The symbolic Doomsday Clock, maintained by the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists to measure humanity’s proximity to self-annihilation, stands at 90 seconds to midnight—the closest it has ever been. This dire assessment, driven by the war in Ukraine, explicit nuclear threats, and the climate crisis, frames a global landscape where the risk of catastrophe is not diminishing but accelerating.
Modernisation and a New Arms Race
At the heart of the current peril is a shift in priorities among the world’s nine nuclear-armed states. Focus has moved decisively from disarmament or even risk reduction to modernisation and expansion. The five permanent UN Security Council members—China, France, Russia, the UK, and the US—are all committed under the Non-Proliferation Treaty to work towards disarmament. Yet, as the Bulletin notes, there is a “complete absence of communication on strategic stability among nuclear adversaries,” with nations instead investing in new technologies like hypersonic weapons and the potential for arms in space.
Liberal Democrat peer and lifelong campaigner Sue Miller, a patron of the new all-party parliamentary forum on global nuclear non-proliferation, highlights a particular danger of these advancements. “I thought the danger of hypersonic weapons was in their speed, but apparently it’s in the stealth,” she notes. “They’re much harder to detect.” This stealth capability increases the risk of miscalculation, where a conventional weapon could be mistaken for a nuclear strike.
Beyond the recognised nuclear club, a more subtle and destabilising concept is gaining traction: nuclear latency. This refers to non-nuclear states building the technological and industrial capacity to develop a nuclear weapon rapidly, should they choose to do so. Some European nations are now openly discussing this path. It creates a grey zone of existential threat, undermining the already strained non-proliferation regime and making the line between a conventional and nuclear power dangerously thin.
The Persistent Spectre of Accident and Error
The intentional posture of nuclear states is only part of the threat. A chilling record of near-misses, documented in studies like that from Chatham House spanning the Cold War to the 21st century, reveals how close the world has come to disaster by accident. These incidents range from the bizarre—such as a radar screen showing geese in formation being misinterpreted as an incoming missile—to the terrifyingly mundane, like misperceptions of rocket launches or military exercises.
Many are filed simply as “miscommunication.” This history underscores that the complex systems of nuclear deterrence are perpetually vulnerable to human and technical error. Yet, public and political awareness of these acute dangers has faded. Miller points out that one recommendation from the authors of the Chatham House study was simply to improve understanding of the effects of nuclear weapons—a fundamental point that seems to have been overlooked.
The UK’s Contradictory Stance
Britain’s own position exemplifies the global contradictions. While chairing the P5 Process aimed at non-proliferation, the UK is deeply committed to modernising its own arsenal. Its Trident submarine system, carrying intercontinental ballistic missiles, is being further integrated with the American nuclear system. According to the latest Strategic Defence Review, pursuing these nuclear plans could consume between 30% and 40% of the entire defence budget, a drain that risks leaving conventional forces so depleted that nuclear options shift from a last to an only resort.
Simultaneously, democratic transparency appears to be eroding. The potential hosting of American nuclear weapons at RAF Lakenheath in Suffolk is met with what Miller describes as an “unwillingness to talk about it in government.” While activists from Nukewatch track movements, parliamentary discussion is muted. Furthermore, in a significant move in 2024, the UK—alongside only France and Russia—voted against a UN study on the humanitarian consequences of nuclear war. “How can you move forward in a conversation about mutually assured destruction if you don’t know what it looks like?” Miller asks. “That was shocking to me.”
From Activism to Apathy and the Need for Noise
The current political silence contrasts sharply with the past. The 1980s saw nuclear anxiety permeate mainstream culture and bipartisan political effort, with figures like Reagan and Thatcher engaging in arms control. The fall of the Berlin Wall brought euphoric relief, but also a gradual loss of what Miller calls the “collective memory about Hiroshima and Nagasaki.” The subsequent Iraq War, she suggests, bred a civic pessimism that dampened public protest, while the association of disarmament with the fringe left—particularly after Jeremy Corbyn—has made it a “non-starter” for many parliamentarians.
Today, the agenda has narrowed from disarmament to risk reduction. The new all-party parliamentary forum includes voices from across the spectrum, from Conservative Julian Lewis to Labour’s Fabian Hamilton, united by a spirit of realpolitik. Miller argues the immediate goal for the UK should be to adopt a clear posture of “last resort, not first use,” and to prioritise conventional defence over hosting American bombs—a move she says makes the UK more of a target.
The fundamental risk is proliferation. The current path points to a future where 20 or more states could possess nuclear weapons, making conflict or catastrophic accident a near statistical certainty by century’s end. With governments focused on modernisation and geopolitical posturing, Miller believes the essential counterweight must come from elsewhere. “The only counter to that is citizen movements,” she states. “For most people, I think they would find being blown up very unacceptable. We need to get back to that way of thinking.”
