The Peacemaker's Code

by Deepak Malhotra

  It was with an appreciation for this history—and with a deep sense of humility due to our newfound ability to annihilate ourselves—that JFK addressed the UN General Assembly in 1961 and warned: “Mankind must put an end to war—or war will put an end to mankind.”

  ~ 94 ~

  Kilmer had come hoping to find Churchill’s Key—and Archidamus had delivered it to him.

  All social entities—just like individuals—will fight for survival. But the survival instinct does not define the community any more than it defines the individual. Security is one of many goals—one of multiple factors to consider in any decision. Security can even be compromised, at times, depending on how much there is to gain by doing so.

  Citadel was different. The desire to survive was not merely a functional trait, it was the defining characteristic of Citadel’s social, political, cultural, and military fabric. Self-preservation was not a consideration—it was the consideration. No amount of reward could justify accepting even a smidgen of existential risk.

  Kilmer’s own words came rushing back to mind.

  The ones who fear pain most of all are the ones who have never felt it before. Or those who have felt it so acutely that they will never allow themselves to be vulnerable again.

  Kilmer had been sure that a solution to the crisis, if one existed at all, depended on the answer to one question: What drives them? That question had now been answered. The desperate need to ensure survival was not merely a constraint that Citadel’s leaders had to consider when crafting policy or driving their agendas. It was the driving force itself.

  The need for security was what had launched Citadel into the far reaches of the galaxy. It is what still propelled them toward continued exploration. And it was what would push Citadel’s inhabitants—who wanted nothing more than to avoid another Forever War—into waging wars forever.

  But Kilmer didn’t have time to reflect on the irony of it all. His problem was of a decidedly less philosophical nature. Citadel’s leaders believed that human civilization posed a risk—and risks were not to be tolerated.

  He needed more information. How humans could possibly pose a risk, especially an imminent one, was hard to imagine. And what Citadel was planning—how it would eliminate human civilization—was still unknown.

  “I have a hard time understanding why humans pose a threat to your people,” he began. “You’ve studied our technological and military capabilities. We are no match for Citadel—neither now nor in any foreseeable future.”

  “A future in which Earth destroys Citadel is not foreseeable by you, Kilmer. But we can see it clearly. We have much greater experience in these matters.”

  “I understand that your people have suffered greatly, and that this suffering was at the hands of an alien race. But that doesn’t mean every alien race is willing or able to do such a thing.”

  “We know what humans are willing to do, Kilmer. As do you. I could quote your own writings to make the point. Human beings do not have a good track record of meeting new civilizations or empires and treating them well. That history, Kilmer, is why your civilization cannot be spared. There is no reason to think that humans will do anything other than intimidate, rob, manipulate, subjugate, or destroy the aliens they meet—especially when the aliens possess something of value or when they look different or scary. As for Citadel, humans would judge us to be guilty of all these crimes. You would never spare us. You would justify our destruction with ease.”

  Kilmer pushed back. “Human society has evolved, Archidamus. You know that. And we continue to move in the right direction. We struggle, yes, but we are working toward putting an end to war. Is that what I must convince you of? That you won’t have to fear the human beings of some distant future?”

  “Yes. And you can try, Kilmer, but you will not succeed. Even if you were to give examples of human generosity or provide data to suggest humanity might be inching toward peaceful coexistence, the overwhelming evidence points in the opposite direction. And we are not willing to accept even the slightest risk. As I told you, there can be no compromise when it comes to our security.

  “I can anticipate most of the arguments you will make. Unfortunately, they come nowhere close to addressing this problem. They don’t eliminate the risk we face.

  “You will point to parts of the globe where war is now rare. But so what if the nations of Europe have avoided total war for a few generations? What your people call the long peace is only a sliver of time in a much longer history of horrific continental wars. So what if Earth’s democracies almost never go to war with one another? They are still brutal when dealing with governments and societies that are differently structured. So what if humans have attempted, time and again, to create institutions that are designed to prevent war? You still do nothing to resolve your underlying conflicts. So what if structural conditions—such as a balance of power, or mutually assured destruction—make it less likely that Earth’s great powers will declare war on one another? There is no reason to believe that, when humans arrive at Citadel’s doorsteps, it will be under such conditions.

  “I could go on and on. Do you see the problem, Kilmer? By law, we must give you a chance to make the case for humanity, but there is a so what to every argument. It does not matter if you find some way to suggest we might be wrong in our analysis of what human beings will do in the future. You would have to prove there is no chance that we are right. You cannot simply poke little holes in the hull of this ship—you either sink the ship entirely, or it shows up on Earth’s shores. And when it does, there will be nothing left to discuss.”

  Kilmer did not offer a rebuttal. Earth’s track record was not easy to defend. And Archidamus was right—this was not the kind of debate in which the side that accumulated more points would be declared the victor. If the other side scored even a single point, Kilmer was defeated. Citadel would not take even the slightest chance. The fact that Earth might attack someday was enough. How could he possibly prove that this would never happen?

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was using the wrong metaphor—and it could lead him astray.

  This isn’t a debate. It’s a street fight—against someone bigger and stronger. You won’t win a war of attrition. You can’t let it go to the ground. You either strike a knockout blow or they pummel you to death on the pavement.

  He decided to change his line of attack.

  “I am curious why it even matters what our proclivities are. Even if I can’t convince you that we will be peaceful in the future, why would you attack us today? What’s the rush? We won’t even be able to find you, much less defeat you in battle, for hundreds or thousands of years. Based on what you’ve described, Earth is ten thousand years behind Citadel in technological development. So why the urgency? Why not reach some type of near-term accommodation with us—and if you don’t like how things are going, you can come back in a century or two and do what you must? Why not wait to attack?”

  “That is a good question, Kilmer. Unfortunately, there is a good answer to it. First, although Citadel is far more advanced, the rate at which humans are progressing is staggering. We have never seen anything like what humans have experienced in the last 200 Earth-years alone. There could be many reasons for this—you are different from us in many ways. But if I were to guess, it comes down to one key difference. Human imagination.

  “As I said earlier, human art is far more advanced, on every dimension, than what Citadel has ever known or encountered. I believe these two things—human creativity in the arts, and human innovation in technology—are intimately related. Every advancement in technology, including military technology, remains, foremost, a feat of imagination. This is where humans excel. It is an admirable quality, but it is also something Citadel must fear.

  “What took us thousands of years to do might take humans only a few hundred years. There is already very little that human scientists believe is theoretically impossible. Engineering problems persist, but you are solving them at
a startling rate. Might you be able to find us and wage war against us within the next 200 years? It is unlikely, but not impossible to imagine. Might you find a way to defend against our attacks in as little 50 Earth-years? That is also conceivable—and we cannot risk it.”

  An answer to the question that had bothered Kilmer from the very start was finally materializing.

  “The reason you chose to visit Earth at this particular time in our history—is it because of the progress we’ve made in recent years? You only came once we started to look like a threat?”

  “We not only had no reason to come sooner, but also no awareness that you existed. There are too many planets in the universe, and many of them have intelligent life. But we do not go looking for life to destroy, Kilmer. We go looking for technology against which we must protect ourselves. Civilizations that reach a certain level of advancement eventually start to leak their capabilities. They begin to explore. They launch things into space. They emit signals—intentionally and unintentionally. Those are the things we look for. When we detected those elements around your planet, we came. And what we found was more impressive—and more dangerous—than we could have predicted. In less than 70 Earth-years, your species had gone from inventing their first crude aircraft—which flew only ten feet off the ground for a few seconds—to putting a human being on the Moon.”

  “And that is what sealed our fate?” Kilmer asked. “If it weren’t for our technology, we would be safe?”

  “It is not technology alone. It is not human proclivities alone. It is the combination. You might find it hard to imagine, but there are planets on which intelligent beings coexist peacefully—where there is no such thing as war, as you and I conceive of it. And there are planets on which wars occur, but where they are a rare exception. That is not the story of Earth, unfortunately. At least, it has not been Earth’s story for the last 12,000 years.”

  12,000 years.

  Kilmer made the connection. “That is what you meant, Archidamus, when you said to me that your people are ‘not the ones who will have shot the first arrows.’ You weren’t referring to anything that we did in the last few weeks. You were referring to actual arrows.”

  “Yes. Almost 12,000 Earth-years ago is when humans made the first great strides in the journey that has led them to this day. The advent of agriculture allowed them to build sedentary communities. And the invention of the bow and arrow made it possible to kill at scale. It was the marriage of these two that allowed human beings to go from squabbling with other nomadic tribes to waging war against established communities.

  “Your ability to wage war grew steadily for thousands of years, and then exponentially in the last two centuries. There are only two constraints, Kilmer, on the kinds of weapons that a civilization can create. The laws of physics and the limits of imagination. The laws of physics will place some bounds on your capacity to create war. But human imagination has no limits. It is like nothing we have seen before.”

  Kilmer interjected. “So, the reason you’ve been reluctant to show us your capabilities is…”

  “Yes, Kilmer. This is why we have let humans take the initiative in all of our interactions. We are not allowed to show our capabilities to advanced civilizations. We do not want to give human beings any more ideas than they already have about what might be possible. This is why, for example, we waited for humans to devise a communication system rather than offer one of our own.

  “What humans came up with, not surprisingly, was ingenious. The way your people developed a system for us to communicate was impressive in its efficiency and effectiveness. Ironically, Kilmer, even that human achievement only confirmed for us that we were correct to worry about the pace of human progress. How hard would it really be for human beings—once they knew our capabilities—to find ways to defend against them? How long would it really take for human beings to reproduce our technologies, or even improve upon them, once they caught a glimpse of what was possible? Can you see how this might exacerbate the threat that we—”

  “We were just trying to talk to you!” Kilmer snapped, his anger getting the better of him and his voice suddenly rising. “We were just trying to welcome you to our planet! And even that you will hold against us? First it was our history. Then our creativity and our art. Then our imagination. Then the speed with which we made technological progress. Then the speed with which we should have created peace on Earth. All of these you deem to be punishable offenses. And now—simply finding a way to invite you into our home and to say hello—that too is a crime?” He was no longer shouting, but his voice conveyed both his rage and contempt. “How dare you say you’ve tried, Archidamus? How dare you tell me that your people have tried hard to avoid war with us? You’ve done nothing of the sort. You are simply looking for reasons to attack. You are looking for things to be afraid of. You are looking for anything that will help you justify the horrors you plan to unleash on yet another innocent civilization. Have you no shame? Do your people have no conscience?”

  Kilmer waited for an answer, but none came.

  “And what role do you expect me to play in this? You didn’t bring me here to convince your leaders that Citadel has made a mistake. All this time it’s been you trying to convince me that Citadel is justified in what it plans to do. Why? Do you think that if you can convince a student of human history that the people of Earth deserve such a fate, it will give you the license to pull the trigger? You won’t get that from me, Archidamus. I reject the notion that Citadel has the moral authority to decide our fate. I will not concede that. Ever.”

  The outburst hadn’t assuaged his anger. If anything, it had added a sense of hopelessness to the mix.

  This is impossible. They don’t want to even consider anything that might change their minds.

  Finally, Archidamus spoke.

  “I understand your frustration, Kilmer. It is a difficult situation. But I have not misrepresented your role here. You are here to help your people, precisely as I described. We are required by our laws to give an ambassador of the targeted planet an opportunity to make the case for their species. We are required to do this even in cases where there is almost no doubt regarding what the outcome will be. Nonetheless, your job is to see things we might have missed, and which might make us reconsider. You have not been able to do that yet—but it is a difficult task precisely because we have already given this a lot of thought. Because we have tried to understand the human perspective. I never hid from you the fact that you were not likely to change what happens. If you wish to give up now, I will understand. But if you would like to continue trying, we still have time to carry on the discussion. Do you wish to give up, Kilmer?”

  Kilmer could feel his anger rising again.

  “Do I wish to give up? Do I wish to get out of your way so that you can go ahead and destroy human civilization? Is that really your question? Fuck you, Archidamus. And fuck you to everyone else who is listening to this conversation! Have we taught you that phrase yet? If not, please look it up. And once you do, feel free to add profanity to humanity’s list of crimes. It might help you pass a stricter sentence.”

  “I understand the sentiment, Kilmer. But the question still needs to be answered. Are we giving up?”

  Kilmer felt exhausted. And he felt the situation was hopeless. But there was something else. He didn’t have all the facts. He hadn’t asked all of his questions. And that meant he could not be sure that things were hopeless—even if he could see absolutely no way out of this.

  He thought of Silla. He had promised her he would die trying. He wasn’t dead yet. He was just exhausted.

  “No. I don’t give up.”

  “Then tell me what you would like to discuss next.”

  Kilmer took a minute to calm down. He didn’t mind that he had lost his cool—he didn’t think they would punish him for it. And it was probably better than keeping the anger completely bottled up inside. But it was not the way forward. He could not think and hate at the same time. No one co
uld.

  He took a deep breath and organized his thoughts. What don’t you know? What are the missing pieces? Start with those.

  “Who decides, Archidamus? Who ultimately decides what happens? What is the process? Walk me through how we got here, and what happens next.”

  “As I mentioned earlier, Citadel has something known as a Consent Period, which occurs approximately once every 100 Earth-years. By law, all major decisions, including the decision to go to war, must be made during one of these periods. The only exception to this rule is if Citadel itself is under attack and needs to defend itself. There are few limits to what Citadel can do if it comes under attack first.

  “The discussion regarding Earth took place during the most recent Consent Period. That was almost twenty Earth-years ago. The armed forces of Citadel, along with two oversight bodies, were authorized to explore Earth and to make a judgment about whether its civilization should be left alone, engaged peacefully, or destroyed.”

  “Are those your only three options?”

  “Yes.”

  “There can’t be any fourth option? Under any circumstances?”

  “No. And we have already chosen not to leave you alone. So, there are only two options now. Unless we can make the case that Earth poses no future threat and deserves our peaceful engagement, the only remaining option is to destroy human civilization. But we are still not allowed to exterminate your species.”

  “And leaving us alone—even for a few years or for a few decades—why exactly is that not an option?”

  “It is not obvious how that would help humanity. It would only delay the inevitable for a few years, which is very little time in the broad span of human history. But for us, postponing the decision poses a problem. Citadel devotes a lot of resources to defense, but we are far from perfect in our ability to detect and eliminate threats. Timing and luck always play a role. We have other issues on our planet, and around the galaxy, that require our attention. There might be decades, even centuries, during which we cannot attend to a problem like this.