Team Trump Promises ‘Shock and Awe.’ Do They Know What That Means?
The three-decade-old concept didn’t survive first contact with the enemy.
THE MEMO HAS CLEARLY GONE OUT: The phrase the incoming Trump administration is using to describe its opening days is “shock and awe.” Tom Homan, the incoming designated border czar, when asked during an interview on ABC what illegal immigrants should expect, repeated “Shock and awe” twice, with a smile. Sen. John Barrasso said the new president would initiate a “blizzard of executive orders” on the economy and border security, creating “shock and awe.” Fox News host Bret Baier said the administration’s strategy had been described to him as “shock and awe.” Each time I hear that phrase, I suppress a smile—or maybe a grimace. I remember the first time I heard it, and I know well the experiences of those in the military who had to execute that concept. To put it diplomatically: Initial intensity without long-term planning and coordination will likely not result in desired outcomes. It’s easy to talk about, harder to execute.
In 1997, I was a student at the National War College just across the Potomac River from Reagan National Airport. It was there that our class was introduced to the 1996 book Shock and Awe: Achieving Rapid Dominance by Harlan Ullman, a career naval officer and 1963 graduate of the Naval Academy, now a senior advisor at the Atlantic Council, and the late James Wade, a career Army officer, West Point class of 1953, and later a noted military writer. Building on lessons learned from the military victories in Operation Just Cause in Panama and Operation Desert Storm in Iraq, Ullman and Wade described a concept they claimed would result in success on any future battlefield. The technological revolution in warfare—precision munitions, stealth technology, night vision, digital information sharing—was offering young officers like my classmates and me a new way of warfare. The concept of “shock and awe”—or “rapid dominance,” as it was formally known—became a touchstone.
The key to rapid dominance is to gain advantage over an adversary through overwhelming firepower, precise maneuver, unrelenting speed, continuous situational awareness of both friendly and enemy forces, and brilliance in execution. The concept’s defining characteristic: paralyze the enemy’s decision-making process and force immediate surrender by delivering such overwhelming force that resistance is futile.
Rapid dominance had four key components. First, for victory, a commander and his troops would need absolute knowledge about the enemy and the environment in which they were fighting, while also having complete self-awareness of their strengths, vulnerabilities, capabilities, and decision-making abilities. Second, the commander would have complete control of operational tempo while also perfectly synchronizing their force’s actions. If those first two requirements weren’t challenging enough, the next component tasked the battlefield commander with precisely monitoring every action on an ever-changing battlefield. And for the fourth component, the professor describing this concept to our class said that joint (and potentially multinational) forces and their commanders must continuously demonstrate operational brilliance in planning and execution while also controlling the entire operational environment: terrain, intelligence, actions of the enemy, weather, and maneuver. That’s the expectation of future leaders, the lecturer said in closing. Doing all this would impose on any enemy “a desired state of helplessness and a lack of will to continue the fight.”
I don’t remember which professor gave the lecture, but I do remember a Marine sitting next to me leaning over to whisper, “perhaps this professor who’s never worn the uniform doesn’t understand how tough it really is in combat.” Having recently fought in Desert Storm and experienced the fog of war and how chance, a lack of situational awareness, and poor intelligence play a part in battle, I couldn’t help but agree.
UNLIKE HOMAN, BARRASSO, and other members of Trump’s team and party, I have never been involved in electoral politics or domestic policy. But I think the point stands: If your plan calls for your side being all-knowing, all-powerful, perfect in execution, and immune to surprise—when you’re working with human beings and you presume your enemy is stupid, weak, and all but inanimate—the plan probably isn’t worth all that much.
The rest of that war college year, we studied and debated rapid dominance as an operational concept, citing its strengths but also noting its potential weakness. It was certainly a model that commanders might use to strive for excellence and attain victory on the battlefield. But none of us knew just how challenging it might be. That is, until a few years later. I next heard the term “shock and awe” in 2003, during a planning session at the Pentagon. General Tommy Franks, the commander of Central Command, had his team working on the plan for the invasion of Iraq. In a sidebar during his guidance, he made his thoughts on using the term “shock and awe” crystal clear. He was never fond of that phrase, he explained, because it was too simplistic and it didn’t accurately capture the difficulties facing his force—with some saltier language thrown in for emphasis.
He was right. In March 2003, during the first hours of Operational Iraqi Freedom, the predicted “shock and awe” seemed apparent as cable news feeds from Baghdad showed massive and simultaneous strikes against scores of key targets in and around the city. The Iraqi military and governmental command and control seemed crippled, the Iraqi army appeared confused and dysfunctional, and the will of the Iraqi citizens and governmental leaders all seemed weakened by the early blows. Even though there were also notable failures, like the Dora Farms strike, it seemed impressive. But that didn’t last long.
While the early strikes reflected rapid dominance, the ground operations toward Baghdad were soon filled with surprises as well as challenges in coordination and synchronization, plus the fog of war all military campaigns experience. And over the next decade, American and coalition forces—of which I was a part on several occasions—shifted from a conventional fight against a totalitarian state to an asymmetric one against a complex counterinsurgency with political and social challenges, then to a counterterrorism fight against myriad groups from al Qaeda to ISIS. The costs to the United States were significant: a financial burden exceeding $2 trillion, growing domestic distrust of the government, declining public support for the war, strained international alliances, and greater regional instability—in addition to more than 4,000 combat deaths, more than 31,000 wounded, and untold numbers of suicides related to combat’s emotional trauma.
SHOCK AND AWE HAS NOW BEEN ASSOCIATED, metaphorically, to describe the political strategies aimed at achieving rapid and transformative change in government, bold rhetoric and dramatic initiatives to overwhelm political opponents, capture public attention, and consolidate power. A flurry of executive orders, proposed radical policy changes, or contested high-profile appointments to signal decisiveness may create party momentum, attempt to overwhelm the opposition, and establish a dominant messaging narrative. Just using the term “shock and awe” before implementing it can create a sense of omnipotence and inevitability.
But I’d suggest these political activities and the rumored actions of a new administration might become fraught with the same kinds of results we found during military operations. Because war and government actions are both always complex and fraught with human interactions. Both often rely on the element of surprise and overwhelming force to achieve objectives. Both may aim to disorient and demoralize opponents while consolidating power or control. Yet, both also face challenges, including underestimating the complexity of the environment, a rapidly adapting “enemy” (or opposing political party, or other elements of the population), and a huge potential for unintended consequences. Whether on the battlefield or in the political arena, the success of “shock and awe” depends not only on the seemingly overwhelming initial action but also on the ability to navigate the long-term implications of rapid and desired transformative actions.
In other words, in combat—literal or metaphorical—with a determined opponent, “shock and awe” is tougher than it looks to execute and manage, and it by no means erases the potential for losing “battles” or suffering setbacks, strong reactions, and complications.
So you’ll forgive me if, based on experiences on the battlefield, I have to suppress a smile when I hear “shock and awe” being used by those in the political arena.
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