We didn’t always have a straightforward strategy for peacekeeping. Our top brass spent day and night working it out. We ordered lunch for the office and called to say we’d be home late or not at all. We assumed the remedy we were searching for would be full of complexities—minutiae that’d make even the most obsessive bean counter’s head spin. We ran simulation after simulation, but all our spurious theories came out in the wash.
In the end, we decluttered the old ways of thinking. Scratched out the chalkboard full of ideas. The answer had been in front of our eyes the whole time. It was straightforward. Elegant. Like a perfect mathematical proof. Our plan for peace was simple: Kill everyone.
The problem, we reasoned, was that when it came to any conflict (and especially our conflict), people were the constant. People, our experts argued, are what all violence has ever had in common. Remove them from the equation, and what remains? A light breeze. A bird call. The sound of rushing water.