Sun Tzu's Art of War: A modern exposition

By Sam Hua

Only enter the battles you know you can win. Know how to deceive the enemy – appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak. These are some of the key principles from The Art of War, the definitive text on military strategy and warfare, written by the Chinese general Sun Tzu around 500 BC. This book by Sam Hua, bestselling author on Ancient Chinese philosophy and wisdom, provides today’s reader with a thorough understanding of The Art of War, both in its original context and how it can be applied in modern times.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LID Publishing
• Release date: Mar 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781911671329

Book preview

PREFACE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION OF THE ART OF WAR

This is my second book published in the UK, and it is a great pleasure to address British readers again.

Winston Churchill is my idol. I admire him as a prime minister who was elected twice and led the British people to victory in the Second World War. He was also an author who amassed a great volume of writing and won the Nobel Prize for Literature, despite the heavy workload and constant pressure from his ‘other’ position. I have read his memoirs of the First World War, the Second World War, and especially his four-volume work, A History of the English Speaking People. I am honored to be able to bring my work to the UK, which is an important milestone for my publication in the English-speaking world.

Unlike works written by historians, Churchill writes through the lens of the insiders of state governance and war. As a statesman, Churchill embodied the unity of knowledge necessary for running a country, and he took the decisive actions called for in extreme situations. He understood the fundamentals of history.

My primary identity is as a businessman, rather than a scholar or writer. I have been keen on Chinese traditional culture since childhood, and these thoughts and values have melted into my very core. My every action corresponds to the teachings of Chinese sages. I have published a whole series of books on the interpretation of ancient Chinese history, including Confucianism and the art of war. The original Chinese version of my reflections on Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was a hit, with 600,000 copies sold in China, and many more in South Korea and Thailand. The UK will be the fourth country to publish it.

A man speaks the philosophy he believes in. The Art of War is the guiding philosophy for my business ventures. I summarize it in the following four sentences:

1. The art of war is not a study of how to engage in war, but of how not to engage in war.

2. The art of war is not about how to achieve victory, but how to reinforce oneself against defeat.

3. The art of war is not about strategies for winning battles, but the theory of winning first and fighting later.

4. The art of war is not a lesson in how to win with a force inferior in number, but how to win with a dominant force of troops.

These four principles are of the most fundamental importance in The Art of War!

First and foremost, The Art of War teaches more about how not to fight wars rather than how to fight them. If the world had followed the logic of Sun Tzu, there might not have been a single war in all of human history.

In the first sentence of The Art of War, he says, The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected. This means that war is a matter of existential importance to the nation, and the survival of the nation should not be taken lightly! The idea behind this is that you shouldn’t start a war heedlessly. In business terms, Sun Tzu is ‘risk averse.’

Chinese people see themselves and reflect upon themselves in books. Before you start this book, ask yourself if your appetite for risk is high or low? Just as before you open an account for investment, a bank or fund manager will give you a questionnaire to test your willingness to take on risk. That’s the starting point of The Art of War, and if you’re a risk taker by nature, don’t continue reading this book.

The first chapter in The Art of War is ‘Calculations.’ It asks you to calculate your chances of winning. If you’re not sure of a win, don’t fight.

The second chapter is ‘Waging War.’ It is supposed to be about fighting the war, but in fact it’s about the cost of war. Even after deducing that there is a chance of success, if you determine that the cost is too high, don’t fight!

So, the first chapter tells us ‘don’t fight if you can’t win,’ and the second chapter is about ‘don’t fight if you can’t afford to, even if there is a chance of winning.’

The third chapter is ‘Laying attacks.’ At that point you may think we’ve finally gotten to the strategies of combat, but this chapter is still about avoiding war. After we follow the advice of the first two chapters — calculating the balance of power and the cost of war — Sun Tzu still warns us to wait, even though we’re in the advantageous position. He asks if there is a way to bend the enemy’s troops into submission, all while never having to fight a battle.

In the third chapter, I also touch upon the fourth principle I spoke of earlier: it’s not about how to win with a force inferior in number, but how to win with dominant force. It’s about pursuing the smallest victory with an overwhelming advantage. The weakness of human nature is always wanting to win more, with the least possible expenditure of energy and resources. However, in war and in business, the chance of success is small and the cost of failure is quite high. We’re used to setting goals unrealistically high, and then failing to reach these lofty ambitions, with no way of securing the bottom line and the possibility of falling into the abyss. In contrast, Sun Tzu’s philosophy is to pursue small goals with the absolute strength to ensure certain victory. In fact, one may achieve a bit more than one set out to achieve, and the reward is not capped.

In this world, many factors that are beyond our control dictate what happens in our lives. If we acknowledge that, how can we expect to control the external environment and the enemy? So, we have to keep our goals within our control, and leaving the rest to fate and fortune.

Luck always plays a role in success, just as emotions play a role in decision-making. We need to control our emotions, make careful decisions, avoid risks and embrace good luck.

The fourth chapter is about ‘Formation.’ After the first three steps of calculation, you know that you can win the war and afford the cost, yet you can’t defeat your enemies without fighting. So, what comes the next? Combat? Sun Tzu said, No, not until we have won. This is the core aspect of his way of thinking: Win first, fight later. In war, the victorious strategist only seeks battle after the victory has been won, whereas he who is destined to be defeated first fights and looks for victory afterward. No one is defeated by others, but by himself. As we’ve said, The Art of War is not about how to achieve victory, but how to protect oneself against defeat. Compared to defeating others, to protect oneself against defeat lies in one’s own hands.

This is the essence of the art of war: There is no formula for winning at war, only a way to position yourself where defeat is impossible. If you can realize that, from this point of view, the whole notion of the art of war is ‘useless,’ you have indeed learned the art of war.

Many people, including the Chinese themselves, have a misconception about the art of war. They see it as an ancient and mysterious eastern stratagem, and think that whoever masters it will be invincible In fact, if you really understand the book, you will know that there is no such strategy or tactic.

How can you protect yourself from defeat? To take investing as an example, the American business tycoon and philanthropist Warren Buffett has only two rules for making investments — Rule No. 1: Never lose money; Rule No. 2: Never forget Rule No.1. In 50 years of investing, sometimes you earn more, sometimes you earn less, but as long as you don’t lose money every year, you’re that much closer to being the richest man in the world.

What about other people in the stock market? Everyone aspires to be the next Buffet — the all-knowing ‘Sage of Omaha.’ And yet, they neglect the inevitable market fluctuations that govern their investments. And so, in the long run, their losses cancel out their gains.

We can’t be certain of defeating the enemy. We win or lose as a result of how we control ourselves after calculating the odds of winning. Therefore, once again, the principle of the art of war is not how to defeat others, but how to avoid defeat. Just as in the business world, we keep a close eye on competitors, as if they were ‘enemies,’ about to take our share. But that is the wrong strategy, according to Sun Tzu. If you run your business well, what does it matter whether another’s businesses boom or wane? He may get it right, but you can sustain your ability to succeed too. If the other falters, you get his market share. As Sun Tzu put it, A good fighter conquers an enemy that is already defeated.

To win first, fight later. To protect oneself from defeat, rather than to seek victory. To conquer an enemy who’s already defeated. To accumulate with the dominant advantage. How can we do all this? By simply waiting, as the Prussian general and military theorist Carl von Clausewitz put forth in his book, On War. The concept of ‘waiting,’ he suggested, is itself a powerful action.

Yet, von Clausewitz wasn’t the first to suggest this idea. The British military strategist BH Liddell Hart asserted that the two greatest books ever written about warfare were The Art of War and On War, which was written some 2,000 years after Sun Tzu’s masterwork. I’ve studied the ideas of Western strategists like von Clausewitz, Liddell Hart, AH de Jomini, John Frederick Charles Fuller and others, and have compared their observations and theories to those in The Art of War.

A theme that runs through all of these works is, quite simply, ‘LEARN TO WAIT!’ We’re always seeking victory. Yet, Sun Tzu’s The Art of War tells us to put ourselves in the position where we cannot be defeated, grow our strength, and wait for the opportunity to defeat the enemy.

Another ancient Chinese sage, Wang Yangming, said that ‘the anxiety of victory’ is the enemy of life. We need to scrutinize our mind while learning the teachings of Sun Tzu, and focus on the goal of not being defeated, rather than gaining victories.

So, The Art of War is a study of being not defeated over the course of one’s entire life. That’s why Sun Tzu said, To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence. He knew that one big defeat can cost you all the victories you’ve achieved.

To learn the art of war, our goal is to learn to put ourselves in the position that remains undefeatable! This is the minimum goal. What do you think of this minimum goal? Do you think that’s the path to greatest success?

The minimum is the core of greatness.

This is also the wisdom of China.

— Sam Hua

August 2020

THE VALUE SYSTEM OF SUN TZU’S THE ART OF WAR

The very first word of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War is so often misread. The unwitting reader then veers far off course and away from the actual meaning — and it’s all because of differences in value systems. The word in question is the word in the title of the first chapter, ‘Ji’ (计), which is translated as ‘calculation.’

The Chinese word ‘ji’ has another meaning — ‘stratagem’— and also forms part of the title of another ancient Chinese military text, The Thirty-Six Stratagems. Readers often lump Sun Tzu’s The Art of War and The Thirty-Six Stratagems in the same category. In fact, the two texts have been combined in a single book: Sun Tzu’s Art of War and The Thirty-Six Stratagems. And yet, they are not at all the same. Both feature this word ji, but in The Thirty-Six Stratagems, it means something like, ‘ingenious strategies,’ or ‘wily manoeuvring.’ In The Art of War, ji has nothing to do with ingenious strategies; what he meant by ji is ‘making careful calculations.’

So, what does the word ji being interpreted to mean ‘ingenious strategies’ have to do with value systems? Well, this question touches upon a very human weakness — the desire to come up with some brilliantly clever strategy that can deliver rapid, definitive results. But this mentality is exactly what Sun Tzu was speaking out against. The Art of War is a book that teaches victory by means of actual, solid strength, not by sneaky stratagems.

To Sun Tzu, ji (making calculations) is a fundamental principle, not a specific strategy that a commander can deploy in battle. It is obvious and inelegant rather than ingenious and subtle. It’s about calculating the balance of power in concrete terms — the ‘Five Factors and Seven Considerations.’

The ‘Five Factors’ are: (1) The Moral Law; (2) Heaven; (3) Earth; (4) The Commander; (5) Method and Discipline. The ‘Seven Considerations’ are: (1) Which of the two kings is imbued with The Moral Law? (2) Which of the two generals has the most ability? (3) With whom lie the advantages derived from Heaven and Earth? (4) On which side is discipline most rigorously enforced? (5) Which army is stronger? (6) On which side are officers and men more highly trained? (7) In which army is there the greater consistency both in reward and punishment?

Basically, it’s about comparing the two sides’ political situation, timing, geographical conditions, personnel talent, discipline and institutional frameworks. Actually, what Sun Tzu means by ji is the equivalent of the modern-day management studies SWOT analysis, which is used to compare the Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities and Threats of both sides.

But then, what is the objective of ‘calculations’? It’s all about knowing which side will win. By comparing each side’s ‘Five Factors and Seven Considerations,’ you can determine who will win and who will lose before the war has even begun, and thus whether or not your side has the formula for success.

The writer Du Mu, in his commentary on The Art of War, offers a clear explanation of the original text:

‘Plan’ — that is, to ‘calculate.’ Someone asks: ‘What does it mean to calculate?’ Someone else responds: ‘At its core, it refers to the Five Factors, which are called: The Moral Law; Heaven; Earth; The Commander; Method; and Discipline.’ The first thing to do is to go to the temple and calculate the Five Factors of your own forces and those of your adversary. After having done this, one can determine who will be the victor and who will be the vanquished. When victor and vanquished are determined, then shall you summon the generals and mobilize the people. In the art of war, nothing precedes these Five Factors. That is why they appear in the first chapter.

What we call the ‘formula for success’ means first calculating who will win and who will lose, and only going to war once victory is already yours. This is the very core of Sun Tzu’s way of thinking — ‘First obtain victory, then go to war.’ Or, as I like to put it, ‘Win first, fight later.’

In all of Chinese history, who was the most brilliant and effective strategist? When Chinese people hear the word ji, the first historical figure who comes to mind is Zhuge Liang. When the word ji is used to talk about him, it is in the sense of ‘ingenious strategies,’ and not referring to the Five Factors and Seven Considerations. He would never pass muster if judged by these standards — Sun Tzu’s standards. He held not a single advantage over his enemy, the state of Wei, in terms of either a SWOT analysis or The Moral Law, Heaven, Earth, The Commanders, Method or Discipline. But, he had a dream, and so he summoned his generals, mobilized his people, marched out from the mountains of Qi and rapidly stormed onto the central plains. His war brought ruin on the country and the people, and left the fields strewn with corpses. He took huge risks, and the fact that he won involved a generous helping of luck. Yet, despite this, he also had a reputation as the most cautious person alive, someone who never engaged in a battle that he didn’t have complete control over, and who retreated at the first sign of a problem. This begs the question: why did he feel the need to mobilize his troops and start a war in the first place?

Zhuge Liang’s ‘strategy’ was a muddled, sloppy version of the concept ji. So, then, why is Zhuge Liang so famous and beloved by the people of China? The answer is that people love a good story, and he is at the centre of a truly great one. Good stories are a common by-product of ‘ingenious strategies.’

True strategy, and true victory, do not make for good stories. In fact, they usually seem quite dull. This point actually comes up in Sun Tzu’s The Art of War: Good fighters have neither a reputation for wisdom nor merit for courage. Zhuge Liang became more renowned for his wisdom than anyone else throughout 5,000 years of Chinese history. Yet, 700 years before Zhuge Liang was born, Sun Tzu said: Good fighters have neither a reputation for wisdom … In other words, if a man is renowned for his wisdom, he is not a good fighter. When a good fighter does go to war, it’s a dull event — not at all story-worthy. This is one of the key lessons we have to learn from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. Where the layman sees only what is dull and unremarkable, that is where we will find the great way of the masters. That is where we must go to learn the true skills of the greats.

SUN TZU’S ‘REVERENT WARINESS’

For Sun Tzu, ‘the art of war’ is not the art of fighting battles, but the art of not fighting battles. It is not the art of winning by fighting battles, but the art of winning without fighting battles. It is not the art of fighting battles first and winning later, but the art of winning first and then fighting battles later.

Extract from the original text:

The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence, it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected.

Analysis:

Sun Tzu made it quite clear that military affairs are of huge national importance — literally a matter of survival and ruin, life and death. Military affairs must be carefully scrutinized, and never taken lightly. Sun Tzu considered this point so fundamental to war that he made sure to address it before anything else, at the start of the first chapter of The Art of War. Like Sun Tzu, Confucius also attached great importance to wariness. In the major Confucian text, The Doctrine of the Mean, while expounding its version of the Dao, heavy emphasis is laid on the idea of ‘caution and fear.’ This is the idea that one should be cautious and not take risks; that one should be scared of the unknown, and always be alert and constantly scrutinizing not only yourself but also anything you may have overlooked or don’t know about.

At this point, I think we’ve made it pretty clear that the idea of not fighting battles is a major motif in The Art of War. If a leader puts into practice all of Sun Tzu’s teachings, they will successfully bend their enemy’s troops into submission, all while never having to fight a battle.

It would be perfectly correct to say that The Art of War is more a study of how not to fight wars than how to fight wars. This partly explains why the only biographical information we have about Sun Tzu’s life is very vague, while other generals of the same time period, like Wu Zixu, left many a fabulous tale behind.

Consider these words: Good fighters have neither a reputation for wisdom nor merit for courage, but excel in winning easy battles. When Sun Tzu wrote about ‘victory,’ he meant the kind of victory that is sealed in the temple while plans are being drawn, not the kind that’s snatched from the enemy on the battlefield. This ideal of victory is, from the start, contemptuous of the kind of stirring war stories that become inspiration for poems and songs. Sun Tzu seeks victory long before battle erupts, a victory in which his troops need never dirty their blades with enemy blood.

Do Sun Tzu’s warnings about war being ‘a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin’ only apply to military leaders with armies behind them? Not at all; these words hold meaning for each and every one of us. For example, behind every move in a company’s business operations, behind every pen-stroke, fortunes hang in the balance, lives could be changed, and reputations made or broken. The pen can be straight or crooked, wielded with truth or falsehood. One false move, and you can be sure it will come back to bite you, even if in the short term there seems to be no ill effect.

How much life and money could be saved if we all embraced this ‘reverent wariness,’ and this sense of responsibility, and recognized that every move we make could mean either a new lease on life or abject ruin for ourselves, our families, our companies and clients, and indeed for other people and society at large?

If I have a job, my workplace is an arena. It’s a place where life and death face off. The way I carry myself through life affects the balance of life and death. This is the wariness and sense of responsibility that I hope every one of us can take into our hearts.

SUN TZU’S ANALYTIC METHOD FOR STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES: THE ‘FIVE FACTORS’

Extract from the original text:

The art of war, then, is governed by five constant factors, to be taken into account in one’s deliberations, when seeking to determine the conditions obtaining in the field. These are: (1) The Moral Law; (2) Heaven; (3) Earth; (4) The Commander; (5) Method and Discipline.

Analysis:

I have already mentioned that the concept of ji (making calculations) in Sun Tzu’s The Art of War is the way of calculating the balance of strengths and weaknesses between one’s own forces and the enemy. As noted, it’s in fact very similar to a SWOT analysis used today in corporate strategy to calculate strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats.

Now, let’s talk about how the balance of the Five Factors is calculated: The Moral Law, Heaven, Earth, The Commander, and Method and Discipline.

The ‘Moral Law’ (the Dao) is about the ruler’s ability to obtain the compliance of the people, which is achieved by winning their trust through demonstrating grace. Basically, it’s about whether the people do what you tell them to do. It’s about whether your ruler is an enlightened lord who possesses The Moral Law, or a crass despot to whom such a thing is a foreign concept. The Moral Law is about comparing each side’s political situation, and the leadership ability of each side’s ruler.

‘Heaven’ and ‘Earth’ form a pair. Heaven is about following the timing of nature (‘heaven’), and Earth is about having knowledge of the lay of the land. Even if the way you carry out a mission is the same regardless of when you do it, you still have to consider the timing. If the timing is right, success will follow. But if the timing is wrong, nothing you can do will make it work.

Once you have compared the idiosyncrasies of each side’s ruler, the natural timing, and the advantageousness of the terrain, it is time to compare ‘The Commander.’ Whose general is more skillful? This is about appointing someone who is wise, competent and even-handed: a sage. This is why moles are often used during war — agents who are sent to bribe the enemy ruler’s most trusted advisors and ministers. This is the ‘stratagem of sowing discord.’ Your agent infiltrates the enemy court and feeds the ruler incriminating information about his most capable generals. The aim is for him to call these generals back to court and away from the front lines, and then send out some moron in their place. It’s then that you strike.

Finally, we compare ‘Method and Discipline’ (discipline is normally translated as ‘law’). This has nothing to do with a country’s politics, which is about The Moral Law, or the Dao, more than anything else. ‘Method and Discipline’ are about military law.

The commentator Wang Xi wrote: "The art of war is governed by Five Factors. The Dao of using military force is about harmonious interpersonal relations (this is the most fundamental) and natural timing and favourable terrain (this is auxiliary)." One should only raise an army when all three of these factors have been achieved. Once you’ve decided to raise an army, you have to choose your generals and your commander-in-chief. Once the commander-in-chief has been selected, it’s time to drill method and discipline. The commander-in-chief must have strong abilities in leadership, formulating clear and strict rules and orders, and ensuring strict obedience.

That wraps up our explanation of the order of the Five Factors: first ‘The Moral Law,’ then ‘Heaven,’ followed by ‘Earth,’ ‘The Commander,’ and finally ‘Method and Discipline.’

The commentator Zhang Yu also makes a point of explaining the order of the Five Factors. He said the reason ‘The Commander’ and ‘Method and Discipline’ are put in last place is that whenever a ruler decides to raise an army to attack some neighbouring despot, the first thing to be done, when you’re planning in the temple, is to analyse how much loyalty each side’s ruler inspires in their people. Are they are willing to die for him? The next step is to gauge the natural timing: whether going to war would be in keeping with the timing or in conflict with it. Then, the terrain must be analysed — is it easy or treacherous? When these three factors are in place, it’s time to send your general out into the field. Once your troops have crossed the border and left your country, ‘Method and Discipline’ are entirely in the hands of your commander.

That is why the Five Factors are put in this order. They are used in sequence to calculate and compare each side’s strengths and weaknesses, and to form a picture of the prospects of victory or defeat.

VICTORY BELONGS TO THE SIDE THAT IS UNITED IN DESIRE, FROM THE HIGHEST GENERAL TO THE LOWEST SOLDIER

Extract from the original text:

"The Moral Law (Dao) causes the people to be in complete accord with their ruler, so that they will follow him regardless of their lives, undismayed by any danger."

Analysis:

Sun Tzu’s interpretation of the Dao is very clear. It is the ‘Moral Law’ — the ability to make the people of one mind with their ruler, and the soldiers of one mind with their general. The winning side will be the one that can achieve this.

When the people and the leaders are united, share common moral values and have the same desires, the country has the internal foundation for waging war. This boils down to whether or not the people support the war effort. You should only fight if the whole country supports you. If you don’t have unanimous support, you shouldn’t make any rash moves.

This should not be confused with the righteousness of any given war; that is not what Sun Tzu is talking about. He is concerned with a different question: do the people support the war? Japan’s pre-Second World War invasion of China is a good example. If the Dao was about having a righteous cause, then of course Japan did not have the Dao. However, that’s not the answer you get if you look at it in terms of whether ‘the people are in complete accord with their ruler.’ Japanese militaristic propaganda had already whipped the country into wild enthusiasm for war. The conditions existed where ‘they will follow their ruler regardless of their lives, undismayed by any danger.’ For the Japanese people, whether they lived or died did not even enter into the equation, with the most extreme example being the suicidal kamikaze fighter pilots.

If you look at China during the Japanese invasion and occupation (1937-1945 CE), it was not a unified state. There was constant fighting between regional warlords, on top of which, the Nationalist Party and the Communist Party were engaged in a civil war. The common people yearned for peace. They had no appetite for war, nor did they have a unifying emperor who could inspire universal loyalty. China was on the losing side of the Japanese invasion for eight years, and lost at the very first of the Five Factors — The Moral Law, which compels people to be ‘in complete accord with their ruler.’

The Dao, as it is interpreted by military men, is not about cosmic truths. To them, it’s a simple question of whether the people support your war or not. Are they loyal to the ruler, or aren’t they? Are they willing to lay down their life for their country? It’s irrelevant whether the war is ‘just’ or not. Anyone who goes to war will claim that they are on the right side. So, how do we know who is on the side of good? We can only even begin to see who ‘the good guys’ were several years, or perhaps a decade or more, after the war has ended. After that, it takes many decades, or a century, before there is any kind of unanimous verdict. If you want to use the Dao to win a war, the key is to get three things right: policy, publicity (propaganda) and the mindset of your troops. If you can do that, people will willingly fight by your side.

If you make the Dao your first priority, you understand that in war, the state’s propaganda machine is just as important as its war machine. One could argue that’s it’s even more important. The Mao-era army leader, Lin Biao, realized the truth of this when he said that anyone attempting to seize power must rely on two barrels: the barrel of the gun, and the barrel of the pen. These same two barrels are also vital tools for solidifying power.

Some historians in the field of communications studies consider Sun Tzu the first thinker to write about propaganda, and indeed the origins of communications studies lie in military propaganda. Propaganda Technique in the World War, a book written after the First World War by American political scientist Harold Lasswell, became one of the seminal works of communications studies, and many of its ideas are identical to those of Sun Tzu.

HEAVENLY TIMING: MILITARY USES OF METEOROLOGY

Extract from the original text:

Heaven signifies night and day, cold and heat, times and seasons.

Analysis:

Cao Cao commented on this passage: "When launching an attack, conform with Heaven on the basis of Yin and Yang and the four seasons. Hence, it is written in The Methods of the Sima (another of the Seven Military Classics, written by Sima Rangju): ‘One does not mobilize troops in winter or summer; this is how one extends love toward the people.’"

But, did Cao Cao stick to his own rules? Not at all. In fact, he suffered a famous defeat precisely because he didn’t heed his own words — the Battle of Red Cliffs. Before the battle, his adversaries Zhou Yu and Sun Quan had essentially carried out a SWOT analysis. They wrote: Now is a time of great cold; the horses have no grass to eat, and Cao’s troops have travelled far from the Chinese heartland. They are unfamiliar with the conditions in the south and are not yet acclimatized, so they are vulnerable to infectious illnesses; this is not the way one should handle one’s army.

Yin and Yang, cold and heat, and the four seasons are a progressive series of concepts. Heaven is made up of two kinds of qi, Yin and Yang. When one expands, the other contracts, and it is this fluctuating dynamic that gives rise to cold and heat. The changing balance of cold and heat is marked by the four seasons.

In fact, in military discussions there are three layers of meaning within ‘Heaven’:

1. The grand scheme of things in the world at large (‘all under heaven’). This is about conducting one’s worldly business in a way that conforms with Heaven.

2. Observing the stars, the clouds, and qi ; burning turtle shells and divining the meaning in the cracks that form.

3. The four seasons; weather forecasting and using weather conditions to one’s advantage in war.

The first point is about the macro-level situation and grand strategies. Questions relating to this point are worked out long before raising an army.

In discussions of the third point, strategists such as Wu Qi in his Warring States-era (475-221 BCE) book, The Wuzi, analyse weather conditions using a standard set of terms. These include ‘strong winds,’ ‘time of great cold,’ ‘midsummer’ and ‘blistering heat.’ Different decisions are made depending on the benefits or dangers of the conditions at hand. Weather can even be used as a weapon. For example, if you plan to use fire against your enemy, you’ll need to rely upon the wind, which essentially means relying on ‘Heaven.’

Of all three of the aspects of ‘Heaven,’ the second one is the most talked about: divination. However, talking about it is precisely the key; it is about making sure everyone hears what you are saying. Basically, it’s a kind of propaganda — a useful kind of nonsense that’s used to fool one’s enemies — but which one should never actually believe in. The famous military leader, Lord Jiang, who advised the first king of the Zhou dynasty, expressed it like this: A wise man does not personally follow such things, though fools preoccupy themselves with them.

When Zhou Wu, who was to become the first King of Zhou, launched his attack on the tyrant king of the Shang dynasty, his troops were deployed for battle at Gongtou Mountain in Sishui. The weather that day was foul, with wild winds, torrential downpours, and thunder and lightning. The wind ripped the troops’ battle flags and drums to shreds, and as Zhou Wu stood on his war chariot, his bodyguards were scared stupid.

Faced with this situation, Lord Jiang said: "In war, it is not necessarily always auspicious to conform with Heaven and the Dao, and likewise it is not always inauspicious to turn against them. However, if you lose control of events and of people, your whole army will be destroyed and you will be lost. As for ghosts and gods, Heaven and the Dao, these are things that cannot be seen, cannot be heard. Therefore, a wise man does not concern himself with such things, while fools allow themselves to be constrained by them. Here, today, you have capable and worthy men. The time to make your move and gain victory is not determined by the auspiciousness of the date, but by the favourableness of events; not by readings of yarrow stalks, but by the auspiciousness of the actual situation. Do not wait and pray, and blessings will follow."

Immediately after Lord Jiang said this, he gave the order to attack. Zhou Wu, the king-to-be, protested: If we attack now we will be going against the god Taisui! The turtle shell readings are not propitious, the readings from the yarrow stalks are inauspicious, and the stars spell disaster! Please withdraw the troops.

Lord Jiang was infuriated, and said to Zhou Wu: In our time, the Shang king has executed the sage Bi Gan, imprisoned the sage Qizi, and rules the land with the evil minister Fei Lian. Why should we not overthrow him?

Lord Jiang then said that the yarrow stalks and turtle shells used in divination were nothing but dead, dry grass and mouldy old bones. He ordered one of his men to bring the stalks and shells to him, and had them burned. Then, he personally led his men into battle. Zhou Wu followed his lead, and on that day, their enemy — the Shang king — was destroyed.

In another example, Liu Yu, founder of the Song of the Southern dynasties, was advancing upon the city of Guanggu, having managed to surround the forces of the non-Chinese Murong people. He was about to give the order to attack when his generals decided to consult a calendar. They realized that it was an inauspicious day: ‘The day of moving toward destruction.’ Each of the generals in turn insisted in no uncertain terms that they could not make any moves. But, Liu Yu said to them: "Huh! Moving toward destruction … this is very auspicious! I will be moving towards their destruction!" Liu Yu did indeed take the city of Guanggu on that day.

There is a popular Chinese saying to express the idea of ‘when the time is right.’ It translates as: ‘When the Heavenly timing is good, when the land is favourable, and when the people are in harmony.’ Here, we have seen that ‘Heavenly timing’ is actually about people being in harmony — all people under heaven being in harmony, not just one’s own people.

For military men, the concept of ‘Heaven’ is just military meteorology. It all boils down to things like reading the stars, the clouds and qi. Making divinations from yarrow stalks and burning turtle shells are just a part of propaganda. People who were in power, and who really controlled military situations, never actually believed in such superstitions.

WHEN ON THE MARCH, YOU MUST MOVE THROUGH UNINHABITED AREAS; THE ENEMY SHOULD BE ENGAGED IN FAVOURABLE TERRAIN

Extract from the original text:

Earth comprises distances, great and small; danger and security; open ground and narrow passes; the chances of life and death.

Analysis:

Cao Cao wrote in his commentary: "Here, Sun Tzu is speaking about the nine different kinds of terrain, and their favourableness in different seasons. For a discussion of this, refer to the chapter entitled The Nine Situations."

The Nine Situations is found near the end of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, and it contains a detailed analysis of the features and uses of nine distinct types of terrain. Hence, the discussion of terrain in this part of the book is rather brief.

Zhang Yu comments: "Whenever troops are to be used, it is valuable to first know the lay of the land. When you are familiar with the distances, you can use the stratagem of directness and indirectness. You can know whether to take a direct route or a meandering one. When you know how difficult or easy the terrain is to traverse, you know where foot soldiers and cavalry have unique advantages, and thus where to deploy them. When you know the locations of open ground and narrow passes, then you can gauge how many or how few soldiers you can use. You can know where to spread your troops out, and where a bottleneck can be defended by a single man. When you know the chances of death and life in various positions, then you can identify the positions that are amenable to fighting and to retreating." For example, if you deploy soldiers in a position where there is a high ‘chance of death,’ you know there will definitely be heavy fighting in this position. Conversely, if you deploy them in a position with a high ‘chance of life,’ it will be easy to retreat and disperse.

Of all the generals of the early People’s Liberation Army, the most capable was Su Yu. Among his admirers was Lin Biao, who said that Su was like a god of war, always descending upon his enemy from the sky. So, what were the bedrocks of Su’s battle craft? Two things: maps and marching. Using maps, he would learn battlefield terrain by heart, and apparently would use maps so heavily that they were worn down into scraps of paper.

Marching and moving one’s troops is a crucial part of fighting battles — perhaps even more important than directly engaging the enemy. People often think that a battle has only really started once guns are being fired, but in reality, by the time that’s happening the winner and loser have already been decided. And, crucially, they have been decided by troop movement: bringing soldiers into battle in the right place, at the right time, and with the right level of force.

This is known as ‘mobile warfare.’ So, when people say that Su Yu was the most capable PLA commander, what they’re really saying is that he was the most capable mover of troops. He invested more work and nuance than anyone else in studying and making use of terrain. During the Huaihai campaign of 1948-1949, Su Yu’s troops were constantly moving around the war zone. They followed the principles of moving only through places where there were no other people, and engaging the enemy only when he enjoyed the advantages of favourable terrain and superior firepower. Fighting in this way, Su Yu was able to split a single army unit into ten mobile strike forces. He was like a master butcher, blades dancing everywhere, appearing and disappearing at will, like a ghost, and descending upon the enemy as if from the sky.

Along with troop movement, camping is also an important part of fighting wars. Campsites must be chosen on the basis of one’s battle plan, and this is not only a matter of terrain but also of troop morale and battle effectiveness. Napoleon famously said that no matter how heavy the losses an army suffers in battle, it still does not have as negative an impact on the army as an unhygienic campsite.

We can now see that most of the work that determines a battle’s outcome has nothing to do with what we hear about in the epic stories and the songs. The important parts happen well before the two sides engage — by then, all that’s left to do is watch the pre-determined result unfold. Isn’t it the same in our day-today lives, in the world of work?

BE MINDFUL OF OTHER PEOPLE’S INTERESTS, AND MAKE SURE THEY KNOW

Extract from the original text:

The Commander stands for the virtues of wisdom, sincerity, benevolence, courage and strictness.

Analysis:

Here, Sun Tzu tells us the order of importance of different personality traits that ‘The Commander’ must possess. This is another case where his value system shows through — he put ‘wisdom’ in first place, whereas ‘courage’ is relegated to fourth. Sun Tzu emphasizes wisdom because he wants to win before committing to battle, or even without fighting at all, rather than strong-arming the enemy’s troops into submission by force. There is a Chinese four-character saying⁵ that translates as: ‘A man who is both wise and courageous.’ Yet, Sun Tzu has split these two virtues apart, and put ‘sincerity’ and ‘benevolence’ between them. What should we make of this?

First of all, what exactly is ‘wisdom’?

Du Mu wrote in his commentary: "The Dao of the ancient kings was predicated above all else upon benevolence. Meanwhile, among military commanders it is prevalent to prioritize the use of wisdom." With wisdom, a commander can identify shifts in political currents and be agile enough to react effectively.

Shen Baoxu, who was a senior official during the Warring States era (475-221 BCE), said: Without wisdom, one cannot have knowledge of the people’s limits, and one is unable to gauge the number of people in the world. Wisdom underpins the ability to understand the limits of one’s own strength, the balance of power and the overall situation in the world, as well as the ability to make accurate calculations and to adapt to changing circumstances on the battlefield.

That being said, it’s not quite as simple as putting wisdom, sincerity, benevolence, courage and strictness in order. None of these virtues can exist independently of each other; if you have one, you must have them all.

Now, let’s look at what our commentators have to say about this passage. Only three of them wrote about it.

Gu said: With wisdom alone, man becomes treacherous; if a man showers benevolence on all without discrimination, he becomes weak; if a man is obstinately sincere, then he is a fool; if man knows only courage and force, then he becomes brutal; if a man is too strict when he gives commands, then he becomes cruel. The only way to become a worthy Commander is to possess all five of these qualities and to use each only when appropriate.

Mei Yaochen said: With wisdom, a man can formulate plans; with sincerity, a man can hand out both rewards and punishments; with benevolence, a man can maintain closeness with the people; with courage, a man can make decisions resolutely; with strictness, a man can establish his power.

Wang Xi said: The wise man looks first, and feels no doubts, but is able to reflect, calculate, and fully understand changes in the currents of politics; the sincere man is consistent in what he says and in the orders he gives to subordinates; the benevolent man is devoted to compassion, and thus gains people’s hearts; the brave man defends what is right and has no fear, and is decisive and resolute; the strict man uses his prestige to rectify the hearts of the masses. These five qualities all need each other; not a single one may be lacking.

Next, what is ‘sincerity’?

Du Mu gives an accurate answer: Sincerity means making clear criteria for rewards and punishments so that everyone is extremely clear about what punishment they can expect for each kind of violation and what reward they can expect for each kind of meritorious deed.

For the kingdom of Qin, the first to rise above the other warring Chinese states and form an all-China empire, ‘sincerity’ was the key that unlocked the destruction of its six rival kingdoms. The Qin leaders’ sincerity was not directed toward its rivals, but toward the armies and common people of the Qin kingdom. Particularly noteworthy was the mechanism by which deserving subjects were granted titles within the nobility, which was completely tied to military merit. A good example is the old Chinese word shouji (首级): shou means ‘a person’s head,’ ji means ‘grade/rank,’ and together shouji means ‘a severed head.’ The word comes from the Qin convention of elevating a person by one grade within the hierarchy of nobility each time they cut off an enemy’s head! This was a way of implanting the codes of reward and punishment into the very language people spoke — a person’s head no longer just meant ‘a person’s head,’ but ‘one rank higher in the nobility.’ The people of Qin were brave and eager to be at the front of the charge — who wouldn’t be with such rewards waiting to be claimed?

When the pioneering Qin minister, Lord Shang Yang, instituted a series of reforms, the first thing he did was establish a reputation for sincerity. He did this by planting a wooden pole in the ground by the south gate of the capital city. He stuck a notice on the pole, which said that whoever took the pole and carried it to the north gate would be awarded ten taels of gold. No one actually believed the notice. So, a new notice was written, raising the award to 50 taels of gold! This was enough for someone to give it a try, and sure enough, the man got his 50 taels of gold. From then on, the people believed whatever the government said.

Sincerity — with it, the people’s hearts and muscles are at your disposal; without it, the people’s hearts and muscles are not yours to use.

There is another type of sincerity beyond just clear criteria for rewards and punishments, and that is ‘unspoken sincerity.’ Only kings and the highest-ranking generals have total power to set rewards and punishments, but lower-ranked commanders still need to be able to lead troops into battle. Addressing this need, the United States Military Academy (also known as ‘West Point,’) makes a specific demand of its students, and it’s about leadership skills: Bear in mind the interests of those under your command and be able to make them aware of it.

Sincerity is not just an administrative mechanism; more importantly, it is also a personal force that people can exert on others. Fundamental to this side of sincerity is the ability to include other people in your considerations. Without doing this, you cannot hope to truly have sincerity. The second most fundamental thing is the ability to make other people aware that they are a factor in our thinking. Otherwise, even if you are mindful of other people’s interests, they won’t know that and aren’t likely to stick around at your side for long.

Next on the list of five virtues is ‘benevolence.’

Du Mu comments: The benevolent man loves the people and cherishes objects, and knows what it is to work diligently.

Both ‘loving people’ and ‘cherishing objects’ are fundamentally important. Valuing public property is part of being benevolent, and vice versa: if you don’t place importance on resources, and instead use them wastefully, you cannot have ‘benevolence.’ For example, imagine you’re working overtime at the office. You’re the last to leave, but you don’t turn off your computer or the air conditioning, and you even forget to hit the light switch on your way out — this behaviour means that you don’t have benevolence, because you don’t ‘cherish objects.’

In war, a benevolent general is one who loves his soldiers as though they were his own sons. In China, there is a famous story about the Warring States era (475-221 BCE) general, Wu Qi. It’s said that one of Wu Qi’s men had a problem with his feet, which had become covered with festering wounds that oozed puss. When Wu Qi saw this, he got down on the ground, pressed his mouth to the soldier’s feet and began to suck the puss out of his wounds. Later, the soldier’s mother heard what had happened, and she was so distressed that she began to wail and cry. Someone asked her why she was crying — after all, the great general had been so kind to her son. The mother replied, My husband was a soldier too, and he had the same problem with his feet. General Wu did the same thing for him as he did for my son, and my husband was so moved by the general that he ended up sacrificing himself in a battle. Now that it’s happened again, I’m certain my son’s going to give his life away, too!

Next: ‘courage.’

Du Mu comments: The brave general decisively orchestrates victory and forges ahead with momentum; he never hesitates, never yields an inch.

There is a four-character phrase in Chinese that translates directly as ‘fond of planning but lacking resolve,’ which military experts use to describe someone who is always plotting and planning, but can never quite come to a firm decision. Why do people have this problem? It is because they have no courage! This behaviour type is also common in the modern workplace: when you hear a colleague saying that a certain person can never seem to get things done, the basic problem with that person is a lack of courage, which causes them to be hesitant, slow and overly cautious. When someone behaves like this, it makes the people around them anxious.

Lack of courage in a general causes problems at two different stages of war. First, they’re incapable of making a clear decision; and second, when they finally do settle on a decision, they don’t have the resolve to execute it properly, and tend to flinch away from their work, ultimately backing themselves into a corner.

No matter what you’re setting out to achieve, it’s important to embrace the spirit of self-sacrifice and to be willing to look death in the face and wrestle life from its jaws. It’s worth mentioning here that although our stated aim in this book is to win first and fight later, there is no such thing as guaranteed success in this world. That’s why you need courage to actually get things done.

Finally, let’s look at ‘strictness.’

Du Mu comments: A strict general uses punishments and the prestige his name commands to maintain discipline among his forces.

Du Mu’s commentary shows why, since ancient times, whenever a famous general first assembles troops ahead of launching a campaign, he always finds a reason to kill someone. It’s a way to establish respect and fear. The ideal candidate for this kind of execution would be someone with high social status, perhaps a person who is trusted by the Emperor, and who considers themselves ‘untouchable’ because they feel safe, sheltered in the shadow of the emperor. For example, Sun Tzu personally killed two of the King of Wu’s favourite concubines, while the commander and author of one of the Seven Military Classics, Sima Rangju, killed the emperor’s trusted aide, Zhuang Gu. The reason these people end up getting killed every time there’s a war is that they didn’t read the history books! People who believed themselves safe in the shelter of their titanic protectors were the easiest victims whenever there was a new war or political reform, because their status meant they were highly visible in the public eye, and yet they had no practical value to the state. Killing them is a way to enhance your authority without incurring any real losses for the state.

There’s a life lesson here: no matter what you do, don’t seek shelter between the legs of giants, because as soon as another giant so much as pats your protector on the back, you’re liable to get squashed underfoot. You may think that you’re as important as an extension of the emperor’s body, but you’re not. As soon as the next political storm breaks, you’ll be blown away like a speck of dust, or worse, your protector will be toppled and you’ll be buried alive. This is one of the reasons why people of acumen follow the Confucian teaching of ‘walking the middle path’ — they rely not on a protector but on their own independent personhood, their own value. They know their own value. They take care of themselves, make their own way in the world, are self-disciplined, follow the law, and do not overstep any boundaries. Only small-minded people seek out a protector, and their lives can never amount to much.

————

We’ve now talked about ‘wisdom, sincerity, benevolence, courage and strictness.’ It’s easy enough to talk about these virtues, but another matter entirely to put them into practice. So, how is it done?

In the waning years of China’s last empire, a Qing dynasty scholar and politician named Zeng Guofan was tasked with leading an army. He was a bookish man, and every day he would page through Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. He measured himself against the standards of the five virtues, and it was clear that he didn’t have any wisdom. After all, he’d never even fought in a battle before! He could, at a stretch, claim to have sincerity and benevolence. As for courage, although he wasn’t especially scared of dying, a lifetime devoted to scholarship had left him physically weak. His wrists were so limp, he didn’t even have the arm strength to wring a chicken’s neck! So, he could have had all the courage in the world, but he would never be warlike or fierce. The one virtue he really put into practice was ‘strictness.’ The world around him had been in a state of chaos for his whole life, and he had a decades-long list of people who deserved to die. As far as he was concerned, the greatest act of benevolence for the people would be to strew the country with evil men’s corpses; then, benevolence and righteousness will once more return to the world. In the end, he became known as ‘Zeng the scalp-shaver.’

So, how did Zeng compensate for his lack of wisdom and courage? As far as he could see, there was no getting around the fact that he was basically inadequate, and the officers under his command were even worse — they were just a motley bunch of peasants. His solution was to come up with two new virtues: ‘incorruptibility’ and ‘clarity.’

Zeng’s reasoning for increasing the five virtues to seven was this: ordinary soldiers are not qualified to demand that their leaders be wise, resourceful battle commanders; however, every person alive has a keen sense of their own interests, and soldiers are very aware of whether their leaders are clean in the way they handle money and fair in who they select for promotions. As a commander, to earn the respect of your men you cannot be greedy with money. Having ‘incorruptibility’ means that you are transparent and always above board in the way you manage the accounts, and this is essential to gaining your subordinates’ trust. When corruption is rampant in an army, there’s no way that army is going to be able to fight. If you want your subordinates to trust and follow you, you should be stingy with yourself, but at the same time make sure that you regularly give out small rewards of money to your men, so that everyone is getting a piece of the pie.

Having ‘clarity’ means that you keep careful notes about each of your subordinates’ performance. You need to know who is always at the front of the charge, who is always close behind and ready to assist, who is always willing to risk their life and stand their ground, and who is always trying to stay out of danger. When you’re not fighting, you should also closely watch who’s hardworking and who’s lazy. If you do this, you can give out the correct rewards and punishment, at the right time and in the right way.

As a commander, the question of whether you should be at the head of the charge is actually not very important, because you will often need to be directing proceedings from the rear. It’s not even of primary importance to come up with ingenious plans and command every detail of what’s happening on the battlefield. What’s really important is to fairly distribute resources and have a clear idea of who is making a good example of themselves through excellent service, so you can achieve the correct balance between rewards and punishments. If you can do this, your men will be relaxed. When soldiers are relaxed, bravery comes easily, and they will be willing to lay down their lives for you.

The lesson here is that, as a leader, you