Analysis by Keith Rankin.
Over the last week I have subverted the western geo-cultural tropes of ‘Good versus Evil’ and ‘Beautiful versus Ugly’. (Geopolitical Rugby: Bad plays Evil, for the final World Cup 16 Sep 2025 and Lookism11 Sep 2025; both on Scoop and Evening Report.) Here I consider our new version of the former tripolar world; that tripolar world prevailed from 1945 to 1990. Pole A, essentially the former First World, is now the Western Alliance. Pole B is equivalent to the former Second World; B is, as before, the geopolitical adversary of A. Pole C, the new Third World, is the equivalent of the former non-aligned Third World; yes, that’s the literal meaning of ‘third world’, non-alignment, neutrality.
The emergent new Second World includes the decentralised Muslim world; and has power centres in Beijing and Moscow; thus, its geographical and cultural loci are in Eurasia. The new Second World (pole B) is ‘united’ by comprising the various named enemies of the new First World; with West Europe being the geographical and cultural locus of pole A. West versus East, with substantial nuclear armaments; four nuclear countries in the West, four in the East.
The new Third World is defined neither by its geography nor its economic status. It is the neutral pole; pole C. India – the only nuclear power not in A or B – is potentially the leader of the new Third World, as it was the political leader of the old Third World. India’s future alignment remains the big geopolitical unknown.
Where does Australasia – Australia and New Zealand – fit? Given the geography (literally ‘south of Asia’), the common-sense position would be for Australia and New Zealand to become firm members of the new Third World; strictly non-aligned. But the signs are that Australasia, with only a tiny proportion of the old First World’s population, and on the opposite side of the world from the new First World, will contrive to be a fully aligned far-flung component of the new First World alliance. Though not formal members of Nato.
Nuclear Conflict
The most likely scenario for Nuclear War Two (NW2) would begin with a ‘nuclear attack’ across the present A-B (ie West-East) geopolitical boundary, noting that an important part of that boundary is inside Donetsk province; and also noting that one country – Türkiye – is ambiguously placed and may itself be regarded as a boundary-zone rather than a boundary-line.
(Both the words ‘nuclear’ and ‘attack’ come with some ambiguity. Would a strike on a nuclear power station by conventional weaponry count? Would any breach of airspace or sea-space by a nuclear-armed vehicle count as an attack?)
Any part of the world can be reached by perhaps five countries’ nuclear weapons, either from long-range missiles or launched from naval vessels (especially submarines).
Nuclear calculus is essentially ‘what happens next’, and the associated probabilities of the different scenarios. To keep my argument simple, I will assume that the first strike of NW2 is intentional, targeted, and includes at least one nuclear explosion. Such an explosion may not be on target for a variety of reasons; not least that an attacking missile may be intercepted.
My Scenario One is that of a smallish first strike on the East by the West. As, in my view, the East is more pragmatic than the West, a response would take place, but most likely would be de-escalatory or proportionate in nature; a calculated response, much as the recent responses by Iran to Israel’s provocations. The critical point would then be the next move by the West: escalation or de-escalation. De-escalation should lead to at least a temporary truce.
Escalation by the West would be problematic; presumably, and irrationally, it would target the eastern country which is already involved. Retaliation through nuclear escalation is not rational, in that the expected final outcome would be harmful to all; including harm to the retaliator. Nevertheless, the conventional presumption is that nuclear powers, if subjected to nuclear attack, would to the best of their abilities retaliate through nuclear escalation. The ‘rational’ calculus of the ‘mutually-assured-destruction’ dogma is that attacked countries would respond spitefully rather than rationally; so therefore peace depends on there being no first strike.
My Scenario Two is that of a smallish first strike on the West by one of the East’s nuclear nations. If the West – acting out of contrived fury rather than pragmatism – escalates in response, we are left with essentially the same situation as in Scenario One.
Scenarios Three and Four would be a large-scale first strike, either East on West or West on East. In these scenarios, de-escalation would be seen as capitulation with all the associated consequences of total defeat. Therefore, in these cases the response would almost certainly be proportionate or escalatory.
In all four scenarios we face situations of how to respond to a medium- or large-scale nuclear strike.
If the ‘ball’ is in the West’s court (Scenario Three), then the most likely response I would see would be an equal or larger response onto the Eastern power already involved, in the hope of splitting the East, and achieving a backdown by the East’s belligerent. The East’s non-belligerent powers would at this stage pitch for neutrality; they would ‘align’ with the new non-aligned Third World.
In the other three scenarios, we are faced with the perceived need by the East to respond to the West’s nuclear escalation. The context is the West’s alliances of ‘collective defence’; the legalised geopolitical contract (eg Nato’s Article Five) that an attack on one is an attack on all.
The situation faced by the East when de-escalation is not a realistic option.
There are two other options: escalation or deflection. Escalation, as already noted, is not rational. Its rationale is that of ‘globally-assured-destruction’, given the substantial third-party effects of nuclear warfare.
The other option for a large Asian nuclear superpower would be deflection. Deflection here means a proportionate retaliatory strike on one of the more expendable nations in the Western Alliance. Deflection lessens the probability of continued escalation.
Deflection could mean a significant nuclear strike on a non-nuclear Nato country, with the sense that Nato as-a-whole might renege on its ‘Article Five’ clause. Such a strike might end the war, with both sides preferring to pull-back from the brink; with both sides cutting their losses, so to speak.
A better deflective off-ramp might be a proportionate nuclear strike on a non-nuclear non-Nato country openly allied to Nato. That would further enhance the possibility that the nuclear war would come to an abrupt end. Would it be rational for the United States, United Kingdom, France or Israel to retaliate to a nuclear attack on a small distant non-Nato member of the Western Alliance?
There would be an awareness in all the main nuclear powers’ capital cities that, while distance can no longer prevent a country from being attacked, a nuclear calamity far away from the world’s major population centres would limit global loss of life and limit the impact on global food chains.
The Tyranny of Distance?
In 1966, Australian historian Geoffrey Blainey wrote The Tyranny of Distance. It was about the higher costs of such things as travel, trade and collective defence. Australia – especially White Australia – had a long-lasting neurosis about an East Asian lebensraum. New Zealand was always a bit more relaxed; practically the same distance to western markets and further from any putative East Asian adversary.
Nevertheless, the tyranny of distance did not prevent New Zealand’s ‘second people’ from coming from literally the other side of the world. Maritime geography and geopolitics had its own logic.
The traditional tyranny of distance hypothesis was overstated. In practical terms, in the era of sailing ships and no trains, it was much easier to travel from London to Dunedin than to Vancouver. The costs of long-distance compared to short-distance transport persistently declined. And, from the time of the telegraph coming to Australasia in the 1860s, communication between ‘down-under’ and Europe was hardly any more expensive than over much shorter distances.
But there is a new tyranny of distance for Oceania. We saw it in South Australia in the 1950s with the British nuclear testing at Maralinga. And American and French testing at Bikini and Mururoa. We have seen this tyranny of distance more generally in the mining exploitation of ‘distant’ ‘peripheral’ lands in Africa and South America. These parts of the world, distant from the world’s major population centres, are relatively exploitable and expendable.
There is a new component to the new tyranny of distance; New Zealand is coming to be treated as a billionaires’ nuclear bolthole. Refer to these 2025 stories (among many others): Billionaire boltholes: inside the doomsday hideouts of the super-rich (complete with picture of Peter Thiel), The oligarch’s guide to sitting out a nuclear winter, and Apocalypse now: Doomsday bunker secretly installed on New Zealand property – confirmed. In some privileged circles, there is a misguided belief in New Zealand exceptionalism; that Aotearoa New Zealand may be some kind of global life raft.
The presence of these people in Oceania increases the likelihood of Australasia being a nuclear target. So does Australia’s formal membership of AUKUS. So does New Zealand’s Minister of Defence signalling for Aotearoa to become an ally of Nato (refer: Judith Collins makes secret visit to site of Russian missile attack in Kyiv, TVNZ, 4 Sep 2025).
On Deflection
Far from being the least likely part of the world to become a victim of nuclear war, Oceania may indeed be the most likely venue for a deflective nuclear strike. If Aotearoa New Zealand can stifle its latent militarism (and can instead become an influential advocate for the new Third World), then the far side of Australia might be more at risk; Australia is already firmly in the European geopolitical camp, despite its obvious self-interest to maintain close ties with its Asian neighbours. Nuclear weapons are most likely to be targeted at cities, and any city far away from any other city becomes an excellent candidate for nuclear victimhood.
In the United States in 1945, there was a high-level debate about the best way to use its incipient nuclear weapon. Henry Stimson, United States Secretary for War, said “not Kyoto” (refer The man who saved Kyoto from the atomic bomb, BBC 9 August 2015). Even from the outset, war-torn Europe never looked like a good bet; indeed the July 1944 Bretton Woods Conference was conducted on the basis that allied victory was just a matter of time. The ‘dovish’ option was to perform a ‘demonstration’ drop, to show what might happen if Japan did not immediately capitulate. The problem was that, by July 1945, Japan had already been bombed to smithereens and it had still not capitulated. The alternative to a demonstration drop was a gratuitous drop or two or three on a significant Japanese city. (The next two cities on the nuclear list were Kokura and Niigata; the plan was to bomb them around November 1945, when new warheads had been manufactured.)
In the end, the Americans did do two demonstrations. In August 1945, the value to Americans of a Japanese life was no higher than the value of life of a Gazan is to an Israeli Zionist. The bombs over Japan were demonstration drops; the real audience of the demonstrations was Josef Stalin, not Emperor Hirohito. Japan was a good site for a ‘show and tell’ because it was far from both Europe and North America. Japan – like Bikini and Mururoa, later on – was a Pacific test site.
In the present geopolitical environment, and if a nuclear war starts, a deflective proportionate retaliatory nuclear strike may be the only offramp; a way to avoid assured-global-destruction. From an Eastern standpoint the ideal target would be a place which is overtly allied to its Nato foe (and, to boot, is part of its adversary’s communications network), which can produce rockets and other high-tech componentry for Nato, which is sufficiently far away from major population centres to lessen environmental harm, which has a small (thereby relatively expendable) population, which has minimal anti-missile defences, and which has in its midst a number those enemy billionaires who helped to create the geopolitical problem in the first place.
Conclusion
Nowhere is safe. Rationally, distance may make a place less safe, not more safe, from nuclear destruction. While great-power brinkmanship is far from rational, rational thinking under great pressure will be required to end a nuclear war once started. Even the most rational decision-process will involve many casualties. The frontlines of a nuclear war are not the same as the frontlines of a conventional war.
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Keith Rankin (keith at rankin dot nz), trained as an economic historian, is a retired lecturer in Economics and Statistics. He lives in Auckland, New Zealand.
