Scholarly readings of the Mahābhārata often emphasize that its portrayal of war is deliberately ambivalent and morally complex. The Kurukṣetra conflict is framed as a dharma-yuddha, yet the narrative dwells on devastation, remorse, and the psychological burden borne even by the so‑called victors. Rather than glorifying heroism, the text lingers on grief, loss, and the near‑annihilation of the kṣatriya class, suggesting a profound skepticism about the value of violent solutions. This has led many interpreters to see the epic as a cautionary tale about the consequences of greed, humiliation, and moral compromise that spiral into large‑scale destruction.

At the same time, the epic uses the battlefield as a stage for deep ethical and philosophical inquiry. Arjuna’s crisis and the teachings of the Bhagavad Gītā are central here: duty, renunciation, non‑violence, and action are all placed under intense scrutiny. Scholars note that the text explores when, if ever, violence can be justified, even as it insists that such acts carry immense karmic weight. The war thus becomes a lens through which conflicting dharmic obligations are examined, especially the tension between the warrior’s code and the ideal of ahiṃsā.

Another major strand of interpretation sees the war as both a political and a cosmic event. On the political level, the conflict arises from systemic adharma—rigged games, insults, and abuses of power—so that the war exposes the corrupting influence of ambition and the fragility of social order. On the cosmic level, the narrative situates the war within cyclical time and the transition of yugas, portraying it as part of a larger process of restoring balance to a world overburdened by unrighteousness. Violence is thus depicted as woven into saṃsāra and cosmic order, yet never treated as morally neutral or free from critique.

Finally, scholars often highlight how the Mahābhārata negotiates between the kṣatriya ethos and emerging ideals of restraint and renunciation. The epic preserves the warrior ideal—valor, loyalty, vengeance, adherence to vows—while simultaneously showing how these very virtues can lead to tragic ends for figures like Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Karṇa, and Abhimanyu. Later portions of the text, filled with mourning, peace‑teaching, and ethical reflection, shift the focus toward compassion and non‑violence as higher aspirations. In this way, the epic’s vast tapestry of war and suffering becomes a means to probe the limits of just war and to gesture toward a spiritual horizon where restraint and ahiṃsā are accorded the greatest esteem.