The Loss Register of an Unwinnable War

By Teza (CDM)

As someone who once wore a military uniform, I cannot talk about war as an outsider. War is much more than battle maps, military plans, or weapons.

I once wore the uniform in the name of duty. I followed orders, respected discipline, and served with my unit. But underneath that uniform, I was still a human being with thoughts and feelings.

Over time, I came to understand one important truth: in war, there may be a winner, but no one comes out without suffering a loss.

When a military aircraft is destroyed in a civil war, one side may celebrate it as a victory while the other sees it as a defeat. But from the perspective of ordinary people, that aircraft is part of the country's property.

It is not just made of metal and machinery. It represents the country's resources, the work of engineers and workers, and the taxes paid by the people. No matter which side owned it, its destruction is a loss for the nation.

But an even greater loss than military equipment is human life.

In war, people are often reduced to numbers. A report that says "one killed, two wounded" may seem like simple statistics, but for a family, it changes their lives forever.

Every soldier has parents, loved ones, dreams, and plans for the future. No matter which uniform they wear, the loss of a human life is a loss for the whole country.

Whether someone dies on the military's side or the revolutionary side, there are families left behind with grief, pain, and lasting sorrow.

What I have learned is that war is not simply a fight between two sides. It slowly drains the strength, resources, and future of an entire society.

The money that could build schools, improve hospitals, or create opportunities for young people is instead spent on fighting.

Building a country takes years. Destroying it can happen in a very short time.

That is why we should not look at war only by asking, "Who is winning?"

We should also ask:

"How much has been lost?"

"How many lives have been changed forever?"

"What kind of future are we leaving for the next generation?"

These questions are just as important.

My experience taught me that the value of a human life is far greater than the value of any weapon.

As someone who served in the military, one of the hardest lessons was understanding the difference between seeing war from inside the institution and seeing it from outside.

To many people, a soldier is simply someone in uniform carrying a weapon. But behind that uniform is a person with feelings, a family, dreams, fears, and a conscience that knows the difference between right and wrong.

A military should exist to protect the country and its people. But sometimes there is a gap between that purpose and what actually happens.

When you begin to see that gap, difficult questions naturally arise.

"What does it really mean to protect the country?"

"What does it mean to protect the people?"

"What should duty truly be about?"

These are questions that cannot be ignored.

For a soldier, orders and discipline matter. But above both of them are human values and morality.

Real responsibility begins when a person thinks about the consequences of their actions.

Choosing to join the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM) was not an easy decision. It meant giving up a career built over many years, leaving behind a familiar life, risking personal safety, and accepting an uncertain future.

But there are moments when everyone must ask themselves:

"Which side am I standing on?"

"Is what I am doing truly helping the country and its people?"

Only by answering these questions honestly can someone move beyond simply following orders and begin taking real responsibility.

A nation cannot be built by weapons alone.

Its true strength comes from the trust of its people, the rule of law, justice, and mutual respect.

If an aircraft is destroyed, another one can be built. Buildings can be rebuilt.

But once a human life is lost, it can never be replaced. And once trust is broken, it takes many years to restore.

That is why the greatest loss in war is not weapons, territory, or military results. It is the damage done to people's hearts.

Behind every casualty is someone's child, someone's dream, and someone's future. These are the losses that often never appear in official records.

One thing I firmly believe is that a country's future depends not only on power. It depends on understanding, accountability, and the courage to learn from past mistakes.

One day, future generations will read about today's conflict in history books.

When that day comes, I do not think they will ask,

"Who won?"

Instead, they will ask,

"How much was lost because of this war?"

"What choices did people make?"

"What did they leave behind for future generations?"

A nation's true success is not measured by one side defeating another.

It is measured by its ability to rebuild trust, restore respect despite differences, and leave a better future for those who come after us.

Wars eventually come to an end.

But healing the wounds they leave behind, rebuilding trust, and restoring human values are responsibilities that begin the moment the fighting stops.

To me, the greatest victory in any war is not defeating an enemy.

It is preserving our humanity, even in times of hatred, while continuing to stand for truth and accountability.

In the end, aircraft can be destroyed. Weapons become outdated. Governments and power can change.

But the value of human life, and the history we leave behind, will remain with future generations.

So when we look back on this war, instead of asking "Who won?", we should ask a much more important question:

"How much did this country sacrifice, and what lessons did we learn from those sacrifices?"

I believe that when we truly understand those lessons, the loss register of this war will remain only as history—and never have to be written again.

This article has been selected, edited, and published as part of a column intended to strengthen the revolution by encouraging public discussion from different perspectives. The views expressed are those of the author alone and do not necessarily reflect the position of People’s Goal.