers who go to war, not the sons of politicians.
Iraq, Afghanistan, Ukraine: A Global Pattern
The United States sent thousands of young men and women to Iraq and Afghanistan. Many were 18 or 19, barely out of high school. They were told they were fighting terrorism, defending freedom. Years later, it was revealed that much of the justification was hollow. No weapons of mass destruction. No clear objectives. Just oil, influence, and revenge. Over 7,000 American troops died. Countless more returned with PTSD. Over 200,000 civilians in Iraq and Afghanistan died. For what?
In Ukraine, young men on both sides—Ukrainian and Russian—are killing each other every day. Most don’t know each other. Most didn’t start the conflict. They were conscripted, ordered, and manipulated. Meanwhile, the men responsible—Putin, NATO leaders, oligarchs, arms dealers—are nowhere near the trenches.
The Business of War
There’s also the money. War is a billion-dollar business. Defence contracts, arms deals, reconstruction projects—all thrive on conflict. For every young life lost, there’s someone who gains. War is not just about strategy. It’s an industry. And it depends on a steady supply of obedient young people willing to die for causes they barely understand.
The Myth of Glory
War is often wrapped in honor and nationalism. Martyrdom is glorified. But ask any soldier’s grieving parent what they would prefer: medals or their child alive. National pride is important. Security is vital. But when war becomes the first option instead of the last, something is deeply broken.
Who Fights. Who Decides. Who Lives.
History is clear: the people who fight wars are rarely the people who start them. And the people who start wars rarely pay the price. They meet in peace talks. They appear on magazine covers. They retire into comfort and memoirs.
It’s the young who lose their limbs, their futures, their lives.
If the architects of war had to pick up the rifles themselves, there would be fewer wars. If the ones who shout loudest for revenge had to send their children to the front line, they might think twice.
Conclusion: A Call for Accountability
War may sometimes be necessary, but it should never be easy. It should never be decided by those who have nothing to lose. Every generation must ask: Who is telling us to fight, and why? Until the world demands that leaders face the same risks they impose on others, the cycle will continue.
India, the world, every country—needs to wake up to this truth. The young deserve more than to be pawns in a game of the old.
(The author works at the Faculty of Mathematics, Department of General Education HUC, Ajman, UAE)
