Anyone in a position of leadership, whether in business or politics, will most likely at some point ask themselves the question: In times of growth, what is most worth seeking, breadth or depth? Aristotle, known for his belief in the golden mean, recommended both. But he distinguished carefully between them: breadth for wisdom (sophia), depth for scientific knowledge (episteme).
The debate has led to all sorts of theories, including the traditional folk wisdom of warning against the risk of “spreading oneself too thin” (excess breadth, insufficient depth) or proverbially noting that “a jack of all trades is master of none,” expressing a bias in favor of depth.
From a prudential point of view, seeking depth seems the surer, safer approach. But the modern economy and the examples provided by the likes of Apple, Microsoft, Google and Amazon have produced a model of growth and ambition in which a rapid achievement of perceived depth — based on an initial laser-like focus on either hardware, software or even selling books — serves to install a platform destined to become ever-expanding and attain practically limitless breadth. Stretching across the landscape is natural when one feels solidly rooted in a fertile earth.
The psychologist Angela Duckworth famously insisted on the importance of depth, which she describes as “grit,” or perseverance in a single direction. Others, such as Todd Kashdan, emphasize breadth that unfolds thanks to curiosity and the cognitive flexibility of generalists.
If Genghis Khan proved more successful than other more ephemeral military conquerors such as Alexander the Great, Napoleon Bonaparte and Adolf Hitler, it was because of the organizational depth of the Khan’s original non-linear logistical focus, featuring his “Yam system,” a complex relay of mounted couriers. Was Genghis our first network thinker? The depth of that potentially encompassing idea made possible the most rapid extension of geographical breadth in world history.
As we continue to witness an increasingly destructive war of expansion — perceived as an illegitimate quest for expanded breadth either on the part of NATO or Russia, depending on whom you prefer to blame — the question of depth vs. breadth has once again come to the fore. Ukraine’s spectacular “Spiderweb operation” just days ago forcefully struck military targets deep into Russia even as far as 4,000 kilometers beyond its national border. It achieved obvious breadth, impressing both the Russians and especially Western media. What it lacked, however, was depth, as most successful operations focused on PR tend to do. That remark could apply to the whole history of NATO, an organization that over the past 30 years has quite successfully extended its breadth (after solemnly promising not to) at the expense of its depth.
If we are to believe one of NATO’s most vocal leaders, French President Emmanuel Macron, the trend towards breadth is still in the cards. Why stop at Europe (Ukraine), West Asia (Afghanistan) and North Africa (Libya) when NATO has the potential to reach around the circumference of the globe? According to a Politico article that appeared on Friday, “Emmanuel Macron warned China that NATO could become more deeply involved in Asia if Beijing does not do more to stop North Korea from taking part in Russia’s war on Ukraine.”
Today’s Weekly Devil’s Dictionary definition:
Deeply involved:
In geopolitics — according to the usage of the presumably democratic model that guides Western Europe and North America — surreptitiously installed in specific places to exert influence and ultimately control, following the model of the jewelled cockroach wasp by zombifying its host.
Contextual note
Even in promoting the idea of breadth by defining a role for NATO to play in the extreme Orient, Macron felt the need to pay lip service to depth by promising to see it “deeply involved.” Politico points to a troubling paradox: “France has long maintained that the transatlantic military alliance shouldn’t expand its reach into Asia and led the campaign to block the opening of a NATO liaison office in Japan in 2023.” But Macron is the kind of politician who has always felt empowered to shift from one position to its opposite. In his very first political campaign, he proclaimed his right to embracing opposites “en même temps” (literally, “at the same time”). That was his official slogan back in 2016, when he boldly asserted he was both left and right.
We shouldn’t be surprised to see Macron aim for breadth and depth at the same time, even concerning NATO, an institution he does not control. The problem, however, is that in contrast with Aristotle, his reasoning shows no inclination for either sophia nor episteme. In the fraught geopolitical landscape of 2025, dominated by an impulsive, volatile and capricious orange “leader of the free world” and de facto dictator of NATO, suggesting the radical extension of NATO and a goal of deep involvement sounds like the summit of irrationality.
NATO expansion, whether consciously or not, has literally thrown Europe into a state of permanent chaos; political, military and economic chaos. Putin warned us about it in 2008 and even gave a detailed explanation of why. US ambassador Bill Burns and later political scientist John Mearsheimer saw chaos as inevitable if expansion were to be pursued. Common sense dictated that no good could possibly come of such a conflict for Europeans, which is why Angela Merkel and Nicolas Sarkozy opposed expansion to Ukraine at the time. In contrast, even the class dunce on the other side of the Atlantic (and, of course, Lindsey Graham) could appreciate the monetary value such a conflict might have for the US military-industrial complex.
One deplorable result is that democracy in Europe has taken a serious hit. The toolbox of the European Commission — a pseudo-democratic institution, if ever there was one — now includes active support of the canceling of election results (Romania in December 2024) whenever they appear to threaten an increasingly isolated political elite. France and Germany have set about either disqualifying popular candidates (Marine Le Pen) or threatening to ban rising parties.
Largely thanks to a long history culminating with US President Joe Biden’s initiative back in 2021 of rejecting as a source of inefficiency any residual notion of diplomatic engagement, Europe’s current leaders have discovered the surest way of ensuring that democracy is simply to sideline it. Europe is no longer a community of sovereign nations, but focuses its identity around NATO. The Ukraine war has served to create a semblance of unity not as a common market, but an imagined future federated army.
This ongoing drama has turned into something resembling Alfred Jarry’s celebrated absurd tragi-comedy of “Ubu roi.” It has Macron and UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer playing the lead role on alternate days. Assuming the position of casting director, Starmer just this week made an appeal for supporting roles and extras: “Every part of society, every citizen of this country, has a role to play because we have to recognise that things have changed in the world of today.”
Historical note
No one should doubt that this is a monumentally significant period of transition in world history. Starmer and Macron see themselves as visionary leaders capable of guiding global events simply by verbally dramatizing the gravity of the issues and claiming to be the central actors. In reality, Europe has — perhaps for the first time in two millennia — found itself in a historical limbo, strutting and fretting like an over-the-hill actor spouting his lines on a tacky stage. Here’s Starmer boldly announcing: “The front line, if you like, is here.” Perhaps he would “like” you to believe the front line is “here” (in Glasgow where he gave the speech? Or in 10 Downing Street?). That telling phrase, “if you like,” highlights the lame comedy of his script.
Macron has an equally compelling message about the course of history in which, as Starmer helpfully points out, “things have changed.” “The French president,” Politico reports, “also warned against the risk of nuclear proliferation and the potential collapse of the global order established after World War II.” Such comments, like Starmer’s on the changing world reveal their mutual commitment to the equivalent of Hamlet’s speculation about taking “arms against a sea of troubles” (Russia). They see this truly impossible mission as the key to preventing the collapse of a wonderful order that — sorry, dear Manu — is already beyond repair.
All this militaristic bombast projected by the leaders of enfeebled nations chained together within an unstructured alliance incapable of acting — militarily, politically or otherwise — in any coherent way, is designed not to define the future of Europe, but in the hope that their operatic bellicosity will convince Donald Trump to take them seriously and underpin their “cause.” They’re formulating their appeal at the very moment when the wild man in the White House has signaled his resolute reluctance to listen to their pleas.
The comedy we’re witnessing reveals broad but unintentional humor in a context that is deeply ironic. It points unambiguously towards an outcome that is likely to strike the audience as an unadulterated tragedy.
*[In the age of Oscar Wilde and Mark Twain, another American wit, the journalist Ambrose Bierce, produced a series of satirical definitions of commonly used terms, throwing light on their hidden meanings in real discourse. Bierce eventually collected and published them as a book, The Devil’s Dictionary, in 1911. We have shamelessly appropriated his title in the interest of continuing his wholesome pedagogical effort to enlighten generations of readers of the news. Read more of The Fair Observer Devil’s Dictionary.]
[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.
