Chapter 69

Original Text

用兵有言。吾不敢為主而為客。不敢進寸而推尺。是謂行無行。攘無臂。仍無敵執無兵。禍莫大於輕敵。輕敵幾喪吾寶。故抗兵相加。哀者勝矣。

Translation

In the use of troops, there is a saying: "I dare not act as host but act as guest. I dare not advance an inch but retreat a foot." This is called marching without marching, baring arms without arms, closing with the enemy without an enemy, grasping weapons without weapons. No calamity is greater than taking the enemy lightly. Taking the enemy lightly nearly destroys my treasure. Therefore, when opposing armies engage, the one who grieves shall be victorious.

Word Notes

• 仍 — "to close with / to confront": means "because of" or "on account of," implying engagement and confrontation.
• 抗 — "to oppose": means to resist and oppose; hostile opposition, mutual engagement.

Chapter Explanation

In the use of troops there is a vital saying: I dare not be the one who initiates hostilities but rather be the one who responds to the enemy. I dare not advance even one inch, but rather retreat a full foot. Although one deploys troops, one does not harbor a heart that delights in killing. It is as though one were not marching troops at all. Although one thrusts oneself forward, it is as though one had no arms to bare. Although battle and killing follow from one another, it is as though there were no enemy. Although one holds weapons, it is as though one held no weapons at all. Of all the calamities under Heaven, none is greater than arising from taking the enemy lightly and delighting in war. To take the enemy lightly and delight in war is to destroy the lifeblood of one's own state. Therefore, when two armies face each other across their ramparts and engage, the one who does not lightly open hostilities and who grieves at human death — that one wins the battle.

Discourse

There are those in the world who interpret Laozi together with the Classic of the Hidden Talisman as works on military strategy. Looking at these several chapters, they are indeed military strategy. Not only these chapters — if one reads the entire scripture as military strategy, that too is perfectly valid. This is because Laozi's words do not fall into fixed traces. The wise see wisdom in it; the humane see humaneness in it. Take the Confucian Book of Changes and the first chapter of the Analects: depending on the time, the place, and the person, they can be interpreted in any number of ways. How could they be seen merely as military strategy?

Yet interpreting them as military strategy has deep origins. The study of Dao has its headwaters in the Yellow Emperor. Our nation's culture, along with its agriculture and manufacturing, also has its headwaters in the Yellow Emperor. Thus the study of Dao is the vanguard of all learning, and also the great method for governing the state and bringing peace to all under Heaven. In governing the state, whether to eliminate tyranny or to resist enemies, one cannot avoid using troops. Therefore the study of Dao is also the source from which military science springs. But the military science of the Daoist school is fundamentally different from that of later military specialists. The Daoist school takes retreat as advance, takes not fighting as fighting, takes not killing as victory. Its essential meaning lies in not lightly initiating hostilities and thereby provoking the terrible calamity of war and slaughter.

I, this young student, upon close examination of its central purpose, find it is not merely compassion and magnanimity. It is that Laozi had thorough insight into the Dao of Heaven and human feeling. All who delight in war and relish killing — regardless of how strong the state or how brave the army — in the end will certainly meet with defeat. To kill others is precisely to kill oneself. To destroy others is precisely to destroy oneself. This is why one dares not do otherwise.

Let me attempt to explain by way of the Dao of Heaven and human feeling.

First, from the standpoint of the Dao of Heaven. Heaven takes a liking for life as its De. The Dao of Heaven is the way of what is so of itself. It generates and brings forth the myriad beings. When any among the myriad beings grows and flourishes in excess, it begins to benefit its own life at the expense of other beings' lives. At that point, Heaven loathes its excess and puts an end to it. In truth, it is not Heaven that kills it — it kills itself.

How so? All beings receive Heaven's qi and are thereby born. All possess the De of cherishing life. The De of cherishing life is called humaneness. With humaneness, one can grow and flourish. Confucius said: "The humane are long-lived." When a being's growth reaches its peak of vigor, its vital impulse dissipates outward, and the humaneness within is lost. To lose humaneness is to lose one's Heaven-endowed nature. To lose one's Heaven-endowed nature is to die. This is why Laozi repeatedly says: "What has grown vigorous then grows old. This is called departing from Dao. What departs from Dao comes to an early end."

Moreover, Heaven's cherishing of life is a cherishing of the myriad beings — not merely the cherishing of a single being. Those who hold the cherishing of life in their hearts — Heaven assists them. Those who take killing as a glory — Heaven certainly loathes them. Those who are weak — Heaven certainly protects and shelters them. From this vantage, all who delight in war and relish violence are pursuing the path of death.

Second, from the standpoint of human feeling. No father fails to love his son and wish for his son to grow and thrive. No son fails to be filial to his father and to grieve bitterly at his father's death. If one lightly initiates hostilities, one will inevitably kill the sons of others and kill the fathers of others.

Kill a man's son — that father's love for his child is acute and utterly sincere. Being utterly sincere, his qi will be brave. He will be fierce and unafraid of death. Consider even the smallest birds and beasts — if their young are harmed without cause, they will rise up against even those they ordinarily fear. How much more so for a human being! King Tang of Shang destroyed the state of Ge because its lord killed his boy. This is precisely the reason.

Kill a man's father — that son's grief at his father's death is extreme. Being extremely grieved, his qi will be fierce. In fury he will disregard his own life. There are those who, to avenge a father, as a lone commoner dare to assassinate the lord of ten thousand chariots. How much more so when state opposes state! Fuchai, grieving his father's death, defeated the state of Yue. This is evidence from the past.

Alas! Killing one boy brought the calamity of a state's destruction. Killing one man's father led to becoming a slave of a destroyed state. How much more so when they fight to seize a city and the slain fill the city; they fight to seize territory and the slain fill the fields! When one has killed the fathers, brothers, and sons of multitudes, can one not bring upon oneself the calamity of state-destruction and racial annihilation?

This is why Laozi says: "With compassion, if one goes to battle, one conquers." And: "When opposing armies engage, the one who grieves shall be victorious."

From these two lines of reasoning, Laozi's esteeming Dao and De and abhorring war is not pedantic and impractical. Nor is it a woman's tenderness. To love another's state is precisely how one loves one's own state. To love another's people is precisely how one loves one's own people. Even when he has no choice but to use troops, it must be a punitive expedition to save the people — an army of compassion — not a use of military force to expand power.