Sorry, I’m so heavy on this. But I just added to the Book Quotes and Passages Thread.

HERE are some absolutely stellar pieces from Gavin De Becker, who wrote The Gift of Fear.

“The way circus elephants are trained demonstrates this dynamic well: When young, they are attached by heavy chains to large stakes driven deep into the ground. They pull and yank and strain and struggle, but the chain is too strong, the stake too rooted. One day they give up, having learned they cannot pull free, and from that day forward they can be “chained” with a slender rope. When this enormous animal feels any resistance, thought it has the strength to pull the whole circus tent over, it stops trying. Because it believes it cannot, it cannot.

This opera is being sung in homes all over America right, the stakes driven in to the ground, the heavy chains attached, the children reaching the point they believe they cannot pull free. And at that point, they cannot. ”

De Becker, Gavin

The Gift of Fear

I can’t take the original credit for catching the applicability and transcendence of such an anecdote, but I can expand on it. Tucker pointed me towards Vincent Bugliosi–the man who tried Manson (Helter Skelter is the #1 crime bestseller of all time) and the Palliko-Stockton murders, and said I could learn from Bugliosi’s rhetorical strategy. And that his method of pre-emption was particularly clever.

“Whenever I know the defense is going to present evidence damaging to the

judge’s chambers or in open court.”–Vincent Bugliosi, “Till Death Do Us Part”

And so the above passage is the one I really latched on to. Remember that the prosecution goes first in closing arguments, which can indeed leave them open to attacks on context or interpretation. But Bugliosi turned this curse into an asset. Instead of waiting for criticism from the defense, he criticized himself–pointing out the prosecution’s own weakness, or at least acknowledging the jury’s potential to see one. And thusly, when it comes time for the defense to mouth the same words, they appear shill or redundant. Like he says, it doesn’t eliminate the validity of the critique, rather the volume at which it is said. You frame the debate on your terms, and then the response, at least to some degree, is under your control. Of course, no one is arguing complete transparency of strategy. Machiavelli would roll over in his grave at that. In this case, you’re simply using the appearance of nobility or truth to your benefit–and the cost is slight illumination of a few specifically chosen faults. After all, if someone is willing to talk openly of something, it can’t really be that bad, right? That is the impression you want to give.

The implications of this is twofold. One, realize that when you see transparency or seemingly self-deprecating honesty, be suspicious. Realize that there may be ulterior motives. That perhaps your attention is being directed at something with the hope of a superficial glance at the present instead of an investigative one on your own recognizance. Two, see how rarely our leaders or businesses use this to their advantage. How often is the Bush administration secretive about things that we would have likely dismissed had then been forthcoming. And how this repeated mistake has lead to almost a universal mistrust of the government and thus a strategic crippling. There is an abundance of political theorists who think Clinton could have avoided his historical scarlet letter had he addressed the accusations openly and in advance–much in the same manner that Gavin Newsome recently has.

Accordingly, this will become something I’d like to incorporate into my daily strategy. Putting forth–in open court–the manageable weaknesses that I have, and think that if attacked I could sustain. Mark Cuban said something recently to the effect of “lies in sunlight are less dangerous than ones that live in the shadows.” People are very much aware of this fact; so when you put debatable issues out for all to see, their ominous nature disappears. From this, their potential to harm you is lessened. What Bugliosi did was take criticisms off the table, ironically, by pushing them closer towards the center. So for instance, in some sort of political discussion, look three or four arguments ahead and bring them up yourself. Tacking on a “but I still don’t think that changes the fact that…” blocks a check or even a checkmate from occurring. Then, that you seem more honest than your counterparts is an added benefit.

When you look at your own actions, or that of your company, or of your friends, ask “How could I defeat myself?” Play devil’s advocate, always. And then incorporate those opposing strategies into your own. Turn the counterargument into collieries of the original–and by default the counterargument is no longer an effective one. As John Boyd advocated, you’re simply getting inside their loop and making it your own. As with all strategies, there are exceptions, but I think the applications of this one, in both business, war and life are pretty large.

I’ve been mulling over The Strategy Paradox for the last few days, and found it to be super interesting. The theory has two assumptions:

1) A successful strategy requires full commitment

2) Full commitment, in light of unpredictable futures, can mean catastrophic failure

And thus, the more you strategize, the more likely you are to be both massively successful and massively unsuccessful. The only middle ground–and often the most commonly taken–is mediocrity, where the company is neither successful or driven out of business.

Raynor, the author of the book, poses a conclusion we often find ourselves also coming to:

“The only way [Company X] could have managed the situation any better is to have predicted the future…and that of course, is impossible. The future never gets here.”

He sees strategies as equity or stock. You’re purchasing the stock, and if you guessed right, you make money and if you guess wrong, you lose. The real way to succeed then, is to buy options on stocks. Essentially, to set up multiple, concurrent strategy options, from which you can then “agree to buy” the winners. These options then make your chosen strategy mobile in the face on an unpredictable future. This gives you strategic flexibility.

The book is solid, but of course, almost 100% applied to business. I think it’d be interesting to see it applied to life. Too often, people my age are fully dedicated to a single career path–which in turn would likely insure success in that field. The only problem then, is that if they hate the job (which in all likelihood they will) they have no where to turn. It seems to me that the key to strategic flexibility in life is to sow the seeds to a renaissance existence. Foster your interests in multiple fields, so that in light of the future, you have the ability to quickly ramp up one to dedicate your life around.

In other words, create options instead of commitments. Let’s say I want to be a writer (which, to some extent I do) how can I dedicate myself to a single path, when it’s clear that the distribution habits of publishers and reading habits of the audience are going to drastically change? I think the key is to focus where Rudius authors are focusing: creating quality content that is easily adaptable to multiple mediums. By investing in each medium, I (as well as anyone else with foresight) can then ramp up production in the ones with audiences and stop altogether in the ones that fail.

But the main message of his book–above anything else–is that an option is not an option if you cannot abandon it. Because then, it’s not an option but an obligation. He warns against our “propensity to view any retreat as a sign of weakness rather than prudence.” And I think that’s wise.