Tariffs get announced — and then quietly withdrawn. Military force is raised as an option — and then reportedly removed from consideration. Erratic moves and surprising reversals are increasingly visible in foreign policy, and some now treat unpredictability as an asset rather than a flaw.

But presenting oneself as volatile is not a new tactic. Threats, abrupt policy shifts and deliberately confusing signals have long been used to unsettle rivals and extract concessions. In international-relations literature this idea is called the “madman theory.” Cold War thinkers such as Daniel Ellsberg and Thomas Schelling described how projecting a willingness to take extreme measures can shape an opponent’s behavior by raising the perceived risk of escalation.

Although originally an explanatory concept — used to interpret apparently irrational conduct — leaders have sometimes adopted it deliberately as a strategy.

The madman approach was most famously linked to Richard Nixon, who reportedly embraced the idea as he sought to pressure North Vietnam. Episodes like Nixon’s 1969 nuclear alert suggest the tactic could amplify caution in adversaries even if it did not produce decisive victories.

But Nixon’s context offered three enabling conditions that are largely absent today.

First, information scarcity. During the Cold War, communications were slower and channelled through elites: diplomats, intelligence professionals and military officers. Ambiguity could be maintained; a leader might appear erratic without immediate public decoding or widespread analysis. The madman pose relied on that controlled opacity.

Second, adversaries were organizationally conservative and shared a high sense of systemic risk. Soviet leaders operated inside rigid hierarchies and feared miscalculation because they associated it with existential danger for the regime. That temperament made them responsive to signals of potential escalation.

Third, credibility rested on contrast: the apparent madness mattered because it was exceptional within a normally orderly political-military system. The U.S. bureaucracy’s usual restraint made an outburst by its leader seem extraordinary and therefore credible.

Those conditions have eroded.

Today, signals are amplified in real time: tweets, clips, instant commentary and leaks mean provocative moves are instantly visible, dissected and reframed. Unpredictability has less room to create paralyzing dread; it more often becomes background noise.

Adversaries such as Iran, Russia and China already operate in environments they regard as volatile. Unusual threats are neither shocking nor necessarily deterrent; they can prompt probing, hedging or reciprocal escalation instead of capitulation. And when erratic behavior becomes routine, it loses coercive force — it becomes an expected variable in opponents’ calculations.

The pattern shows up in recent U.S. interactions. Public bluster followed by reversals — without clear bargaining gains — makes unpredictability itself predictable. Episodes around Iran and the Greenland episode illustrate this dynamic: threats and ambiguous signals strained relationships and produced uncertainty about aims and limits rather than clear compliance or durable advantage.

In a media landscape accustomed to volatility, threats no longer freeze competitors into caution. Allies hedge and diversify — for instance, India deepening ties with China amid trade tensions — while rivals may interpret ambiguity as an opening, using it to press advantages, as Russia has in Ukraine amidst mixed signals from Washington.

That said, ambiguity can still be useful in limited ways. Strategic uncertainty about specific responses can strengthen deterrence by preventing adversaries from locking into automatic escalation. U.S. strategic ambiguity toward Taiwan is a case in point: by leaving unclear whether Washington would intervene, it discourages either side from taking irreversible steps that would trigger war.

What no longer works is volatility untethered from clear aims and visible boundaries. The madman theory was forged for a world of more stable signaling and risk-averse adversaries; it is least effective where politics and information flows are most chaotic. Unpredictability can still be a tool, but only when it is controlled, targeted and embedded in a coherent strategy rather than presented as erratic theater.

Andrew Latham is a professor of political science at Macalester College.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original.

Tariffs are on — until they are not. Military force is raised as an option — then taken off the table. Erratic behavior and unpredictability are being discussed in some foreign policy circles as if they were strategic assets rather than liabilities.

This is not a new idea. For decades leaders have used wild threats, sudden reversals and deliberately confusing signals to unsettle rivals and try to extract concessions. In international-relations literature this is known as the “madman theory.” Cold War strategists such as Daniel Ellsberg and Thomas Schelling described how projecting a willingness to take extreme actions can alter an opponent’s calculations by increasing the perceived risk of escalation.

Originally descriptive — a way to explain apparently irrational behavior — the concept has sometimes been adopted prescriptively by leaders seeking to weaponize unpredictability.

The theory was most famously associated with Richard Nixon, who, as president, reportedly embraced the approach to try to coerce North Vietnam. Historians point to episodes such as Nixon’s 1969 nuclear alert: it may have reinforced Soviet caution even if it did not end the war. That partial effectiveness rested on three background conditions that have largely evaporated.

First, information scarcity. During the Cold War signals traveled slowly through controlled channels—diplomats, intelligence analysts and military officers. Ambiguity could be sustained; a leader might appear unhinged without immediate public decoding. The mystique of the “madman” depended on that opacity.

Second, a stable adversary with a common sense of risk. Nixon’s gambit relied on conservative, hierarchical Soviet decision-making wary of miscalculation. That shared fear of catastrophic loss made erratic signaling more potent.

Third, credibility created by restraint elsewhere. The madman pose only works when it is exceptional. Nixon’s threats seemed dangerous because they contrasted with an otherwise orderly American system.

Those conditions no longer obtain. Signals now spread instantly via social and traditional media, are dissected in real time, and become part of a noisy stream. Unpredictability can quickly dissolve into chatter rather than inducing sober fear. Many rival states operate in environments they already view as unstable; volatility is the norm, not the exception. In such settings apparent irrationality can invite probing, reciprocal escalation, or hedging rather than caution.

When unpredictability becomes routine, it loses coercive force. Repeated public bluster, contradictions and tactical backdowns create a predictable pattern of unpredictability. Examples from recent U.S. foreign policy illustrate this. In dealings with Iran and with Greenland, threats and ambiguous signals strained relations and raised questions about objectives and limits, without producing lasting leverage. Coercive moves directed even at allies can erode alliances rather than compel compliance.

Allies and adversaries respond by hedging or testing boundaries. Faced with tariff threats, some countries have moved closer to other partners; India, for instance, has deepened ties with China. Russia has interpreted ambiguous U.S. signaling over Ukraine as a green light to press territorial aims.

That said, ambiguity still has strategic uses in limited settings. Deliberate uncertainty about specific responses can strengthen deterrence by preventing adversaries from locking themselves into automatic escalation. U.S. strategic ambiguity toward Taiwan is a classic example: leaving unclear whether Washington would intervene helps discourage both a Chinese rush to force and an unconditional Taiwanese drift toward independence that would provoke a crisis.

What no longer works is volatility untethered to clear goals and visible limits. The madman strategy was formulated for a more rule-bound, slower-moving international order. In today’s fast, noisy, and already volatile world, untamed unpredictability tends to produce confusion, hedging, reciprocal risk-taking, and weakened alliances rather than the paralyzing fear the theory envisioned.

Andrew Latham is a professor of political science, Macalester College.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.