Kim Jong Un issued a statement condemning the U.S. attack on Venezuela
The world is not held together by desires, dreams, or shared hopes alone, but by the far more complex and uncomfortable balance of fear. While people often prefer to believe that cooperation arises naturally from goodwill, history repeatedly shows that stability emerges when consequences are clearly understood.
Fear, in this sense, is not blind terror but awareness: the understanding that actions carry costs and that boundaries exist. Civilizations, empires, and even modern international systems have relied on this principle, whether openly acknowledged or quietly enforced. Laws work not merely because people agree with them, but because violations invite punishment. Borders hold not simply because they are lines on maps, but because crossing them improperly has consequences. This balance of fear does not negate morality or justice; rather, it reinforces them by giving structure to ideals that might otherwise remain abstract. Without this balance, desires clash endlessly, each group seeking its own benefit without restraint. In such an environment, chaos does not arise suddenly—it grows gradually, as rules are questioned, limits are tested, and enforcement weakens. Fear, therefore, is not the enemy of order but one of its foundations, an uncomfortable truth that societies ignore at their own risk.
When a power demonstrates that it does not retreat, it is often misunderstood as acting out of ego or arrogance. In reality, such firmness is frequently less about pride and more about preserving order. Retreat, when misinterpreted as weakness, invites further challenges, each bolder than the last. History offers countless examples where concessions made in the name of peace only postponed conflict while emboldening aggressors. Firmness, on the other hand, establishes predictability. It signals that rules are not flexible based on pressure or convenience. This does not mean that compromise has no place, but compromise without strength is merely surrender by another name. A power that stands its ground communicates something essential: that certain lines exist not to dominate others, but to prevent the erosion of structure itself. In both domestic governance and international relations, consistency is crucial. When enforcement becomes selective, legitimacy collapses. The refusal to retreat, therefore, can function as a stabilizing force, anchoring systems that would otherwise drift toward disorder. Such firmness is not cruelty; it is discipline applied at a structural level.
Unity, often praised as the highest political and social ideal, does not come at zero cost. Stability is never built without sacrifice, whether economic, political, or moral. Every functioning system demands that individuals or groups accept limits on their freedom in exchange for collective security. This exchange is rarely comfortable, and it is almost never universally popular. Those who benefit least from unity often resist it most, while those tasked with enforcing it bear heavy burdens of responsibility. History shows that periods of peace are often preceded by difficult decisions—decisions that involved loss, restraint, or confrontation. The idea that harmony can be achieved without pain is appealing but unrealistic. Stability requires maintenance, and maintenance requires effort and, at times, forceful action. Sacrifice does not always mean violence; it can mean restraint, vigilance, or enduring criticism for making unpopular choices. The refusal to acknowledge this cost leads to fragile systems built on illusion rather than resilience. True unity is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to contain it within rules that are respected and enforced.
