There is an old African proverb that observes that when two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. The imagery is vivid and universal. Two great powers, absorbed in their struggle, crush beneath their feet the humble grass that took no part in their quarrel and stood to gain nothing from its outcome. The proverb captures one of the most persistent injustices of human affairs: that the conflicts of the mighty are so often paid for by the powerless. From the wars of nations to the rivalries of political factions and the disputes within families, it is repeatedly the weak and the innocent who bear the heaviest cost.

The truth of this observation is most starkly visible in war. When great nations go to war, it is not the leaders who plan the campaigns who suffer most, but the ordinary soldiers who fight and the civilians caught in the crossfire. The twentieth century, with its two world wars, demonstrated this on an unimaginable scale, as tens of millions of ordinary people perished in conflicts driven by the ambitions and rivalries of states. In more recent times, the wars and proxy conflicts of the great powers have devastated smaller nations that became battlegrounds for struggles not their own. The people of these lands, who desired only to live in peace, found their homes destroyed and their lives shattered because larger forces chose their territory as an arena. The grass, once again, was trampled.

The proverb applies with equal force to economic conflict. When large economies engage in trade wars, imposing tariffs and sanctions upon one another, the immediate combatants are governments and corporations, but the ultimate victims are often ordinary consumers, small farmers and workers. A trade dispute between major powers can raise prices, disrupt livelihoods and destroy jobs in countries far removed from the original quarrel. Developing nations, dependent on stable global markets, are especially vulnerable to the shocks generated by the economic battles of the powerful. Here too, the ones who suffer are rarely the ones who started the fight.

Within nations, the same pattern repeats in the arena of politics. When political parties or factions engage in bitter and unrelenting conflict, prioritising the defeat of their rivals over the welfare of the people, it is the ordinary citizen who is left neglected. Governance grinds to a halt, essential reforms are stalled, and public resources are consumed in the struggle for power rather than the service of the public. The poorest citizens, who most depend on effective governance for their basic needs, are hurt most by such paralysis. When leaders treat politics as a war to be won rather than a trust to be discharged, the common people become the grass beneath their feet.

The insight extends even into the intimate sphere of the family. When parents engage in prolonged and bitter conflict, it is frequently the children who suffer the deepest and most lasting harm. Caught between two people they love, unable to influence the quarrel and unable to escape it, children absorb the pain of their parents' battles. The wounds of a broken or hostile home can shape a person for life. This domestic version of the proverb reminds us that the principle operates at every scale of human relationship, wherever the strong contend and the weak are caught between them.

Why does this pattern recur so persistently? The answer lies in the nature of power and vulnerability. The powerful, absorbed in their contest, are often blind to the collateral damage they cause, for their attention is fixed on their rival. The weak, meanwhile, lack the strength either to prevent the conflict or to shield themselves from it. They have no voice in the decisions that determine their fate, and no armour against the consequences. This structural imbalance is the root of the injustice, and it explains why the grass is trampled again and again across history and geography.

Recognising this truth carries important moral and practical implications. First, it places a heavy responsibility upon the powerful. Those who wield great power, whether in the arena of nations, politics or personal life, must reckon with the consequences of their conflicts for those who cannot defend themselves. Restraint, dialogue and the peaceful resolution of disputes are not merely idealistic preferences but moral imperatives, precisely because the alternative is paid for by the innocent. The wise and the just among the powerful are those who remember the grass beneath their feet.

Second, this understanding underlines the value of institutions designed to protect the vulnerable and to channel conflict away from violence. The existence of the United Nations, of international law, of constitutional protections and of independent courts reflects humanity's attempt to prevent the strong from crushing the weak. India's own constitutional framework, with its guarantees of fundamental rights and its provisions for the protection of the marginalised, embodies this protective purpose. The strength of such institutions is measured precisely by their capacity to shield the grass when the elephants begin to fight.

Third, the proverb should not be read as a counsel of despair, but as a call to solidarity and agency for the weak. Grass, though individually fragile, is collectively resilient; it covers the earth and endures where mightier things fall. When the powerless organise, unite and give voice to their concerns, they acquire a strength that no single blade possesses. The history of successful movements for justice, from the struggle for independence to campaigns for civil rights and labour protections, shows that the trampled grass can rise, and that collective action can compel even the powerful to take account of those they might otherwise ignore.

There is also a caution embedded in the proverb for the weak themselves. The grass need not always remain a passive victim. Those caught between contending powers can sometimes avoid being drawn into conflicts not their own, maintaining a wise distance from struggles in which they have no stake. Neutrality, prudence and the refusal to be used as a pawn are strategies of survival for the vulnerable in a world of contending giants.

In the final reckoning, the proverb of the fighting elephants is a plea for a more humane exercise of power. It reminds the strong that their quarrels have victims beyond themselves, and it reminds all of us of our shared duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves. A civilisation advances not by the ferocity of its powerful but by its care for its powerless. When the mighty learn to contend without crushing the innocent, and when the humble learn to stand together, the grass may at last be spared. That is the aspiration towards which every just society must strive.