Simple Things/ Lang Kenneth Haynes
POWER

Power does not yield to reason. It only yields to power. And this need not translate into confronting brute strength with brute
strength with predictable results. It does require the person who appears to have less power to: carefully assess where the power
resides; determine potential allies to enlist; find people who will not sell or give away your game plan; analyze ways to take existing
power and mold it to your advantage (kind of Aikido style); and measure how much you are willing to invest and the extent to which
you are able to absorb the consequences of possible miscalculations. It is a war.
I wrote these words several years ago and pretty much left it at that. I was toying with ideas related to power at the time. I
recently realized that I do more than play with ideas about power, it’s an integral part of my daily experience even though it (power) is
a master of disguises.
A very wise man named Sun Tzu essentially wrote a manual on how to conduct war. “The Art of War” is the name of the work that
resulted and it was created in the 6th century BC. Some might say that war is the ultimate attempted expression of power. Thoughts of
war and winning at any cost usually conjure up pictures of violence ranging from hand-to-hand combat to nuclear weapons the likes of
which distilled the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to shadows on walls with vaporized images that can still be seen today.
I’ve begun thinking about power in different ways and much of it has to do with accurate assessments of our opponents. And to
assess an opponent accurately, it is critical that you know the opponent. Not who you think he is or who you would like her to be, but
who they really are. There are essential questions that we must ask and have clear answers to if we hope to prevail in whatever the
battle happens to be at the time. When all the debris and excuses and rationalizations and justifications are scraped away, we find that
the war is designed to destroy some essential and potentially destructive element within ourselves, but that is another story. Most of
us are not ready to confront such a heady proposition. I know that I’m not. But in the meantime we feel compelled to fight something; to
exert our power over someone; to emerge, feeling like winners, from whatever the battle might be. But winning often doesn’t look like
what we’ve been taught winning looks like. Here is an example and in the process of telling this story, there is a chance that I may
come to understand aspects of the real enemy — the one that lurks beneath the apparent reality of things — the essential truth that I
have been avoiding by naming and battling other enemies. Yes. I may come to understand myself a little better.
A few months ago, I was working with a few middle-school-age students who seemed to have general contempt for school rules.
But it was clear that the opposition went way beyond the individual student, school, school rules and policies, parents, neighborhood
they happened to live in, the neighborhood or city they happened to have lived in before moving to the present neighborhood,
expectations shaped over generations, media definitions and representations of who they were and are and other things that
contribute to the rung we occupy on whatever ladder we happen to climb at any given time. One of the students seemed to glom onto
me. He worked hard at assignments through a few difficult classes. He stayed reasonably focused on tough tasks. He hurried to his
classes and encouraged his classmates to do the same. It was a regular metamorphosis that I don’t think had much to do with me.
After all, I was just there. I gave up the notion that I could make things right for the entire universe a long time ago. He complied with
the rules that seemed fair, reasonable and evenly applied. Just like any other teenager on his best behavior. But there was a point of
no return for this young man. And that point came when he was challenged by another student or adult. That point came when the
gauntlet was thrown down. That point came when war was silently declared.
If someone called him “outside of his name” or said or did anything that he considered disrespectful (making fun of his clothes,
the way he walked or talked, or said something derogatory about his mother) then the only thing to do was to exert his power over the
offender. And this exertion necessarily took the form of words that escalated in volume and potential hurtfulness with physical
violence as the logical outcome. So in this and innumerable similar situations, ranging from students to nations, physical dominance
or destruction is the only way to win — the only way to out-power one’s opponent.
Despite my almost-pleading for the young person to let the challenge go, the game was in motion. Despite my attempts to explain
that the young person would come out on the short end of the conflict because he was behaving in a way that the opponent had
calculated a long time ago, the situation accelerated towards the almost-forgone violent conclusion. In my humble opinion, winning
and exerting power in this situation would have been achieved by simply walking away or otherwise refusing to play the game.
Baiting a person does not work if there is no one to bait. It is impossible to fuel the fire of anger if there is no fire to fuel. How
wonderful it would be for the young man to have hundreds of options (like those expressed in Sun Tzu quotations) in his bag of tricks.
The options could include the wisdom built into words like:
• Build your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across
• He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will be victorious, or
• Thus, what is of supreme importance in war is to attack the enemy’s strategy
There is a huge difference between attacking an enemy and attacking an enemy’s strategy. One leads to the principal’s office,
school expulsion, jail, prison and fueling the fire of rage way past the point where the original offense is remembered. The other path
can encourage the traveler to try other positive options in the bag of tricks. Things that, at least, have the potential to work.