Another look at a literary classic

SUN TZU’S The Art of War (514 BC) emerged from a tumultuous period in China’s history.

William Jenner describes “a world of absolute insecurity, in which any state might be attacked, [and] faced with absolute threats, states had to be mobilised for their human and material resources for total war.” From this chaos Tzu surfaced as a military strategist who scored a string of victories serving King Hel? of the Wu Dynasty.

The prolegomena sets the right tone with a helpful contextual framing of Tzu’s work. Confucianism and Taoism between the sixth century and the late third century BC countered the perceived pugilism of Tzu’s masterpiece as philosophers vied for the soul of a fractured China. Still, for all its emphasis on ethics, self-reflection and community, followers of Confucius and later, Mencius, were not totally dismissive of Tzu, acknowledging the inevitability of war in special circumstances where the cause was justifiable and the ruler enjoyed the support of his people.

Although Confucianism surfaced as the official ideology of the state until the rise of nationalism in 1914, Tzu’s stature as a thinker was never in question and his popularity exploded beyond China’s boundaries enjoying acceptance at a personal and institutional level.

Tzu is the consummate philosopher.

At the outset he lays bare the gravity of war. “It is a place of life and death, [and] a road of survival and extinction.” More importantly, he lists these five fundamentals for a successful outcome: The Way, Heaven, Earth, Command, and Discipline.

While Command and Discipline are self-explanatory, the other principles should be explained if only because they lend metaphysical depth to a teaching that is oftentimes misconstrued as purely mundane.

Of The Way, Tzu writes, “[It] causes men to be one mind with their leaders; to live or die with them; and never to waver.” Heaven, he defines as ‘Yin and Yang, cold and hot, [and] the cycle of seasons. And Earth, he describes as height and depth, distance and proximity, ease and danger, open and confined ground, life and death.” Divided into 13 segments, some of which are daringly titled, such as: Waging of War; Strategic Offense; Attack by Fire; and Espionage, key tenets are underscored.

We are continually reminded of holding fast to wisdom, integrity, compassion, courage, and severity.

Despite the brutality of war, a measured disposition is advised where aggression is tempered by compassion.

That Tzu viewed “the way of war” [as one] of deception should be lauded and not condemned as contributory to a closed and hardly definable Chinese society. While some commentators have noted that Tzu might have inadvertently created a cult of the cunning and a refuge for the duplicitous, literary evidence to the contrary abound.

Tzu’s guile is not self-serving.

It values human life. “Strike with chaos,” he writes, but there is an underlying tenor of disabling the enemy without a protracted carnage.

“When near, appear far; lure with bait; if he is weak, stir him to pride; if his men are harmonious, split them; appear where you are unexpected. Defeat belongs to the side that scores least in the temple of calculations.” And for those bent on advancing the “duplicity theory” the following quotes should give pause: “Treat prisoners of war kindly and care for them, [but] ultimate excellence lies not in winning every battle but in defeating the enemy without ever fighting.” And the most mystifying and compelling, “The warrior skilled in indirect warfare is infinite as Heaven and Earth, inexhaustible as river and sea. He ends and begins again, like sun and moon, dies and is born again like the Four Seasons.” Tzu’s philosophy is rooted in self-actualisation. It speaks to unfathomable potential of human creativity where the heart, mind and body coexist as a singular mode of expression.

Curiously, Tzu seemingly delivers a prophetic warning to our world. “The lowest form of war is to attack cities,” he writes.

Readers cannot help but add to the interpretative value of this literary monument.

The Art of War is inextricably bound to the Tao or the Way, the Chinese guide to self-awareness and right living. It’s an internal art sometimes incomprehensible by mere observation. Balance and harmony are achievable when we are in sync with the rhythm of the cosmos. As replicas of the universe we are warned against overreaching, against offsetting the cosmic flow. In essence, Tzu is waging an internal war, a war against impulse. We are asked to resolve inner conflicts, temper sensibilities and seek counsel from our higher self. This is Tzu’s signature response to the primalism of war.

Clearly, he speaks to us on an intimate level. To view otherwise is to devalue an ancient text that continues to tax our wits.

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com or follow him on Twitter@ glenvilleashby The Art of War by Sun Tzu Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd, UK Available at Amazon Ratings: Essential