Shōgun and the Philosophy of Deception

Shōgun and the Philosophy of Deception

Edwardo Pérez

FX Productions’ award winning 2024 adaptation of James Clavell’s 1975 novel, Shōgun (which streams on Disney+ and Hulu), dramatizes many philosophical issues—from the moral issues involving duty and the greater good depicted through the subtleties of Japanese culture, and the various codes of honor observed through rituals, especially the ritual of seppuku (such as when the character of Usami Tadayoshi decides to completely end his bloodline by offering his life and the life of his infant son in sacrifice, to preserve the honor of his name and to protect his lord, Yoshi Toranaga). Yet, one of the most interesting aspects of Hulu’s Shōgun is how it engages Sun Tzu’s Art of War, specifically, the philosophy of deception.

As Sun Tzu famously surmised, “All warfare is based on deception.” This profound truth doesn’t just echo in eternity, as Gladiator’s Maximus might say, or in the “fog of war” as Carl von Clausewitz observes, it also serves as a fundamental philosophy driving every battle in human history—not just on battlefields, but also in courtrooms, debate stages, legislative chambers, stadiums, arenas, racetracks, pool halls, and even classrooms.

In any rhetorical situation, where one social actor endeavors to sway another social actor, there is deception. As von Clausewitz famously states, “war is merely the continuation of politics by other means.” Indeed, the reverse is also true, with deception being as much a political tool for maneuvering as it is a strategy for the battlefields of war—and in the fog of war, confusion provides the perfect opportunity for deception.

In Shōgun, the character of Yoshi Toranaga (compellingly played by Golden Globe, Emmy, and SAG award winner Hiroyuki Sanada) engages in perhaps the best deception of the series—a long con that takes all ten episodes (and many deaths) to pull off and that depends on several smaller deceptions woven throughout the narrative as Toranaga works toward the goal of putting himself in place to become the Shogun—a position of power that equally combines the arenas of war and politics, given that a Shogun is essentially a supreme military leader akin to a Commander-in-Chief.

Historically, Sanada’s character, Toranaga, is based on Tokugawa Ieyasu, one of the most significant historical figures in Japanese history, who founded the Tokugawa shogunate (also known as the Edo period), which lasted 265 years, ushering in an era of peace for Japan—it wasn’t perfect (it was, after all, a hereditary military dictatorship), but it was more stable than the preceding period, which saw centuries of civil war and strife.

Of course, as Sanada notes, “In Season 1, [Toranaga] didn’t become a Shogun yet” (Jackson). And while we wait for a second season, we can admire Toranaga’s adherence to Sun Tzu’s strategy of deception.

The deception is simple: convince everyone you don’t want to be the Shogun, when being the Shogun is your actual goal, not because you crave power or military might, but because you desire peace (and because you believe that the road to peace ends with you on a throne).

History is full of dictators who talk of peace (and who believe they are the ones who can bring it), but who end up succumbing to the observation made by 19^th century British historian, Lord Acton, that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. For Shōgun’s future seasons, depending on how closely the show follows history (and because Hiroyuki Sanada is awesome), we know that Toranaga will likely be a good leader. Yet, it’s worth questioning the ethics of a man who engages in deception as a means to gain absolute power. As Sanada notes, Toranaga “says many things for strategic reasons and his real intention is sometimes mysterious” (Brzeski), or morally questionable. Nevertheless, for Sun Tzu, deception is axiomatic. We could perhaps call it a necessary evil, especially when deception involves sacrificing other people’s lives in service to the greater good.

Ordering troops into battle and knowing that many of them might not live is what military commanders do. When done well, it’s strategic. For example, in the first season of Game of Thrones, Robb Stark sacrifices 2,000 soldiers as a diversion that deceives Tywin Lannister’s army, allowing him to capture Jaime Lannister. While this turned into a victory for Robb, trading 2,000 lives for one (and for a momentary advantage in morale) is certainly debatable. But what about sending your own son to die?

In Shōgun, Toranaga’s success seems to depend as much on luck as his own deceptive plans. However, given Toranaga’s astute observations about how the people around him act, it seems possible that the death of Toranaga’s son, Nagakado, could have been part of Toranaga’s overall plan. In the narrative, Nagakado chooses to confront his uncle, Saekie—to kill Saekie, who had betrayed Toranaga, and to prove his own worth as a warrior. During the confrontation, Nagakado is almost victorious, until he slips on a puddle and hits his head on a rock, causing him to die.

Certainly, Toranaga couldn’t have planned that his son would slip to his death. Yet, given Nagakado’s behavior, Toranaga could have easily counted on Nagakado choosing to confront Saekie. Likewise, Toranaga could have also assumed that Saekie, being a Samurai warrior, would win. While we don’t know for sure, what we do know is that Toranaga used his son’s death strategically to buy more time (by observing a traditional 49-day mourning period, which frustrates Ishido). While this could have been luck, it seems deliberate, as it allows Toranaga to not just buy time, but also to buy sympathy.

It might seem callous to suggest that Toranaga uses his son’s death as a ploy for sympathy—or to suggest that Toranaga’s diminished health, which happens after his son’s death in which Toranaga appears frail and ill (with a persistent cough), is just an act (another deception). Yet, the circumstance clearly benefits Toranaga, allowing him time to maneuver and continue his grand deception through Hiromatsu and Mariko, who are both also sacrificed for the greater good.

Hiromatsu, one of Toranaga’s most trusted generals, commits seppuku after refusing to sign a letter of surrender. As Toranaga confides to Mariko, Hiromatsu’s death is intended to make Toranaga’s surrender appear genuine to Ishido. While Hiromatsu’s death moves Toranaga (perhaps even more so than Nagakado’s death), the sacrifice of Hiromatsu is a necessary part of Toranaga’s deception. So, is Mariko’s death.

Knowing that Mariko desires her own death (she’s spent years wanting to end her life and she almost commits seppuku in a ploy to force Ishido’s hand), Toranaga sends Mariko on a mission that compels her to choose to sacrifice herself—not through seppuku, but by taking the brunt of an explosion in attempt to save others from being killed, including Blackthorne and Kashigi).

And Mariki’s death serves its purpose, exposing Ishido’s treachery, as well as revealing that Toranaga’s friend, Kashigi, had aligned himself with Ishido, which Toranaga also seemed to count on—and this shows Toranaga’s willingness to let things play out. He knows Kashigi is playing both sides, so he can’t trust Kashigi enough to confide in him, but he can trust that Kashigi will betray him.

Again, it might seem like luck, but knowledge benefits Toranaga more than luck—knowledge about his own people (Nagakado, Hiromatsu, Mariko, Kashigi, and even Blackthorne), and knowledge of his enemies (not just Ishido, but the council of regents), which Toranaga gets from his spy, Muraji. Indeed, this illustrates another important lesson from Sun Tzu: the use of spies.

As Sun Tzu writes, “What enables the wise sovereign and the good general to strike and conquer, and achieve things beyond the reach of ordinary men, is foreknowledge.” And as Sun Tzu concludes, “Spies are the most important element in war, because upon them depends an army’s ability to move.” This is what makes Toranaga such an effective strategist. He waits until he has knowledge and then he acts. As Sanada explains: “He never throws the first punch or attacks first. He waits until others make their move, and then he makes his strategy” (Alexander).

And Toranaga’s strategy pays off, not just because he deceives and confuses his enemy, Ishido, but because he also deceives and confuses his own men—like Kashigi, Blackthorne, and even his own son, Nagakado, who don’t understand Toranaga’s plans, especially when Toranaga decides to surrender (or when Toranaga gives Blackthorne the honorary title of Hatamoto). And this reveals something crucial about Sun Tzu’s strategy—knowledge is required not just of your enemies, but also of your own men.

Toranaga knows his men. He knows Kashigi plays both sides, he knows Blackthorne is honorable, and he knows Nagakado is impulsive. He knows this so well, he can predict their actions and incorporate them into his plans—from escaping Osaka, to using his mourning period to feign defeat, to sending Mariko to her death. Yet, for all their admiration of Toranaga, his men don’t really know Toranaga. Only the women seem to understand.

Mariko knows Toranaga’s plans because she is part of them. Lady Ochiba, who had past dealings with Toranaga, knowns Toranaga is cunning. And Madam Gyoko, who is perhaps just as skilled in the art of war and deception as Toranaga through her ownership of Teahouses and control of courtesans (who essentially function as a spy network), is able to interpret Toranaga’s plans. So while Toranaga might deceive the men surrounding him, he is unable to deceive the women. Yet, Mariko and Gyoko don’t betray Toranaga like Kashigi does (or even turn on Toranaga like Blackthorne does). Instead, they help Toranaga, with Mariko choosing to sacrifice herself.

As Sun Tzu writes: “when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive […] Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder […] pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant […] if his forces are united, separate them. Attack him when he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected.”

This is exactly what Toranaga does, especially with Mariko’s help, because, as Sun Tzu surmises, “the general who wins a battle makes many calculations in his temple before the battle is fought. The general who loses a battle makes but few calculations beforehand.”

Or, as Gorden Gekko explains to Bud Fox in Wall Street: “The public’s out there throwing darts at a board, sport. I don’t throw darts at a board. I bet on sure things. Read Sun Tzu, The Art of War, every battle’s won, before it’s ever fought. Think about it.” Indeed, the scene concludes with Gekko telling Bud, “stop sending me information and start getting me some.”

The scene might not be as memorable as Gekko’s “Greed is good” speech, yet it’s a pivotal scene because it illustrates the principle that drives Wall Street’s narrative—it’s not just about greed, it’s about the value of information and the art of deception. This is the same principle that drives Toranaga, allowing him, unlike Gekko and Bud (who both get arrested for insider trading), to defeat his enemies and win.

Deception also allows Verbal Kint (who is really Keyser Söze) to fool everyone in The Usual Suspects. It allows Bran Stark to seek the throne in Game of Thrones. It allows Walter White to hide his identity as Heisenberg. It allows Michael Corleone to become the head of the Corleone family, and it allows Danny Ocean and his crew to rob three casinos in Ocean’s Eleven. These aren’t just good plot twists or clichéd red herrings meant to misdirect the audience. They’re examples of Sun Tzu’s strategy, where characters not only deceive others, they skillfully manipulate the circumstances of their situations to advance themselves and achieve their goals.

Yet, while the effectiveness of deception (and the use of spies) is clear when it comes to war, seizing a throne, robbing casinos, or building a meth empire, the larger point Sanada sees (and what Japan’s real history shows) is that deception might be the most effective means of achieving peace, which is what makes Shōgun different from other stories.

Indeed, it’s not for nothing that Tokugawa Ieyasu was able to establish nearly three centuries of peace. As Sanada explains, “Since I was a kid, I’ve been reading novels about [Tokugawa Ieyasu], watching movies and TV series about him. I even played Ieyasu once before (in the 1989 Japanese historical drama Oda Nobunaga). The reason I took the role this time is because I believe we need this kind of hero right now. We need the hero who brings about peace. That’s a very good message for the world — especially now when human beings around the world are fighting each other again. Shōgun shows how hard peace can be to achieve” (Brzeski).

Indeed, if von Clausewitz’s equation of war and politics rings true, then perhaps we can apply the same equation to war and peace through Sun Tzu—not in the sense that peace is a continuation of war (or war is a continuation of peace), but rather in the sense that war begets peace and peace begets war.

In Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace, characters struggle through the unpredictability of war as they seek inner peace (as well as purpose and meaning to their lives). Yet, in Sun Tzu, and especially in Shōgun, we see that war can be predictable, and that peace can be achieved through the tools of war. But we also see that peace is fragile and perhaps destined to eventually fail.

Still, perhaps Sanada is right, not just in his admiration of Tokugawa, but in his observation that we need a hero for peace. However, the question remains as to whether deception is really necessary to achieve peace? Is becoming a Shogun the only way to create a peaceful era?

As Sun Tzu states in the opening of his treatise, “The art of war is of vital importance to the state. It is a matter of life and death, a road to either safety or to ruin.” For Shōgun, what seems to matter most in how we interpret Sun Tzu is our goal in utilizing his teachings. Do we seek power for ourselves or for the sake of others? Which leads to safety and which to ruin?

For Plato, the ideal ruler of a state should be a philosopher-king who is wise and just, and who wouldn’t rule for personal gain, but for the benefit of society. For Machiavelli, on the other hand, rulers need to be pragmatic, willing to get their hands dirty when necessary. While Nietzsche suggests we overcome traditional moral systems and life’s challenges through sheer will. Where Plato sees a philosopher-king who observes traditional concepts of morality and goodness, and Machiavelli sees a ruler who needs to be less idealistic and more open to moral ambiguity, Nietzsche sees an Übermensch who transcends society’s norms and moral constraints.

In FX’s Shōgun, Toranaga is a blend of these philosophies. He’s morally good, but he’s willing to get his hands dirty. He imposes his will, but in a deceptive way. He doesn’t seek to rule through absolute power for himself. Yet, he realizes that being a Shogun is the only way to usher in a new era for the sake of everyone in Japan. As Toranaga tells Kashigi before he helps him commit seppuku: “If you win, anything is possible.”

Bio: A professor of English and assistant professor of music at Tarrant County College, Edwardo Pérez dreams of becoming a Jedi, shares Quentin Tarantino’s admiration of martial arts films, and spends his spare time ruminating on philosophy and popular culture, while desperately trying (with a kick-ass Raphael Ninja Turtle skin) to level-up on Fortnite (which his two kids have finally let him play).

Works Cited

Alexander, Bryan. “’Shogun’ finale recap: Hiroyuki Sanada explains Toranaga’s masterful

moves.” USA Today, 24 April 2024.

https://www.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/tv/2024/04/24/shogun-finale-recap-

toranaga/73412073007/

Brzeski, Patrick. “‘Shogun’ Star Hiroyuki Sanada Delves Into Finale’s Deeper Message: “We

Need the Hero Who Brings About Peace.”” HollywoodReporter.com, 25 April 2024.

‘Shogun’ Star Hiroyuki Sanada Reveals Finale’s Deeper Message

Jackson, Destiny. “‘Shōgun’ Star Hiroyuki Sanada & Bosses Tease Season 2 At Critics Choice

Awards: “People Are Going To Be Surprised As Soon As The First Episode.””

Deadline.com, 7 Feb 2025. Hiroyuki Sanada Teases ‘Shōgun’ Season 2

Sun Tzu. The Art of War. Trans. James Clavelle. Dell Publishing, 1983.