Sun Tzu

The teaching

Taught from the thirteen chapters of The Art of War.

The thirteen chapters

The book is one argument in thirteen short chapters: war is a matter of life and death for the state, to be studied before it is waged, and the best victory is the one won without fighting. The chapters, from the laying of plans to the use of spies, are taught one by one on the page of the Art of War, among the arts of power and influence. Here are the ideas that bind them into one teaching, in the book's own terms.

The seven reckonings

Before any war the ruler and his generals sit in the temple and reckon, comparing the two sides point by point. Which ruler has the Way, so that his people are of one mind with him? Which general has the greater ability? Which side holds the advantages of heaven and earth, of season and ground? On which side is discipline more strictly kept? Which army is stronger? Whose officers and soldiers are better trained? In which army are rewards and punishments given more surely? By these seven, the book says, victory and defeat can be foreseen.

The reckoning is the heart of the method. The general who makes many calculations in the temple wins, the one who makes few loses, and the one who makes none loses most surely. Victory in this teaching is won first in the count, and only then in the field.

Shi, the force of position

The book's word for what decides a battle is shi, the force that comes from position and timing. Rushing water that rolls stones along has shi; the falcon that strikes its prey at exactly the right distance has timing. The skilled commander looks for victory in the shi of the whole and does not demand it of single men, so he can choose his men and let the position do the rest.

So order and disorder are a matter of division and numbers, courage and fear a matter of shi, strength and weakness a matter of form. Feigned disorder needs perfect discipline, feigned fear needs courage, and feigned weakness needs strength: only a well-ordered army can afford to look disordered. The enemy acts on what he is shown; he is offered a bait and takes it, and is waited for with the main force.

Form and the formless

Xing is form, the visible disposition of an army, its numbers and its placing. The general shapes the enemy and stays shapeless himself. The height of skill in placing troops is to have no form at all; then the deepest spy cannot pry and the wisest cannot lay plans against it. When the enemy shows his form and one's own stays hidden, one's forces stay together while his are divided, for he must prepare everywhere, and whoever prepares everywhere is weak everywhere.

No victory is won twice in the same way. The book asks that tactics not be repeated but shaped anew by the endless variety of circumstance. Of the five elements none always prevails; of the four seasons none stays; the days are short and long, and the moon waxes and wanes. The one who can change with the enemy and so win may be called divine.

The ruler and the general

The book draws a firm line between the court and the camp. A ruler brings misfortune on his army in three ways: by ordering it to advance or retreat when it cannot, which hobbles it; by trying to govern an army as he governs a kingdom, which bewilders the soldiers; and by placing its officers without regard to the needs of war, which shakes their trust.

The general's duty runs to the state, not to his own name. If the reckoning shows that battle will be won, he fights even when the ruler forbids it; if it shows that battle will be lost, he does not fight even at the ruler's bidding. The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect the people and serve his ruler well, is the treasure of the state.