The unthinkable spectre of nuclear war loomed large during the Cold War, held at bay by a grim doctrine: Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD). This idea – that any nuclear strike would trigger an annihilating counterstrike, ensuring both attacker and defender are destroyed – was believed to keep the peace. Decades later, with new nuclear powers and shifting global tensions, many are asking whether MAD still deters nuclear war or if attitudes have changed. Are ordinary people today apathetic about the nuclear threat, convinced it “won’t happen” after 78 years of non-use? Do military planners still see nuclear war as unwinnable, or are some convinced it could be limited or even “won”? And what about political leaders – is a nuclear strike still a taboo red line, or has rhetoric made it seem a viable option? This deep dive examines civilian fears and complacency, military doctrines from Washington to Pyongyang, and political discourse across capitals to assess whether the old Cold War deterrent of MAD still holds in 2025.

From Cold War Doctrine to a Changing Nuclear Landscape

During the Cold War, the United States and Soviet Union amassed huge arsenals but avoided direct conflict, largely because MAD created a balance of terror. Each superpower knew that initiating a nuclear war would result in its own destruction, a “virtual certainty of annihilation” for both[1]. In this era, nuclear war was considered unthinkable – as President Reagan and Soviet leader Gorbachev jointly declared in 1985, “a nuclear war cannot be won and must never be fought.” This principle seeped into global norms, forming what scholars later called the “nuclear taboo,” a powerful informal rule against actually using the Bomb. The terrifying logic of MAD did help prevent World War III. Neither Washington nor Moscow dared cross the nuclear red line for fear of mutual destruction, even during crises like Cuba in 1962 or Able Archer in 1983. The very horror of MAD was its strength: it kept leaders’ fingers off the trigger.

However, the world has changed considerably since 1991. When the Soviet Union collapsed and the Cold War ended, nuclear fears among the public receded. For three decades, many Americans “relaxed and behaved as though they were essentially safe from nuclear events,” treating the nuclear threat as a relic of the past[2]. This period saw fewer school drills or vivid public discussions about atomic war. In international affairs, the U.S. emerged as the sole superpower, and the risk of a global nuclear standoff seemed to fade. But the nuclear club of nations was actually growing. China, India, and Pakistan built up their arsenals; Israel remained an undeclared nuclear power; and new aspirants like North Korea tested bombs. By the 2020s, geopolitical frictions had returned – U.S.-Russia rivalry rekindled, China’s rise spurred tensions, regional conflicts simmered – raising again the question: Does MAD still ensure nuclear peace, or could the unthinkable happen?

Not everyone is convinced that the old rules will hold indefinitely. In fact, some experts argue MAD was always a tenuous bargain. Deterrence relies on all actors behaving rationally to avoid their own doom. But what if a leader stops acting rationally – or values other goals over self-preservation? As one analysis noted in 2022, Vladimir Putin’s actions in Ukraine challenged the notion that nuclear deterrence alone prevents war: “Putin has shown that relying on nuclear deterrence to deter all war is flawed. Clearly it has not deterred his willingness to attack a neighbour” that lacks nuclear weapons[3]. While Russia has not dared to attack NATO directly (which would risk a U.S. nuclear response), the invasion of Ukraine proved that having nukes doesn’t stop a nuclear-armed power from waging major conventional war against a non-nuclear state. This has led many to ask: if deterrence can fail at the conventional level, could it one day fail at the nuclear level too?

Historically, leaders on both sides of the Iron Curtain accepted that a nuclear exchange would be suicidal. But the proliferation of nuclear weapons to new countries introduces new dynamics. During the Cold War, MAD was a two-player standoff; now there are multiple nuclear actors with different mindsets. Today’s nuclear landscape includes states like North Korea, whose leadership’s worldview is opaque and arguably more risk-tolerant, or a potentially nuclear-armed Iran driven by ideological zeal. A former U.S. official warned that some regimes “may not care if we retaliate” – suggesting the old balance of terror might not scare them[4]. For instance, analysts speculate that Iran’s theocratic rulers might be willing to absorb massive loss if it meant destroying an arch-enemy (e.g. “the exchange of Tehran for Tel Aviv” might be viewed as a net ideological victory)[5]. Similarly, North Korea’s Kim Jong Un has hinted he could resort to nuclear strikes if his regime’s survival is threatened, confident that his adversaries fear chaos enough to back down. These scenarios test the limits of MAD: what if one side is undeterrable?

To explore whether MAD still deters nuclear war, we must look at how different groups think about the bomb: the public, the military, and political leaders. Attitudes have evolved from the panicked drills of the 1950s, through the anxious détente of the 1980s, to the post-Cold War complacency of the 2000s, and now into a new era of rising nuclear rhetoric. Below, we examine each perspective – civilian, military, and political – across various key countries (United States, Russia, China, North Korea, India, Pakistan, Israel, and Iran) to paint a comprehensive picture.

Civilian Attitudes: Fear vs. Apathy in a Post-Cold War Generation

How do ordinary people today feel about the prospect of nuclear war? The answer is complex: public concern tends to ebb and flow with world events. In the late Cold War, fear of nuclear Armageddon was widespread – cultural touchstones like the film “The Day After” (1983) or protests for disarmament reflected public anxiety. After 1991, many people, especially in the West, largely filed nuclear war away as a distant hypothetical. An entire generation grew up with no duck-and-cover drills and an assumption that nukes are so terrible, no one would ever use them. This mindset exemplifies what psychologists call “optimism bias” – the tendency to believe bad events (like nuclear war) won’t happen to us. Studies suggest around 80% of people have some optimism bias[6], which can translate into assuming that nuclear war “won’t happen here, won’t happen now.” Many Western publics especially came to take peace for granted.

Polls during the 1990s and 2000s showed relatively low salience of nuclear war as a top fear for Americans and Europeans. For example, a 2010 U.S. survey found only 12% thought a nuclear war was “very likely” in the next decade[8]. The existential dread of the Cold War faded from everyday life. In fact, by the 2010s some commentators fretted that people had become too apathetic, lacking the healthy fear that drove past arms control efforts[9]. This “nuclear complacency” was noted in government too – Newt Gingrich observed that the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, conceived in 2001 partly to prepare for nuclear terrorism, had by now “degenerated into a bureaucratic mess” seemingly incapable of handling even a single nuclear event[10]. In short, after decades without a nuclear crisis, the public and institutions alike started to believe such nightmares belonged to history.

That complacency has been shaken in recent years. The return of great-power conflict – notably Russia’s war in Ukraine – jolted public awareness of nuclear risk. In 2022, as Moscow issued nuclear threats, global concern spiked to levels “not seen in decades”[11]. Suddenly, news programs talked about nuclear escalation; sales of iodine pills (to counter radiation) spiked in Europe; and governments dusted off civil defence pamphlets. Polls reflected this renewed anxiety. In the United States, Chapman University’s longstanding survey on American fears saw “Russia using nuclear weapons” enter the Top 10 fears for the first time in 2022, with 59.6% of Americans saying they were afraid or very afraid of that scenario[12]. By 2023, it remained the third most common fear in America (about 52.5%, only slightly down from 2022)[13] – ranking above even personal health fears. Americans also increasingly fear a broader world war: over half are afraid the U.S. could get drawn into World War III[15].

Europeans, too, exhibit heightened worries. A late-2023 global poll found 40% of respondents worldwide now assess the risk of nuclear weapons use as “high,” with another ~40% calling it a moderate risk[17]. Notably, people in countries nearer to conflict zones report the highest fear: in Europe, nations like Italy, Portugal, and Romania have among the most worried publics regarding nuclear threat[18]. Meanwhile, some populations living under direct threat have paradoxically lower fear – the same poll found Ukraine (target of Russia’s threats) among the countries with the lowest perceived risk, perhaps due to fatalism or constant exposure dulling the fear[19]. Interestingly, younger people globally tend to be more pessimistic about the nuclear threat than older generations[20], which could reflect growing awareness through social media or simply the weight of inheriting these unresolved dangers.

Still, there are segments of society that remain largely apathetic or in denial about nuclear war. This is often tied to the belief that after so many decades of restraint, “it just won’t happen.” Psychologists warn this is a “normalcy bias” – assuming future events will follow past patterns[21]. The danger is that normalcy bias can lead to underestimating low-probability but high-consequence events like nuclear conflict. In some freer societies, nuclear war talk is so abstract that it fails to gain traction compared to immediate issues (jobs, health, etc.). In more authoritarian countries, state propaganda can either stoke fear or suppress it. Russia is a striking case: since 2022, Kremlin-controlled media has openly mused about using nuclear weapons in Ukraine, arguably desensitizing the Russian public to the idea. Polling by Russia’s independent Levada Centre shows a disturbing trend – in November 2024, 39% of Russians said using nuclear weapons in the Ukraine war could be justified, an increase over earlier in the year[22]. The share outright opposed to any nuclear use dropped from 52% to 45% over a few months[23]. This suggests that constant nuclear sabre-rattling has eroded the public’s moral taboo, normalizing the once unthinkable (at least if used against an “enemy”). In contrast, most Americans, Europeans, and Asians still recoil at the notion of initiating nuclear war – but perhaps take for granted that no one would actually push the button.

In summary, civilian attitudes run the gamut from renewed fear to dangerous apathy. Public polling data indicates a recent upswing in nuclear anxieties, yet also highlights differences across countries. Many citizens now rank nuclear war among their top fears, and global concern remains high[24]. However, decades of peace have also bred a degree of disbelief that it could ever really happen – an optimism bias that may prove perilous if it leads societies to ignore warning signs. The challenge is striking a balance: avoiding panic or fatalism, but staying alert that MAD’s deterrent power is not magic – it only works as long as all sides truly fear the outcome.

Military Perspectives: Do Armed Forces Consider Nuclear War Winnable?

From the military standpoint, the doctrine of MAD has always been a double-edged sword. On one hand, deterrence is a core military strategy – the whole point of having nuclear forces is to dissuade an enemy from attacking. On the other hand, militaries must also plan for the worst-case scenario that deterrence fails. This has led to a paradox: generals prepare elaborate nuclear war plans that they hope never to execute. Over time, some strategists have explored whether limited nuclear war could be fought and controlled, challenging the absolutism of MAD. Today, different nations’ militaries have varying doctrines on nuclear use, reflecting whether they see any scenario to employ nukes beyond deterrence.

Officially, the United States and Russia (and other major powers) still agree that full-scale nuclear war would be catastrophic for all. As recently as January 2022, all five recognized nuclear weapon states (U.S., Russia, China, Britain, France) jointly stated that “a nuclear war cannot be won and must never be fought,” reaffirming the Cold War mantra[25]. This high-level political consensus implies that no sane military seeks an all-out nuclear exchange. Indeed, U.S. military doctrine for decades has centred on deterrence and second-strike capability (the ability to retaliate even after absorbing a surprise hit, thus reinforcing MAD). Russian doctrine has officially been similar in that strategic sense – with a twist. In 2020, Russia updated its nuclear policy to allow nuclear use in response to conventional threats to “the very existence of the state.” And Russian military writings have often been interpreted (especially in the West) as embracing an “escalate to de-escalate” strategy: the idea of using a limited nuclear strike to shock an adversary into backing down in a conventional war[26]. In plain terms, this means Russian planners might consider firing a small nuclear weapon (for example, against a military target or as a high-altitude burst) if they are losing a war, hoping to force a ceasefire on favourable terms[28]. It’s a gambit that assumes the other side would not retaliate with full nuclear force for a limited use – a risky assumption that deviates from strict MAD.

Western analysts debate whether “escalate to de-escalate” truly reflects Russia’s intentions or is a misunderstanding. But recent events give it credence: as Russia’s Ukraine invasion faltered in 2022, Putin repeatedly raised the spectre of using a nuclear weapon, hinting that if NATO intervened too directly, Moscow might resort to its ultimate arsenal[29]. U.S. and NATO officials privately warned the Kremlin of “catastrophic consequences” if Russia crossed that line[31], essentially re-asserting MAD: any nuclear use, even tactical, could trigger a broader war that Russia cannot win. So far, that deterrent messaging has worked – Putin backed off, admitting in October 2022 “we see no need for that… no point in that, neither political nor military”[32]. This episode shows that militaries still weigh the massive downsides of nuclear use. As U.S. analysts noted, deploying a tactical nuke might yield only limited battlefield gains while bringing “significant downsides”, potentially inviting NATO retaliation and isolating Russia globally[34]. In short, even if war planners consider limited nuclear options, they know it’s a devil’s bargain – once the nuclear threshold is crossed, all bets are off.

Military thinkers have also explored technological ways around MAD, such as missile defences or counterforce strikes. If one side could shoot down the other’s retaliation or disarm them first, nuclear war might be “won” in theory. In practice, though, no system can guarantee stopping a large-scale strike. That hasn’t stopped efforts: the U.S. invests in missile defence, and voices on Capitol Hill argue that if MAD is becoming obsolete, robust defences are needed[35]. So far, however, MAD endures because offense (multiple warheads, submarine-based missiles, etc.) beats defence – making a disarming first strike or perfect shield impossible. This mutual vulnerability underlies strategic stability.

Where we do see militaries envisioning nuclear use is at the tactical level or in regional contexts. Pakistan, for example, openly fields low-yield nuclear weapons for battlefield use to counter India’s conventional superiority. A former Pakistani commander noted that their tactical nukes have “poured cold water” on India’s limited-war plans[36] – essentially deterring India by threatening that any invasion could quickly be met with a nuclear response on Pakistani soil. This suggests Pakistan’s military, while fully aware a full exchange would be national suicide, believes small nuclear strikes might be usable to stave off defeat. India, for its part, maintains a doctrine of No First Use (NFU) – vowing to only use nukes in retaliation – but also threatens “massive retaliation” if Pakistan ever did drop the bomb. Both Indian and Pakistani generals know a nuclear war would be horrific; past crises (like Kargil in 1999, or the 2019 Pulwama standoff) saw them walk up to the brink but pull back. Still, the fact that their militaries integrate nuclear options into war planning means they haven’t completely subscribed to the idea that nuclear war is unwinnable. They seem to calculate that a very limited nuclear war might be fought before MAD-level destruction occurs – a dangerous assumption to test.

Similarly, North Korea’s military posture treats nuclear weapons as usable tools, not mere last-resort deterrents. In 2022, Pyongyang codified a law allowing preemptive nuclear strikes “to protect itself,” even to “gain the upper hand during a war,” explicitly spelling out scenarios where it might launch first[37]. Kim Jong Un has ordered “exponential” expansion of the arsenal and keeps a policy of striking if his regime or leadership is imperiled[38]. Such doctrine implies North Korea believes it could fight a limited nuclear war – for instance, nuking U.S. bases in Asia or South Korean forces to stave off an overthrow – and somehow not be annihilated in return. Outside experts doubt this logic; any nuclear use by North Korea would almost certainly trigger massive U.S. retaliation, spelling the end of the regime. But from the North Korean military’s perspective, nukes are the ultimate trump card against invasion, and they flaunt them to deter as well as to potentially decapitate enemy forces in extremis. This contrasts sharply with most other nuclear states, which at least publicly play down notions of actually firing nuclear weapons except as a last resort.

Military elites also consider accidental or inadvertent nuclear war, another facet of MAD’s fragility. Throughout the Cold War there were false alarms and close calls (e.g. the 1983 Able Archer incident) that nearly led to launch. Modern militaries put safety mechanisms in place, but as long as weapons exist, the risk of miscalculation or accident remains. This is why U.S. and Russian officers still maintain “hotlines” and communication channels – to avoid misunderstandings that could escalate. NATO and Russia have also signalled in the current Ukraine conflict that they want to keep it non-nuclear: Western officials have been careful to limit direct engagement, and Russian officials emphasize (for now) that nuclear use would only be if Russia’s homeland were existentially threatened. The shadow of MAD thus imposes caution. In a hypothetical U.S.-China clash over Taiwan, analysts note that both sides would be extremely wary of crossing the nuclear threshold; as one report put it, even if conventional war broke out, “the shadow of mutual nuclear destruction would continue to deter the leadership on each side from letting the conflict go too far”[40]. Top generals know that a U.S.-China nuclear exchange has no victory – only mutual ruin.

It is telling that militaries continue to invest heavily in survivable second-strike forces (like submarine-launched missiles and mobile ICBMs) – a direct bolstering of MAD credibility. They are also developing advanced conventional weapons and cyber capabilities, perhaps hoping wars can be won without going nuclear at all. In fact, the trend in U.S., China, and Russia is to emphasize conventional precision strike and information warfare, treating nukes truly as weapons of last resort or coercive threats rather than frontline warfighting tools. The outliers are states like Pakistan and North Korea, which due to their conventional inferiority see more utility in nukes for actual battlefield use.

To gauge “winnability,” consider expert commentary: Dr. Jacek Kugler, an international relations professor, argues that nuclear deterrence is “unstable” because major powers and even smaller nuclear states have adopted war-fighting strategies. He notes that our analysis shows “Mutual Assured Destruction is tenuous” – global powers are preparing for potential conflict by developing tactical nuclear options[41]. In his view, policymakers can rationally decide to use nuclear arms to advance their goals, and the deployment of tactical nukes indicates an objective “to limit the costs of a nuclear war, not avert it”[42]. This sobering assessment means some military planners believe if nuclear war comes, it might be contained in scale. But Kugler and others warn this is a dangerous delusion: a leader could mistakenly think a limited nuclear war can stay limited, when in reality it could spiral out of control[43]. Indeed, once the first mushroom cloud appears, it breaks a 78-year precedent and all psychological barriers – who can say full escalation won’t follow?

In summary, from the military perspective MAD remains a guiding principle at the strategic level – no one seeks a total nuclear slugfest – but there is clearly more nuance now. Some armed forces (Russia, Pakistan, North Korea, etc.) have lowered the bar for nuclear use in specific scenarios, suggesting they think nuclear war is at least survivable or usable in small doses. Others (U.S., NATO, China, India) publicly maintain that nuclear weapons are purely deterrents or retaliatory weapons, yet even they quietly plan for “what if” situations. Militaries are pragmatic: they hope for the best (deterrence) but prepare for the worst (fighting amid nuclear fallout). The net effect is that MAD still deters all-out war between the major powers – a U.S.-Russia or U.S.-China direct nuclear exchange remains deterred because it guarantees mutual suicide. However, the edges of the taboo have frayed: limited nuclear strikes are contemplated by some, and conflicts on the periphery (like India-Pakistan or Korea) could plausibly see one side try a nuclear option without immediately blowing up the world. Whether that gamble could succeed without escalation is a hotly debated, and thankfully untested, question.

Political Attitudes and the Nuclear Taboo: Red Lines and Rhetoric

Politicians are the ones who ultimately decide to use or not use nuclear weapons. Since 1945, a strong nuclear taboo took hold among world leaders – an understanding that crossing the nuclear threshold again would be morally reprehensible and strategically reckless. For decades, even volatile leaders shied away from openly threatening nuclear war. To threaten nukes was itself seen as beyond the pale in most circumstances, and actually using one was virtually unthinkable. Has this political stance changed?

For the most part, nuclear war remains a last-resort, “doomsday” option in political discourse. Mainstream leaders continue to stress that nuclear weapons are defensive deterrents, not war-fighting instruments. For example, in the wake of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, President Joe Biden and NATO reiterated that their own nuclear arms “serve defensive purposes, deter aggression and prevent war,” pointedly rejecting “irresponsible rhetoric concerning potential nuclear use”[44]. Western officials take pains to avoid loose talk about nukes – a notable contrast to some of their adversaries. In mid-2022, as nuclear fears spiked, a remarkable wave of global political consensus upheld the taboo: 147 non-nuclear weapon states at the UN declared any use of nukes “unacceptable under any circumstances”[45], and even China’s President Xi Jinping weighed in that the world should “jointly oppose the use of, or threats to use, nuclear weapons”[46]. The Group of 20 (which includes major powers like China and India) agreed in Nov 2022 that nuclear threats and use are “inadmissible”[47]. Such statements show that politically, there is still a strong norm against going nuclear. The red line is intact on paper: nuclear war is treated as a scenario to avoid at all costs.

Yet, politics is not immune to the winds of change. We have seen in recent years a disturbing normalization of nuclear threats in some quarters. Vladimir Putin and his inner circle have arguably eroded the taboo by regularly brandishing Russia’s nuclear capability in speeches. Putin has reminded the world that Russia has a precedent (alluding to the U.S. bombing of Hiroshima/Nagasaki) and said he will use “all weapon systems” if Russia’s territorial integrity or existence is at stake, pointedly adding “this is not a bluff”[48]. His ally, former President Dmitry Medvedev, has made even more explicit nuclear threats, including towards Western cities[49]. This kind of rhetoric – threatening nuclear strikes as a form of coercion – was extremely rare in the post-Cold War era, but now it emanates from a member of the UN Security Council. While Russian officials couch these threats as “defensive” deterrence[50], the frequency and casualness with which they speak of nuclear use is unprecedented in modern times. However, notably, Putin has not actually ordered a nuclear strike, and he moderated his language after global backlash. Facing united warnings and lacking any military rationale, he stepped back, saying nuclear use had “no point” militarily[52]. In essence, the combined diplomatic and deterrent pressure forced Putin to respect the taboo, at least for now. The episode underscored that breaking the nuclear taboo carries huge political cost – even many of Russia’s allies (China, India) made clear their disapproval of nuclear threats[53].

In Western democracies, it is virtually impossible to publicly promote nuclear war as “winnable.” No responsible elected official advocates using nukes except as a retaliatory last resort. The political consensus in the U.S. and Europe remains that nuclear war would be a civilization-ending catastrophe. There have been a few outliers – for instance, in the 1980s some U.S. strategists in the Reagan administration mused about fighting and surviving a nuclear war, but they were met with public outrage and quickly backpedalled. Today, U.S. policy explicitly emphasizes reducing nuclear roles (e.g. recent Nuclear Posture Reviews). One might recall heated debates during the Trump era when reports emerged that President Trump asked “why can’t we use nuclear weapons” – these reports alarmed observers but did not translate into any actual change in policy. In fact, in January 2021 as he left office, the U.S. Joint Chiefs felt it necessary to remind everyone in writing that a nuclear strike would only occur if absolutely required for defence, implicitly reaffirming the taboo. American politicians across the spectrum routinely state that nuclear war must never be fought – a rare point of agreement.

However, politics in authoritarian or revolutionary states can diverge. North Korea’s leadership, for example, openly celebrates its nuclear arsenal and weaves nuclear threats into propaganda. Kim Jong Un’s regime portrays nukes as a righteous sword protecting sovereignty. In political rallies and state media, North Korea doesn’t treat nuclear use as taboo – rather as inevitable if enemies provoke them. Kim has even said North Korea’s status as a nuclear-armed state is “irreversible” and that he would never negotiate it away[55]. He has framed nuclear weapons as a multipurpose tool: deterrence, retaliation, and preemptive strike if needed. This is a starkly different political narrative than the restraint-talk we hear elsewhere. Still, even Kim likely understands that using a nuke would bring crushing retaliation; his threats may be largely aimed at deterring U.S. and South Korean action (indeed, his frequent nuclear posturing is credited with deterring regime-change moves against him). Thus, in Pyongyang’s political theatre, nuclear war is presented as a winnable option to rally domestic support, but the reality might be that the regime hopes never to have to test that, using the threats to secure concessions.

Pakistan and India’s political leaderships both acknowledge the horror of nuclear war and have to carefully manage crises to avoid escalation. After their 1998 nuclear tests, both countries’ Prime Ministers wrote letters referencing Gandhi and the Prophet, lamenting the bomb even as they justified having it. In every Indo-Pakistani crisis since, foreign leaders (like U.S. presidents) have had to prod both sides to step back, and publicly both Delhi and Islamabad insist they do not want war. Pakistan’s political and military leaders, however, often invoke their nuclear capability to deter India – a form of nuclear signalling in politics. The late Pakistani leader Benazir Bhutto once said if India ever marched on Pakistan, they would “leave only scorched earth.” India’s leaders, following NFU policy, refrain from nuclear threats, but they too remind the world that India can retaliate massively if attacked. So politically, South Asian leaders walk a tightrope: they must project strength to their domestic base (and deter the adversary) by brandishing their nuclear muscle, yet simultaneously reassure the international community that they are responsible stewards who won’t ignite Armageddon. It’s a delicate balance – but so far, despite wars and terror attacks, both sides have kept the taboo.

Israel’s politicians maintain an official stance of ambiguity (“we will not be the first to introduce nuclear weapons in the Middle East,” as their formula goes) – widely understood to mean Israel has nukes but only for absolute last resort. No Israeli leader openly discusses using nuclear weapons; it’s simply not mentioned, reinforcing the taboo through silence. The closest Israel came to the brink was reportedly during the 1973 Yom Kippur War when Golda Meir’s government armed warheads as a contingency – but even then, the secret was tightly held. Israeli politics treat nuclear weapons as an existential insurance policy, not a usable military option. In fact, Israeli leaders are far more vocal about preventing others (like Iran) from getting nukes than about their own. This indicates that for Israel, nuclear war remains a forbidden topic, to be averted unless national annihilation is on the table.

And what of Iran, often labelled a “fanatical” regime by its adversaries? Officially, Iran claims it does not want nuclear weapons at all – its leaders call nukes “haram” (forbidden by Islam). Many analysts debate the sincerity of this stance. Should Iran obtain the bomb, would its revolutionary ideology make it more likely to use one? Detractors point to extremist rhetoric (like former President Ahmadinejad’s infamous statement about Israel “vanishing from the page of time”) as evidence that Iran might welcome apocalypse. However, others note that Iran’s clerical leaders have thus far shown a strong instinct for self-preservation and regime survival; they have not started wars directly and typically act via proxies to avoid overwhelming retaliation. So even in Tehran’s case, MAD might well deter – if grudgingly. Still, regional rivals fear an Iranian bomb because they worry theocratic or millenarian beliefs could override the rational calculus that stops other states from suicide. Israeli Defence Minister Yoav Gallant warned in 2023 that Iran, if armed, “will not be satisfied by a single nuclear bomb”[57], suggesting a view that Iran might actually use one and then seek more. For now, this remains hypothetical, as Iran does not yet have a nuclear weapon. But politically, the mere prospect has already eroded norms: multiple Middle Eastern states have hinted they’d pursue their own nukes if Iran gets them, a cascade that would strain MAD stability in the region.

Finally, beyond nation-states, consider the ultimate nightmare: terrorists or non-state fanatics with nukes. MAD offers no protection here – a terrorist group has no homeland to destroy in retaliation. This was recognized even in the complacent ’90s: a U.S. commission in 1998 presciently warned that the greatest threat was a nuclear attack by a terrorist group, not a nation-state[58]. Politically, all governments agree nuclear terrorism must be prevented at all costs, because deterrence cannot work on zealots willing to die. Thankfully, such actors have not obtained a nuclear device, but the possibility underscores that MAD is a deterrent that only functions between rational state actors with return addresses.

In assessing political attitudes, the bottom line is that nuclear war is still largely taboo and viewed as a “red line” by the international community. No leader wants to be the first since 1945 to break that 80-year taboo – the stigma and consequences would be enormous. Even Putin, for all his bluster, has so far stopped short of crossing that line due to intense global pressure and the realization it would likely spell his own end[59]. The norm against nuclear use has, if anything, been strengthened by broad condemnation of Russia’s threats – dozens of nations loudly reaffirmed the taboo, perhaps making Putin realize he would become a global pariah and invite direct intervention if he went nuclear[61]. This international norm is a form of soft deterrence in itself.

That said, the rhetoric from some nuclear-armed leaders (Russia, North Korea) has undoubtedly chipped away at the psychological barrier. The more frequently nuclear threats are issued, the more risk that one day they’re not taken seriously – or that a leader talks himself into a corner where using one seems necessary to maintain credibility. We’ve also seen public opinion in those countries become less horrified at the prospect (as noted with Russian polls)[63], potentially giving leaders a dangerous sense of leeway. Taboos are powerful but fragile: they exist only as long as everyone tacitly agrees to uphold them. If one major state shatters it by using a nuke, the entire framework of nuclear restraint could collapse overnight. This is why political scientists and peace advocates stress reinforcing the taboo now, through diplomatic pledges and arms control, before it’s tested.

Global Perspectives: Views from Key Nuclear-Armed States

To fully answer whether MAD still deters nuclear war, we should survey how different nuclear-armed (or aspiring) states perceive and leverage their arsenals today. Attitudes vary based on security doctrines, historical experience, and leadership worldview:

• United States: The U.S. remains committed to nuclear deterrence as a peacekeeping tool, not a war-fighting one. American doctrine emphasizes that nuclear weapons are only for extreme circumstances (e.g. deterring WMD attacks or existential threats to the nation or allies). U.S. leaders regularly affirm that nuclear war has no winners – echoing the Reagan-Gorbachev principle[64]. Extended deterrence (protecting allies under the U.S. nuclear umbrella) is maintained, but as Ukraine showed, it has limits – it didn’t stop Russia from attacking a non-ally. Publicly, U.S. officials condemned Russia’s nuclear threats as “dangerous and extremely irresponsible”[65], and President Biden avoided matching Putin’s rhetoric, focusing instead on steady deterrence and assistance to Ukraine[66]. U.S. military planners do study escalation scenarios, and recent posture reviews introduced a couple of low-yield nuclear options (to deter adversaries from thinking the U.S. would hesitate to respond in kind to a small nuclear use). But fundamentally, U.S. policy holds that MAD is real – any nuclear conflict with Russia or China would be catastrophic, so the priority is to prevent that conflict. The U.S. also leads alliances like NATO, which as a group states that “any use of nuclear weapons is absolutely unacceptable”[67]. American public opinion strongly supports arms control and fears rogue nuclear strikes, though confidence in U.S. missile defences (perhaps misplaced) leads nearly half of Americans to feel somewhat protected in the event of a nuclear attack[68]. In short, the U.S. sees nuclear weapons as deterring nuclear war (MAD still central), while avoiding normalizing their actual use.
• Russia: Russia inherited the Soviet superpower status and with it MAD parity with the U.S. Officially, Russia’s doctrine is defensive: it will use nuclear weapons if attacked with WMDs or if the state’s existence is threatened via conventional war. Unofficially, Moscow signals a lower threshold – the so-called “escalate to de-escalate” idea noted earlier. President Putin’s government has increasingly wielded nuclear threats in its foreign policy toolkit, something the Soviet Union generally refrained from after the Cuban Crisis. This reflects perhaps a belief that nuclear deterrence can be used for coercion, not just prevention. Yet, despite belligerent talk, Putin and his generals are keenly aware of Russia’s vulnerability under MAD. U.S. nukes and NATO’s combined arsenal still guarantee that Russia would be obliterated in a full exchange. The Ukraine war experience shows Russia feels constrained by that reality: NATO’s conventional aid to Ukraine has been massive, but Putin has not dared attack NATO territory or use a nuke, precisely because doing so could trigger direct Western military intervention that Russia cannot survive[69]. Domestically, Putin’s regime propagandizes nuclear strength to bolster nationalist pride and intimidate opponents – hence the more cavalier public attitude about possibly using one in Ukraine[71]. But strategists point out Russia has little to gain and everything to lose from breaking the nuclear taboo. Even a “successful” small strike would bring global isolation and possibly NATO retaliation that Russian forces cannot counter[73]. Thus, MAD still deters Russia from attacking NATO or engaging in strategic nuclear exchange, but Russian leaders are exploiting the grey zone below that threshold, leveraging nuclear fear to deter Western intervention. Going forward, as Russia modernizes its arsenal (including hypersonic weapons and perhaps autonomous “doomsday” torpedoes), it aims to ensure its second-strike capability and keep MAD credible. Some worry new exotic systems could tempt thinking of a decapitating first strike, but most experts agree Russia will maintain MAD rather than truly attempt a “disarming strike” capability (which is unrealistic against the U.S. arsenal). In essence, Russia’s view is that nuclear weapons are indispensable for its security and great-power status, and while they can be brandished for geopolitical effect, actual use remains a last resort (if Putin felt regime collapse was imminent, for example).
• China: China has historically had a very restrained nuclear posture. It possesses a much smaller arsenal than the U.S. or Russia (though rapidly expanding in recent years) and has consistently espoused a No First Use policy since it tested its first bomb in 1964. China views nuclear weapons primarily as a deterrent to nuclear aggression against itself – a means to ensure no one can threaten China with nukes without expecting retaliation. Beijing for decades kept its warheads at a “minimum deterrent” level, enough to inflict unacceptable damage but not seeking parity. However, with U.S.-China rivalry growing and concerns about American missile defences, China is significantly building up its ICBM silos and mobile missiles[74]. U.S. intelligence even assessed that China now has more ICBM launchers than the U.S. (though not more warheads yet)[76]. This suggests China is moving closer to a classic MAD posture of assured second strike. Politically, Chinese leaders almost never issue nuclear threats; instead, they criticize others for doing so and underline the taboo. In 2022, as noted, Xi Jinping implicitly rebuked Putin by declaring opposition to any use or threat of nuclear weapons[78]. China’s calculus regarding nuclear war is that it cannot be won – especially against the United States. Chinese military writings emphasize deterring superior foes and avoiding nuclear escalation. In a Taiwan scenario, Chinese planners recognize that if a war expanded to U.S. homeland strikes, China would suffer immensely, so they have strong incentive to limit conflicts. However, China worries about U.S. surveillance and strike assets that could potentially neutralize China’s deterrent, hence the expansion to make its nuclear force more survivable and penetrative (e.g., more missiles, some on silent submarines, development of hypersonic glide vehicles). All this is to bolster MAD vis-à-vis the U.S., not to fight a nuclear war. We can say China sees MAD as very much valid – indeed essential – to keep peace with superpowers. There is little evidence Chinese officials consider nuclear war “viable” in any conventional sense; their focus is on economic and political power. The main question mark is if U.S.-China relations sharply deteriorated (say, over Taiwan), could nuclear coercion come into play? Possibly – Chinese state media have warned that American intervention in Taiwan could face “unbearable risk,” a veiled nuclear reference. But even then, it’s likely posturing. MAD’s shadow hovers over U.S.-China tensions, restraining both sides from direct armed conflict, much as it did for the U.S.-USSR.
• India and Pakistan: In South Asia, nuclear deterrence exists in a volatile neighbourhood with frequent skirmishes. India maintains a doctrine of credible minimum deterrence with NFU. It vows massive retaliation if struck, aiming to deter Pakistan from ever contemplating nuclear use. Pakistan, feeling conventionally weaker, refuses NFU and adopts a stance of possible first use to fend off an overwhelming Indian attack. The presence of nuclear weapons has arguably prevented full-scale wars – e.g. the 2001–02 standoff and the 2019 crisis did not escalate to an all-out invasion, likely because the risk of nuclear exchange loomed. However, both countries have come perilously close to the brink on multiple occasions. Pakistani leaders have been quite blunt at times: the architect of Pakistan’s nuclear program once said if Pakistan is being overrun by India, they would use nuclear weapons even if it meant self-destruction, akin to “we will eat grass” but get a bomb. Such rhetoric underscores that Pakistan sees nuclear war as winnable only in the sense of national survival – if the country’s going down, it might take the enemy with it. India’s leadership, by contrast, speaks of nuclear weapons only as political deterrents, not battlefield tools. Yet India’s military has plans (like the Cold Start doctrine) for limited war under the nuclear threshold, and Pakistan counters that with plans to raise the threshold via tactical nukes[79]. So while MAD deters total war – India and Pakistan haven’t fought a large war since getting nukes – there remains a perception on both sides that a limited nuclear exchange could occur. Politically and publicly, there is significant fear: polls in India show strong support for nuclear retaliation if Pakistan struck, and vice versa. Neither side’s populace is “apathetic” – they know they live in a nuclear flashpoint. However, decades have passed since 1971 (the last all-out Indo-Pak war), and some complacency might set in; each crisis so far was defused, which could lead leaders to think the next one will too. This is a concern because miscalculation or a terrorist provocation could trigger an unintended escalation. Overall, India and Pakistan are a microcosm of MAD’s uneasy balance: it prevents intentional large-scale war, but constant smaller conflicts and the temptation to “game” the nuclear threshold keep the danger ever-present.
• North Korea: Perhaps the most aggressive nuclear posture belongs to North Korea. Its leadership sees nuclear weapons as the guarantor of regime survival and brandishes them frequently. North Korea openly threatens nuclear strikes on U.S. bases in Asia, the U.S. homeland, Japan, and of course South Korea. Its state media talks about turning Seoul into “a sea of fire” – hyperbole aimed at deterrence through terror. For Kim Jong Un, MAD is a one-sided equation: he wants the U.S. to believe attacking him means unacceptable losses (hence deterring regime change), but he also wants to believe he could use a nuke without immediate self-destruction. The regime’s new law outlining nuclear use includes preemptive strikes if leadership is endangered[81], basically authorizing launch on warning of a decapitation attempt. This hair-trigger policy is extremely destabilizing. However, North Korea’s arsenal, though growing, is still limited relative to the U.S. – maybe a few dozen warheads that could hit regional targets, and possibly a couple that might reach the continental U.S. Kim’s hope is that even that small arsenal is enough to make America think twice (it probably is – no U.S. president would lightly risk Los Angeles to save Seoul). So in effect, North Korea has created a mini-MAD with the U.S.: the U.S. knows striking North Korea could invite nuclear retaliation on allies or even its own territory, while North Korea knows using nukes offensively would provoke U.S. retaliation that ends the regime. The danger is misjudgement: in a conventional war on the Korean peninsula, Kim might use nukes early (as his doctrine suggests) thinking it will halt U.S. intervention, when in fact it could trigger a massive U.S. response. The political rhetoric from Pyongyang doesn’t admit any unwinnability – it touts nuclear warfighting as feasible. But behind closed doors, one hopes the realization of certain doom if they launch keeps Kim deterred. Thus far, deterrence has held: despite fiery threats, North Korea hasn’t attacked with nukes, likely because even its autocrats fear the consequences.
• Israel: Israel has an undisclosed nuclear arsenal (estimated ~80-100 warheads) developed as a last resort guarantee against existential threats. Israeli policy is deliberately ambiguous: by neither confirming nor denying its weapons, Israel avoids provocation while still deterring hostile neighbours. The attitude in Israel is that nuclear weapons are a weapon of last resort, to be used only if the country’s very existence is in jeopardy (the so-called “Samson Option”). This has restrained Israel even during intense conflicts – nuclear use was not seriously contemplated in wars like 1973 except when invasion seemed imminent. Israeli leaders refrain from nuclear rhetoric; even when Iran threatens Israel, Israel responds with conventional military plans or covert sabotage, not nuclear sabre-rattling. The taboo is strong: breaking it would forfeit Israel’s moral high ground and invite international wrath. Politically, it would also fracture Israel’s vital support from allies like the U.S. So, MAD applies in a loose sense in the Middle East: Israel’s arsenal deters any neighbouring state from attempting total war or using WMDs on Israel (they know Israel could retaliate ruinously). Conversely, Israel’s enemies without nukes (like Iraq in 1991, or potentially Iran now) have avoided direct all-out attacks on Israel partly because of that uncertainty. At the same time, Israel’s existence being at stake is a high bar – short of that, Israel will not use nukes. This restraint reinforces the global norm in its region.
• Iran: While not a nuclear weapons state yet, Iran’s perspective is crucial. Iran’s leadership claims it has a religious decree against nuclear arms, framing its nuclear program as peaceful. However, geopolitical realities make many suspect Iran at least wants the capability to build bombs. Iran has observed that North Korea, once nuclear-armed, could deter even superpowers, whereas states that disarmed (like Libya or Ukraine) became vulnerable. So some Iranian strategists likely see deterrence value in nukes. If Iran does get a bomb, it would dramatically shift Middle East calculations – a true MAD situation could emerge between Iran and Israel (and possibly Saudi Arabia if it also pursues nukes). Would MAD deter Iran and Israel from ever using those weapons? Probably, but with much less communication and trust than existed between the U.S. and USSR. The risk of miscalculation or ideological zeal is non-negligible. At present, Iranian politicians vehemently deny wanting nukes, so they naturally insist nuclear war is not on the table. But the concern from others (as voiced by Israeli and Western officials) is that Iran’s leaders might be more willing to take catastrophic risks. This remains speculation – one can point to Iran’s avoidance of direct big wars over the last decades as evidence of rational caution. Indeed, Iran mostly engages in proxy conflicts precisely to avoid direct confrontation with stronger foes. This suggests if Iran had nukes, it would likely treat them as deterrents to safeguard the regime and fend off attack, rather than immediately brandishing or using them. Still, the mere introduction of another nuclear-armed state in a tense region would test MAD’s power to prevent war. The hope is that, as elsewhere, the fear of mutual destruction would impose restraint on all sides.

In reviewing these perspectives, one pattern is clear: the core logic of MAD – fear of devastating retaliation – still influences all these actors, albeit to varying degrees. In the U.S., Russia, China, India, Israel (the more status-quo powers), nuclear weapons are chiefly seen as tools to prevent war. In Pakistan, North Korea (and potentially a future nuclear Iran), there’s a bit more emphasis on nuclear weapons as tools to win or at least survive a war that might otherwise be lost – which indicates a slightly higher tolerance for thinking about actual use. But even those states ultimately share the understanding that if they overuse or go too far, they will suffer grievously. This underlying self-preservation instinct is what MAD rests on, and it appears to still be operative.

Conclusion: MAD in the Modern Era – Enduring Deterrent or Diminishing Returns?

So, is Mutually Assured Destruction still a deterrent to nuclear war? The evidence suggests that yes, in large part it is – but not automatically, and not in all minds. The fundamental deterrent effect that prevented U.S.-Soviet nuclear war remains in force among the great powers and most rational actors. No nation truly wants to commit suicide by initiating a full-scale nuclear exchange, and this fear constrains their actions. Even in moments of high tension – whether the current war in Ukraine, standoffs in the Taiwan Strait, or past crises in South Asia – the invisible hand of MAD has helped pull leaders back from the brink.

However, there are worrying signs that the spell of MAD is not as absolute as it once seemed. People’s attitudes have shifted since the Cold War: some publics have grown complacent, underestimating the risk, while others (exposed to war rhetoric) have become desensitized to nuclear threats[82]. In parallel, military doctrines in some states have evolved to incorporate notions of limited nuclear use, chipping away at the idea that any nuclear war inevitably means total war. The fact that a Russian official could say “if deterrence is dead, then the concept of mutually assured destruction is obsolete”[83]reflects a strain of thought that the old balance may not hold against new challenges – and that alternative strategies (like missile defences or tactical nukes) must be considered. So far, these remain minority views. But they indicate that deterrence can never be taken for granted; it must be actively maintained by clear signalling and prudent policy.

Importantly, the nuclear taboo – the moral and normative barrier – still stands, albeit under pressure. The global outrage at Russia’s nuclear threats in 2022 and the united declarations against nuclear use[84] reaffirm that most of the world wants to keep nuclear weapons only as a silent deterrent, never to be exploded in anger again. Politically, crossing that line would make a nation an international pariah. This adds a layer of restraint beyond pure self-interest. As long as that holds, MAD is bolstered by not just fear, but by universal stigma.

Going forward, maintaining MAD as a credible deterrent will require addressing new challenges: the spread of nuclear capabilities to more actors (with diverse mindsets), emerging technologies like cyber (which could interfere with command-and-control), and geopolitical rivalries that tempt nuclear brinkmanship. It will also require educating new generations about the real horrors of nuclear war – why it must be avoided – so that complacency does not lead to misjudgement. Public opinion can shape leaders’ decisions: if people are apathetic, leaders might take greater risks; conversely, if people voice that any nuclear use is unacceptable, it reinforces leaders’ caution.

In conclusion, Mutually Assured Destruction is still a cornerstone deterrent against nuclear war, but it is not foolproof or static. It operates in the background of international relations, largely successful in preventing direct great-power war for 80 years. Yet, as one expert put it, nuclear deterrence can be “flawed” and is ultimately a human construct that depends on the perceptions and decisions of fallible leaders[86]. If those leaders are irrational, misinformed, or pushed into a corner, MAD alone might not stop them. The world has been fortunate that, so far, whenever tempers flared, caution prevailed – as cooler heads remembered that no one wins in a nuclear exchange[88]. Whether MAD continues to deter in the future may hinge on reinforcing the lessons of the past (the devastation that nuclear war would unleash) and extending deterrence to new domains and actors without eroding its credibility. In a sense, MAD is as much a psychological deterrent as a physical one; the moment any actor stops believing in mutual destruction, the deterrent power diminishes.

For now, the prospect of instant annihilation does still keep nuclear arsenals mostly sheathed. People may debate strategies and display varying levels of fear or apathy, but the sobering reality is that nuclear war truly is “the unthinkable” – and that collective understanding remains humanity’s best defence. Maintaining that understanding across all levels of society – civilian, military, and political – is crucial. In the end, the old paradox holds: the only thing worse than believing in Mutually Assured Destruction is if anyone stops believing in it. As of 2025, MAD endures as a deterrent, albeit one we must not become too complacent about. The world’s long nuclear peace has been maintained by vigilance, communication, and yes, fear. Whether that peace continues may depend on remembering that no matter the differences between nations, on the day nuclear weapons fly, we all lose.