International Symposium on Military Strategy, Daoist Arts, and State Governance

This report explores the intricate relationship between creativity, sincerity, and foreknowledge in the context of Sun Tzu’s Art of Warfare. It argues that victory in warfare is not merely a matter of tactics or strength, but rather a dynamic process of co-creating the future through innovative strategies. Drawing on Roger Ames' interpretation of Chinese classics, the article posits that true creativity is a manifestation of one’s natural tendencies, enabling the strategist to achieve unexpected outcomes. By understanding warfare as an art of creation, the article highlights the necessity of overcoming not only the enemy but also oneself, advocating for a revolution of thought and approach. Ultimately, the mastery of warfare lies in the ability to navigate complexities and collaboratively shape the future of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity.

One of the most renowned and frequently cited phrases from The Art of War states: “Warfare is the art (tao) of deceit” rendered in the original Chinese as 兵者，诡道也. In modern Chinese, the term 诡道 (guǐ dào) can carry multiple connotations, the most prevalent being associated with deception, trickery, or cunning. Consequently, the standard translation of this phrase into contemporary Chinese is 军事，是诡诈之道. However, does the word “deceit” fully capture the nuances and depth embedded within the character 诡 in this context?

While “deceit” reflects one facet of 诡, the term in classical Chinese thought may encompass a broader spectrum of meanings. In the strategic wisdom of Sun Tzu, 诡 might not solely imply moral condemnation, but rather an adaptive, fluid form of wisdom. This strategic flexibility aligns with the Daoist notion of harmony with change and uncertainty, suggesting that 诡道 represents not only deception but also the astute recognition and utilization of shifting circumstances. Thus, the term might better be understood as “the art of subtle stratagem” or “the path of adaptive ingenuity,” emphasizing a nuanced form of intelligence over mere trickery.

This interpretation invites a deeper inquiry: does 诡, as used in the ancient text, represent a necessary tool of survival and success in the chaos of warfare? Or does it reflect a broader philosophical outlook on the nature of conflict itself, where adaptation and perception outweigh brute force? Such questions resonate with both Confucian and Daoist principles, where navigating the complexities of human affairs requires both insight and ethical discernment.

Deception, at its core, relies on the enemy’s lack of knowledge concerning the five fundamental criteria that determine the outcome of war: integrity, time, terrain, discipline, and abilities (道，天，地，將，法). While some of these elements can be obscured or altered during the course of warfare, others, such as climate and terrain, possess an objective reality that is generally well-known to both sides, placing natural limits on their strategic options. Though certain maneuvers may temporarily deceive, once they are executed, they inevitably reveal themselves to all parties involved. Thus, the ninth chapter of The Art of Warfare provides explicit guidance on reading and interpreting the behavior of one’s enemies. As such, strategies relying on specific tricks or deceptions cannot be used more than once. Deception, then, is relatively easy to uncover, and for this reason, it cannot constitute the essence of the true Art of Warfare.

In the modern era, this observation becomes even more pronounced. Today, not only are detailed maps of terrain and climate readily accessible to both sides, but the movement of troops and even the mood of the populace can be monitored with relative ease. The contemporary battlefield is marked by a high level of transparency, creating conditions where real adversaries possess almost equal access to crucial information. In such a context, effective deception becomes exceedingly difficult, if not impossible.

This leads us to reconsider the ancient principle: “He who knows the enemy and himself will never in a hundred battles be at risk” (知彼知己，百战不殆). In a world where knowledge flows freely and equally between both sides, this maxim faces a paradox. When both parties are equally informed, the art of warfare seems to reach a point of stasis—a stalemate—where neither can gain the upper hand through traditional strategies of deception or superiority of knowledge.

Furthermore, one who deceives even once earns the reputation of a deceiver, and with that, trust in them diminishes significantly. In the context of warfare, this limitation might seem negligible, as both sides enter the conflict with the understanding that neither can be fully trusted, and this same distrust is reciprocated. However, this mutual awareness introduces a new layer of complexity. The well-known principle, “When able, seem unable; when ready, seem unready; when nearby, seem far away; when far away, seem nearby” (能而示之不能，用而示之不用，近而示之远，远而示之近), while profound, serves as a highly abstract guideline rather than a direct, practical instruction to reverse every situation. The constant deceiver, one who continuously manipulates perceptions, becomes predictable, and his strategies are eventually laid bare.

Sun Tzu himself acknowledges this in his assertion: “An army does not have fixed strategic advantages or an invariable position. To be able to achieve victory by adapting one’s position according to the enemy’s movements is called being inscrutable” (故兵无常势，水无常形；能因敌变化而取胜，谓之神). But what, then, does it mean to “have no fixed form?” As previously discussed, there are objective limitations—time and terrain—that shape the decisions of both sides in a conflict. These factors act as immutable constraints, directing the flow of actions regardless of strategic cunning.

In this context, the challenge lies in mastering the art of warfare when any act of deception is likely to be swiftly uncovered. As Sun Tzu’s famous maxims suggest, adaptability is key. But adaptability does not mean simply oscillating between opposites in a mechanical fashion. Instead, it refers to the deeper skill of recognizing when and how to shift strategies, not based solely on the enemy’s immediate perceptions, but on a comprehensive understanding of both the external environment and the internal capacities of one’s own forces. This is where the true art of warfare emerges—not in the repetition of deceit, but in the capacity to act in harmony with the constantly shifting dynamics of reality, balancing between the known and the unknown, the fixed and the flexible.

Furthermore, in the modern era, where the transparency of battlefield movements and technological surveillance make deception harder to sustain, the emphasis on adaptability becomes even more critical. In a situation where both parties possess nearly equal access to knowledge, the “inscrutable” nature of warfare is not found in mere trickery but in the art of outmaneuvering the opponent through deeper insights, anticipation, and timing. Victory belongs to those who can transcend the limitations of predictable strategies and evolve their methods in ways that cannot be easily discerned or countered.

What, then, becomes the true essence of warfare in such conditions? If the art of deceit is rendered ineffective by mutual transparency, the focus must shift from the manipulation of ignorance to a deeper understanding of adaptation, flexibility, and the ethical dimensions of conflict. In this sense, the mastery of warfare might lie not in what can be concealed, but in the ability to navigate the inevitable exposure of all strategies, embracing the complexities of human confrontation with wisdom and foresight.

From this point of view, to “have no fixed form” (无常形) means to master the fluidity of thought, to understand that warfare is not a static contest of moves and countermoves, but a living process that demands constant reassessment and recalibration. The true Art of War lies not in deception itself, but in the ability to remain ever-adaptive, seizing opportunities as they arise while navigating the inevitable exposure of one’s intentions.

One of the possible meanings of the character 诡 (that is commonly translated as “deception”) is “unusual” or “extraordinary.” Interestingly, it bears a resemblance to the character 鬼, which refers to a "supernatural being," often associated with ancestral spirits. In this light, 诡 can also be interpreted as the mastery of a skill in some extraordinary or uncommon way. This nuance is reflected in the second modern definition of 诡, namely 捷径, which means a “shortcut” or “fast route,” but with the implication of something out of the ordinary, beyond the typical or expected.

In any standard scenario, multiple paths present themselves toward a goal, most of which are long and circuitous, while one stands out as direct and swift—the 正道, or “straightforward path.” These pathways, however, all rely on the same basic skills and abilities, such as walking, and under such conditions, the side with greater strength will inevitably prevail. Some may argue that the decisive factor is knowledge—such as knowing the shorter route—but in reality, when one possesses exclusive access to special knowledge, they stand without competition. This was historically evident in innovations such as the domestication of horses or the creation of bronze and metal weapons, where those with unique knowledge gained an overwhelming advantage.

However, in a world where access to knowledge is largely equal between adversaries, the nature of power shifts. Knowledge, once a rare and decisive advantage, becomes just another form of resource—comparable to physical strength or material wealth. This means that the abilities of rival parties can be compared almost directly, as the boundaries between physical power and informational power blur. Knowledge, in this context, no longer functions as a singularly transformative force but becomes part of the broader contest of capabilities. Just as physical resources can be measured and weighed, so too can informational resources, especially when both parties share relatively equal access to information and intelligence.

Thus, the extraordinary path suggested by 诡—whether understood as an unusual tactic or a “shortcut”—requires something beyond mere access to knowledge or physical might. It calls for the application of skills in ways that transcend the ordinary, a kind of ingenuity that cannot be easily anticipated or matched. It is this extraordinary ability to leverage resources—both informational and physical—that defines the true mastery of strategy.

In the evolving context of warfare and conflict, where access to information is increasingly democratized and physical power is no longer the sole determinant of victory, the meaning of 诡 becomes more profound. It is not just about deception, but about finding extraordinary means within ordinary circumstances, about crafting strategies that are unexpected and beyond the reach of conventional understanding. In this sense, the “unusual” quality of 诡 reflects the necessity of creative, adaptive thinking that goes beyond the straightforward application of force or knowledge.

Sun Tzu speaks to this dynamic directly: “In battle, use the ‘straightforward’ to engage the enemy, and the ‘surprise’ to win the victory… for gaining strategic advantage in battle, there are no more than ‘surprise’ and ‘straightforward’ operations, yet in combination they produce inexhaustible possibilities” (凡战者，以正合，以奇胜……战势不过奇正，奇正之变，不可胜穷也). But what exactly is meant by “surprise” in this context?

At first glance, any move made during warfare must adhere to the five fundamental criteria: integrity, time, terrain, discipline, and abilities (道，天，地，將，法). These constraints are non-negotiable, as the cost of failure in battle is often immense. Thus, any innovation or “surprise” tactic must be grounded in rational calculation and directed toward securing victory. The stakes leave no room for reckless or unconsidered actions.

Both sides in a conflict have similar access to knowledge about the past and the present—intelligence on previous strategies, terrain, and troop capabilities is often available to both. What neither side possesses, however, is perfect knowledge of the future. Herein lies the essence of “surprise”: it is not simply about unpredictability for its own sake, but about the ability to craft new responses and strategies that emerge from one’s understanding of the present conditions.

The true art of surprise lies in one’s capacity to act creatively within the given circumstances. Since both sides are bound by the same objective limitations, the element of surprise is born not from ignoring these constraints but from utilizing them in unexpected ways. It reflects the creative power to adapt and transform existing knowledge into something novel and effective. As Sun Tzu implies, the combination of straightforward and surprise operations generates “inexhaustible possibilities”—because the surprise emerges from the interaction between the known and the unknown, the expected and the unexpected. It is not simply a reversal of what is anticipated but a creative leap that reconfigures the battlefield, forcing the enemy into a reactive position.

Surprise, in this sense, represents the unpredictable potential of human ingenuity. It is the ability to see beyond the immediate, to innovate within the rigid frameworks of time, terrain, and structure, and to craft strategies that are both rational and unexpected. Even when two counterparts have equal knowledge of their environment, it is this creative impulse that defines true strategic mastery. The “surprise” Sun Tzu speaks of is not merely tactical; it is an expression of deeper insight and adaptability—the ability to turn constraints into opportunities and to transform the predictable into something extraordinary.

Thus, the future in warfare depends on more than just technical knowledge or brute force. It hinges on one’s ability to act in a given moment and to bring forth something new—a manifestation of creative power that not only adheres to the laws of war but transcends them. Victory belongs to those who can not only engage in the “straightforward” but also wield the “surprise” with a deft hand, blending the expected with the extraordinary to create outcomes beyond calculation.

The concept of “creativity” finds profound resonance in the Chinese classics, as explored by Roger Ames in his interpretation of Zhongyong (中庸). Drawing on Alfred North Whitehead, Ames emphasizes that Whitehead characterizes “creativity” as “the principle of novelty,” defining the creative process as “the production of novel togetherness.” Such insights provide a compelling framework for understanding the role of creativity in warfare, particularly in the context of Sun Tzu’s strategy of “surprise.”

The essence of creativity, as Ames describes, echoes the dynamic interplay between the five fundamental criteria of the Art of War—integrity, time, terrain, discipline, and abilities (道，天，地，將，法). The skillful combination of these elements gives rise to the “surprise” that can turn the tide of battle, illustrating how creativity manifests through the ability to reconfigure what is known into something entirely new and unexpected.

Ames’ interpretation is further illuminated by the concept of “utmost creativity” (zhicheng 至诚) found in the Zhongyong. He explains that “only those of utmost creativity (至诚) in the world are able to make the most of their natural tendencies (xing 性). Only if one is able to make the most of one's own natural tendencies is one able to make the most of the natural tendencies of others.” This principle extends beyond personal mastery, suggesting that a true strategist must harness not only their own abilities but also the inherent capacities of their environment and opponents. The capacity to do so leads to what is described as foreknowledge: “The way of utmost creativity (zhicheng 至诚) entails foreknowledge” (至诚之道，可以前知).

This notion of foreknowledge is not about literal prediction, but rather the profound understanding that arises from fully realizing one’s potential and aligning with the forces at play. In warfare, this would mean an intuitive grasp of the unfolding dynamics on the battlefield—being able to anticipate moves not because of omniscient knowledge, but because of a heightened sensitivity to the tendencies of both one’s own side and the enemy’s. Creativity, in this sense, becomes not merely the production of novel strategies, but the ability to perceive and act upon the inherent possibilities that others might overlook.

Such creativity is reflected in the capacity to adapt the five criteria of warfare to craft the kind of surprise that Sun Tzu speaks of, where “inexhaustible possibilities” emerge from the interplay of the straightforward and the unexpected. As Zhuangzi’s observation suggests, there is an element of mystery in this process: “Things happen, and no one can tell how they come to be so.” The surprise in warfare, like creativity itself, cannot always be predicted or rationally explained. It is an emergent property of the strategist’s ability to combine knowledge, intuition, and adaptability in ways that go beyond conventional understanding.

According to Sun Tzu, foreknowledge is a vital component of the art of warfare: “Victory can be anticipated, but it cannot be forced” (胜可知，而不可為). This raises an essential question: how does utmost creativity lead to knowledge and the ability to achieve victory? The answer lies in the notion that the only way to truly know the future is to co-create it in concert with the world around us.

Warfare, in its essence, is a competition of perspectives on reality. Since knowledge of the past and present can be considered comparably accessible, it is ultimately those whose capacity to shape and create the future who prevail in conflict. This understanding resonates with the principles of materialism, revealed by Karl Marx: “The question whether objective truth can correspond to human thinking—is not a question of theory but a practical question. In practice man must prove the truth, i.e., the actuality and power, the this-sidedness of his thinking.” In this view, it is through action and engagement with the world that one uncovers the path to victory.

Roger Ames offers a fresh interpretation, suggesting 诚 to be understood as “creativity,” however, its common translation is “sincerity.” Upon closer examination, creativity and sincerity are not separate; rather, they are intertwined. True creativity is the manifestation of one’s natural tendencies (xing 性) in the world, reflecting an authentic alignment with one’s own nature and the nature of the circumstances at hand. It is through this alignment that one can produce genuine “surprises” (奇) and extraordinary new strategies (诡), which consistently transcend the limitations of the past.

In this way, the “utmost creativity” of the successful strategist parallels the creativity Ames and Whitehead describe—a principle of novelty that brings forth new realities from the existing order. The ability to win in warfare, then, is not simply a matter of superior force or knowledge but of being able to creatively navigate the forces of time, terrain, and human nature, crafting strategies that are as unexpected as they are effective.

Thus, warfare can be viewed as an art of surprising (兵者，詭道也), which can be only sincere in its essence. It requires not only the capacity to engage and overcome the enemy through battle but also the ability to transform oneself, which may necessitate a personal revolution. In both instances, victory is attained by discovering a new path forward—one that co-creates the future of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity. This collaborative act of creation is essential, as it recognizes that victory is not solely a matter of conquering an opponent but also about navigating the complexities of existence and embracing change.

The interplay of creativity, sincerity, and foreknowledge is crucial in this context. When one approaches warfare—and indeed, life itself—with a sincere intention to innovate and adapt, they tap into a wellspring of potential that allows them to envision and manifest a future that aligns with their goals. This holistic view redefines victory: it becomes not just an endpoint to be achieved through sheer force, but a dynamic process that involves collaboration with the surrounding world.

In conclusion, the art of warfare transcends mere tactics and strategies; it embodies a profound understanding of the relationship between action, intention, and the unfolding of reality. By embracing creativity as an expression of sincerity, we unlock the capacity to co-create outcomes that are not predetermined but are instead shaped by our choices and actions. In this way, we find that true mastery in warfare—and in life—lies in the ability to envision and forge a future that reflects our highest potential.

References:

• Ames, R.T. Sun Tzu: The Art of Warfare. Ballatine books, Zhonghua Shuju, 2012.

• Ames, R.T., Hall D.L. Focusing the Familiar. A Translation and Philosophical Interpretation of the Zhongyong. University of Hawai’i Press, 2001.

• Marx, K. Ad Feuerbach [Theses on Feuerbach] German Text Facing Page English Translation. C.B. Pedroza, Bonn, Germany, 2019.