Announcements of tariffs that disappear and talk of military options that are later denied have become a familiar cycle. What looks like erratic behavior and abrupt reversals is increasingly visible on the world stage, and some policymakers treat unpredictability itself as a bargaining tool.
That tactic is not new. For decades statesmen and strategists have used sudden threats, opaque signals and dramatic posturing to unsettle rivals and win concessions. In international-relations scholarship this idea is often called the “madman theory”: the notion that projecting a willingness to take extreme, seemingly irrational steps can alter an opponent’s calculations by making escalation appear more likely. Cold War thinkers such as Daniel Ellsberg and Thomas Schelling articulated how the perception of irrationality could be leveraged to influence adversaries’ choices.
Although originally a way to explain apparently irrational conduct, the approach has sometimes been adopted consciously as a strategy. The most famous example is Richard Nixon: episodes like his 1969 nuclear alert are cited as attempts to intimidate North Vietnam by suggesting a capacity for extreme action. Such moves could amplify caution in opponents, even if they did not always translate into clear, decisive gains.
But Nixon operated in a very different information environment, and three conditions that supported the madman posture then are much weaker today.
First, information was scarce and tightly mediated. Slow communications and elite channels meant ambiguity could be preserved; leaders could appear capricious without immediate public analysis or rapid rebuttal. That controlled opacity was a central ingredient of the tactic.
Second, key adversaries tended to be organizationally conservative and deeply worried about systemic risk. Soviet decision-makers worked within rigid hierarchies and treated miscalculation as potentially existential, so signals of possible escalation carried greater weight.
Third, the tactic drew credibility from contrast. In a normally orderly political-military system, an outburst by a leader stood out as exceptional, which made it believable.
Those supporting conditions have eroded. Signals now erupt into public view in real time: social media, nonstop commentary and leaks mean provocative statements and reversals are immediately broadcast, dissected and reframed. What might once have frozen competitors into caution now more often becomes background noise.
Adversaries such as Iran, Russia and China operate in environments they already regard as volatile; surprising threats are less likely to produce awe and more likely to provoke probing, hedging or reciprocal escalation. When erratic behavior is routine, it loses coercive punch and becomes an expected variable in opponents’ calculations.
The pattern is visible in recent U.S. diplomacy: grand threats followed by walkbacks that do not seem to yield bargaining wins. Episodes involving Iran or the much-noted Greenland contretemps left ambiguity about objectives and limits rather than clear compliance. Allies respond by hedging and diversifying partnerships—India, for example, has deepened ties with China despite trade tensions—while rivals may seize openings created by mixed signals, as Russia has in Ukraine amid inconsistent messages from Washington.
Still, ambiguity retains limited value. Purposefully calibrated uncertainty over specific responses can strengthen deterrence by preventing adversaries from taking irreversible steps. U.S. strategic ambiguity on Taiwan is an example: by not committing publicly to a fixed course, Washington helps discourage either side from precipitating a crisis.
What no longer works is a posture of volatility untethered to clear objectives and boundaries. The madman idea arose in a world of more stable signaling and risk-averse opponents; it is far less effective where information flows are chaotic and politics are noisy. Unpredictability can be an instrument, but only when it is controlled, targeted and part of a coherent strategy—not merely erratic theater.
Andrew Latham is professor of political science at Macalester College.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.
