We like to say that history is the best teacher in the classroom of life. Yet time and again, we prove to be poor students, lingering at the bottom of the class, slow to learn and even slower to remember.

Like the so-called “goats” fondly described in PMA classes, we fail to absorb the lessons set before us. As George Santayana warned, those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

The Philippines has already been drawn twice into wars not of its own making—in 1917 and in 1941. We did not start them. We did not shape them. Yet we bore their cost in blood, in ruin, and in memory, because we were then a colony of a great power, without a will of our own.

In the First World War, we had no voice. Our fate was decided for us. Our people were trained and prepared for conflict as expendable manpower, deprived of the dignity of determining our own destiny.

The Second World War was far worse. Because we hosted the military installations of a former governing power, we became a battlefield. Our strategic location, dense with airfields, shipyards, and military barracks, made us a natural target. The bombs that fell were not meant for us, yet they consumed us all the same.

Manila became one of the most devastated cities of the war, second only to Warsaw. Civilians perished as entire communities collapsed. Families were torn apart, leaving widows and orphans in their wake. The destruction was deliberate, devastating, and deeply dehumanizing. It shattered not only our cities but the very fabric of our society.

We were not combatants at the outset, yet we became victims as our towns and cities were reduced to rubble. War came to us uninvited, and it stayed long enough to leave scars that endure to this day.

Today, we risk becoming a casualty once again as the world stands on a knife’s edge. Tensions among the major powers are rising, and armed conflicts have already broken out and continue to escalate.

Nations speak in the cold logic of intimidation, now shadowed by weapons capable of destruction beyond imagination.

The question that haunted us then confronts us now: will we again be drawn into a war not our own? The answer, unsettling as it may be, is that we may already be on that path.

Our involvement is already unfolding. Even without enemy troops on our shores, we feel the tremors. Our economy strains under rising costs. The lifeline of remittances from millions of overseas workers, especially those in regions at the center of conflict, is threatened. Supply chains falter, prices surge, and the burden falls, as it always does, on ordinary families.

We remain bound by alliances that promise protection yet carry peril. We still host strategic sites that, in times of war, invite attack. Our economy depends heavily on imported energy and on global trade that can be disrupted overnight.

A third world war, if it comes, will not unfold slowly. It will be swift, complex, and unforgiving. The shocks it will unleash could cripple nations. Once again, we may find ourselves caught in forces we neither created nor control.

We must not delude ourselves that we are too small or too distant to matter. History has already judged that illusion false. As the Tagalog saying reminds us, “Sakit ng kalingkingan, dama ng buong katawan” (A pinky pain is felt by the entire body).

The greater danger is a false sense of security, the belief that tensions will ease, that alliances alone will shield us, or that we will remain untouched by decisions made far beyond our shores.

We have been here before. We know how that story ends. For when great powers collide, smaller nations do not choose their fate. They endure and suffer.

While there is still time, we must think clearly and act with resolve. Our national interest must be anchored on long-term security and stability. Measures such as EO 110 must move beyond paper and into action, strengthening our economy and reducing our vulnerabilities.

We must approach alliances with clear eyes and steady judgment. They are necessary, but they must not bind us blindly to conflicts that are not of our choosing.

Above all, we must remember the human cost. War is not an abstract contest of power. It is suffering, broken families, and futures erased even before they begin.

We carry this history within us. It lives in our memory and in the lessons we might again ignore at our own risk.

We do not seek war because we do not benefit from it. We must do everything within our power to avoid being entangled once more.

Let us remember the haunting anti-war song made popular by the Kingston Trio, “Where Have All The Flowers Gone.”

And if we still refuse to learn, the question will no longer be where the flowers have gone, but whether anything is left to bloom.