Chuck Norris as a renegade Texas Ranger in a scene from the film "Lone Wolf McQuade", 1983 (Topkick Productions/Getty Images)
“Chuck Norris facts” spread without coordination or design. That’s a lesson for anyone thinking about influence in the Indo-Pacific.
Subscribe to The Informer for monthly expert analysis, and to Events for advance notice of visiting world leaders and distinguished guests.
You may unsubscribe from Lowy Institute newsletters at any time. For information on our privacy practices and how to unsubscribe, see our Privacy Policy.
Chuck Norris doesn’t study influence operations. They study himChuck Norris doesn’t study influence operations. They study him
I watched the 1983 action film Lone Wolf McQuade on VHS a few years before I could drive. Seeing Chuck Norris power a vehicle out of his own grave made me want a Ford Bronco – not for its practicality, but because of its indestructibility, like Norris himself. The idea was clearly absurd, a supercharged internal combustion engine functioning after being buried beneath the ground and deprived of oxygen. That was not the point. It was an incredible feat that would underpin the many “Chuck Norris facts” that came to define the actor right up until his death last week, aged 86.
At a time when global narratives are increasingly framed by conflict and contest, Norris’s enduring cultural presence offers a quieter point of reflection on a form of influence that did not rely on either. As states increasingly seek to shape perceptions and behaviour across the Indo-Pacific, the question is not simply what messages are delivered, but which narratives are adopted.
With Norris’s passing, there is also a sense of loss – of something more wholesome, less contested and more readily shared. There is also a subtle awareness that something familiar has persisted, not just an actor, martial artist, or veteran, but an idea that had long outgrown its origin. For many, that idea was formed early and stayed.
Somewhere between his on-screen roles and the later proliferation of “Chuck Norris doesn’t do push-ups, he pushes the Earth down” style memes, a cultural phenomenon emerged that no studio designed and no institution directed. It spread without coordination and persisted without maintenance, achieving a level of recognition that most formal influence efforts struggle to replicate.
Influence is not sustained by precision. It is sustained by adoption.
It was not persuasive in any conventional sense. It was not argued or explained, nor was it particularly plausible. It simply resonated, and once it did so, it no longer required reinforcement.
This distinction is frequently missed. Contemporary approaches to cultivating influence in international affairs continue to prioritise control of message, platform, audience and timing – often at the expense of understanding what makes a narrative endure. Considerable effort is devoted to synchronisation and consistency. Far less is given to whether a narrative will be adopted.
The Norris phenomenon illustrates the gap. The so-called “facts” were not centrally authored or distributed. They were generated, adapted, and sustained by the audience itself. Their content varied, but their underlying theme remained consistent: certainty, capability, inevitability. The format was simple, repeatable, and open-ended. Anyone could contribute. Everyone could recognise it.
Various memes showing “Chuck Norris facts”
Influence is not sustained by precision. It is sustained by adoption.
Framed as humour, these narratives lowered resistance rather than triggered it. They did not need to persuade. They were easy to repeat. In doing so, they transformed audiences into participants and participants into amplifiers.
Once adopted, a narrative no longer depends on its originator. It persists because it has been internalised, adapted, and normalised. Control becomes secondary and, in many cases, irrelevant.
For policymakers, particularly those engaged in great-power competition, the implication is clear: influence efforts that prioritise control over adoption risk producing messages that are seen but not sustained.
This presents an uncomfortable tension – one that is familiar in practice. Institutional approaches tend to equate effectiveness with coordination and oversight. Yet narratives that resonate most strongly often do so precisely because they are not perceived as controlled. They are encountered as shared, and therefore more credible.
This is not an argument for abandoning structure or intent. Nor does it ignore the risks. Narratives that detach from reality can distort as easily as they can inform. They can be co-opted or reduced to parody. Influence without control is powerful, but it is not inherently aligned.
Norris recognised the narrative that had formed around him and, counterintuitively, leant into it without overplaying it. His appearances across film, television, advertising and other media acknowledged the persona without attempting to control it, reinforcing a narrative that remained shared rather than owned.
The lesson is measured. Control may shape initial conditions, but it does not guarantee endurance. Resonance does. Repeatability does. The ability of a narrative to be taken up by others, and to survive beyond its point of origin, is what ultimately determines its reach.
Although he already carried a near-mythic persona, Norris did not set out to become a case study in influence. His public image was grounded in discipline, service and a particular era of cinema. What followed extended well beyond biography. It became something collectively constructed and sustained, independent of any formal design.
Like McQuade, he did not need to explain himself. The effect was understood, repeated and sustained, long after the point of control had passed – and now the man himself, too – but with the legend still intact, an outcome that formal influence efforts continue to struggle to replicate.
About the author
Paul Pelczar
Paul Pelczar OAM has broad experience in intelligence, cyber and information operations across joint and maritime environments.
The most-pressing world events explained by Lowy Institute experts and global contributors, in your inbox, every Thursday.
You may unsubscribe from The Interpreter at any time. For information on our privacy practices and how to unsubscribe, see our Privacy Policy.