Leave Out the "China"

Those who have been following the news, not only in the last few weeks but for the last few years, know that Beijing has been doing a considerable amount of saber rattling at sea. In fact, China claims the entire South China Sea as sovereign territory. Well, I say we launch a simple campaign to resist Chinese encroachment on the international waters off her coast. Instead of calling them the "East China Sea" and the "South China Sea", why not simply the "East Sea" and "South Sea"? They don't belong to China, so why should we pretend they do? (Admittedly, there will be some confusion with the southern half of the Pacific Ocean, once known as the South Sea or Seas. But that's a bit of an archaic usage, so I think we can manage.)

An Ancient Approach to Political Warfare - Part II

Continued from Part I.

Aristotle, in his Rhetoric, contends that “since the objective of rhetoric is judgment… we must have regard not only to the speech’s being demonstrative and persuasive, but also to… bringing the giver of judgment [i.e. the audience] into a certain condition” (2.1). This requires an understanding of the audience and the sorts of things to which they are attentive; thus, Aristotle spends all of Section 7 discussing the possible characters of men who may hear a speech. The rhetors of the Old Testament understood that their audience valued history and historical continuity; thus, they made a point of framing their message in these terms, often invoking the prophecies of old.

This approach to appropriating tradition for propagandistic purposes was not unique to the Greeks or Hebrews, but can be found all over the ancient world. Philip M. Taylor contends that “Rome lacked the rich mythological sources available to Greek propagandists, so it created a mythology of its own” (35) This is, in fact, a sloppy simplification of a far more interesting process: Virgil’s Aeneid did not so much create a mythology as weave together several pre-existing stories of Rome’s founding – one by Aeneas and the Trojan survivors, another by the twins Romulus and Remus – in a way that supported the imperial government. Put another way, he appropriated a tradition, drawing upon its elements and then going beyond it to cover new ground.

Kautilya, an ancient Indian thinker, was a contemporary of Aristotle’s, though 3,000 miles away. He too understood the importance of appropriating tradition and discussed it in his Arthashastra, a handbook of statecraft. He explains that a king who has recently conquered new territory should “adopt the way of life, dress, language and customs of the people, show the same devotion to the gods of the territory [as to his own gods] and participate in the people’s festivals” (13.5.8; Rangarajan’s 741). Note that Kautilya is not interested in any particular quality of local customs, except that they are local and most likely beloved by the people. Though it is highly unlikely that Kautilya ever heard of Aristotle or his work, both demonstrated the same finesse for understanding an audience and the things that will favorably dispose it.

Modern-day practitioners of propaganda and political warfare would do well to learn from the ancients this lesson of appropriation. Americans, in particular, living in a relatively young nation that is more oriented toward the future than the past, tend to undertake their efforts without first asking themselves if there is already a pre-existing tradition whose terms and concepts they might adopt in order to lend their arguments new credibility. This, of course, requires the effort of first learning about foreign traditions and schools of thought, but the price is well worth it.

One of the uncomfortable qualities of Mason’s work is that it raises a difficult problem: what are we to make of an Old Testament that often bears a striking resemblance to propaganda, but which is claimed to in fact be the Word of God? An understanding of the appropriation of tradition helps us resolve some of this dilemma. A God Who acts in human history, Who stoops to make Himself known to mankind, can be expected to reveal Himself in a way that is conducive to the human mind. This is not so much God acting like a man, as it is God speaking to men; the Divine Rhetor understands His audience quite well and tailors His message accordingly. The point may be illustrated in regards to the earlier example of the lands promised to Abraham. God, in drawing a spiritual parallel between Abraham and Solomon, also draws a geographic one, not because the geography is or is not historically correct, but because the human mind appreciates and naturally grasps this sort of physical parallelism. Aristotle and Kautilya would understand the technique; there is no reason we should not.


This post first appeared on The Guild Review earlier this month.

An Ancient Approach to Political Warfare - Part I

In his work Propaganda and Subversion in the Old Testament, Rex Mason makes regular reference to ‘prophecies after the event,’ (vaticinia ex eventu). Mason’s reading of these accounts is rather straightforward: such prophecies were written after the events they predicted and function as legitimizing propaganda, either for a status quo power or for forces of change.* While this may be the case with some prophecies, particularly those whose level of detail cannot otherwise be explained (at least by human factors), there are a variety of other prophetic occasions which allow for a far more nuanced understanding of political warfare as waged in the Old Testament. The appropriation of a pre-existing tradition, rather than the creation of one out of whole cloth, not only provides valuable insights for modern-day political warfare practitioners, but also begins to resolve some of the tension between the human and divine elements of the Old Testament narrative.

In Genesis 15, Abraham is promised the “land from the river of Egypt as far as the great river Euphrates,” including the land of the “Kenites, Kenizzites, Kadmonites, Hittites, Perizzites, Rephaim, Amorites and Canaanites.” Mason points out that “these are the very borders ascribed to Solomon’s rule at the height of his fortunes: ‘Solomon exercised rule over all the kingdoms from the River [i.e. the Euphrates], to the land of the Philistines, that is, as far as the border of Egypt’” (33-4; internal quotation from 1 Kings 4:21). Mason comments that “the parallel between the ideal boundary claimed in royal propaganda for Solomon and the extent of land promised to Abraham in the ‘prophecy’ cannot be coincidental,” and concludes that “the stories of Abraham have an element of royal ideology in them” (34). However, an alternative reading of this parallelism is plausible.

It is quite possible that the story of the land promised to Abraham predated the Davidic monarchy; even if some editing has occurred between the Davidic-era version and the one that has come down to us, the essential details – including the borders of the lands promised to Abraham – may have already been set down. In such a case, Solomon would not have created the account of earlier events to match his kingdom, but shaped the perception of his kingdom to imply continuity with the past. Without realizing, Mason himself seems to have considered this possibility when he notes that the boundaries claimed by Solomon were “very largely fancy, for Solomon’s ‘empire’ (if such it may be called) certainly did not extend as far nor did he receive tribute from as many nations,” as named in the Abrahamic prophecy (34).**

A host of similar cases can be found in Mason’s work. He contends, for example, that the accounts of the Israelite tabernacle are “clearly influenced by the later Jerusalem temple,” in an attempt by priestly editors to write the central role of the temple into earlier history (57). While this interpretation is possible, Mason’s chronological gymnastics are hardly necessary to understand the parallelism between the tabernacle and the temple. Just as likely, priestly or royal personnel involved in the construction of the temple reached into Israelite history and consciously drew upon the example of the tabernacle, in order to imply continuity with the past, even if the temple in fact marked a shift in Israelite spirituality, as Mason argues.

Coming soon: Part II.


* I employ the term ‘propaganda’ throughout in the same way Mason does, to indicate ‘the presentation of material so as to express a particular belief or set of beliefs in such a way as to command assent to it from those to whom it is addressed’ (170). Thus, ‘propaganda’ is a neutral term referring to a method, not to the truth or falsehood, justice or injustice of the cause being promoted.

** To be fair, Mason does not explicitly advocate the position that these prophecies were completely fabricated after the fact; rather, he leaves the issue of their original material largely untouched, and appears not to have thought about this question in a systematic way. Thus, we find him at one point claiming that “the priests were creating a social order” (63) and then turning around and writing that the priests “skillfully preserved continuity with what had gone before” (64, emphasis added).

This post first appeared on The Guild Review earlier this month.

Dune: A Model of Political Warfare

If you're looking for some good fiction to read - and you should be, since varied reading greatly increases intellectual dexterity - might I recommend Frank Herbert's 1965 novel Dune? Though written more than 40 years ago, Dune is not only well written, winning the inaugural Nebula Award for best sci-fi novel, but also touches upon a number of perennial issues.

The story involves a far-flung galactic empire and the feuding dynastic houses within it. (Some have compared the work to Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.) A variety of the tools of statecraft are employed in this struggle: parliamentary politics, economics, intelligence, assassination, insurgency and open warfare. The interrelationship between geography, ecology, culture and political struggle is strongly emphasized. Likewise, the importance of religion and the limits of technology are seen. In the midst of all this political intrigue we see the statesman - the leader possessing wisdom, heroism and moral rectitude.

In a post-Cold War world of irregular warfare, nationalistic movements, transnational terrorists, environmental concerns and rising economic powers, Dune remains a prescient work for any student of political warfare.

Democrats Model Political Warfare - Or Lack Thereof

No doubt many publications have written about the comparative use of technology by Barak Obama and Hillary Clinton, though this article from the Financial Times caught my eye. While the story is about domestic politics, it provides lessons that are applicable to foreign policy as well.

One passage notes that,

Mr Obama... has run the model new technology campaign, in which staff and volunteers have the autonomy to make their own decisions.

This is in contrast to the Clinton campaign, which has a more top-down approach. Peter Leyden, director of the New Politics Institute explains:

Even businesses find it hard to change their organizational structure to fit the demands of new technology. But for political campaigns, which are classic command-and-control operations, it is particularly difficult. Mrs Clinton maintains a competent and solid website but Mr Obama has made it the central organizing tool of his campaign.

The article goes on to explain that,

It is hard to avoid the conclusion that Mrs Clinton has maintained a much less flexible campaign than her surging opponent.

In the world of national security, the question of centralized command-and-control versus decentralized networks is a hot topic. The reasons are fairly obvious: terrorists and other non-governmental actors are increasingly organizing themselves as networks, creating great flexibility and making it very difficult to thoroughly stomp them out. Should the military, CIA and State adopt network organizations themselves, to compensate? Plenty of ink has already been spilled on this question, but I would simply add that these are not uncharted waters for us; the Obama campaign understands how to run a flexible and delegated operation. If they know how, there's no good reason the government couldn't learn.

A second lesson to be learned by foreign policy types from this election relates to technology and the various media of communication. The FT explains that,

The Obama website offers almost instant video replays of his speeches, which are also packaged by Obama officials for YouTube. A few mouse clicks from each webcast provides a simple procedure to make online donations. Users can set up blogs, join the Obama Facebook group and even download ring tones featuring recordings of his speeches.

He's fighting his battle on every front, using every tool avaliable to him. While the various media in Iraq might be slightly different, the lesson is the same: don't be content with just one method of getting out your message; don't just accept what worked last year. If people can innovate and come up with creative ways to win elections at home, you'd think they could do likewise with the American message abroad.

The Boston Tea Party: A Model of Political Warfare (Part III)

(Click here for Part I)

Even a well-planned operation can backfire; the leaders of the Boston Tea Party were careful to avoid these. If someone within the political warfare campaign is diluting or contradicting the desired message, that person needs to be brought into line or otherwise neutralized before they do serious harm. In the case of the Tea Party, those who tried to save some of the tea for themselves were stripped naked, coated in mud and given a severe bruising.

Likewise, any political warfare should be carefully calibrated to send the desired message while avoiding collateral damage, be it metaphorical or – in the case of the Boston Tea Party – literal. Such unintended consequences can provide the opposition with ammunition. By making sure that nothing aside from the tea and tea chests were damaged, the Bostonians limited the possible negative side effects of their actions.

Poor operational security can also plague an otherwise well-planned campaign. Secrets – be they the identities of certain people, future plans or other matters – must be carefully maintained; leaks can make for terribly unpleasant surprises. One of the participants in the Boston Tea Party explained that afterwards they “quietly retired to our several places of residence, without having any conversation with each other, or taking any measures to discover who were our associates.”

Any time an action is nominally undertaken by a third party, the political warrior must be careful to make the denial of his involvement sufficiently plausible. While covering up proof of that involvement – the negative approach – is helpful, actively creating alibis – the positive approach – is likely to be even more successful. Samuel Adams and those involved in addressing the pre-Tea Party meeting made a point of remaining conspicuously behind in the Old South Meeting House. It was not a perfect alibi, but in the case of legal or other such action against them, it could have formed the first line of defense. Which may explain part of the reason that the governor never bothered to bring such charges.

Samuel Adams prepared an account of events the day after the Tea Party and Paul Revere (pictured above) immediately rode south with the news. A great speech or daring maneuver that gets no press coverage is of very limited value to the political warrior. Rather than simply hoping the media will pick up a story, or even encouraging it to do so, the story should be actively cultivated and disseminated. Controlling the message in this way ensures that the proper conclusions will be drawn.

The Boston Tea Party: A Model of Political Warfare (Part II)

(Click here for Part I)

A good political warfare campaign is not carried out in isolation, but in the context of a broader effort. An obvious element of such an effort is the utilization of political leverage in the traditional ways: passing resolutions, winning elections, etc. Even if victories in this area are not immediately attainable or are of little obvious effect, used in conjunction with other tools, political leveraging can highlight an issue and put pressure on certain parties. In the case of the Tea Party, the Boston Town Meeting and other political fora were utilized to demand the tea consignees' resignations.

This would be an example of propaganda of the deed. Other forms of propaganda are just as essential: a media blitz before the centerpiece of a campaign can focus attention and positively incline the public to receive the desired message. Sam Adams and his committee of correspondence were masters of cranking out letter, articles and speeches.

Finally, potential problems should be identified and neutralized before a major effort is undertaken. When Governor Hutchison of Massachusetts ordered the colonel of the cadet corps, a certain John Hancock, to prepare for action, Hancock refused. The British still had soldiers at their command, of course, but Hancock's action limited Hutchison's options and reduced the danger to the patriot cause.

Which leads us to one of the great lessons of political warfare: create uncomfortable dilemmas for the enemy. Like a good move in chess, this bit of political warfare leaves the opposition with options all of which play into the political warrior’s hands. The day before the tea was scheduled to be landed in Boston, the Dartmouth’s owner rode through the rain and cold to obtain permission from the governor not to land; Hutchison could either concede or look like a jerk. (In the event, he chose the latter, which did nothing to help his plunging popularity with the people of Boston.) The very Tea Party itself created a similar dilemma: the British could escalate or back down, but either way, they played into the patriots’ hands.

(Click here for Part III)

The Boston Tea Party: A Model of Political Warfare (Part I)

Any political warfare campaign – be it an attempt to remove a member of the local school board or an effort to foment rebellion in a foreign country – requires a variety of people, all of which the Boston Tea Party had, in its own way. Leaders from the political classes provide access to and familiarity with the traditional levers of political power; even if these cannot be fully utilized, political leadership may at least be able to neutralize them. In the case of the Tea Party, this leadership came from the North End Caucus, a sort of local political club.

Most acts of political warfare require that someone actually do something, be it knocking on doors and promoting a candidate or throwing tea off a ship; these sorts of things can require large numbers of people, often people with skills or experiences differing from those of the political leadership. Tying together the Boston longshoremen and the North End Caucus were middle class Bostonians who had social and familial ties to the world of the wharf. These men were networkers – people with a variety of connections who are able to speak to different audiences – and every political warfare campaign needs them to hold together various elements.

Whatever strata of society they come from or whatever role they play in the campaign, those with something to lose are obvious participants; they have a real stake in the outcome. For the Boston Tea Party it was the "smuggling fraternity" that had such stake and they proved willing cooperators with Samuel Adams (pictured above) and the other patriot leaders.

Finally, allies outside the immediate area of concern can be very helpful, providing moral or material support in times of difficulty; in addition, gathering allies before the opposition does prevents him from gaining any advantage by widening the conflict. Boston's Committee of Correspondence was instrumental in keeping the merchants of Philadelphia and New York in touch with and supportive of the patriot cause.

(Click here for Part II)

Stephen Colbert: Political Warrior?

The more I watch this man's presidential campaign, the more I'm intrigued. Many people would be tempted to dismiss Stephen Colbert, host of The Colbert Report, as a late-night comedian pulling a publicity stunt. And maybe he is. But is a presidential campaign really that different from a publicity stunt?



He makes innovative use of online and television media; he ridicules his rivals and the system in which he's running, saying the things the rest of us have long been thinking; and he's fun to watch! While the campaign as a whole can probably not be taken seriously, individual lessons in reaching and mobilizing a base abound. Political warriors of the world: take note.