On February 25, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer announced a significant increase in the UK’s military spending from 2.3% to 2.5% by 2027. The decision is driven by the need to address the evolving security challenges in Europe. “This government will begin the biggest sustained increase in defense spending since the end of the Cold War,” Starmer declared in the House of Commons. The announcement comes just two days before Starmer’s meeting in Washington with the President of the United States, who has repeatedly urged European countries to increase their contributions to NATO.
At its core, battle reveals itself as a clash of forces, engines and systems—a test of value, a human tragedy, and a historic moment.
“The world has changed after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine,” Starmer stated. “The nature of warfare has also evolved, as seen on the battlefield in Ukraine. It is therefore time to strengthen and modernize our armed forces.” And as the engines of war start up again, the conflict shifts in form. With some fortune, it inches toward its end, transforming into a hybrid entity where the battlefield extends beyond the physical into the virtual realm. However, beneath this technological surface, the age-old dynamics persist—the tensions that have shaped human history.
Art, a faithful witness, has captured these transformations, turning battle into an allegory of power, violence, and humanity. It has immortalized battles in a variety of forms, from realistic representation to symbolic transfiguration, painting not just visual chronicles but also interpretations of conflict—exploring the nature of violence, the meaning of heroism, and tragedy.
At its core, battle reveals itself as a clash of forces, engines and systems—a test of value, a human tragedy, and a historic moment.The different military strategies, from the use of the phalanx to that of firearms, reflect the evolution of strategic thought and the search for new forms of control.
Paolo Uccello, obsessed with perspective, transforms The Battle of San Romano into an elaborate geometric choreography, where spears, horses, and soldiers are arranged with mathematical precision, creating a sense of order within chaos. The soldiers take their places on the scene as geometric figures, following the laws of perspective that define the structure of the image. The battlefield becomes a stage of forms, where the clash turns into a kind of choreographed dance—a geometric ritual that celebrates the power of form. The vivid, contrasting colors emphasize the artificial dimension of the scene, transforming the battle into an abstract event—a pure manifestation of the artist’s desire for knowledge.
In The Battle of Anghiari, Leonardo da Vinci focuses on the expression of human emotion, depicting the anger, fear, and pain of the combatants. At the center of the scene is the struggle for the banner—a symbol of power and pride—which unleashes a primordial fury among the combatants. The horses, with their powerful and contorted forms, become the focal point of the painting, embodying the violence of the clash. Around them, the tangled bodies of the soldiers writhe, their faces distorted by anger and pain, revealing the bestial nature of war. Leonardo’s meticulous study of anatomy and the dynamics of moving bodies transforms the battle into an investigation of form and force. His masterful use of chiaroscuro carves the figures out of the shadows, emphasizing the expressions of rage and terror and infusing the scene with unprecedented dramatic intensity.
In contrast, Raphael’s Battle of Ostia offers a vision of grandeur and controlled dynamism, celebrating the triumph of Christianity.
This is not merely a historical account but a glorification of papal power. The great master of Urbino transforms the war episode into a scene of epic majesty, where the action unfolds with a purposeful rhythm driven by a celebratory intention. The painting flows as a fluid narrative, with heroic figures standing out in sculptural relief, embodying strength and determination. The skillfully orchestrated composition guides the viewer’s eye through the different moments of the clash—from the frenzy of the naval battle to the enemies’ surrender.
In the modern era, we leave behind spears, shields, and swords and come to rifles: The Third of May 1808. Francisco Goya offers a stark dissection of violence, a plunge into the abyss of horror that war unleashes. He does not celebrate heroes or victories; instead, he confronts us with the brutal reality of repression and the tragic vulnerability of human condition.
The scene unfolds in an atmosphere of somber solemnity, where the night covers the victims, silhouetted against the harsh, sinister light of a lantern. The firing line, a wall of soldiers stands implacably before the group of the condemned, isolating them in their anguish. At the center, a man with arms outstretched becomes the symbol of universal suffering, a martyr to the brutality of power. Goya’s dramatic use of color and light heightens the tragedy of the moment. The yellow light of the lantern illuminates the victims’ faces and the barrels of the rifles, transforming the scene into a shadowy theater, where death looms with chilling inevitability. The earthy browns of the ground and the deep blacks of the soldiers’ uniforms further deepen the atmosphere of desolation and mourning.
Despite their differences, these works offer a powerful and enduring testimony to art’s ability to immortalize and interpret one of humanity’s most complex and controversial phenomena. Is defense truly a need for security?