At the end of the week, I was in a series of exchanges with leaders of a student organization and a high-profile professor at Columbia about a possible event where the professor and I would discuss an issue adjacent to nuclear weapons, doing so from his discipline’s perspective. He was initially very enthusiastic, only to renege on Friday evening by stating that he knew “NOTHING” about the issue, and thus had to bow out of the plans.

I was sorely disappointed to read his message in the car, as my husband was driving to Vermont and our youngest son and dog were tolerating the long ride. It was my husband’s birthday, and at the celebratory breakfast that morning, I had told him about this development as he shared in my excitement. So, in the car, I at first thought to skip giving him the update, only to blurt out “He backed out!” about 15 minutes later.

Despite Emlyn’s best reassurances and the clean Vermont air, I seemed to have repeated dreams about some kind of a rejection and change of plans. I’d like to think that I was mostly upset by the loss of an opportunity for an interesting conversation and the refusal of many of our public intellectuals to engage with such a critical issue of our time. But of course, some of this had to do with my own feelings. Humans are after all wired to despise social rejection, experiencing it even as physical pain, from birth to our last days on Earth. We wouldn’t be such a successful species if it were not so.

And then I woke up. As has become a ritual for many in the age of smart phones and more, I checked my email within the first 30 minutes or so. “US and Israel Attack Iran,” a good friend’s message seemed to blare. As I quickly checked the news, my heart sank instantly.

The previous evening, while contemplating the professor’s email, I knew enough not to write back right away. What I’d settled on was that I would respond cordially, eventually, and maybe even never. I was hurt after all. But after reading the news about Iran, I realized how petty my thinking had been, and I quickly sent a simple message. “It’s ok. The world has bigger problems than us not getting to discuss this issue.”

I’m still upset, but I think the personal feelings have largely dissipated. I’m now “only” mad at the state of our world, worried for the people of Iran and the broader Middle East, and concerned about an escalation leading to a global war that could even turn nuclear.

Only.

Countless people around the country and the world must be feeling the same way. How is it that the American people so often seem to vote for a peace candidate, and yet, all we’ve gotten for decades is war, war, and more war? How is it that in an age where we can fly to any corner of the globe, use translation devices to speak to anyone in the world, and communicate in ways that would have been unthinkable even decades ago, we still consider war, violence, and the threat of annihilation to be acceptable actions on the part of a government that is supposed to represent our best interests?

Being mad at the professor for backing out of plans to think together about nuclear weapons is symbolic of my disappointment in so many public figures with large platforms who shy away from difficult conversations on war and peace, a topic deeply intertwined with many other key features of our society, like the economy, healthcare, and equality. Rather than advocate for peace, dialogue, respect for international law, and disarmament, so many stay in their lane, ignoring the elephant in the room in a world drowning in conflict and heading for the brink. No wonder regular Americans have lost faith in our best and brightest. There are of course notable exceptions, like a different high-profile Columbia Professor, Jeffrey Sachs, who never shies away from telling the truth. But the number of academics who meaningfully advocate for humanistic values and against forces that have led us into not just another war, but a supremely dangerous one, is rather small. What are they all afraid of? If they can’t speak up from the comfort of their tenure-protected jobs, what’s left for the average American?

The war in Iran is quickly bringing untold devastation into the region, from school strikes in Minab, to civilian disruptions in Israel, to potential American casualties at US military bases in the region. When it will end and how is anyone’s best guess. What is clear is that the suffering and desolation will continue, possibly for a long time. What is also clear is that the risk of an escalation that pulls in more of the major nuclear powers is all too real. Two nuclear weapons states have attacked a non-nuclear weapon state. While the message this sends is frightening, the potential consequences of the war are even more so. The least we can do is talk about it.