When War Turns Against Nature: The Hidden Cost of Conflict

— A Conversation with Lieutenant Abu Rushd

War is usually discussed through the language of strategy, alliances, and casualties. Maps are drawn with arrows showing advancing forces, and analysts debate political outcomes and military victories. Yet beneath these visible layers of conflict lies a quieter and often ignored battlefield, the environment itself. According to Lieutenant Abu Rushd, war is not merely a struggle between opposing armies or political systems. It is, at its core, an assault on the natural balance that sustains human life.

Lieutenant Rushd describes war as fundamentally “anti-nature.” In his view, the Earth operates through a delicate balance of air, water, soil, and living systems that support civilization. Human survival depends on this balance: oxygen produced by forests, water filtered through natural cycles, and soil capable of producing crops. When war begins, that balance is systematically dismantled. Explosions, chemical residues, destroyed infrastructure, and massive population displacement disrupt ecosystems in ways that can persist for decades or even generations.

Historical conflicts illustrate this phenomenon clearly. During the Second World War, millions of tons of explosives were dropped across continents. The immediate devastation of cities and landscapes was visible, but the long-term environmental consequences were less understood at the time. Bombs altered soil chemistry, contaminated waterways, and introduced toxic residues that lingered for years. The atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki revealed an even more disturbing dimension. Radiation did not remain confined to the moment of explosion. It spread through the environment and affected human health for generations, demonstrating how warfare can imprint itself onto both ecosystems and human genetics.

Lieutenant Rushd’s understanding of this “anti-nature” dynamic deepened during his experiences in Africa. In Sierra Leone in 2002, he witnessed how even relatively low-technology civil wars could devastate the environment. The country’s landscape rich with vegetation, hills, and fertile ground became a target in the conflict. Armed factions frequently destroyed infrastructure not merely to defeat an enemy but to deny them the possibility of rebuilding. Mines rich in iron, copper, and diamonds were blown apart with explosives, releasing heavy metals and toxic substances into groundwater. Dense forests were burned or cut down in attempts to expose guerrilla fighters hiding in the jungle.

As the war continued, a destructive feedback loop emerged between environmental collapse and human suffering. With infrastructure destroyed, electricity, clean water systems, and sanitation disappeared. Large numbers of people were displaced, often forced to live in overcrowded conditions without adequate hygiene. Skin diseases spread rapidly, and contaminated soil made agriculture increasingly difficult. In this way, environmental damage did not remain an abstract ecological issue it translated directly into worsening health and economic hardship for civilians.

A similar pattern appeared during Lieutenant Rushd’s time in South Sudan in 2007, though the environmental context was very different. The region’s landscape is more arid, with sparse vegetation and limited water sources. In such an environment, water itself becomes the most critical resource. Destroying a well or poisoning a small pond can effectively eliminate an entire community’s ability to survive. Rushd recalls how rival forces would deliberately target these scarce water supplies. In a desert climate, the loss of water quickly leads to the death of vegetation and livestock, forcing villagers to abandon their homes and become refugees. Here, the weaponization of nature becomes direct and devastating: destroying the environment means destroying the possibility of human life.

Modern warfare, despite its advanced technology, has not eliminated these environmental consequences. In fact, Lieutenant Rushd argues that contemporary “precision warfare” may simply concentrate destruction rather than reduce it. Precision-guided munitions can strike specific targets, but the explosives and chemicals involved still produce lasting pollution. The Gulf War of 1991 offers a powerful example. As Iraqi forces retreated from Kuwait, they set hundreds of oil wells ablaze. The fires burned for months, sending vast clouds of carbon and sulfur into the atmosphere and temporarily altering the region’s climate.

Today’s strategic bombers and bunker-busting munitions carry enormous explosive payloads designed to penetrate deeply into fortified structures. When these weapons detonate in mountainous or densely populated regions, their environmental impact unfolds across several dimensions. Toxic particulates spread through the air, contaminating the atmosphere. Chemical residues seep into the soil, potentially entering the food chain. Bombing infrastructure often destroys water filtration and sewage systems, allowing pollution to flow into rivers and groundwater supplies. Even a precisely targeted strike can trigger cascading environmental damage.

Naval warfare introduces another hidden ecological cost. When warships or tankers sink, they do not simply disappear beneath the waves. Each vessel carries large quantities of fuel oil, lubricants, and ammunition. Over time, these substances leak into the surrounding waters, contaminating marine ecosystems. In heavily trafficked areas such as the Gulf of Oman or the Strait of Hormuz, the sinking of multiple vessels could result in persistent oil pollution affecting fisheries, desalination plants, and coastal habitats for years. Recovering large sunken ships from deep waters is extraordinarily difficult, meaning that the environmental consequences may continue long after the conflict itself has ended.

Beyond ecological destruction, warfare also triggers global economic consequences that reach far beyond the battlefield. Much of the world’s oil and liquefied natural gas flows through the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow maritime corridor linking the Persian Gulf to global markets. Any disruption in this route immediately affects energy prices and supply chains. Countries heavily dependent on imported energy are particularly vulnerable.

Bangladesh is one such nation. Its growing economy relies on imported fuel, including liquefied natural gas shipments from Middle Eastern suppliers such as Qatar and Oman. Unlike some larger economies, Bangladesh maintains relatively limited strategic fuel reserves. If shipping routes were disrupted or prices rose dramatically, the country could face serious energy shortages affecting transportation, electricity production, and industrial output. In a globalized world, even distant conflicts can rapidly translate into domestic economic stress.

Lieutenant Rushd believes that modern geopolitical tensions may be especially dangerous because some states perceive themselves to be in existential situations. When a country believes it cannot win a conventional military contest, it may attempt to impose costs on the global system itself. Targeting oil infrastructure or major energy facilities could create widespread economic disruption, forcing international actors to pressure combatants toward a ceasefire. Such strategies reveal how modern warfare increasingly blends into military, economic, and environmental dimensions.

For Lieutenant Rushd, the central lesson is straightforward but often ignored. War should not be viewed solely as a human conflict fought with weapons and armies. It is also a profound disturbance of the natural systems that support life. Rivers become polluted, forests vanish, soils are poisoned, and oceans accumulate oil and chemical waste. These effects linger long after ceasefires are signed and treaties are negotiated.

Many people living far from conflict zones may feel insulated from these realities. Yet environmental damage does not remain confined within borders. Polluted rivers flow across regions, atmospheric contamination spreads through weather systems, and economic shocks ripple through global markets. Refugees displaced by environmental destruction often move across continents, carrying with them the human consequences of ecological collapse.

In this sense, the “Anti-Nature Theory” offers a stark warning. When warfare destroys the environment, it also erodes the foundations of human civilization. The forests, water systems, and fertile soils that sustain societies cannot easily be restored once they are damaged. The cost of war therefore extends far beyond the battlefield, reaching into the health of ecosystems and the future of generations yet to come.

War, in Lieutenant Rushd’s view, is the ultimate pollutant. Its legacy is written not only in ruined cities but in poisoned rivers, scarred landscapes, and disrupted climates. The destruction of nature ultimately becomes the destruction of human possibility itself. Humanity may debate politics and ideology endlessly, but it cannot escape a simple ecological truth: when the Earth is wounded, every society eventually feels the pain.

Interviewer Bio: Lieutenant Abu Rushd is a veteran military analyst and Editor-in-Chief of Bangladesh Defence Journal, bringing decades of expertise in regional security and strategic affairs. A former military officer with extensive experience in UN peacekeeping missions, he is a prominent commentator on the intersection of modern warfare, geopolitics, and environmental security.