Sun Tzu's Art of War

Yesterday I was part of a panel discussion on Sun Tzu's classic The Art of War on BBC Radio 3's excellent programme Night Waves. I'm told it will air on the Thursday after Easter if you'd like to listen. It should be available on-line as well. I haven't heard it so I hope I don't sound too daft. But I had a lot of fun doing it. Night Waves is rather like a very good seminar.

I hadn't actually thought much systematically about Sun Tzu before I went on so I wrote a little essay (as one does) on it. I think I said a few of these things, but sadly I think I write more clearly than I speak.

Sun Tzu’s Relevance to Contemporary Warfare

Talking points for BBC R3 ‘Nightwaves’

Dr David J. Betz
Department of War Studies,
King’s College London

3 April 2007


The importance of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War to contemporary military operational matters rests on three famous and well-known quotes. This is not to say that there is not much else in the work of great worth, but one can be tolerably certain that most strategists nowadays will be well familiar with three maxims particularly.

The first,

If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.
The Art of War, Chapter III

This quote is often repeated approvingly in military circles because it captures the essence of the currently very popular idea that in modern warfare information is the ‘force multiplier’ par excellence. If you take two opponents equal in every way in terms of numbers, quality of equipment, and tactical technique, except one is equipped with profoundly superior and more accurate information, or ‘dominant batttlespace knowledge’, to use the jargon, then you may expect that side to win handily. This is, for instance, in part how the lopsided outcome of the 1991 Gulf War and the March-April 2003 ‘main combat operations’ phase of the Iraq War have been explained: the blundering military ineptitude of Saddam Hussein merely heightened the lopsidedness of what was an entirely predictable outcome.

Essentially, this first maxim fits very well with the until-very-recently quite popular in military-analytical circles idea that we are in the midst of a ‘Revolution in Military Affairs’. Just as our economic, political and social systems are being transformed by the advent of the Information Age so too are our military forces being transformed. This concept has lost some of its luster in the wake of the Iraq War where the relatively small and light, fast-moving and hard-hitting US and UK forces which so adroitly caused the collapse of the regime of Saddam Hussein found themselves with feet of clay in the aftermath. Nonetheless, it is still current in policy and drives thinking on military procurement decisions in most Western countries (and China). The gist of the Revolution in Military Affairs concerns three key factors or enabling technologies:

• Precision guided weapons which allow attacks to be conducted highly precisely and selectively;
• Advanced sensors which are integral to the generation of a sophisticated, accurate and near real time awareness of all militarily significant movements on the battlefield; and,
• Advanced communications which permit the dissemination of this knowledge throughout one’s own force with the effect that it develops a common situational awareness.

Together, it is argued, these three things give advanced military forces immense advantages over less advanced ones. To illustrate: Imagine a chess game in which one player can see all the pieces while the other can see only his own—and not always even that much reliably. In such a situation you would expect that the side with a better view would win every time, even if it deployed fewer and less individually effective pieces. That is the thrust of the Revolution in Military Affairs: it’s the ultimate hilltop observation post; armed forces can get lighter and less numerous without sacrificing the ability to generate raw combat power if they possess a distinct knowledge advantage over their opponents. It should be obvious why those who advocate this position now find what Sun Tzu said more than 20 centuries ago about knowing oneself and one’s enemy highly congenial.

Of course this line of argument has lost much rhetorical force since April 2003 when the conflict in Iraq shifted into an unconventional mode in which the other side ceased to move and fight in a manner which ‘advanced sensors’ could discern as militarily significant. Insurgents blend into the landscape both geographic and human and in this sort of situation numbers—‘boots on the ground’—still count for a great deal. Stand-off firepower is a superb tool for killing people and breaking things at low cost to oneself, but it’s not much use in securing an area of operations and returning a semblance of civil life to an area which combat operations have disrupted. Unfortunately, for the US and UK it is this which will determine victory in the war in Iraq because the winning of battles does not, ipso facto, mean the achievement of one’s desired political outcome.

One might expect that Sun Tzu had lost a measure of appeal as a result of this. In fact, that is not the case because his appeal and special relevance has other dimensions which can be seen in his second oft-quoted maxim:

Hence to fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.
The Art of War, Chapter III

To understand why Sun Tzu wrote this one needs to understand the environment in which he was writing which was a time of constant strife between the various Chinese kingdoms. In his time the enemy of the day could be the ally tomorrow and the enemy again the day after. Defeat was never final and the constant shifting of alliances made it vital that one carefully preserved one’s forces and did not gamble them on a single throw of the dice—because there was never a single throw! Moreover, force had to be applied in a much calibrated way, enough to achieve one’s aim without unduly inflaming the desire for revenge on the part of the defeated or too much fear and envy on the part of onlooking other powers. History, contrary to the old adage, never repeats itself; but it does show recurrent patterns and in a certain sense Sun Tzu’s time shows commonality with our own.

The zeitgeist of our time, at least in the West, is to a greater or lesser degree characterized by a sensitivity to casualties, both our own and the enemy’s, and an eagerness to avoid the disruption of ‘normal’ affairs on which our prosperity rests and which combat, particularly major combat, inevitably entails. This makes Sun Tzu for us an appealing prism through which to look at and conceptualize contemporary warfare. Certainly, most strategists would now take the view that the ‘Long War’ against ‘Islamic Fascism’ with which we are now faced is not going to be won purely, or even principally, by military means. Sun Tzu speaks to that part of ourselves which sees fighting and killing the ‘enemy’ (itself an ambiguous concept now) as insufficient on its own and in fact in some ways when crudely applied somewhat counter-productive.

There is a tendency here to draw a contrast between Sun Tzu and the 19th century Prussian Carl von Clausewitz on this point, not surprisingly because Clausewitz famously wrote that,

War therefore is an act of violence intended to compel our opponent to fulfill our will.
On War, Book I, Chapter I

The most efficacious way to do this, Clausewitz suggested, was to destroy the enemy’s army, to disarm him and remove his ability to resist. Traditionally, ‘Clausewitzeans’ have shown great concern with ‘decisive battle’, a single engagement in which the maximum force is brought to bear in order to bring the war to a conclusion and thereby achieve the aim for which it was fought. On its own this proscription is problematic. In its raw state it rings home less truly than does Sun Tzu’s admonition. I’d hasten to add, however, that this should not be taken as an excuse to throw aside Clausewitz or to criticize ‘Clausewitzeans’ because in fact Clausewitz’s meaning is more complex and his intentions more nuanced. The ‘headline’ understanding of Clausewitz is, however, superficially cruder than the ‘headline’ understanding of Sun Tzu. In fact, speaking as a scholar of warfare I would argue strongly that Clausewitz’s On War is the canonical work with Sun Tzu’s Art of War as an increasingly useful companion. The contrasts and putative juxtapositions are more apparent than real.

There are in comparison to other fields such as economics or politics precious few ‘philosophers’ of war. Politics has Plato, Hobbes, Locke and so on. Economics has Smith and Marx and Friedman. War has just Clausewitz and to a lesser extent Sun Tzu (maybe Machiavelli crosses over too). In other words, the field is not large. Amid the multitude of tactical manuals and quasi-philosophical ruminations of famous generals from Vegetius to Napoleon only Sun Tzu and Clausewitz stand out for the attempt to understand war as a whole phenomenon. This explains why they have such a prominent place in military education where they are both much talked about, albeit less frequently read. Sun Tzu obviously has much influence on contemporary Chinese military thought. The Art of War was also highly admired in Russia, having been translated into Russian and put to use by the Imperial General staff by the 1860s. While the recognition of Sun Tzu’s merit came later in the West the enthusiasm for him has been no less. His third famous maxim is particularly important here,

In all fighting, the direct method may be used for joining battle, but indirect methods will be needed in order to secure victory.
The Art of War, Chapter V

Sun Tzu could fairly be described as the originator of the ‘Indirect Approach’ in warfare, a notion popularized and expanded by the British strategist Basil Liddell-Hart, which has since become what we now refer to as ‘manoeuvre warfare’ which is essentially the doctrinal orthodoxy of all the major military powers today.

Sun Tzu is also highly relevant to ‘small wars’ (ie., ‘unconventional wars’). Indeed, one of his most influential translators was the US Marine Brigadier General, and student of Oxford University, Samuel B. Griffiths who was a leading figure in the ‘Small Wars’ community of the Marine Corps (and therefore, since the US Army has habitually eschewed such forms of warfare, could be described as a leading figure in American thought on small wars). Among Griffith’s other translations was Mao Zedong’s classic book On Guerrilla Warfare which, unsurprisingly, is also steeped in Sun Tzu’s thinking. Indeed, Mao is reputed to have memorized The Art of War. One could argue that the manner in which Mao fought and won the Chinese civil war constitutes the prototype of modern insurgency of which the current ‘Global Insurgency’, emblemized if not led, by Osama bin Laden’s Al Qaeda is an evolved descendant. In other words, it would not at all shock me to learn that on the shelves of his cave in Waziristan or wherever else he might be that Osama bin Laden has a well thumbed copy of Sun Tzu’s Art of War.