One of the remarkable things about Admiral Nelson’s extraordinary successes against Napoleon’s French Navy (arguably the “Big Tech” of the late 1700s) is how a British admiral repeatedly used the same or similar tactics to great effect. He wasn’t so much surprising his enemies as teaching them the same lesson over and over, because they were so overconfident as to be bad at learning.
A key characteristic of military leadership under Napoleon—where the self-proclaimed “emperor” continually eliminated competent officers and replaced them with subordinates demonstrably loyal to him—made the French more vulnerable to Nelson’s hallmark strategic attacks.
For example, in both the Battle of the Nile and Trafalgar, the French (and Spanish) relied on extremely large ships at the center of their line that badly absorbed the brunt of Nelson’s favorite tactic: concentrated and localized fire.
Adding insult to injury, the oversized ships suffered from reduced maneuverability compared to their British attackers. Nelson’s strategy of breaking the line was made even more effective, his targets sitting like ducks.
To put it simply, when Nelson’s 14 ships approached a line of 14 enemy ships of far greater size, he would pierce their line and put 14 of his more agile and experienced craft (firing at a rate of 3 to 2) against only 7 of the enemy. His basic pick-apart and target attack math is trivial to understand, which is why and how his men could press on in battle so independently. In the Nile case, the French foolishly only manned one side of their ships (on the false assumption they were sheltered to lee by the shore) such that Nelson’s two-sided assault became especially effective.
Perhaps most notable was the collapse of coordination and communication within the French fleets. Once their line was broken and subjected to concentrated fire, Nelson maintained a relentless, unified theory of localized assault, while the French struggled to devise any effective counter-strategy other than to fade away. Perhaps ironically, Napoleon used the same tactics on land against the Italians and Austrians yet lacked any competence or translation to sea.
The absolute defeat of French naval forces in both the Nile and Trafalgar was lopsided, swift, and devastating to the soft underbelly of Napoleon.
It’s a lesson that resonates today, where even the largest AI platforms, under attack by aggressive and nimble adversaries—like with Napoleon’s easily routed naval juggernauts—are seemingly setup and operated to invite catastrophic breaches.
Big Tech in a race to create the biggest AI platforms possible and stuff their leadership with adherents to a CEO recalls the fate of the gargantuan L’Orient in 1798, blown apart off the coast of Egypt, sinking France’s entire “unsinkable” campaign fortune.
And lest anyone forget, Nelson’s swift lopsided victories at both the Nile and Trafalgar were supported by an exceptional depth of talent.
Vice-Admiral Cuthbert Collingwood, a name almost nobody remembers yet who earned THREE Naval gold medals, perhaps deserves even more credit for applying the aggressive line-breaking localized fire tactics than Nelson himself at Trafalgar.
Are you now saying Collingwho? Here are some fun history facts about the underappreciated “Salt Junk and Sixpenny” (cheap food and booze) Collingwood who rose out of poverty to become one of the most decorated Admirals in history: Denied his first gold medal on a technicality, he protested and was awarded it retroactively after earning his second. Though excluded from a role in the Nile rout, he led the charge at Trafalgar and is credited with preserving the entire British fleet during both the battle and a subsequent horrific storm. Allegedly, even after suffering the loss of their fleet, the Spanish respected his executive actions so much that his leadership helped them overthrow the French. While Nelson inspired his fleet with strategic brilliance and daring tactics, Collingwood was a hard-core system administrator who excelled in operations—Nelson wisely deployed his vice-admiral as a man capable of fighting harder and better than any fleet three times his size.
Collingwood was a tough, resourceful individual who rose from humble, rough conditions to achieve the highest awards and greatness despite his modest background. He was much more modest than an attention-seeking Nelson, preferring to focus on smooth operations and combat discipline rather than seeking fame or fortunes. He was even criticized for not being more aggressive about hunting foreign treasure and bounty in combat. His steady, reliable command did not seek the spotlight given he felt success was best measured as victory in combat—hence why his amazing historic contributions, though significant, are often unknown.
So who will historians look back upon and discuss as the Collingwood of our day, the quiet hero who routed the Napoleon(s) of Big Tech AI?
