Next November marks the 40th anniversary since US President Ronald Reagan and Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev made the bold declaration that "a nuclear war cannot be won and must never be fought." This statement was particularly striking given the enormous sums their militaries were spending to prepare for such an unwinnable conflict.
A year later in Reykjavik, the two leaders nearly succeeded in eliminating nuclear weapons altogether. However, this historic opportunity was lost due to Reagan’s unwavering commitment to his untested "Star Wars" missile defense system. While the moment slipped away, it taught us a crucial lesson: real disarmament requires both courage and compromise.
That summit marked a significant turning point in the Cold War, leading to a considerable reduction in nuclear arsenals from 60,000 warheads to about 11,000 today between the US and Russia. The New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (New Start), signed in 2010, further reduced the number of deployed strategic warheads to 1,550 each. In hindsight, however, this was somewhat of a false dawn in nuclear diplomacy. The withdrawal of the US from the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty under George W. Bush in 2002 increased the chances of reigniting an all-out arms race.
Come January 20, 2025, Donald Trump will once more have at his disposal an arsenal capable of ending life as we know it. Trump’s unpredictable nature brings to light an age-old question: should such an immense responsibility be placed on a single individual’s shoulders? While he has described the transfer of authority as "a very sobering moment" and "very, very scary," history records him questioning, "If we have nuclear weapons, why can’t we use them?" The notion of presidential sole authority is critical for maintaining civilian control over nuclear weapons. However, concentrating such power in one individual’s hands remains a point of contention.
Without decisive action, New Start—the final bastion of nuclear arms limitation—will expire in February 2026. Trump has often expressed admiration for strongmen like Russia’s Vladimir Putin, who has made reckless nuclear threats and even hinted at resuming testing amidst the Ukraine conflict. If the two leaders fail to show restraint, it would lead to the first unrestricted arms race in over 50 years between the US and Russia, custodians of 90% of the world’s nuclear arsenal. Such a development would inevitably encourage other nations, notably China, to ramp up their nuclear capabilities.
For decades, the prospect of nuclear war has epitomized Armageddon. The catastrophic legacy of "the bomb" extends from Hiroshima and Nagasaki to nuclear testing sites that remain contaminated. It was sentiment like this that inspired Barack Obama in 2009 to envision a nuclear-free world. His speech galvanized a coalition of activists, diplomats, and nations eager to challenge the widespread belief that nuclear disarmament is unrealistic. This movement achieved significant progress with the 2017 UN treaty banning nuclear weapons, supported by 122 countries. The treaty’s message is clear: the only foolproof way to prevent nuclear weapons from being used is to eliminate them entirely.
Despite the skepticism and even scorn from nuclear-armed states, the 2017 UN vote represents both a moral and legal challenge to the status quo. It underscores that a significant portion of the world rejects the logic of mutually assured destruction. This sentiment was further validated this year when Japan’s Nihon Hidankyo, a group of atomic and hydrogen bomb survivors, received the Nobel Peace Prize for their advocacy to abolish nuclear weapons.
Eighty years after its first test, the nuclear bomb persists—its original purpose obsolete, its threat ever-present. Initially developed to defeat Hitler and hasten an end to Japan’s imperial ambitions, then expanded during the Cold War, nuclear weapons have outlasted every justification for their existence. Although arsenals have significantly decreased, the world’s stockpile remains dangerously large amidst stalled reduction efforts. Against a backdrop of global proliferation, a multipolar United Nations, and America’s quest for global dominance, it’s no wonder the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists’ Doomsday Clock is set at 90 seconds to midnight—the closest it has ever been to catastrophe.
In 2019, Gorbachev sensibly warned that nuclear deterrence keeps the world "in constant jeopardy." As long as these weapons exist, the risk of nuclear conflict lingers. The pressing question now isn’t why the bomb still exists, but whether humanity can endure its presence for another 80 years.
Last December, the United Nations voted 144-3 in favor of setting up an independent scientific panel to study the effects of nuclear war. Disappointingly, the UK was among the dissenters. On a less factual but more compelling note, Annie Jacobson’s book, Nuclear War, paints a harrowing picture of how humanity might perish in just over an hour following a North Korean attack that ignites a nuclear exchange between the US and Russia. Her narrative vividly describes cities obliterated, life extinguished, and survivors suffering unimaginable horrors.
Jacobson’s vision reflects the logical outcome of prevailing nuclear doctrines, with any survivors likely wishing for death due to the magnitude of devastation. Even amid historically low US-Russian relations, the truth stands: a nuclear war cannot be won and must never be waged. As we approach important negotiations on reducing arsenals and setting concrete limitations on missile defenses, it’s imperative for leaders in Moscow and Washington to reiterate their shared responsibility toward preventing global catastrophe. This task won’t be easy—nationalism, geopolitical tensions, and mistrust, especially regarding Ukraine, create significant obstacles. Nevertheless, Washington and Moscow owe it to humanity to actively engage in discussions and take steps to avert the unimaginable.
