Exploring the Nature of Conflict

As this year unfolded five months ago, one could argue that it is already looking suspiciously like last year. One could even argue that, nearly halfway through the second decade of a new millennium—one ushered with great expectations for a new era—looks in many respects much like the first. This is especially true of conflict, with many corners of the globe roiling with violence, desperately seeking to fend off threats of violence, or coping with anguished memories of recent violence.

One would not have to look far to find conflicts new and longstanding, wholly unexpected and entirely predictable, broad in scope and narrow in focus. Perhaps the only variable that appears with some degree of consistency is that conflict, when it involves a large geopolitical power, is likely to have continued well beyond the timetable drawn up in a long forgotten exit strategy.

 Not long ago, the billions who live in what we have labeled the developed world were relatively sheltered from the small, insidious conflicts in “remote” regions such as the Middle East, North Africa, and Southeast Asia. That, however, is a vestige of a time when geography still solidly trumped technology. It wasn’t that long ago when geographical distance routinely trumped the emerging forms of communication. For much of human history communication could only move as fast and as far as transportation, and when a messenger reached the shores of a large expanse of ocean, the message stopped with the message carrier.

Clearly, that world no longer exists. For evidence, one need but look around—in major cities and in rural villages—to catch sight of the ubiquitous cell phone. And not just any phone…a smart phone. Communication today takes place literally at the speed of light, and travel is moving ever closer to the speed of sound. As a result, many of these conflicts — including those that on the surface would appear to involve only local or regional interests — have the potential to involve powers large and small from across the globe.

Technology can be empowering. What it has yet to empower is thinking. Clear, insightful, unbiased thinking. (One could add empathy, wisdom, and understanding to a long list of other human qualities that have yet to be substantially enhanced by technology, but that would require a book to even begin to address such a far-reaching topic. Stay tuned!)

Conflict is difficult. It’s complex and confusing, and the barriers to a successful resolution can often seem, at best, intractable. Its inherently complicated, even impenetrable, nature has led many exceptionally bright analysts to argue that each conflict differs from the rest. As evidence of the “conflict is difficult, complex, and confusing” hypothesis, an equal number of equally bright analysts would make an equally compelling argument that conflicts of all types are little more than variations on a theme (or, perhaps, a very narrow range of themes).

I am moved by both premises, but tend to lean toward the universal model of conflict camp. For while there are differences — sometimes substantial differences — in their timing and timelines, their politics and purpose, all conflicts are fought on three integrated, yet distinctly different levels: the physical, the mental, and moral.

These levels of war will be explored in detail in future posts

Forcing and Fostering

While the range of idioms routinely applied to geopolitics can seem infinite, those that actually have merit—that is, accurately portray the unfolding dynamic—comprise a precious few. One that is overused yet can also graphically capture events is the approach described as the "carrot and stick." Essentially, this suggests that an adversary's (or even an ally's) behavior can be systematically shaped by the deft application of rewards (the carrot) and punishments (the stick). In the geopolitical sphere, rewards can include trade agreements, loan guarantees, and the lifting of sanctions. In turn, punishments can take the form of increased tariffs, threats of military action, and the imposition of economic embargoes.

In negotiation theory, this roughly parallels the concept of forcing and fostering strategies. Where the former employs various means of coercive power to compel specific reactions, the latter introduces attractive possibilities to encourage desired responses. Despite the common, seemingly intuitive assumption that force equals power, decades of research into the science underlying negotiations strongly suggest that more is achieved for the parties involved—both individually and collectively—through fostering approaches.

Might the same hold true in geopolitics?

Our geopolitical universe continues to mirror the physical universe. At the sub-atomic level, the galaxies, along with the individual stars and planets that comprise them, are composed of little more than energy and information. Similarly, if we were to search for the fundamental building blocks of our geopolitical universe, we would also find these same two forces at play. In a world shaped not by the laws of physics but rather by the influence of politics, economics, diplomacy, and military capabilities, we are awash in both energy (which can manifest itself in such recognizable forms as alliances, monetary policies, and arms) and information (which may appear as national security strategies, narratives, and social media).

Energy and information can be employed in a variety of creative ways to achieve geopolitical objectives. History suggests, however, that these approaches generally fall into the same two primary categories: forcing and fostering. Through economic sanctions or military action, we try to force our adversary to bend to our desires. And when they do, it is almost always because they were left with no other reasonable alternative. By offering economic support or protection under our military umbrella, we hope to foster cooperation in achieving shared goals. And when they offer that cooperation, they do so because it is a more attractive option that others available to them. Therein lies the fundamental difference between force and power.

Traditional Eastern philosophy has long endorsed the idea of fostering as the ultimate form of power, while dismissing the employment of force as a viable means for securing an objective. In The Art of War, master strategist Sun Tzu argues against the folly of pursuing a brutal war of attrition and instead offers this sublime message: 

“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”

Consistent with that theme, Lao Tzu, the legendary sage who is thought to have penned the timeless Tao Te Ching (believed to be the spiritual foundation of the Art of War), offers a similar thought that is an ironic—and certainly counterintuitive—element of human nature:

“Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom.

Mastering others is force; mastering yourself is true power.”

Using the terminology and the philosophical construct this passage sets forth, the challenge—whether it comes in the form of countering extremist narratives, orchestrating the rapprochement between two contentious nations, resolving religious-based violence, or settling intraorganizational discord—the pursuit of power too often involves the use of force over others rather than addressing our own shortfalls. This, in turn, arises from an obsession with knowing everything possible about our potential adversaries while become effectively blind to what we have become. Against this background, it thus becomes relatively easy to understand that in any calculus involving energy and information, if either factor is negative, the product will be substantially diminished.

In future blog posts, we will explore how the building blocks of our geopolitical world—energy and information—are being used to generate either force or power. What we find is sure to speak volumes about how a given scenario is likely to develop.

(Note: This post is drawn from an IntelBrief the author originally prepared for The Soufan Group. That IntelBrief can be found here.)

National Security Interrogations: Myth v. Reality

In 2011, the independent think tank, Third Way, asked me to write a paper that offered an objective and systematic overview of the challenges, opportunities, and limitations associated with interrogations of high value detainees. The conclusions drawn in that paper are even more relevant today with the decision by the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence to release its report on the Central Intelligence Agency's interrogation program.

In preparing that paper, I sought to address the following key points:

• What interrogation actually is (and why fictional portrayals muddy the waters);

• How coercive practices actually undermine interrogators’ long-term goals; and

• Why experienced interrogators know that rapport-building is the most effective means to extract valuable information from detainees.

You can read the paper, National Security Interrogations: Myth v. Reality, on the Third Way website. (Thanks to Mieke Eoyang, Third Way's Director of the National Security Program, for her encouragement and invaluable assistance.)

Thinking about geopolitical thinking...

The fundamental aims of this website are twofold. I first hope to conduct an ongoing exploration into the major geopolitical challenges facing the global community in a world shaped by volatility, uncertainty, complexity, and ambiguity. Secondly—and more importantly—my intention is to carefully, systematically, and thoughtfully consider the range of elegant, unconventional, and constructive strategies for preventing and resolving conflict. Key to both of these objectives is a relentless refinement in thinking.

Decision-making, especially in the context of geopolitics, seems to be informed less by real thinking and more by rapid reactions to complex scenarios. Judgments are made with haste and, once reached, remain steadfast even in light of new evidence to suggest both a different perspective and approach are needed. Being resolute and steady at the helm are seen as virtues among leaders, while being adaptive to rapidly, sometimes dramatically shifting circumstances is largely underrated.

By way of illustration, the tall oak is admired for its strength and stature until, unable to sufficiently bend in the face of fierce winds from an angry storm, it is broken and forgotten. When the sun returns, the tallest remaining oak quickly becomes the much respected pinnacle of strength despite the fact that its strength is, during turbulent times, its vital weakness. In contrast, the bamboo tree that grows in the shadows garners little respect; it is seen as weak in comparison to the larger and seemingly more formidable oak. Yet it thrives even during the greatest of storms when its ability to bend in the face of even the harshest winds enables it to survive unbroken. It alleged weakness is, during turbulent times, it critical strength.

In this new era—where change occurs at unprecedented speed—our thinking must reflect more of the bamboo tree and less of the oak. We would be well served by embracing thinking as a multidimensional process, one that involves interactive cognitive, emotional, and spiritual components. Similarly, there are an array of approaches to thinking that must operate synergistically. Primary among these are strategic thinking, critical thinking, and creative thinking. Tapping into this elegant triumvirate is the key to effectively addressing — and ultimately resolving — the most vexing problems before us.

There are storms ahead.

A Vision So Noble

When one thinks of history's greatest strategists, names such as Clausewitz, Sun Tzu, Jomini, and Mahan almost always make the short list.  In making such an assessment, antiquity appears to routinely trump contemporary experience, even when the basis of a strategic paradigm is based on observations of a mode of conflict that have but a tenuous threat connecting them to the modern world.

It thus may take a few more generations to pass before a certain 20th century strategist is recognized for his unique contribution to strategic thought.  This individual is worthy of our admiration for his unprecedented ability to deconstruct a modern landscape shaped by volatility, uncertainty, complexity, and ambiguity (VUCA) and for the cognitive tools he developed for effectively navigating that landscape in a thoughtful, systematic, creative, and ultimately useful manner.

A fighter pilot by training, John Boyd leveraged the sheer power of an insatiable curiosity and impressive intellect to construct a strategic view that was nothing short of brilliant, an elegant  synthesis of the best ideas from a broad array of disciplines -- from philosophy to quantum physics to biology.  He offered -- for those willing to explore a strategic framework that reflected a truly renaissance way of thinking -- a wholly new paradigm for approaching the most vexing problems inherent in conflict.

A veteran of deadly aerial combat in the Korean War, he was unimpressed with the alleged value (or necessity) of attrition warfare (one that places great emphasis on body counts as a primary metric) in achieving national interests.  Instead, his model of conflict exquisitely incorporated the moral, physical, and cognitive elements of warfare in a manner that paralleled an approach espoused by the esteemed strategist, Sun Tzu, over 2500 years ago: "Taking all under heaven without conflict is the acme of skill."

With an aim toward "taking all under heaven without conflict," Boyd's architecture was shaped by a vision that should be established as the moral foundation for  every national security strategy published by the United States:

"For success over the long haul and under the most difficult conditions, one needs some unifying vision that can be used to attract the uncommitted as well as pump-up friendly resolve and drive and drain-away or subvert adversary resolve and drive...a vision rooted in human nature so noble, so attractive that it not only attracts the uncommitted and magnifies the spirit and strength of its adherents, but also undermines the dedication and determination of any competitors or adversaries...a grand ideal, overarching theme, or noble philosophy...within which individuals as well as societies can shape and adapt to unfolding circumstances-yet offers a way to expose the flaws of the competing or adversary system."

Conflict, in the end, is ultimately a battle over ideas -- some small and self-serving, others grand and all-encompassing.  The moral high ground in such a battle can always be found in a vision rooted in human nature so noble.

Nobility.  Humanity.  Vision.  These are the building blocks of deep strategy.

The Quantum Physics of Geopolitics

(Note: "The Quantum Physics Behind the Death of Osama bin Laden" was featured at Forbes.com on May 5, 2011.)

The death of Osama bin Laden, while a geostrategic event of real importance, is also a prime example of how three principles drawn from quantum physics can explain both the reality and the potential of any such occurrence in the realm of international affairs.

The first principle is that this incident – or, more precisely, the news of this incident – is comprised of nothing more than energy and information, the same two fundamental building blocks from which everything in the universe is formed.  The second principle is that the mere fact of its observation will influence how it ultimately takes shape.  The third principle involves the concept of nonlocality, that an event occurring in one physical space has the potential to profoundly alter events that unfold elsewhere.  The combination of these three principles offers a framework for eliciting more meaningful and enduring insights into the import of this event.

With respect to the first principle, we have, on the surface, the following information: bin Laden was killed during a unilateral raid by U.S. Special Forces at a secure residence located well inside Pakistan.  What attracts greater attention (an important aspect when we get to the second principle) are the additional details that he was the leader of al Qaeda, the organization behind the attacks of 9/11 and the figurehead for a movement to restore the Caliphate in the Middle East.  What brings this information into play is the emotional energy attached to it – from the euphoric celebrations in front of the White House to the angry reactions within Pakistan.  The combination of this energy and information proved sufficient to temporarily move the major stock exchanges, shift antiterrorist programs into high gear, and cause heated debate within American political circles as to who should rightfully take credit for the killing.

This leads to the second principle, where the mere fact of human observation will change the nature of the event.  In America (and, perhaps, the west), the death of bin Laden will be heralded as a major success in the war on terror and further evidence of the efficacy of the intelligence-drives-kinetic-energy approach to counterterrorism.  Such a perspective may even seek to reframe this event as a culminating point of victory in the battle against Islamic extremism (the “cut off the head of the snake and it will die” philosophy).

In contrast, human observation in the Middle East (and, perhaps, Southeast Asia and the Horn of Africa), frame this in a far different light.  From this perspective, the killing of bin Laden is simply additional evidence of America’s systematic disregard for the sovereign rights of nations with Muslim majorities and his death – at the hands of the crusaders no less – has turned a man surrounded by myth into a truly mythical icon for the ages.

Finally, there is the nonlocal element.  One hundred years ago, the death of bin Laden would have been, at best, a regional story; with modern technology, housewives in Jakarta have almost as much visibility on the event as do the analysts at the National Counterterrorism Center and are, potentially, almost as directly impacted.  The rate and volume of information flow surrounding an event of this nature has the potential to drive national policy and to change vacation plans in equal measure.  The concern in this regard is that technology continues to evolve far more quickly than the ability of the human brain to make sense of a flood of data.  Hence, the rationale for an Indonesian housewife to change her family’s plans for a holiday are as about as valid is that used to alter a nation’s approach to counterterrorism.

The process of drawing a unified field theory on international relations that combines the influence of these three principle requires the same mental construct Einstein cited as vital to his breakthrough thinking about the nature of the universe at high speeds: imagination.  Imagine, then, the possible ramifications of the death of bin Laden on the geostrategic landscape.

     • With the loss of the heroic figure in the organization’s central narrative, entropy descends upon al Qaeda and it fairly quickly perishes amid competing agendas and personality conflicts.

     • The Taliban can no longer be held responsible for protecting the mastermind behind the September 11th attacks; as a result, the U.S. leverages this as an opportunity to reduce and ultimately withdraw its presence from Afghanistan.

     • Given that bin Laden’s presence at a large, fortified compound within Pakistan could hardly escape notice by Pakistan’s intelligence and security service (the ISI), the Pakistani leadership moves to finally clean house in, and take control of, the far-reaching ISI apparatus.

     • The above scenario proves unsuccessful for the Pakistani leadership; instead, the ISI moves to clean house in Islamabad and takes real or virtual control of government affairs.

     • In the end, al Qaeda continues is effort to appear relevant, U.S. counterterrorism policies and its presence in Afghanistan remain unchanged (with victory of some order declared in both arenas); Pakistan remains badly divided by the schizophrenic pursuit of its own interests while trying not to trod too heavily on the interests of its alleged allies, resulting in a continuation of the muddling policies of a nuclear-capable nation; and the argument over which party is tougher on terrorism will be a critical point of debate in the next U.S. presidential election.

The ultimate outcome is likely explained not by quantum physics, but rather by Newton’s mechanical model, specifically his first law of thermodynamics: In the absence of forces, a body at rest will stay at rest, and a body moving at a constant velocity in a straight line continues doing so indefinitely.  Translation: After a temporary period of heightened threats of attacks (balanced by an extended period and substantial investment in antiterrorism programs), the body (i.e., the Earth) will simply continue in the constant state of conflict and peace, of instability and stability, and of threats and countermeasures.

Moral Hazard in Geopolitics

(Note: This post was originally written in 2011.)

To better understand a lingering deficit in true strategic thinking – this time involving Western intervention in Libya—it might help to turn first to a concept drawn from the dismal science that provides a graphic parallel for how even the best minds (and certainly the less-than-best-minds) may be so easily led astray.  Sadly, the end state will likely be as hopeless as it was predictable.

History is replete with examples of financial debacles that resulted from flawed decision-making.  While this occurs even after a legion of MBAs diligently crunched the numbers, the fact that this almost always unfolds against the lingering shadow of risk (that is, money, market share, and even the company’s future itself may be at stake in the outcome), a certain period of hand-wringing and second-guessing may prevent a senseless leap into the abyss.

This rational calculus, however, may be completely upset in instances where decisions are rendered in the real or imagined belief that the consequences might be minimal or that any losses might be readily and expediently made up by another party.  This seemingly rare situation is referred to by economists – and those who wish to offer proof of their Ivy League education – as moral hazard theory.  In essence, moral hazard results when an individual, a group, a company, and even a nation enters into needlessly risky ventures based on the belief (once again, real or imaginary) that they are somehow insulated from the risk that is naturally – and unavoidably – present in markets and in international affairs.

The insidious product of a moral hazard scenario is that people will invariably behave far differently than they would if circumstances required a more thoughtful risk-reward analysis.  And different, in this context, almost always means recklessly!

Let’s return to the geostrategic context.

When faced with the complex and challenging issues surrounding the decision to engage in conflict – whether launching a war (think the U.S. invasion of Iraq circa 2003) or deploying air power to intervene in an existing domestic brawl (think NATO in Libya circa 2011) – members of the power elite too often try to prove their mastery of strategic affairs by challenging one another to identify what the exit strategy might be in a given scenario.  While no public figure as yet offered anything close to a meaningful definition of that term, despite its use ad nauseam, it would be safe to describe it as a plan for disengaging from a conflict that has gone hopelessly awry.  Put in other words, it is an alleged plan for retreating with some semblance of nobility when the initial confidence in swift victory has been replaced by the sobering recognition that failure is the likely outcome.  (When this involves major powers, failure – as will be described in greater detail in future blogs – includes situations where the costs in blood and treasure of the so-called victory are so staggering and unexpected that the win looks an awful lot like a loss!)

As we follow the semi-entertaining pattering of leaders with absolutely no grounding in strategic thinking (and with no subtitles to help us understand the dialogue), we have had to learn how to translate these statements ourselves.  With reference to exit strategies, our translation often runs something akin to the following:

Political Leader: “And as we reluctantly send our noble young men and women into battle for this important cause, we do so with a definitive exit strategy!”

Translation: “As we once again needlessly squander the potential of the next generation without the benefit of real thinking – or a deep strategy that we keep hearing about on an irritating blog – we do so knowing that we will pull them out well before the voting public tries to remove us from office!”

It may surprise you, dear reader, to know that the term exit strategy has the same ultimate meaning – and relevance – as the term “shadow of a doubt” does as a standard for weighing evidence.  (Just in case you haven’t served on a jury recently, as your humble blogger did just last week, the standard is “beyond a reasonable doubt,” the former finding currency only in poor legal dramas found on television).  That is, it is essentially meaningless.

From what I have thus far uncovered, the idea of an exit strategy originated in the Pentagon during the waning years of the Vietnam War, when planners began to finally accept the reality that 1) prospects for a conventional victory were looking increasingly elusive, 2) the American public’s patience for an increasingly costly war was wearing thin, and 3) the large military power’s inescapable vulnerability to small insurgent movements was becoming rapidly evident (again).  To borrow from the Vietnamese language, it was time to di di mau (roughly translated as “get the f*** out as quickly as possible”). 

In sum, it is not a concept promoted by the venerable strategists of antiquity such as Clausewitz or Sun Tzu.  Similarly, “Begin with Failure in Mind” did not make it into Stephen Covey’s Habits of Highly Effective People.

Ironically (or, perhaps, naturally), an exit strategy seems primarily the province of politicians who, it should be noted, frequently throw about the term strategy when what they really mean planning.  (And while there is such a thing as strategic planning, a plan must never be confused with a strategy.)

Finally, back to Libya.  (I hope you packed a lunch to get this far.)

As Western powers consider the extent to which they will support the revolutionary forces arrayed against Qaddafi, the primary focus appears not how effective (or relevant) air power might be in this situation, but how assets – and national pride – might be recovered if things turn south.

The real (perhaps existential) problem with the concept of the exit strategy is that is does little more than muddy the intellectual and strategic waters.  It siphons away the cognitive energy and deep imagination (the ability to consider possible opportunities and consequences well beyond the tertiary level) required to accurately assess a situation and craft a deep strategy (a coherent framework that systematically links a clear, unambiguous, and definitively worthwhile objective with the available resources).

Perhaps worst of all, the apparent availability of an exit strategy is likely introduce the dreaded moral hazard, which will inevitably cause politicians to believe they are protected from risk and are therefore relieved of the burden of deep thinking.  This, in turn, makes deep wisdom (knowing that sometimes the most effective action is not taking action, the best strategy of engagement is not engaging) fundamentally impossible.