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THE modern industrial economy rests on a narrow and increasingly fragile base of critical resources. Energy fuels, industrial metals, rare earth elements, semiconductors, water and arable land are no longer just inputs to growth; they are instruments of power. Oil and gas still shape geopolitics, but lithium, cobalt, nickel, copper and advanced chips now determine who controls the technologies of the future — from electric mobility and renewable energy to artificial intelligence and modern warfare. When access to these resources is disrupted, economies stall, inflation surges and political stability erodes.
History offers little comfort. States have always pursued resources beyond their borders, often disguising material ambition behind ideology or security narratives. The annexation of Alsace-Lorraine was about coal and iron as much as nationalism. Japan’s expansion into Manchuria was driven by minerals and industrial survival. Control over Middle Eastern oil shaped alliances, coups and wars throughout the 20th century. These were not aberrations; they were rational responses by states operating under scarcity and competition.
What distinguishes the present moment is the intensity. The global population is larger, consumption is higher and ecological limits are closing in. Climate change is degrading land and water systems while accelerating demand for transition minerals. At the same time, new trade routes and strategic corridors are emerging. Control over ports, undersea cables, logistics hubs and mineral processing capacity now matters as much as territorial control once did. Value chains are the new battlefields.
States are responding in predictable but dangerous ways. Some pursue direct acquisition through force or coercion, betting that strategic assets outweigh diplomatic isolation. Others seek control through ownership — buying mines, farmland, ports and firms abroad to secure supply invisibly. A third group relies on indirect dominance: financing infrastructure, extending security guarantees, shaping standards and locking partners into asymmetric dependence. Whether through invasion, acquisition or influence, the logic is identical — security through control.
Have we arrived at this perilous moment because we covet too much?
This is the political soil in which populist leaders flourish. They instinctively understand a hard truth: politics mirror human emotions more than rational calculation.
They succeed not because societies misunderstand reality, but because they know that the lure and promise of personal safety and comfort overrides concerns about disruption and destruction in distant lands. In an age of insecurity — economic volatility, cultural anxiety, climate stress — people respond to leaders who echo their fears and promise protection. When offered stability, energy security or jobs, abstract moral costs fade. The concept of justice and fair play matter little when immediate survival feels at stake. Populism is not an ideological anomaly; it is a mirror.
At the core of this moment lies the darker truth about human nature. We frame global politics as contests between systems, but it is equally a struggle between restraint and desire. Tolkien understood this. In The Lord of the Rings, the Ring does not tempt villains alone. It seduces the well-intentioned by offering power to “set things right”. Each bearer believes they can control it. Each is wrong. The Ring corrupts not because its holders are evil, but because they are human.
Our age is filled with Rings. Critical minerals. Energy corridors. Strategic chokepoints. Technological dominance. Each promises security and prosperity. Each demands moral compromise. Nations convince themselves that exceptional circumstances justify exceptional actions — that rules apply to others, not to them. In doing so, they repeat the oldest mistake in political history: believing power can be wielded without cost.
Have we arrived at this perilous moment because we covet too much? Because we have drifted from collectivism towards an aggressive individualism, where nations behave like individuals hoarding wealth and security regardless of the cost to others? The global order once aspired — however imperfectly — to shared rules, mutual restraint and collective benefit. Today, those norms are fraying, replaced by transactional bargains and zero-sum thinking.
The tragedy is that this path is chosen consciously, applauded domestically, and repeated globally, until restraint is seen as weakness and morality as a luxury no nation can afford in an unforgiving world. The Ring, however, does not merely dominate; it deforms the soul of its bearer.
This is where the Faustian bargain becomes unavoidable. Like Faust, modern societies trade restraint for advantage, ethics for efficiency, long-term stability for short-term gain. The bargain feels rational, even necessary. But Faust’s tragedy was not ignorance; it was arrogance — the belief that consequences could be managed later.
The final warning is not abstract. A world organised around domination of resources will not stabilise; it will harden. Arms races will follow supply chains. Borders will be redrawn around minerals and water. Climate stress will magnify inequality and conflict. And the moral corrosion will run inward, hollowing societies that justify injustice in the name of security. What we are witnessing is human nature laid bare, stripped of the fragile veneer of civilisation that once concealed its darker impulses behind the illusion of civility.
The battle unfolding is not only between states, but a reflection of the eternal conflict between good and evil within human choice. Seizing the Ring may bring power, but it also binds the bearer to its curse. Democracy and multipolarity, then, are not merely political arrangements; they are moral expressions of our humanity; systems that acknowledge fellowship over domination. The warning is clear: a world built on fear, greed and domination may achieve temporary security, but it will ultimately consume itself.
The writer is chief executive of the Civil Society Coalition for Climate Change.
Published in Dawn, January 17th, 2026
