On 23 September 2026, the United Nations Security Council confronted an unusual development in international security. The people warning governments about the dangers of AI were not only diplomats or military officials, but the executives building the technology itself. OpenAI CEO Sam Altman, Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei, and Hugging Face co-founder Clément Delangue briefed the 15-member Council as governments grapple with increasingly capable AI systems that can write code, operate autonomously, interact with external systems, and potentially improve their own capabilities. Amodei warned that, if poorly managed, “AI could be a risk to humanity as a whole”, while Altman argued that decisions about AI could not be left to technology companies alone.
The meeting was significant because AI is rapidly moving from a technology-policy issue into the domain of international security. Yet the deeper question is not simply how dangerous AI may become. It is who will establish the rules governing a technology increasingly concentrated in the hands of a small number of states and companies. The UN is attempting to become the forum where those rules are debated, but it is entering a contest in which technological capabilities, economic power, national security interests, and competing visions of governance are already shaping the outcome.
Wars are no longer confined to missiles, drones, or soldiers on the battlefield; increasingly decisive struggles are taking place in the invisible realm of signals that quietly guide planes through the sky, ships across narrow straits, and even the timing of financial markets. At the heart of this new contest lies the Global Positioning System (GPS), once praised as a scientific triumph and gifted to the world as a free public good, increasingly repurposed into a weapon that is inexpensive to disrupt, difficult to trace, and capable of inflicting consequences far beyond the battlefield.
The recent jamming of European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen’s aircraft served as a stark reminder that even the highest levels of leadership are not immune, but what may appear to be isolated incidents in Europe are in fact part of a broader pattern that has taken deep root in the Middle East. In a region where the world’s most critical energy chokepoints converge, navigation interference is no longer a rare abnormality but an increasingly routine feature of conflict, carrying implications that stretch from military readiness to economic stability and, ultimately, to the daily lives of millions.
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