Only Nukes Remain

In the wars of today, countries no longer rely on boots marching across borders. Instead, they send signals through the skies—drones, missiles, radars, and airstrikes. A silent shift has taken place. Battles are now fought high above the ground, where technology replaces soldiers and steel wings replace guns. The recent escalations between rival countries like Iran and Israel, show that almost every military tool has been used—except one. And that exception is what haunts us all. What remains are the nukes.

From hypersonic and ballistic missiles to satellite-guided drones, from defense shields like Iron Dome to cyber jamming, nations have unleashed nearly all their non-nuclear weaponry. The world has witnessed air raids, drone swarms, radar games, and missile interceptions in real-time. No longer do wars need weeks or months to unfold—within hours, a military might can be put on full display. But here’s the truth these wars are silently revealing: these mighty weapons are no longer infallible.

Iron Dome systems are overwhelmed. Drones are shot down. Satellites are hacked. Radars are spoofed. Technology is failing in the most unexpected ways. We are watching, not a showcase of power, but a slow peeling off of illusions. The real face of modern warfare is glitchy, leaky, and incomplete.

Despite all this firepower, countries still stop short of using one weapon: nuclear bombs. Their silence is louder than any missile strike. In fact, the restraint shown around nukes is the only thing keeping global war from becoming total destruction. This hesitation shows that all sides, even the most aggressive ones, understand the risk. Why? Because nuclear war is not a fight—it’s the end of everything.

All nations know this. That’s why in every modern war, we see weapons escalate up to the edge—but not beyond it. Drones bomb fuel stations. Missiles target factories. Fighter jets attack command posts. But nukes remain untouched. Ticking, waiting, reminding.

In the Cold War, nuclear weapons were treated like scarecrows—meant to prevent war. Now, in the age of hyper-speed sky warfare, they feel more like leftover ghosts from the past. Yet, they remain the most feared weapon, not because they’re new, but because they’re final.

Ironically, every time a drone is launched or a missile flies, we are reminded of what lies just beyond the limit. The nukes are still in their silos—not out of kindness, but out of fear.

The world has seen drone wars in Ukraine, Gaza, Armenia, and now in the Gulf region. In all cases, the same pattern repeats: both sides believe in their advanced technology—until it gets jammed, intercepted, or hacked.

Take for example Israel’s Iron Dome—once called nearly perfect, but now clearly overstretched. Or Iranian drone swarms—disrupted mid-air. These are signs of something deeper: modern weapons have limits, but the fear they cause continues to grow. As one military analyst put it: “We’ve advanced in weapons, but not in wisdom.”

With each new sky war, the world comes closer to the edge. Leaders want to scare their enemies, display power, show off to their own people. But what do these conflicts achieve? Civilians die. Markets panic. Airlines get grounded. Diplomats scramble. Meanwhile, the threat of nuclear retaliation quietly hangs above like a dark cloud.

If military might is so easily broken, then what’s the use of pouring billions into it? Perhaps the real question is this: If everything else breaks down, what will stop a desperate leader from pushing the nuclear button?

History tells us what happens when fear guides war. The Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings were not just acts of war—they were warnings from the past. Those cities still whisper their grief to us.

From a faith perspective, war is never to be glorified. Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, “Do not wish for war. Ask Allah for peace. But if war becomes necessary, then fight with strength.” But strength here also includes wisdom, fairness, and restraint.

The Qur’an tells us: “If you kill one innocent soul, it is as if you have killed all of humanity” (Surah Al-Ma’idah 5:32). What then can we say of weapons that can destroy entire cities in seconds?

Security scholars like Noam Chomsky and William Perry (former U.S. Secretary of Defense) have warned that the biggest risk today is not planned nuclear war—but accidental escalation. When systems fail, when alerts are misunderstood, or when retaliation is too quick, things can spiral out of control.

The sky is filled with noise—signals, radar pings, coded messages. It takes just one mistake to trigger a disaster. That’s why global stability now depends less on strength and more on restraint.

Sky-based warfare may appear clean and quick, but the consequences are deep. A missile strike today can lead to an arms race tomorrow. A drone war now can trigger a cyber war next month. And eventually, when all other cards are played, the only card left on the table will be the nuclear one.

It’s time to stop glorifying war technologies and start investing in peace diplomacy. Just as we hold climate summits and economic forums, we must create regular “Nuclear Restraint Dialogues” where even enemies talk—not about trust, but about survival. America should lead in these efforts.

People in conflict zones like Kashmir understand the fragility of peace better than anyone else. A war fought far away can still shake lives here. Every military confrontation between nuclear-armed states feels personal. Evacuations begin. Parents worry. Markets react. Fear spreads.

That’s why our voice must be louder when we say: Enough. War must have limits. Weapons must have warnings. Peace must be protected. Let the world not wait until all that’s left are the nukes.

We are standing at a unique point in history. Technology has made war faster, flashier, and farther-reaching. But it hasn’t made us safer. As we reach the peak of air-based confrontation, all eyes turn to the one weapon that still hasn’t been used.

That weapon, if unleashed, ends not just wars—but futures. What remains are the nukes. What remains is the choice. Between ruin and reason. Between destruction and dialogue. Between silence after the blast—or peace before it. Let’s choose before it’s too late.

Dr. Ashraf Zainabi is a teacher and researcher based in Gowhar Pora Chadoora J&K