The World Is Already Preparing for World War III.
⇒ Warning. Any strategy does not guarantee profit on every trade. Strategy is an algorithm of actions. Any algorithm is a systematic work. Success in trading is to adhere to systematic work.
There are topics people prefer to discuss carefully. Words that are too loud irritate experts, frighten readers, and give critics an excuse to accuse the author of panic. “World War III” is exactly that kind of topic. It is usually pushed into the realm of fantasy, propaganda, or apocalyptic forecasts. The common argument sounds familiar: a major war is impossible because there are nuclear weapons, international organizations, economic ties, trade, common sense, and the fear of mutual destruction.
But the problem is that the world no longer looks like a system governed by common sense. It increasingly resembles a machine that has lost its brakes but still pretends to be following the rules.
World War III may not begin the way it is described in history books. There may be no single morning when all the world’s capitals simultaneously declare war on one another. There may be no neat date from which historians later begin a new chapter. A major war of the twenty-first century may enter reality differently: through a chain of regional conflicts, sanctions, cyberattacks, energy shocks, naval blockades, trade wars, military alliances, arms races, and the gradual normalization of the idea that war is no longer an exception, but a background condition.
And if we look at reality coldly, without hope and without self-deception, we have to admit: the world is not merely at risk of a major war. The world is already restructuring itself for one.
For a long time, globalization was held together by a simple promise: trading is more profitable than fighting. Countries could argue, compete, spy on each other, pressure one another, but the shared interest in money, markets, and supply chains kept the system from total rupture. A factory in one country could depend on raw materials from another, logistics from a third, technologies from a fourth, and consumers from a fifth. In such a system, war was too expensive.
Today, that logic is breaking down.
States are once again thinking not in terms of markets, but in terms of blocs. Not efficiency, but security. Not cheap logistics, but control over routes. Not global benefit, but strategic autonomy. The world is no longer asking: where is it cheaper? It is asking: where is it safer, who is an ally, who is an enemy, who can block supplies, who can cut off payments, who can strike ports, who can restrict chips, who controls energy?
This is the first sign of a pre-war era: the economy begins to obey military logic.
When countries move production, build new defense plants, expand arsenals, revise logistics, create reserves of raw materials, and speak of “supply chain resilience,” it sounds like economic policy. But in essence, it is preparation for a world where trade is no longer seen as a guarantee of peace.
The second sign is even cruder: the world is arming itself.
Military budgets are rising almost everywhere. Europe, which for decades grew accustomed to living under the American security umbrella, is suddenly remembering the word “army.” Germany speaks the language of rearmament. Poland is building a military fist. The Baltic states live in constant expectation of confrontation. Scandinavia is moving deeper into NATO’s military architecture. Asia is arming even faster: China, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, India, Pakistan — each is preparing not for an abstract threat, but for a very specific scenario.
The United States is not leaving the global military game. China no longer hides its claim to be a force that changes the rules. Russia already lives as a wartime state. Iran balances on the edge of regional war. North Korea increasingly looks not like an isolated anomaly, but like part of the broader system of nuclear pressure.
When everyone arms themselves at the same time, each side explains it as defense. No one says: “We are preparing for a world war.” Everyone says: “We are forced to strengthen security.”
But history rarely cares what politicians called it. History looks at the result.
And the result is simple: the world is once again investing enormous money not in trust, but in weapons.
The third sign is the collapse of the nuclear order.
After the Second World War, the world lived under a terrifying but understandable formula: nuclear weapons make major war impossible because there will be no winners. That formula has not disappeared. But it has become less reliable.
The treaties that limited nuclear weapons are turning, one by one, into paper memories of the past. Channels of trust between great powers are narrowing. Military doctrines are becoming harsher. Talk of tactical nuclear weapons, demonstrative exercises, deployments, threats, statements about “red lines” — all of this gradually normalizes what once seemed almost unthinkable.
The greatest danger of the nuclear age is not only the direct desire to press the button. The greatest danger is a mistake. A misread signal. A strike on an object that one side considers permissible and the other sees as strategic. A drone, a missile, a system failure, a provocation, panic in a command center, a politician who needs to show strength.
Major wars often begin not because everyone wants the end of the world. They begin because each side is convinced that one more step can be taken without consequences.
The fourth sign is that several fronts already exist simultaneously.
Ukraine has become the European fault line. This is no longer only a war between two countries. It is a war involving money, weapons, intelligence, sanctions, industry, energy, propaganda, and military planning by dozens of states. There is no direct Russia–NATO clash yet. But the logic of the conflict has long since moved beyond the local frame.
Taiwan is the second fault line. If a hot phase begins there, it will not be merely a crisis between China and an island. It will hit the United States, Japan, South Korea, global trade, semiconductors, sea routes, and the entire Asian security architecture.
The Middle East is the third fault line. There are oil, gas, straits, Israel, Iran, the United States, Gulf monarchies, proxy groups, and the nuclear question. A single strike on energy infrastructure or a maritime route could raise global inflation faster than any central bank decision.
The South China Sea is the fourth fault line. There are ships, reefs, the Philippines, China, the United States, Australia, Japan, and the trade routes through which the blood of the global economy flows.
The Korean Peninsula is the fifth fault line. There, one wrong launch could make the chain of decisions too fast for diplomacy.
And here is the main conclusion: a future world war may not begin from one center. It may begin as several conflicts being stitched together into one system. Not “one war everywhere,” but several wars that suddenly start functioning as one.
The fifth sign is that the economy is increasingly becoming a weapon.
Sanctions used to be an exception. Now they are a permanent tool. Trade wars used to be considered temporary breakdowns. Now they are becoming normal. Currency settlements, banking networks, insurance, logistics, and technology used to be seen as neutral infrastructure. Now all of it is leverage.
Cut off a bank. Freeze assets. Restrict chips. Block a port. Limit exports. Introduce tariffs. Ban investment. Strike tankers. Set a price cap. Rewrite the rules of market access.
This is no longer just economics. This is war without a declaration of war.
And the most unpleasant part is this: the more often countries use the economy as a weapon, the less they trust the economic system itself. And when trust disappears, bloc thinking begins. Each side builds its own perimeter: its own payments, its own supply chains, its own suppliers, its own allies, its own reserves, its own rules.
The global market becomes a collection of fortresses.
And fortresses are not built for friendship.
The sixth sign is that war has become profitable for too many players.
This is unpleasant to say, but without it there can be no serious analysis. Any major militarization creates groups that benefit from continued tension. The defense industry receives orders. Politicians receive an explanation for rising spending. Security structures receive more authority. Energy players benefit from price volatility. Logistics companies receive new routes and risk premiums. Technology corporations receive contracts for cybersecurity, satellites, drones, artificial intelligence, surveillance, and control systems.
The world is entering a state in which fear becomes an economy.
When fear becomes an economy, it is difficult to cancel it quickly. Too much money begins to depend on the threat not disappearing. Too many careers are built on keeping society in mobilization mode. Too many budgets are justified by the claim that “the world has become more dangerous.”
And here a frightening thought appears: a major war may not be the goal, but it becomes the by-product of a system that increasingly feeds on preparing for one.
The seventh sign is that societies themselves are becoming militarized.
War does not begin only at the border. It begins in language. In the way power speaks to people. In the way society gets used to the enemy. In the way complex explanations disappear and simple commands appear: unite, do not doubt, endure, pay, believe, hate, prepare.
Today, this can be seen almost everywhere. Countries increasingly speak to their citizens not in the language of development, but in the language of threat. Economic problems are explained by enemies. Rising expenditures are explained by security. Restrictions are explained by necessity. Control is explained by protection.
A person gradually gets used to the idea that normal life is impossible because the world is dangerous. And if the world is dangerous, then power can demand more. More money. More silence. More loyalty. More readiness for sacrifice.
This is how societies are moved into a pre-war mode before a major war even begins.
The eighth sign is that international institutions no longer frighten the strong.
The UN, treaties, courts, diplomatic platforms, statements, resolutions — all of this still exists. But the question is different: who does it actually stop?
If a major power believes its interests are more important than the rules, it acts. Then it explains. Then it blocks condemnation. Then it waits for the world to get used to it. Different players do this in different forms. The logic is the same: force once again becomes more important than law.
This does not mean international law is completely dead. But it has stopped being the fence no one can climb over. Now it is more like a warning sign. The weak obey it. The strong argue over interpretations.
When rules become optional for the strong, the world returns to the old formula: security depends not on law, but on force.
And that is exactly the formula from which major wars grow.
From an economic point of view, the world is already living in a pre-crisis military model. States are increasing debt, spending more on defense, subsidizing strategic industries, protecting domestic markets, restricting technologies, competing for energy and raw materials. Central banks are trying to manage inflation, but inflation is increasingly created not only by money, but by geopolitics. Oil can rise not because of demand, but because of a strait. Grain — not because of harvests, but because of war. Chips — not because of the market, but because of sanctions. Gas — not because of winter, but because of a political decision.
This is a different economy. In it, prices are formed not only by supply and demand. They are formed by fear.
And an economy of fear is always unstable. It makes states more aggressive, societies poorer, markets more nervous, and politicians dependent on the image of the enemy.
Does this mean World War III is inevitable? As a political analyst, I would not use the word “inevitable.” Not because the situation is calm, but because inevitability is the refusal of analysis. In history, there are almost always forks in the road. There are decisions that can stop escalation. There is fear that can restrain. There is economics that can force negotiation. There are elites that may become afraid of the consequences.
But as an economist and political observer, I would say something else: the world has already passed the point of return to the old order.
The old globalization no longer exists. The old trust between great powers no longer exists. The old confidence in rules no longer exists. The old neutrality of trade no longer exists. The old arms control system is almost gone. The old belief that a major war is impossible is gone too.
What remains is a new world. Angrier. More armed. Poorer in trust. More dependent on force. More willing to explain its problems through the enemy.
And in this new world, World War III no longer looks like fantasy. It looks like the logical conclusion of processes unfolding before our eyes.
The most frightening thing about the current moment is not that there is a war somewhere. There have always been wars. The most frightening thing is that different wars, crises, and conflicts are beginning to form one architecture.
Ukraine is connected to NATO and Russia. Taiwan is connected to the United States and China. The Middle East is connected to oil and the dollar. The South China Sea is connected to global trade. Cyberattacks are connected to energy, banks, and state administration. Sanctions are connected to currencies, debt, and supplies. Artificial intelligence is connected to military technology, intelligence, and control.
The system has become too interconnected for a local war to remain local.
That is why the main question is not: “Will World War III happen?”
The more accurate question is:
At what point will the chain of conflicts already underway become so unified that it is simply called a world war?
A major war rarely begins with an honest declaration. It begins with habituation.
First, society gets used to military budgets. Then to permanent sanctions. Then to conversations about nuclear risks. Then to the mobilization of industry. Then to the image of an enemy. Then to the fact that diplomacy solves nothing. Then to the idea that war somewhere far away is normal. Then to the realization that it is no longer so far away. Then to the feeling that there is no choice left.
And when the choice truly disappears, everyone pretends it happened suddenly.
But there is nothing sudden about it.
The world is already walking down this road. Not running, not marching in formation, not under one anthem. But walking. Through fear, pride, greed, weak institutions, political mistakes, and enormous amounts of money invested in the next war.
And if someone today says that World War III is impossible, they simply believe too strongly in the old world.
But the old world no longer exists.
It has already ended.
It just has not been officially announced yet.
