The road teaches what war cannot

Reading about conflict in Lebanon often takes me back to 2006, when I commanded 15 Punjab as part of the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL). Those were demanding days, managing frequent violations along the Blue Line between Hezbollah and Israeli forces. The task required neutrality, restraint and professionalism — qualities expected of the Indian battalion and delivered with quiet confidence.

Yet, the most enduring lesson from that tenure did not come from conflict management, but from something far more ordinary — the act of driving.

Soon after arrival, all ranks were required to qualify for a UN driving licence at the UNIFIL headquarters in Naqoura. Confident of our men’s abilities, I assumed this would be routine. I was mistaken. From the first batch, only two passed. The rest returned visibly crestfallen.

The reason became clear on inquiry. The test in Lebanon was exacting. Conducted on a structured course with signals, slopes and tight turns, it required meticulous pre-drive checks, strict lane discipline, correct use of mirrors and indicators, and precise handling of situations such as hill starts and parking. Even minor errors led to failure. The test lasted nearly an hour, and most of us — including me — needed multiple attempts to pass.

Back home in India, driving tests are typically brief, conducted on simple tracks, and allow for a fair margin of error. The emphasis is on basic control rather than disciplined road behaviour. Passing is common; rigour is not.

But the deeper lesson lay beyond the test. It was visible on Lebanese roads, in the conduct of ordinary citizens. In a country recovering from war, I saw drivers display remarkable courtesy. Vehicles stopped well before pedestrian crossings, even if the pedestrian was only approaching. Drivers yielded space without hesitation. There was little honking, no aggression to get ahead, and a quiet respect for shared road space.

I found myself gradually adopting these habits. Today, back in my hometown of Patiala, I practise the same courtesies — offering way at intersections, acknowledging others with a simple gesture, avoiding unnecessary honking, and maintaining lane discipline. More often than not, these small acts are returned with a smile. Civility, it seems, is contagious.

The contrast is striking. If a war-affected nation like Lebanon can demonstrate such refined driving etiquette, what prevents us from doing the same?

The answer lies not in infrastructure, but in attitude.

Driving, like soldiering, demands discipline, awareness and respect for others. The road reflects our collective character. And sometimes, it teaches lessons that even war cannot.

advityanidhi14@gmail.com