War is not something I can admit to having been fascinated by or participated in - diplomacy strikes me as a far better solution than death and destruction. That is, of course, if you exclude my short-lived, teenage attraction to the fantasy role-playing game Dungeons and Dragons: it occasionally involved using magic to obliterate armies of dwarves or bloody tavern brawls - usually over a lusty wench. Role-playing games obviously lack the gore and grit of real-life conflict. Potions and wands conjured from playing cards are far removed from sophisticated weaponry that can destroy lives, often at the push of a button from kilometres away. Whatever the differences, there is a striking similarity between the two: the best strategist always wins. That may explain why my Dungeons and Dragons days lasted mere months - I got sick of being beaten. Too often, my character was bludgeoned to a pulp because my adversary ignored my pleas of: 'Come on - let's talk this over.' My experience has not prevented me from adhering to the belief that war must only be considered when all diplomatic avenues have been exhausted. If we can truly claim to hail from advanced, 21st century cultures that have learned from the experience of history, we should not have to resort to the tactics of schoolyard bullies to settle disputes. Had the United States consulted me over its various problems with Iraq's Saddam Hussein, it would have avoided its present dilemma. US President George W. Bush might have ignored my pleas to talk, talk and talk some more with Hussein. Then I would have prescribed a quick course of Dungeons and Dragons, to teach him some basic lessons in strategy. Mr Bush's Chinese counterpart, Hu Jintao , has done his best to make up for the American leader's shortcomings by presenting him this week with a copy of the ultimate book on warfare, Chinese military strategist Sun Tzu's 512BC classic The Art of War. In it, he will find invaluable advice on how to surprise and deceive enemies and - most importantly - win wars without having to do battle. The US military has a copy somewhere, but it has clearly been lost. Former secretary of state Henry Kissinger used to swear by it; planners of the first US war against Iraq consulted it; and it is said to be used by naval intelligence officers as part of their training. Translated from Chinese 200 years ago, it redefined the way war was conducted in Europe, and is believed to have been used by Napoleon and German military officers, among others. But the book has more day-to-day uses: Japanese companies make it required reading for their top executives because of its tips on dealing with office politics and besting competitors. Western business management schools even recommend students read it for advice that can be applied to corporate culture. Some sporting teams have turned to it for inspiration, and there are even adherents in psychology: it helps to form social and work relationships if you stress subtlety and deception. But it is sage observations from the famed Chinese general, writing 2,500 years ago, that should help Mr Bush see the error of his ways. Here's one: 'If you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperilled in a hundred battles; if you do not know your enemies but do know yourself, you will win one and lose one; if you do not know your enemies nor yourself, you will be imperilled in every single battle.' If the US leader had had that in mind when preparing to go to war in Iraq, he would have given instructions that a little research be done into the ways of Shi'ites, Sunnis and Kurds. Perhaps, after such preparation, he would have delayed giving the order to attack and opted for a little more talking instead. Peter Kammerer is the Post's foreign editor
