Tariq Saeedi
Last month, while watching yet another news briefing about escalating tensions somewhere in the world, I found myself thinking about quicksand. Not because I’m particularly fascinated by natural hazards, but because the metaphor kept forcing itself into my mind as I listened to officials explain their “limited engagement” and “targeted objectives.”
We’ve heard this language before. We’ve seen how these stories end.
What I’ve come to understand—through years of observing conflicts from the Middle East to Eastern Europe, from trade wars to proxy battles—is that modern warfare operates according to what I call the ‘Theory of Double Quagmire.’ It’s a phenomenon where all parties involved, whether they enter conflicts by choice or circumstance, become trapped in a situation they cannot escape without devastating consequences.
The “double” nature is crucial here. Unlike traditional military quagmires where one side gets bogged down, this modern variant ensnares everyone: aggressors and defenders, allies and adversaries, even neutral observers who find themselves pulled into the vortex of consequences.
How We Got Here
Consider how conflicts actually unfold in our interconnected world. A territorial dispute erupts—let’s say over resource-rich regions or strategic waterways.
The initial aggressor calculates a swift victory based on military superiority or perceived weakness in their opponent. Sound familiar? It should, because we’ve witnessed this calculation repeatedly over the past two decades.
But here’s where the theory kicks in: the defending nation doesn’t simply capitulate. Instead, they mobilize international support, triggering a cascade of obligations and interests. Alliance structures activate, economic sanctions follow, and proxy support flows to both sides. What began as a bilateral dispute becomes a multilateral crisis.
This is the double quagmire in action: neither side can withdraw without appearing to validate their opponent’s strategy, yet continuation guarantees mounting losses for all involved.
The Hidden Costs We Don’t Count
Military casualties and destroyed buildings dominate headlines, but the true devastation of modern quagmires lies in their systemic effects. I’ve seen this firsthand in regions still recovering from conflicts that ended decades ago.
Economic destruction ripples outward like stones thrown in a pond. — Conflict in one region sends the fertilizer prices skyward in another and creates the shortage of grain in several countries. The surge in energy costs places the governments on the horns of a dilemma. Supply chains wobble, sometimes coming to a grinding halt all of a sudden. — These aren’t abstract economic indicators—they translate into real families choosing between heating and eating, students dropping out of universities, small businesses closing permanently.
The psychological toll extends even further. — I have seen it firsthand in the refugee camps in three countries. The hopelessness begetting apathy, the anger in search of the nearest target, the little children with the eyes of the adults who have seen it all, the conflicting instincts to cling to any shred of hope and distrust everyone. The lost generations.
Today’s conflicts create fractures on a global scale. Trade relationships built over generations dissolve overnight. Scientific collaboration stops. Cultural exchanges cease. The accumulated trust that enables international cooperation—already fragile—erodes further with each crisis.
Why Leaders Keep Making the Same Mistake
The pattern is so predictable that it raises an obvious question: if the outcomes are so devastating, why do rational leaders keep falling into these traps?
Part of the answer lies in what behavioral economists call the “planning fallacy”—our tendency to underestimate the time, costs, and risks of future actions while overestimating their benefits. Military planners are particularly susceptible to this bias because successful campaigns often depend on speed and surprise, encouraging optimistic assumptions about enemy responses and international reactions.
But there’s a deeper issue: the political costs of backing down often seem higher than the risks of escalation, at least in the short term. Leaders fear appearing weak to domestic audiences or international rivals. They worry that compromise will invite future challenges. So they double down, hoping that additional pressure will force their opponents to capitulate first.
This dynamic creates a deadly game of chicken where both sides accelerate toward collision, each hoping the other will swerve first. In a double quagmire, nobody swerves—everyone crashes.
The Case for Strategic Patience
I’m not arguing for pacifism or appeasement. Some principles are worth defending, and some aggressors only understand strength. But I am arguing for a more sophisticated understanding of what strength means in the 21st century.
Real strategic thinking requires acknowledging that military solutions to complex problems rarely work as advertised. The most successful conflict resolutions of recent decades emerged from patient diplomacy backed by economic incentives and security guarantees.
Consider what we might accomplish if we invested just half of our military spending in conflict prevention. Early warning systems could identify tensions before they explode. Economic development programs could address root causes of instability. Educational exchanges could build relationships that transcend political boundaries.
This isn’t naive idealism—it’s practical realism based on evidence. Countries with strong economic ties rarely fight each other directly. Societies with robust civil institutions prove more resilient against extremism. International organizations, despite their flaws, provide forums for resolving disputes without bloodshed.
Breaking the Pattern
The theory of double quagmire offers a warning, but it also suggests a solution. If everyone loses in prolonged conflicts, then everyone benefits from their prevention.
This requires a fundamental shift in how we think about national security and international relations. Instead of preparing primarily for wars we hope to win quickly, we should focus on building systems that make wars less likely to start.
Multilateral institutions need strengthening, not abandonment. Trade relationships should be deepened, not weaponized. Cultural exchanges must continue even when political relations cool. These investments in peace infrastructure may seem expensive, but they cost far less than cleaning up after quagmires.
Most importantly, leaders need better metrics for success. Military victories that trigger decades of instability aren’t really victories. Diplomatic compromises that prevent conflict aren’t really defeats. We need to reward leaders who show the courage to choose long-term stability over short-term advantage.
The Choice Ahead
As I write this, several regions teeter on the brink of conflicts that could easily spiral into new double quagmires. Nevertheless, there is still the choice between the familiar path of confrontation and the harder work of sustainable solutions.
The theory of double quagmire isn’t deterministic—it’s a pattern we can choose to break. But doing so requires acknowledging that in our interconnected world, there are no purely bilateral conflicts and no purely military solutions.
Wars promise decisive resolution but deliver indefinite complications. Peace requires more work upfront but offers the only genuine escape from the quicksand that swallows everyone who steps in.
The choice, as always, is ours to make. Let’s choose wisely, before the sand closes over our heads. /// nCa, 30 September 2025