The 33 Strategies of War (57 page)

The Turks inevitably moved to suppress the Greek rebellion, and as their atrocities against the Greeks mounted, it seemed almost certain that the czar would intervene. But in February 1822, as the revolution was reaching a boiling point, the czar made what in d'Istria's eyes was a fatal mistake: he agreed to send an envoy to Vienna to discuss the crisis with Metternich. The prince loved to lure negotiators to Vienna, where he would charm them to death. D'Istria felt the situation slipping out of his hands. Now he had just one option: to choose the envoy who would go to Vienna and brief him in detail.

D'Istria's choice was a man called Taticheff, who had been Russia's ambassador to Spain. Taticheff was a shrewd, experienced negotiator. Called in for a meeting shortly before he was to leave, he listened carefully as d'Istria laid out the dangers: Metternich would try to charm and seduce Taticheff; to prevent the czar from intervening, he would offer to negotiate a settlement between the Russians and Turks; and, of course, he would call for a European conference to discuss the issue. This last was Metternich's favorite ploy: he was always able to dominate these conferences and somehow get what he wanted. Taticheff was not to fall under his spell. He was to give Metternich a note from d'Istria arguing that Russia had a right to come to the aid of fellow Christians suffering at the hands of the Turks. And on no account was he to agree to Russia's participation in a conference.

On the eve of his departure for Vienna, Taticheff was unexpectedly called in for a meeting with the czar himself. Alexander was nervous and conflicted. Unaware of d'Istria's instructions, he told Taticheff to tell Metternich that he wanted both to act in accordance with the alliance and to meet his moral obligation in Greece. Taticheff decided he would have to delay giving this message as long as he could--it would make his work far too confusing.

In his first meeting with Metternich in Vienna, Taticheff took measure of the Austrian minister. He saw him as rather vain, apparently more interested in fancy-dress balls and young girls than in Greece. Metternich seemed detached and somewhat ill-informed; the little he said about the situation in Greece betrayed confusion. Taticheff read d'Istria's note to him, and, as if without thinking, Metternich asked if these were the czar's instructions as well. Put on the spot, Taticheff could not lie. His hope now was that the czar's rather contradictory instructions would further confuse the prince, letting Taticheff stay one step ahead.

In the days to come, Taticheff had a splendid time in the delightful city of Vienna. Then he had another meeting with Metternich, who asked him if they could begin negotiations based on the instructions of the czar. Before Taticheff could think, Metternich next asked what Russia's demands might be in this situation. That seemed fair, and Taticheff replied that the Russians wanted to make Greece a protectorate state, to get the alliance's approval for Russian intervention in Greece, on and on. Metternich turned down every proposal, saying his government would never agree to such things, so Taticheff asked him to suggest alternate ideas. Instead Metternich launched into an abstract discussion of revolution, of the importance of the Holy Alliance, and other irrelevancies. Taticheff left confused and rather annoyed. He had wanted to stake out a position, but these discussions were informal and shapeless; feeling lost, he had been unable to steer them in the direction he wanted.

A few days later, Metternich called Taticheff in again. He looked uncomfortable, even pained: the Turks, he said, had just sent him a note claiming that the Russians were behind the trouble in Greece and asking him to convey to the czar their determination to fight to the death to hold on to what was theirs. In solemn tones suggesting that he was angry at the Turks' lack of diplomacy, Metternich said he thought it beneath his country's dignity to pass this disgraceful message to the czar. He added that the Austrians considered Russia their staunchest ally and would support Russia's conditions for resolving the crisis. Finally, if the Turks refused to concede, Austria would break off relations with them.

Taticheff was quite moved by this sudden emotional display of solidarity. Perhaps the Russians had misread the prince--perhaps he was really on their side. Fearing that d'Istria would misunderstand, Taticheff reported this meeting to the czar alone. A few days later, Alexander responded that from now on, Taticheff was to report only to him; d'Istria was to be excluded from the negotiations.

The pace of the meetings with Metternich picked up. Somehow the two men discussed only diplomatic solutions to the crisis; Russia's right to intervene in Greece militarily was no longer mentioned. Finally, Metternich invited the czar to attend a conference on the question in Verona, Italy, a few months later. Here Russia would lead the debate on how best to settle the matter; it would be at the center of attention, with the czar rightly celebrated as Europe's savior in the crusade against revolution. The czar happily agreed to attend.

Back in St. Petersburg, d'Istria fumed and ranted to anyone who would listen, but shortly after Taticheff got home, the Russian foreign minister was kicked out of office for good. And at the later conference in Verona, just as he had predicted, the Greek crisis was resolved in precisely the way that best served Austria's interests. The czar was the star of the show, but apparently he did not care or notice that he had signed a document essentially precluding Russia from intervening unilaterally in the Balkans, thereby conceding a right insisted upon by every Russian leader since Peter the Great. Metternich had won the war with d'Istria more completely than the former minister had ever imagined possible.

Interpretation

Metternich's goal was always a settlement that would best serve Austria's long-term interests. Those interests, he decided, involved not just preventing Russian intervention in Greece but maneuvering the czar into permanently relinquishing the right to send troops into the Balkans, an enduring source of instability in Europe. So Metternich looked at the relative forces on both sides. What leverage did he have over the Russians? Very little; in fact, he had the weaker hand. But Metternich possessed a trump card: his years-long study of the czar's rather strange personality. Alexander was a highly emotional man who would act only in a state of exaltation; he had to turn everything into a crusade. So, right at the beginning of the crisis, Metternich planted the seed that the real crusade here was one not of Christians against Turks but of monarchies against revolution.

Metternich also understood that his main enemy was d'Istria and that he would have to drive a wedge between d'Istria and the czar. So he lured an envoy to Vienna. In one-on-one negotiations, Metternich was a chess player on the grand-master level. With Taticheff as with so many others, he first lowered his opponent's suspicions by playing the foppish, even dim-witted aristocrat. Next he drew out the negotiations, miring them in abstract, legalistic discussions. That made him seem even more stupid, further misleading Taticheff but also confusing and irritating him. A confused and riled negotiator is prone to make mistakes--such as reveal too much about what he is after, always a fatal error. A confused negotiator is also more easily seduced by emotional demonstrations. In this case Metternich used the note from the Turks to stage a little drama in which he appeared to reveal a sudden change in his sympathies. That put Taticheff--and through him the czar--completely under his spell.

From then on, it was child's play to reframe the discussion to suit Metternich's purpose. The offer to stage a conference at which the czar would shine was dazzling and alluring, and it also seemed to offer Russia the chance of greater influence in European affairs (one of Alexander's deepest desires). In fact the result was the opposite: Alexander ended up signing a document that cut Russia out of the Balkans--Metternich's goal all along. Knowing how easily people are seduced by appearances, the Austrian minister gave the czar the appearance of power (being the center of attention at the conference), while he himself retained its substance (having the signed document). It is what the Chinese call giving someone a gaudy piece of painted tile in exchange for jade.

As Metternich so often demonstrated, success in negotiation depends on the level of preparation. If you enter with vague notions as to what you want, you will find yourself shifting from position to position depending on what the other side brings to the table. You may drift to a position that seems appropriate but does not serve your interests in the end. Unless you carefully analyze what leverage you have, your maneuvers are likely to be counterproductive.

Before anything else you must anchor yourself by determining with utmost clarity your long-term goals and the leverage you have for reaching them. That clarity will keep you patient and calm. It will also let you toss people meaningless concessions that seem generous but actually come cheap, for they do not hurt your real goals. Before the negotiations begin, study your opponents. Uncovering their weaknesses and unfulfilled desires will give you a different kind of leverage: the ability to confuse them, make them emotional, seduce them with pieces of tile. If possible, play a bit of the fool: the less people understand you and where you are headed, the more room you have to maneuver them into corners.

Everyone wants something without having any idea how to obtain it, and the really intriguing aspect of the situation is that nobody quite knows how to achieve what he desires. But because I know what I want and what the others
are capable of
I am completely prepared.

--Prince Klemens von Metternich (1773-1859)

KEYS TO WARFARE

Conflict and confrontation are generally unpleasant affairs that churn up unpleasant emotions. Out of a desire to avoid such unpleasantness, people will often try to be nice and conciliatory to those around them, in the belief that that will elicit the same response in return. But so often experience proves this logic to be wrong: over time, the people you treat nicely will take you for granted. They will see you as weak and exploitable. Being generous does not elicit gratitude but creates either a spoiled child or someone who resents behavior perceived as charity.

In gratitude for his acquittal, Orestes dedicated an altar to Warlike Athene; but the Erinnyes threatened, if the judgement were not reversed, to let fall a drop of their own hearts' blood which would bring barrenness upon the soil, blight the crops, and destroy all the offspring of Athens. Athene nevertheless soothed their anger by flattery: acknowledging them to be far wiser than herself, she suggested that they should take up residence in a grotto at Athens, where they would gather such throngs of worshippers as they could never hope to find elsewhere. Hearth-altars proper to Underworld deities should be theirs, as well as sober sacrifices, torchlight libations, first-fruits offered after the consummation of marriage or the birth of children, and even seats in the Erechtheum. If they accepted this invitation she would decree that no house where worship was withheld from them might prosper; but they, in return, must undertake to invoke fair winds for her ships, fertility for her land, and fruitful marriages for her people--also rooting out the impious, so that she might see fit to grant Athens victory in war. The Erinnyes, after a short deliberation, graciously agreed to these proposals.

T
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M
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, 1955

Those who believe against the evidence that niceness breeds niceness in return are doomed to failure in any kind of negotiation, let alone in the game of life. People respond in a nice and conciliatory way only when it is in their interest and when they have to do so. Your goal is to create that imperative by making it painful for them to fight. If you ease up the pressure out of a desire to be conciliatory and gain their trust, you only give them an opening to procrastinate, deceive, and take advantage of your niceness. That is human nature. Over the centuries those who have fought wars have learned this lesson the hard way.

When nations have violated this principle, the results are often tragic. In June 1951, for example, the U.S. military halted its extremely effective offensive against the Chinese People's Liberation Army in Korea because the Chinese and the North Koreans had signaled they were ready to negotiate. Instead they drew out the talks as long as they could while they recovered their forces and strengthened their defenses. When the negotiation failed and the war was resumed, the American forces found that their battlefield advantage was lost. This pattern was repeated in the Vietnam War and to some extent in the Gulf War of 1991 as well. The Americans acted partly out of a desire to reduce casualties, partly to be seen as trying to bring these wars to an end as soon as possible, to appear conciliatory. What they did not realize was that the enemy's incentive to negotiate in good faith was lost in the process. In this case, trying to be conciliatory and save lives led to much longer wars, more bloodshed, real tragedy. Had the United States continued to advance in Korea in 1951, it could have compelled the Koreans and Chinese to negotiate on its own terms; had it continued its bombing campaigns in Vietnam, it could have forced the North Vietnamese to negotiate instead of procrastinate; had it continued its march all the way to Baghdad in 1991, it could have forced Saddam Hussein out of office as a condition of peace, preventing a future war and saving countless lives.

The lesson is simple: by continuing to advance, by keeping up unrelenting pressure, you force your enemies to respond and ultimately to negotiate. If you advance a little further every day, attempts to delay negotiation only make their position weaker. You are demonstrating your resolve and determination, not through symbolic gestures but by administering real pain. You do not continue to advance in order to grab land or possessions but to put yourself in the strongest possible position and win the war. Once you have forced them to settle, you have room to make concessions and give back some of what you've taken. In the process you might even seem nice and conciliatory.