On grand strategy

John Lewis Gaddis' On Grand Strategy deals with a complex subject but in understandable and relatable terms. Gaddis, along with several other distinguished academics, teaches the "Studies in Grand Strategy" seminar at Yale University. This is a class with competitive admittance that often includes a mixture of undergraduates, graduate students, and some military professionals. This book is a distillation of that seminar.

At the heart of this book are two interrelated themes—the conceptualization and execution of "grand strategy" and the type of "genius" leadership necessary to successfully prosecute strategy. Throughout the book, Gaddis (borrowing from Isiah Berlin) sketches a historical narrative that features "hedgehogs" and "foxes." The former, like Xerxes or Vladimir Lenin, were individuals who had one holistic theory about how the world worked and sought to bend reality to that theoretical vision. Foxes, on the other hand, like Queen Elizabeth I, were subtle thinkers who saw the complexities in everyday life and sought to balance "contradictions" in their mind simultaneously.

Of course, this is mostly a false dichotomy, as even Berlin once quipped that his bifurcation of intellectuals into "hedgehogs" and "foxes" was primarily an oversimplification and attempt at some humor in an early published essay. Still, however, there is something to be said about complex thinkers like Abraham Lincoln who were able to perceive in the world all of its numerous contradictions and, as FDR once remarked, not allow his left hand to know what his right hand is doing. Their ability to execute grand strategy—the connection of nearly "infinite ends" with "finite means"—surpassed that of the "hedgehogs" like King Philip II who sought to closely tie Spanish grand strategy under his reign with his omnipresent Creator who would "provide the means" to achieve unlimited, unknowable ends. Lincoln successfully navigated the American Civil War and achieved reunion. Philip II mostly kept the Spanish Empire intact, but saw Spanish fortunes wane vis-a-vis Elizabethan England after 1588.

There is much to like about this volume, and as the quip by John Nagl says on the cover: "A book that should be read by every American leader or would-be leader." The emphasis on always aligning desired outcomes to the available means to achieve them is something that every responsible leader should consider, regardless of their respective role within an organization or nation.

I don't think I learned anything about strategy. The book does seem to be an outstanding example of hindsight bias (or maybe survivorship bias?): Gaddis's exemplars of good strategy (Octavian, Elizabeth I, Franklin Roosevelt and a few others) all seem to have muddled through challenges/wars as best they could and ultimately prevailed - otherwise, Gaddis would not have picked them. The exemplars of flawed strategies (Xerxes, Philip I, Napoleon) were also exceptionally successful people who did their best in wars, until they lost in the end, which the book argues was due to their flawed strategies. But correlation is not causation. When Queen Elizabeth balked at making certain decisions, Gaddis calls it clever "dithering" that ultimately achieved a larger purpose; when Napoleon did the same thing, Gaddis calls it indecision or paralysis. I didn't see any real, qualitative difference between the two leaders - just luck and hindsight.

Anyway, the book is still an enjoyable skip through history, from ancient Greece through World War II. It lucidly illustrates Isaiah Berlin's distinction between hedgehogs (leaders with one big idea that organizes all their actions no matter what) and foxes (leaders who juggle or switch between ideas as the the circumstances change). Gaddis says good strategy means doing both, or in his words, "a fox with a compass." That seems like an obvious cop-out, but okay. But how are we to know when lean one way or the other? Are there some rules of thumb? When should theory guide us, vs. anecdotal experiences? Gaddis gives no firm, falsifiable answers, probably because there are none. And yet the premise of his book is that there are right ways and wrong ways to make these decisions. I suspect the solution is to die before you screw up - like FDR, and unlike Napoleon.

In short, a fun historical read but it talks in circles.