1. Sun Tzŭ said: The control of a large force is the same principle as
the control of a few men: it is merely a question of dividing up their
numbers.
[That is, cutting up the army into regiments, companies, etc., with
subordinate officers in command of each. Tu Mu reminds us of Han Hsin’s
famous reply to the first Han Emperor, who once said to him: "How large
an army do you think I could lead?" "Not more than 100,000 men, your
Majesty." "And you?" asked the Emperor. "Oh!" he answered, "the more
the better."]
2. Fighting with a large army under your command is nowise different
from fighting with a small one: it is merely a question of instituting
signs and signals.
3. To ensure that your whole host may withstand the brunt of the
enemy’s attack and remain unshaken—this is effected by manœuvers direct
and indirect.
[We now come to one of the most interesting parts of Sun Tzŭ’s
treatise, the discussion of the _cheng_ and the _ch’i_." As it is by no
means easy to grasp the full significance of these two terms, or to
render them consistently by good English equivalents; it may be as well
to tabulate some of the commentators’ remarks on the subject before
proceeding further. Li Ch’uan: "Facing the enemy is _cheng_, making
lateral diversion is _ch’i_. Chia Lin: "In presence of the enemy, your
troops should be arrayed in normal fashion, but in order to secure
victory abnormal manœuvers must be employed." Mei Yao-ch’en: "_Ch’i_ is
active, _cheng_ is passive; passivity means waiting for an opportunity,
activity brings the victory itself." Ho Shih: "We must cause the enemy
to regard our straightforward attack as one that is secretly designed,
and vice versa; thus _cheng_ may also be _ch’i_, and _ch’i_ may also be
_cheng_." He instances the famous exploit of Han Hsin, who when
marching ostensibly against Lin-chin (now Chao-i in Shensi), suddenly
threw a large force across the Yellow River in wooden tubs, utterly
disconcerting his opponent. [Ch’ien Han Shu, ch. 3.] Here, we are told,
the march on Lin-chin was _cheng_, and the surprise manœuver was
_ch’i_." Chang Yu gives the following summary of opinions on the words:
"Military writers do not agree with regard to the meaning of _ch’i_ and
_cheng_. Wei Liao Tzŭ [4th cent. B.C.] says: ‘Direct warfare favours
frontal attacks, indirect warfare attacks from the rear.’ Ts’ao Kung
says: ‘Going straight out to join battle is a direct operation;
appearing on the enemy’s rear is an indirect manœuver.’ Li Wei-kung
[6th and 7th cent. A.D.] says: ‘In war, to march straight ahead is
_cheng_; turning movements, on the other hand, are _ch’i_.’ These
writers simply regard _cheng_ as _cheng_, and _ch’i_ as _ch’i_; they do
not note that the two are mutually interchangeable and run into each
other like the two sides of a circle [see infra, § 11]. A comment on
the T’ang Emperor T’ai Tsung goes to the root of the matter: ‘A _ch’i_
manœuver may be _cheng_, if we make the enemy look upon it as _cheng_;
then our real attack will be _ch’i_, and vice versa. The whole secret
lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real
intent.’" To put it perhaps a little more clearly: any attack or other
operation is _cheng_, on which the enemy has had his attention fixed;
whereas that is _ch’i_," which takes him by surprise or comes from an
unexpected quarter. If the enemy perceives a movement which is meant to
be _ch’i_," it immediately becomes _cheng_."]
4. That the impact of your army may be like a grindstone dashed against
an egg—this is effected by the science of weak points and strong.
5. In all fighting, the direct method may be used for joining battle,
but indirect methods will be needed in order to secure victory.
[Chang Yu says: "Steadily develop indirect tactics, either by pounding
the enemy’s flanks or falling on his rear." A brilliant example of
"indirect tactics" which decided the fortunes of a campaign was Lord
Roberts’ night march round the Peiwar Kotal in the second Afghan war.
[1]
6. Indirect tactics, efficiently applied, are inexhausible as Heaven
and Earth, unending as the flow of rivers and streams; like the sun and
moon, they end but to begin anew; like the four seasons, they pass away
but to return once more.
[Tu Yu and Chang Yu understand this of the permutations of _ch’i_ and
_cheng_. But at present Sun Tzŭ is not speaking of _cheng_ at all,
unless, indeed, we suppose with Cheng Yu-hsien that a clause relating
to it has fallen out of the text. Of course, as has already been
pointed out, the two are so inextricably interwoven in all military
operations, that they cannot really be considered apart. Here we simply
have an expression, in figurative language, of the almost infinite
resource of a great leader.]
7. There are not more than five musical notes, yet the combinations of
these five give rise to more melodies than can ever be heard.
8. There are not more than five primary colours (blue, yellow, red,
white, and black), yet in combination they produce more hues than can
ever be seen.
9 There are not more than five cardinal tastes (sour, acrid, salt,
sweet, bitter), yet combinations of them yield more flavours than can
ever be tasted.
10. In battle, there are not more than two methods of attack—the direct
and the indirect; yet these two in combination give rise to an endless
series of manœuvers.
11. The direct and the indirect lead on to each other in turn. It is
like moving in a circle—you never come to an end. Who can exhaust the
possibilities of their combination?
12. The onset of troops is like the rush of a torrent which will even
roll stones along in its course.
13. The quality of decision is like the well-timed swoop of a falcon
which enables it to strike and destroy its victim.
[The Chinese here is tricky and a certain key word in the context it is
used defies the best efforts of the translator. Tu Mu defines this word
as "the measurement or estimation of distance." But this meaning does
not quite fit the illustrative simile in §. 15. Applying this
definition to the falcon, it seems to me to denote that instinct of
_self-restraint_ which keeps the bird from swooping on its quarry until
the right moment, together with the power of judging when the right
moment has arrived. The analogous quality in soldiers is the highly
important one of being able to reserve their fire until the very
instant at which it will be most effective. When the "Victory" went
into action at Trafalgar at hardly more than drifting pace, she was for
several minutes exposed to a storm of shot and shell before replying
with a single gun. Nelson coolly waited until he was within close
range, when the broadside he brought to bear worked fearful havoc on
the enemy’s nearest ships.]
14. Therefore the good fighter will be terrible in his onset, and
prompt in his decision.
[The word "decision" would have reference to the measurement of
distance mentioned above, letting the enemy get near before striking.
But I cannot help thinking that Sun Tzŭ meant to use the word in a
figurative sense comparable to our own idiom "short and sharp." Cf.
Wang Hsi’s note, which after describing the falcon’s mode of attack,
proceeds: "This is just how the ‘psychological moment’ should be seized
in war."]
15. Energy may be likened to the bending of a crossbow; decision, to
the releasing of the trigger.
[None of the commentators seem to grasp the real point of the simile of
energy and the force stored up in the bent cross-bow until released by
the finger on the trigger.]
16. Amid the turmoil and tumult of battle, there may be seeming
disorder and yet no real disorder at all; amid confusion and chaos,
your array may be without head or tail, yet it will be proof against
defeat.
[Mei Yao-ch’en says: "The subdivisions of the army having been
previously fixed, and the various signals agreed upon, the separating
and joining, the dispersing and collecting which will take place in the
course of a battle, may give the appearance of disorder when no real
disorder is possible. Your formation may be without head or tail, your
dispositions all topsy-turvy, and yet a rout of your forces quite out
of the question."]
17. Simulated disorder postulates perfect discipline; simulated fear
postulates courage; simulated weakness postulates strength.
[In order to make the translation intelligible, it is necessary to tone
down the sharply paradoxical form of the original. Ts’ao Kung throws
out a hint of the meaning in his brief note: "These things all serve to
destroy formation and conceal one’s condition." But Tu Mu is the first
to put it quite plainly: "If you wish to feign confusion in order to
lure the enemy on, you must first have perfect discipline; if you wish
to display timidity in order to entrap the enemy, you must have extreme
courage; if you wish to parade your weakness in order to make the enemy
over-confident, you must have exceeding strength."]
18. Hiding order beneath the cloak of disorder is simply a question of
subdivision;
[See _supra_, § 1.]
concealing courage under a show of timidity presupposes a fund of
latent energy;
[The commentators strongly understand a certain Chinese word here
differently than anywhere else in this chapter. Thus Tu Mu says:
"seeing that we are favourably circumstanced and yet make no move, the
enemy will believe that we are really afraid."]
masking strength with weakness is to be effected by tactical
dispositions.
[Chang Yu relates the following anecdote of Kao Tsu, the first Han
Emperor: “Wishing to crush the Hsiung-nu, he sent out spies to report
on their condition. But the Hsiung-nu, forewarned, carefully concealed
all their able-bodied men and well-fed horses, and only allowed infirm
soldiers and emaciated cattle to be seen. The result was that spies one
and all recommended the Emperor to deliver his attack. Lou Ching alone
opposed them, saying: ‘When two countries go to war, they are naturally
inclined to make an ostentatious display of their strength. Yet our
spies have seen nothing but old age and infirmity. This is surely some
_ruse_ on the part of the enemy, and it would be unwise for us to
attack.’ The Emperor, however, disregarding this advice, fell into the
trap and found himself surrounded at Po-teng.”]
19. Thus one who is skilful at keeping the enemy on the move maintains
deceitful appearances, according to which the enemy will act.
[Ts’ao Kung’s note is "Make a display of weakness and want." Tu Mu
says: "If our force happens to be superior to the enemy’s, weakness may
be simulated in order to lure him on; but if inferior, he must be led
to believe that we are strong, in order that he may keep off. In fact,
all the enemy’s movements should be determined by the signs that we
choose to give him." Note the following anecdote of Sun Pin, a
descendent of Sun Wu: In 341 B.C., the Ch’i State being at war with
Wei, sent T’ien Chi and Sun Pin against the general P’ang Chuan, who
happened to be a deadly personal enemy of the later. Sun Pin said: "The
Ch’i State has a reputation for cowardice, and therefore our adversary
despises us. Let us turn this circumstance to account." Accordingly,
when the army had crossed the border into Wei territory, he gave orders
to show 100,000 fires on the first night, 50,000 on the next, and the
night after only 20,000. P’ang Chuan pursued them hotly, saying to
himself: "I knew these men of Ch’i were cowards: their numbers have
already fallen away by more than half." In his retreat, Sun Pin came to
a narrow defile, which he calculated that his pursuers would reach
after dark. Here he had a tree stripped of its bark, and inscribed upon
it the words: "Under this tree shall P’ang Chuan die." Then, as night
began to fall, he placed a strong body of archers in ambush near by,
with orders to shoot directly if they saw a light. Later on, P’ang
Chuan arrived at the spot, and noticing the tree, struck a light in
order to read what was written on it. His body was immediately riddled
by a volley of arrows, and his whole army thrown into confusion. [The
above is Tu Mu’s version of the story; the _Shih Chi_, less
dramatically but probably with more historical truth, makes P’ang Chuan
cut his own throat with an exclamation of despair, after the rout of
his army.] ]
He sacrifices something, that the enemy may snatch at it.
20. By holding out baits, he keeps him on the march; then with a body
of picked men he lies in wait for him.
[With an emendation suggested by Li Ching, this then reads, "He lies in
wait with the main body of his troops."]
21. The clever combatant looks to the effect of combined energy, and
does not require too much from individuals.
[Tu Mu says: "He first of all considers the power of his army in the
bulk; afterwards he takes individual talent into account, and uses each
men according to his capabilities. He does not demand perfection from
the untalented."]
Hence his ability to pick out the right men and utilise combined
energy.
22. When he utilises combined energy, his fighting men become as it
were like unto rolling logs or stones. For it is the nature of a log or
stone to remain motionless on level ground, and to move when on a
slope; if four-cornered, to come to a standstill, but if round-shaped,
to go rolling down.
[Ts’au Kung calls this "the use of natural or inherent power."]
23. Thus the energy developed by good fighting men is as the momentum
of a round stone rolled down a mountain thousands of feet in height. So
much on the subject of energy.
[The chief lesson of this chapter, in Tu Mu’s opinion, is the paramount
importance in war of rapid evolutions and sudden rushes. "Great
results," he adds, "can thus be achieved with small forces."]
[1] "Forty-one Years in India," chapter 46.