It’s not every day you discover that the world’s most famous peace prize was founded by the man who gave humanity dynamite.

Yes, you read that right. Alfred Nobel, the patron saint of pacifism, the man whose name is whispered in tones of reverence every time a medal is draped over a laureate’s neck… was once better known for blowing things up.

A Blast from the Past
In 1867, Alfred Nobel patented his latest invention, a “safer” explosive.

Before then, the goto explosive was the highly unstable nitroglycerin, which had a bad habit of detonating at the slightest provocation, usually when you least wanted it to. Nobel tamed the beast by mixing it with diatomaceous earth, creating the world’s first commercially viable explosive: dynamite.

It changed everything. Suddenly, tunnels could be bored through mountains, canals carved through rock, and mines expanded faster than ever before. Humanity could literally move mountains.

Of course, the military quickly realised they could also move people, at high velocity, In several directions at once. Boom! The armaments industry never looked back.

A Reputation That Went Off
For a man who claimed to abhor war, Nobel made an awkward fortune from it.

His companies supplied the ingredients for both progress and destruction, and as the world industrialised, the line between the two grew rather thin.

Then came 1888. Alfred’s brother Ludvig died in France, and a local newspaper, getting its Nobels muddled, published an obituary for Alfred instead. Its headline?

“The Merchant of Death is Dead.”

Ouch.

It accused him of getting rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before. One can only imagine Nobel reading that over breakfast, mid-sip of coffee, muttering, “Well, that’s a bit harsh.”

But perhaps it struck a nerve. Because when Nobel actually did die seven years later, his will contained a surprise that detonated across Europe’s elite like, well, dynamite.

From Detonations to Donations
Instead of leaving his millions to family or business partners, Nobel bequeathed almost his entire fortune to establish a series of annual prizes. These would reward those who brought “the greatest benefit to humankind.”

Among them: physics, chemistry, literature, medicine… and peace.

Cue the collective gasp of a Victorian world that suddenly had to reconcile the “merchant of death” with the “patron of peace.” It was as if Dr Frankenstein had set up a grant for ethical science.

A Prize with a Bang
Since 1901, the Nobel Peace Prize has been awarded to a curious cast of characters: world leaders, grassroots activists, the occasional controversial pick, and more than a few who’ve raised eyebrows higher than a startled aristocrat’s monocle.

So when certain modern politicians start campaigning for a peace prize, mentioning no names, Donald, it’s worth remembering the man whose name they’re invoking.

Because, in truth, the Nobel Peace Prize was born not out of tranquillity, but explosions.

Alfred Nobel’s legacy wasn’t peace itself. It was the hope that humanity could learn to build more than it destroys. That the spark of invention could, one day, outshine the flash of gunpowder.

And if that’s not the ultimate plot twist, the inventor of dynamite inspiring peace, then nothing is.

A Final Thought (Before Things Go Off Again)
Perhaps Nobel understood something most of us forget: that the line between chaos and creation is thin, and often paved with good intentions.

Maybe he realised that peace, like dynamite, needs careful handling.

So next time you see a headline about someone demanding a Nobel Peace Prize, spare a thought for the man who made it all possible, by blowing holes in mountains and, inadvertently, in his own reputation.

As legacies go, it’s a blast.

Copyright © Tom Kane October 2025

If you need a bit of explosive excitement in your life, try reading Walking Away from Midnight, book One in The Midnight Series. Click here.