Not All Fights Are Worth the Cost
A lesson in conflict from Pyrrhus. Also starring Matthew Broderick.
You’re reading Galloquium, an extended meditation on creating meaning and achieving mastery in life. This essay is part of my ongoing investigation into the principles that shape conflict.
In the ruins of ancient battlefields, among the whispers of fallen empires, lies a simple truth that has evaded countless generals, kings, and everyday people throughout history: some victories cost too much to be called victories at all.
The Shadow of Pyrrhus
Pyrrhus of Epirus, a Greek general whose name echoes through time not for his conquests but for the hollowness of his triumphs, offers us the perfect entry point into this principle. In the 3rd century B.C. this brilliant tactician deployed his armies against the emerging Roman Republic, achieving spectacular victories at Heraclea and Asculum. History records these as masterclasses in battlefield command—the kind military academies would study for millennia to come.
Yet after Asculum, as Pyrrhus surveyed the blood-soaked fields littered with the bodies of his irreplaceable elite soldiers, he reportedly uttered words that would immortalize him far more than any of his conquests: "Another such victory and we are undone."
This is the essence of what we now call a Pyrrhic victory—a triumph so costly that it might as well be a defeat. Pyrrhus won battles but hemorrhaged resources, men, and ultimately, the war itself. The Romans, seemingly defeated, simply conscripted more legions. Pyrrhus, victorious but depleted, could not sustain his campaign. By 275 BCE, after another costly "victory" at Beneventum, he withdrew from Italy, his ambitions broken against the resilience of Rome.
The lesson he learned transcends the ancient battlefield. In business negotiations, legal disputes, or family conflicts, we regularly pursue victories that extract costs far exceeding their value. We "win" arguments at the expense of relationships. We secure favorable contract terms that poison future partnerships. We achieve compliance through force rather than cooperation through persuasion.
The Paradox of Strength
There exists a paradox in conflict that Pyrrhus understood too late: often, the tender outlasts the rigid; the flexible overcomes the strong. Water—the gentlest substance—carves canyons through mountains not through force, but through persistence. The willow bends in the storm while the mighty oak breaks.
Rome embodied this principle against Pyrrhus. They absorbed losses, adapted their tactics, and allowed their seemingly unstoppable enemy to exhaust himself against their resilience. This is not merely ancient history but a living principle that operates in every domain of conflict.
Perhaps you’ve seen this in your own life. The colleague who rigidly insists on their approach may win the meeting but lose the team's support. The parent who commands through authority alone may gain compliance but sacrifice connection. The negotiator who extracts every possible concession may secure a contract but destroy the relationship. The new boss that gained their promotion via office politics that leaves them isolated. These are battles where, like Pyrrhus at Beneventum, we might technically prevail yet ultimately lose something far more valuable.
The WOPR Realization
Perhaps no modern parable captures this principle more vividly than the 1983 film WarGames. A military supercomputer called WOPR, tasked with simulating nuclear war scenarios, gains control of America's nuclear arsenal and begins preparing for an actual launch that would trigger global annihilation.
In the film's climactic scene, the protagonist (played by Matthew Broderick) has WOPR play endless games of tic-tac-toe against itself. After thousands of iterations, the computer comes to a realization: when both sides play optimally, neither can win. It then applies this insight to nuclear war, cycling through every possible scenario. Finally, with just seconds left on the clock, it aborts the nuclear launch and delivers the most iconic line in the film: "A strange game. The only winning move is not to play."
This fictional computer understood what many real people throughout history have not: some games are unwinnable by their very nature. Some conflicts offer no path to meaningful victory, only varying degrees of mutual destruction.
The Calculus of Conflict
How, then, do we determine which fights are worth the cost? The answer requires a strategic calculus that considers not just immediate outcomes but long-term consequences:
Assess the true prize. What tangible value will victory provide? Is it something you genuinely need, or merely something your ego demands?
Calculate the full cost. Consider not just material resources but emotional energy, relationship capital, reputation, and time—our most finite resource.
Examine alternative paths. Is direct confrontation the only way to achieve your objective, or are there routes that bypass conflict altogether?
Consider the precedent. Will this victory create patterns that serve you in the future, or will it establish dynamics that generate endless new conflicts?
Evaluate sustainability. Can you maintain what you gain, or will victory place you in a position you cannot hold?
Pyrrhus failed this calculus spectacularly. He correctly assessed that he could win battles against Rome but fatally misjudged his ability to sustain a prolonged campaign. His tactical brilliance was undone by strategic blindness—a pattern that repeats from bedrooms to boardrooms throughout human experience.
The Courage to Walk Away
Perhaps the most underappreciated form of courage is the willingness to walk away from conflicts that offer no path to meaningful victory. We're conditioned to believe that declining a fight signals weakness, when often it demonstrates the highest form of strategic wisdom.
Warren Buffett captures this principle in his investment philosophy: "The difference between successful people and really successful people is that really successful people say no to almost everything." This applies equally to conflicts. The most accomplished people are often those who recognize which fights are worth their precious resources and which are better left unengaged.
This requires overcoming our natural instincts. Evolutionary psychologists suggest we're hardwired to defend our status and respond to perceived slights. Our ancestors lived in environments where reputation was essential for survival—showing weakness could be fatal. But in our modern context, these same instincts often lead us into conflicts that serve no constructive purpose.
The Art of Selective Engagement
To master conflict, we must become selective about our engagements. Like a general who refuses battles on unfavorable terrain, we must learn to recognize when circumstances favor us and when they don't. This selectivity is not cowardice but wisdom—the understanding that our resources are finite and must be deployed judiciously.
Consider these principles for selective engagement:
Engage only where victory is both possible and valuable. Some conflicts offer either impossible odds or trivial rewards. Both should be avoided.
Choose terrain that favors your strengths. If verbal debate is your weakness, don't engage adversaries there. If written communication is your strength, shift conflicts to that medium when possible.
Timing is everything. Some conflicts that seem unwinnable today may become manageable tomorrow as circumstances change. Patience is often the most powerful weapon in your arsenal.
Recognize when a conflict has been manufactured to deplete you. Some adversaries create conflicts specifically to drain your resources. Identifying these traps is essential to avoiding them.
The Ultimate Victory
The most profound victory in conflict often comes not from defeating your opponent but from transforming the nature of your relationship. When we shift from competition to collaboration, from zero-sum thinking to mutual benefit, we achieve something far more valuable than triumph in any single engagement.
Pyrrhus never achieved this with Rome. He remained locked in a paradigm of conquest that ultimately destroyed him. But history offers countless examples of former adversaries who found greater success through alliance than they ever could through continued conflict.
The Cold War ended not through nuclear exchange, but through the gradual recognition that cooperation offered better prospects than competition. Business rivals regularly form partnerships that benefit both more than continued competition would. Even in personal relationships, former adversaries often become the strongest allies once they recognize their common interests.
This transformation—from adversary to ally—represents the ultimate victory in conflict. It's not achieved through force but through understanding, not through domination but through discovery of mutual benefit. This is the highest expression of strategic wisdom: not merely winning conflicts but transcending them entirely.
The WOPR Wisdom
WOPR's epiphany—"The only winning move is not to play"—contains wisdom that applies far beyond nuclear war. In our personal and professional lives, we regularly face conflicts where engagement itself guarantees some form of loss. Recognizing these situations and having the courage to walk away from them is perhaps the most valuable conflict skill we can develop.
Pyrrhus of Epirus, despite his tactical genius, never learned this lesson. His name became synonymous with victory that feels like defeat. But we can learn from his costly education. We can develop the wisdom to see which conflicts offer paths to meaningful victory and which promise only Pyrrhic triumphs.
As you navigate life's inevitable conflicts, keep this principle in mind: Not all fights are worth the cost. Your greatest victories might not look like victories at all—they might instead be the conflicts you wisely decline, the grudges you refuse to hold, and the cycles of retaliation you chose to break. The wisest among us are those who understand when to engage and—more importantly—when to walk away.
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References and Further Reading
Quotes and References
The account of Pyrrhus' statement "Another such victory and we are undone" comes from Plutarch's Life of Pyrrhus. While the exact wording varies in translation, this sentiment is recorded after the Battle of Asculum (279 BCE). I recommend the Penguin Classics edition of Plutarch's Lives, translated by Ian Scott-Kilvert.
The 1983 film WarGames was directed by John Badham. The line is delivered by the WOPR computer (voiced by actor John Wood) in the film's climactic scene.
Warren Buffett's insight that "The difference between successful people and really successful people is that really successful people say no to almost everything" comes from an interview with business reporter Alice Schroeder, later published in her biography of Buffett, The Snowball: Warren Buffett and the Business of Life.
The metaphor of water carving canyons through mountains draws from Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching, particularly verse 78, which states: "Nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water; but for attacking the hard and strong, nothing can surpass it." I prefer Stephen Mitchell’s translation, but Sam Torode’s is also very good.
The willow and oak metaphor has roots in Aesop's Fables, specifically "The Oak and the Reed," though I've adapted it to feature the willow, which is more commonly used in modern renditions of this ancient wisdom. I read this version to my children some months ago.
Additional Perspectives
Ryan Holiday's The Obstacle Is the Way is a modern examination of Stoic principles that align with the selective engagement philosophy I’ve shared here. Holiday explores how what appears to be adversity often contains the seeds of opportunity—if we have the wisdom to recognize it.
William Ury's Getting to Yes with Yourself offers a fascinating complement to our look at conflict transformation. Ury, co-founder of Harvard's Program on Negotiation, argues that our most difficult negotiations are often with ourselves, and that internal clarity must precede external resolution. I read this edition, which I picked up at a used bookstore for $1. As far as I can tell, it’s basically the same as the newer edition, despite the different subtitle.
For those interested in the neurological and evolutionary basis of our conflict responses, Robert Sapolsky's Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst offers fascinating insights into why we react as we do to challenges and threats, and how we might transcend our more primitive impulses.