Why Conflict Feels Constant Now

Imagine living in Canada, the country that for decades has been synonymous with tranquility and stability, and suddenly finding it at the center of war scenarios, simulated invasions, and threats of annexation. It's not the plot of a dystopian novel: it's what Canadian journalists and analysts are reading in the newspapers every day. And the strangest thing is that it's not just happening in Canada: today, "gray zones" — once reserved for turbulent borders and no-man's land — are becoming the norm for the whole world. The traditional idea of war, with its clear boundaries between peace and conflict, has evaporated. Today, wherever you look, you find a mixture of disinformation, economic pressure, sabotage, cyberattacks, and propaganda: everything that experts call "gray zone tactics." The argument, which may seem uncomfortable, is this: the sense of permanent conflict we feel is not an anomaly — it is the new standard. We no longer live in an era of peace interrupted by crises, but in a continuous crisis where the rules of the game have changed. And the most destabilizing thing is that the old boundaries — between states, allies, enemies, civilians, and the military — have dissolved. Canadian journalist John Last recounts his surprise at seeing Canada described as an easy target for potential invasions, with even practical guides explaining how to wipe it off the map. Until a few years ago, he says, these scenarios would have been considered the delusions of some extremist. Today, however, they are part of the public discourse, fueled by the fact that the United States itself — historically the guarantor of Western security — has begun to see even its allies as possible adversaries, at least according to the national security doctrine that has emerged in recent years. Michael Williams, an expert on the international far right, explains that in the new paradigm, "the West is portrayed as a civilization threatened by liberalism, and anything that serves to attack it, even from within, is justified." The "small civil wars everywhere" are not just a metaphor: they are the reality of societies that feel constantly threatened, both by external enemies and by internal "traitors." But where does this obsession with the gray zone come from? History offers us a key: for centuries, the frontier — that no-man's land between empires and states — has been both a laboratory of freedom and a place of violence and division. Sociologist Frederick Jackson Turner argued that the frontier had forged the American spirit, mixing individualism and a propensity for violence. But the reality, says researcher Luke Kemp, is that borders have always been places of asymmetry, where the power of the state is exercised over those who are "outside" and where new solidarities are created that often degenerate into ethnic or religious divisions. Daniel Hoyer, a computational historian, observes that every society, from ancient Rome to the present day, has always had "barbarians at the gates" — only the face of the enemy changes, but the narrative remains the same. And when these narratives become personal and threatening, they serve above all to strengthen internal cohesion, but at the cost of increasing isolation and a loss of diversity. The gray zone, however, is not only conflict: it is also a space for exchange, diversity, and the possibility of escaping state control. Anthropologist James C. Scott recounts how many populations in the mountains of Southeast Asia were born precisely this way: communities of fugitives fleeing taxes, wars, and impositions, choosing life on the margins rather than submission. For this reason, the history of modern states is also the history of their struggle to eliminate borders, close gray areas, and impose clear boundaries. But with the advent of globalization, digitization, and the privatization of force — think of military contractors like the Wagner Group, surveillance platforms like Palantir, or the digital infrastructures of Google, Amazon, and Starlink — state power has weakened. Today, the control of the instruments of violence and information is often in the hands of private individuals, no longer bound by the logic of the nation-state. The result? States that are increasingly unable to guarantee order and coherence, and an exponential growth in "gray" conflicts: sabotage, digital propaganda, and targeted attacks on identity, often orchestrated by entities that are beyond any democratic control. And when artificial intelligence enters the scene, the responsibility of the actors becomes even more opaque: just think of the case of the Iranian school hit by missiles guided by a private AI, with the authorities refusing to take the blame. But there is one aspect that often escapes notice: the gray zone is not only the sign of an empire expanding its control, but it can also be the signal of a system that is falling apart. Kemp suggests that we are experiencing more the convulsions of a dying order than the growth of a new one. If this "us versus them" logic continues to amplify, Hoyer warns, gray zones risk becoming hot zones, that is, real conflicts, even on a global scale. In the midst of this chaos, “border” countries like Canada must decide whether to consider their position a strength or a vulnerability. Some, like former Minister Carney, have chosen to embrace ambiguity: it is better to remain a frontier, with all the risks that entails, than to become a periphery controlled by someone else. In practice, the only real resource left is the possibility of choice, the ability to move between rival powers, accepting complexity instead of closing oneself behind new mental or physical frontiers. Here is the point that flips the perspective: what we call widespread conflict is no longer a parenthesis to be closed — it is our daily landscape. And true freedom today is still having some way out. The phrase to take with you is this: in the new era of gray areas, true strength lies in the ability to move between conflicts, not in the illusion of being able to erase them. If you recognize yourself in this uneasiness, you can use I'm In on Lara Notes: it's not a like, it's the gesture of someone who says that this vision now belongs to them. And if you happen to discuss it with someone — perhaps because they too feel besieged by conflict everywhere — on Lara Notes you can mark that conversation with Shared Offline: a way of saying that talking about these gray areas, outside the network, really mattered. This Note comes from an article by NOEMA and saves you 9 minutes of reading.