I’m struggling to get my head around the latest bit of news doing the rounds. We’re talking about “safest places” in the UK if World War 3 kicks off. Honestly, it feels like something out of a bad dystopian novel, not something I should be reading over my morning roll and square sausage. The very idea makes my stomach turn.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, poor man, said:
“I believe that Putin has already started it [World War 3]. The question is how much territory he will be able to seize and how to stop him… Russia wants to impose on the world a different way of life and change the lives people have chosen for themselves.”
That’s a chilling thought, isn’t it? And then you see these “experts” weighing in, telling us where to hide.
One particular “expert”, a historian and author called Dr David Swift, had some pretty stark advice for us Scots. He told some publication or other, and I’m paraphrasing loosely here, that you wouldn’t want to be near the River Clyde. Specifically, he said:
“You also wouldn’t want to be near the River Clyde as that’s where the UK Trident submarines are based. Ideally you’d want to be somewhere in the countryside, far from major cities.”
Well, there’s a surprise, eh? Tell us something we don’t already know, Doctor.
For generations, the presence of HMNB Clyde, home to Britain’s nuclear submarines at Gare Loch, has been a thorny issue for many of us. It’s a constant, silent reminder of something truly terrifying, sitting right there on our doorstep. You can talk about the economic benefits all you like, but when the conversation turns to “safest places in WW3”, that argument tends to evaporate like mist over the loch.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, this notion that a part of Scotland, a bonnie, vital part of our country, is deemed a prime target. While folks are busy celebrating World Gaelic Week or getting ready for the Aberdeen Jazz Festival, the underlying reality of these weapons of mass destruction just sits there, like a dark cloud. It’s a stark contrast, isn’t it? The everyday resilience and cultural vibrancy of Scotland against the backdrop of potential global catastrophe.
Dr Swift also mentioned the need for broadband and independent energy supplies in rural areas. It’s almost laughable, this vision of us all retreating to some off-grid croft in the Highlands, trying to get Starlink to work while the world burns. My gran would tell you to stop worrying and put the kettle on, that’s what she’d say. But it’s hard to ignore when these kinds of warnings become part of the daily chatter.
I remember the debates about Trident when I was younger, and they haven’t really gone away. The idea that Scotland hosts a nuclear deterrent, whether you agree with it or not, changes the conversation entirely when someone starts listing potential targets. It’s not just about Glasgow or Edinburgh, though the rivalry between our two great cities usually dominates the headlines. It’s about a fundamental part of our national security, or insecurity, depending on your viewpoint. You can read more about what the Scottish Parliament has to say on various policies.
The idea of “safest places” also brings up a bit of a grim humour, doesn’t it? As if there’s a corner of this island where you can truly escape the consequences of a global conflict. It reminds me of the old wartime posters, “Keep Calm and Carry On”, but this time, the threat feels far more existential than any previous generation might have imagined.
The news that Ukrainian President Zelensky believes Russia’s actions already constitute World War 3 is a heavy burden to carry. It’s easy to get lost in the day-to-day, to focus on local issues or even what Scottish books are worth reading next year, or the upcoming StAnza Poetry Festival in St Andrews. But every now and then, a story like this cuts through the noise and reminds you of the bigger, much more terrifying picture.
I find myself wondering what the point is of these lists of “safest places”. Are they meant to reassure us? Or just to highlight the vulnerability of certain areas, effectively putting a target on them? It feels more like the latter, a chilling reminder that our geography, our strategic importance, could be our undoing.
Ultimately, for me, the discussion isn’t really about finding a bolthole. It’s about facing the grim reality of what we host on our shores and what that means for our future. It’s about the politicians, the ones making the big decisions, truly grasping the weight of their choices. Because when the talk turns to World War 3, and where in Scotland might be “unsafe”, it’s not just an academic exercise. It’s a very real, very Scottish worry. And it’s one that keeps far too many of us awake at night.
Source: News articles from various Scottish outlets.
