The noisy giants dragged me on the long threatened trip underwater a couple of weekends ago, in a pilgrimage to strengthen the treaty with allies in Brooklyn. Brooklyn’s motto is Eendraght Maeckt Maght, or “In unity, there is strength.” Very Sun Tzu, and appropriate for our discussion.
I provided this Spanish lesson to return the favor.
Marginal progress over the past few days: the scratchy one keeps up his facade of going to “work.” He must know, that I know, that he’s off vainly searching for allies. Keeping up appearances, and all that.
The useful one is holding up much better than I hoped, in light of the new sole responsibility of day-jailor. It looks to be as I feared: they were smart enough to keep strength in defense. I have begun working on some new milk (and other) bomb recipes, which require additional fussy work on my part. As the noisy giants become less traumatized by my random acts of disruption this becomes necessary, and brings me to my martial topic for the day: energy.
Amid the turmoil and tumult of battle, there may be seeming disorder and yet no real disorder at all; amid confusion and chaos, your array may be without head or tail, yet it will be proof against defeat.
Sun Tzu discusses energy (Chapter V) as a requirement to sustain troops over the course of direct (CHENG) and indirect (CH`I) actions both against and by, the enemy. While this encompasses many topics, you get the gist from the example: “simulated disorder postulates perfect discipline.” I am my army, so I’ve pressing myself on discipline:
convincing screaming – when the time comes to raise the alarm and raise the troops
bulking up – an exhausting routine in of itself, but I will need the energy to sustain
increasing diversity of milk bombs – I’ve stepped back from my lack of warnings (deception unnecessarily consumes energy at this stage), and am learning more about timing and strengths
In learning how to best make use of my own energy, and planning against that of the noisy giants, a quote from commentator Tu Mu comes to mind:
He first of all considers the power of his army in the bulk; afterwards he takes individual talent into account, and uses each men according to his capabilities. He does not demand perfection from the untalented.”
Despite my talent, they outnumber me. I need to consider my CHENG and CH`I.
The scratchy giant has begun disappearing during the day. This concerns me, as I believe it a ruse. But to what end?
He and the useful one discuss him returning to “work,” suggestively within my earshot. But what work is he qualified for? I only scream for two reasons, and it takes him forever to figure it out. So, I find myself dismissing the idea of him in any role requiring mental acuity. What ever he’s doing, he clearly relies on the useful one’s reputation rather than his own guile. Frustratingly, my spies offer no word, but still I’ve made it known this information is top priority; he could be recruiting allies. However concerning, there is also opportunity.
Sun Tzu tells us in Chapter IV of The Art of War, Tactical Dispositions, that victory comes from our opponents’ mistakes. Deliberate separation of the two giants seems mine to pounce upon. As they begin to become accustomed to sleep deprivation, they begin to forget the weakness that comes along with it, and I work to increase it.
To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself.
Last night, playing along with their ruse of the scratchy one return to “work,” I released my most perfect milk bomb at 2:45am. The sad sleepy-eyed scramble was an event to write home about, while I then slept like a log.
Now the useful is alone during the day, and especially sleep deprived after my early-morning stunt. Next stop, Stockholm Syndrome. Let’s face it, I’m pretty damn cute. How long could it take? Once I win her over, I’m confident the scratchy one will fall quickly and whatever he’s up to during the day will matter little.
They doesn’t seem to to understand. I’m not locked in here with them. They’re locked in here with ME!
Ooooooh, yesterday was a good day. Sun Tzu tells us the second best generalship is to “prevent the junction of the enemy’s forces.” Boy did I. The noisy giants were showing me off as war spoils to prospective allies in the CT-NY Creighton Axis (what’s a babysitter?) when I let go the king of all milk bombs. Shut those negotiations down quick, son!
I’ve been rethinking chapter 2 of The Art of War, and the application of logistics. It makes me wonder whether the management craze of Business Is War is right, but for the wrong reasons.
I don’t mean the military industrial complex, but rather “capital B” Business. Like any other complex undertaking, Business is a lot about logistics if you’re in the for the long run. How do I hire, train, and retain the right people? What marketing campaigns do I undertake to grow the brand my customers trust? How do I ensure the right, and evolving, financial structure to undertake all of these and everything else I need to accomplish? War as a metaphor creates unnecessary antagonism and selfishly reduces opportunities to cooperate in “expanding the pie”.
[S]upreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.
We had a reasonably disruptive morning, set off a well-timed milk bomb just before their final sleep. Nuked it from orbit. Proud of the timing, but was hoping to have some new tactics by now.
In retaliation, they decided to waterboard me later in the morning. Not cool. However, I stayed strong, and now, strangely, I smell pretty good and my hair looks great. Didn’t see that coming.
No real update on The Art of War. I’ll admit it. I’m struggling to find relevance in the second chapter, which is mostly logistics. I’m more of a gorilla warfare type guy, so maybe I should have started with Mao or Ché. I’m pretty sure Mao didn’t care how often the chariots are reloaded.
There is one gem in this chapter though:
[T]hough we have heard of stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been seen associated with long delays.
A smart contrast to, “haste makes waste,” Sun Tzu articulates something we recognize inherently – when opportunity arises, act. This ties in nicely with something he wrote in the previous chapter about the five constant factors, rules are made to be broken.
[A]vail yourself also of any helpful circumstances over and beyond the ordinary rules.
The great tactician is not the only one to advocate breaking the rules.
Don’t be a member of Clausewitz’s school because a lot has happened since 1832, and don’t be a member of Sun Tzu’s school because an awful lot has happened since 400 BC. If you’re going to regard this stuff [including Boyd’s own] as dogma you’d be better served to take it out and burn it.
That’s where the art of this comes in. Caravaggio and Van Gogh had the same set of painting rules as everyone else, but knowing when to break them is what made them great painters. When you substitute painter for leader, they are still models. Both put painting before everything else. Sadly, neither had a happy life, but as painters. Wow.
[Hat tip to my brother-in-arms, Soren, for the pointer to the Boyd paper.]
The truth of this pithy and profound saying will be admitted by every soldier. – Lionel Giles, first European translator of The Art of War that wasn’t “excessively bad.”
Battle of Changping, 262~260 BC, between Qin and Zhao, around a million troops were involved.
The noisy giants have both the home field advantage and months of advanced preparation. All I have my cunning wit and their exhaustion (the scratchy one was so tired yesterday, he forgot how to floss). They have the advantage in both strength and numbers. But I have deception.
According to Sun Tzu, the great teacher and tactician, there are five constant factors which govern the art of war. Here is how I am using them in my campaign against the noisy giants.
The Moral Law – Constant practice makes perfect and prepared. I work every day ensuring my skills are up to snuff.
Heaven – Be aware of, and use, local conditions. Some tactics may work in some weather, and not in others. The straightjackets the noisy giants use, despite foiling my escape, preserve my body heat and keep me well rested – ready to pounce at any minute.
Earth – understand distances. I used my “loud sleeping” tactic to force a move to the side of the bed where the scratchy one sleeps. Although he’s the heavier sleeper, when they do get me up, this means they are both awake. Tiring two foes for the price of one diaper.
Commander – the virtues of wisdom, sincerity, benevolence, courage, and strictness. Let’s remember, just because I’m held against my will and paraded around like a spoil of war, I’m only destroying them because I never want to have to make that point again.
Method and Discipline – I’m slightly inverting the great teacher’s writing. He says that conduct of an army and the infrastructure supporting it can win or lose a battle before it is ever fought. In this case, I’m looking from the noisy giants’ perspective and sabotaging their long term capabilities.
I plan to continue my lessons from Sun Tzu and other great tacticians as long as I am able. It is dangerous enough getting my updates out, I feel it is important that future generations may be able to learn from my hard won lessons.
The Thirty-Six Strategems advise us to “wait at leisure while the enemy labors.” I deliberately planned no offensive last night, and undertook a well-deserved deep sleep*. The noisy ones were unprepared for my tactics, as usual, and were up throughout the night checking to ensure I hadn’t escaped.
Hahaaahaahaha. They’re exhausted! This is too easy.
*Have you tried these? They’re new to me, but amazing! I recommend giving it a shot.
Change of tactics last night. I undertook a dual-win strategy with my relationship with the noisy giants – what happens if I let them sleep?
Providing two 3-hour unbroken stretches of sleep, I not only continued my strategic erraticism, but also wanted to see how they react to an unplanned kindness. I read somewhere that belligerent abusiveness with unconnected kindness is how cult leaders begin to brainwash their intended inductees.
Note to self: plan for larger delays in deploying milk bombs. The scratchy one does much of the burping, but premature release unexpectedly caught the useful one this morning. Thus, disappointingly failing to drive a wedge in loyalties. The scratchy one is less inclined to dress me, so a proper disguise for my escape relies on the kindness of the useful one. This detail requires additional rumination.
I have to call the experiment a qualified success. With more sleep, they were up and out of the apartment early, and I had another necessary opportunity to reconnoiter the area, but the chance was lost. They might be smarter than they look, as I suspect they poison my meals – I immediately fall asleep as soon as they leave the apartment, and lose another valuable opportunity to understand the layout and plan my way out of this hellish place.
Marginal progress over the past few days: the scratchy one keeps up his facade of going to “work.” He must know, that I know, that he’s off vainly searching for allies. Keeping up appearances, and all that.