Now drones will upend the modern military order; Ukraine has opened the door to the future of warfare, and Western leaders must capitalise on this momentum
Garry Kasparov
8 July 2026
I wrote this year about how the war in Ukraine has fundamentally reshaped the nature of modern warfare. The Ukrainians have proved that resourcefulness, imagination, and technical skill go far further than sheer might, be it military or financial. They have revolutionised drone warfare, holding their own, and even now shifting the tide, against an opponent with plenty of heavy-duty tanks and missiles (thanks in part to an ongoing supply from its authoritarian partners worldwide, especially China).
The shift to hybrid warfare, out of the trenches and into the sky and cyberspace, has been ongoing for decades. But the war in Ukraine has crystallised these changes, ushering in a new military era. (The resurgence in 2020 of a decades-long conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan, over the Nagorno-Karabakh region, provided an early glimpse of the impending transition; Azerbaijan used Turkish-made drones to astounding effect to retake control of the territory.)
In the new military age we are entering, countries with the largest military budgets will no longer have the overwhelming advantage on the battlefield; instead, it will be those who can stay ahead of technological breakthroughs that will come out on top.
The implications of these changes go beyond military confrontation itself; they will ripple into every segment of society. Military infrastructure has historically always been the primary mode of maintaining political power. Methods of warfare determine how militaries are structured, which in turn dictates where money is spent to procure needed supplies, and where qualified soldiers are recruited.
The feudal system of the Middle Ages, with its elaborate hierarchy of nobility, serves as an example. While land ownership and divine authority were the superficial justifications for the rankings, knights were the binding glue of the system, receiving their estates in exchange for military service. What good is the claim to a parcel of land if it can’t be defended? Knights were the linchpin around which the entire network of fiefdoms was sustained. From the king to the dukes, earls, barons, and all the way down, all leaned on the knight to protect their power from the serfs, who far outnumbered them.
It was the introduction of gunpowder that ultimately led to the demise of the medieval structure. While gunpowder was first used on the continent over a century before the feudal hierarchy began to collapse, its increasingly widespread use made the institution of knighthood obsolete. There was no longer a need for knights, ready to enter valiantly into hand-to-hand combat, when infantries of peasants outfitted with firearms could do the job more efficiently at a distance.
That’s not to say that other changes didn’t contribute. The printing press, by introducing the easy dissemination of printed materials, certainly played a role in the diffusion of the concentrated nobility. But once again, access to information matters when it comes to determining social structure mainly because of the threat of uprising it poses to elites. A well-informed populace is more difficult to defend against than one kept in ignorance.
Today we are experiencing no less than the seismic shift that marked the end of the medieval period. The details may look different, but the high-level formula remains the same, as it has throughout history: a paradigmatic change in warfare in turn radically transforms politics, industry, and culture.
The age of warfare now coming to an end – and its corresponding societal architecture – is rooted in innovations of the 1980s and 1990s. This was a period in which the major breakthroughs that power today’s largest militaries took place, from stealth aviation to precision-guided munitions. They were revolutionary at the time, but, as with any inventions, they are steadily being replaced by newer ones better suited for present-day needs.
When full-blown war erupted in Ukraine in 2022, the previous wave of weaponry was still, arguably, first in class. Ukraine was heavily dependent on the US and Europe to supply the munitions it needed to keep up its fight (and it still is; change never happens overnight, but its self-reliance has grown exponentially).
Just four years later, the situation on the ground has changed dramatically. While Ukraine’s initial resistance against the Russian onslaught was sheer heroism, its ability to shift the momentum over time has been the result of innovation. Conventional wisdom held that Ukraine stood no chance in a long war of attrition.
Instead, the Ukrainians have used that time to come up with new methods of attack. They rode the current of change that was already taking place, from a world order based on strength, to one that rewards adaptability and ingenuity. In some ways this shift is not so dissimilar to that from the fiefdoms of the Middle Ages to the absolute monarchies of Renaissance Europe. The knight in shining armour was starting to look clunky in light of the latest technical developments. Nato’s armoured vehicles looked similarly ridiculous in recent wargames carried out by the alliance, in which Ukrainian drones successfully neutralised entire battalions in mere hours.
I don’t know exactly what these changes will look like yet, in part because the world’s largest powers have been so resistant to embrace them. America can only remain the globe’s superpower if it starts using its resources and talent wisely, in concert with the latest developments rather than in a grinding bid to hold on to the past. So far, however, there has been no strategic reallocation of its military budget.
If and when such changes do occur, the implications will be enormous. Defence spending makes up the largest chunk of the budget, and financial titans ranging from Lockheed Martin to Hewlett-Packard all reap the rewards. If this money is redirected, the economic changes will be vast, if unpredictable; it’s nearly impossible to predict how shifts of this magnitude will play out because there are too many variables at play in a system as complex. But, suffice to say, they will be generationally defining.
Think also about how social roles could evolve. US defence secretary Pete Hegseth’s and health secretary Robert Kennedy Jr.’s physical fitness push-up challengeto make America strong is a stunt stuck in the past. It crudely equates military prowess with physical strength. It’s no longer about how many reps you can do in 10 minutes. There are over 60,000 women enlisted in Ukraine’s army, playing a crucial role in safeguarding their country – not from the sidelines, supporting businesses and families while the men are away at war, but on the new frontlines themselves.
And Hegseth is not the only one stuck in the past. As has unfortunately been the case for the duration of this war, Europe and America seem to be vying for hegemon of global irrelevance. The head of German weapons giant Rheinmetall recently described Ukraine’s drones as looking like they could be manufactured by Ukrainian housewives at home with 3D printers. While the dripping condescension should be embarrassment enough, the comment is also painfully out of step for the head of a massive corporation, who should be at the cutting edge of global trends.
This failure to appreciate what is happening is not just pitiful; it’s dangerous. If Europe and America don’t want to get left behind, they must wake up to the gravity of these changes now.
Ukraine has opened the door to the future of warfare, and the rest of modern life. The shape of the next global order is up to those who can capitalise on this momentum. I hope it will be the leaders of the West who take up the challenge, and not the enemies of freedom and democracy.
Garry Kasparov is a campaigner for democracy in Russia. He is a chess grandmaster who was ranked the world’s number one player for a record 255 months