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Sun Tzu wrote, When an army is overthrown and its leader slain, the cause will surely be found among these five dangerous faults. Let them be a subject of meditation.
That’s not just instruction — it’s a demand for reflection. Sun Tzu is telling us that defeat doesn’t usually arrive out of nowhere. It grows out of patterns. Armies don’t crumble because of one unlucky strike; they fall because something at their core was already cracked. Leaders aren’t destroyed because fate turned against them; they’re undone by faults they didn’t face in time.
And here’s where it hits home: in life, we are the generals. Every project, every dream, every team, every relationship — we lead them. And when they falter, when they collapse, Sun Tzu would tell us: don’t look first at the outside forces. Look inward. Find the fault. Correct the weakness before it becomes a wound.
He named five dangerous faults that ruin leaders: recklessness, cowardice, a hasty temper, a delicacy of honor, and over-solicitude for their men. They sound ancient, but read them slowly and you’ll see yourself somewhere in them.
Recklessness — the leap without a look. We chase opportunities, we grab risks, but without preparation, courage becomes carelessness. You can’t build anything strong on chaos, no matter how passionate you are.
Cowardice — the failure to step when the ground is shaking. Fear freezes the hand, and the moment slips away. Safety becomes stagnation. The opportunity dies — not because it wasn’t there, but because we let fear talk us out of it.
A hasty temper — reacting instead of responding. Anger feels powerful, but it takes command from you and gives it to the one who triggered you. You trade control for heat, and often burn the very thing you were trying to protect.
A delicacy of honor — ego disguised as virtue. We fight battles to prove ourselves, to defend our name, to respond to insult, and all the while the mission suffers. Sometimes winning the war means letting go of the need to win every argument.
Over-solicitude — too much softness where strength is required. Love for your people, your team, your dream, is vital — but shielding it from hardship weakens it. True care strengthens, it equips, it prepares. It doesn’t protect from pressure; it prepares for it.
Sun Tzu’s warning is not about shame — it’s about awareness. Meditation on these faults is protection. Reflection is strategy. The wise general studies himself, not just his enemy. He knows his own tendencies — the ones that can be used against him — and he corrects them before battle.
So take inventory. Where are you reckless? Where are you ruled by fear, by temper, by pride, by softness out of balance? Don’t judge it — adjust it.
Wars — like lives — are won or lost not on the field, but in the heart and mind of the leader before the first blow is struck.
Lead yourself first, and no defeat will ever catch you unprepared.
Email us at [email protected]
By 22 mediaSun Tzu wrote, When an army is overthrown and its leader slain, the cause will surely be found among these five dangerous faults. Let them be a subject of meditation.
That’s not just instruction — it’s a demand for reflection. Sun Tzu is telling us that defeat doesn’t usually arrive out of nowhere. It grows out of patterns. Armies don’t crumble because of one unlucky strike; they fall because something at their core was already cracked. Leaders aren’t destroyed because fate turned against them; they’re undone by faults they didn’t face in time.
And here’s where it hits home: in life, we are the generals. Every project, every dream, every team, every relationship — we lead them. And when they falter, when they collapse, Sun Tzu would tell us: don’t look first at the outside forces. Look inward. Find the fault. Correct the weakness before it becomes a wound.
He named five dangerous faults that ruin leaders: recklessness, cowardice, a hasty temper, a delicacy of honor, and over-solicitude for their men. They sound ancient, but read them slowly and you’ll see yourself somewhere in them.
Recklessness — the leap without a look. We chase opportunities, we grab risks, but without preparation, courage becomes carelessness. You can’t build anything strong on chaos, no matter how passionate you are.
Cowardice — the failure to step when the ground is shaking. Fear freezes the hand, and the moment slips away. Safety becomes stagnation. The opportunity dies — not because it wasn’t there, but because we let fear talk us out of it.
A hasty temper — reacting instead of responding. Anger feels powerful, but it takes command from you and gives it to the one who triggered you. You trade control for heat, and often burn the very thing you were trying to protect.
A delicacy of honor — ego disguised as virtue. We fight battles to prove ourselves, to defend our name, to respond to insult, and all the while the mission suffers. Sometimes winning the war means letting go of the need to win every argument.
Over-solicitude — too much softness where strength is required. Love for your people, your team, your dream, is vital — but shielding it from hardship weakens it. True care strengthens, it equips, it prepares. It doesn’t protect from pressure; it prepares for it.
Sun Tzu’s warning is not about shame — it’s about awareness. Meditation on these faults is protection. Reflection is strategy. The wise general studies himself, not just his enemy. He knows his own tendencies — the ones that can be used against him — and he corrects them before battle.
So take inventory. Where are you reckless? Where are you ruled by fear, by temper, by pride, by softness out of balance? Don’t judge it — adjust it.
Wars — like lives — are won or lost not on the field, but in the heart and mind of the leader before the first blow is struck.
Lead yourself first, and no defeat will ever catch you unprepared.
Email us at [email protected]