Greene argues that open ambition and attempts at power grabs often invite resistance, envy, and the development of countervailing coalitions, making such actions risky. Instead, he advocates for a fait accompli strategy, whereby power is accumulated gradually through small, seemingly insignificant actions that one’s opponents perceive as too bothersome or too small to challenge. Greene believes that by exploiting humanity’s conservatism, lack of attention span, and unwillingness to challenge the status quo, it is possible for power to be consolidated gradually until it becomes permanent.

To support this concept, Greene uses the example of Charles de Gaulle’s rise to power during World War II. Initially, de Gaulle was an unknown exile with no formal authority. Instead of loudly proclaiming his ambitions, he proceeded with a series of small, defensible actions, including arranging for broadcasts on the BBC, establishing a military presence, gaining control of African territories, and infiltrating the French Resistance. Each action appeared defensible, often as a matter of necessity, but collectively, they established a political position that was unbeatable. Greene extends this argument with further examples, such as the incremental gains of Frederick the Great, the King of Prussia during the 18th century, or the slow acquisition of power by film director Alfred Hitchcock, demonstrating the way time can be utilized in service of the actor rather than against them.

The chapter describes a setting consistent with status competition, bureaucratic sluggishness, and a cautious approach to conflict reminiscent of both imperial politics and modern-day organizations. As such, the chapter assumes a set of actors who are calculative, patient, and willing to cloak their ambition, which places a strong emphasis on elite actors and long-term planning. While Greene’s approach overlooks the idea of ethical transparency, the chapter remains in modern-day settings where power is often transferred through procedural, positional, and incremental forms rather than direct confrontation. By portraying ambition as something that advances stealthily rather than loudly, Greene presents gradualism as a highly disciplined form of converting small advantages into lasting power.

Greene describes communication as a kind of warfare, in which the objective is not to merely express but to penetrate; to break through the psychological defenses of an unwilling audience and change their internal experience. He argues that direct persuasion, moralizing, or overly involved explanation tends to defeat itself, calling attention to the effort of persuasion and thereby provoking defensiveness in the audience. By contrast, successful persuasion works indirectly, blending ideas into experience, emotion, and sensory clues so that the audience arrives at conclusions they think they have arrived at on their own.

To illustrate this, Greene cites a wide variety of historical and cultural examples. He cites the example of Alfred Hitchcock, a film director whose style of direction eschewed verbal instruction in favor of carefully crafted experiences that forced actors to experience the emotional state that his films demanded of them. For instance, he would handcuff actors together or heighten insecurity on set to shape their inner experiences instead of giving direct instructions. Greene extends this idea to Machiavelli, arguing that Machiavelli’s famous 1532 book The Prince itself serves as a kind of strategic device, blending practical advice, historical anecdote, stark language, and open-ended conclusions to lure readers into internalizing ideas they might otherwise resist. Other examples include Cyrus the Great’s use of simulated labor and reward, Socratic questioning, Zen shock therapy, religious parables, and insinuating rhetoric.

The chapter is underpinned by a tradition that privileges form over declaration, drawing on classical rhetoric, theater direction, and philosophical pedagogy rather than more modern understandings of communication. Greene situates his arguments in contexts where assertion is not typically made, such as film sets, courtrooms, philosophical debates, and religious discourse. His underlying premise is that meaning is not derived through clarity but is instead achieved by disrupting emotions and senses. This approach is more aligned with pre-modern and performative understandings of persuasion as compared to more modern understandings of clear communication. Greene considers communication as a one-way approach to the psychology of influence rather than mutual communication. As a result, the ideas remain relevant in specific visual and sensory contexts.

Greene argues that the best way to overcome a stronger opponent is not to confront the enemy head-on, but rather to create an “inner front,” infiltrate the enemy’s system, and attack it from the inside. The outside attack, on the other hand, merely provokes the enemy into solidarity. The inside attack, on the contrary, confuses the enemy, paralyzes it, and leads to its own destruction. Greene argues that this strategy is particularly effective against well-entrenched enemies, including governments, organizations, and ideologies that are impenetrable but are only sustained by internal cohesion.

To support his stance, Greene draws on diverse historical and cultural examples. The Trojan Horse serves as the paradigmatic example of the power of deception and infiltration. Another example Greene uses is the story of Wilhelm Canaris, head of Nazi Germany’s Abwehr, who sabotaged Hitler’s strategic plans from the inside by manipulating intelligence, discouraging invasions, and exploiting Hitler’s psychological weaknesses. Greene also draws on the example of Salvador Dalí’s appropriation of the surrealist movement, Hasan-i Sabbah’s bloodless coup of Alamut Castle, and the North Vietnamese conquest of the city of Hue with the help of internal sympathizers and psychological manipulation.

The chapter is informed by strategic traditions drawn from ancient and early modern conflict, royal court politics, and revolution, in which power was based on loyalty, secrecy, and morale rather than openness. Greene assumes a world with entrenched hierarchies, where opposition is considered dangerous, and ethics are secondary to effectiveness. This gives the strategy particular limitations in a democratic or trust-based world, but still explains the behavior of authoritarian, competitive, or rigid ideological systems. The argument also remains relevant in modern organizational, political, and informational conflict, where internal dissent, reputation-based fracture, and morale-based undermining often succeed where other strategies fail.

Greene argues that power is most effective when it is exercised in a concealed, aggressive manner. He defines the term “passive aggression” as a calculated attitude in which outward compliance, humility, and moral restraint serve as a cover for a genuine desire to control events and dominate competitors.

Greene supports this argument by referring to the Salt March of 1930, in which Indian lawyer and social activist Mahatma Gandhi challenged the British government through non-violent protest. Greene frames his actions as a calculated exploitation of the liberal image of the British. Gandhi selected a minor grievance of the salt tax and presented it in a religious and non-violent context, forcing the British into a position where any response would undermine their own authority. Greene also cites the diplomatic skills of Prince Klemens von Metternich as evidence of the strategic use of passive aggression. Metternich’s outward compliance with Czar Alexander I concealed a sophisticated effort to influence the course of Russian policy in a conservative direction. Other examples, such as FDR’s manipulation of his third-term nomination campaign and Dessalines’s feigning weakness in the Haitian Revolution, further illustrate the concept of submission as a tactical strategy rather than weakness.

Greene refers to cases where aggression carries a reputational cost, making indirect domination more effective than using force. He views passivity as a strategic choice, suggesting the presence of actors who can sustain a loss in the short term to provoke the opponent to overreach. This becomes the main limitation of the chapter, as the strategy’s success is dependent on the opponent’s concern with appearance, legitimacy, and emotional control. The idea of passivity becomes less feasible in conflicts where the opponents may react differently, making restraint less likely to shape the emotional and moral contours of conflict.