Sun Tzu and Compassion
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How can one truly comprehend their enemy if they lack compassion? In the days when this treatise was written, engaging in battle meant thrusting a weapon into the body of an opponent, often mere arm's length away. To do so required mercilessness, the suppression of all emotion, and the dehumanization of the enemy. It seems inconceivable for an intelligent and emotional being to willingly engage in such acts. Yet, we witness this reality unfolding around the world on a daily basis. Presently, we possess the capability to inflict death from great distances, watching the destruction of many on a television screen as if observing a low-grade film. This represents the pinnacle of emotionless and merciless killing. Conversely, finding compassion offers an alternative—to work towards resolving our differences while recognizing the shared humanity between ourselves and our adversaries. By identifying common ground and striving to integrate these commonalities for mutual benefit, we can rise above the primal instincts of lions tearing into zebras or jackals devouring antelopes. Are we not superior to lions and jackals? Unlike them, we possess the capacity to envision tomorrow and strive for a better world. This belief was held by Sun Tzu, a seasoned veteran of numerous battles.
A war unfolds in three stages: planning, combat, and outcome. During the heat of battle, we are urged to "stir anger" within our soldiers. One cannot extinguish lives when they view their foes as friends or equals. No, one must harbor anger or see the enemy as inferior, deserving of the impending violence. However, this mindset does not apply to the planning or outcome stages. In these phases, compassion for both soldiers and non-combatants must find its place. Upon scrutinizing history's bloodiest conflicts, one glaring absence emerges—compassion—and one overwhelming presence—hatred.
In the tenth chapter, Sun Tzu advises, "Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death." Thus, he believed in fostering compassion toward the humble soldier. In the third chapter, he asserts, "In the practical art of war, the best thing of all is to take the enemy's country whole and intact; to shatter and destroy it is not so good." Furthermore, it is better to recapture and assimilate an enemy force rather than annihilate it. The emphasis on "recapture" rather than "rebuild" hints at compassion. As Nelson Mandela wisely said, "When I make my enemy my friend, he is no longer my enemy." If we, through compassion, transform our adversaries into loyal friends, have we not eradicated the very notion of enemies forever? Lions and jackals are unrelated, but we humans are bound together. We all bleed the same crimson hue.
Compassion does not imply weakness; it is an essential element of effective leadership. Sun Tzu expands on his philosophy of compassion, stating, "If soldiers are punished before they have developed loyalty towards their leader, they will not be obedient. And without obedience, they will be practically useless. However, if punishments are not enforced once soldiers have become loyal, they will become unruly." Therefore, soldiers must initially be treated with humanity, but their behavior must be kept in check through strict discipline. This delicate balance is a sure path to victory. These principles do not advocate being cruel in order to be kind. In fact, undisciplined officers and soldiers pose a greater threat than the enemy until they are willing to obey every command. Each punishment and reward must be justified and harmonize with others. Compassion and understanding of the immediate circumstances must be weighed against the desired victory or outcome.
Yet, a kingdom that has been destroyed can never be resurrected, nor can the dead be brought back to life. This sentence in the twelfth chapter serves as evidence of Sun Tzu's belief in compassion. Undoubtedly, his motivations were not solely driven by compassion. In the second chapter, he discusses the rewards bestowed upon those who captured ten or more chariots in combat. They would replace the enemy's flags with their own, intermingle the chariots, and integrate the captured soldiers into their ranks, treating them kindly. Absorbing the enemy's resources makes logical sense. It becomes evident that Sun Tzu deemed the human cost as important as the toll on a nation's treasury. In essence, one cannot consider one without the other. Utterly annihilating the enemy and their land brings unimaginable costs. It is wiser to conquer and assimilate. The Romans, Xerxes, and Alexander the Great provide prime examples of this successful strategy. By incorporating the strengths of the defeated into their own, they grew stronger. Destroying the enemy, on the other hand, leads to empty victories. Therefore, if we can discern how to benefit both ourselves and our adversaries by forging friendships instead of shattering them, the resulting outcome will endure.
Hence the saying: 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.
This is the first of two sayings that underscore the importance of truly knowing one's enemy. If we hold our enemies in contempt, viewing them as inferior to ourselves, it becomes impossible to grasp their thoughts and emotions. Understanding their emotions allows insight into their mindset, enabling us to anticipate their actions. By doing so, we can triumph without engaging in direct conflict. Thus, the pinnacle of generalship lies in thwarting the enemy's plans. The next best approach is to prevent their forces from uniting, followed by engaging them on the battlefield when they are at full strength. The worst strategy of all is to lay siege upon fortified cities. To obstruct the enemy's plans, one must comprehend their intentions. Even with the most extensive spy network, it is futile to glean their strategy solely from observing their actions if we lack an understanding of their thoughts and emotions. It may be that what eludes the masses is the realization that compassion holds the key. Excessive compassion can be a weakness that leads to a commander's defeat.
Sun Tzu speaks of a moral law that aligns the people with their ruler, ensuring unwavering loyalty, even in the face of peril. He lists wisdom, sincerity, benevolence, courage, and strictness as the virtues that embody this moral law. If a leader possesses the wisdom to recognize compassion as a potent guiding force, rather than an impediment, they will find the courage to demonstrate benevolence and chart a different path in dealing with their enemies. They will possess the strictness necessary to adhere to their strategy. Sun Tzu claims, "All can see the tactics whereby I conquer, but what none can see is the strategy out of which victory is evolved." Perhaps what most fail to see is that targeted compassion is the secret ingredient for manufacturing victories that elude ordinary sovereigns and generals.
"He who can modify his tactics in relation to his opponent and thereby succeed in winning may be called a heaven-born captain." A heaven-born captain sounds like an extraordinary leader, possessing qualities beyond those of an average general. Such a leader has the ability to comprehend their enemy without being swayed by anger, hatred, envy, or other negative emotions. They possess the capacity to see their enemy in a way no one else can, allowing them to devise strategies that transcend bloodshed and destruction. The fighter who remains in the shadows, uninterested in fame or the usual conventions of thinking, exhibits the audacity to seek an alternative to violence. This fighter focuses solely on forging lasting peace without engaging in battles or warfare—a truly rare individual. Perhaps this is why history's records are silent when it comes to such leaders. Without famous battles or grandiose triumphs, there is little to captivate or impress audiences. It is a somber reflection on our species that we measure historical periods by wars and battles rather than the periods of peace in between. This poses a poignant question: Are you such a captain?