MEDITATIONS: SUN TZU’S THE ART OF WAR, CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Nine Situations
The art of war recognizes nine varieties of ground: dispersive ground, facile ground, open ground, ground of intersecting highways, serious ground, difficult ground, hemmed-in ground, desperate ground. (Sun Tzu 105)
These nine grounds defined by Sun Tzu are actually conceptions of circumstance, sets of contexts which themselves prescribe particular modes of action. Each ground, therefore, is a metaphor, a symbolic way of thinking which accounts for not only terrain but the psychology of the army and of its officers. In short, what General Sun has devised is yet another heuristic model, another conceptual map by which to navigate the infinite complexities of the noumenal space called war.
When a chieftain is fighting in his own territory, it is dispersive ground.
When he has penetrated into hostile territory, but to no great distance, it is facile ground.
Ground the possession of which imports great advantage to either side is contentious ground.
Ground on which each side has liberty of movement is open ground.
Ground which forms the key to three contiguous states, so that he who occupies it first has most of the Empire at his command, is ground of intersecting highways.
When an army has penetrated into the heart of a hostile country, leaving a number of fortified cities in its rear, it is serious ground.
Mountain forests, rugged steeps, marshes and wetlands—all country that is hard to traverse: this is difficult ground.
Ground which is reached through narrow gorges, and from which we can only retire by tortuous paths, so that a small number of the enemy would suffice to crush a large body of our men: this is hemmed-in ground.
Ground on which we can only be saved from destruction by fighting without delay is desperate ground. (105)
Having specified the meaning of each type of ground, Sun Tzu elaborates as to the relationship of each of the nine types. It is from these relationships that a general can come to understand the reasons behind Sun Tzu’s dictates.
For instance, neither dispersive nor facile ground are positions on which one should linger:
On dispersive ground, therefore, fight not. On facile ground, halt not. (105)
But why should this be? Consider the psychology of a general’s men in such a situation. Moreover, consider the psychology of an individual. When in relative safety and familiarity, allies who should be united feel comfortable enough to begin feuding with one another. Likewise, when no particular instinctive drive reigns dominant over the others, an individual becomes paralyzed, unable to decide what priority to pursue first.
Men in their own territory or on their own border are in such a situation. So is a man who has only just begun to try a new job, hobby, or skill. Both are likely to fuss and get little accomplished. Thus does Sun Tzu say:
On dispersive ground, I would inspire my men with unity of purpose. On facile ground, I would see that there is close connection between all parts of my army. (108)
He makes further prescriptions for contentious ground and open ground as well.
On contentious ground, attack not.
On open ground, do not try to block the enemy’s way. (105)
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On contentious ground, I would hurry up my rear.
On open ground, I would keep a vigilant eye on my defenses. (108)
It is best to seize and hold what the enemy holds most dear that to fight bitterly to take it away from him. Likewise, it is best to allow the enemy to maneuver uselessly than it is to attempt a futile action at immobilizing him.
In both of these cases, the ground foretells of the obstacles and how to avoid them.
In the former case, the psychology of those who oppose the general or the individual matters more than the environment itself. The wise man must understand the subjective nature of value. Only then can he correctly conduct a cost-benefit analysis. If he cannot do this, he will waste more energy than resources or advantages gained in his pursuits. Even if it seems he is winning, the truth is that he is bleeding internally.
In the latter case, there is a similar set of circumstances. It is foolish to oppose an opponent at his greatest strength. Trying to stop an opposing army or competitor at doing what is not only within his power but also facilitated by the ground is foolish. One should instead focus on securing himself—the only one he has control over.
On ground of intersecting highways, I would consolidate my alliances. (108)
However, Sun Tzu qualifies his instruction.
We cannot enter into alliances with neighboring princes until we are acquainted with their designs.
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Hence he—a warlike prince—does not strive to ally himself with all and sundry, nor does he foster the power of other states. He carries out his own secret designs, keeping his antagonists in awe. (108)
“Consolidation,” then is a hint at how one should conceptualize one’s reliance on others—as “other,” and not as individual friends. Any information divulged or trust extended to those who are devising plans of their own is likely to make it into the hands of the enemy. Therefore, it is best to view transient allies for what they are, auxiliaries. Bring them together and keep them in view so that none may position themselves behind you.
This is an important lesson for the individual as well as the general. In life, the people met and interacted with even on a daily basis are not kin or kith, they are acquaintances. Being such, though they may not betray one, they will certainly have no qualms vanishing the moment they are needed. If one counts on such shaky allies to watch his back or support him in dire circumstances, he is only inviting disaster and disappointment.
Speaking of disaster, Sun Tzu advises most interestingly as the situations become more dangerous.
On serious ground, gather in plunder.
In difficult ground, keep steadily on the march. On hemmed-in ground, resort to stratagem. On desperate ground, fight. (105)
Sun Tzu elaborates:
On serious ground, I would try to ensure a continuous stream of supplies. On difficult ground, I would keep pushing on along the road.
On hemmed-in ground, I would block any way of retreat. On desperate ground, I would proclaim to my soldiers the hopelessness of saving their lives. (108)
What?
Yes, Sun Tzu suggests that the deeper one plunges into to danger, the deeper he must march.
Place your army in deadly peril, and it will survive; plunge it into desperate straits, and it will come off in safety. (109)
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Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not achieve. (106)
This is the method by which Sun Tzu turns certain defeat into certain victory. Through understanding the nature of men’s psychological relationship to the constraints of circumstance, he can bring out the best in them, transforming disadvantage into advantage.
This is true for the individual in that, when one wants to martial the most of his ability, he puts himself between his object and a chasm. He gives himself no place to which to retreat. Often times, he goes further; he sets up consequences for failing to at his endeavor. Success is the carrot, and punishment (self-imposed or otherwise) is the stick—it is the whip which drives him ever faster forward.
Thus does a man make his fear and weaknesses complementary and compensatory to strength by contriving the situation as to befit his own psychological dispositions. Sun Tzu likens this to a snake:
Now the shuai-jan is a snake that is found in the Chung mountains. Strike at its head, and you will be attacked by its tail; strike at its tail, and you will be attacked by its head; strike at its middle, and you will be attacked by head and tail both.
Asked if an army can be made to imitate the shuai-jan, I should answer yes. For the men of Wu and the men of Yueh are enemies; yet if they are crossing a river in the same boat and are caught by a storm, they will come to each other’s assistance just as the left hand helps the right....
How to make the best of both strong and weak—that is a question involving the proper use of ground. (107)
Sun Tzu. The Art of War, translated by William Ridgeway, Sweetwater Press, 2008.
