“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.” – Sun Tzu, “The Art of War”
The name of the military strategy work, The Art of War, has long been a tantalizing title. The idea of combining art in all its creation and war in all its destruction can seem polarizing. By definition, art is “the quality, production, expression or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing.” Scrolling through multiple definitions on dictionary.com, war is listed not only as a conflict or contest, but also as “armed fighting, as a science, profession, activity, or art; methods or principles of waging armed conflict.”
Our current view of war does not seem to have aesthetic principles of what is beautiful. Recent commentary by Brian Williams, MSNBC news announcer, that the recent U.S. missile launch on Syria looked like “beautiful pictures at night” did not fare well with many Americans. The photos that preceded the missiles, those of Syrians killed by a chemical attack, did not lend themselves to any description of beauty or art. Movies and books can link art to war in descriptions, character development and intriguing plot lines, yet that link can seem tenuous in times of most intensity. Only by setting aside the atrocities of war could you stretch your view to see beauty in the efforts of those trying to help the victims of war. One of Mr. Rogers’ most-famous quotes emulates this: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”
The Art of War was written in the 5th century BC by Chinese military strategist Sun Tzu. Seen as a definitive work, Tzu’s text contains thirteen chapters with topics such as Waging War, Intelligence and Espionage, and Attacking with Fire. Dramatic titles and direct advice such as: “When the enemy is relaxed, make them toil. When full, starve them. When settled, make them move” makes the book a difficult read for those not in a military mindset and difficult to find an artistic slant.
One way we can more easily appreciate the art of military movements is through the examination of martial arts. The influence on martial arts on Chinese culture has permeated generations and many genres, both artistic and warlike. “A History and Style Guide of Kung Fu” by Robert Rousseau describes the importance of Chinese martial arts within the culture. Citing both philosophical and spiritual significance, Rousseau says martial arts were developed in China, like in most cultures, for hunting and protection purposes. China’s Yellow Emperor Huangdi took the throne in 2698 B.C. and began to formalize the arts; inventing a form of wrestling taught to military troops. “Along with this,” says Rousseau, “the Chinese martial arts grew alongside the ideas of Confucianism and Taoism during the Zhou Dynasty (1045 B.C.- 256 B.C.) and beyond, not in isolation from them.” In other words, art, philosophy and military tactics in China were already beginning to meld.
Buddhism came to China between 58-76 A.D, as well as the introduction of kung fu. Sometimes-forceful, sometimes-gentle and elegant, kung fu is a beautiful mixture of art and “war” techniques. There are many forms of martial arts, and Rousseau says that while kung fu originally was a popular and effective form of protection, it was no match for the introduction of guns and bullets, teasing that perhaps art is no weapon for war.
Seeing the physical movements of martial artists is not like watching missiles fall from the sky or bullets cut through an army. In our current American culture of speed and efficiency, and the multitude of vantage points, angles and media sources, the idea of an art to war is almost impossible to fathom.
Sun Tzu saw war through the lenses of both strategy and art: “Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain.” Those are poetic words from an author writing a book about war. To add more colors to the argument, Tzu also writes: “The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.” Like life, Tzu combines the contrasting elements of both beauty and beast and the human desire to understand and conquer.