BUSH HOUSE IN LONDON is a narrow, imposing building that was constructed about a century ago from rugged limestone, which helped it survive a nearby missile strike during the second world war. It’s the sort of place you might choose to take shelter at the outset of a third world war and, fittingly, it is where dozens of Nato employees, as well as representatives of various global militaries, have gathered on a sunny summer afternoon to simulate the end of everything. In two vast top-floor conference rooms, an ambitious game – a wargame, they call it – has been devised by academics from the department of war studies at King’s College London. Dr David Banks, the university’s wargaming specialist, has invited me along to watch an imaginary conflict break out.
At 10am Banks, 44, who has silvery grey hair and a suit to match, takes to the stage to address the assembled players. Some have been sent by their bosses as a training exercise; others are volunteers, here out of curiosity. They range from suited military-industrial types to soldiers in uniform; scruffy programmers to scruffier lecturers; women and men in their 20s and 30s to greybeards carrying their coffee cups as though someone’s about to snatch them away. Wargaming appeals to all sorts of different people in different fields for different reasons, according to Banks. Politicians, ambassadors and their aides sometimes play these daylong games to “internalise lessons”. They might want to get better at reading diplomatic signals or making strategic decisions under pressure. Meanwhile generals, liaisons or others in the military sphere might enrol for bigger-picture reasons: to chance upon “surprising decisions, strategies or system dynamics” in a simulated conflict that might later be helpful in a real conflict.
Possibly one or two are here for the childish fun. Wargaming generally involves playing turn-based games with cards and maps, accumulating tokens and trying not to feel
