The Useless Tree

Sunzi and Soft Power

I guess when you get quoted in The Economist you should post a link to the story.  And so, here it is: Sun Tzu and the art of soft power. (I don't appear until about 2/3 of the way down).

The gist of the piece is that China has been barking up the wrong soft power tree (so to speak) in its attempts to develop Confucianism into a soft power resource:

But Confucius is problematic. Mao and his colleagues regarded Confucius’s philosophy as the ideological glue of the feudal system they destroyed; and so attempts to promote him are vulnerable to the growing split in the Communist Party. In January, with great fanfare, the National History Museum unveiled a bronze statue of him standing 9.5 metres (31 feet) high in front of its entrance by Tiananmen Square. Three months later the statue was quietly removed. The sage’s appearance so close to the most hallowed ground of Chinese communism had outraged hardliners. They saw it as an affront to Mao, whose giant portrait hung diagonally opposite.

As regular readers of The Useless Tree (both of you) know, I have pressed this argument further, and anyone interested in just how far I press it can look at this post on "Why Confucianism will not provide 'soft power' to the PRC" 

I also think The Economist piece gets it right on Sunzi.  Generally, Sunzi is easier to integrate into contemporary modernist and post-modernist political and social practices.  Indeed, it has already been so integrated, as evidenced by its invocation in business and military and political and, even, dating books (I haven't read it - obviously - but I'm sure Confucianism will not produce a title quite like this: The Art of War for Dating: Master Sun Tzu's Tactics To Win Over Women).  This may seem frivolous but I think that "soft power" cultural resources have to be flexible and popular and fun to create the kind of "attractiveness" that the notion implies.  And, long story short, that is a big part of the reason why Confucianism is just not working as a source of soft power: it is too serious and demanding.  

But Sunzi, as the article suggests, poses a problem for the PRC's soft power strategy, because it does not project the image of China that Party propagantists want to project.  Notice these line:

Sun Tzu may have written about stratagems for warfare, but Huimin’s [in Shandong province] assembled scholars prefer to tout him as a peacenik. Their evidence is one of the sage’s best-known insights: “The skilful leader subdues the enemy’s troops without any fighting.” What better proof, say his fans in China, that the country has always loved peace?

Of course Sunzi is not a "peacenik".  He is a military strategist who believed that battles can be avoided if the protagonist has amassed such superior power and strategic positioning that the adversary simply recognizes the futility of a fight.  It is a very "hard power" calculation.  But the idea that China has "always loved peace" is a political and historical fiction inscribed into contemporary Chinese national identity, and it is a theme that Party and military powerholders find useful in propagating, especially to other regional states, like Vietnam and Japan, that are concerned with the growth of PRC military capabilities. 

Thus the paradox of Sunzi's "soft power:" the strategic vision of Sunzi is widely known and studied and respected, but it creates an image of China as a potentially devious, deceptive (remember, for Sunzi, war, and by Clausewitzian extension, politics, is all about deception) and self-interested power, not quite the picture Beijing wants to paint.  Better to have the avuncular smile of Confucius than the calculating glare of Sunzi...

And here, for posterity, is the textual equivalent of fifteen minutes of Economist fame:

Yet a closer look reveals Sun Tzu’s flaws as a tool of soft power. Chinese attempts to remould him as a man of peace stumble over the fact that his book is a guide to winning wars, avidly studied by America’s armed forces as it was by Mao. Sam Crane of Williams College in Massachusetts says that during the Abu Ghraib prison scandal in Iraq he delighted in telling students attending his Sun Tzu classes (some of whom were preparing to join the army) that the “Art of War” advised that prisoners be treated kindly. But, he says, “I think the thing that makes [the book] universal in a grim way is war and competition. War is not a Western construct: the Chinese have been really good at war for a long time.”

Derek Jeter is a Sunzi Warrior, not a Confucian Gentleman

Captain of the New York Yankees, shortstop Derek Jeter, last week feigned that he had been hit by a pitch and was awarded first base.  He hammed it up a bit but, as replays clearly demonstrated, he had not been hit.  Thus he successfully deceived the umpires and gained a momentary advantage for his team (the Yankees went on to ultimately lose the game).

So what?  Well, it seems that some people (I suspect many of them disheartened Red Sox fans...) are calling Jeter a cheater.  His actions, they seem to suggest, fall outside the usual and traditional practices of the game.  But this is not true.  Listen to what life-long baseball people say:

“I cannot understand what the commotion is,” said the Fox baseball broadcaster Tim McCarver, a former major league catcher, as he took stock of the uproar.

“Why question that?” he said of Jeter’s actions. “I can’t believe anyone would say that’s cheating.”

Minnesota Twin's Manager Ron Gardenhire, whose team has lost repeatedly to Jeter’s Yankee's in the post season, agreed.

“You have to be an actor in this game, you have to be,” he said. “It’s unfortunate, but it’s part of the game. Jeter, you could see him staring over there in the video, sly as a cat. It’s just the way it is. Call it what you want to call it, it happens. It’s happened forever.”

As some commentators, along with Gardenhire, have rightly pointed out, deception is a part of virtually all sports (save, perhaps, golf):

Now, about the morality of sport generally and baseball particularly. To begin with, deception is inherent to competition and it is fundamental to games of all types, including hide and seek and chess. (One thing that has gotten buried in the seriousness of the Jeter hoopla is that fooling people can be fun.)

Second, that one player or one team might be interested in putting one over on an opponent is one reason, a big reason, that organized sports have officials — who have no expectation, by the way, that the players are guided by the honor system.

Yes, there is such a thing as good sportsmanship.  But occasional deception does not explode the boundaries of sportsmanship.

Thus, baseball, and professional sports more generally, is something close to the strategic conflict that Sunzi presumes, as opposed to the ideal human-ethical contexts that Confucius theorizes.

It is Sunzi who tells us that "all warfare is based on deception" (I.17).  Winning the battle, and ultimately the war, matter; and in a ruthlessly instrumental manner, actions are judged in terms of how well they help gain that outcome. 

Confucius understands this.  He wards us away from engaging in warfare precisely because he knows that it is a context that corrodes ethical standards.  In a similar vein he also tells us not to get caught up in competitive sports:

The Master said: "The noble-minded never contend.  It's true that archery is a kind of contention.  But even then, they bow and yield to each other when stepping up to the range.  And when they step down, they toast each other.  Even in contention, they retain their nobility. (3.7)

The key here is that gentlemen never contend.  They do not get caught up in the winning or losing.  For Confucius it is all about maintaining proper behavior in all circumstances.  And competitive sports, which by definition require contention, are simply out of bounds.

Confucius shares this dim view of competition with Zhuangzi:

Games of skill and chance begin in a light mood, but they always end up dark and serious.  And if things go far enough, it's nothing but guile.  Drinking at ceremonies begins orderly enough, but it always ends up wild and chaotic.  And if things go far enough, it's nothing but debauchery.  All of our human affairs seem to work like this.  However sincerely they begin, they end up in vile deceit.  And however simply they begin, they grow enormously complex before they're over. (55)

Both Confucius and Zhuangzi (though each in a rather different way) tell us that if we seek to live a good live, we should avoid unnecessary competitive situations.  And they would see competitive sports as unnecessary. 

To bring this back to Jeter (I have written of some of his Confucian qualities here), if we want to condemn him of some sort of significant moral transgression, then we might want to ask ourselves if competitive sports, which are a breeding ground for deception, ought to be outlawed.  Alternatively, if the pleasures of sports are seen as important, and its transgressions relatively inconsequential, then we should not be complaining about a bit of acting by Derek Jeter.

Oh, and by the way: Go Yankees!

Sun Tzu and the World Cup

I've watched a couple of World Cup matches (US/England; Brazil/NK; some of Spain/Switzerland) and Sun Tzu has come to mind....

On first thought, it is a bit difficult to apply Sun Tzu to soccer (football...).  The battle situations that he anticipates are more fluid than a sporting competition.  In soccer there is a very specific, unchanging objective: to score goals (or, conversely, to keep the adversary from scoring goals).  Everyone always knows that the prime objective is.  Thus, it is hard to see how this Sun Tzu idea can translate into soccer strategy:

To be certain to take what you attack is to attack a place the enemy does not protect.  To be certain to hold what you defend is to defend a place the enemy does not attack.

Therefore, against those skilled in attack, an enemy does not know where to defend; against experts in defense, the enemy does not know where to defend. VI.7,8.

Everyone knows, ultimately, where the attack will come in soccer: it is aimed quite intently on the goal.  And everyone knows where the defense will be concentrated - at least in those instances where one team is emphasizing the defense.  The field is too restricted, the rules too determinative, to allow for too much in the way of uncertainty about what will be attacked and what will be defended.

But there are Sun Tzu ideas that are more applicable.  This passage, for instance:

Anciently, the skillful warriors first made themselves invincible and awaited the enemy's moment of vulnerability.

Invincibility depends on one's self; the enemy's vulnerability on him.

It follows that those skilled in war can make themselves invincible but cannot cause an enemy to be certainly vulnerable.

Therefore, it is said that one may know how to win, but cannot necessarily do so.

Invincibility lies in the defense; the possibility of victory in the attack.

One defends when his strength is inadequate; he attacks when it is abundant. IV.1-7.

I think this very well captures the Brazil/NK game and the Spain/Switzerland game.  The North Koreans and the Swiss clearly understood themselves to be the weaker team in their respective competitions.  Their strength was inadequate, so they emphasized defense. In doing so, they were, at the outset, basically conceding an outright victory and were playing for a tie because they had to give up their attack - and, as Sun Tzu notes, the possibility of victory lies in the attack; if you hunker down in search of invincibility you give up the attack, and thus the chance for victory.  In such circumstances, not losing takes precedence over winning.

Sun Tzu would thus approve of the NK and Swiss strategies.

Things turned out better for the Swiss because the Spanish made themselves vulnerable.  Their relentless and fluid -and, yes, beautiful - attack eventually yielded an opening for the Swiss counter.  It was a bit ugly, but it worked.  Not so much for the North Koreans.  The Brazilians - with their signature beautiful play - maintained sufficient defensive presence (this, after all, has been Dunga's mantra).  Personally, i think all of the strum und drang about Brazil losing its panache is overblown.  Their interior passing and creativity are still better than any other (and that includes Spain...).  Robinho was marvelous.  In any event, it was a breakdown in the NK defense, a momentary hesitation by the goalkeeper, that opened the door for the first Brazilian score.  NK turned out not to be as invincible as they had hoped.

Here's one last thought.  For all of the talk about Brazilian defense, they maintained a relentless attack against NK.  Granted, they were the clearly superior team in all facets of the game, so, as Sun Tzu would say, an attacking posture was certainly appropriate.  But let's see what happens as we get further into the tournament and Brazil faces tougher teams, such as  Portugal.  It could be that Dunga is trying to get into the head of the adversary; make them think that Brazil will be hanging back, emphasizing defense.  This could encourage the Portuguese to come forward, creating certain vulnerabilities, that can be quickly exploited by the powerful Brazilian attack.  Perhaps Dunga is following on of the most famous of Sun Tzu's ideas:

All warfare is based on deception. I.17

Perhaps he is trying to make the adversary believe that Brazil will be concentrating on making itself invincible as a means of inducing the other side into making themselves vulnerable....

Joga Bonito!

Obama is reading Sun Tzu, not the Tao Te Ching

I'm emerging from the end of semester craziness.  My teaching is done for the semester (save one meeting with an independent study group this afternoon - always a pleasant meeting of minds) and the big pile of grading will not drop on me until next week.  A good time to catch up on blogging...

A blog  friend sent along a link a couple of days ago (thanks Alan!) to a post by Andrew Sullivan: "The Tao of Obama: No Fight, No Blame."  It's a simple post, just showing a photo of Obama and his new Supreme Court nominee, Elena Kagan, with the text of passage 8 from the Tao Te Ching, taken from the Gia-Fu Feng and Jane English translation:

The highest good is like water. Water gives life to the ten thousand things and does not strive. It flows in places men reject and so is like the Tao. In dwelling, be close to the land. In meditation, go deep in the heart. In dealing with others, be gentle and kind. In speech, be true. In ruling, be just. In business, be competent. In action, watch the timing. No fight: No blame.

Not really sure why he chose this translation, but it gets the job done (an interesting comparison of this and other translations of this passage can be found here).

The point, it seems, is to suggest that, in choosing Kagan, and her relatively nondescript public face (not much in the way of scholarly writings, no judicial decisions, etc.), Obama is shrewdly avoiding fights in a manner that will both succeed in the longer term and insulate him from criticism. 

And maybe all that is true.  But is it Taoist?  I think not.

I am already on record as suggesting that Obama has something of a Mencian streak (with the obvious caveat that Mencius would probably not have increased US military action in Afghanistan).  And I have recognized some Taoist resonances in his actions.  But the Kagan appointment is too strategic a political calculation to be Taoist in any meaningful sense.

Taoism encourages a minimalist approach to politics, something that, at the outset, makes it hard to apply to a position like President of the United States.  Could any President (besides maybe Calvin Coolidge) detach himself from the political sphere and do nothing that would run counter to the natural unfolding of things?  Not really.  And maybe that is making too much of Sullivan's juxtaposition.  But the suggestion that Obama's tactical avoidance of battle with conservative Republicans is Taoist misses other important aspects of his political stance, which strike me as more in line with Confucius/Mencius and Sun Tzu.

Obama is Confucian/Mencian in the sense that he has a vision of the Good, or "Humanity" (ren), and he is willing to use political power to move society toward that Good.  That is what the health care debate was all about; and that is what financial regulation is all about.  These are big projects with complex politics that Obama actively engages on a daily basis, as a good Confucian leader (and by that I mean Mencius himself in his constant efforts to persuade inhumane leaders to do the right thing) should do.

A Taoist would take a much more hands-off approach to all of this, something closer to contemporary libertarianism.  Might that bring about terrible social consequences?  Perhaps.  But the Taoist would accept these as a reflection of the natural unfolding of the Way of humankind, which contains both humanity and inhumanity.  Hard to see how any leader of any modern state could be anything close to a Taoist - although perhaps on specific issues a Taoist-like detachment might be maintained for a time.  Taoism can tell us something about our modern predicaments, and it can serve as a very general guide for personal decisions, but it is not all that useful (and it does not want to be "useful") as a framework for public policy.

Obama's choice of Kagan may be better understood as using Sun Tzu tactics to achieve Confucian ends.  As an accomplished politician, Obama understands strategy and tactics.  He knows he is in constant battle with those who want to defeat him politically.  No doubt he is attuned to the particular context of each battle he faces, what Sun Tzu discusses as "ground."  The ground for Supreme Court appointments is the Senate and filibuster is a possibility.  In other words, Obama is not in a position of clear political advantage in the Senate.  He has to tread carefully, not provoke the opposition, not put other aspects of his broader political strategy in jeopardy there. 

I think the "ground" of the Kagan confirmation battle comes closest to what Sun Tzu calls "key ground" or "communicating ground."  Key ground is: "equally advantageous for the enemy and me."  And communicating ground is: "equally accessible to the enemy and me." (11.4, 11.5).  Sun Tzu says: "Do not attack the enemy who occupies key ground; in communicating ground do not allow your formations to become separated." (11.12).

Don't attack frontally; keep your troops together; caution: that is what Obama is about.  He's reading Sun Tzu, not the Tao Te Ching, and Sun Tzu tells him:

He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot fight will be victorious. (3.25)

Sun Tzu on Afghanistan

Saw this cartoon this morning and thought it nailed Sun Tzu on Afghanistan:

Sun Tzu is not a Taoist

I keep an eye out for American popular cultural references to ancient Chinese philosophy.  So, imagine my surprise when I chanced upon this story from ESPN: "Amare Stoudemire, Taoist?"

It seems that the Phoenix Suns basketball player has gotten into a classical text - only it's not a Taoist book, but Sun Tzu:

"They call me 'Sun Tzu,' " Stoudemire said. "That's what they call me nowadays. The methods I use from the ancient general, Sun Tzu, is the leadership method. I feel like using that will help my leadership and help us to get over the hump. I'm going to apply those tactics and those rules to how we're going to approach battle and win."

It's not clear why the writer then links Sun to Taoism.  True, the notion of "winning without fighting" does have Taoist-like subtlety to it.  But Sun Tzu is a man of action, a man who tells us we must engage in exhaustive planning and preparation before we enter battle.  Wu wei - doing nothing -  is decidedly not his way of thinking.  Sun Tzu, I think it is safe to say, is not a Taoist.

OK, maybe I should not expect an ESPN writer to get these distinctions.  But I think the journalist he cites goes too far when she crticizes Stoudemire's invocation of Sun Tzu.  Apparently, the star player is suggesting that he might leave the team after this season, and the journalist comments:

Surely somewhere in the Chinese general's book, The Art of War, is a chapter that says conjecture about your possible departure a month removed from Suns training camp is not the right approach to unifying a team, let alone a fan base.

Sigh. Stoudemire has done it again, irking some with his comments Tuesday that the 2009-2010 season "might be my farewell tour." Poor timing? You bet. Worthy of an uproar? Hardly...

... So although the Sun Tzu bit might seem contrived to some, it's Stoudemire trying to flex his leadership muscles and, sure, maybe trying to market himself a little bit. This is the NBA, after all.

But maybe Stoudemire really does know Sun Tzu.   Maybe he takes to heart The Art of War's injunction that "war is deception."  Perhaps he is just saying that this might be his last season with the Suns in order to create a media commotion, to draw attention to himself and take the pressure off of his teammates....

Or maybe I reading way too much into this....

Sun Tzu will out

Just saw this post by Stephen Walt:

Today we learned that the U.S. armed forces in Afghanistan are now spearheading a major effort at (drum roll) ... prison reform. We've figured out that the brutal treatment that even petty criminals face while in jail is facilitating Taliban recruitment in the prisons, and so the United States is going to build some new facilities and try to get the Afghan government to change its incarceration practices. Your tax dollars at work.

Walt goes on to note the irony of all of this.

Remember what Sun Tzu said (something that had been rejected by the Bush administration):

Treat captives well, and care for them

Chang Yu: All soldiers taken must be cared for with magnanimity and sincerity so that they may be used by us.

This is called "winning a battle and becoming stronger."
(2.19,20)

Dick Cheney, call your office....

Davids, Goliaths and Sun Tzu

I missed this last week but let me comment on it now.

Malcolm Gladwell's piece in The New Yorker, "How David Beats Goliath," has a Sun Tzu tone to it.  He basically argues that creativity and effort can overcome material disadvantages in a wide range of strategic situations, from girl's basketball to war-gaming.  One of his examples is Lawrence of Arabia:

Consider the way T. E. Lawrence (or, as he is better known, Lawrence of Arabia) led the revolt against the Ottoman Army occupying Arabia near the end of the First World War. The British were helping the Arabs in their uprising, and the initial focus was Medina, the city at the end of a long railroad that the Turks had built, running south from Damascus and down through the Hejaz desert. The Turks had amassed a large force in Medina, and the British leadership wanted Lawrence to gather the Arabs and destroy the Turkish garrison there, before the Turks could threaten the entire region.

But when Lawrence looked at his ragtag band of Bedouin fighters he realized that a direct attack on Medina would never succeed. And why did taking the city matter, anyway? The Turks sat in Medina “on the defensive, immobile.” There were so many of them, consuming so much food and fuel and water, that they could hardly make a major move across the desert. Instead of attacking the Turks at their point of strength, Lawrence reasoned, he ought to attack them where they were weak—along the vast, largely unguarded length of railway line that was their connection to Damascus. Instead of focussing his attention on Medina, he should wage war over the broadest territory possible.

Gladwell goes on to describe the battle of Aqaba, where Lawrence's men surprise and defeat the Turks by coming at them from the desert, where they were least expected. This is, of course, straight out of Sun Tzu, which Lawrence may have known but which Gladwell does not cite.  Here are some relevant passages:

Generally, he who occupies the field of battle first and awaits his enemy is at ease; he who comes later to the scene and rushes into the fight is weary.

And therefore those skilled in war bring the enemy to he field of battle and are not brought there by him.

One able to make the enemy come of his own accord does so by offering him some advantage.  And one able to prevent him from coming does so by hurting him.

When the enemy is at ease, be able to weary him; when well fed, to starve him; when at rest; to make him move.

Appear at places to which he must hasten; move swiftly where he does not expect you.

That you may march a thousand li without wearying yourself is because you travel where there is no enemy.

To be certain to take what you attack, is to attack a place the enemy does not protect.  To be certain to hold what you defend is to defend a place the enemy does not attack.

Therefore, against those skilled in attack, an enemy does not know where to defend; against the experts in defense, the enemy does not know where to attack.

Subtle and insubstantial, the expert leaves no trace; divinely mysterious, he is inaudible.  Thus he is the master of the enemy's fate. (6.1-9)

Fight on the ground of you choosing, set the terms of the battle, control the pace of the interaction, and you will prevail...even in girl's basketball.

That's What Sun Tzu Said

I noticed this paragraph, in a blog post by Christopher Orr at TNR (HT Sullivan):

The humane treatment of surrendered captives, therefore, is a crucial--arguably the crucial--understanding between adversaries if their conflict is to end in any way other than with the wholesale slaughter of the losers. It's worth noting, too, that it is not merely the lives of the losers that are preserved. If they do not surrender, it may be that they are all killed; but it is very likely that, in the process, they will also kill some, perhaps even many, of the eventual victors.

And that is pretty much what Sun Tzu (II.19,20) says:

Treat the captives well, and care for them

This is called "winning a battle and becoming stronger."

And just for emphasis, one ancient Chinese commentator on this passage, Chang Yu, adds:

All the soldiers taken must be cared for with magnanimity and sincerity so that they may be used by us.

You can't gain good intelligence from captives if you brutalize and torture them.  Too bad Bush and Cheney failed to heed Sun Tzu...

Sun Tzu on the American Exit from Iraq

One of the benefits of teaching is the new ideas that are generated in conversation with students.  That happened the other day.  My class was discussing Sun Tzu and the impending US withdrawal from Iraq, focusing on a recent report from the Center for American Progress. In the course of the exchange one student came up with a novel point, one that I think goes to one of the key assertions of the report.

The CAP report argues that the US military presence in Iraq creates a disincentive for domestic policy-makers to make the hard choices that genuine political reconciliation requires:

The U.S. military presence in Iraq is not politically neutral. It creates a distinct set of incentives for political actors that directly work against the reconciliation that U.S. diplomats try to promote. U.S. military dominance and support absolves the major political actors from having to make the tough decisions necessary to achieve a power-sharing equilibrium.

Thus, they argue, an American withdrawal is more likely to facilitate an ultimate political settlements, something that the "surge" has failed to achieve.

One student in my class argued that Sun Tzu would likely agree with this.  The obvious Art of War idea to support that sort of claim would be the various statements that tell commanders to avoid protracted warfare, which raises economic costs and saps political support for a campaign, outcomes that are manifest in Iraq.  But the student brought in another idea, referring to passage 11.5 (Griffith translation):

Set the troops to their tasks without imparting your designs; use them to gain advantage without revealing the dangers involved.   Throw them into a perilous situation and they survive; put them in death ground and they will live.  For when the army is placed in such a situation it can snatch victory from defeat.

Sun Tzu is here talking about the psychological dynamics of commanding one's own troops.  He is saying that a commander should consciously place his men in difficult circumstances, even "death ground" (i.e. places where there is no way out except to fight like hell), because their natural instinct to live will spur them on to greater effort and achievement.   This passage can also be applied to the political situation in Iraq: when the US leaves, Iraqi political leaders will be on their own, in a more "perilous situation," perhaps even "death ground," and thus will be forced to work toward some sort of political settlement.  As long as the US remains, those Iraqi leaders do not have to face the difficulties and can put off the day of political reckoning.

Of course what matters is which sort of political settlement is pursued.  It is possible, maybe likely, that some Iraqi leaders, especially those now in power, will use violent means against their political rivals.  Indeed, there would seem to be a high probability of an increase in violence when the US leaves.  But that is the nature of the situation.  The civil war(s) have been suspended for a time while various factions wait for what they know is the inevitable US withdrawal.  They avoid political agreements that might create institutions or practices that could limit their power, in favor of a fight in the not so distant future that could yield them a better political position. There is a chance that a stable political settlement could emerge without high levels of fighting.  Yet if some groups, Sunnis for example, feel that they are being shut out, that they are on "death ground," the violence could be quite bad.

Given the overall situation, however, I think the student is right.  The high costs of the war and the strategic disadvantage it has created for the US (producing a regional context in which Iranian power is very much magnified) would lead Sun Tzu to agree with disengagement.  And if the hope is for stabilization of Iraqi politics,  Sun Tzu would also likely agree that a US exit, by placing Iraqi leaders in a more "perilous situation," would serve that end.