Since time immemorial, humanity has waged war, either to seize lands and extend its domains, or to take control of natural resources. The first major wars fought to extract precious minerals on a large scale were, of course, the European conquests of the Americas. Although atrocities were committed, the environmental impacts unfolded over time rather than through military actions themselves. But with the Industrial Revolution, the mechanization and sophistication of weapons and military equipment, environmental impacts began to intensify.
But it was ultimately during the First World War that the industrialization of warfare and the scale of destruction permanently transformed the art of war — and, by extension, the world itself. The Great War, fought mainly between France and Germany and their allies, revealed the destructive power enabled by colossal industrial, technological, and logistical systems. These war machines consumed not only human lives but also enormous quantities of raw materials and energy. Nearly 3,500,000 men were killed; 2.5 million hectares of farmland and forests were destroyed; more than 750,000 draft animals died. Not to mention the land that remains unusable to this day, contaminated by chemicals or compacted under the weight of tanks.
However, total immersion in, and shaping by, industrial warfare came with the Second World War. This conflict transformed the world as we know it today — economically and in relation to energy — and triggered the “Great Acceleration” of the postwar period. The first major rupture was the choice of thanatos, with the use of the atomic bomb, to force Japan’s surrender without a ground intervention and to demonstrate US nuclear supremacy to the world.
Another consequence of the Second World War was the establishment of an economic model based on hydrocarbon consumption and mass consumerism. During the conflict, the United States and Soviet models clashed: one based on the power of machines and massive use of oil and manpower, the other on the chemical industry developed under the Third Reich. Germany’s defeat was largely due to energy shortages: its chemical superiority was not enough, though it would benefit the country significantly after the war. From this dark episode emerged a global shift toward a welfare-state model based on progress, mass consumption, and military technological spillovers.
This resulted in Germany developing a strong manufacturing, automotive, and chemical economy. The agro-industrial sector reused chemical components employed during the war and the Holocaust. Major German chemical corporations, such as Aventis, BASF, and Bayer, owe much of their postwar growth to expertise developed during the two world wars — expertise later used to eradicate flora and fauna deemed harmful to agricultural yields.
Across the Atlantic, the United States followed a similar path: the release of military patents for DDT opened vast agro-industrial and hygienic markets, with consequences famously described in “Silent Spring.” Massive tank and aircraft factories had to adapt as well. They now produced tractors for the Green Revolution and aircraft for civil aviation.
Without the war, the motorization and electrification of European and North American societies — and the development of aeronautics, agrochemistry, industrial fishing (with nylon nets and sonar), and aluminum usage — would likely not have emerged, or at least not as rapidly.
The examples of military-to-civilian conversion are countless. The “petrolization” of societies materialized due to the war, and although its consequences initially seemed positive, today it is evident that this was not the case. A striking example is the US highway system, conceived with military logic to enable troop mobility in case of invasion or for evacuation in the event of a nuclear attack — an infrastructure that encouraged urban sprawl and car dependency.
As historians Thomas Leroux and François Jarrige note: “Behind every military innovation lies a civilian use; combat gases become pesticides; explosives become fertilizers; tanks become tractors … and chemical weapons research feeds future pharmaceutical laboratories.”
A decisive turning point occurred during the Vietnam War, when, for the first time, the term “ecocide” was used to denounce war crimes committed by the US Army against Vietnamese jungles and crops. Chemical agents, such as Agent Orange, were used to intentionally destroy the natural environment as a weapon of war. Protest movements brought pacifism and environmentalism together; it is no coincidence that Greenpeace — one of the world’s largest environmental NGOs — emerged during this period.
During the war, the US military sprayed nearly 80 million liters of toxic substances to destroy South Vietnam’s vegetation. Nature itself became the primary target. The consequences make this conflict one of the most ecocidal in history, with lingering effects still impacting more than 3 million people today.
Quoting Bruno Latour: “Civil peace between states was achieved at the price of an invisible and total war against territories.” This statement captures how the postwar model lies at the root of our ecological troubles. Peaceful countries became more productive. They experienced urban and suburban expansion, industrialization, and environmental degradation.
But let us return to the direct environmental damage caused by warfare. Today, more than 60 conflicts are ongoing worldwide, where civilians — not soldiers — are increasingly the primary victims. Since the Iraq War, most conflicts are no longer ideological but geostrategic, driven by the desire to seize natural-resource deposits.
Examples are numerous, but for the sake of synthesis, I will mention only the three most significant.
The first that comes to mind is what many consider the first globalized conflict in Africa: the war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. For about 30 years, eastern Congo has been the scene of deadly battles for control of the Kivu region, whose subsoil is filled with the most precious minerals for high tech and the energy transition: rare earths and the “3Ts” (tantalum, tungsten, and tin). These minerals are essential to the digital and renewable energy industries.
To understand the intensity of the conflict: more than 80% of the world’s coltan reserves are located there. This is a true war economy —hence the term “blood minerals” — marked by environmentally devastating mining operations that violate international standards, and where war crimes are common: massacres, population displacement, rape, enslavement of workers in the mines, and irreversible environmental destruction. This is why the DRC advocates at the United Nations for the creation of an international legal framework recognizing ecocide as a crime.
The excessive and disproportionate retaliation carried out by the state of Israel following the barbaric terrorist attacks of Oct. 7, 2023, has overwhelmingly targeted civilians. There is also a clear strategy aimed at making the Gaza Strip uninhabitable: nearly 80% of buildings and infrastructures have been destroyed, and there are more than 169kg of rubble per square meter. Combined with mass displacement, this suggests a genuine attempt to empty the enclave for shameless speculative purposes.
Though such a goal is — at least in theory — unrealistic for many reasons, environmental factors are decisive. This territory of barely 365km² has become a wasteland: a completely contaminated ruin. Its entire environment has been affected by chemical pollution from artillery and bombs. For now, we cannot know how many toxic components are present in the air, soil, or water. Arable land is unusable; nearly all trees and palms have disappeared, including many centuries-old olive trees. In this war, we are witnessing not only an ecocide but a “futuricide.”
I will conclude with the largest conflict Europe has seen since the Second World War — far more significant than the wars of former Yugoslavia: Russia’s invasion of northern and eastern Ukraine. On Feb. 24, 2022, Russian forces illegally entered Ukrainian territory, invoking violations of the rights and integrity of Russian-speaking populations. The world was taken by surprise, and Western countries quickly moved from disbelief to full support for Ukraine. In many ways, this is the first major war between global powers of the 21st century.
The full scale of this conflict is still not fully grasped: the US and European armies, on one side, indirectly confront Russia and its Chinese, Iranian, and North Korean allies on the other. We are witnessing a battle of Titans, albeit one fought by proxy through Ukrainian troops. The figures speak for themselves: in 2024, Ukraine’s military expenditures were estimated at US$57 billion, compared to Russia’s US$131 billion.
Like every modern war, this conflict is energy-intensive and carbon-emitting. According to Ukraine’s Ministry of the Environment, the emissions caused by military activity have been enormous: greenhouse-gas emissions reached 230 million tons of CO₂ equivalent in three years — the equivalent of the combined annual emissions of Austria, Hungary, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia.
Over the months, we have seen the rise of new forms of warfare, notably lethal autonomous weapons systems, better known as drones. This new style of combat is based on autonomous machines that spread death and render conventional confrontations obsolete. They shape front lines the way trenches once did. Nothing can move without being spotted and attacked by drones increasingly equipped with AI. Destruction is now largely inflicted by these machines. They are at the cutting edge of innovation and dominate the battlefield.
A striking development: to prevent jamming, many drones are now equipped with fiber-optic spools stretching tens of kilometers. “Wire-guided” drones — used successfully by the Russian army since autumn — are immune to electronic interference. They cross front lines with ease, targeting supply lines and infrastructure. Chinese support has been crucial: since summer, China has supplied more than 35,000km of fiber-optic cable to Russia. The front now resembles a giant spiderweb.
These military technologies are here to stay, and as before, they will eventually find civilian applications.
Meanwhile, the Russian army continues to target environmental and strategic infrastructure, leading to daily ecological disasters. From the start of the war, it has multiplied attacks on civilian, industrial, and energy infrastructures, and, when possible, has seized strategic sites without concern for pollution risks. Quite the opposite: we have witnessed the destruction of wastewater-treatment plants, preventing the purification of sewage, and repeated attacks on energy facilities, regardless of the risk of hydrocarbon or chemical leaks.
But the most devastating event was the destruction of the Kakhovka Dam in June 2023, causing massive flooding over more than 620km². The environmental damage was enormous: more than 11,388 tons of fish died, 11,294ha of forest were lost, and 5,000ha of farmland destroyed — arguably the greatest ecocide of the 21st century.
As we can see, war has a colossal impact on the environment. Faced with climate disruption and biodiversity loss, war only worsens these crises. And in times of peace, the military industry seeks to repurpose its supposed technological advancements without considering their future environmental consequences. These contemporary wars are shaping our future — for better, occasionally, but mostly for worse. The resumption of nuclear testing by the United States is hardly reassuring. Instead of wasting our resources and expertise on war, it would be far wiser to mobilize them for the ecological battles ahead. The house is burning, and we are adding fuel to the fire.