During his first term, Gov. Gray Davis lacked this quality. Speaking with this newspaper's editors earlier in the year, Davis grew indignant about the notion that he had panicked during the energy crisis: "If I didn't panic, you wouldn't be able to put out your paper," he said with agitation. "I kept the lights on in this state, do you understand that? I kept the lights on! (Critics) don't know what they're talking about."

Similarly, he flinched from tough choices on the budget, irrationally hoping that the situation would improve over time, like fine wine. In Sacramento, Democrats and Republicans alike scorned him for going AWOL on the state's fiscal crisis. Though ordinary voters did not follow the day-to-day details, they gradually realized that the Davis administration had turned out to be F Troop.

Republicans had an opportunity. In a state that had been trending Democratic for years, they now enjoyed a chance to elect a governor and rebuild their party. The only way they could botch it was to nominate somebody with even weaker leadership skills than Gray Davis.

That's what they did. In the GOP primary, voters chose Bill Simon over Secretary of State Bill Jones and former Los Angeles Mayor Richard Riordan. If more of these voters had watched the debates among the three candidates, they might have caught hints that Simon was not exactly Patton. The goofy grin and robotic gestures suggested a green candidate unfamiliar with political combat.

The general election campaign was the real test, of course, and Simon faltered. He signed a questionnaire saying that he would proclaim Gay Pride Day. Under fire from social conservatives, he ran away from that stand, blaming staff for filling out the questionnaire. He said that he would not release his tax returns, claiming a principled position on privacy. A barrage of criticism then spooked him, and he then let the press look at the returns. Even then, he did it halfway, giving reporters only a short glimpse and forbidding them to make copies.

Why would Republican voters pick such a candidate?

To find the answer, ponder another military concept: strategy. The term refers to a long-term overall plan linking ends and means. Though Davis is a weak policy-maker, he is a smart campaign strategist. Early on, he made the correct critical assumption that voters disliked him and that he could win only by facing an opponent they disliked more. During the GOP primary campaign, he spent millions of dollars on television ads attacking Riordan. If Riordan had won the nomination, he would have started the general election campaign with deep wounds. But by enabling a Simon victory in the primary, the attacks yielded an even better result for Davis.

Simon seemed not to have a strategy at all. He failed to realize that he was in a battle, not a seminar. His campaign produced thoughtful position papers but not a simple coherent message on why voters should elect him over Davis.

Developing and executing a strategy requires sound intelligence. "Know the enemy and know yourself," wrote the ancient Chinese warrior Sun Tzu, "and in a hundred battles you will never be in peril." Davis' opposition researchers found excellent intelligence about Simon's weaknesses, carefully selecting the most damaging bits for attack ads. Thus they invented a widespread (if false) image that Simon was a corporate crook. They also were keenly aware of Davis' own weak spots, and always stood ready to parry negative news stories or attacks from Simon.

Those attacks from Simon were seldom effective. The Simon camp knew neither its enemy nor its own standard-bearer. In midsummer came a $78 million legal judgment against the Simon family's investment firm. This news shocked Simon supporters, as his campaign had made no preparations for such a possibility. Though a court later threw out the judgment, it threw Simon badly off course.

Toward the end of the campaign, Simon accused Davis of breaking the law by taking a campaign contribution in a government office building. His "proof" was an old photograph that indeed showed Davis holding a check. But when reporters learned that the setting was actually a private residence, Simon had to retract the charge. Amid all of the governor's dubious dealings, Simon had focused on one of the few bad things that Davis hadn't done. Though Simon had touted his credentials as a cagey former prosecutor, he and his organization had simply forgotten to check their facts. Simon accomplished the near impossible: he gave Davis the high ground on campaign finance.

The mention of campaign finance brings to mind the words of King Archidamus of Sparta: "And war is not so much a matter of armaments as of the money which makes armaments effective." Davis' relentless and ruthless fund raising gave him an enormous advantage. Though wealthy, Simon did not have the Perot-size fortune to match the Davis war chest. He also needed outside contributions, which largely dried up after his early stumbles.

It got worse. Military officers speak of the "tooth to tail ratio," the proportion of resources that go directly to combat instead of support services. Simon wasted much of his limited budget on consultants, while Davis shrewdly put most of his money into television. Davis was all tooth while Simon had too much in the tail.

Republicans might have been able to overcome their financial disadvantages if they had constituted a tight, cohesive fighting machine. "The greatest discovery ever made in the art of war," wrote British statesman James Bryce, "was when men began to perceive that organization and discipline count for more than numbers."

Though the state GOP had a good staff in his headquarters, its leadership seemed less like an army than a dysfunctional family. The party chair openly quarreled with President Bush's state liaison. The candidates for statewide office kept their distance from Simon, as if he were the crazy uncle in the basement. Bruce McPherson, the nominee for lieutenant governor, campaigned on the theme that he would provide "balance" to Gray Davis. His obvious premise was that Simon would lose.

And on election night, when national Republicans were rejoicing, California was the island of GOP gloom. In the future, the party's generals will use the 2002 state campaign as the basis for their field manual. Its title will be: "Don't Do This."