As I watch events unfold, I increasingly get a feeling of deja vu, as if the 1930s are happening all over again. I want to hope that there will actually be peace, but frankly, it strikes me as being all too like the sort of peace that a certain British Prime Minster famously brought back from meeting with a certain Jew-hating totalitarian. “Peace in our time” too often becomes simply a pause before far worse trouble comes. Confronting evil now is usually better than confronting it later. False peace is worse than what it seeks to solve; it is like giving morphine to a man with appendicitus. “There, don’t you feel better now?” And surely he does, until his appendix bursts.
Send to Kindle