Jim Gimian's Articles on Lions Roar

We may not be generals, presidents or CEO’s, but we all have goals and conflict is an inescapable part of our lives. The Art of War, says James Gimian, teaches us the profound art of “taking whole,” the victory that everyone shares in. It's a mystery how some conflicts in the world seem to get resolved without a lot of bloodshed, or at least without a lot of yelling and screaming. The celebratory fall of the Berlin Wall-fabulous! The peaceful transition from an authoritarian apartheid regime to a racially egalitarian democracy in South Africa-amazing! My daughter picking the expensive clothes I bought her off the floor of her room and hanging them up neatly-I never saw that coming. A situation that seems stuck, tense, and impossible one day now seems workable, even creative. How did that happen? It just doesn't make any sense. Are these sudden, almost mysterious, shifts in direction brought about by an accident, serendipity, or unseen intervention? No, according to the wisdom text now commonly known as The Art of War, it's a kind of ordinary magic, which comes from being connected to and working with reality at a deeper, more intuitive level. Attributed to a Chinese general named Sun Tzu who lived 2,500 years ago, the text tells us that this kind of ordinary magic arises when we respond to conflict in a more profound and subtle manner, resisting heavy-handed attempts to wrestle the world into submission. Beyond being simply a hit-or-miss occurrence, it can be cultivated as a way of being and acting in the world. The text calls it shih (pronounced "shir," almost with no vowel sound). In order to understand shih, we must first understand the way the Sun Tzu text views the world, for it is from the depths of the text's view of the world that this skillful action arises. The Sun Tzu sees the world as a whole-interdependent, interconnected, constantly in flux. The world is less about specific locations and solid things than it is about potentialities, processes, and relationships. There are "things" and causal chains that appear to us as linear, but each is part of a whole system and each whole system is interrelated and interactive. As the Sun Tzu sees it, we are part of a web of interconnectedness, fluid and rapidly changing. The frame of reference we take for granted today may well evaporate by next week, and one little thing way over there can affect one little thing way over here. Sound familiar? That's probably because this view of the world from 500 BCE China is not unlike the view of our world emerging today, whether on the frontiers of theoretical physics or in the way we lead our everyday life. From Google searches and personal networks to social and economic theories of whole systems to quantum mechanics and chaos theory, viewing the world as an interconnected whole is becoming commonplace. Think synchronicity, the tipping point, and the flat world. Or how cellphone photos of a disaster halfway across the globe quicken our heartbeats as they bring the experience of human suffering to us seconds after it occurs. In this interconnected and everchanging world, the challenging experience we call conflict arises as a matter of course. Conflict is not regarded as an aberration that occurs because people have acted badly. It arises as an inevitable outgrowth of the differing conditions, views, and aspirations of people who find themselves nevertheless connected to each other. To the extent that there is any duality whatsoever-and the relative world is nothing but a web of dualities-one thing will rub against another. Having taken conflict as a naturally occurring feature of life, the text offers a way to work with it directly and skillfully. The Sun Tzu text came into being to address the conflict that generals faced during the Warring States period in China's history, when they battled to take control of critical territory in order to ward off threats to their state's existence. While most of us are not vying for control of cities and farms, we may have a keen interest in Sun Tzu's message because, as "generals" trying to maintain command of our own worlds, we routinely attempt to carry out objectives, from simple inspirations to grand plans. And in so doing, we are met with indifference, resistance, or open hostility. Conflict is a tough part of life, and we long for ways of working with it that are more creative and profound than our habitual extremes of avoidance or aggression. The Sun Tzu's view of how to work with conflict conveys its most profound teaching. The core wisdom of the text is that it is possible to accomplish your objective without resorting to aggression, or as the text famously states: "to subdue the other's military without battle." The text calls this "taking whole." Once you see the world as whole, then taking whole becomes the consummate skill in working with the phenomenal world. Taking whole means keeping things intact, as much as possible, rather than destroying them, and it applies to the aspirations of the "enemy" as much as to their physical well-being. Incorporating and including the enemy leaves something to build upon. The Chinese general realized that the farmers who were his enemy today could be producing food for his people tomorrow, and so destroying them in the battle for more territory was only depriving himself of resources for his future, larger kingdom. But how does the general take whole in the midst of the chaos and confusion of the battlefield? How do we take whole, in the midst of our tough battles at corporate headquarters, in our social action project, or at our children's school? Here the Sun Tzu is again resoundingly clear: skillful action begins with knowledge. In the battlefield this obviously means knowing all the details that affect critical decisions: the weather, what my soldiers have had to eat, how far enemy troops marched last night. But the text expands from this to a more profound understanding of knowledge: Know the other and know oneself Then victory is not in danger. Know earth and know heaven, Then victory can be complete." —Chapter 10 While knowledge includes the simple accumulation of information, it goes beyond that and becomes a more active openness, a knowing, an unbiased perception of all the elements of a situation and the patterns they form. When the general acts with a fixed view, every bit of new information is interpreted in relation to that view, and emerging possibilities are missed. But knowing in the Sun Tzu is relating directly to the way things are-connecting to the interrelated, changing world rather than clinging to one's smaller, fixed view. It lays the ground for taking whole and makes it possible to attain a larger-scale victory, one that goes beyond applying old solutions to new, emerging circumstances. Thus the text tells us: "Victory can be known; it cannot be made." Whatever view he may have held about his world, the sage commander of the Warring States period in China still needed to take action, and therefore, he faced the same challenge we do today: how do we successfully work with the chaos and conflict that arises as we seek to attain our objective, to bring about victory in our particular battleground? One can do so, the Sun Tzu tells us, through skillful mastery of shih, the primary way of working with the phenomenal world. In general, shih refers to action that rearranges the environment to our advantage, but in a different way than we're used to. Though the world is a whole system, it is possible to carve off discrete areas and take action. Within the constant change, there are tendencies, norms that the text calls tao. These can be simple things, such as the fact that water seeks the low ground, soldiers get tired at the end of the day, and round rocks roll downhill. These conditions combine to make up clusters of events, patterns that we can recognize and work with. In the interconnected web, the convergence of small movements changes the relationships between all the elements. Imagine the crossing wave patterns made by two motorboats on a small mountain lake, and the ripple effect of bobbing boats and docks around the lake's perimeter. Smaller movements can come about either naturally or from alterations we make in the details of the situation. Using shih is working directly with the world on this level. Specifically, the text tells us that shih is about power and strategic advantage joined with the critical moment of application, or release-called the "node." (Node refers to the very small connection that separates segments of bamboo, essentially a moment of transition from one phase to the next.) Chapter five of the Sun Tzu introduces us to shih in three ways: first as power-in-motion, where water, otherwise soft and harmless, can be amassed into a rushing force capable of tossing huge rocks about; next as shape, where shih is described as steep, evoking the power of troops taking the higher ground in a mountain ravine; and finally as accumulation, like the drawing back of a crossbow and the power released at the pulling of the trigger (the node). The text summarizes all these three in the last lines of the chapter: One who uses shih sets people to battle as if rolling trees and rocks. As for the nature of trees and rocks— When still, they are at rest. When agitated, they move. When square, they stop. When round, they go. Thus the shih of one skilled at setting people to battle is like rolling round rocks from a mountain one thousand jen high. —Chapter 5 It is important to note here that shih does not rely on changing the nature of things in the world, but on knowing how things are and how they work together, and on the right timing. For example, one habitual response to interpersonal conflict is to demand that the other party change their behavior in order to resolve the situation in our favor. By contrast, relying on shih involves awaiting the right moment to act, then nudging a "round rock" to...

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