In the days after Russia invaded Ukraine, I found myself staying up late every night, glued to social media. I’d lie in bed scrolling until two or three in the morning, watching video after video: apartment blocks crumbling under shellfire, missiles destroying innocent people’s homes.
The horror was relentless, and so was the urge to witness it. I felt this mix of sadness and disbelief, and underneath it all, a rising sense of unease. If it could happen there, why couldn’t it happen somewhere else?
That question has been lingering again lately. In recent weeks, former military chiefs have begun warning that Europe must prepare for the possibility of conflict, not abstractly, but practically. Defence spending is on the rise. There are discussions about teenagers taking military gap years, and schools could soon be rolling out lessons on resilience and national defence. On Friday, former White House defence adviser and co-author of the UK’s Strategic Defence Review, Fiona Hill, warned that Britain is already at war with Russia.
The tone has shifted. This no longer feels like a remote risk, but something inching closer to home.
And so I’ve started thinking more seriously about war. What would I do? How would I respond if the UK or Ireland came under threat? Am I even remotely prepared – practically, mentally, emotionally – for something like that?
I’m 27, and I don’t think most people my age, especially those of us from relatively stable democratic societies, ever imagine what it might mean to live through war. One recent poll suggested only 11 per cent of British Gen Zers would fight for their country, and whenever the idea of conscription is raised, Gen Z, of which I am part, is often derided as being too self-absorbed and soft for its own good. Major-General Chip Chapman, for instance, said last year that Gen Z is “easily offended” and “lacks motivation”.
Sentiments I strongly disagree with. Certainly, we’ve grown up in a globalised world, with free movement, economic integration, and international courts. There’s been an assumption, almost a comfort, that things will hold.
But that’s no longer something we can assume. Populism is rising. Authoritarian regimes are becoming bolder. Misinformation is rife. And while we in the West still live relatively untouched by the worst of it, the fault lines are becoming harder to ignore.
square ROSE O'SULLIVAN British vilification of Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, has reached parody
Read More
I’m Irish, and I was raised with a deeply ingrained respect for Ireland’s neutrality. It’s a foundational idea in our national identity – staying out of military alliances, avoiding entanglements, promoting diplomacy. But even that has started to feel less certain. There have been growing calls to reassess Ireland’s position. Analysts argue that our neutrality leaves a strategic gap in European defence. Some say joining Nato could reduce our vulnerability. Others suggest it could even pave the way for unification with Northern Ireland.
These are huge political questions, but they’ve also prompted more personal ones for me. What does it mean to belong to a democracy? What responsibilities come with that? And if it came to it – if the safety of our way of life were genuinely under threat – what would I be willing to do?
I’m not someone naturally inclined toward combat. I’m a pacifist by instinct. However, I’ve found myself quietly researching how the Army Reserve works. Would I be morally obliged to join up? What would I need in a crisis? How long would I last without power, without access to food or cash? Do I even have a first-aid kit in the house?
The answer to that last question, embarrassingly, is no.
But, now, I don’t think being prepared is paranoid. I think it’s realistic. And that applies to our minds as much as our cupboards. If war were to come to the UK or Ireland, I don’t know what I’d be expected to do. But I do know I’d want to do something. I would return to Ireland if needed. Not just to be with my family, but because I think there’s a fundamental responsibility to protect the country that raised you, not out of nationalism, but out of care.
Yet as an Irish person living in London, I’ve benefited hugely from being part of the UK. If the country I live in came under threat, would I not feel duty-bound to defend it too? I will continue to mull that one over, at part for the fear of social suicide at home, and – God forbid – being labelled as a “west Brit”.
These are big, uncomfortable thoughts. But I think they’re necessary. Because what’s at stake isn’t just national security or borders. It’s the everyday freedoms we take for granted – the right to speak freely, to vote, to live safely, to love who we want, to walk down the street without fear. Gen Z understands these ideas as well as any generation, and is used to standing up for them.
It’s easy to romanticise war from afar. We all carry fragments of stories – about courage, resistance, victory. But war is not romantic. It’s ugly and unjust. And still, when the worst happens, people show up for each other. People defend what matters. People decide that even if they never imagined themselves in that role, they will take it on.
I’m not calling for panic. But I am calling for reflection. If we believe in democracy, we can’t just be passive beneficiaries of it. We have to be willing, at the very least, to ask what it would mean to protect it.
And I think, quietly, many of us have started doing just that.
Read More Details
Finally We wish PressBee provided you with enough information of ( Gen Zers are preparing for war – should I join the Army Reserve? )
Also on site :
- Today’s NYT ‘Strands’ Hints, Spangram and Answers for Monday, June 9
- Israel blocks Greta Thunberg’s ship from reaching Gaza, group says
- Original ‘Hamilton’ Cast Member Reveals What Entire Cast Was Saying at the Reunion (Exclusive)