The Use of Spies

Raising a host of a hundred thousand men and marching them great distances entails heavy loss on the people and a drain on the resources of the State. The daily expenditure will amount to a thousand ounces of silver. There will be commotion at home and abroad, and men will drop down exhausted on the highways. As many as seven hundred thousand families will be impeded in their labor. ...

Thus, what enables the wise sovereign and the good general to strike and conquer, and achieve things beyond the reach of ordinary men, is foreknowledge.

Know this foreknowledge cannot be elicited from spirits; it cannot be obtained inductively from experience, nor by and deductive calculation. Knowledge of the enemy’s dispositions can only be obtained from other men.

Hence the use of spies... (Sun Tzu 125)

It is as fitting as it is unexpected that Sun Tzu leads with a moral case for the use of spies. At first, this might strike proud and honorable types as counter-intuitive at best and cowardly at worst. However, Master Sun deft dispenses with such prejudices.

The reality is that war, while being the primary function of the state, is—like the state—evil. Perhaps it is a necessary evil, required to impose order on a greater evil, namely chaos—but it is wicked nonetheless. During a war, throngs of men are plucked from their useful labors. Resources are devoured; diseases spread; and blood is shed, both civilians’ and combatants.

The best battles are the ones that need not actually be fought, and the best wars begin and end swiftly with the fewest casualties on either side.

This is what justifies the use of individual spies, spooks, and even assassins. Perhaps these underhanded tactics of deception are in fact dishonorable, but such must be the case when in conflict with bad-faith actors. The reality is that if war begins, then negotiations have long since failed.

The reality is—continually, Sun Tzu urges his sovereign and fellow generals to plan and act in accordance with that-is-which is. Ritual, history, and theory are useful in their proper circumstances, but they are mere shadows on the wall. They are not equal to the-thing-itself: and the closest a sovereign or general can get to the reality on the ground is a firsthand account of a man who has been there—a spy.

There are five classes: (1) Local spies; (2) inward spies; (3) converted spies; (4) doomed spies; (5) surviving spies.

...

Having local spies means employing the services of the inhabitants of a district.

Having inward spies means making use of officials of the enemy.

Having converted spies means getting hold of the enemy’s spies and using them for our own purposes.

Having doomed spies means doing certain things openly for purposes of deception, and allowing out spies to know of them and report them to the enemy.

Surviving spies, finally, are those who bring back news from the enemy’s camp. (125)

It can be seen here that Sun Tzu defines spies rather broadly. Only the final classification, surviving spies, fits the modern notion now in the west. But to General Sun, even normal people can be employed as local spies. The enemy’s agents are his own doomed spies as well, as are the enemy’s inward allies.

The broadening of the concept allows for easy extrapolation to this principle outside its utility in war. For instance, in a competitive enterprise, it does one well to know who his competitor’s friends are, to know who is trying to take advantage of him, and to know who is genuinely trying to help him out.

Whether in war or peace, the most important form of spy is the converted spy:

It is through the information brought by a converted spy that we are able to acquire and employ local and inward spies.

It is owing to his information, again, that we can cause the doomed spy to carry false tidings to the enemy.

Lastly, it is by his information that the surviving spy can be used on appointed occasions. (126)

“Why is the converted spy so necessary for the other forms of intelligence gathering?” one might ask. It follows from the same principle one sees in individual combat. The consistent victor cannot rely on brute strength. He cannot even rely on raw skill, for there is always someone better, and a single man is not even his own equal on a different day. Therefore, one must learn to turn his opponent’s energy against him.

In war, this means the capture and recruitment of enemy soldiers and spies. These are one’s greatest assets, as they are trusted by the enemy and familiar with him. Hence how they open roads to collecting information from the enemy’s population and nobility. Likewise, it is by these converted spies that one knows when an enemy is about to strike and where or what his goals are. With this information, one can know whether or not his doomed spies are believed by the enemy, and he can therefore trust that his surviving spies are not themselves doomed.

In life, the same pattern applies. One should make friends with his rival and especially his rival’s friends. He should get close to them, gain their trust and favor, even their genuine friendship. If their original loyalties have good reason to fault, then they will come to see the wise tactician as more worthy of their devotion. It follows, then, that when the wise general enters the competition openly, the good men will flock to him, and these converted spies will help to protect him from the opportunistic enemy doomed spies.

Sun Tzu sums it thusly:

Whether the object be to crush an army, to storm a city, or to assassinate an individual, it is always necessary to begin by finding out the names of the attendants, the aides-de-camp, and doorkeepers and sentries of the general in command. Our spies must be commissioned to ascertain these. (126)

And thus draws to a close Sun Tzu’s Art of War. Over the course of these meditations, General Sun has advised more than anything else for the wise leader to value intelligence. More specifically, he should value information as to the particular truths in each and every case. General Sun warns against flights of subjectivity or the self-destructive adherence to tradition or theory. Each case is its own, and each must be assessed for what it is, not what anyone wishes it to be. Such wishful thinking or blind obstinance is the enemy’s opening through which victory can be obtained—but first one must properly attend: he must open himself and act in accordance with the true Way of things. That is the essence of the art of war.

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