Amid today’s unsettled global atmosphere, anxiety about the possibility of war has quietly taken root in everyday life. It is not always expressed openly, yet it lingers beneath the surface of public conversation, shaping how people interpret the news and the actions of world leaders. Political instability, military posturing, and sharp rhetoric between nations have created a sense that peace is more fragile than many once believed. In the United States, this unease has been sharpened by the contrast between campaign messaging that promised restraint abroad and a series of international developments that appear anything but calming. While many hoped that a focus on avoiding foreign entanglements would reduce global risk, recent years have instead felt marked by unpredictability. The result is a growing sense that long-standing assumptions about stability can no longer be taken for granted, and that the world may be operating closer to the edge than it appears on the surface.

This sense of uncertainty has been fueled in part by highly visible geopolitical actions and statements that have unsettled allies and adversaries alike. Moves involving Venezuela, escalating language directed at Iran, and repeated assertions about acquiring Greenland have all contributed to the impression of a world order under strain. To some observers, these actions signal strategic maneuvering; to others, they appear impulsive and destabilizing. What makes them particularly concerning is the broader context in which they occur: alliances that feel increasingly strained, diplomatic norms that seem less respected, and a global landscape shaped by competition for influence and dominance. Even when conflict does not immediately follow such actions, they add to a cumulative sense of volatility. Over time, this atmosphere has encouraged people to imagine worst-case scenarios that once felt remote, transforming abstract fears about global conflict into more immediate and personal concerns.

At the center of these worries lies the specter of a third world war, a conflict whose scale and destructive potential would dwarf anything humanity has previously endured. Optimists point to deterrence theory, international treaties, and the shared understanding among nuclear powers that total war would be catastrophic for all involved. They argue that rational self-interest, combined with decades of precedent, acts as a powerful brake on escalation. Yet more cautious voices counter that recent history offers little comfort. They note that miscalculations, miscommunications, and personal rivalries have triggered devastating conflicts before, even when leaders believed they had matters under control. In a world armed with thousands of nuclear weapons, the margin for error is vanishingly small. The fear is not necessarily that leaders seek total destruction, but that a chain of events—driven by pride, fear, or political pressure—could spiral beyond anyone’s ability to contain it.

These concerns have been further sharpened by discussions from experts who study nuclear history and strategy. Alex Wellerstein, a nuclear historian at the Stevens Institute of Technology, has explained that in the event of a nuclear conflict, targets would depend heavily on the attacker’s objectives. If a major power such as Russia sought to cripple the United States’ ability to respond, it would likely focus on command centers, missile silos, and bases tied to nuclear forces. A different kind of adversary, driven more by symbolism or terror than strategy, might instead aim for densely populated cities or iconic locations. This distinction has unsettling implications, because it places not only famous metropolitan areas at risk, but also smaller, lesser-known cities whose importance lies in what they host rather than how many people live there. For residents of such places, the realization that their hometown could be a strategic target can feel deeply jarring.

Several small and mid-sized American cities emerge repeatedly in these assessments due to their proximity to critical military infrastructure. Great Falls, Montana, for example, has a relatively modest population, yet its closeness to Malmstrom Air Force Base—home to hundreds of intercontinental ballistic missile silos—gives it outsized strategic significance. Cheyenne, Wyoming, finds itself in a similar position because of Francis E. Warren Air Force Base, another key node in the nation’s nuclear command and control network. In Utah, communities such as Ogden and Clearfield sit near Hill Air Force Base, an essential facility for nuclear weapons operations. Though these cities rarely feature in global headlines, their locations near vital military assets make them potential focal points in a worst-case scenario. In the South, Shreveport’s proximity to Barksdale Air Force Base, where B-52 bombers capable of carrying nuclear weapons are stationed, places surrounding civilian populations at grave risk should the base ever be targeted.

Larger cities and well-known centers of power also remain firmly on lists of potential targets, underscoring how widespread the consequences of nuclear conflict would be. Honolulu’s strategic value stems from its concentration of naval and air forces in the Pacific, a reality shaped by history and reinforced by current military planning. Omaha’s closeness to Offutt Air Force Base, a central hub for nuclear command operations, and Colorado Springs’ role as home to NORAD further highlight how deeply embedded nuclear infrastructure is within civilian landscapes. In addition, cities such as Washington, D.C., Seattle, San Francisco, Houston, Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York City are often cited not only for their military or governmental importance, but for their economic, cultural, and symbolic weight. The destruction of any one of them would send shockwaves far beyond national borders. While none of this means that catastrophe is inevitable, the very fact that such scenarios are being openly discussed reflects a broader unease about the state of international relations and humanity’s ability to manage its most destructive capabilities.