THE TRADITION OF THE SOLDIER-SCHOLAR
Recently (as of this writing) during a summit with the president of the United States, the president of China referenced the "Thucydides Trap," warning that Beijing and Washington could enter an extremely dangerous conflict.
Thucydides was a Greek historian and general in the fifth century BCE. The Trap attached to his name is not a military maneuver but the interplay of politics, economics, and psychology that can draw states into armed conflict.
We are blessed in this age to be the recipients of many thousands of years of lessons in governance, economics, politics, personal achievement, as well as warfare. In many cases, this wisdom was gained during wars and set down by warriors.
Perhaps the most notable of these is the emperor Marcus Aurelius, who defended Rome’s borders when they were the most extensive in the world. But he is best remembered for his work in philosophy. His Meditations are not on the conduct of war, but on Stoicism and managing the challenges of ordinary life.
The second most famous philosopher from ancient China after Confucius (from a Western perspective) is general Sun Tzu. His Art of War is studied today as both a military text and a guide to business management.
Alexander The Great — synonymous with military achievement — is reported to have been tutored by Aristotle who was, in turn, a student of Plato, two icons of Western philosophy. No record exists of why Alexander organized his empire such that its Hellenistic influence endures to this day. But it may be no coincidence that Aristotle’s and Plato’s work focused on government and human nature.
These models—and the observations by countless other officers trained to direct the behavior of organizations under stress—has inspired great nations to establish some of their most prestigious academies of learning around their military leadership.
The goal is only partly to teach the military how to fight. These schools also teach why nations and individual soldiers fight, the political and economic dimensions of conflict, the practical considerations of large-scale organized human undertakings, and — most importantly — how to mitigate the need to fight.
The graduates of these academies come to see life and the world across these many dimensions. And that worldview serves them throughout their careers, wherever their careers take them.
Some readers of the St. John & series may occasionally feel the race to the next pages of blood and bullets are slowed by St. John Kraft’s academic asides and philosophical reflections. But (if you’ve read his backstory, you know) St. John is a West Point graduate. Between that and his experience as a CIA field operative, St. John almost instinctively evaluates situations across multiple dimensions to identify potential dangers as well as potential opportunities.
Hopefully, his reflections help the story. They are certainly a feature of the literary medium that filmed entertainment can’t match. But they also might provide more lasting nourishment. Just like the writings of real-life soldier scholars, the memoirs of St. John Kraft seek to preserve his life lessons, not just the sensations. In this, St. John tries to emua tradition as old as civilization.