Get the Bomb or Get Conquered

 

In a collapsing world order, trust is dead. When nuclear powers bully freely, even democracies may chase the bomb. Survival now whispers one terrifying rule: get nukes, or gamble your existence.

I used to think nuclear weapons were relics of black-and-white footage, mushroom clouds frozen in time like a bad memory the world promised never to repeat. That was the fairy tale. The real story feels colder. The old nuclear order is cracking, and I can hear the ice breaking beneath our boots.

For almost 80 years, the system held together on a simple, terrifying bargain. The United States would extend a nuclear umbrella over its allies. In return, they would not build bombs of their own. It was trust mixed with fear, stitched together by treaties like the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty of 1968, which now has 191 member states. Nuclear states were supposed to disarm. Non-nuclear states were supposed to stay clean. You scratch my back, I won’t vaporize yours.

But that deal is fraying. As New START, the last major arms-control treaty between America and Russia, edges toward expiration in 2026, the guardrails are coming off. The Stockholm International Peace Research Institute reported in 2024 that the world holds about 12,121 nuclear warheads. Around 9,585 are in military stockpiles, and roughly 3,904 are deployed. Russia and America still dominate the count, but China is sprinting. The Pentagon estimated in 2023 that China had more than 500 operational warheads and could reach 1,000 by 2030. That is not a slow drift. That is a surge.

So when Nordic strategists whisper about a “Nordic nuke,” I do not laugh. I listen. Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway and Sweden have long wrapped themselves in the comfort of alliances and diplomacy. The Danish word hygge suggests warmth, socks by the fire, cocoa steaming in winter air. Now some in that region talk as if only a warhead can deliver inner peace. That tells me something has shifted.

Sweden’s prime minister, Ulf Kristersson, said recently that as long as dangerous countries possess nuclear weapons, sound democracies must also have access to them. That is not the language of pacifists. That is the voice of a world recalculating risk.

I look east and see Vladimir Putin brandishing nuclear threats over Ukraine. Since the 2022 invasion, Russian officials have repeatedly warned of nuclear escalation. When a nuclear-armed state invades a neighbor and waves its arsenal like a loaded pistol, others take notes. They ask a hard question: if Ukraine had kept the weapons it inherited after the Soviet Union collapsed, would Russia have dared?

In 1994, Ukraine agreed under the Budapest Memorandum to give up the world’s third-largest nuclear arsenal in exchange for security assurances from Russia, America and Britain. Those assurances did not stop tanks from rolling in 2014 or 2022. That fact echoes in every capital watching from the sidelines. Paper promises burn fast under artillery fire.

Now I hear Poland talking about hosting nuclear weapons. Japan and South Korea, long under America’s nuclear umbrella, are debating openly whether they should consider their own bombs. Polls in South Korea in recent years have shown that more than 60% of respondents support developing indigenous nuclear weapons. That is not fringe talk. That is mainstream anxiety.

For decades, American guarantees were enough. Even when Charles de Gaulle asked John F. Kennedy in 1961 whether he would trade New York for Paris, the umbrella held. Countries like Sweden and Taiwan stepped back from the brink. They believed Washington would show up if the worst happened. But faith in that guarantee is wobbling. When President Donald Trump questioned whether America would automatically defend NATO allies who do not meet defense spending targets, ears perked up from Warsaw to Seoul. Even if another administration tries to restore confidence, the doubt lingers. Once you question the bodyguard, you start shopping for your own gun.

I do not romanticize this shift. More nuclear states mean more fingers near red buttons. The risk of miscalculation multiplies. During the Cold War, we came close to catastrophe more than once. In 1983, Soviet officer Stanislav Petrov judged that a warning of incoming American missiles was a false alarm and chose not to retaliate. His decision may have prevented nuclear war. Add more nuclear powers, more tense borders, more hair-trigger systems, and the odds of a mistake rise. The more loaded dice on the table, the more likely someone rolls snake eyes.

But here is the brutal logic I cannot ignore. In a might-makes-right world, power deters power. North Korea tested its first nuclear device in 2006. Since then, it has conducted 6 nuclear tests and built an arsenal estimated by some analysts at 30 to 50 warheads. The regime remains isolated, sanctioned, and condemned. Yet no one is invading Pyongyang. The lesson many draw is simple: get the bomb, buy regime survival.

Iran sits at the edge, enriching uranium to levels that alarm inspectors. Israel, widely believed to possess around 90 nuclear warheads, has never confirmed it, but its neighbors assume it. India and Pakistan tested nuclear weapons in 1998. Since then, they have fought skirmishes and crises, including the 2019 standoff after the Pulwama attack, but full-scale war has been restrained by mutual fear of escalation. Deterrence is ugly. It is also, so far, effective.

So I watch as democracies once comfortable under American protection rethink their calculus. If America, China and Russia slide into a fresh arms race, why should Berlin, Stockholm or Seoul sit idle? If Washington’s shield looks thinner, self-reliance starts to look like insurance. Insurance is expensive. A nuclear program costs billions, maybe tens of billions, and takes years. It diverts funds from tanks, jets, cyber defenses. It provokes rivals who might strike before the program matures. But from the perspective of a small state staring at a larger, nuclear-armed neighbor, the math may feel unavoidable.

I can hear the moralists protest. Proliferation makes the world more dangerous. They are right. The more nuclear states, the greater the chance of accident, theft, or unauthorized launch. A regional conflict could turn radioactive. A cyberattack could spoof early-warning systems. We would be gambling with civilization. Yet morality bends under fear. If Russia threatens nuclear use. If China expands its arsenal at record speed. If treaties collapse and superpowers modernize their warheads instead of dismantling them, the message to everyone else is clear: the age of disarmament is over. We are back to raw power.

Some European leaders talk about extending Britain’s and France’s nuclear deterrents across the continent. That might slow the rush. Britain holds around 225 warheads. France has about 290. Coordinated umbrellas, shared doctrine, hotlines to reduce miscalculation, these are smarter paths than a dozen new nuclear programs. But even those steps admit the core truth: conventional forces alone may not feel sufficient.

I do not celebrate this. I feel the chill of it. The temptation is nostalgia, to pretend we can rewind to a safer era. But the old order depended on trust in America’s promise and restraint among major powers. Both are eroding.

When I strip away the rhetoric and look at the street-level logic, it is simple. If a bully carries a knife, you think twice before going empty-handed. If your survival hangs on someone else’s courage, you sleep lightly. In a world where might makes right, the bomb looks less like madness and more like armor.

That is the dark conclusion many capitals are inching toward. I do not have to like it. I only have to see it. And what I see is a world where the quiet hum of nuclear reactors may soon sound like the only lullaby leaders trust.

  

On a different but equally important note, readers who enjoy thoughtful analysis may also find the titles in my  “Brief Book Series” worth exploring. Read it here on Google Play: Brief Book Series.