Territorial conquest is no longer a viable means of achieving political ends. What replaces it?

The world urgently needs clarity on a fundamental question: What is the purpose of war in the 21st century? Much of contemporary military thinking continues to be shaped by assumptions that are no longer valid. Chief among them is the belief that territorial conquest remains central to achieving political objectives. A closer examination of history — and of present technological and economic realities — suggests that this assumption is outdated.

Before the emergence of sovereign nation-states, a process that began with the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648, the purpose of war was often ill-defined and driven as much by personal ambition as by state interest. The record of three of history’s most celebrated military figures — Alexander, Genghis Khan and Napoleon — illustrates this point.

Alexander “conquered” most of the known world, yet his legacy raises more questions than answers. His empire did not endure, and his campaigns were financed largely through the looting of the Persian treasury and the minting of coins from captured gold and silver. Such methods are clearly infeasible today. Nor can the spread of culture — often attributed to Alexander — be meaningfully achieved through military force.

Genghis Khan established the largest contiguous land empire in history. Yet his legacy, beyond altering the ethnic composition of vast regions through coercive practices, is limited in terms of durable statecraft or economic prosperity. Modern Mongolia remains a relatively poor country, underscoring the tenuous connection between territorial expansion and long-term national wealth.

Napoleon, often credited with pioneering modern warfare through the use of maps and general staff systems, also presents a paradox. His invasion of Russia — resulting in the loss of approximately 550,000 troops — defies rational explanation in terms of strategic purpose. While the Napoleonic Code endures as a legal legacy, his territorial conquests did not translate into lasting geopolitical advantage. In contrast, Great Britain, with roughly half the population and GDP of France in 1750, emerged as the global hegemon by 1900.

A notable example of territorial conquest yielding substantial economic gain is the British colonisation of India. Over two centuries, this resulted in an estimated transfer of wealth amounting to trillions of dollars in today’s terms. Crucially, however, this extraction was not based on battlefield looting but on financial systems, institutions and trade mechanisms. This stands in stark contrast to earlier forms of plunder, such as Nadir Shah’s removal of the Peacock Throne. Even here, the lesson is not about territory per se, but about control of economic systems.

With the consolidation of nation-states, war began to exhibit a clearer logic: To alter the behaviour of an adversary threatening vital national interests. Traditionally, this was achieved through territorial conquest — capturing the enemy’s capital and dictating terms of peace. The Indian Army’s capture of Dhaka in 1971, followed by the Shimla Agreement in 1972, is a classic example of this model.

However, by 2025, the viability of achieving political objectives through territorial occupation has come into serious doubt. Two factors are decisive. First, the risk of escalation to nuclear conflict imposes severe limits on the extent of territorial aggression. Second, technological change has transformed the character of warfare. Mass is no longer decisive; instead, transparency, speed of reaction, precision in targeting, and resilience have become critical.

These changes directly affect the survivability of the human soldier. The ongoing war in Ukraine, with Russian casualties estimated at 1.4 million, demonstrates the prohibitive cost of holding territory through “boots on the ground”. In an era of pervasive surveillance and precision strikes, the traditional model of occupation is increasingly untenable. While future technological developments may alter this dynamic, the present trend is unmistakable.

If territorial conquest is no longer a viable means of achieving political ends, what replaces it? The answer lies in identifying and targeting the true vulnerabilities of modern states. These are no longer primarily geographic, but systemic. Digital networks, AI-enabled targeting systems, energy corridors, supply chains, critical minerals, satellite constellations, undersea cables, data centres, semiconductor fabrication facilities, payment systems, fuel infrastructure, power grids and water systems — all constitute the new terrain of conflict.

In an interconnected global economy, states cannot ignore the well-being of large technology firms that may account for a quarter of national GDP. Similarly, the destabilisation of global financial systems — whether through a run on US Treasury bonds or actions targeting tax havens — can have far-reaching consequences that rival or exceed those of military campaigns.

Economic coercion has already emerged as a primary instrument of statecraft. Sanctions imposed on Iran over 15 years are estimated to have resulted in losses of $1.2 trillion — approximately four times its GDP. These measures also triggered significant emigration of skilled and wealthy individuals and sustained capital flight. Such outcomes demonstrate that economic tools can achieve effects comparable to, or greater than, traditional warfare.

At the same time, the global financial system itself is becoming a domain of contestation. The collapse of the world economy in the 1930s, driven in part by the weakening of the pound sterling after World War I, serves as a historical warning. Today, US Treasury securities function as the global safe haven — even for strategic competitors like China — yet they are increasingly subject to geopolitical pressures.

In this context, the question arises: Can states realistically pursue territorial conquest when the resulting economic sanctions could devastate their own populations? The answer is increasingly negative. Yet some states continue to prioritise territorial threats. India, for instance, deploys over a million personnel to defend its borders against Pakistan and China. While these concerns are not trivial, they must be weighed against broader strategic realities.

Pakistan’s economy is smaller than that of a single Indian state such as Tamil Nadu, while China’s long-term objectives lie not in minor border adjustments but in achieving dominance across Eurasia through trade, finance, infrastructure, technology, supply chains and space-based capabilities. In such a framework, territorial disputes appear increasingly marginal.

The logic of war is changing. Territorial conquest, once central to military strategy, is becoming obsolete for modern states. The future of conflict lies not in the capture of land, but in the disruption of systems. Recognising this shift is essential — not only for military planners, but for policymakers seeking to navigate an increasingly complex and interconnected world.

Menon is a retired rear admiral and author of The Long View from Delhi