

To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.” While this translation is not wrong per se, it fails to convey crucial differences between ancient Chinese terminology and its modern variants. It derives from the translation of the second verse of the third chapter in The Art of War: “For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. The source of this theory of strategic victory through non-violent measures is not in dispute. Michael Handel’s Masters of War highlights its significance to his entire understanding of conflict: “Sun Tzu, who concentrates on the highest political and strategic levels and is interested in achieving a bloodless victory before the outbreak of war, assigns a higher priority on the use of non-military means.” Linking Sun Tzu with modern thinking, General David Petraeus adds: “For Sun Tzu, and for any strategist, of course, the best strategy is the one that delivers victory without fighting.” Many today view winning without fighting as the cornerstone of Sun Tzu’s overall military philosophy. Conversely, very few will approach Sun Tzu with any comparable understanding of what drove the animosity between the states of Wu and Yue-the original text’s only significant historical reference. At the war college level, most approach Thucydides with at least a vague notion of the conflict between Athens and Sparta, and Clausewitz’s Napoleonic era is far from alien. Moreover, our general lack of knowledge about the historical factors that shaped Sun Tzu’s thinking hampers our ability to independently assess the various scholarly interpretations. No one truly translates Sun Tzu they merely strive to interpret him for the modern reader. Within the text, both individual characters and entire verses stubbornly defy any scholarly consensus. Its brevity, terse style, arcane language, and lack of historical tethers frustrate our efforts to gain clear insight. Sun Tzu’s The Art of War presents a far more daunting obstacle. And, although Thucydides’ Greek is renowned for its translation difficulties, his lengthy explanations of historical factors-including the documentation of contemporaneous speeches and debates-aids the student in wrestling with the varied meanings of the text. For Clausewitz, we are assisted greatly in this endeavor by his dogged determination to clearly define his terms.

Only then can we accurately gauge their modern relevance. Thus, we must rely on others to accurately translate the words of the original text for us, and we concurrently need some insight into the historical context in which they were written to verify our interpretations of their meaning. None of these works was originally written in English, and all of them were compiled in an age far removed from our own frames of reference. For good generals do not attack in open battle where the danger is mutual, but do it always from a hidden position, so as to kill or at least terrorize the enemy while their own men are unharmed as far as possible.Ĭolin Gray, the late doyen of strategy scholars, branded one of his maxims of war and strategy as: “If Thucydides, Sun-tzu, and Clausewitz Did Not Say It, It Probably Is Not Worth Saying.” The acceptance of these three texts as a strategic canon, though, poses a challenge for the contemporary strategist.
