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For a long time, the world comforted itself with a convenient illusion. After the end of the Second World War, it seemed that humanity, having lived through the two monstrous catastrophes of the twentieth century, had developed an immunity to full-scale global self-destruction. Yes, there were wars. There were coups, interventions, civil conflicts, proxy clashes, local campaigns, terrorist surges, ethnic cleansings, and missile crises.

But in mass political consciousness one basic conviction endured: a new world war was impossible. The stakes were too high. Modern weapons were too destructive. Economic interdependence was too deep. The fear of the nuclear abyss was too great.

It is precisely that faith that is now collapsing before our eyes.

At first glance, it may seem that we are dealing with only two major centers of instability - the war in Ukraine and the war around Iran, which began on February 28, 2026 and led to an American-Israeli use-of-force strike, followed by a fragile ceasefire. But that view is no longer sufficient. It is outdated. It belongs to an era when international crises could still be examined separately, as self-contained stories. The current reality is different. These wars no longer exist in isolation. They affect one another, feed one another, alter one another’s strategic calculations, redistribute resources, push allies toward new decisions, and form a single system of global confrontation. That is the key to understanding what is happening. And that is why the idea is increasingly taking hold that the world has entered a new era of world war. Not in the sense of a direct replay of 1914 or 1939, but in the sense of the return of the very logic of world war - the logic of interconnected theaters of war in which great powers either fight indirectly or direct, arm, finance, and coordinate forces operating in different regions of the planet. This idea is explicitly embedded in the source text, which emphasizes that over the past two years the world has seen more wars - both internal and interstate - than at any time since the end of the Second World War, and that the conflicts in Ukraine and around Iran have already begun to function as parts of a single global event.

This is a very serious thesis. It requires not an emotional reaction, but cold analysis. Because if it is even half true, then the international system is experiencing not just another crisis, but a profound historical transformation. It means that an entire stage of the post-bipolar era has ended - the era when even major wars still remained either geographically localized or politically limited. And it means that what stands before us is not merely another turn in the news cycle, but a change in the very structure of world order.

World War Without a Single Front

One of the central intellectual delusions of our time is that people still imagine world war according to the model of the twentieth century. The familiar picture appears at once: vast fronts, official declarations of war, multi-million-man armies of the great powers, total economic mobilization, factories running at full strain, front lines crossing continents, massive bombing of capitals, fleets in the oceans, and millions dead and wounded within a matter of months. And if none of that is present, then there is no world war.

But history is under no obligation to repeat itself literally. It changes its form while preserving its logic.

A world war in the twenty-first century does not have to begin as it did in 1914, and it does not have to look like 1939. It may have no formal declaration at all. It may unfold without direct battlefield clashes between superpowers. It may erupt in several places at once, be technologically dispersed, economically interconnected, politically blurred, and still remain global in essence - because its consequences, mechanisms, and interconnections extend far beyond any single region. Such a conflict may include direct strikes in one theater, a proxy war in another, sanctions warfare in a third, an energy shock in a fourth, cyber operations in a fifth, and a crisis of alliance commitments in a sixth.

If one looks at what is happening through that lens, the conclusion becomes obvious: the question is no longer whether the whole world is fighting at the same time in one physical space. The question is whether there now exists a single global system of conflicts in which decisions made in one region alter the trajectory of war in another. Today, the answer increasingly sounds like yes.

The war in Ukraine and the war against Iran are precisely such a case. The United States continues to provide Ukraine with weapons, intelligence, and planning support in its struggle against Russia. Russia, as the source material notes, assisted Iran, including by passing along targeting data, mapping American positions, and supplying drones. Formally, Washington and Moscow are not exchanging direct strikes. But they are already deeply involved in conflicts where each side is working against the other’s strategic interests. They are not shooting at one another directly, but they are to a great extent determining how, where, and with what effectiveness their partners and clients do the shooting.

That is the essence of the new world war: not necessarily a head-on collision of armies, but the interaction of systems of coercion in which every major player uses the periphery as an extension of its global struggle.

Why the Postwar World Never Truly Became Peaceful

To understand why the present moment looks so alarming, it is important to get rid of another convenient legend - the idea that after 1945 the world lived through a long period of relative peace that has only now unexpectedly ended. In reality, postwar history was soaked in blood. Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, the Middle East, Africa, the Balkans, Iraq, Syria, Libya, Yemen, the Caucasus - the long list shows that violence never disappeared. It was simply fragmented, often geographically distant from the centers of global comfort and, most importantly, politically packaged in the rhetoric of limited conflict.

The Cold War itself was not peace, but a special form of global confrontation. It included coups, interventions, the arming of proxy forces, competition for spheres of influence, ideological operations, an arms race, and countless bloody campaigns. Yet there is one crucial difference between that period and the present moment. Back then, despite all their aggression, the two superpowers were disciplined by the fear of direct escalation. Nuclear balance did not eliminate wars, but in a number of cases it restrained their expansion. Even the harshest crises unfolded within a framework of strategic caution.

Today, that caution is eroding.

We are witnessing the return of the belief that force can quickly solve complex political problems. In 2022, Moscow assumed that a decisive military blow could break the situation in an acceptable time frame and on acceptable terms. In 2026, Washington and Tel Aviv operated from a similar assumption. But this is where history becomes especially treacherous. Nearly every war conceived as short and manageable has in reality turned into something long, costly, and politically toxic. The more certain a leader is of an easy victory, the greater the probability of a strategic mistake.

The present era is dangerous not only because the number of conflicts is rising, but also because the psychological climate in the halls of power is changing. Military force is once again perceived not as a last resort, but as an instrument of first choice. International law is treated as an obstacle rather than a binding framework. Economic costs are regarded as a temporary price for a geopolitical outcome. Public opinion adapts to a permanent state of crisis. And this creates an atmosphere that resembles not peace, but a prelude to a large global collision.

Ukraine and Iran as Two Theaters of One Struggle

The central argument of those who consider talk of world war an exaggeration sounds like this: Ukraine is Eastern Europe and the post-Soviet space, Iran is the Middle East, their causes are different, their histories are different, their participants are different, therefore these are different wars. At the formal level, there is truth in that. But at the strategic level, it is already only a half-truth - and therefore a dangerous illusion.

Different causes do not cancel out the unity of consequences. Wars may begin for different reasons, but as they evolve they start to exist within one shared decision-making space. The war in Ukraine affects the ability of the United States, NATO, and Europe to act in the Middle East. The war against Iran affects the resource, political, and energy context of the Ukrainian front. Strikes on infrastructure in the Strait of Hormuz are reflected in oil markets, and oil markets are reflected in Russia’s revenue base. The diversion of American resources and attention toward the Persian Gulf gives Russia room to intensify pressure in Ukraine. Ukraine’s experience in countering Russian drones proves useful to countries that have become targets of Iranian strikes. In other words, these are no longer simply two parallel conflicts. They are communicating vessels of a single global crisis. This is exactly what the source material underscores when it directly states that the wars in Ukraine and around Iran have become arenas of great-power rivalry, have begun to exert direct influence on one another, and are drawing additional states into their orbit.

This is an extremely important point. Once wars begin to exchange effects, they cease to be purely regional even when the geography of combat remains limited. We are used to looking at the map in a flat way - as a set of separate fields. But international politics does not function like a school atlas. It functions like a nervous system: irritation at one point triggers a spasm at another.

In that sense, Ukraine and Iran today form not an alliance, not a unified bloc, but rather a dual theater of global tension in which great powers test one another, wear one another down, build coalitions, probe the limits of what is permissible, and at the same time learn how to wage war under conditions of multilayered crisis.

Oil as Weapon, Profit, and Catalyst of War

Military conflicts in the twenty-first century cannot be analyzed apart from energy. A war may begin over territory, security, ideology, the nuclear issue, or the status of alliances, but very quickly it runs into oil, gas, sea lanes, insurance rates, logistics, storage, freight, and market expectations. The modern global economy is structured in such a way that even a brief shock at a critical chokepoint can alter the behavior of states thousands of miles away.

Iran is one of those chokepoints. Any threat to the Strait of Hormuz automatically hits the market. An enormous share of the world’s seaborne oil supplies and a significant volume of liquefied gas trade pass through that corridor. Even a partial disruption of navigation creates anxiety, drives up prices, raises insurance costs, and intensifies pressure on import-dependent economies. The source text emphasizes that the shock to global oil prices caused by Iran’s closure of the Strait of Hormuz became a financial gift to Russia - both through higher prices for its own oil and through the weakening of the sanctions regime on its energy resources by the Trump administration, which was seeking to lower global prices.

This is an example of how one war literally feeds another through the mechanism of the world market.

The war around Iran, therefore, does not simply create a new crisis. It changes the conditions under which the already ongoing war in Ukraine is being fought. Additional Russian revenues mean greater resilience for its war machine. Any weakening of sanctions pressure - even partial and temporary - means broader room for maneuver. Rising energy prices hit European economies, and that in turn indirectly affects the domestic political stability of the governments that support Kyiv. At the same time, the United States finds itself facing a classic conflict of priorities: support Ukraine, stabilize the Middle East, defend maritime communications, hold allies together, prevent a new inflationary shock inside its own economy, and at the same time preserve the political manageability of the entire system.

That alone shows how naive it is to claim that wars can be isolated by diplomatic labels. They cannot be isolated if they strike the same energy heart of the global economy.

Proxy War as the New Normal

One of the defining features of the current era is the blurring of the line between direct and indirect war. International actors are increasingly avoiding the formal status of conflict participant while at the same time doing so much for one side or another that the claim of noninvolvement becomes almost a legal fiction.

The supply of long-range systems. The transfer of intelligence. The coordination of strikes. Satellite support. Financing. Training. The repair and maintenance of equipment. The provision of procurement channels. The offering of bases, transit routes, airspace protection, technical analysis, software, and electronic warfare capabilities. All of this allows a state to participate deeply in a war without officially declaring war.

Politically, this format is extraordinarily convenient. It makes it possible to keep the conflict at a certain distance from one’s own society. It reduces direct losses among the citizens of the sponsoring state. It creates room for rhetoric about supporting a partner rather than entering the war itself. But strategically, this format is no less dangerous than a direct confrontation. In fact, it may be even more dangerous, because it creates a false sense of control. It seems as though one can keep feeding resources into the fire indefinitely without risking being burned. History shows that this is a dangerous delusion.

In Ukraine and around Iran, this is exactly the picture we see. The United States and its allies arm and support Ukraine. Russia helps the enemies of the United States in the Middle East. China, North Korea, European allies, regional partners, and non-state armed groups are all elements of a complex network of involvement. The source text stresses in particular that Russia was receiving assistance from China, direct human resources from North Korea, and drones from Iran, while in the Middle Eastern conflict NATO missile defense systems, Turkey, the Gulf states, Israel, Lebanon’s Hezbollah, and the Yemeni Houthis were all involved.

This is no longer a local picture. It is a scheme of global involvement.

For a long time, proxy war was seen as a safer alternative to a direct world war. Today, it is itself becoming the method through which world war is waged. Not instead of it, but as its modern form.

Historical Parallels: Why the Seven Years’ War Is More Relevant Than It Seems

One of the most precise moves in the source text is its turn not only to the twentieth century, but to earlier history as well - above all to the Seven Years’ War of 1756-1763. At first glance, it may seem strange to compare today’s world of drones, satellites, nuclear deterrence, and digital intelligence with the age of muskets and colonial fleets. But the logic here is clear and profound.

The Seven Years’ War was, in essence, a global conflict in which several major powers fought interconnected campaigns in Europe, North America, India, at sea, and across colonial possessions. And this was not merely a matter of many simultaneous wars, but of a systemic confrontation in which victories and defeats in one theater affected the balance in another. It is precisely this principle - multiple arenas within a single strategic struggle - that links that era to our own.

It is important to emphasize that world war as a historical category is older than the First and Second World Wars. Those two catastrophes fixed the term in the popular imagination, but they do not exhaust the phenomenon. A global conflict can be less total, less industrial, less centralized, and still remain global in its scope, interdependence, and consequences. That is exactly what brings us back to the idea that the modern era requires different analytical frameworks. We cannot go on measuring the current crisis by the templates of 1939 forever. That only dulls understanding.

If one accepts this view, it becomes easier to understand why the usual diplomatic response proves so weak. International institutions are designed to localize crises. They know how to discuss individual wars. But they find it far more difficult to respond to a system of interconnected wars in which energy, sanctions, proxy forces, maritime communications, missile technology, and the domestic political cycles of great powers form a single field. The world has encountered a phenomenon that is old in its logic and new in its form.

Why the Cold War Was Not Like the Present One

A common objection sounds like this: the world also lived in a state of global confrontation during the Cold War, so what is happening today is not unique. That is only partly true. Yes, the Cold War was an immense worldwide conflict - ideological, military-political, economic, and technological. But its structure was different.

First, bipolarity created a degree of predictability. It was clear who was confronting whom, where the red lines lay, how the alliance system was organized, and which channels of communication functioned between capitals. Even in moments of crisis there existed a certain geometry of deterrence.

Second, despite their fierce competition, the two superpowers in some cases demonstrated strategic caution. They understood that a direct conflict could spiral out of control. That did not eliminate proxy wars, but it did place limits on the horizon of adventurism.

Third, the Cold War had an ideological structure. Today’s world is far more chaotic. It contains less bloc discipline, more situational coalitions, more autonomous regional calculations, more players with agendas of their own, and more temptation to exploit general disorder.

That is precisely why the current moment is in some ways more dangerous. It is less ordered. It is less adequately described by familiar terms. It lacks the architectural rigidity that both frightened and restrained the world in the era of Washington and Moscow in the twentieth century. Now many actors can push the situation toward escalation at the same time, and for different reasons. One because of territorial ambitions. Another because of a nuclear program. A third because of regional leadership. A fourth because of domestic political calculations. A fifth because of economic gain. Yet the outcome will still be shared by all.

Resource Competition and the Limits of Western Attention

Another underestimated side of the current crisis is the limitation of resources even among the most powerful states. Political rhetoric often creates the impression that the West, and especially the United States, possesses an almost unlimited capacity to support several major military campaigns at once, defend allies in different parts of the world, control sea lanes, contain inflation, supply partners with weapons, and preserve strategic initiative. In practice, that is not the case.

The defense industry has production limits. Stockpiles are not infinite. The political attention of the president, Congress, military headquarters, intelligence agencies, and diplomacy is also limited. Public support does not grow automatically. Budget decisions collide with domestic polarization. Europe is not an endless reservoir of resilience either. Every new wave of energy price increases, every new security crisis, every new surge of migration pressure, and every new budget dispute reduces the ability of European governments to maintain their previous level of mobilization.

That is why every new war inevitably affects those already underway. The source text states directly that the diversion of attention and resources toward Iran helped Russia launch its spring offensive aimed at consolidating and expanding territorial gains in Ukraine. This is not merely a detail of the chronicle. It is a fundamental mechanism of the new type of world war. It is not always necessary to strike an adversary’s ally directly in order to help oneself. Sometimes it is enough to open another theater that will redistribute attention, ammunition, diplomatic effort, and media focus.

The world is gradually entering an era of competition not only in armaments, but also in political attention. And attention, like missiles, is also a limited resource.

Military Technology as a Bridge Between Fronts

In the twentieth century, wars often differed in the kinds of weapons used and in the level of technological development of the participants. Today, technological transfer between conflicts has become almost instantaneous. The same drone solutions, electronic warfare systems, camouflage methods, forms of distributed intelligence, tactics for striking infrastructure, and even algorithms of information warfare are rapidly transferred from one region to another.

In this sense, Ukraine has become a vast laboratory of modern war. The mass use of drones, counter-drone solutions, digital intelligence, distributed fire-control systems, strikes on energy infrastructure, and combined campaigns aimed at exhausting air defense - all of this is now being studied worldwide. It is no accident that the source text notes that Ukraine offered the United States and Arab countries targeted by Iran the experience it had accumulated in countering drones.

This means that the theaters are now connected not only politically and economically, but technologically as well. Modern war has become rapidly reproducible. A successful tactic ceases to be local know-how and almost instantly turns into an exportable practice. As a result, one front becomes a school for another. This increases the overall speed of the evolution of military violence and makes the global system of conflicts even more tightly interwoven.

The danger here is that the world is seeing not only the spread of defensive technologies, but also the spread of technologies of destruction. Cheap drones, commercial components, digital coordination, satellite navigation, and artificial intelligence for data analysis all lower the threshold for entering serious war. And the lower that threshold becomes, the more actors are capable of inflicting significant damage. In a world system already saturated with tension, this creates the effect of an explosive multiplication of threats.

The Pull of Small and Middle Powers

World wars rarely begin with great powers immediately smashing into one another head-on. Far more often, they unfold through the gradual pull of the periphery. Small and middle powers become either the arena, the transit route, the coalition element, the source of raw materials, the site for bases, the object of pressure, or the target of retaliation.

This is especially visible in both of the conflicts under discussion. In the case of Ukraine, European countries play an enormous role, taking on an ever greater share of support for Kyiv. China provides Russia with economic and technical resilience. North Korea, according to various data and assessments, contributes manpower. Iran supplies drones. On the other side, the Middle Eastern conflict is drawing in Turkey, the Gulf states, Lebanon, Yemen, Israel, and allied NATO systems.

In such a system, small and middle powers lose the luxury of neutrality. Even if they do not want to fight, they are forced to choose their degree of involvement. Allow transit or refuse it. Provide a base or close the skies. Join sanctions or seek exemptions. Support an ally diplomatically or remain silent. Deploy missile defense systems or limit themselves to statements. As a result, the geography of tension expands far beyond the formal front line.

This is one of the most insidious features of the new world war: it turns the entire international order into a space of gradual mobilization. Not necessarily universal, not necessarily total, but mobilization all the same. Every state is forced to recalculate its risks. Every capital asks itself the same question: where is the next line of entanglement?

International Law as a Casualty of the Age of Force

Any major war is a blow not only to people and infrastructure, but also to the normative order. When major powers begin to act according to the logic of force, international law does not disappear, but it sharply loses its operational significance. It continues to be cited, it continues to be invoked, but real decisions are made on the basis of perceived advantage, risk, balance of power, and domestic political need.

The source text contains an important idea: both Putin and Trump proceeded from the assumption that their goals justified almost any level of violence, even if it went beyond the bounds of international law. This is not a formulation about personalities as such, but about a broader process. It shows that the norm prohibiting the use of force without a clear basis in international law is becoming less and less of a restraint on great powers.

When that happens, the world system enters a very dangerous state. Law ceases to be a framework and becomes an instrument of rhetorical selection. It is used when it is useful and bypassed when it is inconvenient. But the trouble is that in a world where law is weakened, even rational actors begin to behave more aggressively simply because trust in common rules disappears. If you are convinced that others will act by force, you have an incentive either to strike first, to strengthen yourself urgently, or to create your own zone of coercion. That is how the international system slides into self-sustaining militarization.

Multipolarity Without Rules

In recent years it has become fashionable to talk about multipolarity. Usually the term sounds almost neutral, sometimes even optimistic: the era of one-sided dominance is over, the world has become more balanced, and different centers of power now have a chance to shape the global agenda. But multipolarity by itself does not guarantee stability. More than that, historically, transitions to multipolar systems have often been accompanied by rising conflict.

The reason is simple. In a unipolar world there is a great deal of injustice, but usually more predictability. In a bipolar world there is a great deal of tension, but the front lines are clearer. In a multipolar world, the number of power centers increases, coalitions become less stable, the temptation to revise the status quo grows, and miscalculation becomes more likely. Every major player tests how far it can go. Every middle power tries to profit from the struggle of the larger ones. Every regional crisis begins to be viewed not only through local logic, but also as a chance to redistribute global positions.

That is exactly where we are. Ukraine has become the field of confrontation between Russia and the West. Iran has become a node in the struggle among the United States, Israel, Russia, and a whole range of regional powers. China, meanwhile, is assessing how the balance of power is shifting and how war in one region affects opportunities in another. Europe is simultaneously trying to support Ukraine, avoid wrecking its own economic stability, and keep from being drawn deeper into Middle Eastern escalation. Turkey is maneuvering between alliance obligations, regional interests, and its own strategic autonomy. The Gulf states are trying to avoid direct destruction, but they are forced to account for the threat of missile and drone strikes. This is not a chessboard. It is a complex mechanism with dozens of interlocking gears.

That is precisely why multipolarity without rules is so dangerous. It does not merely multiply centers of power. It multiplies centers of crisis.

The Economy of War and the Limits of Globalization

Not long ago, globalization was described as a natural antiwar mechanism. The assumption was that high interdependence made major wars too expensive and therefore less likely. At a certain stage, that logic worked. But today it is becoming clear that interdependence does not eliminate conflict - it merely changes its cost and redistributes its consequences.

Modern wars do not destroy globalization completely. They fragment it, reconfigure it, and turn trade, technology, finance, energy, logistics, and insurance into instruments of pressure. The world is not exiting interdependence. It is entering a regime of armed interdependence. Oil becomes leverage. Semiconductors become leverage. Sea routes become leverage. Payment systems become leverage. Export controls become leverage. Sanctions become leverage. Insurance premiums become leverage. Even grain, fertilizer, and shipping tonnage become parts of the geopolitical game.

This means that a new type of world war can unfold without the total collapse of global trade. It is enough for global supply chains to become arenas of coercion. In such a world, one missile salvo against a port, one attack on a tanker, one wave of sanctions, or one disruption in a strait can redistribute billions of dollars and alter the strategic decisions of governments.

That is why globalization can no longer be opposed to war. In the twenty-first century, globalization itself is becoming the environment in which war is waged.

Information Fatigue as a Factor of Escalation

There is another subject that is discussed too little, although it is critically important. The world is gradually growing tired of permanent crisis. Information flows are structured in such a way that even enormous wars become background noise. Society grows accustomed to a new level of violence. Politicians learn to manage that habit. Media outlets rotate catastrophes. Public outrage loses depth and becomes cyclical.

This is dangerous because a new type of world war does not always produce the effect of immediate shock. It can unfold in fragments. One strike here, one escalation there, one price crisis, one allied mobilization, one exchange of threats. In the absence of the feeling of a single overwhelming catastrophe, states may realize too late that they are already inside a major global conflict.

In the twentieth century, world wars were hard to miss. In the twenty-first century, world war may arrive as the sum of separate emergency headlines, each of which, taken by itself, seems manageable. That is precisely where its danger lies.

The Most Dangerous Mistake - Thinking Locally

The main conclusion follows from everything said above. The world is entering an era in which local thinking becomes strategically fatal. Security can no longer be treated as a set of separate case files. A crisis in one region can no longer be analyzed apart from another. It is no longer possible to assume that aid to an ally, sanctions against an adversary, a strike on nuclear infrastructure, an operation to protect a maritime route, a shipment of drones, or a decision to deploy missile defense systems has only local significance.

Every one of these decisions now operates within a global system.

That is precisely the main warning of the source text: if leaders do not learn to think globally under the conditions of an emerging multipolar world, where great powers are struggling for spheres of influence, they risk failing to notice the moment when a limited war of choice turns into a world war that no one formally wanted.

This warning carries particular weight against the backdrop of the recent eightieth anniversary of the end of the Second World War. We like to think of that war as the absolute historical limit, an incomparable catastrophe that civilization will never again permit. And indeed, one wants to hope that nothing of that scale of destruction will be repeated. But hope is not a strategy. Strategy must begin from a sober assessment: the world is once again living in an era in which great powers increasingly see force not as an exception, but as a norm; in which regional conflicts quickly become nodes of global struggle; in which energy, technology, and proxy structures bind different fronts into a single system; in which international law is weakened; and in which multipolarity is not balanced by new rules.

What Comes Next

The most honest answer sounds bleak: what comes next will most likely not be one great event, but a long stretch of interconnected crises. There may be ceasefires, pauses, de-escalations, diplomatic deals, temporary agreements, and frozen fronts. But even those will not return the international system to its previous state. We have already crossed the threshold.

Under such conditions, states will have to make a difficult choice. Either they will try to restore at least some common limits on the use of force, strengthen crisis-communication channels, reduce dependence on the most vulnerable logistical arteries, and rebuild institutions for controlling escalation. Or they will continue to live by the logic of force-based opportunism, in which every new crisis is treated as a convenient moment to settle old scores.

The second path leads to the prolonged exhaustion of the world. Not necessarily to an immediate apocalyptic catastrophe, but to a condition of chronic world war - distributed, uneven, technologically advanced, economically painful, and politically corrosive to the international order.

That is why the discussion of a new era of world war should not be dismissed as journalistic exaggeration. It is not a metaphor for effect. It is an attempt to describe a reality that is already taking shape before our eyes. The world has not yet repeated the horrors of the twentieth century in their absolute scale. But it is once again moving along a trajectory in which separate wars stop being separate, and force increasingly replaces law. And that is the central symptom of the era humanity has already known once before - and for which it paid far too high a price.