Defence & Security – Verbal Alchemy

Fear Holds Its Breath

In a room without air,
no fire was struck—
only eyes meeting silence.

The world braced for thunder,
but one man listened
to the stillness between shouts.

He did not flinch.
He did not roar.

He said — not now,
and the fuse went cold.

In a world fuelled by narratives of conquest, where glory is often bestowed on those who press the button, pull the trigger, or march forward, it is rare to find the hero who is remembered for doing — nothing. Yet, in October 1962, as the world hovered on the brink of nuclear annihilation, a soft-spoken Soviet naval officer named Vasili Alexandrovich Arkhipov made a singular choice: not to strike back.

That choice may have saved the world.

The Forgotten Officer on Submarine B-59

During the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis, Soviet submarine B-59, armed with a nuclear-tipped torpedo, found itself cornered by American destroyers in the Atlantic. Mistaking depth-charge signals for the onset of war, the sub’s captain and political officer voted to launch. Arkhipov alone refused.

He held the authority to veto. And he used it.

By insisting on restraint and persuading the crew to surface, Arkhipov likely prevented a nuclear exchange. He bore the consequences of surfacing in silence, without accolade, and returned to service as if nothing had happened.

Grace in Defeat

The act was not cowardice, nor was it a victory in conventional terms. It was a moment of calm wisdom in the middle of chaos. Arkhipov knew he might be court-martialled or disgraced. Yet he stood still. He accepted humiliation. And in doing so, he preserved peace.

History barely recorded him. His story only emerged decades later, long after his death in 1998. And still, most do not know his name.

The Man Who Refused to Win

Arkhipov’s story reminds us that the true measure of courage may lie in restraint, not retaliation. His is a legacy of moral clarity — a refusal to escalate when all signs screamed for reprisal.

Sometimes, the greatest hero is the one who chooses not to fight.

And the world turned on his silence.

Imagine the sirens sound in London.

Typhoon pilots sprint for cockpits that have flown ten per cent fewer hours this year so their squadrons could meet an emissions cap.

Tankers sit on the apron topped up with scarce Sustainable Aviation Fuel that costs four times more than kerosene, so the wing commander releases just two instead of the required four.

The calculus is brutal, and it is instant: fewer jets in the air, slimmer magazines, thinner margins.

The adversary—be it Russian bombers, Chinese hypersonic glide vehicles, or a swarm of weaponised drones smuggled across Europe’s southern flank—does not care that our bases run on wind power or that our hangars are net‑zero.

All that matters in that moment is whether we can fight and win.

Survival first, stewardship second

Climate policy is a long‑term struggle for habitability; war is an immediate struggle for survival.

Lose the second and the first becomes irrelevant.

An occupied nation has no agency over carbon prices, land‑use policy, or green R & D.

Remember how Ukraine’s grid decarbonisation goals evaporated the instant Russian missiles targeted Kyiv’s substations; the only metric that counted was megawatts restored quickly enough to keep lights on and radars spinning.

The same brutal arithmetic would apply here.

If Portsmouth is cratered or RAF Lossiemouth is reduced to rubble, our gleaming solar arrays and impeccably sorted recycling streams will not defend the Channel, guard data cables in the Atlantic, or shield cash machines from cyber‑extortion.

The illusion of choice

Proponents of the current programme argue the United Kingdom can “walk and chew gum”, greening Defence while preserving deterrence.

That phrase rings hollow when budgets are already stretched between replacing Trident, recapitalising land forces gutted after the last review, and standing up an AUKUS submarine fleet.

Every pound poured into retro‑fitting hangars is a pound not spent on stocks of medium‑range air‑to‑air missiles; every hour an F‑35B sits in a simulator to save carbon is an hour the pilot is not honing instinctive reactions to a real, air‑combat merge.

The hard truth is that Defence cannot buy itself out of physics.

Hydro‑treated plant oils and e‑fuels hold less energy per kilogram than Jet A‑1.
Batteries steal payload and range.

“Do more with less fuel” eventually becomes “do less”.

A realistic hierarchy of need

Win the fight.
Deterrence that fails costs cities, not credit‑rating points. War‑winning mass and readiness must sit at the top of the spending stack.
Harden the force.
Where green technologies also add resilience—micro‑grids that keep a station alive when the national grid is hacked, for example—they should be accelerated. But they serve the war‑fighting aim first.
Cut emissions without cutting capability.
Capitalise on incremental gains already proven in conflict—formation flying software that trims fuel burn, synthetic training that substitutes only the least valuable live sorties—not the most.
Hold ambition to account.
Net‑zero deadlines must carry a readiness‑override clause: if a target compromises deterrence, it slips. Not the other way round.

A closing vision

Picture a different headline five years hence: “RAF repels barrage on UK airspace; combat air wing retains 92 % mission‑capable rate.”

In the footnotes, you learn the bases ran on a hybrid micro‑grid, and the tankers blended 20 % SAF because supply chains allowed it—not because doctrine demanded it.

That is how sustainability should look in a world of peer conflict: a dividend of strength, never a substitute for it.

Climate change may shape the century, but if the Union Flag is replaced over Whitehall, the climate debate—along with every other public good—ends at the barrel of someone else’s gun.

First secure the realm. Then, in the peace our readiness secures, we can afford the luxury of arguing about carbon.

Category: Defence & Security

Unsung Heroes Series: Vasili Arkhipov — The Man Who Chose Peace