The conflict has become normalized. Peace no longer means the absence of pressure; it means living under manageable levels of it. There are no decisive victories, only shifting balances of influence
Noor Muhammad Marri Advocate | Islamabad
Over many years of observing politics, law, economics, and international affairs—both through formal study and lived professional experience—I have gradually come to the conclusion that the world has quietly moved into a new phase of conflict. This realization did not come suddenly, nor from reading a single book or witnessing a single event. Rather, it emerged slowly, through repeated patterns that could no longer be ignored. Wars were no longer being announced, yet societies were under pressure. Peace was officially intact, yet instability was constant. Something fundamental had changed in the nature of power and conflict.
In my early understanding, shaped by classical political thought and conventional international relations theory, war and peace were distinct conditions. War involved armies, borders, and violence; peace involved diplomacy, trade, and law. Over time, however, I noticed that many of the most damaging confrontations in the modern world occurred without battles or declarations. Countries were being weakened without being invaded. Governments were being pressured without being overthrown. Societies were being divided without a single foreign soldier setting foot on their soil.
What gradually became clear to me was that interdependence—the very condition once celebrated as the guarantor of peace—had become a central instrument of coercion. The global system had grown so interconnected that dependence itself could be exploited. Power no longer required destruction; it required control over systems on which others relied. Trade, energy, finance, technology, food, information, and law were no longer neutral domains of cooperation. They had become arenas of silent confrontation.
Energy dependency was among the first areas where this reality became unmistakable. I observed how countries that had organized their economies around reliable energy imports found themselves exposed to political pressure when supply chains were disrupted or prices manipulated. What appeared outwardly as commercial disagreements or technical failures carried unmistakable political signals. Heating, electricity, and industrial production—basic elements of daily life—were quietly transformed into tools of influence. This was coercion without troops, pressure without bombardment.
Trade relations followed a similar pattern. Modern economies depend heavily on access to markets and uninterrupted flows of goods. I watched how these channels could be narrowed or blocked selectively, often justified through regulatory or technical explanations. Entire sectors suffered not because of inefficiency, but because political lines had been crossed. The burden of such measures rarely fell on political elites alone; it was absorbed by workers, farmers, and small businesses, generating internal pressure within targeted states. Conflict, in this form, no longer remained external; it was absorbed into domestic life.
Read: Silent Wars OF 21st Century
Financial interdependence proved even more powerful. The dominance of certain currencies and financial systems enabled pressure to be applied across borders with extraordinary reach. Economies could be isolated, transactions frozen, and development stalled, all without violating the formal language of law. These measures functioned like sieges of an earlier age, but administered through banking regulations and compliance mechanisms. The human cost was real, yet responsibility was diffuse and rarely acknowledged.
Technological dependence added another layer to this condition. Control over key technologies and components became a strategic asset. Progress itself could be delayed by restricting access to critical inputs. Decisions framed as technical or security-driven often carried long-term geopolitical consequences. Power was being exercised not on battlefields, but in factories, laboratories, and export-control offices.
Food and agriculture, once assumed to lie outside geopolitical struggle, were drawn into this silent conflict as well. Disruptions in grain and fertilizer supplies triggered inflation, scarcity, and social unrest far from their point of origin. Hunger and economic distress ceased to be purely humanitarian concerns and became pressure points in wider strategic contests. The suffering of ordinary people was absorbed into calculations of influence.
Information flows perhaps revealed this transformation most starkly. Open societies depend on free exchange of ideas and global communication platforms. These same platforms were exploited to spread confusion, deepen divisions, and erode trust in institutions. The objective was not always persuasion but destabilization. Once confidence in shared reality weakens, governance itself becomes fragile. Influence over information thus became influence over political order.
Legal and regulatory systems were not immune. International law and compliance regimes, designed to restrain power, were increasingly used to delay projects, impose costs, and exhaust opponents. Long legal processes froze outcomes while maintaining an appearance of legitimacy. Law did not disappear; it was repurposed.
What troubled me most was the ambiguity surrounding all these practices. Each action could be justified individually—market logic, legal obligation, technical necessity. Yet collectively they formed a pattern of sustained pressure. This ambiguity made response difficult. Retaliation risked escalation; restraint invited repetition. Many states found themselves aware of coercion but unable to confront it openly.
Over time, I also realized that the boundary between domestic and foreign policy had eroded. Decisions taken abroad now shaped employment, prices, political stability, and social cohesion at home. Sovereignty came to depend less on territorial control and more on resilience within global systems. Those unable to diversify dependencies or absorb shocks remained permanently exposed.
This environment places open societies at a particular disadvantage. Systems built on transparency, legal restraint, and accountability are easier to exploit than those built on central control and opacity. Norms intended to civilize international relations can be turned against those who respect them most. Openness, once a strength, becomes a vulnerability when it is not reciprocated.
From these accumulated observations, I have come to accept that conflict has become normalized. Peace no longer means the absence of pressure; it means living under manageable levels of it. There are no decisive victories, only shifting balances of influence. Everyday life—energy bills, food prices, information, employment—has become entangled with strategic rivalry. In such a world, withdrawal from global systems is neither possible nor desirable. The challenge lies in recognizing vulnerabilities early, diversifying dependencies, strengthening institutional resilience, and cultivating public awareness that pressure does not always arrive in military form. Interdependence cannot be abandoned, but it can be managed more prudently. Without such awareness and adjustment, societies risk remaining permanently exposed to forms of conflict they neither recognize nor formally acknowledge.
Power today is exercised less through visible destruction and more through quiet constraint. The most effective weapon is the one that narrows choices without announcing itself. Understanding this reality is no longer optional; it is essential.
Read: When Trade Becomes a Weapon
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Noor Muhammad Marri is an Advocate & Mediator, based in Islamabad
