In the early hours of Saturday, January 3, Caracas went dark. Power failed across much of the city as strikes and cyber-attacks disabled critical systems. What followed was not a conventional invasion, but one of the most audacious special forces operations in modern history. Within hours, Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, had been seized from the heart of Venezuela’s largest military complex.
No tanks rolled through the streets. No territory was occupied. The operation succeeded not through brute force alone, but because of something far more decisive: overwhelming American dominance of intelligence, networks, surveillance and infrastructure.
Power rests less on the capacity to destroy than on the capacity to observe, predict and compress decision cycles
The raid on Fuerte Tiuna was the visible end of a campaign that had begun months earlier. Intelligence officers had infiltrated Venezuela, mapping patterns of life and monitoring critical communications. Signals intelligence, cyber penetration and overhead surveillance were fused with human sources on the ground, producing a real-time picture of Maduro’s movements and vulnerabilities. Compounds were reconstructed; rehearsals conducted against precise replicas.
Crucially, the operational environment had already been shaped. Communications were disrupted, infrastructure constrained and decision-making effectively paralyzed before the first shot was fired. The kinetic phase succeeded because technological dominance had already set the conditions for action. This was not the sort of warfare we’ve become accustomed to. There was no grinding campaign of attrition. Instead, the decisive advantage lay in the United States’ ability to predict reactions and act faster than the adversary could respond.
The lesson here is simple, but profound. Military hardware remains at the heart of any successful operation, but it is no longer sufficient on its own. Guns, ships and aircraft now serve as executors of advantages won elsewhere – in data, networks and intelligence. It should be clear to everyone now, after Caracas, that power today rests less on the capacity to destroy than on the capacity to observe, predict and compress decision cycles. Yet the language of geopolitics has not kept up. Hard power is still framed in terms of kinetic force; soft power as persuasion. This is frustrating and immensely counterproductive. It’s also symptomatic of a dangerous refusal to understand the modern world. Coercion no longer depends primarily on the scale of violence a state can inflict, but on whether it can make violence unnecessary by shaping the battlefield in advance.
This systemic shift has been driven by rapid advances in technology. The computing power available to train machine-learning systems has increased by orders of magnitude over the past decade, far outstripping the pace of advances in traditional military hardware. The result is a new competitive space in which advantage flows from data aggregation, processing speed and integration, rather than from platform numbers alone. Caracas showed that the United States can exploit this environment at scale.
This integration is a product of intense cooperation with the private sector. Many of the most consequential innovations in data analytics, artificial intelligence and network management now emerge from commercial firms, imbued with national pride. America’s advantage lies in its ability to absorb and operationalize these tools at scale. Platforms such as Palantir are capable of aggregating intelligence from disparate sources, identifying patterns and feeding insights directly into planning – enhancing decision-making.
In under a year, Washington has executed three major military actions: precision strikes against Iranian nuclear facilities, large-scale retaliatory operations in Syria following attacks on US forces, and now Caracas. Each relied on persistent global surveillance, instantaneous data fusion and seamless coordination across air, cyber, space and special operations forces. It is an integrated contest in which information dominance determines effectiveness. No other power can credibly sustain this level of operational intensity.
The war in Ukraine offers a slower, bloodier illustration of the same logic. Commercial drones, paired with advanced analytics, have transformed reconnaissance and strike operations. Electronic warfare has proliferated as both sides seek to blind, jam and disrupt. Success has often hinged not on sheer mass but on seamless integration: who can connect sensors to shooters faster, shorten decision cycles and adapt more quickly. Caracas showed this model in action; the outcome was decided before the first helicopter touched down.
What, then, is the lesson for America’s allies? In Britain, the US’s closest security partner, intelligence is world-class, but insight alone is not enough. MI6 warns of a persistent gray-zone threat to the nation, consisting of cyberattacks and aggressive military activity. Yet, without the hard assets to act – offensive cyber, resilient space systems and special forces ready for high-risk operations – even the best intelligence cannot shape outcomes.
To deter aggression and operate independently, America’s allies must accelerate their investments and learn from the American example. Modern operations demand mastery across land, sea, air, cyber and space, woven together in real time. Technology and intelligence are decisive only when paired with the assets and capacity necessary to act.
The deeper truth is that technology amplifies hard power – it does not replace it. Intelligence provides knowledge; technology delivers reach and speed; conventional forces produce effect. Caracas showed this vividly: when technology magnifies intelligence and force, complex operations can be executed in hours, opportunities seized and risks contained in ways weaker powers cannot match. Russia and China understand this and are racing to replicate it. The West’s advantage will endure only with sustained investment, relentless innovation and, above all, the political will to use it.
This article was originally published in The Spectator’s January 19, 2026 World edition.
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