Brazil once had a Ministry of War, established in 1891 during the republican era. Today, we have only the Ministry of Defense, established in 1999. Other countries have also established their own “ministries of war.” But I cannot recall a time in Brazilian history—or in the history of other countries—when a Ministry of Peace was ever established.

Violence in schools—against students and teachers—is not unique to the United States, a country that has been shocking the world for decades. The case of Malala Yousafzai herself demonstrates this: for defending women’s right to access education, she was the victim of an attack in 2012 carried out by the fundamentalist group the Taliban.

Examples of war and violence inside and outside schools—whether or not they are related to education—are age-old and global. They are human scourges that affect everyone, regardless of race, creed, or cultural, educational, or financial background.

What can bring about change in this scenario are effective and replicable actions that can be scaled up and implemented at all levels, for we know that peace and a culture of peace in schools are powerful forces, as Malala Yousafzai’s own example demonstrates—even if, in a certain context, this may present a skewed view: despite the brutal attack, she survived and, in 2014, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Words are carried away by the sea if they are not accompanied by actions and courage. But words are also tools for learning and teaching. An education for peace can start with the basics: dictionaries, books filled with words and meanings. There we find insights into the future of human relationships. There we find the meanings of empathy, social-emotional learning, active listening, dialogue, and acceptance… it’s easy to find a dictionary at school—and right in the palm of your hand, of course.

In fact, this is not a simple issue, but it is one that society and the entire educational sector can address. It involves looking to the past while keeping an eye on future possibilities. We must understand what we have recently gone through: a painful period of physical and social distancing during the toughest phase of the pandemic, which affected many and took a toll on the mental health of students, teachers, and society as a whole.

When the World Health Organization (WHO) declared the pandemic, I remember hearing it said a lot: “After all this, we’ll emerge as better human beings.” I believe this, simply because of the power of the word “hope.” But I must admit that we still have a long way to go before that becomes a reality.

The reality is that, while in isolation, we have endured suffering—some due to domestic violence, many out of fear of the unknown, and all with a constant awareness of the risk of death. And suddenly, as if by magic, we would all be ready to return to a time of social reopening, of reestablishing relationships, and of groups and individuals back in the classroom.

Everything is constantly evolving, and education isn’t in an isolated bubble. We’re actually moving more slowly now, because we used to be in such a hurry. But nothing has stopped evolving. And I don’t see any problem with technological advances being rapid and accelerating. The question is how—and through what mechanisms—we can balance this accelerated technological evolution with aspects that foster better human beings: mentally healthy, resilient, empathetic, and open to dialogue, differing viewpoints, inclusion, and diversity.

There are many essential elements to creating a culture of peace in schools. I know that one of them involves dialogue, accompanied by acceptance of others. I also know that, today, connections are important, although in “liquid” times there is no advantage to being part of multiple connections, because it is easy to disconnect from them without significant losses or costs.

There is a significant difference between connection and relationship, as aptly described by the Polish philosopher, sociologist, professor, and writer Zygmunt Bauman, for whom society, in today’s “liquid” contemporary world, is becoming increasingly empty—filled with online friends, but lacking offline connections. In Bauman’s own words, “a void that causes society to fall into a mindset of substitution and fear of loneliness, because, even before embarking on the search for connections, people already know the final outcome: if a person or connection leaves, they can be replaced by another without any problem.”

If we—teachers, educators, and those of us who work with and for education—want to create a culture of peace in schools and, by extension, in society, our zeitgeist (from the German “spirit of the times”) begins with the daily rebuilding of meaningful and affectionate relationships, in order to distinguish ourselves from and distance ourselves from on-off connections, in which there is neither emotional investment nor trust, since it is clear that such a relationship will come to an end sooner or later.

In other words, a culture of peace must be built within a new spirit of the times, in a concrete, lasting, and permanent way—not in a fluid, ephemeral way.

“Uncertainty is the natural habitat of human life—even though the hope of escaping uncertainty is the driving force behind human activities. Escaping uncertainty is a fundamental ingredient—one that is more than just tacitly assumed—in any and all composite images of happiness,” Zygmunt Bauman, 2009.

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