The Decisive Victory Delusion: Why the Best Negotiators Think Like Generals, Not Gladiators

The room had gone completely silent. Across the table, John - let us call him that - was building to his crescendo. He had brought eight Ivy League colleagues to our contract negotiation, filling every chair on his side while we two Europeans sat rather outnumbered. Over a long, laboured period, he had been ratcheting up the pressure: leaning forward, voice rising, eyes narrowing, nostrils actually flaring. His deadline was non-negotiable. He held all the cards. His terms were final. This was my moment to decide.

It was pure theater. And it was working - on him.

What John had not calculated was that everything he said assumed I would take him seriously. That I would accept his artificial timeline. That I would be intimidated by his red-meat American aggression rather than bemused by it. When he finished his ultimatum, I let the silence stretch - each second building tension whilst steadily draining his control. Finally, I responded in my most deliberately ironic, elongated English drawl: "Oh John, you know I do enjoy our chats."

The room burst into laughter. John's face went scarlet. His decisive strike had become his humiliation.

The Seductive Fantasy

This scene plays out in boardrooms and law firms across the world, because we are all susceptible to what I think of as ‘decisive victory thinking’. We see it everywhere in popular culture - Harvey Specter's signature courtroom reveals in Suits, Colonel Jessep's explosive "You can't handle the truth!" moment in A Few Good Men, Logan Roy's calculated boardroom strikes in Succession. These moments make for compelling television because they satisfy something deep in our psychology: the fantasy that one perfect blow can achieve total victory.

The problem is that when this thinking seeps into actual strategy, it does real damage.

The Poisoned Pill of History

I was reminded of this recently whilst listening to a fascinating episode of David Runciman's Past Present Future podcast called "The History of Bad Ideas: The Decisive Battle," where Runciman and historian Dan Snow explored the concept of Vernichtungsschlacht - the German military doctrine of the swift, annihilating battle. As Snow explained: "The poisoned pill of the nineteenth century is that the Prussians pulled it off... from that moment on, from 1870 to 1945, this kind of German way of making war is to seek Vernichtungsschlacht... and as a result millions and millions of people die."

Even history's supposedly decisive victories - Cannae, Waterloo, Trafalgar - were not the neat triumphs we imagine. Yet as Runciman observed, there remains "the lunar pull of these dramatic events" and our dangerous attraction to what Snow called the "glamourisation of this idea - that you can hit them so hard, right on day one, that you might just win."

Why We Fall for It

The reason this doctrine persists, despite its terrible track record, reveals something important about human psychology. We are wired for zero-sum thinking, for inter-tribal competition, for the dopamine hit of decisive victory. These instincts once served us well when survival depended on clearly defeating rival tribal groups. But in modern negotiations - whether over contracts, acquisitions, or corporate restructurings - this ancient wiring often sabotages us.

Campaigns, Not Duels

Because legal and commercial negotiations are not duels. They are campaigns.

A military general understands this instinctively. She does not expect one battle to end a war, nor does she stake everything on a single engagement. Instead, she thinks systematically: managing multiple fronts, ensuring supply lines are secure, maintaining command and control among her own forces, understanding the enemy's psychology and pressure points, and - most crucially - beginning with a realistic end state in mind.

This is not merely a question of tone or tactics. It directly affects outcomes.

The negotiator who chases the decisive blow is more likely to burn goodwill, entrench opposition, or miss the quieter currents shaping the room. I have seen brilliant lawyers isolate themselves with theatrical strikes that revealed more weakness than strength. I have watched executives mistake volume for authority, only to find they had hardened positions that might otherwise have moved.

The general, by contrast, works steadily towards an achievable outcome. There are skirmishes and set pieces, certainly, but they are chosen carefully. Not every clause must be perfect. Not every point is worth a fight. Often the greater skill lies in recognising which battles to avoid entirely.

When to Show Your Teeth

This does not mean avoiding conflict when necessary. Sometimes you do need to show your teeth - when you are being genuinely bullied, when a core principle is at stake, when strategic ambiguity has run its course. But these moments work precisely because they are rare and calculated, not because they represent your default approach.

The Wisdom of Compromise

Most importantly, there is no shame in compromise. The majority of deals - like the majority of wars - end in something less than total victory: an agreement neither side loves, but which allows both to move forward. It often requires considerable maturity to accept this reality and sign.

The irony is that when both sides recognise this from the start, negotiations typically flow faster and more smoothly. This approach also helps identify early when a deal simply cannot be done - better that both sides walk away quickly than become trapped in a protracted battle that benefits no one. Internal stakeholders understand there will be no flag-waving event, no march past the vanquished - just a sound, workable deal that serves everyone's interests adequately.

This shift in thinking could prevent many negotiations from devolving into grinding stalemates - the First World War trenches of attritional deal-making where everyone loses.

The next time you sit down for a major negotiation, ask yourself: are we thinking like generals or like gladiators? Are we here to stage a dramatic victory, or to conduct a disciplined campaign that delivers a peace we can live with?

If you find yourself betting everything on the decisive blow, you may already be losing - not just the negotiation, but the war against your own psychology.