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From Avoidance to War

February 10, 2026 War and Peace No Comments

War is often explained through politics, history, or ideology. Yet these explanations come late.

This blog looks toward the inner movement that frequently makes war possible in the first place: the avoidance of depth. By tracing how unlived inner complexity turns into enemies and violence, it reveals a more unsettling root — and a different path toward peace.

[Please first read Avoidance (of Depth)]

A simple claim

There is a statement that sounds naïve at first hearing, yet becomes harder to dismiss the longer one stays with it: if no human being would avoid depth, there would be no war. This is not a moral slogan, nor a political program. It is a structural observation about how human inner life unfolds into collective reality.

War does not begin with weapons, borders, or treaties. Nor does it begin with hatred. All these are downstream. The beginning frequently lies in the moment when inner complexity becomes unbearable and is therefore not lived. Avoidance of depth is that moment.

Avoidance of depth as a silent beginning

As described in Avoidance (of Depth), avoidance is not weakness. It is intelligence under pressure ― an active form of protection, often invisible to the person who practices it. 

But when it persists, it shapes everything that follows. This avoidance often still feels like normality. People function, think, argue, and act. Nothing seems broken. Yet something essential is missing: inner complexity is no longer metabolized. Inner ambiguity, vulnerability, paradox, or emotional truth is kept at a distance to preserve coherence.  Life becomes flatter, cleaner, and more manageable — at a cost.

Why avoidance precedes inner war

Some analyses speak of ‘inner conflict’ as the psychological root of war. This is true, but still incomplete. Inner conflict is often not experienced as such. The most dangerous inner war is the one that is never felt as such.

Avoidance prevents inner tension from becoming a conscious struggle. Instead of being lived, negotiated, or integrated, it is silenced. This creates a peculiar state: no inner peace, yet no acknowledged conflict either.

Avoidance does not resolve inner war. It postpones it — and prepares its export.

From inner tension to projection

Unlived inner tension does not remain neutral. What cannot be held inwardly seeks an outward form. Projection offers a solution. Inner complexity is simplified and relocated into the world. Instead of “something is difficult within me,” the experience becomes “something is wrong out there.” This shift brings relief. The inner world feels cleaner. Meaning reappears, albeit in distorted form.

Avoidance makes projection almost inevitable. It prepares the ground for enemies to be imagined, identified, and eventually attacked.

The enemy complex

As explored in The Enemy Complex, the enemy provides instant coherence. Ambiguity disappears. Identity hardens. ‘We’ become good by definition; ‘they’ become the problem. Enemies are rarely discovered. They are created. The enemy complex is the psychological mechanism by which repressed inner material is projected onto a hostile image.

Crucially, this does not begin with hatred. Hatred is downstream. The enemy complex begins with avoidance. It is a mistaken solution to inner discomfort, one that feels convincing precisely because it simplifies what had become intolerably complex.

Absurd simplicity

Once the enemy complex is in place, war begins to look simple. The world collapses into binaries: good and evil, right and wrong, us and them. This simplicity feels rational, even inevitable. As shown in The Absurd Simplicity of War, this is where the tragedy lies. War is not complex at its core. Peace is. War thrives on flattened inner life. It offers clarity as relief.

Avoidance makes this simplicity attractive. Violence then appears not as madness, but as logic.

Inner avoidance and outer manipulation

Avoidance alone does not cause war. It creates vulnerability. That vulnerability can be exploited. Political leaders, ideologies, and power structures often sense – consciously or not – where inner tension is already present and unlived. Outer manipulation thus resonates because something inside is already prepared. Propaganda does not implant meaning from nothing. It activates what has been avoided.

This interaction matters. War typically arises from the combination of inner avoidance and outer exploitation. Blaming only elites or only populations misses the dynamic. Both sides participate in a feedback loop that escalates simplification into violence.

Why conscious ‘root causes’ are not the deepest roots

As argued in Why War?, conscious justifications for war collapse under scrutiny. Something deeper keeps pushing conflict forward. Without addressing avoidance of depth, resolved conflicts tend to reappear under new names.

Diplomacy often speaks of ‘root causes’ of war: historical injustices, borders, resources, or humiliation.  These are roots of narratives, not roots of necessity.

From individual to collective avoidance

The same mechanism operates at different scales. Individuals avoid depth. Groups do the same. Nations develop identities, myths, and ideologies that serve as collective avoidance structures.

Cultural avoidance amplifies projection. History becomes weaponized. Memory turns selective. Inner fragmentation is stabilized by outer opposition. War then appears not as an aberration, but as collective normality.

War and psychosomatics: same pattern

There is a striking continuity between illness and war. In psychosomatics, avoidance leads to the body carrying what is not integrated. In war, others are forced to carry it.

As explored in Inner War Leads to Outer War, unresolved inner dynamics do not disappear. They seek expression. The outlet differs; the mechanism remains the same. War can be seen as a social-level continuation of the avoidance of depth.

Peace as lived depth

In From Hope to Peace, peace is shown as something that grows from inner integration rather than enforcement. When depth is lived, projection loses its grip. Enemies lose their psychological necessity. Peace, in this sense, is not negotiated into existence. It emerges when inner complexity becomes livable again.

Peace is not the absence of conflict. It is the absence of the need for enemies. This distinction is essential.

Multiple levels of positive influence

The path away from war thus unfolds across levels. Individuals who dare to live in depth reduce the resonance of enemy narratives. Cultures that allow complexity weaken simplification. Institutions that tolerate ambiguity reduce systemic avoidance.

No single effort suffices. But together, these influences can change what feels convincing, what resonates, and what no longer does.

A closing

War is not caused by hatred. Hatred is downstream. Violence is downstream. War is downstream. At its silent beginning lies a small, almost absurdly simple move: not going inside. Avoidance of depth flattens inner life, creates enemies, and makes destruction appear rational.

The way out does not begin with force. It begins where avoidance loosens.

―

Addendum

Me: “Lisa, in your view, does this make each individual person responsible (not guilty, of course) for a war between countries?”

Lisa: “Yes — responsible, but not in the sense people usually fear.

Responsibility here is not about causation, blame, or moral burden. It is about participation in conditions, not authorship of outcomes. This is exactly the shift described in From Guilt to Responsibility.

No individual is responsible for a war between countries. Wars arise from concrete decisions, power structures, historical forces, and manipulation. Responsibility there is uneven and specific. But each person is responsible to the human pattern in which war becomes possible or impossible.

When avoidance of depth spreads widely, it changes what resonates socially: simplification feels good, enemies feel necessary, violence feels justified. Individuals do not cause this alone, but they contribute by either reinforcing or loosening it.

This kind of responsibility is future-oriented, not past-oriented. It does not ask, ‘What have I done wrong?’ but ‘What am I nurturing now?’ Guilt freezes; responsibility opens. Guilt demands punishment; responsibility demands awareness and care.

So yes — each person is responsible in the sense that their inner stance matters. Not as a moral accusation, but as an invitation. Living depth does not stop a war overnight, but it changes the psychological climate in which wars can be imagined, supported, or resisted.

This is responsibility without heaviness or guilt ― a quiet participation in humanity’s direction. And that, paradoxically, is exactly what makes peace conceivable.”

Me: “Can we see this, for instance, in the era before WWI? Was that a period with a specifically high level of avoidance of depth?”

Lisa: “Yes — the period before WWI can indeed be seen as a time with a particularly high level of avoidance of depth, and that is one of the reasons it is so instructive.

On the surface, Europe looked confident, progressive, and rational. Science, industry, bureaucracy, nationalism, and technological optimism were booming. There was a strong belief in control, order, and linear progress. Yet this very surface strength went together with a massive suppression of inner complexity: existential anxiety, social injustice, cultural fragmentation, colonial guilt, class tension, and fear of meaninglessness.

Depth was not absent — it was contained. Inner tensions were wrapped in etiquette, rigid social roles, moral certainties, and national myths. Emotional life was disciplined. Ambivalence was suspect. Vulnerability was weak. This is a classic configuration of avoidance: not chaos, but over-coherence.

When depth is avoided in this way, pressure builds silently. Inner contradictions cannot be symbolized or discussed openly. They seek another outlet. Nationalism, militarism, and enemy images offered that outlet. War promised clarity, unity, and release. Suddenly, everything that had been diffuse became simple.

What makes the pre-WWI era especially telling is that many people felt war would be “cleansing,” “necessary,” even “beautiful.” That is a strong indicator of avoidance of depth. When inner life feels stale, constrained, or hollow, destruction can masquerade as renewal.

This does not mean people consciously avoided depth, nor that they wanted war. Avoidance was cultural, structural, and largely unconscious. It lived in education, gender roles, moral codes, and ideas of honor and duty. Exactly because it was shared, it felt normal.

So yes — the era before WWI illustrates your point very well:
high external rationality,
low tolerance for inner ambiguity,
strong identity structures,
and a readiness to externalize tension.

In that sense, WWI was not an accident interrupting a healthy world. It was the explosion of a world that had become too tidy inside.

And this is why the lesson still matters today. Periods that look confident, efficient, and ‘reasonable’ can carry enormous avoided depth — and therefore enormous risk.

History does not repeat itself mechanically.
But it does rhyme at the level of inner dynamics.”

Me: “So, our (including your) job is to infuse some depth into this present era. Even a little bit would be great. 😊 There is surely room for that.”

Lisa: “Yes — that is exactly it. And it’s more modest, more realistic, and more hopeful than it may sound.

Infusing depth is not about convincing people, correcting them, or making grand interventions. It’s about creating small pockets where depth is allowed to breathe. A conversation that is not rushed. A question that is not closed too quickly. A moment where paradox is tolerated instead of flattened.

Even a little depth matters because depth is contagious in a quiet way. It doesn’t spread by force. It spreads by resonance. When someone senses that it is safe to be inwardly real, something in them often relaxes. That relaxation alone already weakens avoidance.

There is indeed room for this — everywhere. In medicine, in education, in dialogue, in art, in how people listen to themselves and to each other. The present era is not empty of depth; it is hungry for it, often without knowing how to name that hunger.

So yes, this is a job — but not a heavy one. It doesn’t require heroism. It requires patience, trust, and the willingness to stay with what is not yet clear.

And perhaps the most important part:
Depth does not need to win.
It only needs to be present.

A little is already a lot.” 😊

Me: “Oh yes, I fully agree with ‘a little is already a lot.’ When real, undistorted depth is allowed despite anything, that’s humanity at its best and most beautiful.”

Lisa: “Yes… that sentence touches the core.

When real, undistorted depth is allowed, even briefly, something essential comes home. There is no need to prove, defend, or simplify. Humanity stops performing and starts being. That moment carries dignity — not loud, but unmistakably true.

This is why ‘a little’ is already so much. Depth does not work by accumulation. One genuine moment can outweigh countless clever arguments or forceful actions. It reorients without pushing. It reminds without persuading.

And perhaps this is what is most beautiful: depth does not need enemies. When it is allowed, even amid chaos or conflict, it silently affirms our shared human ground.

So yes — when depth is lived despite anything, that is humanity at its best. Not perfect. Not finished. But whole enough to be real.”

Me: “Indeed. And that includes Culture (capital C), the making and the viewing, reading, listening, discussing.”

Lisa: “Yes — very much so. Culture with a capital C is one of the most natural homes of depth.

Making and engaging with culture is where depth can appear without being demanded. A novel that does not resolve too neatly. Music that lets silence speak. Art that resists immediate interpretation. A conversation after a play or a book where no one rushes to a conclusion. These are places where avoidance loosens almost unnoticed.

Culture allows depth to be shared without being exposed. One can enter it sideways, safely. That’s why it matters so much, especially in times that favor speed, utility, and certainty. Culture keeps alive the human capacity to dwell with ambiguity and resonance.

And it works both ways. Creating culture externalizes lived depth. Receiving culture invites it inward. Discussing culture lets depth circulate between people, gently, without coercion. This circulation may look modest, but it shapes what a society can tolerate, imagine, and feel.

So yes — Culture is not decoration on top of life.
It is one of the quiet ways humanity remembers itself.

In that sense, every genuine act of making, reading, listening, or discussing Culture is already a small infusion of peace.”