Читать книгу Lessons in the Art of War - Martina Sprague - Страница 8

“Military tactics are like water; for water in its natural course runs away from high places and hastens downwards. Just as water retains no constant shape, so in war fare there are no constant conditions.”

— Sun Tzu

“Action in war, therefore, like that of a clock which is wound up, should go on running down in regular motion. But wild as is the nature of war it still wears the chains of human weakness.”

— Carl von Clausewitz

As mentioned in the introduction, if one wishes to understand the underlying laws of combat and the effectiveness of the martial arts, one must examine the historical context under which they developed. The fact that war and violence plagued China for thousands of years contributed to efforts put forth by the literati and military men to analyze the principles of war. Sun Tzu wrote the Art of War during the turbulent Warring States period from the fifth to third century BCE, when the ancient order in China was destabilized through shifting alliances. Unrest persisted into near modern day (Shanghai, in the early 1900s, was one of the most violent places in Asia) and contributed to the growth of the fighting arts. For example, wing chun, a style of kung-fu which focused primarily on defending against political turmoil and guerrilla warfare, was developed during the late Ming Dynasty (1368-1644 CE) for the purpose of fighting the forces of the invading Qing Dynasty (1644-1912 CE).¹ Wing chun practitioners use many short range techniques for trapping an opponent and neutralizing the attack. The art relies on aggressive forward pressure with focus on taking the most direct route from point of origin to target. Note that many Asian martial arts are several thousand years old, while others were introduced more recently. “Judo was born in 1882, and aikido in 1935. Taekwondo and hapkido were introduced in the 1940s and ’50s, even though they were based on much older systems.”²

In the West, Carl von Clausewitz’s On War was likewise a product of extensive interstate conflict. Although written at a much later date, it had roots in the Western military tradition dating to Classical Greece and Rome with emphasis on pitched battle in open terrain. Certain martial arts, such as ancient Greek boxing, were developed for the purpose of hardening the athletes for war and became brutal parts of Western athletic culture. The boxers were essentially head hunters fighting with spiked gloves. Since they did not fight by weight classification, physical size and strength were clear advantages.

Both Sun Tzu and Clausewitz viewed warfare as a form of political intercourse. When negotiations had fallen by the wayside and war was unavoidable, the state moved forward with the aim of ending the conflict as quickly as possible by attacking the enemy’s strategy and crippling his forces. However, political intercourse through physical violence is not limited to states going to war with one another but can be observed in any human group that concerns itself with the distribution of power and authority, and thus extends to individuals engaged in single man combat for reasons ranging from the preservation of honor to the defense of life. As noted by Clausewitz, war is personal combat on a larger scale and a fight should be taken to conclusion often by killing the adversary.³ Even societies that advocated Confucian ideals fought battles to the death.⁴ A soldier’s commitment to fight could be ensured by rousing his fighting spirit, or ch’i, before battle.⁵

Statue of ancient Greek boxer resting on a boulder after a match, from the Thermae of Constantine, third to second century BCE. Note the leather straps used by the boxer to protect the knuckles and increase the damaging power of the strike. (Image source: Marie-Lan Nguyen, Wikimedia Commons)

This chapter demonstrates that both Asian and Western combat arts were brutal activities designed primarily for fighting an enemy to the death; they were historically not about character building, spirituality, or self-perfection. The conduct of fighting changes with the introduction of new ideas (as observed, for example, when Royce Gracie won the Ultimate Fighting Championship I in 1993 through the use of Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, and started a trend among martial artists to seek grappling skills), but the nature of fighting remains constant regardless of the scale of the conflict or the types of weapons and techniques used. The nature of fighting is by definition unchanging and comprised of such entities as danger, exertion, uncertainty, and chance.

Key Points: Nature and Conduct of Combat

Although Sun Tzu’s and Clausewitz’s military theories display distinct differences, upon closer examination one can detect several subtle (and not so subtle) similarities in the practice of Asian and Western martial arts. The history and traditions of the martial arts reveal much about the culture of the people, the terrain or environment in which battle was fought, and the type of enemy one expected to face. How war is rendered in ancient Chinese writings is largely a result of Chinese culture. Although Confucian thought and the elevation of the literati over the warrior class contributed to the perception that China was resistant to war, that warfare could be rationalized and ended without bloodshed, and that conflicts could be solved through diplomacy, or at worst, coercion, any study of Chinese history will affirm that China was hardly a demilitarized country that took no interest in conquest and fought battles only as defensive measures.

Most of Chinese history is littered with accounts of wars of expansion as well as wars of unification, battles against invaders, and the forceful suppression of civil unrest and rebellions. Large portions of the Chinese populace owed military service to the state, which raised armies with troops numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Although the wu (military) and wen (civilian) spheres appear to be separate entities, they were tightly intertwined. The Ming Minister of War, Tan Lun (1520-1577 CE), said that “to have wen and not wu is to be a scholar behind the times/to have wu and not wen is to be an ignorant man.”⁶ Like the interdependence of the yin and the yang, military achievement could not exist without literary virtue, and vice versa. Confucian thinking influenced leaders to seek balance and restore things to their proper places. Although wen was considered a greater virtue than wu, a powerful man needed both.⁷

The Chinese texts further display a clear admiration for physical strength and boldness in battle. Although the army should be deployed with restraint, it should be deployed with determination once the decision was made to fight. It was not unusual in ancient China to sacrifice whole battalions deliberately in order to outsmart the enemy.⁸ Individuals engaged in single combat with the enemy were expected to demonstrate valor. For example, openly displaying weapons even if one never used them communicated that one was well-versed in martial tactics. The Hua Guan Suo Zhuan (the story of Hua Guan Suo), a recently rediscovered Chinese novel first printed in 1478 CE, contains a description of the twenty-four battles that the hero Guan Suo fought. When Guan Yu, Guan Suo’s father, suffered defeat and lost his sword into the deep water of a pond, Guan Suo who nearly died in battle had an experience of descending into hell where he was told that he must return for the sword if he were to score the victory. Following this call of duty, he recovered the renowned sword from the deep water of the pond.⁹ War was thus talked about as a restoration of harmony, but killing was its object and boldness its distinguished quality.

The nature of combat or its defining characteristic was evident in the first instant of fighting. A key principle of Sun Tzu’s teachings is that war is a matter of life and death, and it is this knowledge that motivates soldiers to fight and win. In single man combat, both fighters know that if neither gives way to the wishes of the other, the battle will be resolved by blood. Achieving victory without bloodshed is the ideal, yet the difficulties associated with such a feat should be clearly understood. As reinforced in the Chinese classic, T’ai Kung’s Six Secret Teachings, “If you can attain complete victory without fighting, without the great army suffering any losses, you will have penetrated even the realm of ghosts and spirits.”¹⁰

Although Sun Tzu stresses the importance of defeating the enemy through wisdom rather than force, a reason why he had more leeway for diplomacy than Clausewitz is because he wrote about battle before it had erupted, while Clausewitz analyzed it away from its ideal form. It was not compassion that prompted Sun Tzu to advocate winning without fighting, but the turbulent era in which he lived and his sparse resources. When he was appointed commander of the Wu army, he had to fight an enemy, the state of Ch’u in 511 BCE, which was many times larger.¹¹ He recognized that physical conflict would likely result in heavy losses, which would weaken his forces and prevent him from using full military strength if diplomacy fell by the wayside. War is destructive even for victors and leads to immense suffering, disease, starvation, and death. From the recognition of this fact grew also Sun Tzu’s favorable view on deception: to appear weak when you are strong and strong when you are weak. Taking prisoners instead of killing the enemy and convincing them to fight against their own was yet a way to increase the size of his forces, and was not done for the sake of compassion. Had the army that Sun Tzu commanded been numerically superior to the enemy, he might well have chosen a different foundation for the Art of War. It is also worth noting that the bureaucratic tradition in China opposed wars on financial grounds, because lengthy military campaigns would divert resources away from civil interests and jeopardize the civilian control of political matters.¹²

The misconception that China was a peaceful country is further grounded in the long battle history with the nomads or steppe people in their relentless attacks on the northern border. In order to place themselves above these “barbarians,” the Chinese people thought of their enemies in derogatory terms while promoting a civilized and educated culture at home. The old Chinese adage, “Good men are not used for soldiers, good iron is not used for nails,” demonstrates how one thought about the military profession.¹³ But this adage did not translate into action, as Chinese swords, for example, were made of the best steel available and were some of the most impressive pieces of weaponry ever crafted. Honorable practices on the battlefield may have been preached by the authorities, but once in the fray, soldiers did what was necessary to meet the demands of the situation. As in any army, they were influenced by feelings of fear, hate, anger, and uncertainty.

Modern sumo wrestlers. In ancient times, the object of sumo was not to win a sports competition but to slay the opponent through brutal tactics including head butting and striking. Like the ancient Greek boxers, sumo wrestlers were selected for their size, which runs contrary to the commonly propagated belief that the Asian martial arts rely on cunning and finesse over physical strength to defeat the adversary. (Image source: Eckhard Pecher, Wikimedia Commons)

Confucian and Buddhist undercurrents are not limited to China but can also be detected in the Japanese fighting arts. For example, shorinji kempo, established in 1947 after Japan’s defeat in World War II in an effort to raise the people’s spirit, teaches its practitioners to do whatever needs to be done to fend off an attacker, yet suggests that students should never initiate an attack but use the art only in self-defense.¹⁴ However, like their Chinese counterparts, the Japanese martial arts were developed for the purpose of killing the adversary. Sumo, also known as sumai, meaning struggle, its ancient form dating to the first century BCE with the goal of slaying the adversary, used tactics that included head butting, striking, and stomping the opponent to death.¹⁵ Although some modern martial artists advocate kinder ways of pacifying an attack, for example, by taking the adversary to the ground without hurting him, each fighter would historically use the maximum amount of force available to him.

As demonstrated in this print from the Bubishi, an early Chinese document about karate, so-called “dirty” fighting, such as clawing the eyes and pulling the hair, was permissible in the ancient Asian martial arts, which generally did not pit strength against strength but relied on gaining a tactical advantage over a stronger adversary. (Image source: Wikimedia Commons)

Jujutsu, or the “gentle art,” likewise utilized devastating techniques. (It was the motion, rather than the technique or intent that was gentle.¹⁶) Unlike judo, which is widely practiced for sports in modern day, the purpose of jujutsu was to give the samurai an option of ending the fight by maiming or killing the adversary with his bare hands. Should he lose his sword in the heat of battle or otherwise be unable to use it, the samurai would strike with his hands or use any means at his disposal. As described by Yamamoto Tsunetomo (1659-1719 CE), a samurai retainer who devoted his life to the service of his lord, “If his [the samurai’s] hands [were] cut off, he [would] press the enemy down with his shoulders. If his shoulders [were] cut away, he [would] bite through ten or fifteen enemy necks with his teeth.”¹⁷ As demonstrated through this passage, the traditional Japanese martial arts had origins in combat and included plenty of “dirty” fighting. Proper intent when going to war proved important, as reinforced by the famous Japanese swordsman Miyamoto Musashi: “Whenever you cross swords with an enemy you must not think of cutting him either strongly or weakly; just think of cutting and killing him. Be intent solely upon killing the enemy.”¹⁸

Even aikido, which was developed by Morihei Ueshiba (1883-1969 CE) from jujutsu and the sword arts and is sometimes considered not combat or even self-defense but a martial art that encompasses a higher spiritual dimension, is descended from combat arts that were very much intended for use when fighting an adversary to the death.¹⁹ Although the modern martial arts practitioner can find many benefits in the spiritual and sports aspects of his fighting style, according to karate great Fumio Demura, studying only for sport while ignoring the traditional elements of combat would be like studying only two chapters in a book: You will get half the picture but miss the gist of the art.²⁰ The same holds true for Chinese martial arts practiced mainly for showmanship or health, such as wushu or tai chi chuan, whose wartime roots should not be forgotten. Wushu literally means military art. And the covert elements of tai chi chuan, intended to prevent the adversary from anticipating when and how an attack will happen, will prevent him from planning a proper defense.²¹

Korean martial arts take a similar tack. As noted by one hapkido master, avoiding combat through diplomacy or by distancing oneself from the situation is the better way. But when the use of physical force is unavoidable, one should strive to end the fight as quickly as possible and strike to vulnerable targets such as the eyes, nose, and throat with the aim of doing damage. Full control is achieved when safety is reached through the destruction of the enemy forces. Ultimately, the measure of success is not whether you neutralize the attack by doing as little damage as possible, but whether you go home to your family.²²

In the West, tradition and culture likewise influenced how one viewed combat. Citizen soldiers in the Classical World were farmers when not on campaign. Campaigns had to be short since farms needed tending, which meant that battle was often brutal and fought with the goal of avoiding protracted war. Instead of relying on ambush, surprise, or prolonged battle trying to outsmart the enemy, the opposing forces met at a predetermined place and attacked each other head-on. The characteristics of the enemy determined the type of warfare one would fight. In contrast to the Chinese who faced the horse borne Mongols and used long range weapons such as bow and arrow, the Greeks and Romans fought in tight battlefield formations against enemy infantry with swords and other weapons.

Annihilation rather than war of attrition is thus the thread that has run through most of Western combat history. Mixed martial arts have roots in the athletic endeavors of the ancient Greeks. Pankration, which appeared in the Olympic Games in 648 BCE, is an attack-oriented martial style presented as a simulated form of no-holds-barred combat.²³ Although biting and eye-gouging are forbidden, it follows a Hellenic code that includes striking and kicking, submission holds and grappling. The Spartans employed a militaristic style of pankration not suitable for the Olympic Games, because the limitations of the Games, they believed, would have a negative effect on techniques used in live combat.²⁴ The Romans adopted pankration in the gladiatorial arena.²⁵

Pankration, an attack-oriented combat art developed in ancient Greece, displays similarities to the mixed martial arts of today. The fighters use a variety of striking, kicking, grappling, and submission techniques. (Image source: Matthias Kabel, Wiki-media Commons)

Brutally engaging the enemy and driving him to exhaustion, yet striving for a positional advantage, can be observed in Western combat sports such as kickboxing. For example, a fighter might kick an opponent’s lead leg repeatedly until he becomes apprehensive and tries to protect his leg by switching stance or blocking the kick. The fighter now takes advantage of his opponent’s weakness (fear and possibly an unstable stance) by throwing a knockout strike to his jaw. Whether the aim is to kill in actual battle or knock out an opponent in sports competition, the object is ultimately to funnel the forces toward the critical point, which Clausewitz called the center of gravity and which houses the enemy’s primary strength. A judo practitioner’s strength is his ability to throw an adversary to the ground; a jujutsu practitioner’s strength is his ability to execute a joint lock; a kickboxer’s strength is his ability to knock out his opponent with a strike or kick. A judoka who takes a powerful strike to the jaw or kick to the legs can no longer exercise his strongest tactics and strategy (a balanced throw); a kickboxer who has been taken to the ground by a judoka or jujutsu practitioner can no longer strike or kick with power.

Clausewitz’s emphasis on attacking the critical point should also be referenced to the fighters’ relative rather than absolute strength. In other words, he who enjoys numerical superiority can overrun the enemy army. In personal combat, a bigger or stronger person can overrun a physically inferior opponent like a tank, if the smaller person makes the mistake of pitting strength against strength. It is therefore particularly crucial for a person of inferior physical size or build to attack the enemy’s center of gravity. Note how this idea corresponds with Sun Tzu’s ideal of exploiting the enemy’s strength, for example, by yielding to his power and turning it against him, giving the physically inferior fighter a tactical advantage: “[J]ust as flowing water avoids the heights and hastens to the lowlands, so an army should avoid strength and strike weakness.”²⁶

Although renditions of Chinese battles focus on exploitation of opportunities and subduing the enemy through cleverness rather than physical strength, Sun Tzu was likewise an advocate of funneling the forces against the critical point. On this subject matter, the real test of Sun Tzu’s and Clausewitz’s theses lies in the definition of the critical point. Sun Tzu believed that the enemy’s center of gravity was his strategy or his plans, and foiling his plans would end the battle before it had begun (thus, winning without fighting). Attacking his strategy could also disrupt his focus by sabotaging his momentum. Clausewitz, by contrast, believed that the enemy’s center of gravity was his physical strength, and thus the destruction of his forces the primary objective on the grounds that an army that is physically destroyed cannot continue the fight.

Note that although Clausewitz recognized the power of offensive action in breaking the enemy’s will to resist by destroying his means to resist, he did not conceive of wars as just or unjust and therefore did not bother to discuss the morality of brutal offense. Since a nation has the right to fight for survival, he viewed all national wars as just. Likewise, when a person’s life is endangered or he risks serious bodily harm, fighting, even to the death, is justified. When morals are mixed with combat theories, rules dissolve into vague ideas. The conduct of war and the morality of war must therefore be discussed separately.

Sun Tzu and Clausewitz further recognized the constantly changing conditions of war; Sun Tzu by prescribing unorthodox tactics and the use of deceptive practices, and Clausewitz through the element of chance which can strike either belligerent and requires an ability to adapt. Sun Tzu took an abstract tack by comparing war to water: “And as water has no constant form there are in war no constant conditions.”²⁷ Like water, which takes the path of least resistance, the fighter should adapt to the terrain and circumstances and plan his strategy accordingly. Those skilled at using unorthodox strategy can provide a ceaseless number of surprises and become as “inexhaustible as the great rivers.”²⁸ Two millennia later, the Japanese swordsman Miyamoto Musashi compared combat to the elements of nature: ground, water, fire, wind, and void, and noted that, “[w]ater adopts the shape of a receptacle. It is sometime a trickle and sometimes a wild sea.”²⁹ It is from the water principle that formlessness is derived, or the idea that an army that has no set form cannot be defeated.

Since the nature of water dictates a downhill flow from high to low, from full to empty, a skillful military strategist preserves energy by going with the flow of the attack, countering to that which is “empty,” such as an opening in the opponent’s defense or a weakness in his stance, with conquest of the adversary coming by way of yielding to his power. Unlike Western boxing or wrestling which pits strength against strength and where physical size is a virtue, yielding to the opponent’s power allows a smaller or weaker person to defeat a bigger adversary, and is one of the core principles that makes the martial arts effective for men and women of inferior strength. Examples of the water principle can be observed in aikido, where the practitioner avoids frontal assault and blends with the opponent’s motion, redirecting his momentum, and taking advantage of his energy. Aikido also teaches mental flow. The purpose of mushin, or no mind (also the absence of thought), is to facilitate natural flow of body movements in order to speed up reflexes and reaction times.³⁰ Once the martial artist has redirected the opponent’s attack, his mind is ready to manage the next threat by avoiding prolonged fixation on the initial attacker. Judo, the art of throwing an opponent, likewise relies on blending the physical body with the flow of motion, joining one’s center of gravity with the opponent’s and thus combining both fighters in single motion.

Although aikido and judo fall under the category of “soft” arts, many martial arts in Asia were developed to break bones and end the fight as quickly as possible. They were not about humiliating the adversary or teaching him a lesson while letting him walk away physically unscathed. Flow, or taking the path of least resistance, is found in the brutal joint lock techniques of hapkido. The greater an adversary’s struggle against the lock, the greater is his pain. Every joint lock has a counter, yet a skilled martial artist can flow with the opponent’s motion and guide the “offending” limb into an excruciatingly painful position. A person well-versed in joint locks can almost always find an opportunity for transforming one lock into another as the need arises, using the opponent’s motion to tighten the lock and ultimately ending the encounter with a break or dislocation of the joint.

The water principle as used in hapkido also relates to relentless determination. Like the persistence of dripping water, which will eventually bore a hole in stone, the hapkido practitioner penetrates the opponent’s defenses while avoiding the direct power of his attacks. As described by hapkido grandmaster Bong Soo Han (1933-2007 CE), “There is an old saying: ‘To catch a tiger, you must go to the tiger’s lair.’ So in defense, to be effective, you must flow with the opponent. You must read his force—this will let you know what force you must apply as the appropriate counter.”³¹ Yielding to the force further relates to the Confucian and Daoist concept of yin and yang. Strong techniques are received gently, and gentle techniques are countered with powerful strikes. Crude techniques and strong contact result in clashing energies and create “double-weightedness, a condition that... violates the yin and yang... because both weapons [or fighters] are exerting yang force simultaneously.”³²

What is sometimes overlooked by the Western martial artist is that references to water, earth, birds, tigers, and other animals and elements of nature which are often found in the names of Asian martial arts techniques demonstrate an influence of local culture, tradition, religion, and philosophical thought. Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism propagated the belief that man is part of nature, and that nature is comprised of interacting forces that must be in balance to restore harmony. Just as life leads to death, war is the path to destruction but also the path to peace. Talking about techniques in terms of nature; for example, how to block an attack by “parting the wild horse’s mane,”³³ may seem confusing to the Western martial artist. But the technique differs only on the philosophical and not practical level. The Western martial arts utilize many techniques that are almost identical in execution to their Asian counterparts yet go by different names. For example, a reverse punch and a front kick can be found in most martial arts regardless of their place of origin.

In the same vein, although Sun Tzu used the word shuaijan (snake) for describing a successfully deployed army—“If you strike its head the tail will respond, if you strike its tail the head will respond. If you strike the middle both the head and tail will react”³⁴—he used the word as an analogy and did not mean to say that the army must study the movements of a snake in order to reach success in war. The Questions and Replies Between T’ang T’ai-Tsung and Li Wei-Kung further reveals that the meaning of heaven, earth, wind, clouds, dragons, tigers, birds, and snakes were not cleverly created formations in the images of animals, but code names for secret techniques:

The ancients secretly concealed [their] methods, so they craftily created these eight names... Dragons, tigers, birds, and snakes originated in the distinctions of the platoons and squads. Later generations erroneously transmitted them. If they were cleverly creating formations in the images of animals, why would they stop at eight?³⁵

Clausewitz viewed war as violent action and its defining characteristic unpredictability as a result of chance (friction) and human weakness. However, as those who are well-versed in the martial arts know through experience and empirical evidence, any theory or battle plan will likely fall apart when the first blows are exchanged. Although action in war will run down in regular motion and each move is designed to bring the martial artist closer to the objective, the means employed are intended to help him reach a defined end. Taking advantage of the enemy’s plans, position, and weapons, and adapting to changing circumstances is crucial to success. Again, Clausewitz underscored the importance of attacking the enemy’s center of gravity: “If the enemy is thrown off balance, he must not be given time to recover. Blow after blow must be struck in the same direction... by constantly seeking out his center of power, by daring all to win all, will one really defeat the enemy.”³⁶

Now that we have gained basic insight into Sun Tzu’s and Clause-witz’s battle philosophies, before proceeding with a deeper analysis of the martial arts it is important to acknowledge that war is an element of being human and is neither Asian nor Western in nature. A simple way to test this concept is by noting how a martial artist with some training under his belt can fight using Sun Tzu’s and Clausewitz’s principles of combat, even if he has never studied either strategist. Neither Sun Tzu nor Clausewitz introduced anything new in their writings but merely brought to light what has always existed. Despite the fact that they were separated in time by roughly 2,500 years and lived in different geographical regions, we can observe several similarities. For example, both Sun Tzu and Clausewitz discussed the importance of strategy, of laying the plans and mounting an attack when the enemy is weak. “It is the rule of war,” Sun Tzu stated, “if our forces are ten times the enemy’s to surround him; if five to one, to attack him.”³⁷ In a similar vein, Clausewitz stressed that “[t]he first rule [of war], therefore, should be: put the largest possible army into the field.”³⁸ Both Sun Tzu and Clausewitz gave weight to the natural flow of combat, its unpredictability and human weakness; Sun Tzu by relating war to water, yielding to the opponent’s power yet penetrating his defenses; and Clausewitz by recognizing the different tempos in fighting, the spurts and lulls in action, and the adjustments that must be made in accordance with the enemy’s capability to resist.

Although common stereotypes and popular notions of Asian and Western martial arts are often propagated, they are based on a superficial understanding of the history of war and strategic thought. Martial arts as different as taekwondo and wrestling were developed to answer the problems of their respective regions and circumstances, yet have roots in the common laws of combat. Human nature remains constant; thus, Clausewitz’s observation that war contains certain “permanent elements,” which, “on the basis of a realistic interpretation of the present and the past,” can be formed into a “comprehensive theory.”³⁹ Or as described several centuries earlier by Italian political philosopher Niccolo Machiavelli (1469-1527 CE): “Wise men say, and not without reason, that whoever wishes to foresee the future must consult the past; for human events ever resemble those of preceding times. This arises from the fact that they are produced by men who have ever been, and ever shall be, animated by the same passions, and thus they necessarily have the same results.”⁴⁰

At the core, combat is about forcing an enemy to succumb to one’s will. We might use different sets of weapons (in the martial arts, for example, empty hands, stick, or knife), and these weapons may eventually become outdated. But the experience of warfare, or the characteristics by which one recognizes combat, remains unaltered. The nature of war and the conduct of war are interdependent. The practical techniques used for defeating an enemy in combat (the conduct of war) cannot be developed unless one also understands the physical and mental elements of being human and which shape the nature of war. It is this recognition that has given Sun Tzu’s and Clausewitz’s writings such longevity. Their theories are based on a philosophical understanding of war and represent a nuanced approach to conflict that can be adapted to many forms of fighting. Hand-to-hand combat instructor W. Hock Hochheim grasped this idea well when he said:

The martial arts come in flavored packages. Strip them to the core and you’ll find many of the same techniques and strategies. Watch a fight that involves an Indonesian silat expert, a Japanese jujutsu master and a French savate fighter, and even though they will be dressed differently and might enter into close quarters differently, when it comes time to throw down, their physical steps will be similar. Those similarities are the universal tactics that constitute the essence of combat.⁴¹

As has been demonstrated in this chapter, Asian and Western martial arts originated as a result of threats to one’s life, but have been altered to suit participating civilians in modern society and often include elements of confidence building, spirituality, and sportsmanship. Martial arts in China date as far back as the time of the Yellow Emperor, from the twenty-sixth to the twenty-seventh century BCE. For example, the martial art of shuai chiao (also called “the mother of kung-fu”) includes striking, grabbing, and throwing techniques and was deemed brutally efficient. Although its roots extend to the military training exercises conducted during the reign of the Yellow Emperor, by the third century BCE, the art had become popularized and was practiced as entertainment also among civilians. A subset of the same art involves grabbing and throwing the attacker to the ground in the quickest way possible.⁴² Likewise, the original goal of the Korean martial art of taekwondo, which origins can be traced to the Koguryo Dynasty founded in 37 BCE, was not sports or exercise, but to destroy the enemy and end the threat, preferably quickly through a single kick or technique.⁴³

In the West, wrestling, which is several thousand years old and may be considered the most archaic form of fighting, no longer permits the practitioners to use techniques that were once designed to permanently injure or kill the adversary, such as joint twists against the knees or ankles, or techniques designed to break the opponent’s back or neck. Even no-holds-barred contests have been adjusted to minimize the risk of permanent injury or death by prohibiting biting, eye-gouging, and other severe techniques. These changes, which have made the fighting arts accessible to civilians, do not diminish the fact that the martial arts were developed for combat, often to the death. According to Tamas Weber, a decorated veteran of the French Foreign Legion, who has studied the martial arts since 1951, “The bottom line is that karate-do is a violent art. Because of the times of peace we are living in, however, a part of that art can be used as an enjoyable sport activity. The important point here, though, is not to lose the direction and real meaning of the training.”⁴⁴ As echoed long ago by Thucydides, an ancient Greek historian of the fifth century BCE, “Peace is best secured by those who use their strength justly, but whose attitude shows that they have no intention of submitting to wrong.”⁴⁵