It feels strange, almost absurd, to talk about being “at war” on a bright, beautiful day. No bombs are falling, no sirens wail, and for most of us, life continues with its familiar rhythm. We can easily switch off the news, turn away from the grim headlines, and pretend the world isn’t quite as chaotic as it seems. But beneath this calm surface, a different kind of battle is being waged, one that many of us are only just beginning to understand. It’s not the kind of war with tanks and soldiers clashing on distant battlefields, but a more insidious, multifaceted assault that targets the very fabric of our society. This idea, though sounding like something from a spy novel, is gaining traction in defense circles, and hearing it articulated by someone like Labour MP and former RAF wing commander Calvin Bailey last week was a stark wakeup call. He argued that our traditional understanding of war is outdated, and we need to redefine what conflict looks like in the 21st century.
Bailey breaks down this new form of warfare into five fronts: attacking a nation’s political leadership, critical infrastructure, essential supplies like food and fuel, its civilian population, and its armed forces. What’s unsettling is that, by this definition, Britain is already under attack on the first four fronts, all without a single bullet being fired. Imagine the relentless stream of Russian-backed disinformation flooding our social media, aiming to sow discord and undermine trust in our political systems. Consider the chilling reports of Russian submarines lurking near the undersea cables that carry most of our internet traffic, or the four significant cyber-attacks Britain faces every week. Think about the blockades in critical shipping lanes like the Strait of Hormuz, threatening our food and fuel supplies. Even more unsettling are the warnings from figures like Keir Starmer about conflicts abroad spilling onto our streets, with “proxies” being used to create unrest. Counter-terrorism police are investigating a rise in arson attacks on synagogues and Jewish-owned businesses, and threats against Iranians living in Britain, suspecting they might be sponsored by foreign powers like Tehran. This isn’t just about geopolitical maneuvering; it’s about real people feeling unsafe in their homes, and it inadvertently feeds a destructive narrative that immigrant communities cannot peacefully coexist. It’s a shadow war, cleverly exploiting a country’s internal divisions and vulnerabilities, all while avoiding direct conflict and casualties, making it incredibly difficult to identify and counter.
This new reality is a far cry from the wars many of us picture. Just ten months ago, a strategic defense review, led by former Labour defense secretary George Robertson, urged Britain to prepare for a different kind of conflict. Not the expeditionary wars in far-off lands against non-state actors, which we often fought alongside the US, but a sustained conflict on our own soil against a well-armed, technologically advanced adversary. The jargon can be dense, but the message is clear: if you still imagine the Iraq or Afghanistan conflicts when you think of Britain at war, you’re looking backward. The next major conflict will likely be much closer to home, not a matter of choice but of necessity. It will be less about playing a supporting role to a superpower and more about facing the direct consequences when powerful nations go “rogue,” as Robertson put it. Unfortunately, the crucial conversation about what this truly means for ordinary people has been overshadowed by debates about defense spending. While Bailey suggests a mix of new borrowing instruments and procurement reforms, Robertson’s original call for a national discussion, an honest dialogue with the public, seems to have been largely forgotten.
There’s a growing sense of urgency, though perhaps too little and too late for some. Starmer, after significant public pressure, is starting to engage, but many believe the pace is too slow. As of now, Robertson and his co-author Fiona Hill are scheduled to appear before a parliamentary committee to discuss the national security strategy, with Hill expected to deliver an even more blunt assessment in an upcoming lecture. Their insights are vital because despite witnessing the devastating impact of cheap, mass-produced drones in Ukraine and across the Gulf, Britain remains woefully unprepared for a drone attack on a strategically important building. Our already strained National Health Service might not be able to handle mass casualties, and we lack crucial stockpiles of food or analogue backups for our digital systems – necessities that could help us weather a successful cyber-attack or a major act of sabotage. This isn’t just about buying more tanks and fighter jets; it’s about fortifying our society from within. It demands two things that many Labour voters would expect from a Labour government anyway: strengthening our public services to cope with a crisis, and fostering a more trusting and tolerant society that resists extremism, where neighbors look out for each other rather than fearing one another.
The challenge for political leaders, especially someone like Starmer, is finding the right words to explain this complex and uncomfortable truth without causing widespread panic. If the upcoming local election results are as bad as anticipated, his time to articulate this vision might be running out. But whoever aims to succeed him will face the same daunting task: demonstrating the capability to lead a country under attack, and more importantly, explaining the confusing nature of this new warfare to a public already weary of sacrifices. This new kind of war, so hard to discern even when it’s supposedly at our doorstep, may not yet feel like an immediate threat. But our collective future, and indeed individual lives, may well depend on our ability to see clearly into these shadows and understand the true nature of the challenges we face. It’s about more than just defense; it’s about the resilience of our society, the strength of our communities, and our willingness to face uncomfortable truths about the world we live in.