The Strategist

Nuclear waste, and bridging the gulf of deep time

Here's a tough question. You're in the nuclear waste disposal business. How do you warn people in the distant future - 10,000 or 100,000 years hence - about the perils of fossicking around in ancient nuclear waste dumps?

This Slate article by Juliet Lapidos covers some ideas that the US Department of Energy developed to bridge the gulf of deep time... 

"Giant, jagged earthwork berms should surround the area. Dozens of granite message walls or kiosks, each 25 feet high, might present graphic images of human faces contorted with horror, terror, or pain...as well as text in English, Spanish, Russian, French, Chinese, Arabic, and Navajo explaining what's buried. This variety of languages...turns the monoliths into quasi-Rosetta stones.

Three rooms...would serve as information centers with more detailed explanations of nuclear waste and its hazards, maps showing the location of similar sites around the world, and star charts to help intruders calculate the year the site was sealed....

Sebeok further suggested a Dan Brown-like 'atomic priesthood' of physicists, anthropologists, semioticians and the like who would preserve the 'truth.'"

Sounds kind of cool, right? Not for Lapidos. She turns her nose up at these "egghead" ideas. It seems too hard, too far-fetched, and too silly for a world-weary journalist to contemplate. But there's something big and challenging about these ideas, something which warrants more open-minded reflection.

Is it so far-fetched, for instance, to think that people in 4009 may still be able to read and understand documents passed down from today? And that they, in turn, could pass on their understanding? Today we read texts that are well over 2000 years old, such as the Bible, The Iliad, and Chinese classics like the Book of Changes and the Tao Te Ching. And these classics are rooted in older traditions and ways of thinking.

And take the idea of the "atomic priesthood". Not as dumb or sinister as it sounds. Throughout history, people have developed institutions precisely for this purpose, to preserve and transmit knowledge and meaning across time and space.

This is why Christianity has churches - institutions that sprang up to preserve and propagate the teachings of Christ. They've done so with phenomenal success. Similarly, the teachings of Buddha were transmitted across the ages by Buddhist teachers, disciples, temples and communities.

Of course, the story of Christianity shows how things can go pear-shaped. Over time, the Christian church split into many rival creeds and institutions. In the process, Christ's simple, practical and powerful teachings were magnified, distorted and perverted. As Christianity fragmented, so too did the message.

On "Doctor Zhivago", and why collapse isn't much fun

Why is Doctor Zhivago a great novel? Here's one reason. Boris Pasternak shows us what it's like to live through a violent upheaval of society, in this case the Russian Revolution and Civil War.

It's a bleak picture of petty tyrants and armed marauders, the violence and chaos of civil war, people dying of typhus and other wretched diseases, basic services falling apart, no food or firewood...

"Curious incidents began to happen when they left Central Russia behind on their way east. They were going through disturbed country, through districts where armed bands were in control and past villages where risings had recently been put down.

....Next day the train, creeping at a snail's pace for fear of running off the tracks, which the wind had powdered with snow and which no one had cleared, pulled up beside a lifeless, burned-out ruin. This was all that was left of the station, Lower Kelmes, its name still faintly legible on its blackened front."

On the internet you often come across people fantasizing about the downfall of western society. About how it's going to be an austere but liberating time when we all live in resilient communities, hunt, fish and garden for our food, and drive around in ethanol-fuelled vehicles.

They could do with a good dose of Pasternak.

Caught my eye this week - darknets and sub atomic wave guns

Here are some articles that caught my eye this week...

• New Zealand exports high-tech weapons to China, like the Pomsom 6000 Sub Atomic Wave Gun and the Grordbort 66 Sonic Destabiliser.

• The Guardian's Andy Beckett ventures into the deep web and darknets. Reminds me of a line from Milton's Paradise Lost: "On Heav'nly ground they stood, and from the shore, They viewed the vast immeasurable abyss".

• A translation of the Ango-Saxon poem 'The Wanderer' - "So spoke the wanderer, mindful of hardships, of fierce slaughters, and the downfall of kinsmen".

• A call for urban authorities to invest in "green infrastructure", the network of living green spaces, such as parks, gardens, cemeteries, woodlands and waterways, so that they work together as a functioning system.

Oh, and here's a rose from the garden...

Kagan on Thucydides: one for the Christmas shopping list

A C Grayling gives this book the thumbs up - Donald Kagan's Thucydides: The Reinvention of History...

"Kagan's book, fascinating and characteristically lucid, is one of those little masterpieces that permanently reconfigure intellectual landscapes. Thucydides will not be the same after this, though neither diminished as an historian nor less significant as a teacher for all time."

Sounds like a cool Christmas present.

Meanwhile, I'm reading Boris Pasternak's Doctor Zhivago and Seneca's Letters from a Stoic, and dipping into Insurgents, Terrorists and Militias: The Warriors of Contemporary Conflict, by Richard Shultz and Andrea Dew.

These days you have to be choosy about buying and reading new books. Every time I walk into my favourite bookstore, and that's around two or three times a week, I notice all the new titles that have come onto the shelves. The publishing industry spews out so many books that most must be at best average, at worst dross, and certainly not memorable or profound.

This is one reason why I read the classics. If, like Doctor Zhivago or History of the Peloponnesian War, a book's been around for 100 or 2000-odd years, it's got to have something worthwhile to say.

Book review - "The Art of Peace"

After writing several posts about "The Art of War", I thought it was about time to read a book called The Art of Peace. This is John Patterson's translation of Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching, published by Steele Roberts who kindly sent me a review copy.

The Tao Te Ching is the principal classic of Taoist philosophy. It has had an immense influence on Chinese thought since it was written around the 5th century BC, during the turbulent Warring States period of China's history. The Tao Te Ching suggests how men and women can live in accordance with the Tao ("the Way", that which animates the universe) and in doing so survive, and perhaps even prosper, in times of hardship and peril.

There are many English translations of the Tao Te Ching. Some translators try to render the words and meaning of the original text as faithfully as possible. Others seek to interpret the work in a personal or modern way.

A retired philosophy professor, John Patterson focuses on what he describes as the "self-improvement" aspect of the Tao Te Ching, ideas that can help us grow spiritually, get along with each other, and lead good lives. His translation emphasizes the uplifting elements of the Tao Te Ching, while downplaying those parts that are morally ambiguous or that seem calculating and amoral.

For example, writing about statecraft, Patterson says that "Goodness in government is straightforwardness". Another translator, D C Lau renders this sentence as "In government it is order that matters"*.

Patterson's interpretation didn't gel with me, mainly because I tend towards Lau's take on the Tao Te Ching, that it is "a rather down-to-earth philosophy aimed at the mundane purpose of personal survival and political order". Patterson seems to miss what is a crucial idea in the Tao Te Ching - that we thrive when we align ourselves with the Tao, when we go with the cosmic flow rather than struggle against obstacles and fate.

Patterson writes clearly and in plain English. As a result, The Art of Peace is easy and pleasant to read. Some passages don't work, even as suggestions for self-improvement. "Contrive to be easygoing," Patterson writes, "work at not working". I wouldn't advise anybody to take this approach, especially during hard economic times. Work at not working and you could be fired from your job.

But other passages are well-crafted and thoughtful. "Others turn to us and we do not lord it over them" - a useful reminder that good leaders have the confidence to be gracious and humble. And politicians and government officials would do well to reflect on the idea that the essence of good government is straightforwardness.  

* Lao Tzu: Tao Te Ching (Penguin, 1963).

On modern slavery

Stoic philosopher Epictetus believed that you can't have your cake and eat it too. You can't have the "rewards of freedom and happiness" while striving for power, riches and status (Enchiridion, chapter 1). Rock group The Verve put this in another way in 'Bittersweet symphony'...

"Trying to make ends meet, You're a slave to money then you die"

The fat cats featured in this article, about big bonuses for London bankers, aren't exactly trying to make ends meet. They have fancy houses, cars, suits, gadgets and so on. But it sounds like they lead wretched lives...

"Most of us are high-flyers who have been working our socks off since our O levels, yet we are now pariahs."

"We have...a gardener, a housekeeper/cook, a cleaner, a chauffeur, a nanny and a tutor. But it has come at a huge price. Most of the time I feel like a single mother — my husband comes home now and again, repacks his suitcase and is off to another European city....

[On holiday] he spends most of the time pacing up and down the beach on his BlackBerry....he now looks 20 years older than I do..."

"Everyone assumes that I’m paid millions but my salary is far less than £100,000 for being at the partners’ disposal 24 hours a day. The bonus — I’m hoping for £200,000 — is the incentive to keep going at 2am."

These people are slaves to money and the trinkets that money can buy. They are slaves to their corporate bosses who control the money and therefore their lives. They are enslaved by the fear that they will lose their bonuses if they do not grovel to their bosses, work their butts off, and fight tooth and claw with their 'colleagues' to get ahead.

> "I must die. But must I die bawling?"

What I'm reading at the moment - Heathcliff, Lao-tzu and Caesar

At school I somehow managed to escape the Brontë sisters. Instead we endured studied Thomas Hardy. Now, older, wiser, and with silver hairs starting to show, it's time to read Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights. And do you remember this? Kate Bush's creepy song from 1978:

"Heathcliff, it's me, Cathy, come home, I'm so cold..."

Or check out this version of "Wuthering Heights" by the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain (h/t Nemo).

I've already written about John Minford's translation of Sun-tzu's The Art of War. Oddly enough, I'm also reading John Patterson's interpretation of Lao-tzu's Tao Te Ching, which Patterson calls The Art of Peace. I like this line, "Goodness in government is straightforwardness". In my experience of government, this is a foreign concept to most politicians and officials. 

Montaigne believed that Julius Caesar "ought to be the breviary of every fighting-man". Swiftness, and seeking the advice of experienced subordinates are two lessons I learned from Caesar's The Gallic War and The Civil War. After reading In the Name of Rome, an excellent history of Rome's top generals, I was keen to read another book by Adrian Goldsworthy. His biography of Caesar seems to fit the bill.

Sun-tzu, "deluxe edition" - bring it on!

Today I added to my collection of books entitled "The Art of War" by buying Penguin's 2003 edition of John Minford's translation of Sun-tzu.

Some will think that I've gone soft ... in particular I'm thinking about one reader who described Master Sun as "an over-rated hack". But that's OK. I love Sun-tzu. So does a guy I met in the lift at work today. And this is the "Deluxe Edition". Nice.

I've already explained why I believe Minford's translation is the one to read: "It is superb. It is crisp. It is poetic". Now for the steak knives bit - the Deluxe Edition has an excellent introductory essay, which situates Sun-tzu's work in its context of history, ideas and legacy. It presents the text in two formats: by itself, and accompanied by commentary from Chinese and European commentators. It has useful extras like a chronology, biographical notes on commentators, and suggestions for further reading.

I'm taking a sabbatical from work over the next couple of months. One of the things I'm going to do is get deep into reading traditional Chinese philosophical, literary and military classics. After reading this edition of Sun-tzu, and finishing a recent translation of the Tao Te Ching, I'm planning to read The Book of Changes (I-Ching) and The Romance of the Three Kingdoms. I'd welcome other suggestions.

On Machiavelli and "The Art of War"

Writing a classic study of the nature of war usually goes like this. A devastating conflict happens. In the aftermath, military thinkers interpret how war, and the way it's fought, has changed. The emphasis is on a fundamental break with the past.

Clausewitz, for instance, considered that the bloodletting of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars was one such fracture. He believed that these conflicts approached the theoretical state of total war - "untrammelled by any conventional restraints, broken loose in all its elemental fury". Writing after the First World War, Liddell Hart and Fuller articulated visions of a new form of conventional war based on emerging tactics, technologies and ideologies. Since the Cold War, strategists have written about emerging (or re-emerging) trends in conflict, like counterinsurgency, "war among the people", and cyber-conflict.

Niccolò Machiavelli's The Art of War (1521) is different. It starts with the view that contemporary military practice in Renaissance Europe is degenerate, and that if generals and statesmen wish to conduct wars effectively, they should look to the distant past for inspiration, to a golden age of military endeavour - ancient Rome and Greece...

"Cosimo: I should be very happy to learn if you have ever considered how it comes to pass that we are so degenerate, and that not only these exercises but all manner of military discipline, have now fallen into such neglect and disuse among us."

When you read The Art of War you realize that Machiavelli aimed to popularize classical military thought, principally the work of Vegetius (the late Roman author of De Re Militari), Polybius, Frontinus and Livy. He wanted to educate Renaissance commanders, who, he believed, were "strangers to all sorts of discipline and military knowledge", so that they could apply ancient wisdom to modern war.

Even with this in mind, it's surprising that Machiavelli makes relatively little reference to contemporary military practices and events. Most of the examples he uses to illustrate points derive from ancient times, like this comment on recruitment...

"Some, like Pyrrhus, would have their soldiers tall; others like Julius Caesar, prefer men who are active and vigorous."

This is strange given that the protagonist of The Art of War, the Italian mercenary captain Fabrizio Colonna, was an experienced soldier who'd fought for different masters in Italy. In a discussion on war you'd expect Colonna to draw on his own experiences, and those of his contemporaries, not ancient examples that he could know about only through books.

The same goes for Machiavelli himself. Although not a soldier, Machiavelli was well-versed in military affairs. He was active in Florence's siege of Pisa in 1509, and raised a Florentine militia which was modelled on ancient Greek and Roman armies. Machiavelli believed that citizen militias, when properly armed, trained and led, were superior to the mercenary forces of his day. He also considered that a militia acts as a bulwark against tyranny in a republic or principality, and is important for instilling civic pride and duty in citizens and subjects.

It's this kind of observation, not the commentary on ancient military practices, which makes The Art of War worth reading. If you want to study ancient military history, don't read Machiavelli; read Livy, Caesar, Xenophon, along with modern historical interpretations (Adrian Goldsworthy's In the Name of Rome is an excellent study of Roman generals). The same goes for medieval and Renaissance warfare.

For me, The Art of War is valuable for its discussion of the relationship between war and politics, the importance of a sound defence policy, and the appropriate role of military advisers in government. It's a good companion to Machiavelli's political works, The Prince and The Discourses.

Machiavelli reminds us that effective defensive capabilities are essential for any state that wants to safeguard its sovereignty, preserve the liberty of its citizens, and protect its interests and resources. Nor should defence policy be the preserve of elites and warrior castes within a state. The dangers of armed men seizing power, or advising rulers "to make war because they cannot support themselves without war", are as relevant today as they were 600 years ago.

On survivors, success and failure

In the Essays, Michel de Montaigne wrote about how we draw general conclusions from successful but rare instances. He illustrated this point with shipwreck survivors:

"[Diagoras] was shown many vows and votive portraits from those who have survived shipwreck and was then asked, 'You, there, who think that the gods are indifferent to human affairs, what have you to say about so many men saved by their grace?'

'It is like this,' he replied; 'there are no portraits here of those who stayed and drowned - and they are more numerous!'"*

This got me thinking about the part that chance plays in our lives. If there are 100 people on a ship that founders in a storm, and only ten survive, you might assume that the survivors were the "fittest" - smarter, stronger, tougher than the others - and this meant they survived when the others perished.

Or would you? You might concede that in the extreme conditions of a shipwreck - raging storm, icy cold sea, jagged rocks - chance has a huge part to play in determining who lives. The strongest swimmer might, in theory, have the best odds of reaching the shore, but if he's asleep below decks when the ship sinks, his chances of surviving are nil. The person who is an average swimmer, but who happens to be on deck and standing next to a life buoy, has a much better chance of surviving.

If we concede that chance has a big part to play in shipwrecks, why do we ignore its impact in situations like sports, politics or employment? Take a national sports team. You assume that the players are the best; out of tens of thousands of players in their age cohort, they made it because they're the most talented.

But is that right? Did other factors come into play that had little to do with talent and a lot to do with chance? Imagine a situation where the best player was hit with a debilitating illness and didn't play a game all season. Another player, of lesser ability, was picked because he did something that struck a cord with the selectors, or because he seemed to "fit" better with the bundle of attributes they were seeking. Someone with great potential may have dropped out of the sport years before, perhaps because he was devastated by the death of his father in a car crash.

Other factors may also influence the result. If a player is identified early, he will be fast-tracked into representative teams and high performance programmes. The preferential treatment will help him develop faster than his peers. And some successful players may be good at influencing selectors, adept at selling themselves, or have the kind of "sex appeal" that makes big money for clubs, sponsors, advertisers and news media.

All this makes me wary of the pervasive view that those at the top are the best. Or that those who didn't make the cut are losers.  

* Montaigne, "On prognostications".

"Losing Alexandria" - on Mark Antony, Cavafy, and Stoic thinking

Last night I finished watching the second series of "Rome" on DVD (I missed it when it screened on the telly). Like the first series, it was compelling: darker, more violent, loads more sex, but with the same gripping storylines, first rate acting and attention to historical detail.

The scene of Mark Antony's suicide in Alexandria is beautifully played. Vorenus, loyal to the end despite his commander's debauched ways, hands him a sword. "It's been an honour serving with you, sir", he says.

This catches Antony completely off-guard. It's an unexpected mark of respect from a man who epitomizes Roman republican and stoic virtues. A smile of surprise crosses Antony's face, and he says quietly, "Has it? I hope so". Then, with Vorenus bracing him, Antony plunges the sword deep into his chest.

The scene reminded me of a poem by C P Cavafy, "The God Forsakes Antony"…

As if long prepared for this, as if courageous,
as it becomes you who are worthy of such a city;
approach the window with firm step,
and listen with emotion, but not
with the entreaties and complaints of the coward,
as a last enjoyment listen to the sounds,
the exquisite instruments of the mystical troupe,
and bid her farewell, the Alexandria you are losing.

Cavafy's poem, and Antony's death in "Rome", convey two important ideas of Stoic philosophy. One is that we can't avoid misfortune, but we can control the way we perceive misfortune and how we respond to it. We can die bewailing our fate. Or we can try to die with dignity and cheerfulness. As Epictetus explained, "I must die. But must I die bawling?".

The other is that it doesn't really matter whether we win or lose. You can't judge the worth of a man or a woman by whether they succeed or fail in any given endeavour. There are too many factors outside one's control, too much chance involved, to say with certainty, "he succeeded because of his superior skills" or "she failed because she wasn't good enough".

What counts is that we tried. And how we went about it.

If we succeed, we can choose to believe that it was because of our superior talent. Or we accept our good fortune calmly, knowing that luck will, at some point, turn against us. As Seneca wrote, "fortune is never less to be trusted than when it is fairest".

If we fail, we can choose to blame others and berate ourselves. Or we can accept the result and get on with it.

"Strike with chaos" - who's the best translator of Sun-tzu?

So, you haven't read Sun-tzu's The Art of War, but you'd like to. Trouble is, which translation?

I've got two translations of this ancient Chinese classic on warfare and strategy. One is by Thomas Cleary, published by Shambhala in 1988. The other is by John Minford, published by Penguin in 2003.

Cleary's translation is a dog. It is long-winded. It is dull. Avoid it.

Minford's translation is superb. It is crisp. It is poetic. Buy it - either the 2003 edition, or the Penguin Great Ideas version which is small, slim and easy to carry around. If you're a soldier, tuck it into a trouser leg pocket. If you're a suit, carry it inside your jacket.

Payoff? Next time you have to endure a business presentation or a brainstorming session, sit at the back of the room, ignore the powerpoint rangers and facilitators, pull out Minford's Sun-tzu and read him instead.

Here's how Cleary translates a passage in the first part of The Art of War: 

Draw them in with the prospect of gain,
Take them by confusion.

And this is how Minford renders the same passage:

Lure with bait
Strike with chaos.

"Strike with chaos". When I read this, I think of Caesar striking south from the Rubicon with the XIII Legion, driving Pompey to Greece, Pharsalus and destruction. Of the Mongols scything through Russia and Europe from 1238 to 1241. And of Jason Bourne, striking fear into the dark hearts of renegade CIA operatives in "The Bourne Ultimatum".

I won't labour the point. Minford's translation sings. It makes the study of war and strategy come alive. Cleary makes me yawn.

A tale of three versions of "The Art of War"

I have three books titled The Art of War.

The first is The Art of War by Sun-tzu. It is an ancient Chinese text on warfare and strategy. I've read it many times.

The second is Notes on The Art of War, by Elsdon Best, a 19th century New Zealand ethnographer. It is a study, based on frontier fieldwork, of the "war customs, practices and ceremonies of the Maori". I've yet to read it, but it has this spine-tingling warrior's vow on the back cover:

"Let us not linger on and die of old age, rather let us die like the shark, fighting to the last."

The third is The Art of War by Niccolò Machiavelli. This is Machiavelli's study of the nature of warfare and military organization in Renaissance Europe, and the relationship between these and the state. I'm currently reading it.

Machiavelli's The Art of War takes the form of a dialogue between a group of Florentine intellectuals and Fabrizio Colonna, an Italian mercenary captain. In the dialogue, Colonna serves as a mouthpiece for expounding Machiavelli's views on warfare.

I'm part way through Book 2. At this stage in The Art of War, Machiavelli has emphasized the superiority of citizen militias over professional soldiers. When properly armed, trained and led, a militia will hold its own against professional and mercenary troops. It also has important civic virtues. In a state, a militia of armed citizens is a bulwark against tyranny. It is an effective way of instilling patriotism and discipline among subjects and citizens.

Another interesting aspect is how Machiavelli argues that the practice of the art of war in Europe has degenerated since ancient times. He considers that Roman republican military practice is the standard to which Renaissance rulers and commanders must aspire.

Poems to stir the imagination: "Ulysses"

I went to the wrong school. For poetry we studied Keats, not Tennyson. We endured the soporific "Ode on a Grecian Urn". All the while my heart yearned for Tennyson's stirring "The Charge of the Light Brigade" or the fey "Morte d'Arthur"...

So all day long the noise of battle roll'd
Among the mountains by the winter sea;
Until King Arthur's table, man by man,
Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their Lord 

But if we're taking Tennyson, then "Ulysses" is my favourite poem. The life of the aged king Odysseus is finely drawn:

Much have I seen and known - cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

"Ulysses" captures much of what I believe is important in life. Adventure. Reflection. Learning. And not letting yourself slide into a life of ease...

Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

The big idea of "Ulysses" is to throw yourself into life, to plunge into uncertainty and that "untravell'd world, whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move".

Shackleton - lessons on leadership from the frozen continent

I've just read Shackleton's South. This is a classic Antarctic adventure story. I'll never forget Shackleton's descriptions of killer whales blowing in the leads, and smashing up through the ice to snatch a seal: "A lizard-like head would show while the killer gazed along the floe with wicked eyes...".

The book also chronicles vivid episodes of fine leadership. This one stands out, but first the back story - Shackleton is about to set sail in a small boat for South Georgia island, 800 miles away across the stormy Southern Ocean, in the hope of finding a ship to rescue the rest of the crew...

"I had a last word with Wild, who was remaining in full command, with directions as to his course of action in the event of our failure to bring relief, but I practically left the whole situation and scope of action and decision to his own judgment, secure in the knowledge that he would act wisely. I told him that I trusted the party to him and said good-bye to the men."

Trust. That's the key word here. Trust in the ability of good people. Give them responsibility and the freedom to exercise it. Get out of the way and allow them to do the job by using their initiative and creativity.

Now, you could argue that Shackleton had no choice - he couldn't micro-manage Wild from a small boat far out to sea. But what Shackleton might have done, before he left, was to give Wild precise and detailed instructions about what he should do, and how he should do it, and what he shouldn't do, in a range of foreseeable situations.

This is precisely how some managers operate, and it cripples people and organizations.

Where can you find good books about leadership?

Today I did some lunch-time research - checked out books on leadership in the business section of a bookstore. This is what I observed:

• Many books are written by people who are not leaders. They're academics, consultants, or executive coaches. They may be successful in their fields. But they've never led people. What they lack in experience they make up for in confidence and unashamedly offer you their advice.

• That advice is packaged as a formula. Learn the formula and, hey presto, you've become a leader. One book recited 18 "principles" of leadership. Another described how to crack the "leadership code", with its five key elements. A third set out the "eight steps" on the "journey" to becoming a highly effective leader. 

• Authors base their books on gimmicks. In an overcrowded field, they strive for a point of difference. My fave was a book on leadership lessons from special forces officers. A close second was the "leadership secrets" of Colin Powell. Truly appalling was an adaptation of Sun-tzu's The Art of War for corporate middle-managers.

Out of all the books I saw, I'd buy only one, a book by Peter Drucker. The rest were dross.

The upshot? If you're looking for good books on leadership, you won't find them in the business section of the bookstore or library.

You will find good books about leadership under classics, history, philosophy, politics, sport and war. They're written by people who were leaders and walked the walk, often in extreme situations - like Xenophon, Caesar, Marcus Aurelius, Clausewitz, Shackleton and Churchill. The titles won't mention "leadership" or "management". Nor will they make things nice and tidy with formulas, principles and codes.

Related posts of interest

• Xenophon and the Persian expedition

• On leadership - Caesar, Xenophon and Marcus Aurelius

• The Iliad's Sarpedon and leadership

• Clausewitz on leadership and coup d'œil

Food for thought for future generals

At the Committee of Public Safety Joseph Fouche links to a British Staff College reading list on military theory and strategy. He applauds the choice of Clausewitz, Colin Gray and Rupert Smith, but criticizes the inclusion of Martin van Creveld and Mary Kaldor ...

"if you agree with Kaldor you might as well take that fat juicy volume of On War and all of classical strategic thought for that matter, soak it in gasoline, and light it on fire."

Ouch!

The idea with reading lists like this is to expose future senior commanders to the work of a range of thinkers. You may not agree with what Kaldor or van Creveld have to say, but they are influential and insightful and it makes sense to understand their ideas.

Joseph Fouche argues that Staff College students should "probably master the masters first and worry about the newest fashion later". But why can't they read both? We're talking about experienced officers who are being prepared for senior command appointments, not callow cadets.

Ideas about human security (Kaldor), demise of nation-states and 4GW (van Creveld) and war among the people (Smith) are relevant to the situations that these commanders will encounter. If nothing else, they will provide food for thought.

What can Chuang Tzu tell us about leading people?

Taoist philosopher Chuang Tzu had this subtle insight into human nature ...

"When someone tries to correct others, his own Virtue is clouded over, and his Virtue will no longer reach all others. Trying to do so will destroy everyone's innate nature."

There's an interesting idea here about leadership. A leader has to understand, as far as possible, the natures of the people that she or he leads. "What makes them tick", in other words.

But leaders often try to change people, to "correct" their "innate natures", to get them to do things the way they like. Heaven knows, I've tried to correct people myself at times.

To me the role of a leader is to create or shape situations where people succeed through their own initiative and effort. For real and enduring success you need to work with a individual's innate nature, not against it. You shape outcomes from the dynamic of the people you work with.

This gels with the Taoist concept of riding the flow of life rather than struggling against it. "I go in with the currents and come out with the flow," the swimmer says to Confucius, "just going with the Tao of the water and never being concerned".

* Quotes from The Book of Chuang Tzu, ed. Martin Palmer (Penguin 2006).

Who would you invite to dinner? Sun-tzu or Caesar?

Liddell Hart once had this great idea - if you could pick seven historically famous people to come to your place for dinner (no, not Brittany or Snoop Dogg), who would they be?

Here's my seven...

Sun-tzu - the ancient Chinese strategist and philosopher of war. The Art of War is arguably the most profound, and certainly the punchiest, work of strategy ever written. Sun-tzu wrote that "the warrior shapes his victory from the dynamic of the enemy".

Julius Caesar - general and politician whose lust for power contributed to the fall of the Roman Republic. Caesar was not modest. He saw himself as emulating Alexander the Great, and chronicled his own glorious military achievements in Commentaries on the Gallic War and Commentaries on the Civil War.

Harald Hardrada - Norwegian king, Viking raider, adventurer, and commander of the Byzantine Emperor's Varangian Guard. Hardrada was the ultimate hard man, someone you'd really want on your side when things got ugly. He went down fighting beneath his "Land waster" banner at Stamford Bridge, England, in 1066.

Miguel de Cervantes - writer, Spanish soldier, veteran of the Battle of Lepanto and other campaigns against the Turks. Spent years in captivity as a prisoner of Barbary corsairs, then in a Spanish prison. Wrote Don Quixote, which above all else poses the question, "who is really mad, and who is really sane?".

Ivan Turgenev - Russian social commentator, novelist and hunter. Wrote Sketches from a Hunter's Album, which mixed hunting tales with beautiful descriptions of landscape and weather and commentary on the miserable plight of 19th century Russian peasants.

Fernand Braudel - French historian. Wrote The Mediterranean, a grand history of the Mediterranean world in the late Middle Ages which emphasizes geography, climate and culture over battles, treaties and power struggles - "Events are the ephemera of history; they pass across its stage like fireflies...".

Robert Capa - war correspondent. Capa first made his name in the Spanish Civil War. On D-Day he went ashore with the first wave at Omaha beach and shot some of the most graphic pictures of men at war. He lived and died by the motto, "If your photographs aren't good enough, you're not close enough".

In a dangerous world you need an action man...

Check out this photo history of action man toys. I wish I was a kid again.

There's even a toy of George Bush, clad in the naval aviator flight uniform the ex-president wore when he landed on an aircraft carrier and declared an end to major combat operations in Iraq in 2003.

Oh, the many ironies...

Sunday morning reflection

In 1890 Anton Chekhov journeyed to the Russian Far East and the penal colony on Sakhalin Island. On the way he travelled down the Amur River on a steamer. Chekhov wrote:

"The air on board gets red hot from all the talking. Out here nobody worries about saying what he thinks. There's no one to arrest you and nowhere to exile people to, so you can be as liberal as you please. The people grow ever more independent, self-sufficient and understanding."*

Freedom from control. This is one reason why people migrate to distant colonies and frontiers. Why they leave corporate bureaucracies to set up their own businesses. Why they eschew personal ambition so as not to be enslaved to the petty tyrants of the workplace.

* Letter, "To Chekhov family, 23-26 June 1890".

>> "I must die. But must I die bawling?"

Mentions in dispatches

• Zenpundit reviews Paul Cartledge's Alexander the Great. According to Zen, Cartledge has "brought out the extent to which Alexander saw himself not as a Westerner, or a Hellene, but as a bridge to the East, a synthesizer of civilizations".

• The Interpreter argues that if "electronic eavesdropping and computer snooping were Olympic sports" the Anglosphere (the intelligence network of English speaking countries) would win gold while China would struggle to make the medal count.

• Global Dashboard explains that there's more to the British government's “34% cut in UK emissions by 2020″ than meets the eye.

The Eagle of the Ninth

One of my favourite children's adventure books - Rosemary Sutcliff's The Eagle of the Ninth - is being turned into a movie. The film will be directed by Kevin Macdonald, with production starting in August.

The Eagle of the Ninth is a simple but exciting quest story. Set in Roman Britain during the second century AD, a young centurion journeys north of Hadrian's wall in search of the Eagle of the lost Ninth Legion. Mist-shrouded landscapes, ruined forts, druidic rites, a mountain pursuit, and running through it all the mystery of the fate of the men of the Ninth Legion - all this adds up to a great adventure tale for kids.

Sutcliff wrote The Eagle of the Ninth in 1954. Like other kid's classics - e.g., R M Ballantyne's The Coral Island, and Robert Louis Stevenson's The Black Arrow - it has aged remarkably well.

It'd be interesting to figure out the elements that make for a classic kid's adventure story. A deserted island is an obvious one, quest another. Any others?*

* Declaration of interest: I've been thinking about writing a kid's adventure story about a boy growing up in a clan of ice age hunters. No deserted islands there, but plenty of shamen, cave bears and woolly mammoths to contend with.

Books for teenagers - "all for one, one for all"

Another school gala, another clutch of second hand books to add to my reading pile.

I turned up late to the book stall at my son's school fair, but still found some bargains, including Frederick Forsyth's The Dogs of War (hardback, first edition), James Clavell's King Rat (hardback, first edition), Kipling's The Jungle Books and Rousseau's The Social Contract (both Penguin paperbacks). I spotted Solzhenitsyn's The Gulag Archipelago, but just as I decided to buy it a large paw reached from behind and grabbed all three volumes. Rats!

Getting back to the theme of books for kids, I've just finished re-reading Alexandre Dumas's The Three Musketeers. This is a great historical novel for teenagers, as well as adults. Set in early 17th century France, the novel tells the story of King's musketeers d'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis, and their intrigues with the agents of Cardinal Richelieu, especially the beautiful but deadly 'Milady'. The duels, battles, ambuscades and amorous affairs come thick and fast, more than enough to satisfy the attention of any teenage boy.

By the way, the King's Musketeers must be the most evocative regimental name in European history. And that's saying something for a continent which gave rise to regiments with names like the Black Watch, the Chasseurs-a-Cheval of the Imperial Guard, and the Preobrazhensky Life Guard Regiment.

The Iliad and leadership

From The Iliad - Sarpedon on leadership...

Glaucus, why are we most of all singled out for honour at home in Lycia, with pride of place, the choicest meat and never empty cups? Why do they all look up to us as gods? And why do we cultivate a great estate on the banks of the River Xanthus, with lovely orchards and splendid fields of wheat? All this now obliges us to take our places in the front ranks of the Lycians and fling ourselves into the flames of battle. Only then will our Lycian men-at-arms say of us: "Well! These are no dishonourable lords of Lycia that rule over us and eat fat sheep and drink the best sweet wine: they are indomitable and fight in the forefront of the Lycians".*

The chieftain enjoys great privilege, but pays a great price for it: in battle he must lead from the front and incur the greatest risk.

Today we're a long way from Homeric society and Sarpedon's style of aristocratic leadership. In the military, public service or business the bulk of the "risk" falls on junior leaders - the platoon leaders and company commanders, middle managers and executives - while many at the top have the knack of taking the benefit, ducking the risk, and passing the buck.

And yet, there are top leaders who lead by example, who accept the responsibility that comes with high rank. You'd want to work for these leaders, not the other sort, right? This is worth thinking about when looking for a new job. Who are the leaders of the organization? What's their track record? Do they lead from the front, not just during the good times, but when things turn to custard?

* Book 12, lines 310-21.

The Iliad and risk

In The Iliad* the Trojan warrior Sarpedon reflects on the risks of battle...

"'My friend, if, after living through this war, we could be sure of becoming ageless and immortal, I should not fight in the front line nor send you out into the battle where men win glory. But the world is not like that. A thousand demons of death hover over us, and nobody can escape or avoid them. So in we go, whether we yield the victory to some other man, or he to us.'

So he spoke, and Glaucus did not turn back or disagree, and the two went forward at the head of a great Lycian force."

Homer suggests that even the greatest warriors are honest enough to admit that in an ideal world they would be tempted to shirk their duty. But we're stuck with the real world where we have responsibilities that entail uncertainty, risk, even danger. The way to deal with risk is to face up to it, and respond with initiative, fortitude and composure.

*Book 12, lines 322-330.

In the Phoenicians' Wake

The Phoenicians were the great seafarers of the ancient Mediterranean world. They are thought to have made the first circumnavigation of Africa around 600 BC.

Now a group of modern adventurers has built a replica sailing vessel and set sail from Syria to retrace the Phoenicians' voyage (h/t Eddie). According to this tracking site, Phoenicia has made landfall in Egypt, at the entrance to the Suez Canal. 

In The Histories, Herodotus chronicled the Phoenicians' successful voyage:

"The Phoenicians sailed from the Arabian gulf into the southern ocean, and every autumn put in at some convenient spot on the [African] coast, sowed a patch of ground, and waited for next year's harvest. Then, having got in their grain, they put to sea again, and after two full years rounded the Pillars of Heracles in the course of the third, and returned to Egypt."

The next man to try, Sataspes, wasn't so lucky. According to Herodotus, Sataspes, who had been ordered by Xerxes, King of Persia, to sail around Africa as punishment for a heinous crime, "took fright at the length and loneliness of the voyage and turned back".

Bad move, because when Sataspes returned to the Persian court, Xerxes had him impaled. The Phoenicia mariners may have to contend with pirates, rough waters, and cramped conditions, but at least if they fail they won't have to worry about that fate.

The Leadership of Marcus Aurelius

A reader asked me, "where can I learn more about Marcus Aurelius' leadership style?" Marcus Aurelius was the great Roman emperor, soldier and Stoic philosopher of the second century AD.

I'd suggest reading the writing of the man himself. Meditations is a simple yet profound work of Stoic philosophy that offers practical guidance to leaders.

Jeff recently posted video clips of a lecture by Professor Michael Sugrue. This is also worth spending time on.

Any further suggestions?

Weekend Reading: Mary Beard on the Emperor Hadrian

If you enjoy reading about Roman emperors, legions, fortifications and wars, then check out classicist Mary Beard's article on Hadrian.

Hadrian ruled the Roman empire in the early 1st century AD. He was a skilled and intelligent statesman, strategist and administrator, noted for his interests in philosophy and poetry and his patronage of the arts. Beard asks to what extent Hadrian - who appears to us as an emperor with modern tastes and modern concerns, such as the problems of ruling a large empire - is an image we have created to mirror our own preoccupations. "Hadrian seems familiar to us," she concludes, "for we have made him so".

In an article full of trenchant observations, I found this one, about the purpose of Hadrian's Wall, built across northern Britain, to be illuminating:

"Most likely it was for the control rather than the exclusion of people. The aim was to channel regular movement into certain standard crossing points...to police the migration of people both ways, and possibly also to tax the goods that came and went. On the spectrum of modern walls, that would make it closer to the Mexican border fence than to the Berlin wall."

There's an interesting parallel with early Chinese walls that were built along the northern steppe frontiers. In The Great Wall (2006), Julia Lovell argues that the walls were designed "to occupy foreign territory, to drive the nomadic inhabitants out of their land and to facilitate the setting up of military posts that would police the movement of people across these areas".

Walls, in other words, are not necessarily defensive measures. As in the Occupied Territories of the West Bank, they can serve as tools of expansion and domination.

On Leadership

What are the hallmarks of good leaders? One is that they have great self-awareness. Know yourself, and you understand your strengths, and what you can do to enhance them, and your weaknesses, and what you must do to remedy them.

Self-awareness involves reflecting about how you lead every day, whether at work, on the sports field, in community projects and so on. It also involves reflecting on how others lead, and learning from their approaches and experiences - both the good and the bad. Most of us have had the misfortune to work under a poor leader, and have come away determined not to act like that person.

The classics provide unrivalled access to the wisdom of the great leaders of antiquity, and the hard lessons they encountered in politics and war. I learned a lot about leadership by reading Julius Caesar's commentaries - The Gallic War and The Civil War - and reflecting on how this great general led his troops on campaign.

Caesar's approach to leadership was energetic and imaginative. He showed great confidence and courage, but was not afraid to admit his mistakes and learn from them. Caesar was a master of strategy, but he was swift to change tack, or to switch to a new strategy, when things weren't working. He was also deeply reflective - W B Yeats conveyed this beautifully in the poem 'Long-legged fly': "His mind moves upon silence".

Caesar also commanded strong loyalty from his soldiers. This didn't come about by accident, or because Caesar was nice to them, or because he was a great guy. Caesar kept in close personal contact with small units of men in his armies. He worked closely with his centurions, knowing their names and their records, and seeking and heeding their advice.

Recently I was talking with a man in one of my teams. He is hard-working, able, and has the potential to become a team manager. He asked if I would recommend some books on leadership to read. He must have anticipated that I would recommend "The 50 Habits of Highly Successful Managers" or some such bullshit, because he looked surprised when I suggested Xenophon's The Persian Expedition and Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. 

Why Xenophon? Because this ancient Greek commander provides us with a model of enlightened leadership - intelligent, approachable, based on example, intent on drawing out and using the ideas and skills of subordinates. 

Why Aurelius? Because this Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher (who featured briefly in the film "Gladiator") has profound but practical advice for today's leaders - on being calm, composed and dignified, even in the most trying circumstances, and on keeping things in their proper perspective. 

Watch Your Back

I agree with this BBC article (via New Risks), which sets out lessons that modern politicians can learn from the study of classical history:

"If there's one thing the classics gives you, it's a sense of what a precarious business being in charge is....Future emperors had to watch out for children, wives, bodyguards, and generals. And who to delegate power to remains one of the key challenges for any leader."

According to Suetonius, the Roman emperor Tiberius said that exercising power is like holding a wolf by the ears. In a remarkable passage from The Annals of Imperial Rome, Tacitus captures the moment when Tiberius realizes that he and his offspring are doomed: "Then, weeping bitterly and clasping his grandson Tiberius Gemellus, he said to the frowning Gaius [Caligula]: 'You will kill him! And someone else will kill you!'" (VI, 46).

It's not just politicians who can learn a thing or two from the classics. As I wrote in 'Prince of Downfalls', by reading the classical authors we learn to recognize the cloaked tactics of the calculating and the cruel, and the peril inherent in any relationship of power.