The enduring popularity of ancient texts like The Art of War in the corporate world is a fascinating intersection of psychology, strategy, and—let's face it—a bit of opportunistic posturing. These ancient treatises, written for commanders leading men into brutal life-or-death conflicts, have found a second life as guidebooks for navigating the far less lethal (but equally cutthroat) world of business. But why are texts about war, of all things, so fetishized by executives, consultants, and entrepreneurs? Is their utility in business genuine, or is it more about the allure of seeming profound? Let’s cast a cynical eye on the this phenomenon.

The Cult of the Strategic Genius

At the core of this fascination lies the myth of the all-knowing strategist. Leaders in both ancient warfare and modern business are elevated to near-messianic status when they’re seen as visionaries. Sun Tzu’s The Art of War provides an arsenal of aphorisms that allow anyone to project an air of strategic mastery. For instance:

• “All warfare is based on deception” sounds profound but is, at its core, just common sense. In business, it translates to keeping competitors in the dark—hardly groundbreaking.

What makes such texts irresistible is their ability to make their readers feel like they’re part of an elite club of thinkers. Quoting Sun Tzu in a meeting or PowerPoint presentation adds an air of intellectual gravitas, regardless of whether the principle has practical relevance. It’s not about the insights—it’s about the image.

The Allure of Ruthlessness

Texts like The Art of War tap into a darker psychological vein: the human fascination with power and ruthlessness. Many executives secretly—or not-so-secretly—adore the idea of dominating their rivals and bending situations to their will. Warfare metaphors allow them to reframe what might otherwise be considered unethical behavior as "strategic."

For example:

• "Winning without fighting" might be interpreted in the business world as a justification for monopolistic practices or backdoor deals.

• The emphasis on exploiting weaknesses and controlling perceptions can easily be twisted into a justification for gaslighting competitors, employees, or even customers.

By cloaking these behaviours in the language of strategy rather than plain selfishness, leaders can maintain the illusion of ethical superiority while indulging in Machiavellian tactics.

The Psychology of Simplified Complexity

Ancient texts boil down complex realities into digestible aphorisms, and this reductionism appeals to corporate leaders for a very specific reason: it makes them feel in control. Running a business, much like commanding troops, is inherently chaotic. By turning to timeless “rules” such as “In chaos, there is opportunity,” leaders can impose a comforting narrative on an unpredictable world.

But this oversimplification can backfire. The corporate application of Sun Tzu often ignores the nuances of his advice. For instance:

• In warfare, understanding your enemy is a life-and-death matter. In business, it’s an ongoing negotiation. The blunt tactics of domination in war don’t always translate well to relationships with partners, employees, or consumers.

The result is a corporate culture that overestimates its own cleverness, mistaking platitudes for actionable strategies.

Escapism and Self-Mythologizing

Modern business isn’t exactly glamorous. Endless emails, budget meetings, and PowerPoint slides hardly inspire visions of greatness. Ancient warfare, by contrast, is steeped in drama, stakes, and heroism. By appropriating the language of battle, corporate leaders elevate their mundane work into something more thrilling.

It’s easier to frame a competitive market as a “battlefield” and yourself as a “general” than to acknowledge the monotony of market analysis and supply chain optimization. This psychological escapism lets executives feel heroic, even when their greatest victory is increasing shareholder value by 2%.

A Smokescreen for Amoral Practices

From a cynical perspective, one of the most troubling aspects of this trend is how it can justify unethical behaviour. The very premise of applying warfare strategies to business assumes a zero-sum game—there are winners and losers, and morality is a luxury. This mindset lends itself to toxic corporate cultures where:

• Employees are treated as expendable resources ("troops").

• Competitors are not seen as collaborators in a shared market but as enemies to be crushed.

By invoking the language of ancient texts, leaders can sidestep accountability. After all, Sun Tzu never talked about fair labor practices or environmental sustainability—so why should they?

The Emperor's New Clothes: Pseudo-Profundity

Much of the appeal of texts like The Art of War lies in their vagueness. Their maxims are so broad that they can be applied to nearly any situation, making them seem insightful regardless of context. For example:

• “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting” could mean avoiding litigation, dominating a market niche, or simply not showing up to a meeting. Its flexibility is its strength—but also its weakness.

This pseudo-profundity allows readers to project their own ideas onto the text, convincing themselves that it’s offering them unique insights. In reality, it’s often little more than a mirror reflecting their own biases.

The Profit Motive: Selling Ancient Wisdom

Let’s not overlook the fact that the business world’s obsession with warfare texts is also driven by a lucrative industry. Countless books, seminars, and workshops have been built around interpreting and applying these ancient principles to modern contexts. From self-help gurus to leadership consultants, many are eager to sell the idea that reading The Art of War will transform you into a corporate titan.

The reality is that most of these teachings are either obvious or impractical when stripped of their mystique. But the mystique sells—and it sells well.

Simply Put

The use of ancient warfare texts in business isn’t entirely without merit—there are genuine lessons about strategy, adaptability, and leadership to be gleaned. However, their application is often superficial, self-serving, or downright harmful. In many cases, these texts serve less as practical guides and more as psychological crutches, allowing business leaders to mask their insecurities, justify their ruthlessness, or simply sound smarter than they are.

Perhaps the real lesson isn’t from Sun Tzu or any other ancient general, but from observing how eagerly people adopt these ideas without questioning whether they truly fit the world they inhabit. Like so many things in modern business, the fascination with ancient warfare is as much about appearances as it is about substance.