On September 5, 2025, the world found itself once again reckoning with the ever-present specter of nuclear weapons. As tensions simmered across continents and new military displays captured global attention, a chorus of voices—ranging from government officials to religious leaders—sounded alarms about the risks and responsibilities surrounding nuclear arms in the twenty-first century.
At the heart of the American nuclear enterprise lies a policy that has shaped decades of global security: the president of the United States wields “sole authority” to order the use of nuclear weapons. This extraordinary power, first codified in 1948 by the National Security Council through the adoption of NSC-30, remains a cornerstone of U.S. defense policy. The Department of Defense’s 2024 Report to Congress on the Nuclear Employment Strategy of the United States couldn’t be clearer: “the Guidance reaffirms that the President remains the sole authority to direct U.S. nuclear employment.”
Yet, this concentration of power has never sat easily with much of the public—or with experts who track the risks of nuclear escalation. According to recent polling by the Chicago Council on Global Affairs and the Carnegie Corporation of New York, 61% of Americans are either somewhat or very uncomfortable with the president having sole authority over nuclear launch decisions. The question that haunts many: should one individual, no matter how seasoned or well-intentioned, truly hold the fate of millions in their hands?
History has not been kind to the myth of presidential infallibility in this arena. There have been moments, almost farcical in their danger, that reveal the vulnerabilities of the current system. Bill Clinton reportedly lost his nuclear authorization codes for months. Jimmy Carter, in a story that’s become legend in security circles, is said to have sent his codes to the dry cleaners in his suit pocket. Perhaps most chillingly, after the 1981 assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan, the president’s military aide was separated from him, and the card carrying his nuclear codes ended up in hospital trash—later recovered by the FBI. These lapses, while sometimes recounted with a nervous chuckle, underscore the fragility of a system built on the assumption of constant, unerring vigilance at the very top.
Questions have also swirled around the mental and intellectual reliability of certain presidents. Ronald Reagan was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease just five years after leaving office. John F. Kennedy relied on strong pain medications. Richard Nixon’s final days in office were marked by heavy drinking and erratic behavior, while Donald Trump’s off-the-cuff remarks and threats regarding nuclear use sparked widespread anxiety. The psychological pressure on any president in a nuclear crisis—facing decisions that must be made in minutes—only heightens the risk of catastrophic error.
Critics point out that the ethical and legal burden placed on lower-level military officials is immense. They are required to carry out orders that could unleash devastation on an unimaginable scale, with little room for independent judgment. For many, this challenges the very foundations of democratic accountability and the rule of law.
But the United States is not alone in facing these dilemmas. Around the world, the nuclear landscape is shifting rapidly. On September 3, 2025, China staged a massive military parade to mark the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II. The event was more than a display of national pride; it was a calculated demonstration of military might. Among the hardware on display were new and modified nuclear weapons—systems never before seen by the public. This show of force sent a clear message to rivals and allies alike: China’s nuclear capabilities are modernizing, and the world should take notice.
The global nuclear arsenal remains on a hair trigger. There are approximately 2,000 nuclear weapons on alert worldwide, each one far more powerful than the atomic bomb tested at Jornada Del Muerto during the Trinity Test 80 years ago. The United States, for its part, continues to modernize all legs of its nuclear triad—developing new warheads, missiles, and delivery platforms in a bid to maintain its strategic edge. The stakes, it seems, have never been higher.
Recent events in the Middle East have only added fuel to these anxieties. In a televised interview from Baghdad on September 5, 2025, Iranian Deputy Foreign Minister Khatibzadeh declared that Israel had failed to achieve its objectives in its U.S.-assisted confrontation with Iran in June. He noted that the International Atomic Energy Agency was unable to protect Iran’s nuclear facilities during the attacks and condemned Israel’s “policy of assassination and terror,” citing the killing of Iranian commanders and scientists as “crimes under international law.” Khatibzadeh accused Israel of using “powerful media lobbies” to spread disinformation but insisted that Iran quickly regained control during the hostilities. He also took the opportunity to highlight strong bilateral ties between Iran and Iraq, pointing to recent agreements on energy and other forms of cooperation.
All these developments point to a world not moving toward nuclear restraint, but rather toward renewed arms races and heightened risks. On August 29, 2025, Archbishop Gabriele Caccia, the Holy See’s permanent observer to the United Nations, delivered a sobering message to the UN General Assembly. Marking the International Day Against Nuclear Tests, Caccia lamented the “resurgence of aggressive nuclear rhetoric, the development of increasingly destructive weapons, and a significant increase in military spending, often to the detriment of investments in integral human development and the promotion of the common good.”
Since the first nuclear test on July 16, 1945, more than 2,000 nuclear detonations have scarred the planet—on land, in the atmosphere, underground, and in the oceans. The victims, Caccia reminded the assembly, are often the most vulnerable: Indigenous populations, women, children, and the unborn. “The health and dignity of many continue to be compromised in silence and, too often, without any kind of compensation,” he said.
What is particularly worrying, Caccia argued, is that “the global response seems to be going in the opposite direction” from disarmament and peace. Quoting Pope Leo XIV, he urged the world to “reject the lure of powerful and sophisticated weapons as a temptation.” The archbishop called for renewed multilateral dialogue, full implementation of disarmament treaties, and concrete support for communities still suffering the long-term consequences of nuclear testing. He reiterated the importance of the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty and its verification mechanisms, affirming the Holy See’s “unconditional support” for strengthening the global norm against explosive nuclear tests as essential for lasting peace.
As the world marks eight decades since the dawn of the nuclear age, the debate over who controls these weapons—and how humanity can step back from the brink—has never been more urgent. Whether in the corridors of power, the streets of Baghdad, or the halls of the United Nations, the call is clear: the risks of nuclear weapons demand not just vigilance, but wisdom, humility, and a renewed commitment to peace.