1 Early Records

and the First Spies

DESPITE BEING COMMONLY PERCEIVED as long having been a politically and culturally integrated state, China suffered almost incessant warfare and rampant political intrigue over the three millennia of its tenuous geopolitical existence. In consequence, as early as the turbulent Spring and Autumn ( 722-481 B.C.) and Warring States ( 403-221 B.C.) periods a body of military theory evolved that gradually acquired canonical status centuries later. Remarkably, these ancient tactical classics--famous works such as Sun-tzu Art of War and Wu Ch'i's Wu-tzu--retained their applicability through successive dynasties because military practices were essentially continuous until the advent of hot weapons and contact with the West. Moreover, they were studied not only by professional military men, but also by statesmen, bureaucrats, and philosophers, often in conjunction with the records of battles and intrigues preserved in China's extensive historical writings.

 

The disproportionate influence of the early classics on subsequent military theorizing, including the nature and objectives of China's intelligence activities over the past two millennia, should not be underestimated. 1 The assumptions and principles expounded by Sun-tzu, China's earliest known theorist, largely defined the parameters and categories that were vigorously followed thereafter, particularly in assessments of the enemy and the thrust of spycraft. Many of his conceptions may be traced into the T'ang, when they were particularly expanded following the unrelenting strife and intrigue that had marked the previous centuries of disunion, and then on through the Sung into the Ming. In every case the authors embraced Sun-tzu's principles and analysis but expanded the methodological details, categories of operatives, range of activities, types of mission, and psychology of recruitment, eventually emphasizing security and counterintelligence measures to frustrate increasingly numerous and effective agents, both diplomatic and covert.

 

Chinese intelligence efforts have historically focused upon rulers and powerful officials, economic factors, and military plans, capabilities, dispositions, and movements. The data collected were comparatively analyzed to determine probable intentions, develop a net assessment, and plot possible reactions. Clandestine operations naturally evolved to gather secret information critical to "preparing against the unforeseen," resulting in the employment of several types of agents, methods of control, and techniques of analysis. Preserving secrecy became critical, necessitating efforts to prevent foreign agents from easily acquiring both open information and secret plans while stimulating counterintelligence activities to thwart and manipulate enemy agents. Covert measures and psychological operations designed to disrupt the enemy's government, solidarity, and

capabilities--including conducting assassinations, sowing doubts and rumors, bribing and corrupting officials, and executing estrangement techniques--rapidly multiplied even in the early period.

 

China's historical writings, while varied and voluminous, are unfortunately sketchy for the early Chou, Spring and Autumn, and Warring States periods. However, the limited extant materials still provide a fairly comprehensive picture of intrigue, machination, and ingenuity, even though their terseness often requires imaginative interpretation and their reliability has been questioned. Moreover, apart from their fundamental value as chronological history, they subsequently assumed a life of their own, one validated by centuries of assiduous study, eventually providing the basis for popular tales and a core of general belief. Bolstered by Confucian reverence for antiquity, they also came to function as compendiums of ancient practices and stories, the essence and foundation of a national mind-set that would delimit the very possibilities of conception and action. Eventually they were viewed not just as benign portrayals of ancient times, but also as virtual handbooks of covert practices, stealthy techniques, pernicious concepts, and perverse methods that should be denied the unrighteous and kept from the dangerous. Just as the military writings, they posed a potential danger to the ruler, especially during periods of instability, justifying stringent control measures. The paranoia that could result is well illustrated by a T'ang dynasty incident prompted by the Turfan forwarding a request ostensibly on behalf of a T'ang princess previously given to them in marriage for the core classics of Chinese civilization: the Book of Odes, Li Chi, Tso Chuan, and Wen Hsüan. In the following memorial a high official vehemently opposed granting their request:

 

Your subject has heard that these barbarians are raiders who plague us while the classics are the essence of our state. We must be prepared against the passions of such barbarians. Since the classics contain timeless methods for governing, they cannot be loaned to other peoples. The Tso Chuan states: "The Shang did not plan against the Hsia, the Yi [barbarians] did not confuse the Hua [Chinese]." The way to resist their untamed hearts and be free of misfortune is to prepare.

 

In antiquity when King P'ing-tung visited the Han court seeking the Shih Chi and the writings of the philosophers, Emperor Ch'eng did not grant his request because the Shih Chi is replete with military strategies and the books of the philosophers with crafty techniques. So if the Han emperor was unwilling to show his own beloved relative these books on the conduct of warfare, how can we today hand over classics filled with such information to our nemesis, the Western barbarians?

 

Moreover, I have heard that by nature the Turfan are cruel and decisive, their emotions sensitive and sharp, and they excel in studying everything. If they penetrate the Book of Documents, they will certainly know how to conduct warfare. If they thoroughly understand the Book of Odes, they will know the martial. If their teachers probe deeply into the Li Chi, they will know about the monthly ordinances. When their experienced soldiers have penetrated the Tso Chuan, they will learn numerous deceptive methods and stratagems for employing troops. When they become thoroughly familiar with the literary pieces in the Wen Hsüan, they will know the regulations governing war dispatches. How will this differ from loaning weapons to the invaders and providing them with provisions?

 

I have heard that when the state of Lu embraced the Chou Li, Ch'i did not attack them. When Wu learned how to employ chariots, Ch'u's troops were exhausted in running for their lives. 2 The former preserved their state by maintaining the classics, the latter endangered their state by losing their tactics. Moreover, having been sent out in marriage, the princess has traveled a great distance to a foreign state where she should be embracing the rites of the Yi peoples, not turning around and seeking our outstanding books. According to my bumbling analysis, this is not really the princess's idea. I suspect that some defector is encouraging these teachings among them.

 

 

If your majesty is concerned about losing the affection of the Turfan and preserving the state's credibility so there is absolutely no other way, I suggest you eliminate the Ch'un Ch'iu [and Tso Chuan] because it was composed when the virtue of the Chou was already in decline, when the feudal lords were forcefully violating the constraints of rites and music, each going forth to engage in warfare. At that time prevarication was born, at that time change and deceit arose. There were cases of ministers summoning their rulers as well as seizing the awesomeness and name of hegemon. If you provide them with this book, it will be a source of misfortune to our state. In the Tso Chuan it states that [as his reward for valor] Yu-hsi requested certain minor privileges in court dress which, when granted, prompted Confucius to say: "Alas, why not give him more cities? Only names and vessels [of state] cannot be loaned to men."3 These barbarians clearly covet expensive goods and disdain territory, so you can formally present them with silks and generously gift them with jades. Why must you grant what they seek and thereby increase their knowledge? 4

 

The antecedent cited in which the emperor refused to provide the Shih Chi and other philosophical works even to his own uncle, the nominal king of a subsidiary Han fief, is similarly illuminating. First, it implies that nearly a century after its completion the Shih Chi was still largely retained in the court archives rather than generally circulated. Second, political works, including historical writings and the arguments of the philosophers, were seen as equally filled with insidious, potentially dangerous materials, viewed as veritable textbooks of plots and machinations, techniques and subterfuges. Thus, they were not granted to the king of P'ing-tung in 29 B.C. despite his royal lineage because General Wang Feng advised:

 

Some of the works of the philosophers are contrary to orthodox classical studies and criticize the Great Sages of antiquity, others illustrate ghosts and spirits and believe in oddities and curiosities. The Shih Chi contains the strategies of the Warring States, the horizontal and vertical alliances, tactical power and deception, the unorthodox measures employed by tacticians at the rise of the Han, Heavenly Offices, disasters, abnormalities, mountain passes and strategic points, and the topography of the realm, none of which should be in the hands of the feudal lords. 5

 

These works, together with the military writings and Twenty-five Dynastic Histories, provide the basis for this study.

 

Yi Yin and Early History

Deliberately gathering information about one's enemies doubtlessly commenced with the earliest Neolithic conflicts, although short-term reconnaissance and direct line-of-sight observation, aided by concealment and the advantage of height, would have been the only means available. Over the centuries the few military theorists and historians who contemplated the issues of intelligence gathering in China have often attributed the earliest known spy activities to King Shao-k'ang, said to have ruled the Hsia dynasty in the nineteenth century B.C., because he apparently dispatched an agent to clandestinely observe his father's murderer while secretly developing the power base necessary to successfully restore Hsia rule, an event traditionally dated to 1875 B.C. The key historical reference, much cited thereafter, actually appears in the Tso Chuan, embedded in Wu Tzu-hsü's futile attempt to persuade the king of Wu to exterminate their archenemy, the state of Yüeh under King Kou-chien, now that they had vanquished it. This single line runs, " Shao-k'ang employed Ju-ai to spy upon Chiao." 6

 

By the end of the historical, though poorly documented, Hsia dynasty at least one famous figure is identified as a covert agent, while another was instrumental in subverting and overthrowing the Shang dynasty around 1045 B.C. According to Sun-tzu: "In antiquity, when the Shang arose, they had Yi Yin in the Hsia. When the Chou arose, they had Lü Ya (the T'ai Kung) in the Shang."7 Sun-tzu's view apart, neither of them appears to have acted in the usual role of spies--that is, agents dispatched on clandestine missions--being instead "defectors," experts who had abandoned perverse governments to perform advisory roles for moral contenders. However, despite being volunteers rather than recruited informants, they have still been considered "spies" (chien), immediately suggesting the broad scope of the term chien in ancient China. 8

 

Even though agents and observers had no doubt been plying their trade for centuries, Yi Yin eventually became recognized as China's first covert agent because Sun-tzu thus dubbed him so. However, the historical materials that purportedly chronicle ancient Chinese history--particularly the Shang Shu (Book of Documents)--are devoid of any justification for Sun-tzu's ascription. Rather than some secretive, shadowy figure, in a motif much repeated thereafter these writings portray a recluse who righteously abandoned his pastoral obscurity and nominal allegiance to the tyrannical Hsia to guide a youthful ruler embarking upon the course of virtue and benevolence. In its earliest form the story simply located him on the periphery of the Hsia, but over the centuries it became more romanticized and explicit, even ally resulting in Mencius's definitive portrait in the middle Warring States period.

 

A chapter in the Lü-shih Ch'un-ch'iu, a late third century B.C. eclectic text, preserves the most dramatic account to be found among China's numerous historical writings. Not only does it integrate the image of a moral paragon with the deviousness of a seasoned spy; it also includes a painful cover story:

 

Because Emperor Chieh of the Hsia dynasty was immoral, brutal, perverse, stupid, and greedy, All under Heaven quaked in fear and were greatly troubled. However, reports of his deeds were contradictory and confused, so it was difficult for anyone to fathom the true situation. Availing himself of the emperor's awesomeness, the prime minister Kan Hsin was brusque and insulting to both the feudal lords and the common people. Because the worthy and outstanding ministers were all anxious and resentful, the emperor killed Kuan Lung-feng to stifle rebellious stirrings. The common masses, in consternation and confusion, all wished to emigrate elsewhere and, afraid to speak directly about the situation, lived in constant terror. Although the great ministers shared the same worries, they dared not cooperate to mount a revolt. Meanwhile Emperor Chieh increasingly regarded himself as a great worthy, boasted of his transgressions, and even viewed wrong as right. The imperial way was blocked and stopped, the populace in total collapse.

 

Terrified and troubled that the realm was not at peace, T'ang wanted Yi Yin to go and observe the mighty Hsia. However, he feared that Yi Yin would not be trusted, so he personally shot him with an arrow. Yi Yin then fled to the Hsia. After three years he reported back to T'ang at his enclave at Hao: "Earlier Chieh was befuddled and deluded by his consort Mo Hsi and now loves his two concubines from Min-shan, so he doesn't have any concern for the common people. The will of the people does not support him, upper and lower ranks detest each other. The hearts of the people are filled with resentment. They all say that Heaven fails to have pity on them, so the Hsia's mandate is over." T'ang exclaimed: "What you have just said is much like a prophetic lament!" They then swore an oath together to evidence their determination to extinguish Hsia.

 

Yi Yin went again to observe the mighty Hsia, where he learned from Mo Hsi that "the previous night the emperor had dreamt there was a sun in the west and a sun in the east. When the two suns engaged in combat, the western sun emerged victorious and the eastern sun was vanquished." Yi Yin reported this to T'ang. Although the area was suffering from a severe drought, in order to keep faith with the oath he had sworn with Yi Yin, T'ang still mobilized their forces. Thereafter he ordered the army, after proceeding out from the east, to make their advance into Hsia territory from the west. Chieh fled even before their blades had clashed, but was pursued out to Ta-sha where he was finally killed. 9

 

Remarkably, this episode already incorporates many crucial elements of spycraft. First, from the outset Yi Yin--whatever his wisdom and moral qualifications--was deliberately employed as a covert agent responsible for determining the true state of affairs in the Hsia, an enemy entity despite the Shang's own theoretical obligations toward their ruler. Second, he was given a plausible pretext for voluntarily allying himself with the perverse Chieh: a visible arrow wound (no doubt preceded by rumors and vivid, if inaccurate, accounts) emblematic of T'ang's hatred. Third, just as many rulers and innumerable officials throughout Chinese history, Chieh succumbed to sexual indulgence and the allure of beauty. Moreover, Mo Hsi, much dejected because new, foreign concubines were monopolizing the emperor's favors, acted as the archetypal slighted beauty in secretly revealing the king's frightening dream. (Throughout Chinese history many jealous consorts and concubines poisoned, stabbed, or otherwise murdered their unfaithful husbands and lovers, as well as betrayed their secrets, frustrated their plans, and thwarted their interests.) This information allowed King T'ang to exploit the ancient belief in the prophetic nature of dreams by enacting a scenario that actualized Chieh's secret fears. The advance of King T'ang's army from the west thus proved sufficient to trigger Chieh's terror and flight. Furthermore, Chieh's downfall was undoubtedly hastened because the hostile state of Minshan had consciously exploited the debilitating power of women and sex. The two new concubines who so fascinated him were neither accidental acquisitions nor battlefield spoils, but instead were gifts deliberately presented by the minor state of Min-shan that lay in the barbarous area of northwest Szechwan, far beyond the central core area of Hsia-Shang culture, to debauch his mind and deflect further incursions. Finally, the importance of prophetic events, sayings, and phenomena may be seen in T'ang's reaction to Yi Yin's initial report, for he was apparently astounded that Yi's words echoed what was probably a common saying predicting such a downfall.

 

The enigmatic Yi Yin eventually garnered a hallowed place in Chinese history as one of the virtuous paragons cited by Confucian literati seeking to justify the employment of worthy men to China's despotic rulers. He, the T'ai Kung, and a few other idealized figures became famous for having rescued their eras, not to mention monarchs, while ever espousing the virtuous ways of Yao, Shun, Yü, and the other semimythical Sage emperors of remote antiquity. They were inevitably portrayed as active, yet unsullied, pure, yet effective, and the Shang Shu purportedly preserves Yi Yin's admonitory speeches charging the youthful ruler with the practice of virtue at the Shang dynasty's inception. However, it otherwise provides nothing more than a sparse record of his activities, noting only that somewhat more than a decade after he was summoned to King T'ang's court the Shang successfully overthrew the Hsia in a brief battle. (The preface to the Shang Shu adds the comment that Yi Yin had been embarrassed to serve under the Hsia and therefore returned to Hao, the site of T'ang's domain.) He is further depicted as having continued as prime minister under two or three of T'ang's successors, even temporarily deposing one of them for a lack of virtue until restoring him to the throne following three years of enforced, isolated soul-searching. 10

 

However, the Bamboo Annals, increasingly viewed by scholars as a somewhat reliable source for the period, offers a startlingly different conclusion to this otherwise idealized story, stating that Yi Yin actually usurped the throne and was eventually executed when the rightful king escaped his confinement. 11

 

Befitting his status as China's first recognized covert agent, Yi Yin's historical image thus subsumes two different personae: a virtuous, self-sacrificing minister, and the skilled spy who made the conquest possible. The former was trumpeted by naive Confucians emphasizing the idea that Virtue alone is sufficient to dominate the realm, the latter stressed by political realists in the late Warring States period. Although Yi Yin's name appears in a multitude of texts, 12 he was definitively canonized as a paragon of virtue by Mencius when queried by a disciple as to whether, as commonly suggested, Yi Yin had sought a position under T'ang by becoming a cook rather than having been immediately recognized for his surpassing wisdom and virtue. (The Huai-nan Tzu, a somewhat later work, notes that being troubled by the realm being ungoverned, "Yi Yin harmonized the five flavors, slung his cooking vessels over his back, and went forth." It adds that "he went to Chieh five times, and also to T'ang five times, wanting to make the turbid clear and the endangered tranquil."13) In reply, Mencius pedantically described Yi Yin as the epitome of righteousness: a scholar fending for himself in the countryside, contentedly plowing his fields while practicing the Tao of the ancient Sage emperors. No amount of profit could coerce him into forsaking the path of righteousness, nothing cause him to commit the slightest transgression. Thus, despite the misery wrought upon the empire by Chieh, he im perturbably declined the gifts accompanying T'ang's fervent invitations three times before finally deciding that the empire desperately required his services and responded to T'ang's fervent call, much besought and accordingly honored. Thereafter, in the Mencian account, he transformed King T'ang into a ruler morally qualified to rescue the world from Chieh's tyranny, no covert actions or secret missions ever being mentioned. 14

Mencius's version may of course be seen as a hopeful projection of the process that rulers should undertake in humbly extending sincere invitations to moral exemplars (such as himself) to participate in their governments. However, the story persisted that after Yi Yin had failed to win T'ang's attention despite many audiences, he finally resorted to becoming his cook and thereby ingratiated himself sufficiently to gradually offer his persuasions. At the end of the Warring States period the brilliant but ill-fated Han Fei-tzu, often termed China's Machiavelli, in fact employed this story to illustrate the difficulty of achieving the objectives of persuasion: "In high antiquity T'ang was the most sagely, Yi Yin the most knowledgeable. But when the wisest persuaded the sagest, after seventy times he still had not been accepted. Only after personally carrying the cooking utensils and becoming a chef did they gradually become closer and more intimate and did T'ang fully realize his substance and employ him." 15

 

Several centuries later Liu Shao, author of the incisive Jen-wu Chih, struck a balanced view: "Yi Yin's virtue was sufficient to sharpen their customs, his laws adequate to rectify All under Heaven, and his methods enough to plot the court's victory." 16 Moreover, even the Chuang- tzu, the penultimate Taoist classic, contains an interesting anecdote that unexpectedly illuminates Yi Yin's realistic methods and tactics. When he was about to invade the Hsia, T'ang asked Pu Sui how to proceed but was snubbed because such mundane, despicable topics did not fall within Pu's purview. After Kuang Wu similarly rebuffed him, he inquired about Yi Yin and was advised that Yi was "strong and able to endure insults." King T'ang then employed Yi Yin, they plotted a successful attack, and then T'ang sought to cede the empire to Kuang Wu, who disparagingly condemned the king for imagining he might be greedy enough to accept it, just as he had earlier thought him to be a brigand who would betray Chieh, his nominal lord. 17

 

Chuang-tzu's anecdote implicitly raises the question of how defectors and traitors might be distinguished. From the dominant Confucian perspective, anyone who abandons a perverse ruler to support virtuous rebels claiming the Mandate of Heaven is a discerning defector, a hero rather than a traitor. Defectors are therefore ideologically and ethically motivated to opt for the victorious--and therefore, by de facto definition, the "moral"--side, while traitors are those who abandon the banner of righteousness or simply betray the eventual conqueror. Naturally, from a more cynical perspective, if involuntary obligations imposed by birth in a land or under a particular ruler have any legitimacy, they are all traitors. (Since defectors and traitors played a monumental role throughout Chinese history, they will be discussed in later sections.)

 

In sum, China's first spy thus has two faces--the first a moral paragon and idealistic adviser, the second a realist highly versed in subterfuge, skilled in disguising his intentions and motives, capable of acting as an observer and strategist, clearly courageous in the face of the enemy, and compellingly wise when confronted with tactical problems. It is of course this second visage that the military writers, popular legend, and many Legalist writings praise enthusiastically.

 

 

China's Second Spy: The T'ai Kung

Lü Shang, better known as the T'ai Kung, is a shadowy historical figure who reputedly played a crucial advisory role during the Chou's ascendancy, made the Shang conquest possible, and exercised a major command role in the battles that accomplished it. 18 Apart from his putative identification with the Six Secret Teachings--an extensive work of military theory--the T'ai Kung has also been honored throughout Chinese history as its first famous general, the progenitor of strategic studies, and the state's martial patron. 19 However, his identification as a "spy" no doubt results from his status as a defector, someone who fled the oppressive conditions under the Shang court, after perhaps serving in some capacity, to wander about until finally being recognized in old age by King Wen for his sagacity. As the king's most trusted adviser, he presumably furnished detailed information about the Shang's strengths and weaknesses, as well as tactical information for the final assault that surprised the Shang by crossing the frozen Yellow River to the south during January, thereby circumventing their westward pointing defenses. 20 However, if the Six Secret Teachings actually preserves his essential thoughts, he may equally well be viewed as the father of both tactics and spycraft, a role for which he has been both praised and condemned.

 

The essential background to the T'ai Kung's achievements was the archetypal battle between the forces of virtue, represented by the Chou dynasty, and those of evil, personified by King Chou, the Shang's perverse, debauched ruler. In a conflict reminiscent of T'ang's conquest of King Chieh of the Hsia, King Wen and his successor, King Wu, developed a powerful state on the western periphery of Shang culture. Although their policies were ostensibly based upon virtue and benevolence, designed to attract both disaffected peoples and willing allies, their rise also encompassed the brutal conquest of numerous smaller states. From the systematic way in which they proceeded and their uninterrupted success, they clearly had well-developed, although now unknown, sources of information and certainly acquired further intelligence during their expansion from both captives and willing immigrants.

 

It has been suggested that the Chou easily developed alliances with nearby peoples, including disenchanted Hsia groups subjugated by the Shang, because of their agricultural heritage. In perpetuating the Hsia's agricultural offices and reflecting the spirit of their remote ancestor known as Hou Chi ("Lord of Millet"), the Chou had for many years dispatched advisers to instruct other states in basic farming practices and seasonally appropriate activities. Their efforts not only garnered them good will and respect, but also provided a perfect cover for aggressively seeking military and political intelligence, for acquiring a thorough knowledge of the inhabitants, customs, and terrain outside the Wei River valley. 21

 

According to the Yi Chou-shu, when the center of Chou government was located in Feng, King Wu was kept informed about Shang's offenses and atrocities by spies (tie). Determining their reports to be substantially credible, he advised the Duke of Chou about the contents, prompting the latter to comment that the time for attacking the tyrannical Shang ruler had arrived. 22 Furthermore, the late Warring States Lü-shih Ch'un-chiu even contains a dialogue showing how the king controlled his agents that, while definitely a fabrication, enjoyed credibility thereafter and added to the fund of ancient lore:

 

King Wu of the Chou deputed an agent to observe the state of Shang. The observer returned to the Chou capital and reported, " Shang is in chaos." The king questioned him, "To what degree?" The agent replied, "Sycophants and evil-doers overcome the good." The king replied, "It is not yet time."

 

The agent again went to Shang and then returned to report, "Their chaos has increased." The king asked, "To what extent?" The agent replied, "The worthy have fled." King Wu said, "It is not yet time."

 

Once again the agent went to observe conditions and reported back, "Their chaos has become extreme." King Wu inquired, "In what way?" The observer replied, "The common people do not dare criticize or express their resentment."

 

King Wu sighed and then hastened to inform the T'ai Kung, who commented: "When sycophants and evil-doers overcome the good it is termed 'extermination'; when the worthy flee it is called 'collapse'; and when the common people dare not criticize or express their resentment it is termed 'punishments conquering.' Their chaos is extreme, beyond control!"

 

The king therefore selected three hundred chariots and three thousand tiger warriors, and set the day with the feudal lords in the court for capturing the king of Shang. 23

 

The Chou royal house also seems to have benefited from more reliable sources of information because many of its important members, including King Wen, had married Shang princesses. Furthermore, they were frequently compelled to pay homage and offer tribute to the Shang court, further exposing them to the political realities, coupled with opportunities for intelligence gathering, whether through observation or purchase. In this regard the Shang seem to have singularly failed, having blatantly ignored the Chou's growing threat because the ruler felt himself secure and well protected by the sanctions of Heaven, although he had earlier imprisoned King Wen for several years before releasing him in response to overly generous bribes. Even the Han Fei-tzu contains an episode portraying the Shang king's negligence in underestimating the dangers posed by King Wen's visible pursuit of righteousness:

 

Fei Chung attempted to persuade King Chieh: "The Lord of the West is a worthy so the hundred surnames are pleased with him and the feudal lords submit to him. You must execute him, for if you do not he will certainly be a source of misfortune for the Shang."

 

King Chou replied: "You are speaking of a righteous ruler. How can he be executed?" Fei Chung retorted: "A hat, even though worn through, must still be placed on the head; shoes, even though multicolored, must still tread upon the ground. Now the Lord of the West is a subject. He is cultivating righteousness so people incline toward him. If anyone will cause you misfortune, it will be him! Any person who does not employ his worthiness on behalf of his ruler must be executed. Moreover, where is the transgression in a ruler punishing his subject?"

 

King Chou replied: "Benevolence and righteousness are what rulers employ to encourage their subordinates. Now as the Lord of the West loves benevolence and righteousness, it is not possible to punish him." Fei Chung attempted to persuade him three times, then left the state.

 

However, perhaps the critical factor in the Chou's deliberate rise was the remoteness of the Wei River valley, situated in largely "bar barian" territory, whose isolation provided relative secrecy and deterred casual visitors. Under the T'ai Kung's guidance, King Wen was able to devise and implement the policies necessary to nurture the state's strength without attracting undue attention. The Chou thus managed to perfect themselves in the era's measures and technologies, and systematically develop policies, strategies, and even battlefield tactics not previously witnessed in Chinese history. In all, they required some seventeen years after the T'ai Kung commenced his advisory role to resolve the tactical problem of utilizing limited resources and restricted forces to attack a vastly superior, well-entrenched foe whose army probably outnumbered their entire population.

 

Unfortunately, even though the T'ai Kung has been accorded great respect for his apparent historical role, there is considerable controversy over his exact accomplishments, as well as centuries of Confucian revulsion over the possibility that military power and tactical measures were employed by the great moral paragons to achieve their conquest of the Shang. More significantly, there is a dearth of historical references to the T'ai Kung in the ancient sources that reputedly chronicle the period's major events, although the Shih Chi and Yi Chou-shu both provide supporting evidence. However, his biography in the former, well known for some two thousand years, established a lasting image:

 

T'ai Kung Wang, properly named Lü Shang, was a native of the Eastern Sea area. One of his ancestors had served as a labor director and meritoriously assisted the legendary Yü in pacifying the flooding waters. In the interval between Emperor Shun and the Hsia dynasty he was therefore enfeoffed at Lü, or perhaps at Shen, and surnamed Chiang. During the Hsia and Shang dynasties some of the sons and grandsons of his collateral lines were enfeoffed at Lü and Shen, some were commoners, and Lü Shang--the T'ai Kung--was their descendant. His original surname was Chiang, but he was subsequently surnamed from his fief, so was called Lü Shang.

 

Impoverished and in straits, Lü Shang was already old when, through fishing, he sought out King Wen, Lord of the West. The Lord of the West was about to go hunting and so divined about the prospects for success. What the diviner said was: "What you will obtain will be neither dragon nor serpent, neither tiger nor bear. What you will obtain is an assistant for a hegemon or king."

 

Thereupon the Lord of the West went hunting and indeed encountered the T'ai Kung on the sunny side of the Wei River. After speaking with him, he was greatly pleased and said: "My former lord, the T'ai Kung, said, 'There should be a Sage who will come to Chou, and Chou will thereby flourish.' Are you truly this Sage or not? My T'ai Kung looked out [wang] for you for a long time." Thus he called him T'ai Kung Wang, and returned together with him in his carriage, establishing him as strategist.

 

Someone has said: "The T'ai Kung had extensive learning, and once served King Chou of the Shang. King Chou lacked the Tao, so he left him. He traveled about exercising his persuasion on the various feudal lords but did not encounter anyone suitable, and in the end returned west with the Lord of the West."

 

Someone else has said: " Lü Shang was a retired scholar who had hidden himself on the seacoast. When the Lord of the West was confined at Yu-li, San-i Sheng and Hung Yao, having long known Lü Shang, summoned him. Lü Shang also said, 'I have heard that the Lord of the West is a Worthy and also excels at nurturing the old, so I guess I will go there.' The three men sought out beautiful women and rare objects on behalf of the Lord of the West, and presented them to the Shang king in order to ransom the Lord of the West. The Lord of the West was thereby able to go out and return to his state."24

 

Although the ways they say Lü Shang came to serve the Lord of the West differ, still the essential point is that he became strategist to Kings Wen and Wu. After the Lord of the West was extricated from Yu-li and returned to Chou, he secretly planned with Lü Shang and cultivated his Virtue in order to overturn Shang's government. The T'ai Kung's affairs were mostly concerned with military authority and unorthodox stratagems, so when later generations speak about armies and the Chou's secret tactical advantage of power, they all honor the T'ai Kung for making the fundamental plans.

The Lord of the West's government was equitable, even extending to settling the conflict between the Yü and Jui peoples. Thus the Book of Odes refers to the Lord of the West as King Wen once he received the Mandate of Heaven. He successfully attacked the states of Ch'ung, Mi-hsü, and Chüan-i, and constructed a great city at Feng. If All under Heaven were to be divided into thirds, two-thirds had already given their allegiance to the Chou. The T'ai Kung's plans and schemes occupied the major part.

 

When King Wen died, King Wu ascended the throne. In his ninth year, wanting to continue King Wen's task, he mounted a campaign in the east to observe whether the feudal lords would assemble or not. When the army set out, the T'ai Kung wielded the yellow battle ax in his left hand, and grasped the white pennon in his right, in order to swear the oath:

 

 

Ts'ang-ssu! Ts'ang-ssu!

Unite your masses of common people With your boats and oars.

Those who arrive after will be beheaded.

 

Thereafter he went to Meng-chin. The number of feudal lords who assembled of their own accord was eight hundred. The feudal lords all said, " KingChou can be attacked." King Wu replied, "Not yet." He had the army return and made the Great Oath with the T'ai Kung.

 

After they had remained in Chou for two more years, King Chou of the Shang killed prince Pi-kan and imprisoned the Worthy Chi-tzu. King Wu, wanting to attack the Shang, performed divination with a turtle shell to observe the signs. They were not auspicious and violent wind and rain arose. The assembled dukes were all afraid, but the T'ai Kung stiffened them to support King Wu. King Wu then went forth.

 

In the eleventh year, the first month, on the day chia-tzu the king swore an oath at Mu-yeh and attacked King Chou of the Shang. The Shang army was completely defeated, so King Chou turned and ran off, and then ascended the Deer Tower. King Wu's forces pursued and beheaded King Chou. On the morrow King Wu was established at the altars: The dukes presented clear water, K'ang Shu-feng of Wei spread out a variegated mat, the T'ai Kung led the sacrificial animals, and the Scribe Yi chanted the prayers in order to announce to the spirits the punishment of King Chou's offenses. They distributed the money from the Deer Tower and gave out the grain in the Chü-ch'iao granary in order to relieve the impoverished people. They enfeoffed Pi-kan's grave and released Chi-tzu from imprisonment. They removed the nine cauldrons of authority, rectified the government of Chou, and began anew with All under Heaven. The T'ai Kung's plans occupied the major part.

 

Thereupon King Wu, having already pacified the Shang and become King of All under Heaven, enfeoffed the T'ai Kung at Ying- ch'iu in Ch'i. The T'ai Kung went east to his state, staying overnight on the road and traveling slowly. The innkeeper said: "I have heard it said that time is hard to get but easy to lose. Our guest sleeps extremely peacefully. Probably he is not going to return to his state." The T'ai Kung, overhearing it, got dressed that night and set out, reaching his state just before first light. The Marquis of Lai came out to attack, and fought with him for Ying- ch'iu, which bordered Lai. The people of Lai were Yi people who, taking advantage of the chaos under King Chou and the new settlement of the Chou dynasty, assumed Chou would be unable to assemble the distant quarters. For this reason they battled with the T'ai Kung for his state.

 

When the T'ai Kung reached Ch'i he rectified the government in accord with prevailing customs, simplified the Chou's forms of propriety, opened up the occupations of the merchants and artisans, and facilitated the realization of profits from fishing and salt. The people turned their allegiance to Ch'i in large numbers, and Ch'i thus became a great state.

 

When the youthful King Ch'eng ascended the Chou throne and the late King Wu's brothers Kuan Shu and Ts'ai Shu revolted, the Yi people in the Huai River valley again turned against the Chou. So King Ch'eng had Duke Chao K'ang issue a mandate to the T'ai Kung: "To the east as far as the sea, the west to the Yellow River, south to Mu-ling, and north to Wu-ti, thoroughly rectify and order the five marquis and nine earls." From this Ch'i was able to conduct a campaign of rectification to subdue the rebellious and become a great state. Its capital was Ying-ch'iu. Probably when the T'ai Kung died, he was more than a hundred years old.

 

The Grand Historian comments: "I went to Ch'i--from Lang-yeh, which belongs to Mt. T'ai, north to where it fronts the sea, embracing two thousand kilometers of fertile land. Its people are expansive, and many conceal their knowledge. It is their Heaven- given nature. Taking the T'ai Kung's Sageness in establishing his state, isn't it appropriate that Duke Huan flourished and cultivated good government and was thereby able to assemble the feudal lords in a covenant? Vast, vast, truly the style of a great state!"

 

Despite the lucidity of his biography and its frequent citation in various writings, over the centuries the T'ai Kung's reputation equally derived from the infamous book associated with his name, the Six Secret Teachings, which purportedly records his strategic advice and tactical instructions to Kings Wen and Wu in the mid-eleventh century B.C. (The present book unquestionably dates from the middle to late Warring States period; however, even today some traditionalists still believe it reflects the mature heritage of military studies found in the strong state of Ch'i and therefore preserves at least vestiges of the oldest strata of Chinese military thought.) Accordingly, the Six Secret Teachings would be the only Chinese military classic written to facilitate revolutionary activity because the Chou's aim was nothing less than a dynastic revolution. Paradoxically, Confucians throughout the imperial period excoriated the text because the T'ai Kung depicted therein vociferously insists upon exploiting every means available to achieve victory rather than confidently relying upon the benign power of Virtue. Critical measures therefore include feigning and dissembling to deceive the enemy and allay suspicions; using bribes, gifts, and other methods to induce disloyalty and cause chaos and consternation; and undertaking "civil warfare," a systematic, unorthodox program that stresses psychological techniques and covert methods to undermine and enervate the enemy, such as by distracting them and increasing their debauchery with musicians, wine, women, and fascinating rarities. Spies must be employed, complete secrecy is mandated, and once an engagement begins no constraints should ever be imposed on the fighters.

 

The Six Secret Teachings also analyzes numerous battle situations and formulates general principles to guide the commander's efforts to determine the most effective tactics based upon classifications of terrain, aspects of the enemy, and the relative strength of the forces. Intensive efforts to gather information must always be mounted because, in accord with the analytic thrust of Chinese military science, the enemy must be carefully evaluated and judgments weighed before a decision whether to attack or defend can be calculated. Among the numerous related topics are techniques for psychological warfare, procedures for probing and manipulating the enemy, ways to induce fear, and methods for deception. Because subterfuge and psychological ploys manipulate the enemy and thereby hasten their demise, confusion should be incited in the enemy's ranks, such as through disinformation. Furthermore, all weaknesses in an opposing general should be fully exploited and assaults directed toward undefended positions. No general should ever suffer a defeat from lack of training, preparation, or tactical intelligence.

 

Additional important issues found throughout the book concern military communications and the paramount need for secrecy, evaluation of the situation and decisive action when the moment arrives, various indications and cues for fathoming the enemy's situation, and the everyday basis for military skills and equipment. In addition, more than half the book is devoted to tactical principles, questions of command and control, the nature of leadership, and essential policies for the state. In sum, the work by which the T'ai Kung came to be known--one that has enjoyed numerous vernacular Chinese and Japanese translations in recent decades, as well as cartoon versions and abstracted applications for business endeavors--is a vast compendium of military science. Although certainly not China's first theoretical work, it founded the T'ai Kung's reputation for over two thousand years.

 

 

Tzu Kung

Along with Yi Yin and the T'ai Kung, Tzu Kung, who was active in the last decade of the sixth century B.C. and first decade of the fifth, is the third figure frequently identified as an early covert agent. A section of Confucius's biography in the Shih Chi briefly characterizes him with citations from the Analects, the famous composite writing embodying the Master's sayings, and purportedly preserves his successive discussions with the era's major feudal powers in his fervent quest to prevent Ch'i from exterminating the small state of Lu. Although almost certainly the product of later Warring States writers, 25 these dialogues may still reflect the essence of his arguments since he clearly persuaded several rulers to significantly alter their military plans, mostly to their regret.

 

Tzu Kung was prompted to undertake his mission when Confucius, openly ruing the imminent destruction of their ancestral state, sarcastically wondered why none of his disciples had been stirred to action. The Shih Chi unfolds the following events that probably occurred about 498 B.C. near the end of the Spring and Autumn period, right after Sun-tzu's strategies had made Wu powerful:

 

Tuan Mu-hsi, known as Tzu Kung, was a native of the state of Wei. Thirty-one years younger than Confucius, he had a sharp tongue and spoke skillfully, prompting Confucius to frequently upbraid him for his argumentiveness. Confucius once asked him, "Who is superior, you or Yen Hui?" Tzu Kung replied: "How would I dare compare myself with Hui? When Hui hears one thing he knows ten; when I hear one thing, I know two."

 

When Tzu Kung had completed his studies with Confucius, he asked, "What sort of man am I?""You are a vessel," Confucius responded. "What sort of vessel?""A jade vessel for sacrificial grains."26

 

Ch'en Tzu-ch'in asked Tzu Kung, "With whom did Confucius study?" Tzu Kung replied: "The Tao of Kings Wen and Wu of the Chou dynasty has not yet totally fallen by the wayside, but is still present in men. The worthy recognize the important aspects, the unworthy the minor aspects. Thus everyone still retains the Tao of Kings Wen and Wu, so where would Confucius not learn? Why should he have had a constant teacher?"27

 

Ch'en Tzu-ch'in further inquired: "When Confucius goes to a state, he invariably learns about its government. Does he seek it out, or is it given to him?" Tzu Kung replied: "The master acts congenially and respectfully, and gains information through courtesy. Isn't his seeking thus different from other men?"28

 

Tzu Kung asked Confucius, "What do you think about being rich, yet not arrogant, or poor, yet not a sycophant?" Confucius replied: "It is acceptable. However, it is not as good as being poor, yet taking pleasure in the Tao, being rich, yet loving the true forms of behavior."29

 

T'ien Ch'ang, a high official in Ch'i, wanted to bring about chaos in his native state but was afraid of the four great families surnamed Kao, Kuo, Pao, and Ying. Therefore he shifted the forces under his control, intending to attack the state of Lu. Confucius, having heard about it, addressed his disciples: "Our ancestral graves are located in Lu, the state of our fathers and mothers. When the state is now thus endangered, why haven't any of you gone forth to take action?" Tzu Lu requested permission to go, but Confucius stopped him. Tzu Chang and Tzu Shih similarly requested permission to go, but Confucius would not grant it. Tzu Kung then asked to go and Confucius agreed.

 

Tzu Kung first went to Ch'i, where he spoke with T'ien Ch'ang: "Your lordship's attack on Lu is in error because it is a difficult state to attack. Its fortifications are narrow and low, its moats constricted and shallow, its ruler stupid and lacking in benevolence, and the ministers false and useless. Moreover, the officers and people detest military service. You cannot engage them in combat. It would be better for your majesty to attack Wu. Now Wu's walls are high and wide, the moats broad and deep, their armor stout and new, the officers carefully selected and well fed. Valuable vessels and elite troops are all gathered there. Moreover, Wu employs enlightened officials to preserve them. They would be easy to attack."

 

T'ien Ch'ang angrily flushed and said: "What you consider difficult everyone else takes as easy; what you consider easy everyone else believes to be difficult. What do you mean by instructing me in this fashion?"

 

Tzu Kung replied: "I have heard it said that one who suffers from internal difficulties should attack the strong, but one who suffers from external pressures should attack the weak. Now you are troubled about internal affairs. I have heard that your lordship has been enfeoffed three times unsuccessfully because some of the important ministers do not heed your words. Now if your lordship destroys Lu and thus broadens Ch'i, your victory will make the ruler arrogant. Destroying Lu will also cause the ministerial families [who command the armies] to be further honored, while your achievements will not rank among them. Therefore you will daily become further estranged from the ruler.

 

"When the ruler has become arrogant and the great ministers are free to pursue their desires, yet you seek to accomplish great deeds, it will be difficult. In general, when rulers become arrogant, they give free rein to their desires, but when ministers grow arrogant, they wrangle. For this reason differences will force you to defer to the ruler while you will have to struggle with the ministers. In such circumstances your position in Ch'i will be endangered. Thus I advised that it would be better to attack the state of Wu.

 

"If you attack Wu and fail to be victorious the people will perish outside while within the state the high ministers' positions will be empty. Then you will not have any powerful enemies within the ministerial ranks nor excesses in the people below. A solitary ruler will then govern Ch'i, and it will be your majesty."

 

T'ien Ch'ang said: "Excellent! However, I have already sent my forces forth against Lu, so withdrawing them now to send against Wu would cause the great ministers to be suspicious. What should I do?"

 

Tzu Kung replied: "Your lordship's forces should merely assume a position there without attacking. Meanwhile, I would like permission to go to Wu and persuade the ruler to rescue Lu by attacking Ch'i. You could then employ your army to respond to their offensive."

 

T'ien Ch'ang agreed and had Tzu Kung proceed south on his mission, where he gained audience with Fu-ch'ai, king of Wu. Tzu Kung said: "I have heard that a true king does not exterminate generations or a hegemon strengthen his enemies. A weight of a thousand tons can shift when but a few ounces are added. Right now the state of Ch'i, with its ten thousand chariots, and my own state of Lu, with its thousand, are struggling with Wu for supremacy. 30 I am afraid that you will be endangered by this conflict. However, rescuing Lu would result in a glorious name, attacking Ch'i would produce great profits. Nothing would be more advantageous than dispelling the worries of the feudal lords above the Ssu River and executing brutal Ch'i in order to bring about its subjugation to mighty Chin. Even the wise would have no doubts about the fame that would be achieved for preserving the lost state of Lu and actually putting strong Ch'i in straits."

 

Fu-ch'ai replied: "Excellent. Although we once engaged Yüeh in combat, isolated their forces, and then defeated them at K'uai-chi, the king of Yüeh has disciplined himself through enduring great suffering, nurtured his warriors, and harbors a burning intention to avenge himself. 31 Wait until we attack Yüeh, and then I will heed your words."

 

Tzu Kung said: "Yüeh's strength does not exceed Lu's, nor does Wu's might exceed Ch'i's. If you defer attacking Ch'i to strike Yüeh, Ch'i will have already pacified Lu. Moreover, your majesty was just now concerned with garnering a name for preserving the lost and continuing the extinguished, whereas attacking the small state of Yüeh while being frightened of mighty Ch'i is not courageous. Now the courageous never avoid hardship; the benevolent do not impoverish the straitened; the wise do not lose the moment; nor do kings extinguish generations--all just to establish their righteousness. Preserving Yüeh would display your benevolence to the feudal lords, while rescuing Lu by attacking Ch'i would impose your awesomeness on Chin. The feudal lords would then inevitably be compelled to lead each other to pay court to Wu, and hegemony will thus be achieved.

 

"Now your majesty must certainly hate Yüeh. I would like to go east for an audience with Kou-chien, king of Yüeh, to convince him to dispatch troops to support you. This will truly empty out Yüeh, although the image will be of following the other feudal lords in this concerted attack on Ch'i." Elated, the king of Wu then had Tzu Kung go to Yüeh.

 

Kou-chien, king of Yüeh, had the roads cleared, went to meet him in the suburbs, and thereafter personally escorted him to the guest house, where he asked, "How is it that such a great official has deigned to so dishonor himself with a visit to our uncivilized state?"

 

Tzu Kung replied: "I have just persuaded the king of Wu to rescue Lu by attacking Ch'i. He wants to do it but fears Yüeh and so said, 'Wait until I attack Yüeh, and then it will be possible.' Thus the destruction of Yüeh is therefore certain. Now to not have any intention to repay Wu [for permitting your survival] but yet cause them to have doubts is stupid. To be intent on taking revenge against others but let them know about it is disastrous. To allow the discovery of affairs that have not yet been initiated is dangerous. These three are great worries in undertaking affairs."

 

Kou-chien bowed twice and said: "Formerly I failed to calculate our strength, engaged Wu in combat, and ended up being in difficulty in K'uai-chi. The pain of this experience has penetrated my very bones. Day and night I have gritted my teeth and parched my mouth, seeking only to engage the king of Wu in a fatal struggle. This has been my wish."

 

Thereafter he further queried Tzu Kung, who advised: "The king of Wu is fierce and brutal, his ministers cannot withstand him. The state has been exhausted in frequent warfare, the officers and troops lack endurance, and the common people harbor resentment. The great ministers suffer from internal turmoil, and Wu Tzu-hsü has perished because of his direct remonstrance. Chancellor Po P'i controls affairs and accords with the ruler's excesses in order to preserve his own position. 32 This is the government of a doomed state. Now if your majesty were to send forth some troops to support their rescue of Lu, it would encourage their ambitions. Furthermore, if you were to send valuable treasures in order to assuage his heart and speak humbly in order to honor his court, it is certain that the king would attack Ch'i. If he engages in combat without being victorious, it would be your good fortune. If he proves victorious, then his army will certainly approach Chin. I would like to go north to have an audience with the duke of Chin and bring it about that he will attack Wu, for then Wu will inevitably be weakened. With its spirited soldiers all being spent in Ch'i and its heavy armor entangled in Chin, if your majesty exploits their exhaustion, Wu's extinction will be inevitable."

 

Kou-chien, being greatly pleased by these prospects, granted permission for Tzu Kung to see Chin and moreover sent him a hundred ounces of gold, a precious sword, and two superlative lances. 33 However, Tzu Kung did not accept them but went back to report to the king of Wu: "I respectfully reported your majesty's words to the king of Yüeh. Terrified, he said: 'I unfortunately lost my parents while still young and, failing to calculate our internal strength, attacked and thus offended the state of Wu. Our army was defeated and I was insulted, being isolated at K'uai-chi. The state was empty and overgrown with brambles, but through the great king's generosity we were able to survive and continue our ancestral sacrifices. Until I die I would never dare forget it, so what plots could I possibly entertain against the king of Wu?'"

 

Five days later Yüeh deputed the high official Wen Chung to bow before the king of Wu and say: "From the Eastern Sea where my lord Kou-chien has been established, I have been deputed to act as a minor emissary to inquire about your court. Now we happened to hear that your majesty intends to undertake great affairs, to execute the mighty and rescue the weak, put brutal Ch'i in difficulty and sustain the house of Chou. Yüeh requests permission to raise three thousand men from all over our state, and Kouchien humbly requests the privilege of personally donning stout armor and bearing sharp weapons, of serving in the front where the arrows and points fly. Moreover, your humble servant offers some twenty thousand pounds of armor that our ancestors had stored away, including iron spears and glistening swords, in order to honor your army's officers."

 

The king of Wu, greatly pleased, informed Tzu Kung: "The king of Yüeh wants to personally accompany me in our attack upon Ch'i. Should I allow it?" Tzu Kung replied: "You should not. Now to empty out a ruler's state, to employ all his masses, and moreover have the ruler follow on would not be righteous. My lord should accept his monetary gifts, allow his forces to participate, but deny the presence of the ruler himself."

 

The king of Wu assented and declined Kou-chien's suggestion. Thereupon he mobilized troops from nine commanderies to attack Ch'i while Tzu Kung departed for Chin, where he spoke with the Lord of Chin: "I have heard it said that if plans are not first determined, it will be impossible to respond to exigencies; if the troops are not first ordered, it will be impossible to conquer the enemy. Now Ch'i and Wu are about to engage in battle. If Wu fails to be victorious, Yüeh will certainly cause disorder there. If they manage to conquer Ch'i, their troops will inevitably approach Chin."

 

The duke of Chin, seriously troubled, inquired, "What should we do?" Tzu Kung responded, "Prepare your weapons and rest your troops while awaiting them." The ruler agreed. Tzu Kung departed and went to Lu. The king of Wu indeed engaged Ch'i in battle at Ai-ling and inflicted a serious defeat. He captured the troops of seven generals and remained in the field, not returning to Wu but, as predicted, approaching Chin to confront them above Yellow Pool. When Wu and Chin fought for supremacy, Chin mounted an attack and severely defeated Wu's armies. The king of Yüeh learned of it, forded the Yangtze River, and suddenly attacked Wu, encamping seven kilometers from the capital. The king of Wu heard about these developments, abandoned Chin, returned to Wu, and engaged Yüeh in battle at Five Lakes. He failed to be victorious in three battles and could no longer defend the city gates. Yüeh's forces then surrounded the king's palace, killed King Fu-ch'ai, and executed Chancellor Po P'i. Three years after destroying Wu, Yüeh faced east and became recognized as hegemon. Thus once Tzu Kung ventured forth, he preserved Lu, brought chaos to Ch'i, destroyed Wu, and achieved hegemony for Yüeh. Tzu Kung's single mission caused the strategically powerful states to destroy each other, and within a decade each of the five states experienced significant changes. 34 Tzu Kung loved real estate speculation and was able to profit from the material changes of the times. He enjoyed speaking about people's good points but was unable to conceal their errors. He frequently served as prime minister in Lu and Wei, and his family accumulated a fortune of one thousand ounces of gold. He finally died in Ch'i.

 

A modern reader puzzling through this lengthy biography might find Tzu Kung's reputation as an "agent" (chien) somewhat mystifying. Clearly he visited Ch'i as an overt spokesman for Lu. However, his subsequent visits, especially to Wu, which foolishly became persuaded to attack the strong state of Ch'i and eventually perished from its disregard of Wu Tzu-hsü's warning, were ostensibly to benefit the rulers he was addressing, not Lu, although they should have suspected that he was acting for Lu. Moreover, even though this was a period when diplomatic personnel frequently embarked on critical missions to save their states and acquire allies, the openness of the Warring States when peripatetic persuaders sought ready ears for their methods and strategies had not yet evolved. Tzu Kung simply acted on behalf of Lu to subvert the other states, exploiting existing conflicts and even internal dissensions, as in Ch'i. Therefore, although his work was largely overt, he has still been considered an "agent," and his activities should therefore be seen as both defining and reflecting the greater scope of the term's meaning throughout Chinese history. As the Shih Chi summarized, "Once Tzu Kung ventured forth, he preserved Lu, brought chaos to Ch'i, destroyed Wu, and achieved hegemony for Yüeh."

 

2 The Spring and Autumn Period

THE FIRST PERIOD OF CHINESE HISTORY for which narrative materials become available, known as the Spring and Autumn period after the annals that chronicle it, is normally dated from 722 to 481 B.C. The terse Ch'un Ch'iu (Spring and Autumn Annals), traditionally said to have been personally edited by Confucius to reflect his moral approbation of political behavior during an increasingly turbulent period and serve as a handbook for future generations, becomes comprehensible only through its three classic commentaries, the famous Tso Chuan and the comparatively ignored Kung Yang and Ku Liang. Because all three were composed during the subsequent Warring States period, acrimonious controversy revolves around whether they accurately record Spring and Autumn history--the basic events having been distorted by later conceptions and reinterpreted to support politicized perspectives--or may be simply inaccurate. Although the veracity of events and relevance of interpretations clearly impinge upon the chronological accuracy of any intelligence history based upon them, irrespective of their fictional or substantial nature, the episodes and beliefs recorded in the Tso Chuan equally assumed a life of their own. Once penned, circulated, and assiduously studied, the stories and events became common knowledge, trusted and applied by subsequent generations, constantly revisited by military theorists and political writers throughout the imperial period.

 

Many of the entries in the Tso Chuan, although sometimes quite cryptic, provide crucial insights into the military history and political intrigues of the Spring and Autumn period, an era that saw several of the essentially feudal states originally established by the Chou dynasty after their conquest of the Shang in 1035 B.C. become increasingly powerful and independent. Regional rivalries arose; states, whether in pursuit of power or defensive integrity, invaded each other; and warfare expanded from chariot-centered battles largely conducted by the nobility, generally limited to some ten or twenty thousand combatants, to clashes between the massive infantry armies that supplemented vastly greater chariot forces. During the Spring and Autumn period survival suddenly became a question of economic and military preparedness, political acumen, effective central government, unwavering control of the masses, mobilization capability, strength and training of standing forces, and degree of professionalism. Acquiring knowledge about other states, whether friendly or hostile, grew critical because intentions had to be fathomed, preparations made, political actions initiated, and campaigns planned. The hundreds of incidents recorded in the Tso Chuan create a vivid portrait of these developments and provide a compelling picture that the individual states conscientiously gathered military and political intelligence, even though rarely depicting clandestine agents being employed on specific missions. Tangentially, these incidents also provide a record of many other aspects of intelligence operations; incorporate materials on evaluating men and motives; show the employment of covert measures to subvert, debilitate, and betray; portray the role of omens and divination; and illustrate how knowledge thus gained was deliberately exploited. In many ways the period was more complex than the Warring States era that followed--even though the latter is associated with the inception and development of political and philosophical doctrines--simply because many more states were struggling to survive and fighting for power, dramatically multiplying the number of potential alliances. In contrast, by the commencement of the Warring States period only seven significant states remained, virtually locked in an interminable death struggle.

 

 

Time and Communications

In the Spring and Autumn period cities were largely isolated, scattered about a rural countryside still marked by major woods and extensive marshes. Transportation and mounted communication were limited to ox-drawn carts and wagons, horse-drawn carriages, and military- style chariots. All three modes were equally constrained by the primitive road systems, which often became impassable quagmires after rain or snow, and somewhat impeded by the varying track widths found in different regions. Pack animals were also employed and mercantile goods increasingly circulated, particularly in areas with water transportation. However, the average person traveled, if at all, on his feet, while horses were not ridden for several more centuries, thereby precluding the establishment of the swift messenger services found in the imperial period, always remaining comparatively few and expensive throughout Chinese history.

 

These circumstances fundamentally affected the transmission of information and therefore its nature and relevance. A highly dedicated messenger proceeding on foot could perhaps achieve twenty miles per day for a sustained period and someone driving a fleet chariot easily double, but without prepositioned relay stations, a change of horses, and great urgency, the normal transmission of ordinary diplomatic and military information was severely constricted. However, the impact of these limitations was considerably ameliorated by the lengthy period needed to mobilize armies and advance them across similarly constricted terrain. Roads not being open thoroughfares, army columns would be strung out for miles, while innumerable logistical problems had to be solved and discipline maintained. For example, speakers in the Tso Chuan noted that approximately three months were required to respond to a military threat developing some two thousand kilometers away, to put forces on target from the date news was received, assuming the existence of a minimal standing force that might be rapidly provisioned and dispatched. When resisting an invader coming from some distance, the defenders would normally enjoy a preparation time of days or weeks based upon a sustained army advance of perhaps twelve milesper day compared with the slowest messenger's rate of twenty to forty and a normal transmission time for vital information between states of several days. 1

 

Unlike later historical periods when, for example, messages are said to have been hidden in wax or rice balls--a development facilitated by the discovery and popularization of paper in the late Han dynasty--little information has been preserved about communication techniques. Apart from messages simply memorized by couriers and oral presentations extemporaneously composed, brush-written characters furnished the standard medium. Therefore the key questions simply become what materials could be written upon and how they might be protected from water since moisture would render the message illegible.

 

During the Spring and Autumn period two materials were widely employed: narrow, thin slats of wood--usually bamboo--and cloth, especially silk. The bamboo slips could be bound together with cords and rolled up when more than a couple of sentences were required. Cumbersome and bulky, they might serve adequately for diplomatic personnel and others unlikely to be searched or molested, but clearly not in doubtful circumstances or where robbers and brigands might attack, especially as captured information could prove valuable. Conversely, silk and other cloth materials might easily be written upon and easily concealed, whether under layers of clothing or in innocuous objects. (No doubt garment linings and undergarments frequentl served to communicate clandestine messages, although there are no concrete references to it in this early period.) Hard objects, such as bowls, vessels, and wooden items, might also have messages written or inscribed upon them in relatively obscure places. However, because writing materials were limited in antiquity, great reliance was placed upon memory, and prodigious feats in this regard remain legion. Insofar as entire books were commonly memorized for study purposes and their subsequent recitation deemed flawless, lengthy diplomatic or military communiqués could be similarly treated. The difficulty--or more correctly, the fatal flaw--is that the messenger himself not only had to be physically present to verbalize his report, but also had to be in a conscious, unimpaired condition. Anyone suspected of conveying covert information could easily be detained, poisoned, or otherwise slain en route, the contents then irretrievably lost. In contrast, messages committed to writing existed independently of their originators or carriers and could be passed from person to person, forwarded innocuously, even unknowingly, without arousing suspicion, especially when buried among merchandise being plied by the itinerant traders increasingly common in the period.

 

Naturally such difficulties with communication means and modes not only restricted the range of possible covert activities, but also made the passing of information from clandestine sources to their consumers more difficult, often necessitating perilous face-to-face contact. An informant, traitor, or agent might have vital information but nothing at hand beyond a dining plate upon which to write. This conjures up imaginative scenes of people desperately trying to wedge bulky dishes or even valuable items into a dead drop outside a privy wall or burying them in a stable's straw for later retrieval where some bumpkin might suddenly stumble upon them! Although the advent of paper obviously facilitated clandestine communications, mere inconvenience and difficulty never deterred the truly determined, particularly when the fate of the state or vast rewards lay at stake.

 

 

Terminology and Agents

In an age that basically lacked organized intelligence staffs or distinctly defined functions, information had to be gathered from every available source. Particularly important would have been the relatively few travelers; emigrants, although low socioeconomic status would generally have precluded access to vital information; diplomatic missions, tasked with both specific evaluative missions and general observation; merchants; and defectors from among the military and nobility. The Tso Chuan depicts a wide range of intelligence activities, the practice of which can easily be followed down through the ages and will be again