Chapter XI — THE NINE SITUATIONS

1. Sun Tzŭ said: The art of war recognises nine varieties of ground: (1)
Dispersive ground; (2) facile ground; (3) contentious ground; (4) open ground;
(5) ground of intersecting highways; (6) serious ground; (7) difficult ground;
(8) hemmed-in ground; (9) desperate ground.

2. When a chieftain is fighting in his own territory, it is dispersive ground.

[So called because the soldiers, being near to their homes and anxious to see
their wives and children, are likely to seize the opportunity afforded by a
battle and scatter in every direction. “In their advance,” observes Tu Mu,
“they will lack the valor of desperation, and when they retreat, they will find
harbors of refuge.”]

3. When he has penetrated into hostile territory, but to no great distance, it
is facile ground.

[Li Ch’uan and Ho Shih say “because of the facility for retreating,” and
the other commentators give similar explanations. Tu Mu remarks: “When your
army has crossed the border, you should burn your boats and bridges, in order
to make it clear to everybody that you have no hankering after home.”]

4. Ground the possession of which imports great advantage to either side, is
contentious ground.

[Tu Mu defines the ground as ground “to be contended for.” Ts’ao Kung
says: “ground on which the few and the weak can defeat the many and the
strong,” such as “the neck of a pass,” instanced by Li Ch’uan. Thus,
Thermopylae was of this classification because the possession of it, even for a
few days only, meant holding the entire invading army in check and thus gaining
invaluable time. Cf. Wu Tzŭ, ch. V. ad init.: “For those who have to fight in
the ratio of one to ten, there is nothing better than a narrow pass.” When Lu
Kuang was returning from his triumphant expedition to Turkestan in 385 A.D.,
and had got as far as I-ho, laden with spoils, Liang Hsi, administrator of
Liang-chou, taking advantage of the death of Fu Chien, King of Ch’in,
plotted against him and was for barring his way into the province. Yang Han,
governor of Kao-ch’ang, counseled him, saying: “Lu Kuang is fresh from
his victories in the west, and his soldiers are vigorous and mettlesome. If we
oppose him in the shifting sands of the desert, we shall be no match for him,
and we must therefore try a different plan. Let us hasten to occupy the defile
at the mouth of the Kao-wu pass, thus cutting him off from supplies of water,
and when his troops are prostrated with thirst, we can dictate our own terms
without moving. Or if you think that the pass I mention is too far off, we
could make a stand against him at the I-wu pass, which is nearer. The cunning
and resource of Tzŭ-fang himself would be expended in vain against the enormous
strength of these two positions.” Liang Hsi, refusing to act on this advice,
was overwhelmed and swept away by the invader.]

5. Ground on which each side has liberty of movement is open ground.

[There are various interpretations of the Chinese adjective for this type of
ground. Ts’ao Kung says it means “ground covered with a network of
roads,” like a chessboard. Ho Shih suggested: “ground on which
intercommunication is easy.”]

6. Ground which forms the key to three contiguous states,

[Ts’au Kung defines this as: “Our country adjoining the enemy’s and a
third country conterminous with both.” Meng Shih instances the small
principality of Cheng, which was bounded on the north-east by Ch’i, on
the west by Chin, and on the south by Ch’u.]

so that he who occupies it first has most of the Empire at his command,

[The belligerent who holds this dominating position can constrain most of them
to become his allies.]

is ground of intersecting highways.

7. When an army has penetrated into the heart of a hostile country, leaving a
number of fortified cities in its rear, it is serious ground.

[Wang Hsi explains the name by saying that “when an army has reached such a
point, its situation is serious.”]

8. Mountain forests,

[Or simply “forests.”]

rugged steeps, marshes and fens—all country that is hard to traverse:
this is difficult ground.

9. Ground which is reached through narrow gorges, and from which we can only
retire by tortuous paths, so that a small number of the enemy would suffice to
crush a large body of our men: this is hemmed in ground.

10. Ground on which we can only be saved from destruction by fighting without
delay, is desperate ground.

[The situation, as pictured by Ts’ao Kung, is very similar to the
“hemmed-in ground” except that here escape is no longer possible: “A lofty
mountain in front, a large river behind, advance impossible, retreat blocked.”
Ch’en Hao says: “to be on ‘desperate ground’ is like sitting in a leaking
boat or crouching in a burning house.” Tu Mu quotes from Li Ching a vivid
description of the plight of an army thus entrapped: “Suppose an army invading
hostile territory without the aid of local guides:—it falls into a fatal
snare and is at the enemy’s mercy. A ravine on the left, a mountain on the
right, a pathway so perilous that the horses have to be roped together and the
chariots carried in slings, no passage open in front, retreat cut off behind,
no choice but to proceed in single file. Then, before there is time to range
our soldiers in order of battle, the enemy is overwhelming strength suddenly
appears on the scene. Advancing, we can nowhere take a breathing-space;
retreating, we have no haven of refuge. We seek a pitched battle, but in vain;
yet standing on the defensive, none of us has a moment’s respite. If we simply
maintain our ground, whole days and months will crawl by; the moment we make a
move, we have to sustain the enemy’s attacks on front and rear. The country is
wild, destitute of water and plants; the army is lacking in the necessaries of
life, the horses are jaded and the men worn-out, all the resources of strength
and skill unavailing, the pass so narrow that a single man defending it can
check the onset of ten thousand; all means of offense in the hands of the
enemy, all points of vantage already forfeited by ourselves:—in this
terrible plight, even though we had the most valiant soldiers and the keenest
of weapons, how could they be employed with the slightest effect?” Students of
Greek history may be reminded of the awful close to the Sicilian expedition,
and the agony of the Athenians under Nicias and Demonsthenes. [See Thucydides,
VII. 78 sqq.].]

11. On dispersive ground, therefore, fight not. On facile ground, halt not. On
contentious ground, attack not.

[But rather let all your energies be bent on occupying the advantageous
position first. So Ts’ao Kung. Li Ch’uan and others, however,
suppose the meaning to be that the enemy has already forestalled us, sot that
it would be sheer madness to attack. In the Sun Tzŭ Hsu Lu, when the King of Wu
inquires what should be done in this case, Sun Tzŭ replies: “The rule with
regard to contentious ground is that those in possession have the advantage
over the other side. If a position of this kind is secured first by the enemy,
beware of attacking him. Lure him away by pretending to flee—show your
banners and sound your drums—make a dash for other places that he cannot
afford to lose—trail brushwood and raise a dust—confound his ears
and eyes—detach a body of your best troops, and place it secretly in
ambuscade. Then your opponent will sally forth to the rescue.”]

12. On open ground, do not try to block the enemy’s way.

[Because the attempt would be futile, and would expose the blocking force
itself to serious risks. There are two interpretations available here. I follow
that of Chang Yu. The other is indicated in Ts’ao Kung’s brief note:
“Draw closer together”—i.e., see that a portion of your own army is not
cut off.]

On ground of intersecting highways, join hands with your allies.

[Or perhaps, “form alliances with neighbouring states.”]

13. On serious ground, gather in plunder.

[On this, Li Ch’uan has the following delicious note: “When an army
penetrates far into the enemy’s country, care must be taken not to alienate the
people by unjust treatment. Follow the example of the Han Emperor Kao Tsu,
whose march into Ch’in territory was marked by no violation of women or
looting of valuables. [Nota bene: this was in 207 B.C., and may well cause us
to blush for the Christian armies that entered Peking in 1900 A.D.] Thus he won
the hearts of all. In the present passage, then, I think that the true reading
must be, not ‘plunder,’ but ‘do not plunder.’” Alas, I fear that in this
instance the worthy commentator’s feelings outran his judgment. Tu Mu, at
least, has no such illusions. He says: “When encamped on ‘serious ground,’
there being no inducement as yet to advance further, and no possibility of
retreat, one ought to take measures for a protracted resistance by bringing in
provisions from all sides, and keep a close watch on the enemy.”]

In difficult ground, keep steadily on the march.

[Or, in the words of VIII. § 2, “do not encamp.]

14. On hemmed-in ground, resort to stratagem.

[Ts’au Kung says: “Try the effect of some unusual artifice;” and Tu Yu
amplifies this by saying: “In such a position, some scheme must be devised
which will suit the circumstances, and if we can succeed in deluding the enemy,
the peril may be escaped.” This is exactly what happened on the famous occasion
when Hannibal was hemmed in among the mountains on the road to Casilinum, and
to all appearances entrapped by the dictator Fabius. The stratagem which
Hannibal devised to baffle his foes was remarkably like that which T’ien
Tan had also employed with success exactly 62 years before. [See IX. § 24,
note.] When night came on, bundles of twigs were fastened to the horns of some
2000 oxen and set on fire, the terrified animals being then quickly driven
along the mountain side towards the passes which were beset by the enemy. The
strange spectacle of these rapidly moving lights so alarmed and discomfited the
Romans that they withdrew from their position, and Hannibal’s army passed
safely through the defile. [See Polybius, III. 93, 94; Livy, XXII. 16 17.]

On desperate ground, fight.

[For, as Chia Lin remarks: “if you fight with all your might, there is a chance
of life; where as death is certain if you cling to your corner.”]

15. Those who were called skilful leaders of old knew how to drive a wedge
between the enemy’s front and rear;

[More literally, “cause the front and rear to lose touch with each other.”]

to prevent co-operation between his large and small divisions; to hinder the
good troops from rescuing the bad, the officers from rallying their men.

16. When the enemy’s men were scattered, they prevented them from
concentrating; even when their forces were united, they managed to keep them in
disorder.

17. When it was to their advantage, they made a forward move; when otherwise,
they stopped still.

[Mei Yao-ch’en connects this with the foregoing: “Having succeeded in
thus dislocating the enemy, they would push forward in order to secure any
advantage to be gained; if there was no advantage to be gained, they would
remain where they were.”]

18. If asked how to cope with a great host of the enemy in orderly array and on
the point of marching to the attack, I should say: “Begin by seizing something
which your opponent holds dear; then he will be amenable to your will.”

[Opinions differ as to what Sun Tzŭ had in mind. Ts’ao Kung thinks it is
“some strategical advantage on which the enemy is depending.” Tu Mu says: “The
three things which an enemy is anxious to do, and on the accomplishment of
which his success depends, are: (1) to capture our favourable positions; (2) to
ravage our cultivated land; (3) to guard his own communications.” Our object
then must be to thwart his plans in these three directions and thus render him
helpless. [Cf. III. § 3.] By boldly seizing the initiative in this way, you at
once throw the other side on the defensive.]

19. Rapidity is the essence of war:

[According to Tu Mu, “this is a summary of leading principles in warfare,” and
he adds: “These are the profoundest truths of military science, and the chief
business of the general.” The following anecdotes, told by Ho Shih, shows the
importance attached to speed by two of China’s greatest generals. In 227 A.D.,
Meng Ta, governor of Hsin-ch’eng under the Wei Emperor Wen Ti, was
meditating defection to the House of Shu, and had entered into correspondence
with Chu-ko Liang, Prime Minister of that State. The Wei general Ssu-ma I was
then military governor of Wan, and getting wind of Meng Ta’s treachery, he at
once set off with an army to anticipate his revolt, having previously cajoled
him by a specious message of friendly import. Ssu-ma’s officers came to him and
said: “If Meng Ta has leagued himself with Wu and Shu, the matter should be
thoroughly investigated before we make a move.” Ssu-ma I replied: “Meng Ta is
an unprincipled man, and we ought to go and punish him at once, while he is
still wavering and before he has thrown off the mask.” Then, by a series of
forced marches, be brought his army under the walls of Hsin-ch’eng with
in a space of eight days. Now Meng Ta had previously said in a letter to Chu-ko
Liang: “Wan is 1200 li from here. When the news of my revolt reaches
Ssu-ma I, he will at once inform his imperial master, but it will be a whole
month before any steps can be taken, and by that time my city will be well
fortified. Besides, Ssu-ma I is sure not to come himself, and the generals that
will be sent against us are not worth troubling about.” The next letter,
however, was filled with consternation: “Though only eight days have passed
since I threw off my allegiance, an army is already at the city-gates. What
miraculous rapidity is this!” A fortnight later, Hsin- ch’eng had fallen
and Meng Ta had lost his head. [See Chin Shu, ch. 1, f. 3.] In 621 A.D., Li
Ching was sent from K’uei-chou in Ssu-ch’uan to reduce the
successful rebel Hsiao Hsien, who had set up as Emperor at the modern
Ching-chou Fu in Hupeh. It was autumn, and the Yangtsze being then in flood,
Hsiao Hsien never dreamt that his adversary would venture to come down through
the gorges, and consequently made no preparations. But Li Ching embarked his
army without loss of time, and was just about to start when the other generals
implored him to postpone his departure until the river was in a less dangerous
state for navigation. Li Ching replied: “To the soldier, overwhelming speed is
of paramount importance, and he must never miss opportunities. Now is the time
to strike, before Hsiao Hsien even knows that we have got an army together. If
we seize the present moment when the river is in flood, we shall appear before
his capital with startling suddenness, like the thunder which is heard before
you have time to stop your ears against it. [See VII. § 19, note.] This is the
great principle in war. Even if he gets to know of our approach, he will have
to levy his soldiers in such a hurry that they will not be fit to oppose us.
Thus the full fruits of victory will be ours.” All came about as he predicted,
and Hsiao Hsien was obliged to surrender, nobly stipulating that his people
should be spared and he alone suffer the penalty of death.]

take advantage of the enemy’s unreadiness, make your way by unexpected routes,
and attack unguarded spots.

20. The following are the principles to be observed by an invading force: The
further you penetrate into a country, the greater will be the solidarity of
your troops, and thus the defenders will not prevail against you.

21. Make forays in fertile country in order to supply your army with food.

[Cf. supra, § 13. Li Ch’uan does not venture on a note here.]

22. Carefully study the well-being of your men,

[For “well-being”, Wang Hsi means, “Pet them, humor them, give them plenty of
food and drink, and look after them generally.”]

and do not overtax them. Concentrate your energy and hoard your strength.

[Ch’en recalls the line of action adopted in 224 B.C. by the famous
general Wang Chien, whose military genius largely contributed to the success of
the First Emperor. He had invaded the Ch’u State, where a universal levy
was made to oppose him. But, being doubtful of the temper of his troops, he
declined all invitations to fight and remained strictly on the defensive. In
vain did the Ch’u general try to force a battle: day after day Wang Chien
kept inside his walls and would not come out, but devoted his whole time and
energy to winning the affection and confidence of his men. He took care that
they should be well fed, sharing his own meals with them, provided facilities
for bathing, and employed every method of judicious indulgence to weld them
into a loyal and homogenous body. After some time had elapsed, he told off
certain persons to find out how the men were amusing themselves. The answer
was, that they were contending with one another in putting the weight and
long-jumping. When Wang Chien heard that they were engaged in these athletic
pursuits, he knew that their spirits had been strung up to the required pitch
and that they were now ready for fighting. By this time the Ch’u army,
after repeating their challenge again and again, had marched away eastwards in
disgust. The Ch’in general immediately broke up his camp and followed
them, and in the battle that ensued they were routed with great slaughter.
Shortly afterwards, the whole of Ch’u was conquered by Ch’in, and
the king Fu-ch’u led into captivity.]

Keep your army continually on the move,

[In order that the enemy may never know exactly where you are. It has struck
me, however, that the true reading might be “link your army together.”]

and devise unfathomable plans.

23. Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will
prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not
achieve.

[Chang Yu quotes his favourite Wei Liao Tzŭ (ch. 3): “If one man were to run
amok with a sword in the market-place, and everybody else tried to get our of
his way, I should not allow that this man alone had courage and that all the
rest were contemptible cowards. The truth is, that a desperado and a man who
sets some value on his life do not meet on even terms.”]

Officers and men alike will put forth their uttermost strength.

[Chang Yu says: “If they are in an awkward place together, they will surely
exert their united strength to get out of it.”]

24. Soldiers when in desperate straits lose the sense of fear. If there is no
place of refuge, they will stand firm. If they are in the heart of a hostile
country, they will show a stubborn front. If there is no help for it, they will
fight hard.

25. Thus, without waiting to be marshalled, the soldiers will be constantly on
the qui vive; without waiting to be asked, they will do your will;

[Literally, “without asking, you will get.”]

without restrictions, they will be faithful; without giving orders, they can be
trusted.

26. Prohibit the taking of omens, and do away with superstitious doubts. Then,
until death itself comes, no calamity need be feared.

[The superstitious, “bound in to saucy doubts and fears,” degenerate into
cowards and “die many times before their deaths.” Tu Mu quotes Huang Shih-kung:
“‘Spells and incantations should be strictly forbidden, and no officer allowed
to inquire by divination into the fortunes of an army, for fear the soldiers’
minds should be seriously perturbed.’ The meaning is,” he continues, “that if
all doubts and scruples are discarded, your men will never falter in their
resolution until they die.”]

27. If our soldiers are not overburdened with money, it is not because they
have a distaste for riches; if their lives are not unduly long, it is not
because they are disinclined to longevity.

[Chang Yu has the best note on this passage: “Wealth and long life are things
for which all men have a natural inclination. Hence, if they burn or fling away
valuables, and sacrifice their own lives, it is not that they dislike them, but
simply that they have no choice.” Sun Tzŭ is slyly insinuating that, as
soldiers are but human, it is for the general to see that temptations to shirk
fighting and grow rich are not thrown in their way.]

28. On the day they are ordered out to battle, your soldiers may weep,

[The word in the Chinese is “snivel.” This is taken to indicate more genuine
grief than tears alone.]

those sitting up bedewing their garments, and those lying down letting the
tears run down their cheeks.

[Not because they are afraid, but because, as Ts’ao Kung says, “all have
embraced the firm resolution to do or die.” We may remember that the heroes of
the Iliad were equally childlike in showing their emotion. Chang Yu alludes to
the mournful parting at the I River between Ching K’o and his friends,
when the former was sent to attempt the life of the King of Ch’in
(afterwards First Emperor) in 227 B.C. The tears of all flowed down like rain
as he bade them farewell and uttered the following lines: “The shrill blast is
blowing, Chilly the burn; Your champion is going—Not to return.” [1] ]

But let them once be brought to bay, and they will display the courage of a Chu
or a Kuei.

[Chu was the personal name of Chuan Chu, a native of the Wu State and
contemporary with Sun Tzŭ himself, who was employed by Kung-tzu Kuang, better
known as Ho Lu Wang, to assassinate his sovereign Wang Liao with a dagger which
he secreted in the belly of a fish served up at a banquet. He succeeded in his
attempt, but was immediately hacked to pieces by the king’s bodyguard. This was
in 515 B.C. The other hero referred to, Ts’ao Kuei (or Ts’ao Mo),
performed the exploit which has made his name famous 166 years earlier, in 681
B.C. Lu had been thrice defeated by Ch’i, and was just about to conclude
a treaty surrendering a large slice of territory, when Ts’ao Kuei
suddenly seized Huan Kung, the Duke of Ch’i, as he stood on the altar
steps and held a dagger against his chest. None of the duke’s retainers dared
to move a muscle, and Ts’ao Kuei proceeded to demand full restitution,
declaring the Lu was being unjustly treated because she was a smaller and a
weaker state. Huan Kung, in peril of his life, was obliged to consent,
whereupon Ts’ao Kuei flung away his dagger and quietly resumed his place
amid the terrified assemblage without having so much as changed color. As was
to be expected, the Duke wanted afterwards to repudiate the bargain, but his
wise old counselor Kuan Chung pointed out to him the impolicy of breaking his
word, and the upshot was that this bold stroke regained for Lu the whole of
what she had lost in three pitched battles.]

29. The skilful tactician may be likened to the shuai-jan. Now the shuai-jan
is a snake that is found in the Ch‘ang mountains.

[“Shuai-jan” means “suddenly” or “rapidly,” and the snake in question was
doubtless so called owing to the rapidity of its movements. Through this
passage, the term in the Chinese has now come to be used in the sense of
“military manœuvers.”]

Strike at its head, and you will be attacked by its tail; strike at its tail,
and you will be attacked by its head; strike at its middle, and you will be
attacked by head and tail both.

30. Asked if an army can be made to imitate the shuai-jan,

[That is, as Mei Yao-ch’en says, “Is it possible to make the front and
rear of an army each swiftly responsive to attack on the other, just as though
they were part of a single living body?”]

I should answer, Yes. For the men of Wu and the men of Yüeh are enemies;

[Cf. VI. § 21.]

yet if they are crossing a river in the same boat and are caught by a storm,
they will come to each other’s assistance just as the left hand helps the
right.

[The meaning is: If two enemies will help each other in a time of common peril,
how much more should two parts of the same army, bound together as they are by
every tie of interest and fellow-feeling. Yet it is notorious that many a
campaign has been ruined through lack of cooperation, especially in the case of
allied armies.]

31. Hence it is not enough to put one’s trust in the tethering of horses, and
the burying of chariot wheels in the ground.

[These quaint devices to prevent one’s army from running away recall the
Athenian hero Sophanes, who carried the anchor with him at the battle of
Plataea, by means of which he fastened himself firmly to one spot. [See
Herodotus, IX. 74.] It is not enough, says Sun Tzŭ, to render flight impossible
by such mechanical means. You will not succeed unless your men have tenacity
and unity of purpose, and, above all, a spirit of sympathetic cooperation. This
is the lesson which can be learned from the shuai-jan.]

32. The principle on which to manage an army is to set up one standard of
courage which all must reach.

[Literally, “level the courage [of all] as though [it were that of] one.” If
the ideal army is to form a single organic whole, then it follows that the
resolution and spirit of its component parts must be of the same quality, or at
any rate must not fall below a certain standard. Wellington’s seemingly
ungrateful description of his army at Waterloo as “the worst he had ever
commanded” meant no more than that it was deficient in this important
particular—unity of spirit and courage. Had he not foreseen the Belgian
defections and carefully kept those troops in the background, he would almost
certainly have lost the day.]

33. How to make the best of both strong and weak—that is a question
involving the proper use of ground.

[Mei Yao-ch’en’s paraphrase is: “The way to eliminate the differences of
strong and weak and to make both serviceable is to utilize accidental features
of the ground.” Less reliable troops, if posted in strong positions, will hold
out as long as better troops on more exposed terrain. The advantage of position
neutralizes the inferiority in stamina and courage. Col. Henderson says: “With
all respect to the text books, and to the ordinary tactical teaching, I am
inclined to think that the study of ground is often overlooked, and that by no
means sufficient importance is attached to the selection of positions… and to
the immense advantages that are to be derived, whether you are defending or
attacking, from the proper utilization of natural features.” [2] ]

34. Thus the skilful general conducts his army just as though he were leading
a single man, willy-nilly, by the hand.

[Tu Mu says: “The simile has reference to the ease with which he does it.”]

35. It is the business of a general to be quiet and thus ensure secrecy;
upright and just, and thus maintain order.

36. He must be able to mystify his officers and men by false reports and
appearances,

[Literally, “to deceive their eyes and ears.”]

and thus keep them in total ignorance.

[Ts’ao Kung gives us one of his excellent apophthegms: “The troops must
not be allowed to share your schemes in the beginning; they may only rejoice
with you over their happy outcome.” “To mystify, mislead, and surprise the
enemy,” is one of the first principles in war, as had been frequently pointed
out. But how about the other process—the mystification of one’s own men?
Those who may think that Sun Tzŭ is over-emphatic on this point would do well
to read Col. Henderson’s remarks on Stonewall Jackson’s Valley campaign: “The
infinite pains,” he says, “with which Jackson sought to conceal, even from his
most trusted staff officers, his movements, his intentions, and his thoughts, a
commander less thorough would have pronounced useless”—etc. etc. [3] In
the year 88 A.D., as we read in ch. 47 of the Hou Han Shu, “Pan Ch’ao
took the field with 25,000 men from Khotan and other Central Asian states with
the object of crushing Yarkand. The King of Kutcha replied by dispatching his
chief commander to succour the place with an army drawn from the kingdoms of
Wen-su, Ku-mo, and Wei-t’ou, totaling 50,000 men. Pan Ch’ao
summoned his officers and also the King of Khotan to a council of war, and
said: ‘Our forces are now outnumbered and unable to make head against the
enemy. The best plan, then, is for us to separate and disperse, each in a
different direction. The King of Khotan will march away by the easterly route,
and I will then return myself towards the west. Let us wait until the evening
drum has sounded and then start.’ Pan Ch’ao now secretly released the
prisoners whom he had taken alive, and the King of Kutcha was thus informed of
his plans. Much elated by the news, the latter set off at once at the head of
10,000 horsemen to bar Pan Ch’ao’s retreat in the west, while the King of
Wen-su rode eastward with 8000 horse in order to intercept the King of Khotan.
As soon as Pan Ch’ao knew that the two chieftains had gone, he called his
divisions together, got them well in hand, and at cock-crow hurled them against
the army of Yarkand, as it lay encamped. The barbarians, panic-stricken, fled
in confusion, and were closely pursued by Pan Ch’ao. Over 5000 heads were
brought back as trophies, besides immense spoils in the shape of horses and
cattle and valuables of every description. Yarkand then capitulating, Kutcha
and the other kingdoms drew off their respective forces. From that time
forward, Pan Ch’ao’s prestige completely overawed the countries of the
west.” In this case, we see that the Chinese general not only kept his own
officers in ignorance of his real plans, but actually took the bold step of
dividing his army in order to deceive the enemy.]

37. By altering his arrangements and changing his plans,

[Wang Hsi thinks that this means not using the same stratagem twice.]

he keeps the enemy without definite knowledge.

[Chang Yu, in a quotation from another work, says: “The axiom, that war is
based on deception, does not apply only to deception of the enemy. You must
deceive even your own soldiers. Make them follow you, but without letting them
know why.”]

By shifting his camp and taking circuitous routes, he prevents the enemy from
anticipating his purpose.

38. At the critical moment, the leader of an army acts like one who has climbed
up a height and then kicks away the ladder behind him. He carries his men deep
into hostile territory before he shows his hand.

[Literally, “releases the spring” (see V. § 15), that is, takes some decisive
step which makes it impossible for the army to return—like Hsiang Yu, who
sunk his ships after crossing a river. Ch’en Hao, followed by Chia Lin,
understands the words less well as “puts forth every artifice at his command.”]

39. He burns his boats and breaks his cooking-pots; like a shepherd driving a
flock of sheep, he drives his men this way and that, and none knows whither he
is going.

[Tu Mu says: “The army is only cognizant of orders to advance or retreat; it is
ignorant of the ulterior ends of attacking and conquering.”]

40. To muster his host and bring it into danger:—this may be termed the
business of the general.

[Sun Tzŭ means that after mobilization there should be no delay in aiming a
blow at the enemy’s heart. Note how he returns again and again to this point.
Among the warring states of ancient China, desertion was no doubt a much more
present fear and serious evil than it is in the armies of today.]

41. The different measures suited to the nine varieties of ground;

[Chang Yu says: “One must not be hide-bound in interpreting the rules for the
nine varieties of ground.”]

the expediency of aggressive or defensive tactics; and the fundamental laws of
human nature: these are things that must most certainly be studied.

42. When invading hostile territory, the general principle is, that penetrating
deeply brings cohesion; penetrating but a short way means dispersion.

[Cf. supra, § 20.]

43. When you leave your own country behind, and take your army across
neighbourhood territory, you find yourself on critical ground.

[This “ground” is curiously mentioned in VIII. § 2, but it does not figure
among the Nine Situations or the Six Calamities in chap. X. One’s first impulse
would be to translate it distant ground,” but this, if we can trust the
commentators, is precisely what is not meant here. Mei Yao-ch’en says it
is “a position not far enough advanced to be called ‘facile,’ and not near
enough to home to be ‘dispersive,’ but something between the two.” Wang Hsi
says: “It is ground separated from home by an interjacent state, whose
territory we have had to cross in order to reach it. Hence, it is incumbent on
us to settle our business there quickly.” He adds that this position is of rare
occurrence, which is the reason why it is not included among the Nine
Situations.]

When there are means of communication on all four sides, the ground is one of
intersecting highways.

44. When you penetrate deeply into a country, it is serious ground. When you
penetrate but a little way, it is facile ground.

45. When you have the enemy’s strongholds on your rear, and narrow passes in
front, it is hemmed-in ground. When there is no place of refuge at all, it is
desperate ground.

46. Therefore, on dispersive ground, I would inspire my men with unity of
purpose.

[This end, according to Tu Mu, is best attained by remaining on the defensive,
and avoiding battle. Cf. supra, § 11.]

On facile ground, I would see that there is close connection between all parts
of my army.

[As Tu Mu says, the object is to guard against two possible contingencies: “(1)
the desertion of our own troops; (2) a sudden attack on the part of the enemy.”
Cf. VII. § 17. Mei Yao-ch’en says: “On the march, the regiments should be
in close touch; in an encampment, there should be continuity between the
fortifications.”]

47. On contentious ground, I would hurry up my rear.

[This is Ts’ao Kung’s interpretation. Chang Yu adopts it, saying: “We
must quickly bring up our rear, so that head and tail may both reach the goal.”
That is, they must not be allowed to straggle up a long way apart. Mei
Yao-ch’en offers another equally plausible explanation: “Supposing the
enemy has not yet reached the coveted position, and we are behind him, we
should advance with all speed in order to dispute its possession.” Ch’en
Hao, on the other hand, assuming that the enemy has had time to select his own
ground, quotes VI. § 1, where Sun Tzŭ warns us against coming exhausted to the
attack. His own idea of the situation is rather vaguely expressed: “If there is
a favourable position lying in front of you, detach a picked body of troops to
occupy it, then if the enemy, relying on their numbers, come up to make a fight
for it, you may fall quickly on their rear with your main body, and victory
will be assured.” It was thus, he adds, that Chao She beat the army of
Ch’in. (See p. 57.)]

48. On open ground, I would keep a vigilant eye on my defences. On ground of
intersecting highways, I would consolidate my alliances.

49. On serious ground, I would try to ensure a continuous stream of supplies.

[The commentators take this as referring to forage and plunder, not, as one
might expect, to an unbroken communication with a home base.]

On difficult ground, I would keep pushing on along the road.

50. On hemmed-in ground, I would block any way of retreat.

[Meng Shih says: “To make it seem that I meant to defend the position, whereas
my real intention is to burst suddenly through the enemy’s lines.” Mei
Yao-ch’en says: “in order to make my soldiers fight with desperation.”
Wang Hsi says, “fearing lest my men be tempted to run away.” Tu Mu points out
that this is the converse of VII. § 36, where it is the enemy who is
surrounded. In 532 A.D., Kao Huan, afterwards Emperor and canonized as Shen-wu,
was surrounded by a great army under Erh-chu Chao and others. His own force was
comparatively small, consisting only of 2000 horse and something under 30,000
foot. The lines of investment had not been drawn very closely together, gaps
being left at certain points. But Kao Huan, instead of trying to escape,
actually made a shift to block all the remaining outlets himself by driving
into them a number of oxen and donkeys roped together. As soon as his officers
and men saw that there was nothing for it but to conquer or die, their spirits
rose to an extraordinary pitch of exaltation, and they charged with such
desperate ferocity that the opposing ranks broke and crumbled under their
onslaught.]

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’en says: “The only chance of life lies in giving up all hope of
it.” This concludes what Sun Tzŭ has to say about “grounds” and the
“variations” corresponding 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 Tzŭ begins abruptly in VIII. §
2 to enumerate “variations” before touching on “grounds” at all, but only
mentions five, namely nos. 7, 5, 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 chap. IX, and then chap. X sets forth six new grounds, with six
variations of plan to match. None of these is mentioned again, though the first
is hardly to be distinguished from ground no. 4 in the next chapter. At last,
in chap. XI, we come to the Nine Grounds par excellence, immediately followed
by the variations. This takes us down to § 14. In §§ 43-45, fresh definitions
are provided for nos. 5, 6, 2, 8 and 9 (in the order given), as well as for the
tenth ground noticed in chap. VIII; and finally, the nine variations are
enumerated once more from beginning to end, all, with the exception of 5, 6 and
7, being different from those previously given. Though it is impossible to
account for the present state of Sun Tzŭ’s text, a few suggestive facts maybe
brought into prominence: (1) Chap. VIII, according to the title, should deal
with nine variations, whereas only five appear. (2) It is an abnormally short
chapter. (3) Chap. 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 Tzŭ’s work
cannot have come down to us in the shape in which it left his hands: chap. 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 Yu alludes to the conduct of Pan Ch’ao’s devoted followers in 73
A.D. The story runs thus in the Hou Han Shu, ch. 47: “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 behavior
underwent a sudden change, and he became remiss and negligent. Pan Ch’ao
spoke about this to the officers of his suite: ‘Have you 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 day 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-no 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-no, 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 chap. XII. § 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 three sentences are repeated from VII. §§ 12-14—in order to
emphasize 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 Tzŭ might have added that there is
always the risk of going wrong, either through their treachery or some
misunderstanding such as Livy records (XXII. 13): 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 Carthaginian 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.]

53. To be ignorant of any one of the following four or five principles does not
befit a warlike prince.

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 Tao-ch’en 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.” The following gives a
stronger meaning: “If the great state has once been defeated (before she has
had time to summon her allies), then the lesser states will hold aloof and
refrain from massing their forces.” Ch’en Hao and Chang Yu 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 Yu 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.”]

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, as said by Li Ch’uan, 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 enable 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 Yu, following up his previous note, thinks that Sun Tzŭ is condemning
this attitude of cold-blooded selfishness and haughty isolation.]

56. Bestow rewards without regard to rule,

[Wu Tzŭ (ch. 3) less wisely says: “Let advance be richly rewarded and retreat
be heavily punished.”]

issue orders

[Literally, “hang” or post up.”]

without regard to previous arrangements;

[“In order to prevent treachery,” says Wang Hsi. The general meaning is made
clear by Ts’ao Kung’s quotation from the Ssu-ma Fa: “Give instructions
only on sighting the enemy; give rewards when you see deserving deeds.”
Ts’ao Kung’s paraphrase: “The final instructions you give to your army
should not correspond with those that have been previously posted up.” Chang Yu
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.

[Cf. supra, § 34.]

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.]

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 Tzŭ were once quoted by Han Hsin in explanation of the
tactics he employed in one of his most brilliant battles, already alluded to on
p. 28. 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 manœuver, 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 looked 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 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 Tzŭ and T’ai Kung. See IX § 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 colleague round. What
says the Military Classic—‘Swoop down on the market-place and drive the
men off to fight.’ [This passage does not occur in the present text of Sun
Tzŭ.] 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.” [See Ch’ien Han Shu, ch. 34, ff. 4, 5.] ]

59. For it is precisely when a force has fallen into harm’s way that 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 Yu’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,

[I understand the first four words to mean “accompanying the enemy in one
direction.” Ts’ao Kung says: “unite the soldiers and make for the enemy.”
But such a violent displacement of characters is quite indefensible.]

we shall succeed in the long run

[Literally, “after a thousand li.”]

in killing the commander-in-chief.

[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,

[These 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. Cf. the “border-warden” of Lun
Yu III. 24, who may have had similar duties. When this half was returned to
him, within a fixed period, he was authorized to open the gate and let the
traveler through.]

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’en 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 your opponent by seizing what he holds dear,

[Cf. supra, § 18.]

and subtly contrive to time his arrival on the ground.

[Ch’en Hao’s explanation: “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’en 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 (VII. § 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. Taken thus, the present passage lends some support to Mei
Yao-ch’en’s interpretation of § 47.]

67. Walk in the path defined by rule,

[Chia Lin says: “Victory is the only thing that matters, and this cannot be
achieved by adhering to conventional canons.” It is unfortunate that this
variant rests on very slight authority, for the sense yielded is certainly much
more satisfactory. Napoleon, as we know, according to the veterans of the old
school whom he defeated, won his battles by violating every accepted canon of
warfare.]

and accommodate yourself to the enemy until you can fight a decisive battle.

[Tu Mu says: “Conform to the enemy’s tactics until a favourable opportunity
offers; then come forth and engage in a battle that shall prove decisive.”]

68. At first, then, exhibit the coyness of a maiden, until the enemy gives you
an opening; afterwards emulate the rapidity of a running hare, and it will be
too late for the enemy to oppose you.

[As the hare is noted for its extreme timidity, the comparison hardly appears
felicitous. But of course Sun Tzŭ was thinking only of its speed. The words
have been taken to mean: You must flee from the enemy as quickly as an escaping
hare; but this is rightly rejected by Tu Mu.]

[1] Giles’ Biographical Dictionary, no. 399.

[2] “The Science of War,” p. 333.

[3] “Stonewall Jackson,” vol. I, p. 421.