Beneath the veil of romantic heroism that drapes across “300,” the quasi-historical action-adventure film that has laid siege to America’s popular imagination, lay a body of interesting and highly provocative negotiating conundrums.
On the macro level, I think the foremost question is whether it is possible to negotiate with a fundamentally irrational party. On the micro level, the questions parse out into three separate but interrelated theoretical puzzles: i) Can and should earnest, substantive negotiations occur in instances of gross power inequalities? ii) Are more powerful parties be better served by making demands of their opponents, or extending offers/requests? iii) Is it better for punitive consequences to be scaled-up or maximized from the outset?
The setup runs something like this:
King Leonidas, ruler of Sparta, a small but fierce Greek city-state renowned for its prowess in war, is approached by a team of emissaries from the court of King Xerxes, ruler of Persia, the world’s dominant imperial empire, seeking a token gesture — “earth and water” — of alms, recognition and submission to the authority of the Persian throne.
Leonidas, disinclined to submit, emboldened by Athens’ resistance to the Persian King, and enraged by the emissaries’ patronizing tone in the face of Spartan resolve, not only refuses to accede to Xerxes’s wishes, but proceeds to kill the entire team of messengers — an act that desecrates the customs of the Age and guarantees that Persia will respond with war.
Leonidas pulls together an elite team of 300 Spartan soldiers and engages the Persian army at Thermopylae (the hot gates): a narrow mountain pass that will negate the Persians’ numerical advantage, and magnify the superior tactical strengths of the outnumbered Spartans.
The Spartans’ defense is so fantastic, the number of Persian soldiers they kill is so great, that Xerxes sends to additional hosts of emissaries to the Spartan encampment in the hopes of brokering a cease-fire. The Spartans kill the first messenger (incurring more spirited offensives from the Persians, which the Spartan soldiers thwart); and the second messenger, King Xerxes himself, is confronted not only by King Leonidas’s refusal to submit, but also his scorn (forcing Xerxes to unleash his elite soldiers, which the Spartans defeat, albeit with greater difficulty).
In the end, Xerxes returns and through yet another emissary, offers Sparta and King Leonidas dominion over the entire Western world, if they would only bow before his throne. The Spartans refuse and kill the emissary. Xerxes, after being wounded by a spear thrown in defiant fury by Leonidas, gives the command to launch an all-out attack and the Spartans are eradicated.
The Pyrrhic exploits of the Spartans so inspire the city-states of Greece that they collectively take up arms against Persia and, in time, ultimately defeat Xerxes’s army.
Leonidas’s irrational fealty to the spirit of Sparta leads him to war against Persia — a war he knows that he cannot win — and to risk the destruction of Spartan civilization. In the Spartan mind — a mind conditioned from birth to glorify combat and death in battle — the BATNA (Best Alternative To a Negotiated Agreement), as well as the desired end, is war.
Xerxes’s power and the size of his army effectually precluded any (rational) person or state from resisting the wishes of the Persian Empire. Xerxes’s entreaties were merely token gestures of his beneficence; he knew that all feared his wrath, but wanted all to recognize his mercy. For the Persians, the BATNA is conquest; the target, however, is dominion (which cannot be obtained without war).
i) Can a negotiation truly occur between these two parties?
I think not. Xerxes wrongly assumed that Sparta would rationally prefer assent and life, to dissent, war and certain destruction; his miscalculation created an opportunity for Sparta to openly defy his power (making it, by definition, less than irresistible), and forced him into war. Conversely, Xerxes’s unmatched military strength made virtually every negotiation he entered into one of pure ceremony. Conquest was always a realistic option for him — a costly option, perhaps, but one that was eminently achievable. And if it’s true that parties negotiate to avert or avoid violent conflict (or some analogy thereof), then it’s also the case that Xerxes can’t earnestly engage in negotiation — by virtue of his power and dominance, he can only indulge in polite coercion.
ii) Are more powerful parties better served by making demands vs. offers or requests?
Clearly, Xerxes would have been better served by issuing Sparta an ultimatum: submit or suffer the consequences. For in any scenario involving submission, Spartans would be certain to choose war. Asking Leonidas for a token offering flamed the fire of Spartan pride and honor, and ultimately aroused their warrior fury. Demanding submission would have done the same, to be sure, but that option would not have suggested an exploitable lack of resolve on Xerxes’s part.
iii) Is it better for punitive consequences to be scaled or maximized at the outset?
Launching into all-out war guaranteed that Xerxes would incur the maximum cost in terms of money and casualties, but also opens the possibility of his army losing some measure of prestige. Additionally, if one responds “maximally” and the adversary remains standing, subsequent threats are rendered hollow. Xerxes might have been better served to engage in a “war” of attrition: embargoes, “divide and conquer” tactics among the Greek states, diplomatic pressures and subterfuge. This approach may have allowed Xerxes the option to launch an attack after the morale, resolve and reputation of Sparta had been diminished. Instead, Xerxes declares war from the outset — in the aftermath, he enables the creation of 300 martyrs and an enduring mythology that inspires a nation to do the impossible.
This op-ed was originally published in a spring 2007 edition of “The Opportunity” — the newspaper of the NYU Stern School of Business.
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