The prize of peace is agreeing to disagree

Last week, we saw a promise of come to fruition by promoting a ceasefire between and a gesture that many classified as worthy of the . This circular phrase was enough for the world to judge him, for or against, not on the merit of what was done but, rather, on whether it is in favor of the figure who represents the deed.

We live in a time where judgment has become a reflex. If before it was necessary to know it to give an opinion, today it is enough to see a small excerpt, read a headline, see a fragment of an image to feel dislike. We have created a culture in which reacting is easier than understanding. And what was once engagement became moral entertainment.

Judging has become a pastime. Understanding, a dying effort.

The rush to form an opinion is the most refined symptom of anxiety. The brain, when anticipating danger, releases cortisol and activates the alert system. The same mechanism that saves lives in an emergency now defines what we call positioning.

The anxious anticipates tragedies. The prejudiced person anticipates blame. And both act out of fear.

The Nobel Peace Prize is the perfect irony of all this. It was created by Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite, who one day read his own obituary by mistake and found himself described as the merchant of death. Instead of reacting, he reflected. He decided to use the guilt as an inheritance. He created the award to honor anyone who did the opposite of what he did: build instead of explode.

The prize that was born from destruction became the symbol of reparation.

The problem is that we keep exploding, we just change weapons. Today, the attack is a tweet, the battlefield is a feed. We explode first, we hurt and we don’t even worry afterwards.

The difference is that Nobel left a legacy. We leave explosions with the feeling of a permissible heroic act when there is no need to see the look or the sadness provoked. Empathy disappeared with the culture of narcissism.

Neuroscience explains what the internet confirms. When we become indignant, the limbic system takes over and silences reasoning. Each like is a dose of dopamine, each criticism a rush of power. Judging is the new social vice.

Anger gives meaning. Dopamine rewards. And the cycle of outrage continues.

Freud said that we project onto others what we cannot bear to see in ourselves. Perhaps, That’s why criticizing others brings so much reliefis our fear without looking in the mirror.

Are we perfect?

Anger is just anxiety that has learned to speak loudly.

In relationships, the same script repeats itself. We argue to win, not to understand. We create walls of opinion where bridges of connection previously existed.

Every relationship that loses the benefit of the doubt begins to die due to excess certainty.

Politics is the magnified mirror of this behavior.

We want leaders who say what we think, not make us think. We want peace, but without the discomfort of listening. We want harmony, as long as the other person shuts up first.

Peace, however, is not born from speeches. It requires the interval between the stimulus and the response. The space where anger dissolves and dialogue begins. It is in this silence that emotional maturity happens. But silence doesn’t get people liked.

Alfred Nobel created the prize to transform guilt into conscience. A century later, what was a symbol of reparation became a stage for vanity.

A new peace prize needs to be created: it belongs to those who can restrain themselves before reacting. This self-control is what is most lacking in real relationships. We create digital bonds with those who seem to think like us and we call this affinity. But maybe it’s just a well-disguised loneliness.

A pazon any scale, is the daughter of time and listening. It demands a break, a breather, or not knowing.

And perhaps the greatest challenge of our time is accepting what we lack.

And in the end you ask: but who is right?

Where everyone finally we learn to agree to disagree.

*This text does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Jovem Pan.