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An Instructors Perspective
Chotoku Kyan - Of Vice and Virtue
Gasshuku - The Austere Path
Getting The Bit Between Your Teeth
Satsuken and Katsuken (The sword that kills Vs the sword that gives life
The Japanophile Syndrome


An Instructors Perspective

 Why Do We Do It? - a question I am sure every instructor has asked themselves when they feel things are getting on top of them. Is my suit here yet, when do I get my license, am I ready for my next grading, the list of questions is endless.

So why do we do it? What makes ordinary people take up an activity that can consume most of their personal time and life! There are instructors like myself who have been involved in Karate for over 20 years, yet we are babies in comparison with others who have dedicated more than 30 to 40 years.

Is karate a hobby or a way of life, there is no definitive answer. Each person must dig deep and find within themselves the reason for turning up at the dojo time after time. But what about the instructors, what motivates them to turn up and try and help others.

From my own perspective, my choice was partly made for me. On achieving the grade of Sho-Dan my friend and I were hit with the bombshell that our sensei was leaving the club to pursue his own personal training and development. This left us with three options:

That was in 1987 and now, twenty years later we both have strong successful clubs. I made a lot of mistakes in the early years, and I suppose I still do today, after all, I am only human. The decision to take on a club at such an early stage in my karate career was made easier by the support of the members of the club. For me it was a chance to give back some of the knowledge and experiences I had received during my time as a student.

Instructors have numerous pressures placed upon them when they start up a club. There's the time factor for one. As well as living a normal everyday life, going to work, with all the stress that it can entail, they still find the energy and commitment to turn up and teach. If a student has a bad day at work and does not feel like training, they simply don't turn up. Nobody will miss one person for one night, but this is a luxury that an Instructor cannot afford. If they don't turn up, NO CLASS!

In Japan and even Europe in the old days, it was an honour and privilege to be accepted by an instructor as a student. We have read many a story of a student pestering an instructor for days on end to teach them. Trying to show them that they are worthy of becoming one of their students.

Nowadays, due to costs, it seems the roles have become reversed, with the instructor trying to persuade the student that he is better that the other club instructor just down the road. The motivation for most being money. I have nothing against professional karate instructors, far from it, some of the most knowledgeable people I know, are professionals. Yes they are paid for their services but they don't abuse it. They charged what they need to survive and make no bones about it being their profession. In return they offer an excellent service in schooling people in the art of karate and ensuring that then end result provides more decent, well skilled karateka.

Others however, feel that money is the primary objective. They don't just want enough so that they can cover their dojo fees, they want it all. In the early 90's I was fortunate enough to be in a position where the community centre I used did not charge us for the use of their hall. They looked on it as being a contribution back into the local community. As a result of this and the fact that my club is and always has been a non profit making organisation, we charged all our students £1 per session.

Juniors and Seniors paid the same dojo fee and for £1 they received three hours training in karate (1.5 hours each). Today my juniors pay £2 for 1 hour and my seniors £2.50 for nearly two hours, and today, as then, I and my assistant instructors receive no remuneration whatsoever.

So, if I don't get paid for it, why do I do it? Why do I give up 9 hours per week to teach plus attend seminars and courses? The answer is easy, well at least it is to me. Karate is not a sport, I don't "play karate", and its surpassed being a hobby. To me karate is a passion, something that is close to my heart and an important part of my life. Something that not only makes me fitter, able to defend myself, but a better person, more understanding and more compassionate.

I will continue t put back into the club what I took out as a student, I will continue to pass on my knowledge as well as receive knowledge from others. Most of all I will continue to enjoy my passion.

Instructors, ask yourselves these questions.
  1. How long have been a practitioner and teach of karate?
  2. What else in my life have I been involved in for this length of time?
  3. Why do I do it?

You will be surprised by your answers.
Yours in Budo
Steve

Courtesy Sensei S. McKenzie Takumi Karate Do Edinburgh


Chotoku Kyan - Of Vice and Virtue

 One of the most influential Martial Artists during the early part of this Century was Chotoku Kyan of the Shorinji Ryu. He was born in 1870 into a high ranking Okinawan family and was the third son of Chofu Kyan, a steward to Sho Tai, the King of the Ryukyus at that time. In 1871, the Japanese Government annexed the Ryukyu kingdom and re-named the archipelago "Ryukyu-han", after which there was a systematic change to the culture in Ryukyu and in 1879 King Sho Tai was exiled to Tokyo. Chofu Kyan accompanied the King to Japan and took with him the now nine year old Chotoku, where he was to receive his academic schooling. Some time later Chotoku Kyan returned to his native Okinawa where following an introduction from his father, he began his Karate training when 20 years old under the watchful guidance of Ankoh Itosu1, Kosaku Matsumora and Kokan Oyadomori. According to Shoshin Nagamine, Kyan's father had a knowledge of Karate or Ti and taught his son the rudiments of wrestling when he was young, but rather than try to teach his son Karate himself, he entrusted this task to others. Nagamine believes the reason for this is that he (Chofu) was reluctant to teach his son Karate as he was too attached to Chotoku to teach him in the severe manner that Karate demanded.

Under these renowned Karate Masters he learned both Tomari-te and Shuri-te reaching a degree of expertise by the time he turned 30. It is thought that in Shuri-te, he learned from Sokon Matsumura the kata Sesan, Naifuanchi and Gojushiho and from Yara Chatan he learned Kushanku (Kanku/Kosokun). In Tomari-te he learned Passai kata from Kokan Oyadomari, Wanshu from Maeda (Saneida) and Chinto from Kosaku Matsumora. He also learned the kata Annanku from an anonymous Taiwanese who is supposed to have visited Okinawa. Another version of how he came by this kata is that Kyan brought the kata back with him after a trip to Taiwan In "Fighting Arts International" (No 52), Graham Noble in his excellent study of the Shorin Ryu Masters offers an additional opinion: He (Graham ) states that he is not happy with the theory that Kyan learned it from a Taiwanese, mainly because the kata does not look Chinese, an opinion I too share. He goes on to propose that another version of events whereby Kyan learned the kata from his father or alternatively presents the possiblitity that Kyan may have developed the kata himself. In addition to these Karate Kata, it is said that Kyan also learned the Bo kata Tokumine no Kon , from Tokumine in Yaeyama. Chozo Nakama however, says that by the time Kyan visited Yaeyama, Tokumine had already died and it was Tokumine's landlord who taught him the Bo kata having learned this from Tokumine previously.

As a child, it is reported by various sources that Kyan was small, thin and somewhat weak - characteristics which seem to be common amongst some of the early Karate Masters. Kyan is also said to have been an asthma sufferer and frequently bed-ridden. Even when fully grown, he was of very slight build and looked positively fragile. He carried a nickname of Chan Mi-Gwa (Small-eyed Kyan) although the reason for this too is unclear. Some say it is because he had a squint, others say it was because he had narrow eyes or was poorly sighted or blind in one eye, but Hoshu Ikeda offers another explanation for Kyan's Nom de Guerre.

"His method of training was never to wear a gi top. This was to allow the air to temper the skin and allowed detailed observation of the muscles. This was considered to be a sophisticated attitude to training at that time. This half-naked method allowed him to make detailed observations of the movement and tension of the students' muscles and his habit of fixing his eyes rigidly on the student to see if he was using his muscles correctly earned him the name of "Mi-gwa"

According to Shoshin Nagamine, Kyan lived in poverty throughout his adult life although this may have been in part due to his reputation for travelling2, frequenting houses of ill-repute and engaging in drinking sessions. Choshin Chibana is reported as saying that Kyan used to visit brothels and was keen on travelling, often going on excursions with his two favourite students Ankichi Aragaki and Taro Shimabuku. In his book "Karate Do to Ryukyu Kobudo", Katsumi Murakami maintains that Kyan taught Aragaki and Shimabuku more than just Karate saying that Karate practice was not enough and they should engage in bouts of drinking and associate with prostitutes to complete their training!! I leave it to you to muse over the reasons for this advice!

As well as teaching his students at his home at night (when Kyan would insist that Aragaki and Shimabuku should not use lanterns to light their way but should try to develop their night vision), Kyan also taught Karate at the Okinawan School for Agriculture and at Kadena Police Station. Kyan's two main students would often accompany their teacher to cock-fights of which Kyan was most fond. On one occasion, the two disciples decided to test their teacher and started an argument with a number of village youths, promptly running off to leave Kyan to fend for himself. Kyan fought his attackers off whilst still clutching his precious bird, using just one arm to defend himself!

Amongst Kyan's other students were Shoshin Nagamine, Joen Nakazato, Tatsuo Shimabuku and Eizo Shimabuku. Occasionally he would give a demonstration of Karate with Choshin Chibana, performing "Passai" and Bo Kata (presumably the aforementioned Tokumine No Kon), and at the opening of Shoshin Nagamine's dojo in 1942, he performed Karate before Admiral Kenwa Kanna. At this time Kyan was 73 years old and Nagamine is credited with having said, "His beautiful performance at the age of 73 could still exalt his audience to the quintessence of karate-do"

Kyan's Karate must have been effective as there are more than a few instances of his being challenged and according to the Okinawans, he was never beaten in a fight. Due to his build, Kyan chose not to try to win by brute force, but would defend using evasive tactics and then counterattack quickly. On one occasion when Kyan and his two disciples were on a trip to Hokkaido in northern Japan, they were challenged by a local fighter, Sampu Taku. Kyan's advice to Aragaki was for him to use a one-strike knockout punch after having stepped back carefully to the edge of the arena, should the protagonist make a move against him. It is not recorded whether there was any outcome to this particular challenge.

Colourful though his life was, what with the womanising and drinking, Kyan is viewed in his native Okinawa as one of the most important figures in the history of Karate. It is without question that he has had an influence on the development of the Shorin styles such as Matsubayashi Ryu, Chuba Shorin Ryu, Isshin Ryu, (Shaolin) Shorin Ryu and Ryukyu Shorin Ryu. Even though he was clearly a most resourceful and resilient character, managing to survive the Battle of Okinawa during which nearly 60,000 Okinawan civilians were killed, he died shortly afterwards in September of 1945 at the age of 76, from fatigue and malnutrition.

NOTES: 1. In a number of sources Kyan is listed as being a student of Ankoh Itosu but his versions of kata differ markedly from the Itosu forms. Choshin Chibana does not list Kyan as one of Itosu's students but attributes his teaching to Kokan Oyadomori. If there was any influence from Itosu , it is conceivable therefore that this influence was not extensive. 2. An interesting side to Kyan's character is that portrayed by the account told by Katsumi Murakami in Karate Do to Ryukyu Kobujutsu, wherein he says that Choshin Chibana had told him that Kyan used to go the brothels at Tsuji and was keen to travel. In order to fund these sojourns, it was not unknown for Kyan to mislead his wife. His wife had to work as a pig breeder and dyer of cloth. Each time a pig produced a litter or became ready to sell, Kyan would insist on taking the pigs to the market himself where he would sell the piglets. He would only give his wife a proportion of the money he had earned, keeping the rest for himself to pay for his excursions and womanising.

© Copyright Phil Snewin 1998. All rights reserved


Gasshuku - The Austere Path

 It is traditional amongst schools of the Japanese martial arts to hold annual training camps, or Gasshuku at least once a year. These aren't the sort of training seminars which we are familiar with in the West but are something much, much more. Gasshuku was traditionally looked upon as a special period spent training amongst nature, when the body can be renewed, revitalising one's enthusiasm for training and giving students a glimpse of what they are capable. However, to fully understand the Why's and Wherefore's of Gasshuku, we need to understand a little more about the religious underpinnings of the Shinto religion and how it fits into the whole Gasshuku, process.

Shinto is the indigenous religion of Japan and has been part of their culture and history since the earliest times. This religion exists only in Japan where it underlies many of the basic structures of family and social life. Being a polytheistic religion, a vast pantheon of Kami (divinities, gods or spirits) are venerated, from the local deities of mountains or streams to the Sun goddess Amaterasu. Natural phenomena and particularly places, are personified as Kami. It is also the custom that the forefathers of family traditions and crafts are revered as Kami and the Emperor himself was long regarded as a living Kami. The practice of Shinto consists chiefly of worshipping, propitiating and otherwise dealing with the Kami. Shinto traditionally emphasises purity and regards death, disease, blood and filth as obnoxious. Elaborate rituals are undergone to purge these impurities (Kagare), the most common method of which is by ablution (misogi), ranging from the customary rinsing of the mouth and hands before worship to standing naked under a waterfall. A pure heart, distinguished by it's sincerity was regarded as most favoured by the Kami. So we can see that the intrinsic Japanese religion is very strongly influenced by nature and reveres tradition, sincerity and purity of heart - virtues which were expounded by the likes of Funakoshi and his contemporaries.

Gasshuku could be looked upon as being the Martial Arts equivalent of a good spring clean! It provides the opportunity to really blow the cobwebs away and to train hard for a couple of days, and maybe even to provide an opportunity for introspection - to look at and to evaluate ourselves. So what is involved? The following is an account of the training we undergo in our school, and is reflective of the regular Gasshuku which is held each year in September.

We must not lose sight of the fact that Karate is an austere discipline - that is to say it is not an easy road that we travel. To quote an oft-used saying, it could be said to be the "school of hard knocks"! Therefore a Gasshuku should be reflective of this and with the underlying purpose being to provide a puritative effect, Gasshuku too should be suitably austere. It is for this reason that when holding our own Gasshuku we choose not to sleep in comfy, warm hotels and Bed & Breakfast houses, but rather to enjoy the proximity to nature that sleeping under canvas affords. Our Gasshuku takes place at a time in the year when the first frosts of Autumn can creep their way into the Snowdonian valleys on particularly still, clear nights. However, as there is a balance in all things, the discomfort of a cold night in a tent is offset by the chance to view the Milky Way without the interference of streetlight pollution. The outline shadows of the surrounding peaks provide a natural frame for a myriad of stars, the single purpose of which seems to be to highlight one's insignificance in the Great Scheme of Things.

If the Gods are kind, early morning brings a ruddy glow to the mountain directly overlooking our campsite and an impressive view greets the students. (Arrival at the campsite is carefully timed to take place in the dark so the natural bowl of peaks which surround us is hidden from the students, thereby giving them a pleasant surprise as they awake stiff-limbed and bleary-eyed for the early morning run. At around 6am, everyone is taken on a brief 3-mile cross-country run up the mountain to warm them up a bit and to give them an appetite for their breakfast! Our campsite has a mountain stream running through it which takes a right angle path at one point. Here, because the flow of water has eaten away at the scenery, the stream has widened and slowed and has formed a natural bathing area. For those with the fortitude, this provides a gentle introduction to misogi as even though it is icy cold water straight from the mountains, it moves slowly and is not as distinctive as what comes later for a few!

After breakfast is cleared away, we journey to the site of our dojo. This short trip also provides some awe inspiring views with mountains all around and waterfalls crashing down their broad flanks. Our small dojo is beside a mountain stream at the bottom of a valley which is surrounded by nine hilltops (- a very propitious number in Japan as it signifies three threes). We have not yet worked out whether the dragons sleeping under these nine peaks are Japanese or Welsh!! The stream comes straight from the mountain directly in front and this peak provides a very natural Joza or Shomen (high seat) for the dojo.

The system of Karate which we study is called Kamishin Ryu which means "Divine Heart School" and Shinto plays a part in some of the rituals and ceremonies we observe. In such auspicious surroundings as this, it seems only fitting that a full Shinto bow, such as is made at our Honbu dojo, is performed in veneration of the Kami. (We have an in-joke that the good weather we have enjoyed at this venue for the last nine years is as a direct result of paying our respects to the Gods!) After bowing-in, we undergo a short period of mokuso. This is quite an important part of the introduction to Gasshuku as for some, it may their first excursion into the countryside. The senses are positively assaulted by new sounds, smells, textures etc., and if we are not careful, we can fall into the trap of looking at all this natural beauty without actually seeing it. This brief period of quiet contemplation serves to highlight this fact.

I like to give my students an opportunity to train with other instructors and Gasshuku is an ideal occasion to do this. At our latest Gasshuku, my friend and colleague Harry Cook consented to come and be guest Instructor and an excellent time was had by all! Each year the training tends to fall into the same format: A kata is chosen for the weekend, which is then broken down and practised in various ways. The Kata that Harry and I selected for the Gasshuku was the Naha-te kata Kururunfa. After a warm-up Harry ran everyone through the kata at a slow pace as an introduction to what was to come. We then broke the kata down into it's component kihon waza and these were then repeated over and over. After that came a return to the kata and lots of repetitions of the bit that had just been practised and so this went on. A Gasshuku is not however just a course in technique or kata - it must involve some spiritual content on a personal level. That is to say we should each of us struggle with some aspect of ourselves during the period. For some it may be just to try and get a grip on a kata which is far beyond their abilities - for others it may be to try to rekindle enthusiasm for their studies - some may be looking for some kind of religious experience. Whichever it may be it has to be on a personal level and it must be able to be worked at throughout the weekend.

One element of an austere process such as Gasshuku, is pushing yourself that little bit harder than you normally do in the dojo. At the end of each session, Harry came up with some very interesting exercises designed to push one to the limit of fatigue. One such was to find a large boulder which you could just about manage to carry. Find four or five other students and stand them in a semicircle around you at a safe(!) distance. Throw the boulder towards the first man who then picks it up and throws it back. You must dodge it then pick it up and throw it to the second man who does the same and so on... It doesn't take long before you reach the fatigue barrier! One strange phenomenon occasionally encountered on Gasshuku is one's ability to transcend this physical and mental fatigue. It is more than simply getting your second wind as the effect can last for many hours, indeed each day consists of at least six hours hard training. Similarly, as the hours go by, the intensity and ferocity of the attacks increases and yet the ability of even the most inexperienced student is sufficient to defend against these.

Another aspect of Gasshuku training is water practice. For this we move into the stream where we practice Ippon Kumite, Kaeshu Ippon Kumite and Bunkai from the Kata. The stream is only knee deep but the bottom is covered with large slippery boulders which make it very easy to fall over. When someone is trying to punch your lungs out of your back, it makes it even harder to stand up! This is not a lesson in humiliation however, as the purpose of the exercise is to try to improve balance and posture. The fact that it is cold and wet just adds to the discomfort and awkwardness of the session!

One thing we have not touched upon much yet is the business of purification or misogi. One of the main purposes of our Gasshuku is the symbolic purification and re-stimulation of our enthusiasm for training. One particularly significant element of Gasshuku in this process is the use of a waterfall. Dan Grades and Dan Grade candidates are expected to sit for a while under the waterfall as symbolically, this is the climax of the weekend for them as it is a test of their fortitude and reserve. The waterfall is not particularly high but is fairly strong. Those undergoing the experience sit on a rock under the full torrent for what seems like about ten minutes but in reality can be anything up to half an hour. There is insufficient space here for a full account of the method and sensations experienced, and not only that, this process should be a very personal thing and is unique to each student. Suffice to say that for some, it is an exhilarating experience, for others it is more spiritual, and for some it is just a period of discomfort!

What is interesting is that each student gets something very personal from their Gasshuku and so should it be thus. Whilst Gasshuku has a technical element in the process - the learning and practising of a new kata for example - for us, that is not the main reason for going. It gives us that opportunity to look at ourselves and to be a little self critical. By leaving the trappings and comforts of everyday civilisation behind, even just for a short while, we can get back to what is really important. Training hard makes you feel alive, especially if the sun is on your face, or the rain on your back and training amongst nature serves to highlight our insignificance in the Big Picture, and hopefully can help us to become a little more humble. We all have goals to achieve, fears to overcome and ghosts to conquer. Gasshuku provides us with part of strength that we need to walk the lifelong path that we have chosen.

© Copyright Phil Snewin 1998. All rights reserved.


Getting The Bit Between Your Teeth

 Working as I used to do as Coaching Director for one of the UK's Karate Associations, afforded me an insight into the methods and standards of quite a lot of the Karate that is generally taught in the UK today, and not just within this Association but also in others throughout the UK. The job takes me around the country and allows me to see different styles and clubs at practice. Generally the standard of what is taught as traditional karate is, on a technical basis, fairly high. Occasionally however, there appears to be a vital ingredient missing in what goes on. In previous articles, I have tried to get you to think about what we do and why, and sometimes I feel it is down to the fact that we forget the original reasons for practicing karate that this vital ingredient seems to be conspicuous by its absence. So how do we get some degree of realism back into our training methods without recourse to battering the living daylights out of each other? The answer may partly lie in using drills of various types. Anybody who wants to become highly skilled in any of the martial arts needs to develop certain attributes. We must pay very close attention to detail, we must be critical of our own standards and abilities and most importantly, we must practice daily and receive the guidance of a good teacher. In karate, we have many different methods of training to develop our skills, ranging from basic technique practice through kata to various forms of pairwork and sparring practice. However, the basis of this article revolves around the use of drills so it is this element of training that we will concentrate on. It is generally accepted that balanced practice in Karate and for that matter, most of the classical Japanese Martial Arts should include practice of kata, some form of randori or sparring practice, basics practice and also repetitive drills. Repetitive drills can fill the gap between sparring and fighting and act as a natural extension of Kata Bunkai. Drills can produce high levels of skill by nature of their method. By constant practice of certain movements and principles, we can condition our bodies to respond in certain ways. A scientist by the name of Pavlov conducted behavioural experiments with dogs to prove that our reflexes can be conditioned, and also our behavioural response to certain stimuli. In his experiments, he would feed a number of dogs and at the same time, he would ring a bell. This he continued to do for a while, and each time the dogs were fed, the bell would be rung. However, after a period of time, he then would ring the bell on a random basis without feeding the dogs. The result was that the dogs would salivate profusely in anticipation of a meal. In other words, Pavlov could induce salivation in his dogs simply by ringing a bell. This is what is termed as a conditioned reflex - a reflex action which can be learned. What has all this to do with karate? With drills we are attempting to do the same thing - create a learned reflexive response to a stimulus.

In ringing the bells, Pavlov was exposing his subjects to a particular stimulus. The dogs salivation was a naturally occurring response to this stimulus after they had learned to associate the bell with food. In karate, we can draw a parallel with this by providing stimuli of our own. We can launch specific attacks at each other, for which there will be a specific response. If we are successful, we don't get thumped In other words, the attack is the stimulus and our technique and evasive movements are our learned response but only after they have been practiced many, many times to the point when they become a reflex action.

I was teaching Saifa recently at an kata course at which there were students from various different styles. When we had studied the kata itself, we then proceeded to look at the bunkai. In order to give the kata some meaning we then set about practicing various combinations from the kata in a continuous manner, with one person attacking and the other then performing a defence. However, instead of ending things there as in Ippon Kumite, the attacker would counter the defence and using good footwork and body movement would attack again which would then be countered again with the next move from the kata. This process would go on until we had learned a sequence of totally different attacks and counter attacks joined together, the defence for which were all of the movements and techniques from the kata. This gave us a drill which not only incorporated all of the combinations from the Kata but also gave us the opportunity to realise that good footwork and movement is a vital ingredient in our martial art. Once one side had practiced the drill, we would then swap over. (In fact the drill could be run from one side to the other without stopping and so it can be come a continuous drill.)

Afterwards, a number of the students approached me and said that they had never done anything like this before and that most of their training took the form of the three K's - Kihon, Kata and Kumite. In their classes, they only practiced Basics, Kata form (no bunkai), and Free Sparring, which got me thinking. How many other clubs and schools across the country do likewise and are missing out on a worthwhile and enjoyable aspect of study? I know that the Karate system I study is not the only one to incorporate drills such as this, but my experience in the Coaching role has shown me that generally speaking, drills seem to be restricted to the more classical systems than those predisposed to a more modern approach.

Studying Kobujutsu with Julian Mead has illustrated this point on many occasions, as within the Ryukyu Kobujutsu Association syllabus, there are many drills for each weapon . In time, the practice of these drills whilst initially appearing to restrict one's freedom of movement and technique by conforming to a pre-arranged sequence, actually gives one more flexibility in using the weapon concerned as the body rather than the mind makes the defensive move. Classical swordsmanship also makes use of drills. In the Katori Shinto Ryu, there are many drills of this type, all of which are designed to improve technique, speed and manoeuvrability, as well as teaching fundamental principles such as distancing and awareness. In traditional Iwama Ryu Aikido as taught by Morihiro Saito Sensei paired drills for Ken and Jo are also practiced. So how can we incorporate this aspect of training into our daily training regimen if this is not already the case? Ippon Kumite would act as an introduction to this process but it need not stop there. From Ippon Kumite, we can progress to Kaeshu Ippon Kumite and then we can build the responses to incorporate greater variations and techniques. My advice however would be to look more closely at kata, as within all of these there is more than sufficient opportunity to analyse and practice drills. One thing to remember though - if at any stage you start to hear bells or end up dribbling all over your gi, get down to the vets quickly! Happy training!

© Copyright Phil Snewin 1998. All rights reserved.


Satsuken and Katsuken (The sword that kills Vs the sword that gives life

 Swords, and by extension all weapons, have always occupied something of an ambiguous place in Western culture. At first glance it all seems pretty obvious; swords are tools designed to cut, hack, slash and dismember an enemy, and that is all. We are warned that 'those who live by the sword shall die by the sword', while those 'that beat their swords into ploughshares' are praised for their civilising actions. However the sword is not simply portrayed as an implement of destruction. Somewhat confusingly we are presented with the sword as a symbol of desirable civilised virtues, most obviously those of justice and protection. According to St. Mathew Jesus told his followers 'I came not to send peace, but a swordi and in the account of the Last Supper found in St. Luke's Gospel, Jesus advises his followers to acquire weapons, saying 'he that hath no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one.ii

According to legend King Arthur received the magical blade Excalibur as proof of divine favour, while to the Knights of the middle ages the sword represented the highest ideals enshrined in the Code of Chivalry. The traveller, adventurer and scholar Sir Richard F. Burton explained in The Book of The Sword [1884] that 'In knightly hands the sword acknowledged no Fate but that of freedom and free-will; and it bred the very spirit of chivalry, a keen personal sentiment of self-respect, of dignity, and of loyalty, with the noble desire to protect weakness against the abuse of strength. the knightly sword was ever the representative idea, the present and eternal symbol of all that man most prized - courage and freedom...The weapon was held everywhere to be the best friend of bravery, and the worst foe of perfidy; the companion of authority, and the token of commandment; the outward and visible sign of force and fidelity, of conquest and dominion, of all that Humanity wants to have and wants to be.iii

In a nineteenth century work on Chivalry the author, Dr. F. Kottenkamp, lists a number of important symbolic aspects of the sword. These include :- The thirteenth century French poem 'Hugh of Tiberias' [Hue de Tabarie] describes the ceremonies observed when the status of knight was bestowed. The poem tells of Hugh, Prince of Tiberias, who is taken prisoner by the great Islamic warrior Saladin. Saladin graciously allows Hugh to return to his home to collect his ransom, but before he leaves, Saladin asks Hugh to make him a knight. After the initial stages of purification, Saladin is given clothes and equipment all of which have a symbolic as well as a practical aspect. Finally Saladin was given a two handed sword, and Hugh explained that 'The one edge is intended for your self-defence; the other must serve to protect the poor from being trodden down by the rich, and you are bound to support the weak, when the powerful seek to ill-treat them.'

So we can see that while on one level the sword was simply an instrument used to kill an enemy, it also had a symbolic value which incorporated a range of admirable moral values such as compassion for the weak, justice, loyalty, and honesty.

In Oriental cultures we can find a similar situation. The great Taoist sage Lao Tzu wrote 'Arms are instruments of ill omen, not the instruments of the gentleman. When one is compelled to use them, it is best to do so without relish. There is no glory in victory, and to glorify it despite this is to exult in the killing of men. One who exults in the killing of men will never have his way in the Empire.v

The Confucian school had similar views, as they believed that the self evident force of superior learning and morality was all that was really required to achieve the mandate of Heaven.

The samurai class rose to prominence in Japan after the Gempei War [1180-1185]. The victorious Minamoto Clan instituted government by the samurai class which survived in one form or another until the Imperial Restoration of the nineteenth century. Until the rise to power of the Tokugawa shogunate in the seventeenth century the samurai were warriors, who were primarily concerned with developing fighting skills with a range of weapons, most importantly the sword. The samurai of the seventeenth century were described by Bernardino de Avila Giron who said 'They use scimitars, called katana, which have a blade about six spans long and a hilt of one span, or longer if need be; and if the blade is longer, so must also be the hilt in due proportion. They wield this weapon with both hands, raising it above the head and waiting for a suitable opportunity before inflicting a wound with a downward stroke of the cutting edge. They usually carry in their sashes a small katana, the length of the blade being about one span and two, four or six fingers. They call this a wakizashi. When they go out, they gird themselves with both weapons and strut about as arrogantly as if they were the only people in the world. But should they chance to meet with a man more honourable than themselves, all this bluster is changed into humility, albeit a feigned humility, and in this they are past masters.vi

When Bernardino de Avila Giron observed the samurai their aggressive instincts were very obvious; in fact he said 'Name a Japanese and you name an executioner'. However with the imposition of almost three hundred years of peace, the concerns and nature of the samurai changed. They became administrators and bureaucrats, and while they still trained in the martial arts the more practical battlefield skills were downplayed; for example the use of firearms were abandoned, and stress was placed on developing skill with swords and other medieval weapons as a way of improving the moral character of the trainees. The nature of the samurai and their arts were examined by writers such as Daidoji Yuzan [1637-1730] in his Budoshoshinshu, Yamaga Soko [1622-1685] and the Zen master Takuan [1573-1645], and a new view of the role of the samurai emerged, which stressed his function as a role model to the rest of society rather than any warlike prowess. The samurai class as a whole were now expected to act as the moral and spiritual exemplars for the nation. By living a virtuous life the nation as a whole would benefit.

The eighteenth century poet Moto Mokuami captured the flavour of his times when he wrote:-

'Sweat dripping down
As you drill away at
the arts of the sword:
That they're no use,
May this reign be praised.vii

Even among fencing masters ideas arose which would have been anathema to the samurai of the Gempei wars or the Sengoku Jidai. In 1768 Kimura Kyoho wrote the Kenjutsu Fushiki Hen [The Unknown in The Art of Swordsmanship]. He says 'The perfect swordsman avoids quarreling or fighting. Fighting means killing. How can one human being bring himself to kill a fellow being? We are all meant to love one another and not to kill. It is abhorrent that one should be thinking all the time of fighting and coming out victorious. We are moral beings, we are not to lower ourselves to the status of animality. What is the use of becoming a fine swordsman if he loses his human dignity? The best thing is to be a victor without fighting.

The sword is an inauspicious instrument to kill in some unavoidable circumstances. When it is to be used, therefore, it ought to be the sword that gives life and not the sword that kills.viii

The 'sword that gives life' [katsujin-ken] and the 'sword that kills' [setsunin-to] are terms found in the Hekiganroku [Chinese Pi Yen Chi 'Blue Cliff Records'], a collection of Zen koans and commentaries by two Chinese teachers Hsueh-t'ou Chung-hsien [980-1052] and Yuan-Wu Fo-kuo [1062-1135]. The terms were used by Yagyu Munenori in his Heiho Kaden Sho. According to Yagyu Muneyoshi [1529-1606], the founder of the Yagyu Shinkage Ryu 'In our school the sword that is positioned for attack is called the death-dealing blade, and the sword that is not, the life-giving sword.ix Originally these terms simply referred to methods of wielding a sword, but in time they came to have moral overtones.

Hakuin [1685-1768] was a great master of Zen Buddhism. One of his great passions was to make Zen understandable to the common man, and so he devoted a great deal of his time to teaching all who came his way, and in time he gained many followers.

One day a samurai came to visit Hakuin and asked him 'is there really a heaven and a hell?'
Hakuin looked at him for a moment and said in an insulting tone 'who are you to ask this question? You look too stupid and ugly to understand even if I did bother to answer your question.'
At this the warrior became so angry that he reached for his sword.
'Don't bother with your sword', said Hakuin. 'You are probably so clumsy that you couldn't hit me, and the weapon is probably too blunt and rusty to do any damage even if you managed to land a lucky blow .'
This was too much for the warrior who began to draw his sword from the scabbard.
'Ah, the gates of hell are opening', said Hakuin in a soft voice.
The samurai immediately grasped the lesson and slid his sword back into the scabbard, bowing deeply to Hakuin.
'Now the gates of heaven are opening' observed Hakuin.
The samurai had learned the difference between the sword that gives life and the sword that kills.

The values and philosophies of the modern martial arts and ways are underpined by the concept of 'katsujin no ken'. Gichin Funakoshi taught that the ultimate aim of karate was the perfection of character of the practitioners, while Jigoro Kano, the founder of Judo, promoted his art as a method of mutual prosperity or benefit. Morihei Ueshiba wrote :-
'The penetrating brilliance of swords
Wielded by followers of the Way
Strikes at the evil enemy
Lurking deep within
Their own souls and bodies.x

It is obvious that for many of the founders and leading teachers of modern martial arts the ultimate aim of the training has little to do with actual fighting ability, which is viewed as a useful, if somewhat peripheral, development.

This view of the martial arts flowered and grew in a time of peace. However for those who live in potentially violent places such as modern cities, this view is seen at best as a quaint throwback to a better past. With the increasing awareness of the reality of violent crime people want to learn practical fighting skills to improve their chance of survival, and so teachers of a wide variety of martial arts are beginning to stress functional techniques designed to maim or cripple an attacker. Once again the 'sword that kills' is emerging. This has been criticised by those teachers and students who follow methods based on the use of minimal force, as they believe that this is an unwholesome development which will destroy the true meaning of the martial arts. Actually this development is simply the latest version of what was originally considered to be the real 'traditional' path of the martial arts, which was the development of effective combat skills designed to defeat a determined opponent in a real fight. Criticisms that this development is ego enhancing, immoral, etc. are irrelevant, as this increasing interest in the development of practical techniques is the result of an historical/social process which has created the perceived need for such methods in the minds of many people.

There is no doubt that some instructors and students are confused by the differing demands of their 'traditional approach' [which of course is only a tradition of less than a hundred years] with the needs of a more practical approach. I know of many karate instructors for example who advertise that they teach self defence, but complain about the levels of 'gratuitous violence' when they witness systems which advocate realistic responses to life threatening situations. Often these instructors, while highly skilled in what is in reality a modern sport, have no real idea of the complexities of self defence, but are easily able to display and teach the skills of sport combat between two practitioners of their systems. They wrongly assume that the finely honed skills of the sports arena will easily transfer into a self defence situation. Their assumption that the 'sword which gives life' can also be the 'sword that takes life' could be a costly mistake for their students.


© Copyright Harry Cook. All rights reserved.


The Japanophile Syndrome

 Back in the October 1997 issue of Traditional Karate, Russell Ward wrote in with a very interesting letter which was in response to one of Harry Cook's articles. Harry had presented an opinion regarding Ki or Chi, which obviously touched a nerve with one or two people. What got me thinking was not so much the argument about Ki - I have my own opinions on that subject! - but one or two comments which were made in Mr Ward's letter and in Harry's response. In his letter, Mr Ward makes the point that "if we are going to benefit from the long experience of the Chinese in Martial Arts or anything else, it is not unreasonable to meet them halfway by, for example, learning their language". This got me thinking....

I have mentioned before that our study of Karate is a one of a totally oriental activity and to fully understand it, we may have to look deeper than just the technique of what we do. There are so many other factors that have a bearing on the complete package that is the Japanese Martial Arts. (I focus on the Japanese systems not from some point of prejudice, merely that this is where most of my experience lies and I can therefore make comment with some degree of knowledge). For example, a lot of the etiquette that surrounds the Japanese way of training has both a religious and military background. But not religion as we in the West understand it. Eastern philosophies are different from the orthodox religious beliefs of the West and speaking metaphorically, trying to get a square peg into a round hole does not work. What I mean by that is that trying to apply Western attitudes to an Eastern philosophy or practice might not ultimately produce the right result or understanding. So exposing ourselves to certain aspects of a relevant foreign culture might get us that bit further down our chosen path.

This could be why we find some who pursue the martial arts, begin to adopt various aspects of the culture from which their art originated such as has been suggested by Mr. Ward.. This can be beneficial in a number of ways. Firstly, having an understanding of the cultural background of the country from whence a system came can help us not just to perform but also to understand some more of the subtle nuances and thereby allow us to gain greater insight. For example why some of the etiquette that we find in the dojo is in place - why do we bow before and after practice, why we bow to each other before and after an exercise, why do we say Onegai Shimasu? I could go on as the list is long but hopefully, you see my point. Immersing oneself in a subject can lead to a greater understanding but where do we draw the line between what is acceptable and what is just downright weird!

I know the way I occasionally interact with other people is not always the accepted Western norm. Over the years, my training has presented me with the opportunity to think about and experience particular things in an alternative way to the accepted Western norm. I have now formed an opinion on these issues which are consequently different to the norm. Does that make me weird? As long as I don't cause anyone any harm what is the problem? After all, I am entitled to my opinions. However, if I were to start wandering down the street in full Samurai regalia and wearing two swords everywhere then maybe I would start to have second thoughts (and probably get locked up to boot!)... But where do we draw this line regarding the adoption of foreign cultural influences, attitudes, language even religions? That I will leave you to ponder on. Whilst you are thinking about that, chew on this too -

I was having a conversation recently with my weapons teacher Julian Mead, about the business of turning into a Japanophile. For those who have not been to Japan and yet are keen to try and understand the psyche of the nation and their cultural viewpoints, then reading books and magazines, watching films and documentaries and talking to those who have been fortunate enough to go are just a few of the ways they can begin to form an idea of what Japan is really like. But how accurate are these perceptions? I was talking with Julian about this very issue and his responses made a great deal of sense and are based on personal experience. Regarding the issue of what Japan is like, his advice was that whatever perceptions you have prior to going, irrespective of how accurate you may think they are, forget them. Wait until you get there and form your own opinions based on your own experience, not warmed-over versions of somebody else's. He went on to say that it can be absolutely nothing like you imagined and then suddenly it can be totally as you would imagine it. Paradoxical is what I call it!

So why do some go through this process? Obviously, for the reasons already opined: to perchance gain a greater understanding of some of the more esoteric aspects of our Art. But there may be other reasons. Most Martial Artists are romantics to a greater or lesser degree. I don't mean romantic in the "red roses and sweet nothings" sense, but romantic in wanting to believe something conforms to our ideals or aspirations when in reality it may, or it may not. This is no bad thing as long as in doing so we do not encourage our own preconceptions on others, where they are based on conjecture and not fact. That would be misrepresentation.

This brings us full circle back to Harry's article about Ki. Is Ki as an "Intrinsic Force" a reality, or is it just a romantic belief in something which is really just a concept, and not a real, tangible, quantifiable thing? Make your own conclusions and have your own beliefs, romantic or otherwise, but think of your motivation for doing so before you impart them to others. Mr Ward is right too - we should at least entertain elements of foreign culture (in Karate's case, Japanese culture) in order to better understand our subject of study, even if we choose not to embrace them fully. And what is wrong with a little romanticism providing the underlying motivation is not to mislead others? After all, it is the romantic in us that will help to ensure the real Traditions of our Martial Arts are maintained, and oddly these Traditions can be the key to producing a realistic end product as opposed to a romantic interpretation based on the desire to emulate a foreign culture from a bygone age.

© Copyright Phil Snewin 1998. All rights reserved.