Manuevering

The difficulty in tactical maneuvering consists in turning the devious into the direct, and misfortune into gain.

Thus, to take a long and circuitous route, after enticing the enemy out of the way, and though starting after him, to contrive to reach the goal before him, shows knowledge of the artifice of deviation. (Sun Tzu 66)

The ultimate Way is the one by which evil and tragedy are transformed into meaningful experience. Sun Tzu’s particular way is that of war, though it courses parallel with the universal way—the way of the universe. An attitude that attains victory is one which interprets all events in terms of its own advantage.

In order to successfully transmute lead into gold, one must being willing to diverge from one’s current understanding. In other words, one must deviate from his previous course of thinking and action. He must be willing to begin again and assess anew the situation in which he finds himself. He must be humble and open to strategies that run counter to his intuition. This is being devious. To deviate means to bend and turn along with the serpentine curves of the river that is the ever-flowing, ever-fluxing current of time.

In war, practice dissimulation, and you will succeed. Whether to concentrate or to divide your troops must be decided by circumstances. (66)

But it is not a simple matter, to successfully deviate from established patterns of thought or behavior. In combat or at the level of personal enlightenment, almost all deviations from the former path with only lead to further losses—further becoming lost. Order is necessary, and most often much of the old structure will remain as foundation or at least scaffolding for what is to come. This order is called discipline, and without it, one rushes recklessly off into the darkness.

Maneuvering with an army is advantageous; with an undisciplined multitude, most dangerous. (66)

The reckless rush is the error of the novice, though it often haunts individuals well into their seniority. Discipline is difficult, and there is a temptation in deviation toward libertine freedom from responsibility and constraint. The reality, however, is that nature dictates the circumstances, and the situation determines the correct way of deviating. It is not a matter of whim nor of force of will. For instance, even if a general possesses the means to drive men beyond their natural proclivities, the outcome will be in accord with human nature, not in accordance with his desires.

If you set a fully equipped army in march in order to snatch an advantage, the chances are you will be too late.

On the other hand, to detach a flying column for the purpose involves the sacrifice of its baggage and stores.

Thus, if you order your men to roll up their buff-coats, and make forced marches without halting day or night . . . the leaders of all three divisions will fall into the hands of the enemy. . . . On this plan only one tenth of your army will reach its destination. (66)

Furthermore:

Now a soldier’s spirit is keenest in the morning; by noonday it has begun to flag; and in the evening, his mind is bent only on returning to camp.

A clever general, therefore, avoids an army when its spirit is keen, but attacks it when it is sluggish and inclined to return. This is the art of studying moods. (68)

And so we encounter a paradox. Success requires novelty, a deviation from past ways of thinking and acting; however, successful deviation requires conformity with the natural order of things. The solution to this contradiction rests in the transient nature of the transcendental. The world is that-which-is, but that-which-is is not a static thing containable by our limited understanding. The ineffable is so because it is greater than our fallible human understanding. We can only do our best to listen to it, to attune our thoughts and actions as to sound in greater harmony.

Thus concessions must be made. The wills of the individuals involved must be accounted for in one’s calculations. Likewise, one’s own multitudinous wills—those impulses and drives born from the instincts—must be integrated via satiation via rewards for integrous behavior.

When you plunder a countryside, let the spoil be divided amongst your men; when you capture new territory, cut it up into allotments for the benefit of the soldiery. (66)

This lesson is also true of the enemy. While one may be tempted toward the glory of crushing one’s foe, it is a mistake which does not account for the incentives of the human on the other side. That same can be said for the psyche of the individual. If there is no outlet for expression, men become desperate and psychologically capable of anything. They can even turn into monsters, just as the meek cornered dog becomes ferocious. The human shadow is no different. Raw and tyrannical suppression of the instincts only results in them exploding out at moments of weakness. It is better to consider these factors ahead of the events and to maneuver accordingly.

Do not pursue an enemy who simulates flight.

Do not attack soldiers whose temper is keen.

Do not swallow bait offered by the enemy.

Do not interfere with an army that is returning home.

When you surround an army, leave an outlet free.

Do not press a desperate foe too hard. Such is the art of warfare. (68)

Sun Tzu. The Art of War, translated by William Ridgeway, Sweetwater Press, 2008.