IN 1903, Monopoly was conceived as a critique of capitalism, demonstrating what happens when wealth, property, and power accumulate unchecked. The game rewards expansion, penalizes weakness, and ends only when all but one player are eliminated. While the analogy is imperfect and the real world infinitely more complex, recent geopolitical developments increasingly resemble a “real-life Monopoly game,” in which great powers treat territory, influence, and even sovereignty as assets to be acquired, defended, or traded.
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is a good example. Moscow’s annexation of Crimea and its claims over eastern Ukraine echo the logic of acquisition in Monopoly: a powerful player asserts that certain squares “belong” to them, whether by historical precedent, cultural ties, or sheer force. In the game, such claims are resolved by rules and currency; in reality, they are enforced through military violence, displacement, and prolonged instability. Yet the underlying assumption – that might and timing can override existing ownership – feels strikingly familiar.
Similar patterns appear elsewhere. US pressure on Venezuela, including applying the Monopoly “go to jail” rule on Nicolás Maduro and asserting American control or “management” of the country, reflects the mindset of a dominant player intervening when another appears bankrupt or mismanaged. In Monopoly, once a player can no longer meet obligations, their assets are stripped away without moral consideration. Real-world justifications may invoke democracy, security, or economic stability, but the asymmetry of power is unmistakable.
The US declaration of interest in acquiring Greenland from Denmark further illustrates the analogy. Greenland is discussed largely in strategic and economic terms – its location, natural resources, and military value – much like a desirable property on the board. The fact that Greenland has an indigenous population with its own aspirations is rarely featured in the debate, underscoring how the logic of assets can overshadow human realities.
China’s claims over Taiwan are another example. Beijing’s insistence that Taiwan is an inseparable part of China resembles a player asserting control over a property because it completes a color set. Sovereignty becomes a matter of board logic rather than consent. The difference, of course, is that Taiwan is not a square but a functioning society of 23 million people, whose political will complicates any clean “takeover.”
Against this backdrop, the implications for small countries are profound – and Israel offers a particularly instructive case. In Monopoly, small players survive not by size, but by strategy: careful cash management, selective alliances, and an acute awareness of which squares are becoming dangerous. Israel, surrounded by regional rivals and dependent on international partnerships, operates in a world where rules increasingly appear conditional and enforcement selective.
For Israel, the “real-life Monopoly game” presents both risks and opportunities. On one hand, the erosion of norms such as territorial integrity and sovereignty weakens the international legal framework that small states rely on for protection. If borders are treated as negotiable assets and power determines legitimacy, small countries face heightened vulnerability – especially when global attention shifts elsewhere or when great powers disagree on the rules.
Israel emphasises military deterrents
On the other hand, Israel has long operated under the assumption that formal rules alone cannot guarantee survival. Its emphasis on military deterrence, technological superiority, and strategic alliances reflects an intuitive understanding of Monopoly logic: never become the weakest player at the table. In a world where power politics are resurgent, this approach appears increasingly validated.
Yet the danger lies in normalization. When global politics resembles Monopoly, empathy erodes. In the game, bankrupting an opponent is the goal; in reality, destabilizing a region produces cascading consequences – refugees, radicalization, and economic shocks – that eventually affect even the strongest players. For Israel, regional instability rarely remains contained. Moves made by distant great powers can reshape local balances overnight.
Ultimately, the Monopoly analogy is not an argument for cynicism, but a warning. The game was designed to show how unchecked accumulation leads to collapse and resentment, not stability. If international relations continue to drift toward a board-game mentality – where might confers ownership and survival depends on constant expansion – small states like Israel will face a harsher, less predictable world. And as Monopoly itself demonstrates, a game that ends with only one player standing is not one that many would willingly play again.
The writer is an emeritus professor and former executive vice president of the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology.