War: The Evolution of a Predator

We are accustomed to thinking of war as an event. Like a fire that flares up and dies down. Such naivety. War is not an event. It is a life form. An ancient, perfect apex predator that shares this planet with us. We are not its enemies. We are its food source.

Birth and Youth

In the beginning of time, War was single-celled. Primitive, like an amoeba. Stone struck stone, a club shattered a skull. It fed crudely, tearing off chunks of flesh, and quickly fell asleep.

In the Middle Ages, it entered puberty. It had a growth spurt. War became greedy, sloppy, and gluttonous. It mowed down entire cities without caring about tomorrow. The Hundred Years' War was its teenage rebellion—senseless and merciless. It gorged so much that it almost killed the host. During plague epidemics and endless battles, humanity nearly ended. War got scared. It understood the main law of the parasite: you cannot kill the host. If all humans die, there will be no one to feed on. 

The teenage rebellion of an ancient predator. A time when War was gluttonous and senseless, nearly consuming its own host—humanity.

Symbiosis and Diet

In the 20th century, War matured. It became a gourmet. World War I was its last breakdown, when it overate until it vomited blood. World War II was an attempt at selection. And then came maturity. The Cold War. This was a masterpiece of evolution. War switched to a low-calorie diet. Why kill millions of bodies, wasting resources? You can feed on pure, distilled fear. It learned to freeze conflicts, sucking energy through a straw for decades. It became respectable. Put on a suit, learned to talk about "deterrence" and "geopolitics." 

The predator has grown up. Why kill millions of bodies when you can suck the energy of fear through a cocktail straw for decades?

Digital Mutation

And then came the day when humanity decided it had won. Generals signed Eternal Peace. Rockets were sawed apart. Tanks were sent to be melted down. People rejoiced: "War is dead!" Fools. It didn't die. It shed its skin. Like a virus that became cramped in a biological cell, it moved into "digital."

It no longer needs iron and gunpowder. Now it lives in fiber optics. It is that comment under a post that makes your hands shake. It is fake news making a brother hate a brother. It is an algorithm polarizing opinions. In the silence of server rooms, only the hum of coolers is heard. There, in the wires, War purrs satiated. It has become immortal. It no longer needs your body. It needs your mind. 

War has shed its skin. Now it doesn't need your flesh. It needs your mind, polarized by fakes and algorithms in the silence of server rooms.