The spilled inks, shredded trees, and split bamboo slivers that comprise the body of literature on the theory and practice of warfare record the insights of past generations into one of the most harrowing and trying elements of human life.  Once author in particular Master Sun Wu (Sunzi) the author of the Sunzi[1] claims the tiger’s share of credit for not only the founding of the Eastern military tradition, but also for heavily influencing Western military thought.  His work is regarded so highly that since the original penning of it some twenty five hundred years ago corporations, leadership experts, and even sports teams have attempted to implement Sunzi’s theories into their practices—albeit if only cursory at best.  For military historians, Sunzi’s work is an excellent source of insight into Classical Chinese warfare and into the general theories of warfare that dominated East Asia for over two millennia.
 
The first historic records of Sunzi appear in the official histories of China, the Shiji (Records of the Grand Historian) and the Chunqiu (Spring and Autumn Annals and Wu and Yüeh) as active in his art of war during the early sixth century BCE.[2]  According to his entry in the Shiji, Sunzi was a shih (“man of service”) who led the armies of King Hu-lo of Wu (r. 514-496 BCE)[3] during the closing of the sixth century BCE[4] against the armies of Chu ( c. 511 BCE) and Ying.[5]  So great were the successes of Sunzi that his performance impressed the states of Qi and Qin (the later was the state that eventually united China under Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor).[6]  Despite his success and fame, Sunzi purportedly retired into obscurity.[7]
As to the question from whence did Sunzi come, there is some controversy.  According to Roger T. Ames, Sunzi was born in Qi (in modern day Shandong province) at the conclusion of the Spring and Autumn Period (c. 770-476 BCE).[8]  Ralph D. Sawyer, on the other hand, argues that Sunzi was born in Wu, citing the brief biography of Sunzi included in the Chunqiu; later Sawyer notes that there is, however, evidence in support of theory that Sunzi came from Qi because of the strong “Daoist conceptions” throughout his work, as Qi was a center of Daoist philosophy.[9]  This would help to explain the central role that adaptability is a military strength and the metaphor of water to illustrate this point throughout Sunzi’s treatise.
 
Not only is the question of Sunzi’s origin a matter of contention; there is some debate as to whether the Sunzi is a single person, a combination of several persons, or a fictitious character.  Mark Edward Lewis argues that Sunzi’s existence is questionable, and that the work that bears his name was likely composed a century later.[10]  Roger T. Ames approached the issue from the more moderate position.  According to Ames, the Sunzi may be the result of a “process” more “than a single event,” and was likely composed and edited by a number of disciples of Sunzi over the years that followed his death.[11]  The strongest evidence that Ames offers in support of this position is that the work makes references to Sun Wu as Sunzi or “Master Sun” which indicate that the text was compiled by persons who regarded him “as a teacher and as an authority of military matters.”[12]
 
However, according to Sawyer, “it seems likely that the historical figure existed and that he not only served as a strategist and possibly a general but also composed the core of the book that bears his name.”[13]  Sawyer goes into a bit more detail regarding the three possible origins of the Sunzi.  According to Sawyer, the first possible origin is that Sunzi authored the text shortly before his death in the early fifth century BCE.[14]  The second possibility is that the text was composed during the middle-to-late Warring States period, as evident by literary clues within the text.[15]  The third possibility, based upon evidence similar to that afore mentioned, is that the text was authored during the last half of the fifth century BCE.[16]  For Sawyer, it is not so important who and when the work was written, but rather that the core of it was likely composed by Sunzi.[17]  Whatever the providence of the work may be, the importance of the work is undeniable.
 
Before delving into the millennia old text, it is important for readers to understand first the military environment and circumstances of Classical China under which Sunzi composed his work.  The text comes from a time of great change, a military revolution, if one dares to use seriously such a term, during which time the armies of ancient China experienced a series of significant modifications.   According to Sawyer, by the time Sunzi composed his work, the art and science of warfare in China evolved to a point where its ravages endangered “the existence of virtually every state.”[18]  And, according to Lewis, the Sunzi reflects the “conditions in the first centuries of the Warring States period…”[19]  Lewis continues to describe these conditions: “The polities of this period were ‘states organized for warfare.’  Population registration, universal military service, and ranks of military merit were adapted to enable each state to expand at the expense of its neighbors.”[20]
 
These practices of population registration and military service manifested as mass conscription and gave rise to mass-infantry armies that supplanted the warrior nobility and their chariots.[21]  Never again in China’s history did a warrior elite dominate government affairs.  It is thus of little surprise that Sunzi’s work found such notoriety and his career so many opportunities for advancement during this tumultuous time in China’s history.  Furthermore, with the development of infantry-centric armies, crack troops also developed, the first example appeared in the state of Yue as bodyguards or retinues of nobles.[22]  Where before the warrior elite needed little or no personal protection, the new class of elites lacked these essential skills for self-defense of their predecessors.  This new development may have also occurred because the social elites felt that extra protection was a necessity during this dangerous and violent time.  Furthermore, with the rise of mass infantry and skilled warriors of other classes, it was thus easier for elites to hire out skilled warriors of lesser pedigrees and create significantly larger armies, ranging in numbers from 30,000 to 200,000.[23]
 
This period also observed the development and proliferation of a number of new military technologies.  One of the most notable of these was the crossbow.[24]  This is perhaps one of the most important symbolic inventions of the period, as the image of a single soldier with a crossbow using a single bolt to neutralize the single most important figure in the opposition is a key illustration of the Eastern model of warfare.[25]  This period also witnesses the development of leather and iron armor.[26]  These new military technologies created a new battlefield noticeably different from those of previous eras.  Because of these developments and the tactical changes brought with them, those commanders who learned most quickly from their experiences were more likely to be victorious.  Thus, in this period, a new interpretation on military matters such as that produced by Sunzi was important for commanders wishing to take advantage of the lessons learned from others.
 
Most importantly for our subject, this period witnessed the development of distinct, specialized intellectual disciplines concerned with warfare—a realm that was previously dominated by the warrior-noble elite.[27]  According to Stepehn Morillo, et al, “Those with military skills, knowledge, and especially experience were in high demand in all the states, and success in battle was the quickest route up the social scale.”[28]  Thus, during the time of Sunzi, warfare was a constant event, where success or failure meant a considerable cost of resources and manpower as various kings vied for control of China.  Furthermore, these conditions meant that aspiring and capable men of military minds could find regular and lucrative employment as advisors and commanders.
 
One of the greatest strengths of the text is that it is well laid out and organized.  Sunzi presented the information in such a way that readers can ease into the information and study of warfare.  To do this, Sunzi began with a discussion of the importance of the study of warfare—an “Introduction to the Philosophy of Warfare,” if one will—that gradually, chapter by chapter, took on issues that were more complex than those in the preceding pages.  The introduction, for example, examined how to estimate which commanders or rulers will likely be victorious and who will likely be defeated.[29]  This was not only useful in establishing a model for evaluating commanders, but was also essential in the efforts of the work to convince readers, especially aspiring members of the military leadership, of the importance of mastering warfare for the survival of the state.  Furthermore, there is also a self-gratifying element here, in that as Sunzi opened his work with a sales pitch of sorts in order to convince readers to hire him or heed his words.
 
While the structure of the work allowed readers to gradually familiarize themselves with Sunzi’s model of warfare, this structure does not detract from nor prohibit the level of thorough detail especially in the later chapters.  One prime example of Sunzi’s detailed examination of a topic is in Chapter Six: “Vacuity Substance” or weakness and strength. In this chapter, Sunzi described how to appear weak when strong to bait an enemy, how to appear strong when weak to avoid conflict, and how to create weakness in the opposition’s plans.  This adaptability is what Sunzi referred to as formlessness: “Thus the pinnacle of military deployment approaches the formless.  If it is formless, then even the deepest spy cannot discern it or the wise make plans against it.”[30]  This summation of Sunzi’s hand clearly stated the important lesson of formlessness in warfare.
 
Finally, throughout the text, Sunzi placed a significant responsibility upon the commander.  While the first chapter “Initial Estimations” outlines the qualities of a general and how to determine which commander will likely be victorious, the remainder of the work often places the responsibility for victory or defeat in the hands of the commander.  This is perhaps best illustrated by Sunzi’s note that “one who excels at warfare seeks [victory] through the strategic configurations of power [shih], not from reliance on men.”[31]  Thus, it was not reliance on nor the responsibility of soldiers that determined victory, but the manners in which commanders employed them.
 
One of the most noticeable weaknesses of the available English language translations of the Sunzi is the lack of details regarding army compositions, troop types, and equipment.  In order for readers to find information to complete these missing details, they must seek out other historic or archaeological records, the tomb of emperor Qin Shi Huang De being a prime example of the latter.  However, because of the otherwise thorough nature of the work, this lack of detail must be a purposeful choice.  One reason for this may be that most of the armies of the various states of the Warring States Period were for the most part relatively similar in equipment and composition.  Thus, for Sunzi, because these details were common knowledge, there was no reason to write them down, especially considering that his texts would have been hand written.
As with any text, especially those from distant cultures, times, and languages, one of the most significant obstacles of this work is that to gain the most from the writings, readers must possess a noteworthy body of outside knowledge.  At a minimum, this body of knowledge consists of understanding certain cultural concepts, such as the role of tian (“Heaven”) or Dao (“Way”) and some associated principles of Daosim.  In the context of Chinese history, tian often manifests in several forms, such as Tianxia (“under Heaven”), which is an idea that describes the legitimacy or moral appeal of rulers and officials.  This idea may in some ways be regarded as a descriptor that indicted the morale of the army or people.   Other elements that require some outside knowledge include concepts such as “vacuity” and “substance” which have especially strong implications of Daoist influences that described the value of adaptability in warfare—indeed, in all things.  However, this weakness is likely less one of the text (as there is undoubted certainty that Sunzi had no idea that his work would be read in translation thousands of years after his death in so many different cultures) and more a weakness of the cultures of readers.  
 
As previously noted in this critique, the Sunzi opens with a statement regarding the importance of warfare for the survival of the state.  This is perhaps one of the most important elements of this work—Sunzi made no hesitation in his assertions that warfare is an endeavor of critical importance.  Another important understanding of this work is that it provides insights into East Asian military thought that are otherwise unfamiliar (and perhaps even contradictory to) Western notions.  One of the most important examples of this Sunzi’s note that, “there are commands from the ruler which are not accepted.”[32]  According to Wu Zhu-sung, the “lost” bamboo slips contain additional clarification to this statement.  “There are orders from the ruler which are not implemented.  If the ruler orders anything contrary to these four, then do not implement it.”[33]  
 
Here, “these four” likely refers to the four preceding statements:
            “There are roads that are not followed,
            “There are armies that are not attacked,
            “There are fortified cities that are not assaulted,
            “There is terrain for which one does not contend.”[34]
 
This differs significantly from the conventional perception of East Asian armies, especially following interactions between the West and East Asian countries during the twentieth century.  Because of these interactions, Western countries developed a perception of East Asian countries as being strict and rigid, with complete obedience to superiors.  However, Sunzi’s note is contrary to these notions in that the general has a considerable freedom of command when in the field, presumably so long as his commands are issued for the betterment of the state.
 
The Sunzi provided insights into many lessons learned about classical Chinese warfare as well as East Asian warfare.  Ames notes most correctly “military practices, often described in detail in these manuals, set precedents for many of China’s later warfare traditions.”[35]  These traditions included professional (and at times significantly numerous) armies, merit-based promotions, and diplomacy as part of the military-political system.[36]  Whether in the armies of Qin Shi Huang De when he united China, the Sui and Tang invasions of Korea, or the Ming attempts to hold back the Jurchen invasion, these traditions persisted throughout Chinese military history for twenty-five hundred years.  Evidence of the influence of Sunzi on these traditions and numerous other works is evident in innumerable other Chinese and East Asian military texts that thought processes, such as the Book of Lord Shang (c. third century BCE), Sun Bin’s The Art of War, “Military Strategies” in the Master of Huai Nan.[37]  There are even echoes of Sunzi in Mao Zedong’s treatises on warfare.[38]


[1] Many East Asian literary works do not have a distinct title as in Western literary traditions.  Instead, these works often simply use the name of the author or an element from the first line of the work—both the case with the Sunzi.
[2] Sun-Tzu, “The Art of Warfare,” in The Seven Military Classics of Ancient China, Ralph D. Sawyer, eds. and trans. (San Francisco: Westview Press, 1993), 149.  Interestingly, Sunzi does not appear in the Zuo Zhuan, another historic record from the period.  For historians who presume that Sunzi is a non-historic persona, this lack of mention is a crucial piece of evidence.
[3] Sun-Tzu, The Art of Warfare, Roger Ames trans. (New York: The Random House Publishing Group, 1993), 32.
[4] Mark Edward Lewis, “Warring States Political History,” in The Cambridge History of Ancient China: From the Origins of Civilization to 221 B.C.Michael Loewe and Edward L. Shaughnessy, eds. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 504.
[5] Sawyer, 153.
[6] Sawyer, 153.
[7] Sawyer, 153.
[8] Ames, 32.
[9] Sawyer, 150 and 153.
[10] Lewis, 504.
[11] Ames, 21.
[12] Ames, 22.
[13] Sawyer, 150-151.
[14] Sawyer, 150.
[15] Sawyer, 150.
[16] Sawyer, 150.
[17] Sawyer, 151.
[18] Sawyer, 154.
[19] Lewis, 627.
[20] Lewis, 627.
[21] Lewis, 621.
[22] Lewis, 621.
[23] Lewis, 625-626.
[24] Lewis, 622.
[25] This imagery is an interesting contrast to the West’s usage of the mass spear-wielding phalanx.
[26] Lewis, 625.
[27] Lewis, 630.
[28] War in World History: Society, Technology, and War from ancient Times to the Present Volume 1 to 1500, Stephen Morillo, Jeremy Black, and Paul Lococo eds. (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2009), 26.
[29]  Sawyer, 157.  
[30] Sawyer, 168.
[31] Sawyer, 166.
[32] Sawyer, 171.
[33] Sawyer, 447, n. 114.
[34] Sawyer, 171.
[35] Ames, 35. 
[36] Ames, 35. 
[37] Ames, 35. 
[38] Mao Zedong, On Guerrilla Warfare, trans. Samuel B. Griffith II, (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2000).

Works Cited
 
Lewis, Mark Edwards, “Warring States Political History,” in The Cambridge History of Ancient China: From the Origins of Civilization to 221 B.C. edited by Michael Loewe and    Edward L. Shaughnessy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999.
 
Mao Zedong, On Guerrilla Warfare, translated by Samuel B. Griffith II, Urbana: University of    Illinois Press, 2000.
 
Sun-Tzu, The Art of Warfare, Roger Ames translated by New York: The Random House Publishing Group, 1993.
 
Sun-Tzu, “The Art of Warfare,” in The Seven Military Classics of Ancient China, edited and        translated by Ralph D. Sawyer, San Francisco: Westview Press, 1993.
 
War in World History: Society, Technology, and War from ancient Times to the Present Volume 1 to 1500, edited by Stephen Morillo, Jeremy Black, and Paul Lococo New York:   McGraw-Hill, 2009.

First Composed, May 3, 2007

This essay, composed in 2007, represents the first attempt to analyze the philosophy found in Hagakure. It contains minimal edits, except to clarify meaning and improve organization.

When considering the military libraries of East Asian thought and theory, two works often come to the front of shelves: Sunzi’s Art of War and Yamamoto Tsunetomo’s Hagakure. Today, audiences from walks of life far removed from the original authors read, analyze, and meditate upon these works to find insights into managing conflict, running businesses, and coaching sports teams. Despite the distance between the works from one another, as well as the far-removed distance and cultures behind reasons for reading them today, the core of both address a very human concern that transcends these limitations: death. To meet this grim end, each approaches it from differing roads lined with cultural influences upon the author, reflected in Sunzi’s concerns of efficacy and managing troops compared to Yamamoto’s evaluations of proper behavior and selfless action.  
 
Sunzi, author of the Art of War, is arguably most responsible for the development of military thought in East Asia. Scholars generally accept that he composed the work during the Warring State Period from 403 to 221 BCE.[1] A widely known work in its day and studied continuously since, The Art of War served as the basis of not only the Chinese models of warfare but also served a similar role throughout Asia where Chinese influence spread. Principally, The Art of Waraddressed military matters at the strategic level; that is, the interests of the commander in whom the king vested the responsibility to end conflict. Concise and direct, Sunzi opened his text with “War is a vital matter of state. It is the field on which life or death is determined and the road that leads to either survival or ruin and must be examined with the greatest care.”[2] Other translations noted a subtle difference in the language concerning the nature of warfare, such as “the Way (Tao) to survival or extinction.”[3]
 
In his writings, Sunzi made clear to readers the nature of war as difficult on body and spirit, taxing on state finances, and wasteful all around. For example, “If there is no gain, do not deploy the troops; if it is not critical, do not send them into battle.”[4] Nowhere did this waste show more apparent than in death and, to preserve the state Sunzi cautioned commanders and rulers alike to avoid unnecessary conflict: “the dead cannot be brought back to life.”[5] This concern possessed far-reaching influences, chiefly among them the reliance of Chinese states upon labor taxes to complete public works projects. It is reasonable to extend this even farther into the realm of a recognition that without people, there is no state as reflected in the idea of the Mandate of Heaven. 
 
Looking more deeply into Sunzi’s considerations for commanders, his target audience, he wrote in detail of the characteristics of military leaders. Of the five qualities of commanders that are fatal, two bore relevance to death. First, “If [the commander] has a reckless disregard for life, he can be killed”[6] otherwise translated as “one committed to dying can be slain.”[7] In this instance, Sunzi warned commanders against overzealousness in their own operations so as to not be defeated. Furthermore, he also implied that, when facing such a commander, he may be defeated by helping him meet his commitments to death. The second quality for commanders to beware, “if [the commander] is determined to live at all costs, he can be captured.”[8] Or “one committed to living can be captured.”[9] In the second, a Daoist like sense of balance may be inferred from the suspicious commanders too committed to preserving life. While death wasted the resources of the state, the prospect of death also acted as a rod commanders wielded over subordinates. “Throw your troops into situations from which there is no way out, and they will choose death over desertion. Once they are ready to die, how could you get less than maximum exertion from your officers and men?”[10] In this case, a clear need for intense loyalty precipitated the placement of soldiers in a hopeless scenario--and here, Sunzi resonated a sound like the language of death as Yamamoto.
 
Where The Art of War received significant note on a regional level, Hagakure spent much of its life before the twentieth century in relative, and purposeful, obscurity as the secrete guidebook of ethics and behavior of Nabeshima samurai--samurai far removed from the influential centers of literature found in Edo and Kyoto. Yamamoto Tsunetomo, author of the Hagakure, approached martial matters and death from a different perspective than Sunzi’s worry about the state’s resources. The Hagakure, composed in 1716,[11] over 100 years after the conclusion of the golden age of the samurai, addressed the growing conundrum of the nature of the samurai in a peaceful world. Here, he focused not on the martial prowess of the commander to inspire and maneuver troops—though historically speaking, samurai often acted as commanders of lower-class troops such as Ashigeru and Yamamoto does include some lines about management—but on the spirit and selflessness of the individual warrior. 
 
Like the cherry blossoms often associated with them, samurai were expected to live brilliant and brief lives. In times of tumult like the nearly two-hundred-year civil war known as the Sengoku Jidai (1467-1615), the samurai trained and practiced their craft of violence and thus understood their role in society as preparing for a glorious death in the service of their feudal lord. Though he could not receive an end like this--indeed, he was denied following his lord in death--Yamamoto longed for these days in his times. For example, the Hagakure established within the first two verses that “The way of the samurai is found in death.”[12] Additionally, Yamamoto advocated that “when there is a choice of either dying or not dying, it is better to die.”[13] Yamamoto encouraged samurai to daily meditate on death.[14] The ultimate goal of death is utilitarian in nature. Like principles of Zen used in samurai education, these words prepared samurai to commit to battle--or whatever the challenge may be--completely and selflessly, without ego. 
 
To truly appreciate the depth of Yamamoto’s philosophy, however, required readers to delve deeper into the function of this selflessness beyond preparing for death for death’s sake and into the realm of death for service’s sake. As Yamamoto noted, “Concerning martial valor, merit lies more in dying for one’s master than in striking down the enemy.”[15] On the surface, this passage highlighted that, for a samurai to be valorous, he must die in the service of his feudal lord. Under that, however, rested the base of Yamamoto’s philosophy that action for the master stood higher than action for one self. This same theme continued throughout Hagakure, and appears nowhere stronger than in his vows:
 
            Never be outdone in the Way of the Samurai.
            To be of good use to the master.
            To be filial to my parents.
            To manifest great compassion, and to act for the sake of man.[16]
 
In the language used, as well as the points made, Yamamoto demonstrated in his personal vows the critical nature of loyalty, service, and selflessness in his philosophy that extended as the basis of his discussion of death. As he noted, “Whatever you do should be done for the sake of your master and parents, the people in general, and for posterity,”[17]and this extended to even the case of death. 
 
Sunzi addressed death from the perspective of the commander. He argued that war was a wasteful adventure and death was one of the many methods the resources of the state were exhausted. Death did have a role in his approach to warfare that, if properly utilized, served to motivate soldiers. Commanders needed to, however, balance the role of death as a motivation, either a desire for or a fear of, to not become a liability to the state. Conversely, Yamamoto Tsunetomo discussed death from the perspective of the individual soldier in service to his immediate feudal superior--not the state overall. Yamamoto strongly advocated that “The Way of a Samurai is found only in death,” but that such a death, as with all things, must be one met through a life of selfless service. It was hoped that, in meditating on death, a samurai could release himself from ego and thus enjoy a more complete and satisfying quality of life.

Works Cited

​Ames, Roger (Trans.) Sun-Tzu: The Art of Warfare. New York: Ballantine, 1993.
 
Sawyer, Ralph D. (Trans.) Art of War. Boulder: Westview Press, 1994.
 
Wilson, William S. (Trans.) Hagakure. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 2002.