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A world on the path to war?

Above: soldiers in a Nato military exercise led by the Estonian Defence Forces near the Russian border in 2025. Photographed by
Rafał Milach for Magnum

Deadly mis­sile attacks shut down Riy­adh air­port. Rus­sian strikes on Ukraine kill more than 100 civil­ians. Poland warns of the danger of Rus­sian attacks inside the EU caus­ing fatal­it­ies. China begins a six-day live-fire exer­cise along its coast.

All of these events took place over the past week. Col­lect­ively, they are part of a grow­ing sense of global insec­ur­ity. Regions and coun­tries that have for dec­ades taken peace for gran­ted — west­ern Europe, east Asia, the Gulf states — now have to wrestle with the pro­spect, or the real­ity, of war.

As a journ­al­ist, I can date quite pre­cisely when war changed how I under­stood the world. It was at the three-day Munich Secur­ity Con­fer­ence that ended on Feb­ru­ary 20 2022 — just four days before Rus­sia’s full-scale inva­sion of Ukraine. The US and Brit­ish secur­ity and intel­li­gence estab­lish­ments at the con­fer­ence were abso­lutely unequi­vocal in insist­ing that Vladi­mir Putin’s forces were about to march on Kyiv.

Over din­ner in a Munich hotel, Andrew Shearer, then head of Aus­tralia’s Office of National Intel­li­gence, recoun­ted a con­ver­sa­tion he had just had with Ant­ony Blinken. The two men had been going over Rus­sia’s inva­sion plans when Shearer had turned to the then US sec­ret­ary of state and said: “I can’t believe we’re hav­ing this con­ver­sa­tion in the 21st cen­tury.”

It was a remark that cap­tured the con­flict­ing emo­tions of that moment. On the one hand, there was an abso­lute cer­tainty that Rus­sia was about to launch a full-scale inva­sion. On the other, incredu­lity that this kind of thing could take place in mod­ern Europe. Some of the Ukrain­i­ans and Europeans at Munich simply refused to believe it was about to hap­pen — cling­ing to the hope that it was all a gigantic bluff by Putin or that the intel­li­gence was faulty in some way.

That refusal to believe that Europe’s peace was about to be shattered reminded me of a say­ing that is widely attrib­uted to Leon Trot­sky: “You may not be inter­ested in war, but war is inter­ested in you.”

More than four years have passed since Putin launched his “spe­cial mil­it­ary oper­a­tion”. In that time, the global polit­ical atmo­sphere has been trans­formed. Indeed, it has become com­mon­place for world lead­ers to spec­u­late pub­licly about the out­break of a third world war.

In the fam­ous tele­vised con­front­a­tion with Volodymyr Zelenskyy in Feb­ru­ary 2025, Don­ald Trump accused Ukraine’s pres­id­ent of “gambling with World War III”. Trump believed then — and prob­ably still believes now — that west­ern sup­port for Ukraine risked drag­ging the US into a war with Rus­sia. Zelenskyy has also fre­quently argued that the world is on the brink of a global con­flict. But for the Ukrain­ian leader, the real danger stems from a fail­ure to defeat Rus­sian aggres­sion.

One might expect a war­time leader, des­per­ate to rally sup­port for his coun­try, to dram­at­ise what is at stake for the wider world. But west­ern European lead­ers also take the threat from Rus­sia very ser­i­ously. In the days that fol­lowed Rus­sia’s full-scale inva­sion, the Ger­man gov­ern­ment announced a Zeiten­wende — a his­toric turn­ing point — that would lead to Ger­many pour­ing bil­lions into rearm­a­ment. Nato sec­ret­ary-gen­eral Mark Rutte warned European lead­ers in 2025: “We are Rus­sia’s next tar­get . . . and we must be pre­pared for the scale of war our grand­par­ents or great-grand­par­ents endured.”

The fear that a global con­flict may be brew­ing extends well bey­ond Europe. Xi Jin­ping con­sist­ently warns of the dangers of the US and China fall­ing into a “Thucy­dides Trap”. The Chinese leader is pick­ing up on a the­ory advanced by Gra­ham Allison, a Har­vard aca­demic, that throughout his­tory the dom­in­ant global power has ten­ded to end up at war with the rising power.

Yet Xi’s own policies con­trib­ute to the great-power ten­sions that he warns of. Under his lead­er­ship, China has poured money into its mil­it­ary. It now has a lar­ger navy than the US. Beijing is also stead­ily increas­ing the mil­it­ary and polit­ical pres­sure on Taiwan, which it has vowed to take by force if neces­sary. As US pres­id­ent, Joe Biden said four times that Amer­ica would defend Taiwan in the event of a Chinese inva­sion.

Although world lead­ers have grown used to chuck­ing around the phrase “third world war”, they rarely stop to define the term. But, broadly speak­ing, a world war would have two defin­ing char­ac­ter­ist­ics. The first would be that the world’s most power­ful nations would have to be in dir­ect con­flict — as they were in the first and second world wars. The second is that the con­flict would have to span con­tin­ents.

So far, neither threshold has been crossed. However, the pos­sib­il­ity has always been there. Rus­sian hybrid war­fare against the European back­ers of Ukraine — includ­ing sab­ot­age, arson and assas­sin­a­tions — greatly increases the risk of acci­dental escal­a­tion. As Friedrich Merz, the Ger­man chan­cel­lor, put it last year: “We are not at war, but we are no longer at peace either.”

But could the Rus­sia-Ukraine war turn into a truly global con­flict? In the eyes of some of the par­ti­cipants, it already has. When North Korean troops arrived on the front­line to sup­port the Rus­si­ans in their fight against Ukraine, Zelenskyy called the devel­op­ment “the first step to a world war”. The US-Iran war has over­lapped with the Ukrain­ian con­flict too. The Ira­ni­ans are widely believed to have received assist­ance in tar­get­ing US bases in the Middle East from Rus­sia. Ukraine, mean­while, has offered its expert­ise in counter-drone war­fare to the Gulf states.

West­ern secur­ity offi­cials are increas­ingly wor­ried about close ties between an “axis of adversar­ies” centred around Rus­sia, China, Iran and North Korea. The word “axis” makes some ana­lysts wary. Non­ethe­less, the ties are clearly there and openly pro­claimed. Rus­sia and North Korea signed a mutual defence treaty in 2024. Shortly before Putin’s full-scale inva­sion of Ukraine, the Rus­sian pres­id­ent vis­ited China and the two coun­tries announced a “no lim­its part­ner­ship”. Chinese eco­nomic and tech­nical help has been crit­ical to allow­ing Rus­sia to cope with west­ern sanc­tions and to keep fight­ing in Ukraine.

The four coun­tries of the axis are united by their dis­con­tent with the USled world secur­ity order. Rus­sia resents Nato expan­sion and wants to see the alli­ance pushed back. Iran has attacked US mil­it­ary bases across the Middle East. North Korea threatens South Korea, which relies on the US for pro­tec­tion. China claims Taiwan and most of the South China Sea as its ter­rit­ory — and seems intent on dis­pla­cing the US as the dom­in­ant power in the Pacific. Mark Rutte of Nato has fre­quently dis­cussed the idea that China and Rus­sia might launch co-ordin­ated mil­it­ary offens­ives in Asia and Europe at the same time.

Warn­ings are being issued against the back­drop of a steady increase in war­fare and battle deaths around the world. The Rus­sia-Ukraine war has now been going on longer than the USSR’s war against Nazi Ger­many. The Brit­ish gov­ern­ment says that Rus­sia has sus­tained 1.5mn cas­u­al­ties — killed or wounded — since the inva­sion began. Ukrain­ian cas­u­al­ties are less pub­li­cised but will run into the hun­dreds of thou­sands.

The war in Gaza is estim­ated to have led to 70,000 Palestinian deaths, as well as 2,000 Israelis — in addi­tion to the 1,200 who died as a res­ult of the Hamas attack of Octo­ber 7 2023. The death toll from the cur­rent wars in the Gulf is lower than pre­vi­ous con­flicts such as the war in Iraq. But the fight­ing has threatened the peace and secur­ity of states that were, until recently, regarded as rel­at­ively safe havens in the Middle East, such as Saudi Ara­bia and the United Arab Emir­ates.

The Iran and Ukraine wars dom­in­ate the global head­lines. But the Inter­na­tional Crisis Group recently coun­ted 65 ongo­ing con­flicts around the world — the highest num­ber since the end of the second world war. The con­flict in Sudan, fuelled by out­side powers, is par­tic­u­larly bloody — punc­tu­ated by mas­sacres of civil­ians and the dis­place­ment of more than 14mn people.

So what is driv­ing this surge in con­flict and blood­shed? One import­ant factor is a shift in the global bal­ance of power that is encour­aging revi­sion­ist powers to chal­lenge the global dom­in­ance of the US and its allies. In 1989, the year of the fall of the Ber­lin Wall, the G7 nations — the US, UK, Ger­many, France, Italy, Canada and Japan — accoun­ted for around two-thirds of global eco­nomic out­put and about the same per­cent­age of inter­na­tional mil­it­ary spend­ing. By 2022, the G7 rep­res­en­ted about 43 per cent of global GDP and about half of global mil­it­ary spend­ing.

The west­ern alli­ance’s rel­at­ive decline in power has left an open­ing for revi­sion­ist powers unhappy with the cur­rent world order. So too has the growth of anti-war sen­ti­ment in the US, driven by dis­il­lu­sion­ment with the out­comes of the wars in Afgh­anistan and Iraq.

This change in the inter­na­tional bal­ance of power encour­aged Rus­sia, Iran and China to take more risks. Rus­sia’s all-out inva­sion of Ukraine did not emerge from nowhere; it was pre­ceded by Rus­sian mil­it­ary aggres­sion against Geor­gia in 2008, as well as the annex­a­tion of Crimea in 2014 and mil­it­ary inter­ven­tion in Syria in 2015. China mean­while has con­struc­ted mil­it­ary bases on arti­fi­cial islands it cre­ated in the South China Sea — and pushed the Phil­ip­pines out of Scar­bor­ough Shoal, which is much closer to the Filipino coast than to China.

The emer­gence of a new gen­er­a­tion of strong­man lead­ers has con­trib­uted to this new atmo­sphere of inter­na­tional insec­ur­ity. Lead­ers such as Putin, Xi, Trump and Ben­jamin Net­an­yahu are nation­al­ists and self-styled men of des­tiny. Asked from whom Putin was tak­ing advice in the run-up to the full­s­cale inva­sion of Ukraine, Rus­sian for­eign min­is­ter Sergei Lav­rov reportedly replied: “Ivan the Ter­rible, Peter the Great and Cath­er­ine the Great.”

In dif­fer­ent ways, all these strong­man lead­ers have embraced the idea of a “might makes right” world — and turned their back on the idea of a rules­based inter­na­tional order. Stephen Miller, Trump’s deputy chief of staff, gave a chilling sum­mary of this view when he told an inter­viewer, “you can talk all you want about inter­na­tional niceties and everything else. But we live in a world, in the real world . . . that is gov­erned by strength, that is gov­erned by force, that is gov­erned by power.”

Per­haps the most import­ant inter­na­tional rule — or “nicety”, to use Miller’s term — is the pro­hib­i­tion on the for­cible annex­a­tion of another nation’s ter­rit­ory through inva­sion. This was the prin­ciple that the west­ern alli­ance ral­lied around after Sad­dam Hus­sein’s inva­sion of Kuwait in 1990 — and again after Putin’s attack on Ukraine in 2022.

But the second Trump admin­is­tra­tion has itself embraced the idea of US ter­rit­orial expan­sion — even at the expense of its allies. Early in his second term, Trump laid claim to Green­land, an autonom­ous ter­rit­ory of Den­mark. The Danes took the threat ser­i­ously enough to mine run­ways on the island as pro­tec­tion against a pos­sible US inva­sion.

The embrace of the idea of ter­rit­orial annex­a­tion by the major powers — along with the glee­ful embrace of a “might makes right” philo­sophy — clearly increases inter­na­tional con­flict risks.

There is a the­ory of peace, non­ethe­less, behind some of Trump’s pro­clam­a­tions — as well as Putin’s and Xi’s ter­rit­orial aspir­a­tions. This is the idea that great powers should be allowed to dom­in­ate a “sphere of influ­ence” in their imme­di­ate neigh­bour­hoods. Smal­ler neigh­bours — such as Ukraine, Taiwan, Canada or Cuba — must accept the dom­in­a­tion of the regional hege­mon. What is more, if all great powers respect each other’s spheres of influ­ence, then global peace can be main­tained.

Accord­ing to the the­ory, it is this kind of bru­tal real­politik — rather than some ima­gin­ary rules-based order — that is the best guar­an­tee of world peace. This idea may sound super­fi­cially plaus­ible but it does not really with­stand scru­tiny. It ignores the views and interests of neigh­bour­ing coun­tries. Must Canada meekly sub­mit to Trump’s will? Is it inev­it­able and right that demo­cratic Taiwan must simply sub­mit to China’s oneparty state? As Rus­sia has dis­covered in Ukraine, smal­ler coun­tries have rights and agency and can put up a fight.

Even when only the interests of the so-called “great powers” are con­sidered, a world divided into spheres of influ­ence can­not guar­an­tee peace. The US is unlikely to accept the absorp­tion of Taiwan into China, as long as the Taiwanese pro­duce 90 per cent of the world’s most advanced semi­con­duct­ors.

If the Trump-Putin vis­ion of a world order based on spheres of influ­ence does not work, other meth­ods to keep the peace are needed. Since the late 1940s and the found­a­tion of Nato, the US and its allies have relied on mil­it­ary deterrence. The idea is that any coun­try temp­ted to expand its ter­rit­ory through mil­it­ary aggres­sion must know it will be met with a united and force­ful response.

By and large, deterrence — under­pinned by fear of nuc­lear war — worked. The US and USSR avoided dir­ect con­flict throughout the cold war — des­pite some near-misses, not­ably the 1962 Cuban mis­sile crisis. But Trump is clearly attrac­ted to the idea that the US should retreat from its secur­ity com­mit­ments to its allies.

If it came to it, would Trump’s Amer­ica fight to defend the Baltic states? Or Poland? Or Japan or Bri­tain? Nobody can be sure of the answer to those ques­tions any more.

His­tory sug­gests the greatest risk of a third world war may lie in that very uncer­tainty. The final crises that led to the first and second world wars both involved alli­ance sys­tems and secur­ity com­mit­ments that had lost cred­ib­il­ity. In 1914, Bri­tain had guar­an­teed the neut­ral­ity of Bel­gium but the Ger­man gov­ern­ment believed the UK would not go to war over a “scrap of paper”signed in 1839. That was a mis­cal­cu­la­tion. In 1939, Bri­tain and France exten­ded a secur­ity guar­an­tee to Poland in an attempt to deter the Nazis. But Hitler’s pre­vi­ous encoun­ters with Brit­ish and French lead­ers con­vinced him that they would back down again. He was wrong.

Today, Xi has to con­sider whether Amer­ica’s Taiwan Rela­tions Act — which com­mits the US to oppos­ing the use of force against the island — still means something. Putin must make a sim­ilar cal­cu­la­tion about Nato’s Art­icle Five — which com­mits all 32 alli­ance mem­bers to defend each other. Is it still an iron­clad com­mit­ment — or just another “scrap of paper?”

These are the ques­tions on which the peace of the world may depend.

Below: Vladi­mir Putin with Kim Jong Un after a 2025 meet­ing in Beijing in which the Rus­sian leader thanked Kim for send­ing North Korean troops to fight along­side Rus­sian forces against Ukraine

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