How Today's Anxious Corporations Mirror Baudrillard's Declining Military Powers
By Jean Nedell
3 min read
In 1991, French philosopher Jean Baudrillard provocatively argued that the Gulf War "did not take place"—not in the traditional sense. What the world witnessed was spectacle: a carefully choreographed media event designed to simulate power rather than demonstrate it. Precision strikes broadcast live, smart bombs with cameras, minimal risk—all performed for an audience rather than strategic necessity.
Baudrillard observed that declining powers, anxious about waning influence, increasingly relied on "micro-militarism": small, manageable conflicts packaged as decisive victories. The weaker the actual position, the greater the need for spectacular proof of strength.
Three decades later, walk into any corporate boardroom, and you'll witness the same phenomenon.
The Quarterly Spectacle
Today's anxious corporations have perfected their own version of micro-militarism. Facing market saturation or disruption, they've learned that the appearance of strength matters more than strength itself. The result is an endless parade of announcements, pivots, and carefully staged victories that signify everything except actual strategic health.
The pattern is familiar: A legacy technology company, watching its core business mature, suddenly discovers artificial intelligence. Not the hard work of actually building AI capabilities—that takes years. Instead, the company launches an AI initiative with maximum fanfare: glitzy presentations, breathless press releases about "transformation."
Existing features are rebranded as "AI-powered." Minor machine learning tools become "revolutionary breakthroughs." The stock jumps. Analysts approve. Leadership celebrates.
Six months later, the initiative has quietly faded, replaced by the next spectacular announcement. The metaverse, perhaps. Or blockchain. Or whatever buzzword distracts from the uncomfortable truth: the core business is in managed decline.
This is corporate micro-militarism. Like Baudrillard's declining military powers, these companies choose their battles not for strategic value, but for guaranteed media victories.
The Inverse Power Law
Here's the paradox: the frequency of announced victories is inversely proportional to actual competitive strength.
Companies with genuine momentum rarely manufacture excitement. Apple doesn't announce a "strategic AI pivot" every quarter because it doesn't need to convince anyone it's relevant. Its products speak.
But companies in decline can't afford silence. They're trapped in what Baudrillard called the "hyperreal"—a simulated version of success maintained through spectacular gestures disconnected from underlying reality.
The signs are everywhere: constant rebranding presented as transformation, acquisition sprees sold as innovation, metrics that change quarterly as old ones reveal decline. Each announcement is designed for maximum media impact. Each earnings call is choreographed performance. The simulation must continue.
Innovation Theater and the Death of Strategy
The most insidious aspect of corporate micro-militarism is how it corrupts strategic thinking. When the primary objective becomes managing perception rather than building value, resources flow toward spectacle instead of substance.
Marketing budgets swell while R&D stagnates. Leadership spends more time on investor presentations than understanding customers. The best minds focus on crafting narratives instead of solving problems.
This is innovation theater: the simulation of innovation designed to satisfy analysts and reassure investors—without the risk, investment, or patience that actual innovation requires.
A legacy retailer announces a partnership with a hot startup to "revolutionize the shopping experience." Press release. Stock bump. Town hall celebration. Eighteen months later, nothing has fundamentally changed, but there's a new announcement about sustainability initiatives.
The company hasn't transformed. It's performed transformation.
The Credibility Recession
Every micro-militaristic victory that fails to materialize erodes trust. Employees grow cynical. Customers tune out. Investors discount the hype. The simulation requires ever-more spectacular gestures to maintain the illusion.
This is how once-great companies die—not with a bang but with a press release. They become so invested in the spectacle of success that they lose the ability to pursue actual success.
The Market for Sincerity
Meanwhile, the companies eating their lunch often eschew spectacle entirely. They're too busy solving real problems to worry about quarterly victories. They let results speak rather than announcements.
The market is beginning to notice. Investors are learning to be suspicious of companies that announce too much. Employees are fleeing organizations trapped in transformation theater. Customers gravitate toward products that work rather than spectacular launch events.
There's a market opportunity in sincerity, it turns out. In a world of corporate micro-militarism, simply being honest about your challenges becomes a competitive advantage.
Beyond the Spectacle
The path out requires something painful: admitting the simulation isn't working. Acknowledging that quarterly spectacles haven't arrested decline. Accepting that the next pivot won't magically restore growth.
It means doing unsexy work: understanding why customers are leaving, fixing broken products, rebuilding organizational capabilities, making hard choices about what business you're actually in.
Most companies won't make this choice. The simulation is too comforting, the spectacle too familiar. They'll continue their micro-militaristic campaigns, celebrating small victories while the larger war slips away.
But some will. They'll recognize that their endless stream of announcements signals weakness, not strength. They'll understand that the spectacle itself has become the problem.
Those companies—the ones that choose reality over simulation, substance over spectacle—those are the ones that might actually survive.
The rest will keep announcing victories until there's nothing left to defend.
The question isn't whether your company engages in micro-militarism. In today's market, almost everyone does to some degree. The question is whether you've noticed—and whether you have the courage to stop.
