by Sunzi
On desperate ground, I would proclaim to my soldiers the hopelessness of saving their lives.
Tu Yu says: “Burn your baggage and impedimenta, throw away your stores and provisions, choke up the wells, destroy your cooking-stoves, and make it plain to your men that they cannot survive, but must fight to the death.” Mei Yao-ch’ên says epigrammatically: “The only chance of life lies in giving up all hope of it.” This concludes what Sun Tzu has to say about “grounds” and the “variations” responding to them.
Reviewing the passages which bear on this important subject, we cannot fail to be struck by the desultory and unmethodical fashion in which it is treated. Sun Tzu begins abruptly in chapter VIII, paragraph 2, to enumerate “variations” before touching on “grounds” at all, but only mentions five, namely nos. 5, 7, 8 and 9 of the subsequent list, and one that is not included in it. A few varieties of ground are dealt with in the earlier portion of chapter IX, and then chapter X sets forth six new grounds, with six variations of plan to match. None of these is mentioned again [until] at last, in chapter XI, we come to the Nine Grounds par excellence, immediately followed by the variations… .
Though it is impossible to account for the present state of Sun Tzu’s text, a few suggestive facts may be brought into prominence: (1) chapter VIII, according to the title, should deal with nine variations, whereas only five appear. (2) It is an abnormally short chapter. (3) Chapter XI is entitled The Nine Grounds. Several of these are defined twice over, besides which there are two distinct lists of the corresponding variations. (4) The length of the chapter is disproportionate, being double that of any other except IX. I do not propose to draw any inferences from these facts, beyond the general conclusion that Sun Tzu’s work cannot have come down to us in the shape in which it left his hands: chapter VIII is obviously defective and probably out of place, while XI seems to contain matter that has either been added by a later hand or ought to appear elsewhere.
51. For it is the soldier’s disposition to offer an obstinate resistance when surrounded, to fight hard when he cannot help himself, and to obey promptly when he has fallen into danger.
[Chang Yü] alludes to the conduct of Pan Ch’ao’s devoted followers in 73 A.D.: “When Pan Ch’ao arrived at Shan-shan, Kuang, the King of the country, received him at first with great politeness and respect; but shortly afterwards his behaviour underwent a sudden change, and he became remiss and negligent. Pan Ch’ao spoke about this to the officers of his suite: ‘Have you not noticed,’ he said, ‘that Kuang’s polite intentions are on the wane? This must signify that envoys have come from the Northern barbarians, and that consequently he is in a state of indecision, not knowing with which side to throw in his lot. That surely is the reason. The truly wise man, we are told, can perceive things before they have come to pass; how much more, then, those that are already manifest!’ Thereupon he called one of the natives who had been assigned to his service, and set a trap for him, saying: ‘Where are those envoys from the Hsiung-nu who arrived some days ago?’
“The man was so taken aback that between surprise and fear he presently blurted out the whole truth. Pan Ch’ao, keeping his informant carefully under lock and key, then summoned a general gathering of his officers, thirty-six in all, and began drinking with them. When the wine had mounted into their heads a little, he tried to rouse their spirit still further by addressing them thus: ‘Gentlemen, here we are in the heart of an isolated region, anxious to achieve riches and honour by some great exploit. Now it happens that an ambassador from the Hsiung-nu arrived in this kingdom only a few days ago, and the result is that the respectful courtesy extended towards us by our royal host has disappeared. Should this envoy prevail upon him to seize our party and hand us over to the Hsiung-nu, our bones will become food for the wolves of the desert. What are we to do?’ With one accord, the officers replied, ‘Standing as we do in peril of our lives, we will follow our commander through life and death.’ ” For the sequel of this adventure, see chapter XII, paragraph 1, note.
52. We cannot enter into alliance with neighbouring princes until we are acquainted with their designs. We are not fit to lead an army on the march unless we are familiar with the face of the country—its mountains and forests, its pitfalls and precipices, its marshes and swamps. We shall be unable to turn natural advantages to account unless we make use of local guides.
These sentences are repeated from chapter VII, paragraphs 12-14—in order to emphasise their importance, the commentators seem to think. I prefer to regard them as interpolated here in order to form an antecedent to the following words. With regard to local guides, Sun Tzu might have added that there is always the risk of going wrong, either through their treachery or some misunderstanding … : Hannibal, we are told, ordered a guide to lead him into the neighbourhood of Casinum, where there was an important pass to be occupied; but his Car-thaginian accent, unsuited to the pronunciation of Latin names, caused the guide to understand Casilinum instead of Casinum, and turning from his proper route, he took the army in that direction, the mistake not being discovered until they had almost arrived.
This mistake almost cost Hannibal his army: The troops were hemmed in by the mountains on either side of the route to Casilinum. The Roman commander, Fabius, figured he had Hannibal trapped. But in one of military history’s greatest ruses, Hannibal, in a tactic similar to what T’ien Tan had used in China some sixty years earlier, took advantage of the cover of night, disguised cattle with fire to surprise and terrify his enemy, and escaped. See the note for chapter IX, paragraph 24. DG
53. To be ignorant of any one of the following four or five principles does not befit a warlike prince.
“One who rules by force,” was a term specially used for those princes who established their hegemony over other feudal states. The famous “warlike princes” of the 7th century B.C. were (1) Duke Huan of Ch’i, (2) Duke Wên of Chin, (3) Duke Hsiang of Sung, (4) Prince Chuang of Ch’u, and (5) Duke Mu of Ch’in. Their reigns covered the period 685-591 B.C.
54. When a warlike prince attacks a powerful state, his generalship shows itself in preventing the concentration of the enemy’s forces. He overawes his opponents, and their allies are prevented from joining against him.
Mei Yao-ch’ên constructs one of the chains of reasoning that are so much affected by the Chinese: “In attacking a powerful state, if you can divide her forces, you will have a superiority in strength; if you have a superiority in strength, you will overawe the enemy; if you overawe the enemy, the neighbouring states will be frightened; and if the neighbouring states are frightened, the enemy’s allies will be prevented from joining her.” …
Ch’ên Hao and Chang Yü take the sentence in quite another way. The former says: “Powerful though a prince may be, if he attacks a large state, he will be unable to raise enough troops, and must rely to some extent on external aid; if he dispenses with this, and with overweening confidence in his own strength, simply tries to intimidate the enemy, he will surely be defeated.” Chang Yü puts his view thus: “If we recklessly attack a large state, our own people will be discontented and hang back. But if (as will then be the case) our display of military force is inferior by half to that of the enemy, the other chieftains will take fright and refuse to join us.”
In seizing a state, the usurper ought to examine closely into all those injuries which it is necessary for him to inflict, and to do them all at one stroke, so as not to have to repeat them daily. Thus, by not unsettling men, he will be able to reassure them, and win them to himself by benefits. He who does otherwise, either from timidity or evil advice, is always compelled to keep the knife in his hand.
Noccolò Machiavelli, The Prince (1532)
55. Hence he does not strive to ally himself with all and sundry, nor does he foster the power of other states. He carries out his own secret designs, keeping his antagonists in awe.
The train of thought [according to Li Ch’üan] appears to be this: Secure against a combination of his enemies, “he
can afford to reject entangling alliances and simply pursue his own secret designs, his prestige enabling him to dispense with external friendships.”
Thus he is able to capture their cities and overthrow their kingdoms.
This paragraph, though written many years before the Ch’in State became a serious menace, is not a bad summary of the policy by which the famous Six Chancellors gradually paved the way for her final triumph under Shih Huang Ti. Chang Yü, following up his previous note, thinks that Sun Tzu is condemning this attitude of cold-blooded selfishness and haughty isolation. He again refers to the warlike prince once more, thus making it appear that in the end he is bound to succumb.
56. Bestow rewards without regard to rule,
Wu Tzu less wisely says: “Let advance be richly rewarded and retreat be heavily punished.”
issue orders without regard to previous arrangements;
“In order to prevent treachery,” says Wang Hsi. The general meaning is made clear by Ts’ao Kung’s quotations from the Ssu-ma Fa [a military treatise thought to be from the 6th century B.C.]: “Give instructions only on sighting the enemy; give rewards only when you see deserving deeds.” … Ts’ao Kung’s paraphrase I take to mean: “The final instructions you give to your army should not correspond with those that have been previously posted up.” Chang Yü simplifies this into “your arrangements should not be divulged beforehand.” And Chia Lin says: “There should be no fixity in your rules and arrangements.” Not only is there danger in letting your plans be known, but war often necessitates the entire reversal of them at the last moment.
and you will be able to handle a whole army as though you had to do with but a single man.
57. Confront your soldiers with the deed itself; never let them know your design.
Literally, “do not tell them words”; i.e., do not give your reasons for any order. Lord Mansfield once told a junior colleague to “give no reasons” for his decisions, and the maxim is even more applicable to a general than to a judge. Capt. Calthrop translates this sentence with beautiful simplicity: “Orders should direct the soldiers.” That is all.
William Murray, first Earl of Mansfield (1705-1793) was a British chief justice known for his unpopular prosecutions of rebel Irish lords and certain libel cases, which led to the burning of his home during the Gordon Riots. DG
When the outlook is bright, bring it before their eyes; but tell them nothing when the situation is gloomy.
58. Place your army in deadly peril, and it will survive; plunge it into desperate straits, and it will come off in safety.
These words of Sun Tzu were once quoted by Han Hsin in explanation of the tactics he employed in one of his most brilliant battles… . In 204 B.C., he was sent against the army of Chao, and halted ten miles from the mouth of the Ching-hsing pass, where the enemy had mustered in full force. Here, at midnight, he detached a body of 2000 light cavalry, every man of which was furnished with a red flag. Their instructions were to make their way through narrow defiles and keep a secret watch on the enemy. “When the men of Chao see me in full flight,” Han Hsin said, “they will abandon their fortifications and give chase. This must be the sign for you to rush in, pluck down the Chao standards and set up the red banners of Han in their stead.”
Turning then to his other officers, he remarked: “Our adversary holds a strong position, and is not likely to come out and attack us until he sees the standard and drums of the commander-in-chief, for fear I should turn back and escape through the mountains.” So saying, he first of all sent out a division consisting of 10,000 men, and ordered them to form in line of battle with their backs to the River Ti. Seeing this manœuvre, the whole army of Chao broke into loud laughter.
By this time it was broad daylight, and Han Hsin, displaying the generalissimo’s flag, marched out of the pass with drums beating, and was immediately engaged by the enemy. A great battle followed, lasting for some time; until at length Han Hsin and his colleague Chang Ni, leaving drums and banner on the field, fled to the division on the river bank, where another fierce battle was raging. The enemy rushed out to pursue them and to secure the trophies, thus denuding their ramparts of men; but the two generals succeeded in joining the other army, which was fighting with the utmost desperation. The time had now come for the 2000 horsemen to play their part.
As soon as they saw the men of Chao following up their advantage, they galloped behind the deserted walls, tore up the enemy’s flags and replaced them by those of Han. When the Chao army turned back from the pursuit, the sight of these red flags struck them with terror. Convinced that the Hans had got in and overpowered their king, they broke up in wild disorder, every effort of their leader to stay the panic being in vain. Then the Han army fell on them from both sides and completed the rout, killing a great number and capturing the rest, amongst whom was King Ya himself… .
After the battle, some of Han Hsin’s officers came to him and said: “In The Art of War, we are told to have a hill or tumulus on the right rear, and a river or marsh on the left front. [This appears to be a blend of Sun Tzu and T’ai Kung. See chapter IX, paragraph 9, and note.] You, on the contrary, ordered us to draw up our troops with the river at our back. Under these conditions, how did you manage to gain the victory?”
The general replied, “I fear you gentlemen have not studied The Art of War with sufficient care. Is it not written there: ‘Plunge your army into desperate straits and it will come off in safety; place it in deadly peril and it will survive’? Had I taken the usual course, I should never have been able to bring my colleagues round. What says the Military Classic?—‘Swoop down on the market-place and drive the men off to fight’ [This passage does not appear in the present text of The Art of War]. If I had not placed my troops in a position where they were obliged to fight for their lives, but had allowed each man to follow his own discretion, there would have been a general débandade, and it would have been impossible to do anything with them.” The officers admitted the force of his argument, and said, “These are higher tactics than we should have been capable of.”
59. For it is precisely when a force has fallen into harm’s way that it is capable of striking a blow for victory.
Danger has a bracing effect.
60. Success in warfare is gained by carefully accommodating ourselves to the enemy’s purpose.
Ts’ao Kung says: “Feign stupidity”—by an appearance of yielding and falling in with the enemy’s wishes. Chang Yü’s note makes the meaning clear: “If the enemy shows an inclination to advance, lure him on to do so; if he is anxious to retreat, delay on purpose that he may carry out his intention.” The object is to make him remiss and contemptuous before we deliver our attack.
61. By persistently hanging on the enemy’s flank, we shall succeed in the long run in killing the commander-in-chief.
[The last is] always a great point with the Chinese.
62. This is called ability to accomplish a thing by sheer cunning.
63. On the day that you take up your command, block the frontier passes, destroy the official tallies,
[The official tallies were] used at city-gates and on the frontier. They were tablets of bamboo or wood, one half of which was issued as a permit or passport by the official in charge of a gate. When this half was returned to him, within a fixed period, he was authorised to open the gate and let the traveller through.
Not unlike our passports and visas for visiting other countries today.
DG
and stop the passage of all emissaries.
Either to or from the enemy’s country.
64. Be stern in the council-chamber,
Show no weakness, and insist on your plans being ratified by the sovereign.
so that you may control the situation.
Mei Yao-ch’ên … understands the whole sentence to mean: Take the strictest precautions to ensure secrecy in your deliberations.
65. If the enemy leaves a door open, you must rush in.
66. Forestall y
our opponent by seizing what he holds dear, and subtly contrive to time his arrival on the ground.
Ch’ên Hao’s explanation … is clear enough: “If I manage to seize a favourable position, but the enemy does not appear on the scene, the advantage thus obtained cannot be turned to any practical account. He who intends, therefore, to occupy a position of importance to the enemy, must begin by making an artful appointment, so to speak, with his antagonist, and cajole him into going there as well.”
Mei Yao-ch’ên explains that this “artful appointment” is to be made through the medium of the enemy’s own spies, who will carry back just the amount of information that we choose to give them. Then, having cunningly disclosed our intentions, “we must manage, though starting after the enemy, to arrive before him” (chapter VII, paragraph 4). We must start after him in order to ensure his marching thither; we must arrive before him in order to capture the place without trouble.
67. Walk in the path defined by rule,
[The Chinese character] stands for “a marking-line,” hence a rule of conduct [following the rules of the philosopher Mencius]. Ts’ao Kung explains it by the similar metaphor “square and compasses.” The baldness of the sentiment rather inclines me to favour the reading adopted by Chia Lin, … which yields an exactly opposite sense, namely: “Discard hard and fast rules.”