Chapter 5

1. Sūnzǐ said: Managing a large force works on the same principle as managing a small one — it is simply a matter of dividing the men into groups.

[That is, breaking the army into regiments, companies, and so on, each under a subordinate officer. Du Mu reminds us of Han Xin’s famous reply to the first Han Emperor, who once asked him: “How large an army do you think I could lead?” “No 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 is no different from fighting with a small one — it is simply a matter of setting up signs and signals.

3. To make sure your whole army can absorb the enemy’s attack and stay unshaken — this is accomplished through direct and indirect maneuvers.

[We now come to one of the most interesting parts of Sūnzǐ’s treatise: the discussion of zheng (direct) and qi (indirect). Since it is not at all easy to grasp the full meaning of these two terms, or to render them consistently with good English equivalents, it may help to list some of the commentators’ remarks before going further. Li Quan: “Facing the enemy is zheng; making a flanking diversion is qi.” Jia Lin: “When facing the enemy, your troops should be arrayed in the normal way, but to secure victory unusual maneuvers must be used.” Mei Yaochen: “Qi is active, zheng is passive; passivity means waiting for an opportunity, while activity brings the victory itself.” He Shi: “We must cause the enemy to view our straightforward attack as a hidden design, and vice versa; thus zheng may also be qi, and qi may also be zheng.” He cites the famous exploit of Han Xin, who, while marching ostensibly against Linjin (now Zhaoyi in Shaanxi), suddenly threw a large force across the Yellow River in wooden tubs, completely confounding his opponent. [Qian Han Shu, ch. 3.] Here, we are told, the march on Linjin was zheng, and the surprise maneuver was qi. Zhang Yu offers this summary of opinions on the words: “Military writers disagree about the meaning of qi and zheng. Wei Liaozi [4th cent. BCE] says: ‘Direct warfare favors frontal attacks; indirect warfare attacks from the rear.’ Cao Gong says: ‘Going straight out to join battle is direct; appearing at the enemy’s rear is indirect.’ Li Weigong [6th–7th cent. CE] says: ‘In war, marching straight ahead is zheng; turning movements are qi.’ These writers simply treat zheng as zheng and qi as qi; they do not note that the two are interchangeable and flow into each other like two sides of a circle [see § 11 below]. A commentary on the Tang Emperor Taizong gets to the heart of the matter: ‘A qi maneuver may become zheng if we make the enemy view it as zheng; then our real attack will be qi, and vice versa. The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy so that he cannot grasp our real intent.’” To put it perhaps a bit more plainly: any attack or operation is zheng if the enemy has had his attention fixed on it; it is qi if it surprises him or comes from an unexpected direction. If the enemy spots a movement meant to be qi, it immediately becomes zheng.]

4. That the impact of your army may be like a grindstone smashed against an egg — this is accomplished through the science of weak points and strong.

5. In all fighting, the direct method can be used to join battle, but indirect methods will be needed to secure victory.

[Zhang Yu says: “Steadily develop indirect tactics, either by pounding the enemy’s flanks or falling on his rear.” A brilliant example of “indirect tactics” that decided a campaign was Lord Roberts’ night march around the Peiwar Kotal in the Second Afghan War. [1]]

6. Indirect tactics, applied effectively, are as inexhaustible as Heaven and Earth, as unending as the flow of rivers and streams; like the sun and moon, they end only to begin again; like the four seasons, they pass away only to return.

[Du Yu and Zhang Yu understand this as referring to the permutations of qi and zheng. But at this point Sūnzǐ is not speaking of zheng at all — unless, as Zheng Youxian suggests, a clause about it has dropped out of the text. Of course, as already pointed out, the two are so inextricably interwoven in all military operations that they cannot really be considered apart. Here we simply have a figurative expression of the almost infinite resourcefulness of a great commander.]

7. There are no more than five musical notes, yet their combinations produce more melodies than can ever be heard.

8. There are no more than five primary colors (blue, yellow, red, white, and black), yet in combination they produce more hues than can ever be seen.

9. There are no more than five basic tastes (sour, pungent, salty, sweet, bitter), yet their combinations yield more flavors than can ever be tasted.

10. In battle, there are no more than two methods of attack — direct and indirect; yet these two in combination give rise to an endless series of maneuvers.

11. The direct and the indirect lead into each other in turn. It is like moving in a circle — you never reach an end. Who can exhaust the possibilities of their combination?

12. The onset of troops is like the rush of a torrent that will even roll stones along in its course.

13. The quality of decision is like the well-timed swoop of a falcon that lets it strike and destroy its victim.

[The Chinese here is tricky, and a certain key word in this context defies the translator’s best efforts. Du Mu defines it as “the measurement or estimation of distance.” But this meaning does not quite fit the illustrative simile in § 15. Applying his definition to the falcon, it seems to me to refer to the instinct of self-restraint that keeps the bird from swooping on its quarry until the right moment, together with the ability to judge when that moment has come. The corresponding quality in soldiers is the highly important one of being able to hold their fire until the very instant 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 firing a single gun in reply. Nelson coolly waited until he was at close range, when the broadside he brought to bear caused fearful damage on the enemy’s nearest ships.]

14. Therefore the good fighter will be terrifying in his onset and prompt in his decision.

[The word “decision” would refer to the measurement of distance mentioned above — letting the enemy get near before striking. But I cannot help thinking Sūnzǐ meant the word in a figurative sense comparable to our idiom “short and sharp.” Compare Wang Xi’s note, which, after describing the falcon’s mode of attack, continues: “This is just how the ‘psychological moment’ should be seized in war.”]

15. Energy is like the bending of a crossbow; decision, like the releasing of the trigger.

[None of the commentators seem to grasp the real point of the simile — the force stored up in the bent crossbow until released by the finger on the trigger.]

16. Amid the turmoil and tumult of battle there may be apparent disorder and yet no real disorder at all; amid confusion and chaos, your formation may seem to have no head or tail, yet it will be proof against defeat.

[Mei Yaochen says: “Since the subdivisions of the army have been fixed in advance and the various signals agreed upon, the separating and joining, the dispersing and collecting that take place during battle may give the appearance of disorder when no real disorder is possible. Your formation may seem to have no head or tail, your dispositions all topsy-turvy, and yet a rout of your forces is out of the question.”]

17. Simulated disorder presupposes perfect discipline; simulated fear presupposes courage; simulated weakness presupposes strength.

[To make the translation intelligible, it is necessary to soften the sharply paradoxical form of the original. Cao Gong gives a hint of the meaning in his brief note: “These things all serve to break up formation and conceal one’s condition.” But Du Mu is the first to put it plainly: “If you wish to feign confusion to lure the enemy on, you must first have perfect discipline; if you wish to display timidity to entrap the enemy, you must have extreme courage; if you wish to parade your weakness to make the enemy overconfident, you must have exceptional strength.”]

18. Hiding order beneath the appearance of disorder is simply a matter of subdivision;

[See § 1 above.]

concealing courage under a show of timidity presupposes a fund of latent energy;

[The commentators strongly interpret a certain Chinese word here differently from elsewhere in this chapter. Du Mu says: “Seeing that we are in a favorable position and yet make no move, the enemy will believe that we are really afraid.”]

masking strength with weakness is achieved through tactical dispositions.

[Zhang Yu tells the following story of Gaozu, the first Han Emperor: “Wanting to crush the Xiongnu, he sent out spies to report on their condition. But the Xiongnu, forewarned, carefully hid all their able-bodied men and well-fed horses, letting only the infirm soldiers and emaciated cattle be seen. As a result, all the spies recommended that the Emperor attack. Only Lou Jing opposed them, saying: ‘When two countries go to war, they naturally tend to make a showy display of their strength. Yet our spies have seen nothing but old age and infirmity. This must be some ruse of the enemy, and it would be unwise to attack.’ The Emperor, however, ignored this advice, fell into the trap, and found himself surrounded at Pingdeng.”]

19. Thus one who is skillful at keeping the enemy on the move maintains deceptive appearances, by which the enemy will be made to act.

[Cao Gong’s note is “Make a display of weakness and want.” Du Mu says: “If our force happens to be superior to the enemy’s, weakness may be simulated to lure him on; but if inferior, he must be led to believe we are strong, so that he will keep off. In fact, all the enemy’s movements should be determined by the signs we choose to give him.” Note the following story of Sun Bin, a descendant of Sūnzǐ: In 341 BCE, the state of Qi was at war with Wei and sent Tian Ji and Sun Bin against the general Pang Juan, who happened to be a deadly personal enemy of Sun Bin. Sun Bin said: “The state of Qi has a reputation for cowardice, and so our enemy despises us. Let us turn this to our advantage.” Accordingly, when the army had crossed the border into Wei, he ordered that 100,000 campfires be shown on the first night, 50,000 on the next, and only 20,000 on the night after that. Pang Juan pursued them hotly, saying to himself: “I knew these men of Qi were cowards — their numbers have already dropped by more than half.” In his retreat, Sun Bin came to a narrow defile, which he calculated his pursuers would reach after dark. Here he had a tree stripped of its bark and inscribed with the words: “Under this tree shall Pang Juan die.” Then, as night began to fall, he placed a strong body of archers in ambush nearby, with orders to shoot the moment they saw a light. Later, Pang Juan arrived at the spot, noticed the tree, and struck a light to read what was written on it. His body was immediately riddled by a volley of arrows, and his whole army was thrown into confusion. (The above is Du Mu’s version of the story; the Shiji, less dramatically but probably more accurately, has Pang Juan cut his own throat with a cry of despair after the rout of his army.)]

He sacrifices something so that the enemy may snatch at it.

20. By holding out bait, he keeps the enemy on the march; then with a body of picked men he lies in wait.

[With an emendation suggested by Li Jing, this reads: “He lies in wait with the main body of his troops.”]

21. The skilled