Colonel Baños: From Defense Minister Candidate to Apocalypse Prophet

Colonel Baños: Seven live streams in two days and 400,000 viewers

A YouTube program with around 700 views. And, in parallel, seven broadcasts over two days totaling more than 400,000 viewers. These two figures belong to the same man, Colonel Baños, and summarize the phenomenon better than any biography: a retired military officer who has made international tension his livelihood. Every time the Middle East heats up, his name reappears in search engines. His flagship prediction—World War III—remains undated, but the business does not.

Who is Colonel Baños and why is he called the Mozart of geopolitics?

Baños is a retired military officer turned commentator. He—or his circle of trinc—is credited with the nickname "Mozart of geopolitics," a label critics consider pure self-promotion that only holds if one was already convinced. His media debut came with the concept of unrestricted war: the idea that conflicts are no longer fought solely with soldiers and tanks, but with cyberattacks, disinformation, economic pressure, and migration flows.

None of this is new. Any Western or Russian military manual from the last two decades discusses "gray zone operations" or "full-spectrum warfare." He packaged it with a more commercial name and sold it as a revelation. That is the key to everything: he offers narrative, not doctrine.

Unrestricted war and the half-fulfilled forecast

His defenders have an argument that cannot be dismissed with a joke. About five years ago, he maintained that wars would no longer be like before, that they would be unrestricted. Shortly after, Ukraine began. Yet what arrived was a conventional textbook war: trenches, tanks, artillery, casualties counted in the thousands. The scenario he painted and the one that materialized do not fully align.

Much of the controversy stems from this mismatch. For some, he anticipated the general framework of the new century. For others, he guessed correctly due to vagueness: a prediction broad enough for anyone to fill in as they please. When prophecy is elastic, there is always a way to present it as fulfilled.

The Defense Minister post he never held

Among his most cited credentials is having been on the verge of being named Minister of Defense during the current government. It is claimed the appointment was halted by a direct phone call from London, a version circulating without documentary confirmation. Like his entire public career, it moves between fact and legend.

It is worth distinguishing. That a media-savvy military figure is considered for a portfolio is politics, not strategy. That he ultimately did not get it is also politics. What remains for analysis is the rest: his intellectual output. There, the balance is more debatable, and certain circles place him in the orbit of conspiratorial commentary rather than military science.

Audience, contracts, and the catastrophe business

The numbers are stubborn. Seven live streams in two days. More than 400,000 accumulated viewers. A contract with Movistar for a program that, in its YouTube version, is watched by around 700 people. The gap between these figures—TV audience versus digital niche—explains why some speak of a "lucrative business": selling catastrophe to an aging, disillusioned audience wanting to feel informed.

The most repeated criticism points to monetization. Each video ends with a pitch to watch the full piece via an external link. The apocalypse, conveniently dosed, becomes a conversion funnel. Several commentators summarize it with irony: he hit the jackpot with this war.

From prophet to snake oil salesman: the character's wear

The persona has consumed the analyst. Among the harshest criticisms are his collaborations: co-writing with Estulin—an airport bestseller author—or sitting down with Mario Conde for a chat among geniuses. To his detractors, this is his trademark: mixing real data with fiction and presenting it as forbidden analysis hidden by mainstream media.

Ideological opportunism also weighs heavily. He is placed indistinctly in the pro-Russian or anti-Russian camp depending on the headline, while he defends himself by saying he is neither pro-Russian nor pro-Ukrainian, that he only cares about Spain and Spaniards. The mix—military, devout Christian, and establishment critic—confuses both friends and strangers. It is unclear which side he leans toward.

Around this issue, another debate has taken shape: whether certain public officials—military officers, judges, senior civil servants—should remain anonymous to the population. The argument is that knowing such a person was close to leading national defense reassures no one.

The underlying question remains, unanswered by hard data: when the next crisis subsides and the phone stops ringing, will there still be someone willing to buy his end-of-the-world narrative?