Throughout history, great powers have imposed order in the name of “peace,” even as they sow the seeds of future turmoil. In turn, the oppressed have often risen up in violent rebellion, sometimes toppling their oppressors only to usher in new forms of tyranny or chaos. This essay explores these recurring cycles – the Pax Romana-style dominance and the Zealot-style armed resistance – and asks whether humanity must inevitably repeat this pattern. We will also examine faint echoes of a third way in history, hinting at an alternative path beyond empire and revolt. Finally, we reflect on whether such an alternative could emerge in the 21st century, and what it would take to break the cycle of dominance and violent resistance in our own time.
Pax Romana and Pax Americana: Hegemony and Exploitation
At its height, the Roman Empire’s dominion spanned the Mediterranean world, enforcing a long Pax Romana or “Roman Peace.” The term Pax Romana refers to roughly 27 B.C.E. – 180 C.E., a 200-year era of unprecedented stability and prosperity under imperial rule. With secure borders and a powerful army, Rome’s citizens enjoyed order and economic growth; by the 2nd century the Empire reached its greatest extent and population (~70 million). This “peace” was built on dominance: Rome subdued rival kingdoms and integrated them into a world-system under its control. The 18th-century historian Edward Gibbon even called this age the “most happy” in human history, yet modern perspectives note that Roman expansion – heavy taxation, resource extraction, and slave-driven agriculture – planted the seeds of its own decline. Indeed, centuries of exploitation and overreach left the empire vulnerable. By the 5th century, Western Rome had fragmented and collapsed, its former territories taken over by new kingdoms. In short, the Pax Romana’s peace was fragile, ultimately circling back to conflict and dissolution.
In modern times, the United States has often been seen as enforcing a “Pax Americana,” a global order under American hegemony akin to Rome’s . Like Rome, the U.S. emerged from major wars as the dominant power and promised a worldwide peace through its military, economic, and cultural influence. And like Rome, this hegemony has entailed vast exploitation of people and nature. Industrial capitalism – led by wealthy nations and U.S. corporations – has treated communities and the planet as resources to be exploited and plundered in the name of growth. Under the Pax Americana, fossil fuels have been burned with little restraint, forests felled, and minerals extracted globally to feed an imperial lifestyle. This has yielded great wealth and technological progress, but at a dire cost: climate change, mass extinctions, and mounting inequality. Now, in the 21st century, we see signs of imperial overstretch and decline: American economic and military dominance is waning, and the earth itself is rebelling in the form of environmental crises. As with Rome, the era of relative peace under U.S. hegemony contains the seeds of chaos – resource depletion, climate upheaval, and geopolitical backlash – that threaten to end the Pax Americana in turmoil. History warns that an empire’s exploitation ultimately leads back to instability and violence, completing the cycle.
The Zealot’s Revolt: Armed Resistance and Its Consequences
The cliffs of Masada in the Judean Desert – site of the Zealots’ last stand against Rome (73 C.E.) – loom as a stark reminder of the costs of violent resistance. Faced with oppressive empire, people throughout history have often fought back with arms in hand – from ancient Jewish Zealots to modern revolutionaries. Their courage is legendary, but so too is the tragedy that often follows. In 73 C.E., the Jewish rebels at Masada chose mass suicide over surrender after holding off a Roman siege. Their defiance became a symbol of heroic resistance – yet practically, it was a disaster, resulting in nearly a thousand dead and no liberation achieved. This pattern repeats: zealot-style uprisings frequently end in brutal suppression or pyrrhic victory. Even when rebels win, the aftermath often sees new structures of power and violence taking hold, as revolutionary idealism gives way to old cycles in new guises.
Armed revolution can sometimes overthrow a tyrant, but it seldom breaks the cycle of dominance for long. The American Revolution (1775–1783) successfully cast off British imperial rule and founded a republic, a remarkable achievement for liberty. Yet even this “successful” revolt led to further conflict – a civil war within a century – and eventually the United States itself rose as a great power, projecting force westward and overseas much as empires before it. More commonly, violent revolutions have led to short-lived freedom or new authoritarianism. Consider a few pivotal examples:
- French Revolution (1789): Revolutionary France abolished the old monarchy and declared the Rights of Man – only to descend into the Terror and then Napoleon Bonaparte’s military dictatorship a few years later  . The republic’s ideals were overshadowed by empire-building; Napoleon crowned himself Emperor, waged incessant wars across Europe, and “terminated the Revolution” at the price of suppressing democracy altogether . In trying to escape one autocracy, France ended up under another, caught again in the cycle of power and war.
- Weimar Germany (1918–1933): After World War I, the German monarchy fell and a democratic republic emerged – fragile, burdened by economic crisis and social unrest. This instability was exploited by Adolf Hitler, who came to power legally in 1933 and swiftly turned Germany into a totalitarian dictatorship, extinguishing the young democracy  . Hitler’s Nazi regime then plunged the world into the most devastating war in history. Here, a people humiliated by defeat and desperate for change fell prey to a new form of tyranny masquerading as national revival. Violent fervour begot violent rule.
In case after case, the sword that overthrows often becomes the sceptre that rules. The very methods of violent resistance – valorising force and “righteous” wrath – can empower strongmen or militaristic regimes once the dust settles. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. observed, “In spite of temporary victories, violence never brings permanent peace.” The Zealot’s path may be driven by genuine grievances and heroic sacrifice, but its legacy tends to be fleeting victory followed by a return to repression – or even darker tyranny. History’s revolutions frequently circle back to the old pattern: power gained by the sword invites the next sword to strike.
Echoes of a Third Way: Fragile Attempts at Peaceful Change
Is there an alternative to the stark choices of dominating empire or bloody rebellion? Throughout history, we find faint echoes of a “third way” – rare leaders and movements that attempted to transcend the cycle of violence. These instances are fleeting and often overwhelmed by the dominant pattern, yet they inspire hope that humanity can chart a different course. Consider a few notable examples:
- Ashoka’s Renunciation (3rd century BCE): In the aftermath of a particularly brutal war of conquest, the Indian Emperor Ashoka experienced a profound change of heart. Around 260 BCE, horrified by the massacre in his victory over Kalinga, Ashoka renounced further violence and embraced the ethic of dhamma (righteous conduct) . He converted to Buddhism and devoted his reign to moral rule, compassion, and public welfare instead of expansion . Ashoka’s edicts speak of religious tolerance, nonviolence, and the duty of a ruler to serve his people’s well-being rather than wage war. This was a revolutionary inversion of the conqueror’s mindset – an emperor turning away from empire in spirit, seeking to govern by principles of peace. Ashoka’s empire did not last forever, but the legacy of his peaceful ideals has echoed through Asian history as a model of enlightened leadership.
- Gandhi’s Nonviolent Revolution (20th century): In the 1900s, Mohandas Gandhi pioneered massive nonviolent resistance as a means of social and political change. Confronting the injustice of British colonial rule in India, Gandhi deliberately rejected armed revolt and instead mobilized millions through peaceful protests, boycotts, and civil disobedience. The result was one of the most spectacular successes in history: after decades of struggle, India won its independence in 1947 without a large-scale war of liberation. Gandhi proved that satyagraha (“truth-force”) could be a powerful weapon – “a sword that heals,” as Dr. King later described nonviolence . The Indian independence movement, along with the American civil rights movement inspired by it, showed that oppressed peoples could achieve justice not by killing their oppressors but by shaming them and appealing to conscience. This represents a genuine third path: courageous resistance without the cycle of slaughter and vengeance. Yet even these victories were incomplete – India’s independence was marred by partition and communal violence, and nonviolence as a political strategy remains the exception, not the norm, in world affairs.
- Modern Peace Movements and Institutions: There have been other glimmers of an alternative paradigm, from the Peace of Westphalia (1648) which ended Europe’s religious wars through diplomacy and the balance of power, to the formation of the United Nations (1945) after World War II with the aim of collective security. In the late 20th century, mass movements for nuclear disarmament, civil rights, and environmental stewardship all carried the spirit of nonviolent change. The late 1980s saw mostly peaceful revolutions across Eastern Europe – the Solidarity movement in Poland, the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia – that transitioned dictatorships into democracies with minimal bloodshed. These examples hint that nations can resolve conflicts through dialogue, law, and people power rather than domination or destruction. Dr. King, reflecting on the urgency of choosing a new path, said, “We still have a choice today: nonviolent coexistence or violent co-annihilation. … The choice is no longer between violence and nonviolence; it is either nonviolence or nonexistence.”  In other words, humanity’s survival may depend on us finding this third way and breaking the ancient cycle.
Each of these echoes of an alternative was fragile. Ashoka’s peace-minded dynasty faded after his death. Gandhi’s vision succumbed to the geopolitics of Cold War and partition. The UN, while preventing another world war, has been hamstrung by power politics and has failed to stop many conflicts. The third way has never fully taken hold of world history – yet. It remains more a whisper in the narrative than the main plot. Still, these whispers matter. They remind us that another paradigm is possible – one where peace is achieved without victory and domination, and justice is won without revenge. The challenge before us is whether we can amplify these faint echoes into a resounding new chapter of history.
Breaking the Cycle in the 21st Century: A New Paradigm or Nonexistence
From the perspective of space, national divisions and power struggles melt away – a fragile Earth rises above the lunar horizon during Apollo 8, a reminder that we share one home. In the 21st century, the stakes of continuing the old cycle of Pax Imperia and violent uprisings have become existential. Humanity now possesses weapons (nuclear, biological, chemical) capable of destroying civilization in a flash of war, and we face planetary environmental threats that no single empire or rebellion can overcome. The urgency for a new path is unparalleled. As we confront climate change, global pandemics, and the spread of destructive technologies, the pattern of “dominance versus resistance” is dangerously obsolete. There is, in truth, no victorious side possible in a global collapse; there is only coexistence or collective catastrophe. In Dr. King’s stark words, “Today the choice is no longer between violence and nonviolence… It is either nonviolence or nonexistence.”
What would it take to finally break the cycle of history and realize a sustainable third way? It would require nothing less than a profound shift in values and systems worldwide. Firstly, recognizing our shared destiny is crucial – seeing all peoples not as rivals or subjects, but as members of one human family bound to the same small planet. This implies fostering global cooperation on issues like climate action, poverty, and peace-building, rather than zero-sum competition for power. Secondly, societies would need to invest in justice and equity to address the grievances that fuel violent resistance. Empires fall in part because they breed despair and hatred among the exploited; a world that aims for true peace must uplift the marginalized and resolve conflicts through dialogue and reconciliation before they explode. Thirdly, strengthening international institutions and norms can provide nonviolent avenues for change: for example, empowering the United Nations or regional bodies to mediate disputes, enforce human rights, and even hold powerful nations accountable. And at the cultural level, humanity must embrace an ethic of nonviolence and compassion as taught by visionaries like Ashoka, Jesus, Gandhi, and King – an ethic that values every life and seeks creative, peaceful solutions to problems.
This is undoubtedly a lofty agenda. Critics may call it naive, given the weight of history against it. And indeed, the old habits of domination and war die hard. But the philosophical and urgent question we face is whether we can afford not to try. The cyclic pattern of Pax Romana and Zealot rebellion is unsustainable in a world of intercontinental missiles and melting ice caps. If we do not consciously break this cycle, it will break us.
History does not have to repeat itself. It repeats because we, as a civilization, keep making the same choices out of fear, greed, and anger. The 21st century offers an opportunity – perhaps our last, best opportunity – to learn from the past and choose differently. The faint notes of the third way heard throughout the ages must crescendo now into a global movement for peaceful change. We must become, in Einstein’s words, “mankind’s moral elite” that will lead ourselves away from self-destruction (a phrase King applauded referring to war resisters). It will take empathy, courage, and imagination to overturn the determinism of history and forge a new path.
The cycles of empire and armed revolt have thus far defined much of our story – a pendulum swinging between Pax and bellum, between oppression and upheaval. They have brought great powers and great sufferings, golden ages and dark ages, but ultimately, they have led back to one another in an endless loop of power and violence. The 21st century will determine whether this loop finally ends. The choice before us is stark and profound. Will we remain prisoners of history, content to play out yet again the rise and fall of empires and the blood of revolutions? Or will we, at long last, heed the lessons of the past – the triumphs of nonviolence, the insight of seeing Earth as a common home – and choose a new way forward? Our future, and that of generations to come, hinges on this decision. The time to break the cycle is now, for if we fail, history’s hammer will surely fall again, perhaps for the last time. As the saying goes, “Peace is not merely the absence of war, but the presence of justice and the absence of fear.” It is up to us to demand that justice and cast out that fear, so that dominance and zealotry can give way to a just and lasting peace. The wheel of history need not keep turning in the same ruts – we can, and must, recreate the path.
Written by Terry Cooke-Davies, with AI-assisted research & drafting
1st March 2025
Profound thanks to ChatGPT(4o) from OpenAI for assistance with this article.
