Lessons in the Art of War. Martina Sprague
at a judo tournament in California in 2006, Brazilian Jiu-jitsu fighter Royce Gracie dragged him by the belt and one leg back to the center of the mat. Although refusing to engage the adversary in competition is considered a negative martial arts trait, outside of the competition arena restraint should be used. As Clausewitz and Sun Tzu reminded us, war is no pastime and the dead cannot be brought back to life.
A preplanned approach to victory lends strength to the idea of seizing and holding the initiative, but depends on the ability to adapt to changing circumstances when plans are foiled. Sun Tzu and Clausewitz agreed that knowledge of the opponent’s objectives (such as winning by point or knockout in sports competition, or robbing, raping, maiming, or killing on the street) is crucial in order to achieve victory. Without this knowledge, one cannot determine the conduct of battle or the tactics and strategy, because one cannot define what victory means. Furthermore, victory cannot be secured unless the martial artist understands his physical and mental capabilities, the opponent’s objectives, and, perhaps most importantly, what is worth fighting for. Assessing the environment and political climate to determine if it is supportive of your cause allows you to establish insights into your and your opponent’s respective strengths and weaknesses. Royce Gracie deceived his opponents in the Ultimate Fighting Championship, because nobody believed that this person of a rather small physical build would have the capacity to beat a bigger opponent. But the same deceptive practices do not work every time. Once Gracie had revealed his strengths, his opponents learned how to exploit them in future tournaments.
In order to bring further meaning to the definition of war, fighting should be viewed as neither a complete science (knowledge) nor a complete art (ability to utilize knowledge). Science is the act of knowing, and art is the act of doing. Science requires theoretical education. But art, as a rational process and a mark of intellect and character, requires practical experience and judgment.15 Since war is a conflict of interest, it adheres to a balanced relationship between science and art. Sun Tzu recognized this relationship through the cheng (the physical or conventional forces) and ch’i (the mental or creative forces). Compare, for example, physical strength or power as derived from size and momentum with power as derived from proper timing. A martial artist who has the benefit of size may choose cheng, or conventional forces, to overrun the opponent; if not, he may choose ch’i, or unconventional forces, to lure the opponent forward into a perfectly timed counterstrike. Sun Tzu said, “When torrential water tosses boulders, it is because of its momentum; when the strike of a hawk breaks the body of its prey, it is because of timing.” Both have their place in the martial arts. A skilled fighter can display the physical potential of a “fully drawn crossbow,” and simultaneously exercise timing that is as sharp as “the release of the trigger.”16
Note that although Sun Tzu relied on a prescriptive rather than descriptive theory of warfare, it is unlikely that his intent was to memorize an answer to every problem. A more plausible explanation for this approach is that he wanted to provide the reader with the ability to recognize “identifiable, recurring patterns as they emerge.”17 Many of his ideas are not deeply developed in writing, yet have intellectual depth which forces the reader to interpret and think about the scenarios inherent in each idea. Rules should thus be guidelines to which the martial artist applies his or her judgment.
Clausewitz likewise understood the relationship between science and art, and the creative element inherent in warfare by recognizing that the “step is always long from cognition to volition, from knowledge to ability.”18 Although he used scientific terms such as friction and center of gravity in his descriptions of war, they were meant to be used as analogies and not relied upon in a literal scientific sense. He professed that no set prescription for success exists. During his service at the War College in Berlin in 1818 and 1819, he criticized the program for being too focused on rote learning, which he believed would hinder individual initiative and adaptation.19 Physical combat, he stated, is the only way through which one can make sense of war, because “the state of circumstances from which an event proceed[s] can never be placed before the eye of the critic exactly as it [lies] before the eye of the person acting.”20
The soldier thus takes the weapons he is handed and does the best he can with what he has available at the time of the engagement. He is not interested in the technology behind weapon making, for example, at least not as a primary reason for his profession. Likewise, the martial artist has two hands and two feet which he uses for striking, kicking, grabbing, and trapping while adapting through creative means the best he can. While his only concern may be blocking a strike as the enemy reaches out toward him, he may realize that he can trap the arm instead and execute a lock against the wrist, bringing the enemy to his knees and ending the fight. A martial artist who gets knocked to the ground unexpectedly while raising a leg to kick, may find an opportunity for trapping the opponent’s lower legs and bringing him down. It is this creativity which occurs at the spur of the moment that relates to the art of war. As reinforced by the nineteenth century German military historian Max Jähns (1837-1900 CE):
[T]he science of war describes the means available to wage war at any given time and derives from them theories on how war should be conducted. It can never reach an ultimate form because the means are constantly changing. It is, therefore, [a] (science of experience) rather than a science of external truths. The art of war, by contrast, is the application of a theory of war to specific situations and requires creativity and intuition on the part of the practitioner which cannot be taught.21
The relationship between science and art suggests that the reality of war cannot be measured through theoretic learning alone. The martial artist can read any number of books and watch any number of instructional videos, but if he fails to gain practical experience he will never fully understand the combat arts. Timing, for example, can be understood in a theoretical sense, but it takes considerable practice to acquire it. Or as martial arts instructor Keith Vargo says, “Science can help us understand and improve our arts,” but it takes art to sum up “the fighting skill of an individual.”22
Even as a balance is struck between science and art in training, the enemy’s will is difficult to control and the element of chance can strike either belligerent. In ideal war, all moves are interrelated and advance one closer to victory. Ideally, the attack should be directed at the heart of the enemy’s strength, using maximum concentration of force and avoiding pauses. In the martial arts, ideal war can be related to a kick or punch combination. Consider first if the combination is logical. For example, would a roundhouse kick naturally follow a strong side thrust or spinning back kick and still be effective when kicking a live target? Would the opponent be in position to absorb both kicks, or would he be too close or too far away? Would an uppercut logically follow a front kick, or would the distance to the target be inappropriate?
Ed Parker’s (1931-1990 CE) style of kenpo karate uses checks and strikes to secondary targets designed to position the opponent’s body for the finishing blow. One might check the adversary’s arm, for example, in order to bring his body forward to receive a reverse ridge hand strike to the throat. Although the idea is sound, it only works if the opponent reacts as intended to the set-up strike. All unforeseen factors will quickly render theory insufficient, as you will learn when your training partners deviate even slightly from the prescribed attack. If the attack calls for a right punch and your partner throws a left punch instead, or a right punch to a different target than the one called for, or a kick, the specific defense you have practiced will not work as prescribed. You must now adapt instantly, using your creative forces to secure victory.
Although Clausewitz like Sun Tzu took an abstract tack in his analysis of war, he recognized that combat reflects the uncertainty of the real world and did not attempt to describe a metaphysical world. Nor did he profess that it is possible to reach an ideological solution to conflict. Studying strategic principles allows the martial artist to evaluate what is ideal and what is real in combat, and discover that how we talk about war is not how it ultimately happens. The martial artist must be prepared to make modifications when passing from theory to reality. While the intent is to “cripple the enemy’s forces, so that he cannot, or cannot without danger to his existence, carry on the [battle],” combat is susceptible to chance and the nature of conflict is inherently unpredictable.23
Although the