The U.S. Is Reviving Its "Ghost" Bases in the Pacific for the War Against China

Palau, the Island Fortress Rising Again

The Peleliu airstrip in Palau perfectly embodies this resurrection of the military ghosts of the Pacific. This historic World War II airstrip was captured by the Marines in September 1944 during the bloody Battle of Peleliu, one of the deadliest in the Pacific theater, with more than 2,000 American and over 10,000 Japanese soldiers killed. In June 2024, the Marine Corps recertified this historic runway following a rehabilitation effort led by the Marine Corps Engineering Detachment in Palau (MCED-P) 24.1, composed of engineers from the 7th Engineer Support Battalion, 1st Marine Logistics Group. On June 22, 2024, a KC-130J Super Hercules refueling aircraft from the 1st Marine Air Wing landed on the newly designated runway, marking the first landing of a military fixed-wing aircraft since its recertification. The runway was named in honor of Eugene Sledge, a private first class in the 1st Marine Division during the Battle of Peleliu, whose war memoirs inspired the acclaimed television series “The Pacific.” Major Christopher Romero, commander of MCED-P 24.1, emphasized the strategic importance of this operation: “Today is a historic moment as we land a Marine Corps aircraft on ‘Sledge’ Runway. This remarkable achievement demonstrates the strategic importance of our mission and our dedication to regional stability and security.”

Peleliu’s exceptional strategic location explains U.S. military interest in this small but historically crucial island. Located approximately 1,400 miles from Okinawa, Japan—where the majority of the Marine Corps’ forces in the Pacific are based—and less than 1,000 miles from the Philippines, the United States’ primary partner in the region, Peleliu offers an ideal forward position for projecting U.S. air power toward the Taiwan Strait and the South China Sea. The airstrip is currently being rehabilitated, and options for permanent housing for Marine units are also being explored. The Marine Corps is also considering a prepositioning site in Palau to support its Force Design 2030 effort, a comprehensive restructuring program aimed at adapting the Marines for high-intensity conflicts against adversaries such as China. This growing presence in Palau mirrors the one developing in the Philippines, reflecting a U.S. strategy to create a network of forward-deployed and dispersed bases capable of supporting operations throughout the first island chain, which constitutes the first line of defense against Chinese expansion. Other ongoing projects in Palau include the construction of a mobile over-the-horizon tactical radar that will be used to supplement existing sensors designed to detect Chinese ballistic missiles approaching the second island chain, demonstrating that investment in this island is not limited to a simple airstrip but encompasses an entire detection and command infrastructure.

The Battle of Peleliu remains one of the most horrific battles of the Pacific War—a completely pointless bloodbath, according to many military historians, since the Philippines were invaded almost immediately afterward, rendering Peleliu strategically obsolete. More than two thousand Americans and ten thousand Japanese died for this patch of coral land—for nothing, really. And today, seventy years later, we are once again turning this same blood-stained patch of land into a military base, a foothold for another potential war. There is something repugnant about treating places of remembrance as mere tactical terrain, as if the blood shed had no moral significance, as if the lessons of history counted for nothing in the face of military strategy. The ghosts of Peleliu must be screaming with rage in their graves.

The Philippines: An Archipelago Under Strain

The four Philippine air bases—Mactan-Benito Ebuen, Clark Air Base, Subic Bay International Airport, and Basa Air Base—are all undergoing expansion to accommodate additional aircraft and the associated logistics required to operate refueling aircraft and fighter jets in the first island chain. The Air Force Sustainment Center’s GENUS (Global Enterprise Network for Universal Sustainment) program has identified these four Philippine airfields as candidates to host support and logistics units that would be deployed across the Pacific during a war against China to restore combat-damaged aircraft to combat readiness. GENUS is also in negotiations with the governments of India, Singapore, and Japan to establish additional repair facilities, thereby creating a distributed maintenance network capable of supporting prolonged operations throughout the Indo-Pacific. The Philippines, with its strategic geographic location at the heart of the South China Sea and its immediate proximity to Taiwan, plays a crucial role in U.S. plans to contain China, despite historical tensions between Manila and Washington over U.S. military bases that were closed in 1991 following the eruption of Mount Pinatubo and pressure from Filipino nationalists.

The expansion of the U.S. military presence in the Philippines has accelerated significantly since the Marcos administration took office, which has substantially reversed the policy of its predecessor, Rodrigo Duterte, who sought closer ties with China. In 2023, the United States and the Philippines announced access to four new Philippine military bases under the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA), bringing the total number of sites accessible to U.S. forces to nine. These additional bases include strategic sites in northern Luzon, facing Taiwan, as well as in the southwestern province of Palawan, near the disputed islands in the South China Sea. The expansion of air infrastructure is part of this broader context of U.S. military reengagement in the Philippines, reflecting Washington’s recognition that Manila is one of its most crucial allies in containing Chinese maritime expansionism and deterring any attempt to invade Taiwan. Chinese forces, for their part, have intensified their patrols in disputed maritime areas and their provocations against the Philippine coast guard and fishing vessels, creating a cycle of escalation that makes a conflict increasingly likely—one in which the Philippines would serve as the front line of defense and a forward operating base for U.S. forces.

The Philippines now finds itself in the most uncomfortable position imaginable, caught between two giants vying for its maritime space and political allegiance. After years of attempting to build closer ties with Beijing under Duterte, Manila has abruptly changed course to align more closely with Washington, becoming a key component of U.S. efforts to contain China. This is a dangerous gamble that exposes the archipelago to the direct risk of a Sino-American conflict, without offering any guarantee of real protection in the event of an escalation. The Philippines are becoming the ultimate training ground for a war that could destroy them, with their infrastructure transformed into military bases and their airports into launch pads for offensive missions. And all of this is being done in the name of “defending sovereignty,” even though that very sovereignty is precisely what is being sacrificed on the altar of military alliances.

Alaska, the Ultimate Northern Bulwark

Ongoing work at several airfields along Alaska’s northern corridor is preparing these facilities for operational use as Agile Combat Employment bases. Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, a major hub for Pacific Air Forces, is extending its second runway from 2,900 feet to 10,000 feet, enabling it to accommodate any operational aircraft regardless of weather conditions. The $309 million project will also construct parallel taxiways and add an arming and disarming area to the base. This expansion is crucial for enabling Elmendorf to serve as a true hub for operations in the Pacific, capable of accommodating the largest transport and refueling aircraft without being limited by runway length. Eielson Air Force Base, the critical mission hub for Pacific Air Forces in Alaska, completed a $600 million expansion for the F-35 in 2024, enabling operations by fifty-four fifth-generation fighters serving in a rapid-response role. The base now serves as a leading hub for generating tactical air power that could be deployed to the Pacific in wartime scenarios, providing a reserve of modern fighters capable of rapidly reinforcing the Pacific fronts in the event of a conflict.

King Salmon Airport, used as a diversion airfield for flights to the Pacific from Alaska, began a review of its master plan last May under the guidance of the Alaska Department of Transportation and Public Facilities. The airport began operations in 1943 as a World War II satellite airfield for the then-Army Air Forces. Construction to rehabilitate the airport’s taxiways, parking areas, and lighting is scheduled for 2028. The airport’s main runway is also scheduled to be resurfaced in 2028 to support its role as a diversion airfield and ACE site through the 2030s. The U.S. and Japanese air forces have deployed F-22, F-16, C-17, and C-130 aircraft to King Salmon Airport as part of joint exercises, demonstrating the integration of this facility into war plans against China. Cold Bay Airport, in the Central Aleutian Islands, has runways measuring 10,179 feet and 4,900 feet. Historically, it served as an Army Air Forces base during World War II and now operates as a civilian airport and diversion airfield for commercial flights crossing the Pacific. Cold Bay hosted Marine Corps F-35Bs last August during the Arctic Edge 2025 exercise, serving as a refueling point and regional hub for Marine forces.

Alaska, that vast and wild territory long considered a frozen parenthesis in U.S. military strategy, is now becoming a cornerstone of the war effort against China. There is something both fascinating and terrifying about this transformation: a territory that once symbolized the frontier, exploration, and untamed nature is gradually being converted into a massive rear base for potentially nuclear military operations. The people of Alaska—those isolated communities that have built their lives on the shores of the Arctic—find themselves increasingly surrounded by military infrastructure, with their local airports converted into potential battlefields. This is a powerful form of symbolic violence: the transformation of the last wild frontier into the ultimate military bulwark, as if even the farthest reaches of the world could not escape the logic of war that governs international relations today.

The Sentinels of the Aleutians

Eareckson Air Station, on the outskirts of the Aleutian Islands, officially closed as an air base in 1994 after fifty-one years of operations, having begun as a World War II airfield. Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson maintains the facilities at Eareckson as an ACE base and a diversion airfield for trans-Pacific military flights. Air Force engineers visited the island in 2024 to assess the airfield’s existing pavement as part of a routine inspection. Eareckson completes the northern air corridor, providing a final waypoint for aircraft crossing the Pacific from the continental United States to Asia. The Aleutian Islands, with their strategic position stretching like a protective arc westward from the Alaska Peninsula, have always played a crucial role in U.S. defense, serving first as a barrier against Japanese incursions during World War II and now as a platform for projecting power into Asia. The military history of these islands—marked by the Japanese invasion and occupation of Attu and Kiska in 1942–43—serves as a reminder that the Pacific is not a vacuum but a theater where rivalries among great powers have been played out for centuries.

The Atsugi Naval Air Station and Yokota Air Base in Japan will receive transport aircraft and fighter jets rotating through various airfields in Alaska, and expansions are underway at both facilities to store pre-positioned wartime equipment. The expansions at Atsugi will provide support for carrier-based air wings entering the theater, and the expansions at Yokota have been delivered incrementally over the past five years as the United States prepares the base for a future conflict with China. Both expansion efforts are led by RED HORSE and Seabees units, demonstrating the joint-service coordination of this massive Pacific remilitarization project. Japan, which already hosts the largest permanent concentration of U.S. forces outside the continental United States, is seeing its role further strengthened as a logistical and operational hub for operations throughout the first island chain. The Japanese public, deeply committed to constitutional pacifism since 1945, is expressing growing concern over the transformation of its territory into a rear base for a potentially nuclear conflict, even as the Japanese government officially supports strengthening the alliance with Washington as a deterrent against Chinese expansionism.

The Aleutian Islands—a string of volcanic islands battered by the storms of the Arctic Ocean—were once home to indigenous communities that had developed unique cultures adapted to the harshness of their environment. Today, these same islands are becoming mere technical staging grounds for warplanes, their existence reduced to their strategic utility. Eareckson Station, which closed in 1994 as a symbol of the end of the Cold War, is now reopening as a harbinger of a new era of confrontation. It is as if history cannot move forward, as if we were doomed to replay the same scenarios with different actors. The Aleutian Islands, which witnessed some of the most brutal battles of the Pacific War, are once again preparing to serve as a potential battlefield, as if the lessons of the past had never been learned.

Australia, the Sleeping Giant of the South

In a conflict between the United States and China over Taiwan, Australia will play an indispensable role as a major hub for combat aircraft pouring into the first island chain. The Australian continent already hosts a detachment of Marine Corps aviation and ground units as a forward-deployed, rotational rapid-response force, and is currently participating in advanced U.S. missile programs as a key partner, including flight tests of hypersonic weapons. Australia also hosts Talisman Sabre, a multinational exercise that frequently tests U.S. training and technology dedicated to the Pacific theater, with growing participation from Japanese, South Korean, and European forces reflecting the coalition nature of any future conflict in the region. Australia’s unique geographic position—at the southern end of the Indo-Pacific and protected by maritime distance—makes it a natural haven for logistics and maintenance bases that could support prolonged operations against China without being vulnerable to initial missile strikes that would target bases closer to China.

Aircraft flying to Australia from the continental United States will have the option of stopping in Honolulu before continuing westward to Kwajalein Atoll, a group of islands in the Marshall Islands used for U.S. missile testing. Kwajalein has been used as a refueling point during Marine Corps and Army exercises and can facilitate the arrival of additional follow-on forces after units have deployed logistical assets there. In 2023, Kwajalein supported the longest MV-22B flight ever conducted, from Honolulu to Subic Bay, as part of the annual Balikatan exercise with the Philippines. U.S. units could also choose to stop in American Samoa before continuing on to Australia. Pago Pago International Airport was also among the airfields considered for Joint Base Charleston’s Palmetto Challenge 2026, which is set to begin this month. In a conflict, U.S. aircraft could reach Australia from one of the dozen airfields along the Central Air Corridor and continue on to a forward operating base in the Philippines, Southeast Asia, or the Indian Ocean. This operational flexibility is at the heart of the Agile Combat Employment doctrine, enabling U.S. forces to adapt rapidly to changing battlefield conditions and maintain pressure on Chinese forces even after suffering significant losses.

Australia, an island continent that has long remained sheltered from major geopolitical upheavals, is now gradually being drawn into the orbit of the Sino-American conflict. There is something melancholic about this transformation of a nation that built its identity on its relative distance from centers of power and on its ability to remain on the sidelines of major conflicts. Today, Australia is becoming a vital link in the U.S. containment chain, its territory transformed into a rear base for operations that could well change the face of the world. Australians, who voted overwhelmingly for nuclear disarmament in the 1980s, now find themselves involved in hypersonic missile and weapons programs that would have seemed like science fiction barely a decade ago. This is a betrayal of the Australian identity, a gradual abandonment of the distance that had for so long protected this continent from the follies of the world.

The Strategic Network in the South Pacific

Kwajalein Atoll represents one of the most fascinating elements of this strategic network currently taking shape. Used for decades as a test site for U.S. ballistic missiles—particularly for testing missile defense systems—Kwajalein possesses unique infrastructure that makes it particularly well-suited for intensive military use. The radar, telemetry, and communications facilities located there make it possible to track and analyze missile trajectories with extreme precision—capabilities that would be crucial in a modern conflict against a power like China, which possesses a sophisticated missile arsenal. The potential conversion of these test facilities into operational wartime infrastructure represents one of the most troubling aspects of this remilitarization of the Pacific, as it means that even facilities traditionally dedicated to research and development are becoming integral parts of the war machine. The Marshall Islands, an autonomous territory in free association with the United States, have virtually no power to oppose this transformation of their territory, which remains under effective U.S. control in military matters.

American Samoa, with its strategic location in the heart of the South Pacific, is another potential link in this emerging network. Pago Pago International Airport, located on the island of Tutuila, has a 9,000-foot runway capable of accommodating military transport and refueling aircraft, making it a natural candidate to serve as a relay point between Hawaii, Australia, and New Zealand. The inclusion of Pago Pago in rapid deployment exercises such as Palmetto Challenge 2026 demonstrates that U.S. military planners are seriously considering the use of this airport in major war scenarios. American Samoa, an unincorporated territory of the United States with a population of approximately fifty thousand, mostly Samoans, is thus gradually being integrated into U.S. war plans without really having a say in this transformation of its airspace and territory into potential military infrastructure. This power imbalance between the small Pacific island communities and the U.S. military superpower is one of the most troubling aspects of this massive remilitarization of the region.

What strikes me about this map of Pacific islands transformed into links in a military chain is the total absence of genuine consent from local populations. Kwajalein, Pago Pago, Guam, Tinian—all these islands see their geopolitical fate decided in Washington without their inhabitants having any real say in the matter. This is military colonialism at its worst: entire populations reduced to the status of tactical pawns, their territories treated as mere pieces on a global chessboard whose rules they do not understand. American Samoa, with its millennia-old culture and deep connection to the land and the ocean, finds itself transformed into a potential military base for a conflict that does not directly concern it. This is a fundamental act of violence that denies the very sovereignty of these communities, reducing their existence to their strategic utility for powers that will never regard them as equals.

China’s Missile Arsenal: A Sword of Damocles

The Pentagon’s latest report on China’s military power, released in December, revealed the continued growth of the Chinese Rocket Force’s ballistic missile arsenal, which poses the primary threat to U.S. airfields in the Pacific. The Dongfeng-26 missiles, dubbed the “Guam killers” by Western military analysts, have an estimated range of between 3,000 and 4,000 kilometers, enabling them to strike Guam, Okinawa, and even Hawaii from the Chinese mainland. China developed these missiles explicitly as part of its anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) doctrine, which aims to prevent U.S. forces from operating effectively in the region in the event of a conflict over Taiwan or in the South China Sea. China’s missile arsenal also includes the DF-21D, nicknamed the “aircraft carrier killer,” designed specifically to target U.S. aircraft carrier strike groups, as well as a growing range of conventional and hypersonic cruise missiles capable of striking land targets with increasing precision.

China’s long-standing plans call for opening strikes that paralyze U.S. bases and cut off air support to U.S. front lines. The United States counters this strategy by “preparing the theater ” before the conflict begins, by prepositioning wartime equipment that can be loaded onto fighters and bombers on short notice, and by having hardened runways and parking areas ready to accommodate refueling aircraft and requisitioned commercial airliners, as well as additive manufacturing equipment ready to repair combat-damaged aircraft. This systematic preparation aims to create a deterrent that can prevent a future war, or to fight one if deterrence fails. Captain Thomas H. Healy, commander of the Naval Reserve Center Great Lakes, emphasized the importance of this preparatory work during a luncheon commemorating the anniversary of Pearl Harbor in December: “The difference between survival and catastrophe often hinges on the quiet, thankless work of preparation.” Master Chief Petty Officer Robert W. Lyons of the Naval Reserve emphasized the need to prevent another Pearl Harbor-style attack and stated that revitalizing critical airfields across the Pacific would serve to prevent a repeat of the trauma of 1941.

The paralysis that grips me in the face of these rising tensions is the overwhelming feeling that we are in the process of repeating exactly the same mistakes that led to the disaster of 1941. Pearl Harbor taught us the lesson of the vulnerability of massive concentrations of forces, and for decades we claimed to have learned that lesson by dispersing our forces and developing mobility capabilities. But today, in the face of China’s rising power, we are reverting to the logic of the impregnable fortress, the unassailable defensive wall, as if security could be achieved simply by amassing bases and missiles. This is an absurd arms race, a spiral of fear and mistrust that condemns us to devote astronomical resources to preparing for a conflict that could well destroy humanity. And the greatest irony is that this preparation itself increases the likelihood of the very conflict it is supposed to prevent.

The Strategy of Deterrence Through Dispersion

The increase in the number of hubs and spokes in the Indo-Pacific multiplies the number of Chinese military targets, requiring more decision-making on where and when to strike and how much ammunition to expend. This dispersion also allows U.S. forces to absorb missile strikes with greater confidence by giving engineering teams time to repair damaged airfields while fighter jets and refueling aircraft pivot to another location to continue combat operations. The strategic theory underlying this approach is that the more complex and distributed the base network is, the more difficult Chinese planning becomes, and the greater the likelihood that critical targets will survive a first strike. Simulation studies conducted by U.S. military think tanks suggest that a distributed network of thirty to fifty airfields capable of supporting high-intensity combat operations could survive a massive Chinese opening strike with sufficient operational capabilities to conduct counteroffensive operations.

Agile Combat Employment represents the practical application of this theory of dispersion, with detailed operational concepts for the rapid dispersal of forces, dynamic redeployment in response to threats, and the regeneration of combat capabilities from alternative locations. Exercises such as Resolute Force Pacific 2025 have allowed these concepts to be tested on a large scale, with hundreds of aircraft deploying across the Pacific base network to simulate a full-scale war scenario against China. The lessons learned from these exercises have informed infrastructure construction and improvement programs, with a particular focus on the rapid deployment of engineering teams to repair damaged runways and on the ability of these bases to operate with minimal infrastructure for extended periods. The massive investment in mobile additive manufacturing equipment—capable of producing replacement parts on-site to repair damaged aircraft—reflects the U.S. anticipation of protracted combat involving significant losses and the need for combat maintenance under austere conditions.

This strategy of dispersion reminds me of someone trying to survive a tornado by running in all directions at once. Theoretically, logical dispersion can increase the chances of survival, but in practice, it creates enormous complexity that can be just as dangerous as the concentration it seeks to avoid. Every additional base becomes a potential point of vulnerability; every supply chain, an additional dependency that can be targeted. Above all, this dispersion implies a radical transformation of the entire Pacific into a potential theater of war, accepting that every island and every atoll could become a battlefield tomorrow. It is a strategy that seeks to survive the apocalypse by accepting the transformation of paradise into hell, as if the alternative were not to work actively to prevent war but simply to prepare for it “better.”

Massive Investment in Military Infrastructure

The financial cost of this massive remilitarization of the Pacific is astronomical, with billions of dollars already committed and hundreds of billions more planned for the next decade. The Tinian project alone is absorbing more than $409 million, and simultaneous expansions at dozens of other sites represent total investments that could well exceed $50 billion over the 2024–2034 period. This massive spending comes amid budgetary strains in the United States, with record federal deficits and intense debates over spending priorities between defense and social programs. Critics of this approach point out that this money could be invested in diplomatic, economic, and development initiatives that would address the root causes of tensions with China rather than simply preparing for military conflict.

The economic impact on local Pacific communities is complex and mixed. On the one hand, military construction projects create jobs and inject billions of dollars into island economies that are often fragile and dependent on foreign aid. Local contractors benefit from construction contracts, hotels and restaurants see increased business thanks to rotating military personnel, and local governments receive compensation payments for the use of their land. On the other hand, this growing economic dependence on military spending creates vulnerabilities and structural distortions. Once construction projects are completed, many of these jobs will disappear, leaving communities with an artificially inflated economy that will have to adjust to a new reality. Furthermore, dependence on military spending limits economic diversification and can hinder the development of sustainable, independent industries.

What revolts me about this economic logic of war is the way in which the most vulnerable communities find themselves held hostage by military spending. The Pacific Islands, which have already suffered centuries of colonial exploitation, now find themselves dependent on the U.S. military apparatus for their economic survival—a dependence that robs them of any real autonomy. It’s the perfect trap: money flows freely during the construction phases, creating artificial prosperity and economic dependence; then, once the bases are completed, the communities are left with military infrastructure on their land and a stunted economy, unable to resist the transformation of their territory into a permanent military base. It is a form of modern economic servitude, where immediate survival takes precedence over long-term dignity and autonomy.

Political Reactions in the Region

The political reactions of governments in the region to this massive remilitarization of the Pacific are mixed and reflect the complex strategic dilemmas these states face. Traditional allies such as Japan, Australia, and the Philippines have largely supported U.S. initiatives, seeing them as a guarantee of security in the face of China’s growing assertiveness in the region. Japan, in particular, has significantly increased its own defense spending and deepened its military cooperation with Washington, gradually breaking with the constitutional pacifism that had dominated its foreign policy since 1945. Australia has signed the AUKUS partnership with the United States and the United Kingdom, which includes the supply of nuclear-powered submarines and the joint development of hypersonic weapons, marking a deep commitment to the Western military coalition in the Indo-Pacific.

Other states in the region have adopted more cautious approaches, seeking to maintain a balance between Washington and Beijing. New Zealand, although a member of the Five Eyes alliance alongside the United States, Australia, Canada, and the United Kingdom, has maintained a strict nuclear non-proliferation policy that limits its ability to participate fully in U.S. military initiatives in the region. Pacific island nations such as Fiji, the Solomon Islands, and Vanuatu have sought to play the role of intermediaries, avoiding too explicit an alignment with either side while benefiting from investments and aid from both. However, U.S. pressure to secure explicit support for its military initiatives has intensified, with U.S. diplomats systematically visiting the region’s capitals to emphasize the strategic importance of cooperation with Washington in the face of the “Chinese threat.”

The contradiction that tears me apart in the face of these political reactions is the impossibility for these small states to truly exercise their sovereignty in such a polarized context. Caught between U.S. pressure to align with its containment strategy and China’s economic promises of investment and development, these countries find themselves in a vise, forced to navigate an impossible balancing act. New Zealand, with its “nuclear-free” policy, may represent the last bastion of resistance to this total militarization of the Pacific, but even its position is becoming difficult to maintain in the face of intensifying regional military alliances. The Pacific islands—these jewels of biodiversity and millennia-old cultures—are being reduced to pawns on a geopolitical chessboard, their fate decided in distant capitals that care little for their local realities.

The Impact on Local Populations

Local populations on the Pacific islands that serve or will serve as sites for these military bases are facing profound upheavals in their ways of life and environments. Traditional communities that depend on fishing, subsistence farming, and tourism find themselves confronted with the gradual militarization of their living spaces. Access to coastal areas is restricted by military security zones; traditional sacred sites may be destroyed or rendered inaccessible by construction; and the constant noise of military aircraft disturbs wildlife and the peace of the communities. The psychological effects of this militarization are also significant, as residents live with the constant awareness that they are potential targets in the event of a major conflict between superpowers.

Issues of sovereignty and self-determination are particularly acute for unincorporated territories of the United States such as Guam, American Samoa, and the Northern Mariana Islands. These territories have no voting representation in the U.S. Congress and cannot effectively oppose military decisions that affect their territory. Independence movements in these territories have criticized what they perceive as militarization imposed without their consent, emphasizing that U.S. national security interests systematically take precedence over the rights and aspirations of local populations. The historical tensions between Guam’s indigenous Chamorro communities and the U.S. military presence—which occupies about one-third of the island—illustrate these conflicts over sovereignty and land use that are recurring throughout the Pacific.

The injustice that breaks my heart in this story is the utter powerlessness of these local communities in the face of decisions that will radically change their lives for generations to come. The Chamorros of Guam, the residents of Tinian, the residents of Pago Pago—all these people whose families have lived on these islands for millennia—have virtually no power over the military transformation of their ancestral lands. Their voices do not count in Washington’s strategic calculations; their cultures are merely secondary obstacles to the needs of U.S. national defense. This is the continuation of an unacknowledged colonial history, in which the indigenous peoples of the Pacific remain subjects rather than citizens, and whose lands are treated as mere tactical resources. This denial of human dignity in the name of “security” represents one of the most shameful aspects of this massive militarization.

The Devastating Environmental Consequences

The environmental impacts of this massive remilitarization of the Pacific are manifold and potentially catastrophic for already fragile ecosystems. The construction of military bases involves clearing vast areas of tropical forests and mangroves, destroying coral reefs to create maritime access points, and excavating quarries for construction materials. Military operations themselves generate significant pollution: aviation fuels, lubricants, heavy metals, and other chemical contaminants can seep into groundwater and coastal waters, endangering the freshwater resources and fish stocks on which local communities depend. The constant noise from military aircraft and live-fire exercises disrupts the behavior of marine and terrestrial species, with potentially devastating effects on the Pacific’s unique biodiversity.

Climate issues add an additional layer of complexity and danger to this militarization. The Pacific islands are among the most vulnerable to the effects of climate change, with rising sea levels threatening to completely submerge certain atolls by the end of the century. The construction of massive military infrastructure in these vulnerable areas may, paradoxically, accelerate this vulnerability by disrupting natural systems that protect against storms and coastal erosion. Furthermore, increased military traffic in the region contributes to greenhouse gas emissions, even as the Pacific islands advocate for urgent global climate action in the face of an existential crisis for their territories. This contradiction between U.S. climate rhetoric and the reality of its military operations in the Pacific has been highlighted by numerous island leaders who feel betrayed by this inconsistency.

The hypocrisy that revolts me in this story is the glaring contradiction between the climate rhetoric of the major powers and the reality of their military operations. The United States presents itself as a leader in the fight against climate change, signs international agreements, and delivers grandiloquent speeches on environmental protection—and at the same time, it destroys the planet’s most fragile ecosystems to build military bases there that directly contribute to global warming. Coral reefs—these natural barriers essential to the survival of the Pacific islands—are being dynamited to create military ports. Tropical forests—carbon sinks vital to the planet—are being cleared to build airstrips. This is short-sighted destruction driven by a blind military logic that sacrifices the planet’s climate future on the altar of war preparations that could very well render all our efforts to protect the climate futile.

The Disturbing Parallels with 1941

The historical parallels between the current situation in the Pacific and that of 1941 are striking and troubling. In 1941, tensions between the United States and Japan had gradually intensified as Japan expanded into East Asia and the United States refused to accept this expansion as a “fait accompli.” The U.S. oil embargo on Japan, imposed in July 1941 in response to the invasion of French Indochina, had presented Tokyo with an impossible choice: withdraw from its conquests or risk war to secure the resources needed to continue its war in China. Today, tensions between the United States and China are escalating over Taiwan, with Beijing asserting its commitment to unification and Washington deepening its military commitments to the island in a way that places the two powers on a potentially inevitable collision course.

The arms race characterizing the current period in the Pacific bears an alarming resemblance to that of the 1930s, with each side investing heavily in military capabilities specifically designed to counter the other. China has developed an arsenal of “anti-access/area-denial” missiles explicitly designed to prevent U.S. intervention in areas that Beijing considers its sphere of influence. The United States, in turn, has developed operational concepts such as Agile Combat Employment and Dynamic Force Employment, specifically designed to circumvent these Chinese defenses and maintain the ability to project military power in East Asia. This dynamic of action and reaction—in which every measure taken by one side is perceived as a threat by the other and triggers a countermeasure—creates a spiral of escalation that is difficult to reverse and could inadvertently lead to war, without either side actually wanting it.

The anxiety that consumes me in the face of these historical parallels is the terrifying feeling that we are in the process of exactly replicating the sequence of events that led to the disaster at Pearl Harbor. The same rhetoric of existential threat, the same uncontrollable arms races, the same bloc-based logic that polarizes the world into irreconcilable camps. The difference is that today’s weapons are infinitely more destructive, capable not only of destroying entire fleets but of annihilating humanity itself. And yet, we seem incapable of learning the lessons of the past, doomed to repeat the same mistakes with exponentially higher stakes. It is as if history were a curse from which we could never free ourselves, a fatal spiral that inexorably drags us toward a new apocalypse.

Lessons from the Military History of the Pacific

The military history of the Pacific offers many lessons on conducting operations across this vast ocean—lessons that are directly relevant to today’s military planners. The Pacific War demonstrated the crucial importance of air power and control of the seas for projecting forces over immense distances. The island campaign, in which U.S. forces advanced methodically from island to island toward Japan, established principles of maritime and air logistics that remain fundamental today. However, this same history also reveals the limitations and human costs of these power strategies, with battles such as Iwo Jima and Okinawa inflicting horrific casualties on both sides and demonstrating that even material superiority does not guarantee an easy or inexpensive victory.

The lessons of the Korean and Vietnam Wars are also relevant to understanding the potential challenges of a modern conflict in East Asia. These conflicts showed that technological and material superiority does not guarantee victory against a determined adversary fighting on its own territory with the support of the local population. China’s attempts at military intimidation around Taiwan—including repeated air and naval incursions into the island’s air defense identification zone—are reminiscent of the tactics of gradual military pressure employed by other expansionist powers throughout history. Today’s American diplomats and strategists are studying these historical precedents to try to understand how deterrence might work against a China that appears determined to pursue its goal of unification with Taiwan despite the risks of major war.

What distresses me about this constant invocation of military history is the way it is used to justify preparations for war rather than to prevent war itself. We study the battles of the Pacific as if they were tactical manuals, analyzing troop movements and logistical decisions without ever questioning the fundamental madness that made these wars necessary. The lessons we should draw from Iwo Jima and Okinawa are not the best amphibious landing techniques, but the absolute horror of modern war and the urgent need to do everything possible to prevent it. Instead, we treat these horrors as mere historical data to be factored into our strategic calculations, as if human suffering were just one factor among many in our military equations.

Ongoing Diplomatic Initiatives

Despite the intensification of military preparations in the Pacific, diplomatic initiatives aimed at defusing tensions between the United States and China are still underway. Military communications between Washington and Beijing, though limited, continue to function through direct lines of communication established between the high commands to prevent misunderstandings and accidental escalations. Informal talks between experts and policymakers on both sides continue in various forums, seeking to identify areas of potential agreement and develop confidence-building measures. However, these initiatives remain marginal compared to the scale of military investments and appear unable to slow the momentum of escalation.

Multilateral institutions such as the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) and the Pacific Islands Forum are attempting to maintain spaces for dialogue and cooperation that could temper the growing polarization. ASEAN, in particular, has adopted a cautious approach of neutrality between the United States and China, seeking to maintain balanced relations with both superpowers while defending its own regional interests. Development and economic cooperation initiatives, such as the Trans-Pacific Partnership and China’s New Silk Roads, offer alternative frameworks for relations that could reduce tensions if they were significantly expanded. However, these economic frameworks remain subordinate to the logic of military security that continues to dominate relations between Washington and Beijing.

The illusion that haunts me when I consider these diplomatic initiatives is their utter inadequacy in the face of the magnitude of the forces at play. All these hotlines, informal talks, and multilateral forums are mere drops in the ocean of military tensions building up in the Pacific. How could direct telephone lines prevent a war when hundreds of military bases are under construction, when thousands of missiles are aimed at each other, and when the rhetoric on both sides is becoming increasingly bellicose? It’s as if we were trying to put out a forest fire with a water gun. These diplomatic initiatives aren’t serious; they’re merely alibis to claim that “everything was tried” when the inevitable happens.

Economic Alternatives to Confrontation

There are alternatives to military confrontation in the Pacific—approaches that prioritize economic cooperation, sustainable development, and shared resource management over military competition. The framework for regional cooperation that has developed around environmental issues, particularly ocean protection and the response to climate change, offers a potential foundation for a new kind of relationship in the Indo-Pacific. The shared challenges posed by overfishing, marine pollution, rising sea levels, and ocean acidification create a need for cooperation that transcends power rivalries.

Models for joint natural resource management already exist in certain parts of the Pacific, including multilateral fisheries agreements and coral reef conservation initiatives that involve all regional stakeholders. Extending these models to other areas, such as the management of maritime trade routes or the development of offshore renewable energy, could create positive interdependencies that would reduce the incentives for military confrontation. The massive investments currently devoted to war preparations could be redirected toward these cooperative initiatives, creating a positive dynamic of development and regional stability rather than the current spiral of escalation.

The dream that seems so unattainable to me today is that of a peaceful Pacific—a space for cooperation rather than confrontation. Imagine those same billions invested in protecting coral reefs, in developing renewable energy for the Pacific islands, and in creating sustainable fishing systems that would feed local populations while preserving marine biodiversity. Imagine those same military engineers and logistical capabilities redirected toward combating climate change and preserving the environment. This isn’t science fiction; it’s a perfectly realistic alternative if we had the collective courage to choose cooperation over confrontation. But that choice seems impossible today, trapped as we are by our mutual fears and our logic of power.

Potential Conflict Scenarios

Military analysts have developed several scenarios for potential conflict between the United States and China, ranging from limited crises centered on Taiwan to full-scale wars involving the entire Pacific. The most widely studied scenario is that of a Taiwan crisis triggered by Beijing, either through an amphibious invasion of the island or a naval blockade aimed at forcing Taipei to surrender. In this scenario, U.S. forces and their allies would intervene militarily to support Taiwan, triggering a conflict that could quickly spread to other theaters. The bases currently under reconstruction would play a crucial role in this scenario, providing the necessary staging and support points for U.S. operations throughout the region.

Other scenarios involve crises in the South China Sea, where China’s territorial claims over virtually the entire strategic sea have created constant points of friction with the Philippines, Vietnam, Malaysia, and Brunei. A naval or aerial incident in this region could escalate into a broader conflict, with the United States honoring its defense commitments to its regional allies. Cyber and space conflicts also represent potential dimensions of a Sino-American confrontation, with attacks on critical infrastructure and military satellites that could precede or accompany conventional conflicts. The complexity and interconnection of these various scenarios make prediction difficult and increase the risk of uncontrolled escalation.

What terrifies me about these war scenarios is their apparent banality. We speak of “scenarios,” “crises,” and “limited conflicts” as if they were theoretical exercises rather than realities that could kill millions of people. An invasion of Taiwan would not be a “scenario”; it would be an unimaginable bloodbath. A naval blockade would not be a “crisis”; it would mean starvation for millions of innocent civilians. And yet, our military strategists and political leaders discuss these possibilities with an intellectual detachment that suggests they have forgotten the humanity of the potential victims. We have normalized war to a terrifying degree, accepting it as just one rational option among many in the conduct of international relations.

The Global Consequences of a Sino-American War

The economic consequences of a major war between the United States and China would be catastrophic for the global economy as a whole. The two economies are deeply interconnected, with global supply chains that depend on Chinese manufacturing and American technology. A major war would destroy these supply chains, cause massive shortages of consumer goods and industrial components, and trigger a global economic crisis potentially worse than that of 1929. Financial markets would collapse, global trade would grind to a halt, and the human toll would be devastating, particularly for developing countries that depend on exports to these two major economies.

The humanitarian consequences of such a war would be even more terrifying. Military casualties would number in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, particularly among civilian populations in combat zones such as Taiwan and the Pacific islands, which would serve as military bases. The potential use of nuclear weapons, even in a “limited” manner, could trigger a nuclear escalation leading to the annihilation of major cities and the deaths of tens of millions of people. The environmental consequences of a major modern war, even without the use of nuclear weapons, would be devastating, with fires, chemical pollution, and the destruction of critical infrastructure affecting entire generations. The political consequences would likely include the end of the current international order, the collapse of multilateral institutions, and the emergence of an even more unstable and dangerous world.

The absurdity that strikes me in the face of these potential consequences is that we know them, we understand them, we have documented them with terrifying precision, and yet we continue inexorably toward conflict as if these consequences were inevitable rather than avoidable. How can a species capable of understanding and foreseeing the catastrophic consequences of its actions still choose to bring them about? This is the fundamental paradox of the human condition: this ability to anticipate the worst and this inability to avoid it. We are like drivers watching a wall approach at full speed, aware of the imminent impact but unable to take our foot off the gas, hypnotized by our own race toward disaster.

The Choice Facing Humanity

The Indo-Pacific now stands at a historic crossroads, with two radically different visions of the future clashing. On one side is the vision of a Pacific transformed into a militarized zone, crisscrossed with bases and missiles, where every island and every atoll becomes a pawn in the game of competition between superpowers. On the other side is the vision of a Pacific characterized by cooperation, shared development, and collective management of common challenges such as climate change and ocean conservation. The decisions made in the coming years—particularly in Washington and Beijing—will determine which of these visions becomes a reality.

The peoples of the Pacific are at the heart of this choice, even though they have relatively little direct influence over the decisions that will shape their destiny. Island communities that have survived centuries of colonialism, the horrors of World War II, and the upheavals of the Cold War now find themselves once again facing the prospect of being turned into a major theater of war. Their collective voice—their aspirations for peace, sustainable development, and self-determination—must be heard and taken into account by the major powers that claim to act in their best interests. The future of the Pacific should not be decided solely in the capitals of the superpowers but also, and above all, by those who live there.

Faced with the abyss opening up before us, I feel a desperate sense of urgency, a silent cry rising from the depths of my being. We are at a turning point in history, a point of no return where every decision, every act of inaction, and every investment choice brings us closer to—or further from—catastrophe. These bases rising from the ruins of World War II, these missiles aimed at paradise-like islands, this relentless logic of power that is turning the Pacific into a potential battlefield—all of this must stop. Not tomorrow, not after the next election, not after the next diplomatic cycle, but now, immediately, radically. For we may no longer have the luxury of time; we may no longer have the right to make mistakes. History will judge us, but worse still, our children will judge us, and they will not forgive us for having been able to avoid the apocalypse and yet choosing to rush toward it anyway.