Technology, power and the illusion of sovereignty

The attack on Venezuela and the subsequent capture of Mandora along with his wife by American SEALs is a grim reminder that, in international politics, might still sets the rules of the game. Weakness — real or perceived — continues to invite aggression. This enduring reality is best illustrated by the classical fable of the lion and the lamb.

The lion and the lamb stood at opposite ends of a pond. The lion, intent on devouring the lamb, accused him of polluting the water. The lamb replied that it was impossible, as the water flowed from the lion's side to his. The lion then alleged that the lamb had done the same thing the previous year. When the lamb responded that he had not even been born then, the lion claimed it must have been his mother — and without further justification, attacked and ate him.

This fable succinctly captures the logic of power politics: when outcomes are predetermined by strength; reason, legality and morality become mere pretexts.

Throughout history, superpowers armed with lethal force and cutting-edge technology have devised sophisticated means to advance their interests, subdue defiance and discipline those who refuse to submit to their sphere of influence. Diplomatic pressure, economic coercion, covert operations, regime change and direct military intervention are merely different instruments of the same orchestra of dominance. What changes across eras is not the impulse to dominate, but the technology through which dominance is exercised.

History is replete with such examples. In the case of the United States, the Monroe Doctrine stands as a glaring illustration. Proclaimed by President James Monroe in 1823, it asserted that European powers must not interfere in the affairs of the Western Hemisphere, which was declared off-limits for further colonisation. In return, the United States pledged non-interference in European affairs.

Though presented as a defensive measure, the doctrine's real significance lay in asserting American primacy in the Americas. Over time — particularly with the Roosevelt Corollary — it evolved into a justification for direct intervention in Latin America. Thus, a principle ostensibly meant to protect sovereignty gradually became an instrument to enforce dominance, leaving behind a complex and often bitter legacy.

A similar logic of spheres of influence unfolded in the Middle East. Initially, European powers — especially Britain, France and Italy — carved up the region to secure oil reserves and safeguard maritime trade routes connecting Europe with Asia. After World War II, as European power waned, this strategic vacuum was decisively filled by the United States, which reshaped the region's political, military and economic architecture through alliances, bases, energy control and technological superiority.

Earlier still, in the Great Game of the 18th and 19th centuries, Britain employed the same strategy in Afghanistan to counter the expanding influence of the Tsarist Empire, and later the Soviet Union. British policymakers believed that any increase in Russian influence would proportionately diminish British power. If left unchecked, it would trigger a domino effect threatening imperial possessions such as India. Afghanistan thus became a buffer state — not by choice, but by geography, vulnerability and technological disparity.

What unites these episodes over the last three centuries is the decisive role of technological superiority. Nations that mastered advanced military, industrial and logistical technologies overwhelmed others — whether in World War I, World War II, or later conflicts. Technology has always been the silent arbiter of power.

In the contemporary era, however, technology has assumed an even more central role. Cyber warfare, drones, satellite surveillance, artificial intelligence, precision strikes, information manipulation and economic technologies such as sanctions and financial control systems now allow powerful states to impose their will without formal declarations of war. Sovereignty is no longer undermined solely through invasion; it is eroded through control of airspace, data, finance, narratives and diplomatic legitimacy.

This reality was explored in my article "Doha Summit and the Mughal Parallel," published in these columns. Drawing on the decline of the Mughal Empire, the article argued that loss of real power precedes loss of formal authority. The Mughals continued to rule in name, but technological stagnation — particularly in military organisation, firearms, logistics and administration — left them vulnerable to the East India Company. The Company did not initially conquer the empire by force; instead, it embedded itself within existing structures, controlled revenue streams, influenced succession and gradually hollowed out sovereignty from within.

The Doha Summit reflected a similar pattern. It was not merely a peace process but a managed transition shaped by asymmetric power, much of it technological. While local actors appeared central to the negotiations, real leverage lay with those who controlled intelligence, airspace, financial flows, sanctions regimes and international recognition. As with the Mughal parallel, negotiations served less to determine outcomes than to legitimise outcomes already shaped elsewhere.

In both historical and contemporary cases, authority survived symbolically, but control had shifted. The lesson is unmistakable: decline does not begin with defeat; it begins with technological lag and institutional inertia. Once a state loses command over the instruments that shape decision-making — whether revenue systems in the Mughal era or digital, military and economic technologies today — it becomes vulnerable to external manipulation.

The lion, then, need not invent convincing accusations. Technology ensures that the lamb is already cornered.

In conclusion, from the fable of the lion and the lamb, through imperial doctrines and great games, to the Doha Summit and modern hybrid warfare, the pattern remains unchanged. Power respects strength, and in every era, strength is defined by technology. Those who master it write the rules; those who fall behind are left to appeal to law, morality and history — often after the outcome has already been decided.