What’s it about?: The third book in Robert Greene‘s series on power, seduction, and war, The 33 Strategies of War draws upon thousands of years of conflict to deliver a modern treatise on war and strategic thinking. Political, philosophical and religious texts are explored, analysed and synthesised. Examples from history make up every chapter, including the likes of Napoleon, Shaka the Zulu, Ulysses S. Grant, and a whole host of people not of military backgrounds, from diplomats to power brokers in the film industry.
My opinion: When I think of Greene, The 48 Laws of Power and Mastery usually come up first and second. 33 Strategies is a very close third. It has the same awesome storytelling of its predecessors.
The strategies are divided into different sections: Self-directed warfare, organisational (team) warfare, defensive warfare, offensive warfare, and unconventional (dirty) warfare. Some strategies are straightforward and goal-oriented, some appeal to the warriors ability to outsmart the enemy, while others are Machiavellian in their cruelty and deception. All come back to the ability to master one’s emotions under pressure. The ability to see things as they are, to judge people by their actions, develop your own mind, emphasise strategic thinking over brute force, think about the longterm, and always improve oneself. These are the fundamental ideals that underpin the strategies Greene lays out. The reader should always remember them going in.
A lot of these laws and strategies are difficult for a normal person to apply to their lives, I’ll grant you that. As an educator, I consider myself a keeper of the piece rather than a soldier. However, some really do resonate; one in particular:
Trade Space for Time.
The eleventh strategy in the book, and also known as the non-engagement strategy, trading space for time sits in the defensive category. It comes from the famous Napoleon quote, “Space I can recover, time never.” Say what you will about Napoleon, but I think we can apply this to various contexts in our lives. Say you have a job that pays well. In a time when the cost of living keeps rising, there is an element of security in that. But what if you hate the very nature of the job? The hours? A dead end, with no room for growth? Some get to a point where they tell themselves, “This isn’t worth it.” The salary you might be able to recover, but the time wasted, you can’t. Kids don’t know where they’ll be in the next five years, a high ATAR score and getting into Monash or UniMelb seems pointless, so they drop out and just work for a few years. Sounds ridiculous, but in the modern world, many people have given up things they’ve worked so hard to achieve. Jobs, money, education, scholarships, etc. Some have not only done this more than once; they’ve embraced the process. To stay out of obligation is just the “sunk cost fallacy” to them.
“Retreat in the face of a strong enemy is not a sign of weakness but of strength,” Greene explains. “By resisting the temptation to respond to an aggressor, you buy yourself valuable time – time to recover, to think, to gain perspective. Sometimes you can accomplish most by doing nothing.” Greene cites Mao Tse-tung’s guerrilla tactics against the Nationalists, and a series of tactical retreats that showcased his strategic thinking and helped earn him the position of de facto leader of the Red Army. As opposed to a long, drawn-out struggle to win by brute force against an overwhelming opponent. To advance would be to go backwards, to create more obstacles for oneself.
“War is deceptive,” Greene says. “You may think that you are strong and that you are making advances against an enemy, but time may show that you were actually marching into great danger. You can never really know, since our immersion in the present deprives us of true perspective. The best you can do is to rid yourself of lazy, conventional patterns of thinking. Advancing is not always good; retreating is not always weak.”
However, Greene also explains how this can all backfire. “Retreat must never be an end in itself; at some point you have to turn around and fight,” he says. “If you don’t, retreat is more accurately called surrender: the enemy wins. Combat is in the long run unavoidable. Retreat can only be temporary.”
Sometimes you accomplish the most by doing nothing. This is not out of sloth. You hear people talk about “choosing your battles” in just about any realm, and for me, trading space for time is exactly that; a longterm plan that requires patience and discipline. I can’t imagine walking into the classroom or the staffroom, sounding off about each and every objection I have about policy, curriculum, or my colleagues. Rather, I try to be an example, with the hope of pushing discussions where I want them to go.
Which isn’t easy in my line of work–a world where every breath you take can seem metric-based, but what’s the alternative? Put on the battle armour every morning, and come in throwing everything I have at the wall and seeing what sticks?
Be the first one to show up every morning…
Be the last one to leave…
Put precisely this many hours into unit- and lesson-planning…
There has to be an easier way to do xyz…
My way is the best…
No thank you. What purpose does any of it serve? Constantly having to catch my breath from my own noise. Pointlessly ticking boxes, like those cyclists who stop when their odometer stops functioning. Insanely counterproductive at best; paralysing at worst. It’s obsessive, and I came dangerously close to fumbling my first teaching placement because of it. Knowing when to pause, to retreat for the day, to just leave things alone, are much better alternatives.
I can’t think of a time I read one of Robert Greene’s books and didn’t love it, so being the biased reader that I am, I highly recommend The 33 Strategies of War. The examples and stories from history Greene has chosen, combined with his eye for detail and sophisticated writing style, make for a rich text with lessons that can be applied to various aspects of human relationships. To make our minds stronger, and better understand the constant tug-of-war between our emotions and our capacity for rational thought. It’s why I find myself revisiting it regularly. Essential reading for anyone interested in history and strategy.
Lawrence Deveney 