War is neocolonial, to those of us who grew up in Western Europe; an overseas operation where troops go off to topple governments and dissolve military groups which seem to pose no direct risk to the citizens of the countries those troops are allegedly protecting. The wars in Korea and Vietnam established this template and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan continued it. Being anti-war, then, seems like the only defensible position. Not only are these conflicts wasteful and fruitless, but they lead to the deaths of innocent people – the tax bill implicates the citizen in their murder. It is in this spirit that the conversation about divestment occurs.

An open letter on the Cambridge Student Union website states that the “University could be investing as much as £70 million in arms companies,” less than 1.7% of its £4.2 billion endowment fund, and the University receives some £3 million annually in industrial funding from companies associated with defence. That our presence at this institution might aid in the production of weapons that are shipped abroad to kill innocent people is appalling to many students.

“War is now an immediate threat to our lives and livelihoods that is only getting more likely as time goes on”

The campaign in favour of divestment (that is, the University’s withdrawal of all its shares in arms manufacturers and ceasing all research linked to arms) has been a powerful presence on campus since it ramped up in 2018 and then again after the beginning of the war in Gaza in 2023. This campaign has been successful in several respects; some significant measures at the University and College levels have been enacted. The argument for divestment is much the same as the argument against all 21st century military action by the West: foreign wars are immoral, destructive, unpopular and wasteful, and we don’t want to have anything to do with them.

But the world has changed. War is now an immediate threat to our lives and livelihoods that is only getting more likely as time goes on. The University microcosm provides some insight. In February of last year, the University of Cambridge hosted a conference attended by Ukrainian, European and British soldiers and diplomats on the future of European peace. According to Al-Jazeera’s coverage, the overwhelming sentiment was that “the international order is irrecoverably lost.” As one Ukrainian attendee put it, the “world we are living in no longer respects weakness.” Major European countries have begun heavy investment in arms. The overwhelming sentiment seems to be that Europe is under imminent threat from Russia, and we must defend ourselves.

Where do these geopolitical developments leave the issue of divestment? First of all, it’s clear that the danger facing people in the UK has no diminishing effect at all on the immediate suffering and death taking place across the globe.

But these developments present new dimensions to the issue of divestment. A recent Telegraph article claimed that Cambridge University has ongoing relationships with Chinese military institutions, the so-called Seven Sons of National Defence, which have been responsible for the development of rockets and China’s first light tanks. Earlier this year, Varsity reported that the university had received between £12-19 million from sources linked to the CCP.

“It is therefore important to our safety and security that the UK is seen to be serious about becoming a military power”

If these accusations are true, then, on top of being a moral failure, Cambridge’s association with arms may constitute a national security risk. As the possibility of a major armed conflict between NATO and Russia becomes more and more likely, the University continues to associate itself with the allies of strategic adversaries.

But the political developments of the last year also complicate the divestment issue somewhat. Because as war becomes more likely, our own armed forces become dearer to us. The threat of Russian attacks on British soil is very real, and the ability of the military to protect us is therefore very important. If it ever comes down to it, we will all hope that we are protected by the most accurate radar system that money can buy. British arms manufacturers would of course be absolutely vital in the event of a war.

A military is most useful as a deterrent – as far as any moral argument for the military can take us, an army has failed if it goes to war. But this works both ways: just as a strong military wards off danger, a weak military invites it. It is therefore important to our safety and security that the UK is seen to be serious about becoming a military power.

The tension within Cambridge’s divestment narrative, then, is that we must balance the rightful condemnation of arms production as a tool of destruction, with the knowledge that the looming threat of attacks on our families and friends can only be deterred or prevented by a strong domestic military. This isn’t to say that we are any more deserving of security than anyone else, by virtue of living in the UK – patriotism is not the most treasured of virtues here at the University of Cambridge. But ‘no more wars’ is no longer a motto for the 21st Century. It would be a parody of detached intellectualism to knowingly put our parents, siblings, friends and even our children in danger, for the idealistic goal of protecting all people everywhere.