Nina’s Night of War
Nina is only eight years old, but on this frigid winter night she feels a terror far beyond her years. Huddled in a damp cellar, she presses a threadbare teddy bear to her chest as the thud of distant explosions draws nearer. Each blast trembles the ground. Dust falls from the ceiling. In the darkness, Nina’s wide eyes glisten with tears as she whispers a question no child should have to ask: “Why is this happening?” Her mother’s arms wrap around her tightly, but even a mother’s love cannot stop the war raging above.
Outside, Nina’s hometown is being torn apart. Moments ago, she was in her bedroom, sketching suns and stars in her notebook. Now those pages lie scattered on a debris-strewn floor. Down the street, an apartment building is ablaze. Sirens wail through the night. Neighbors scream and search for loved ones in the chaos. Nina can’t comprehend the politics or polarization that led to this destruction—she only knows the immediacy of fear. In her innocent mind, someone out there decided to rain fire on her world, and nothing will ever be the same.
Nina’s father was out helping a neighbor when the shelling began. He hasn’t returned. With every explosion, she wonders if he ever will. The once-familiar scent of home has been replaced by smoke and ash. In the flicker of a candle, Nina sees her mother’s face streaked with soot and worry. She remembers her birthday just a month ago, when both her parents smiled as she blew out eight tiny candles. How did life turn from birthday cake and laughter to blood and rubble so quickly?
This single harrowing night will etch itself into Nina’s soul forever. Yet sadly, Nina’s story is not unique. Her nightmare is shared by countless others—ordinary people whose lives have been shattered in an instant by the forces of division and war. She doesn’t know it, but the forces that ripped her world apart took root long before the bombs fell. They began as seeds of hate and polarization—seeds sown in human hearts that history has seen sprout time and again. To understand Nina’s plight, we must step back and see how such darkness takes hold.
Echoes of History
Nina’s terror echoes the experiences of millions throughout history who have been caught in the crossfire of polarized conflict. The pattern is painfully familiar. Decades, even centuries before her, divisions between “us” and “them” have fueled some of humanity’s darkest chapters. In the 20th century alone, extreme polarization set the stage for unspeakable violence. Neighbors who once shared meals turned against each other under the shadow of propaganda and fear—just as families were split apart in places like Rwanda and Bosnia when rhetoric of hate reached a fever pitch. In Europe, the rise of fascism was enabled by a society cleaved in two: those deemed “pure” and those demonized as the enemy. We know how that ended—whole cities in ruins and an entire people nearly erased. History books are filled with such cautionary tales, yet the cycle of division leading to destruction repeats.
Looking back, we see that war is rarely an accident of fate. It is the culmination of widening divides—political, ethnic, religious, or ideological. Before a single shot is fired, dehumanization does the groundwork. In Nazi Germany, for instance, years of polarizing propaganda dehumanized Jews and other minorities, laying the psychological foundation for the Holocaust. In 1994, radio broadcasts in Rwanda labeled one group as cockroaches, inciting ordinary people to commit genocide against their neighbors. Time and again, leaders have exploited fears and grievances to turn groups against each other. The tragic lesson: when a society becomes deeply polarized—when empathy erodes and “the other” becomes a monster—violence is not far behind.
These historical echoes remind us that Nina’s nightmare didn’t emerge from a vacuum. It’s part of a recurring human story. The human spirit has endured world wars, genocides, and endless cycles of retaliation born from polarization. Yet, amid the darkness, history also offers glimmers of hope: moments when people recognized the horror and vowed “never again.” After the world wars, international institutions were formed in the hope of fostering dialogue and preventing future bloodshed. In other words, our ancestors tried to learn from the wounds of polarization. Still, here we are in the 21st century, hearing the rumble of bombs once more. It begs the question: have we truly learned, or are we sleepwalking into the same traps, albeit in new forms?
War in Our Time
Fast forward to today, and the world is once again witnessing the devastation that polarization wrought. In Eastern Europe, a full-scale war has been raging—one that most of us hoped we would never see again on this scale in our lifetimes. In Nina’s homeland, neighborhoods like hers have been reduced to rubble, and millions of refugees have been dispersed across the continent. The conflict might have geopolitical causes on the surface, but at its core lies the same old demon: a narrative of “us vs. them” powerful enough to turn diplomacy to dust and ignite explosive aggression.
A street in downtown Kharkiv, Ukraine, lies in ruins after a bombardment – a stark testament to what unchecked hatred and militarism can do. Shattered concrete, mangled cars, and hollowed-out buildings now define the landscape where children once played and families built their lives. Each heap of debris was once a home or shop; each fallen tree and burnt car hints at dreams destroyed and futures violently interrupted. The physical destruction is immense, but the human cost is far greater. Think of the thousands of Ninas out there: children separated from parents, parents burying children, communities broken and grieving. The trauma of such war will echo for generations.
What brought us to this point? In this war, as in so many others, polarization was cynically weaponized. Years of stoking ideological fires—through propaganda, misinformation, and historical grievances—eroded trust and empathy between peoples who shared a border. When the first missiles launched and tanks rolled in, it was under the banner of division: one side convinced of the other’s threat, and vice versa. Internationally, this war has only amplified global rifts. Allies lined up on opposite sides, citizens around the world argued bitterly over the conflict, and social media became a battlefield of narratives. Even facts themselves became casualties, as each camp embraced its own version of truth. The polarization that once might have been confined to speeches and tweets transformed into a very real war, with very real blood.
Yet even as the war rages, humanity shows its dual nature. On the one hand, hatred and violence; on the other, courage and compassion. We’ve seen volunteer medics rescuing the injured under fire, neighboring countries opening their doors to refugees, and activists around the globe rallying for peace. This contrast is striking: the worst of humanity alongside the best. It’s as if the human spirit itself is being tested in the crucible of this conflict. Will fear and division triumph, or can empathy and solidarity prevail? That question looms not only over the battlefields of Nina’s country, but over the entire world. And in January 2025, on the other side of the globe, an event occurred that would test these balances further.
January 2025: A Turning Point
In a world already on edge, January 2025 brought a political earthquake. In the United States, a new president took the oath of office—Donald Trump, returning to power after a contentious election. On January 20, 2025, during his inaugural address, Trump made a striking promise: “Our power will stop all wars and bring a new spirit of unity to a world that has been angry, violent, and totally unpredictable.” These words rang out as a bold vision amid a fractured global landscape. After years of bitter partisan divide in America and relentless conflict abroad, here was a U.S. president vowing to end the era of war and division. But would his actions match his rhetoric?
True to his campaign pledges, President Trump immediately signaled a dramatic shift in U.S. foreign policy. Within days of taking office, his administration announced a halt to certain military aid programs overseas and pushed aggressively for a rapid end to ongoing conflicts. In particular, he turned his attention to the war in Nina’s region. Trump had long claimed he could end that war “within 24 hours” if given the chance. Now, he set out to prove it. The White House unveiled a plan to broker an “immediate ceasefire” in Ukraine, even if it meant forcing painful concessions. American diplomats were dispatched to negotiate directly, and U.S. support for one side of the conflict was put on pause to pressure both parties to the table.
On the surface, many breathed a sigh of relief—after all, any serious effort to end a war is welcome news. Ukraine, desperate for peace after years of devastation, agreed to the unconditional ceasefire proposed by Washington. But achieving real peace proved far more complicated than a campaign slogan. Russia balked at the terms, exploiting the pause in U.S. support to dig in its heels. By early April 2025, it was clear that Trump’s vow to end the war swiftly was meeting harsh reality. “President Trump vowed to end the war in Ukraine before he even took office, but that has proven to be harder than he predicted,” reported NPR, noting that while Ukraine showed willingness, Russia had not reciprocated. The promised quick peace was elusive.
Meanwhile, Trump’s policy shift sent shockwaves through American and international politics. To his supporters, the moves were seen as a long-overdue correction—a step back from endless foreign wars and a focus on national interest. To his critics, it looked like betrayal and appeasement: abandoning allies and moral obligations, and perhaps emboldening aggressors. The American public found itself further polarized. Some praised Trump as a peacemaker; others condemned him for what they saw as undermining a just fight against aggression. In Congress, bitter debates erupted over funding and foreign policy, mirroring the divide on Main Street. Instead of uniting a world “angry and violent,” the sudden change in course risked deepening divisions, at least in the short term.
One thing was unmistakably clear: January 2025 marked a turning point. The U.S.—a key player on the world stage—was taking a markedly different stance, and everyone from European capitals to families like Nina’s felt the repercussions. A single policy decision in Washington had the power to either save or sacrifice lives an ocean away. It’s a stark reminder of how interconnected our world has become, and how leadership rooted in polarization can either ignite hope or sow further discord. As the dust settled from Trump’s dramatic entrance and the war ground on uncertainly, a broader truth came into focus: the polarization we face isn’t confined to one country or conflict—it’s a global epidemic affecting how we live together on this planet.
The Age of Polarization
We are living in what many have dubbed the Age of Polarization. Technology has connected us more than ever, yet societies seem more fragmented and tribal. Whether it’s over political ideology, identity, religion, or even scientific facts, people are splitting into camps with hardening distrust of one another. The signs are everywhere. Families have stopped speaking because of election feuds. Online discussions quickly spiral into venom and vitriol. News feeds resemble echo chambers, each side convinced the other is not just wrong, but an existential threat. It’s as if a psychological war runs parallel to the physical wars—one fought with memes and slogans, but wounding us nonetheless.
In this divided landscape, truth itself becomes contested. We’ve seen how during the pandemic, something as basic as public health measures turned into a polarizing battle. Climate change, an issue requiring united action for our survival, gets mired in partisan debate. Every issue, no matter how urgent or benign, risks becoming a front in the culture wars. It’s exhausting and disorienting. People are left asking: How did we get so divided? Social scientists point to many factors: economic inequalities feeding resentment, algorithms that amplify outrage, politicians and pundits who profit from stoking anger. But at its core, polarization feeds on a primal human impulse—fear of “the other.” When we feel threatened or insecure, we retreat into our in-groups and double down on our worldviews. It’s an ancient survival mechanism that, in a modern pluralistic society, can turn incredibly destructive.
The consequences of this polarization are dire. Democracy itself is under strain when compromise becomes a dirty word. In some countries, political polarization has eroded the norms and trust that keep institutions functioning. In others, it has spilled into street violence and vigilantism. Globally, great-power rivalries flare as mutual understanding diminishes. We end up with nations—and neighbors—locked in cycles of mistrust. Everyone is shouting; few are listening. In such an environment, empathy is in short supply. It becomes easier to cheer for “our side” and dehumanize the other side—paving the road, once again, to conflicts like the one enveloping Nina’s life.
Yet, even as this age of polarization tears at our social fabric, many are yearning for a way out. We glimpse it when former rivals reach across the aisle, when grassroots dialogues bring opposing communities together, when individuals muster the courage to question their own assumptions. The truth is, polarization may dominate headlines, but it doesn’t fully represent the human desire for connection. Beneath the noisy clashes, there’s a quieter story: countless people working to bridge divides, to remind us that our common humanity runs deeper than our differences. This brings us to a critical reflection: in a world so divided, what can guide us back toward unity and peace? For that, we might need to look beyond politics—into the realm of spirit, compassion, and the lessons of our ancestors.
Collateral Damage: Demonizing an Entire Nation
Ordinary Russians queue outside a Moscow bank as sanctions spark a desperate run on cash. The sweeping sanctions and restrictions aimed at Russia’s leaders have instead bled into the lives of ordinary Russian citizens, turning their daily existence into a struggle. Almost overnight, a nation that had been intertwined with the global economy found itself “unplugged from the world”. Borders slammed shut, with European airspace bans leaving thousands of Russian travelers stranded abroad. Major payment networks like Visa and Mastercard cut off services, so a Russian mother suddenly can’t use her credit card to buy essentials or send money to her child studying overseas. Tech giants and consumer brands pulled out en masse – from Apple and Nike to Boeing and Ford – abruptly severing access to digital platforms, goods, and services that Russians had come to rely on. Even cultural and academic spaces turned hostile: Russian musicians disinvited from concerts, students and scientists treated with suspicion, national teams barred from competitions. In a matter of days, ordinary people saw the world they knew crumble into isolation.
The economic shock was immediate and personal. The ruble’s value collapsed, at one point worth less than a single U.S. cent, wiping out the hard-earned savings of families in a flash. Panicked lines formed at ATMs as citizens rushed to withdraw cash, unsure if their money or even their country’s currency would hold value by tomorrow. Prices for everyday goods began to skyrocket – import staples like electronics and medications disappearing or doubling in cost. “It’s been like Christmas for us,” one electronics shop clerk remarked grimly as people bought up appliances in a frenzy, even as prices were hiked every few hours. In supermarkets, shoppers hoarded sugar, bread, and flour, anxious about what shortages might come. Each new sanction or corporate pullout quietly reverberated through kitchen tables and corner stores: a bank transfer that no longer goes through; a mobile app that suddenly blocks Russian accounts; an airline ticket that can’t be booked for a daughter’s graduation abroad. Collective punishment has seeped into the texture of everyday life. The message sent by the world – that all Russians bear responsibility and must be walled off – weighs heavily on those who may have no love for war or autocracy. In the name of righteous defense of Ukraine, millions of ordinary men, women, and children have been made to feel like pariahs, collateral damage in a geopolitical moral drama.
History offers a dire warning about where this road of demonizing an entire people can lead. We have seen this pattern before, in some of humanity’s darkest chapters. In Nazi Germany, state propaganda systematically vilified Jewish citizens as vermin, liars, even demonic schemers, stripping them of their humanity and stoking fear and hatred. This unrelenting campaign of dehumanization paved the way for genocide; it lowered the moral barriers enough that ordinary Germans became complicit in or numb to the Holocaust. In more recent times, legitimate security concerns have too often morphed into wholesale vilification of entire groups. The rhetoric of the “War on Terror,” for example, has been twisted into a broad brush that paints all Palestinians as inexorable enemies, erasing distinctions between militants and schoolchildren. What begins as a fight against extremism can turn into a blanket indictment of an entire ethnicity or faith, as decades of conflict rhetoric have demonized Palestinians collectively – a people of mothers, teachers, artists – under the label of “terrorist”. And only a few years ago, at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, we saw how dangerous conspiracy theories ignited a wave of hatred against people of Chinese and East Asian descent. Wild accusations that China deliberately engineered and unleashed the virus spread faster than the virus itself, fueling a global surge in racism and violence. In one grim statistic, analysts documented a 300% spike in online posts inciting violence against Chinese people within a single week, as the “China virus” conspiracies took hold. Across Western countries, verbal and physical attacks on Asians skyrocketed, fed by fear and the poisonous allure of a scapegoat. These episodes – Nazi antisemitism, anti-Palestinian and Islamophobic demonization, anti-Chinese pandemic conspiracies – may differ in context and scale, but at their core they share a sobering truth: when we collectively blame and dehumanize an entire group for the crimes or fears posed by a few, we court moral disaster.
In each of these cases, dehumanization is the true enemy. It is a seductive enemy within – an ideological venom that turns righteous anger into indiscriminate hate. Demonizing an entire nation or people is not just morally corrosive; it is historically dangerous. It warps the very ideals of justice and individual dignity that democratic societies purport to defend. Justice is lost when guilt is assigned by association rather than by evidence – when being Russian, or Jewish, or Palestinian, or Chinese becomes a crime. And the values of democracy – respect for human rights, equality, the recognition of each person’s humanity – are betrayed when we permit the collective punishment of innocents. Ultimately, by wielding the sword of collective blame, we do more than wound the targeted group; we wound our own human spirit. We reinforce the tyrant’s logic that might makes right and that whole populations are expendable in the pursuit of abstract aims. We risk becoming what we claim to fight against. The lesson threading through history is as clear as it is urgent: we must confront aggression and injustice without losing our own humanity in the process. Dehumanization – of any people, by any side – undermines the very justice and freedom we seek, whereas recognizing the common humanity even of our “enemies” is the first step toward any truly just and lasting peace.
Divide and Rule: Manufacturing Fear and False Foes
Hatred and division are not just unfortunate byproducts of conflict – they are deliberately weaponized by those who seek to tighten their grip on power. Across the world, populist, extremist, and nationalist regimes have learned that sowing fear and fury among the populace can be as effective as any army. They manufacture resentment, feeding people a bitter diet of grievances and scapegoats. Old prejudices are reforged and new enemies invented, until the public is primed to see threat everywhere except where it truly lies. In this way, polarization is no accident; it is policy, cynically crafted and deployed.
To achieve this, fear itself is mass-produced. Demagogic leaders conjure phantoms and exaggerate dangers, telling the majority that “they are being attacked” and that only blind loyalty can save the nation. State-controlled media and propaganda megaphones work around the clock to flood society with chilling narratives. In some cases, governments even pour vast sums into campaigns designed to “conjure an atmosphere of hatred and fear” – an Orwellian torrent of warnings about traitors, outsiders, or any convenient “enemy” said to be lurking at the gate. As anxiety mounts, resentment is carefully stoked: every hardship or insecurity is blamed on some vilified Other. The message is pounded home relentlessly until it echoes in the people’s very thoughts. Under such a spell, reason yields to rage, and a fearful population looks to the self-proclaimed strongman for salvation.
Just as importantly, propaganda reduces the world to a false binary. Complex human realities are flattened into stark cartoons of good versus evil. Us versus Them. Patriots versus traitors. The pure people versus the corrupt Other. In the populist imagination, “the people” are cast as a single, righteous bloc – and anyone outside this mystic unity is labeled an enemy. Foreigners, dissidents, minorities, the press – all are painted as threats “not being ‘us’”. There is no room allowed for dissenting voices or nuanced identities. Citizens are told they must choose a side and that neutrality or compassion is betrayal. In this manner, fear is welded to a perverse form of patriotism. A loyal citizen learns to reflexively distrust and hate whatever target the regime points to. The public square becomes an echo chamber of nationalistic fervor and suspicion, where dialogue dies and emotional manipulation reigns.
Under such conditions, entire populations can be turned against each other with frightening speed. Neighbors who once lived in peace may wake up to find themselves cast as mortal enemies by the day’s official narrative. History offers searing lessons: in one nation, a radio station infamously referred to a minority group as “cockroaches” and urged the majority to “exterminate” them. Those dehumanizing words did lead to mass murder – ordinary people, intoxicated by months of fear and hate-mongering, picked up machetes against their fellow countrymen. What began as chilling rhetoric ended in bloodshed, proving how effective the propaganda of hate can be once it captures the public mind. Elsewhere, time and again, leaders facing unrest have reflexively scapegoated vulnerable groups to rally their base. Stirring up prejudice becomes a distraction from corruption or failure; directing popular anger at an “enemy within” cements the leader’s authority amid crisis. Through such cynical ploys, common citizens are indoctrinated to see one another as villains, while the true instigators of this misery sit back and consolidate their power.
All of this serves a dark purpose: polarization serves power, not the people. The more fractured and fearful a society, the easier it is for its rulers to tighten their control. As long as we are busy hating each other, we are not questioning them. A populace at war with itself will clasp the chains forged by its oppressors, mistakenly believing them to be safety rails. But there is another truth, quietly waiting beneath the noise: these divisions are a lie, and we do not have to accept them. Breaking free begins with reclaiming our own clarity and empathy. It begins with recognizing how our perceptions have been twisted and choosing to see our fellow human beings not as enemies, but as part of the same wounded family. When we rediscover the courage to question the fearful narratives and rekindle empathy for those we were taught to despise, the spell of polarization breaks. The tyrants’ chorus of hate falls silent, and the human spirit – resilient, compassionate, and clear-eyed – rises once more beyond the reach of their lies.
The Human Spirit in the Crossfire
Amid guns and rhetoric, it’s easy to forget an essential truth: we are not born to hate. As a shaman and observer of human nature, I believe that at our core, we humans are wired for connection, empathy, and spiritual wholeness. The polarization and wars we see are distortions—terrible detours—from our true nature. The human spirit, when unclouded by fear, naturally seeks harmony. But when that spirit is wounded or clouded, as it is for so many of us today, the result is a world out of balance. I often think: what is the spiritual cost of all this division? What does it do to our souls to live in constant “fight or flight,” viewing our fellow humans as enemies?
In shamanic understanding, everything is connected. The anger of the world is the sum of the anger in individual hearts. The war outside reflects wars waged within ourselves—our inner conflicts, unhealed traumas, and unaddressed shadows. When I look at the hatred fueling conflicts, I see pain at its root. Hurt people hurt people. Entire nations can be in pain, their collective wounds leading them to lash out. It’s as if humanity is suffering a spiritual crisis, a dark night of the soul. Yet in spiritual traditions, the dark night is also a precursor to awakening. The human spirit has an astounding capacity to learn and grow from suffering. Just as a forest fire can lead to new growth, our hope is that from this global crisis of polarization, a new consciousness can emerge.
Picture Nina once more, that frightened child in the cellar. In the depths of her fear, a small spark of resilience still burns. That spark is the human spirit. It’s what makes a child like her still capable of laughing again if given a chance, still capable of healing if embraced with love. Likewise, even the soldier who might be fighting overhead was once an innocent baby—what might his life have been if, instead of indoctrination into hate, he had been nurtured in understanding? These thoughts aren’t to excuse heinous actions, but to recognize that somewhere beneath the layers of anger and fear, a human soul resides. When we remember this, something powerful happens: enemies start to appear more like potential brothers and sisters who lost their way. This perspective is the antidote to dehumanization. It’s a way to reclaim our shared humanity from the clutches of polarization.
From a spiritual point of view, polarization is an illusion – a trick of the mind that masks the deeper reality of interconnection. We truly are all connected: Nina, the people in the next town, the strangers in far-off countries, even those we call adversaries. When one is hurt, in time all feel the pain. The rise in collective anxiety and despair across the globe is a sign that, at a subconscious level, we know something is terribly wrong with the state of our human family. The good news is that the same interconnectedness means any act of compassion, any bridge built between divided people, sends out ripples of healing far and wide. Our human spirit can be wounded, yes—but it is also remarkably resilient and capable of transformation. The question is: will we allow this dark period to transform us for the better? Will we finally heed the wake-up call and begin the work of healing? The answer depends on each of us, and it calls for conscious action.
The Enemy is Not Each Other
In the end, the true enemy we face is not a people or a nation – it’s the hatred and dehumanization that grow from polarized narratives. War and extreme division feed on stories that turn our fellow humans into faceless villains. When we buy into these black-and-white tales of “us vs. them,” we forget that on the other side of any border or belief is a person as real and human as ourselves. The human spirit diminishes every time we accept a caricature in place of a soul. We must not allow the poison of polarization to blind us to each other’s humanity.
The way forward is through empathy and an unwavering commitment to see the full nuance of each other’s lives. This means listening to stories we haven’t heard, and feeling the hurt and hopes of those we’re told to call “enemy.” It means humanizing the other – looking into the eyes of those we disagree with and recognizing a fellow human being. No side in any conflict has a monopoly on pain or virtue. If we can remember that every individual is more than a label, we begin to disarm the narratives of hate. We replace judgment with curiosity, anger with understanding.
Such compassion is not easy or soft – it is courageous and transformative. By holding onto our shared humanity, we refuse to let fear win. The human spirit is powerful: it bridges chasms that propaganda and prejudice would keep forever apart. The enemy is not each other; it’s whatever makes us forget the sanctity of life on the “other” side. And when we choose empathy over division, the war within us ends – that is where true peace begins.
Before you go: You’re invited to join Rudá Iandê’s free masterclass: Free Your Mind It’s not about politics or activism – it’s an exploration of how modern spirituality can become a trap — one that disconnects us from our true selves and leads to self-sabotage. In this eye-opening session, Rudá offers tools for authentic self-liberation, helping you cultivate emotional integrity and reclaim your personal freedom. It’s a journey to break free from the illusions holding you back and reconnect with your most authentic self. Come if you’re ready to step into your own power and live in alignment with your truth.
