Two Faces of Japanese Budo

At the excellent Budo Bum blog, there was an article that described the differences between Seitai and Koryu approaches to martial arts instruction. Below is an excerpt. The full post may be read here.

A friend asked me to contrast seitei systems and koryu systems in Japanese budo, and their relative benefits and drawbacks. “Seitei” are standardized systems, generally practiced by large organizations that intend to create a common standard for rank testing and competitions. “Koryu” are classical systems, generally defined as having been founded prior to the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate in 1868. Seitei are used by organizations that can be global in reach, such as the International Judo Federation, the International Kendo Federation and the International Naginata Federation. Koryu are generally small groups ranging from fewer than 10 people, to a few hundred or a thousand.

The advantages of standardized training systems are straightforward. Everyone knows what is expected. The syllabus and the path to promotion are clearly defined. Since it is standardized, you know that anywhere you go in the organization, people will be doing the same thing in the same way, and that your experience and rank will be respected. Because the decisions about rank are made by the organization, you should be able to clearly see and define differences between ranks. If you run into a personality issue in one dojo, it is not difficult to move to another dojo training the same curriculum. The biggest benefit is that there are many people pushing against each other to improve, so there is a great deal of experimentation in how to teach things, and successful techniques are shared widely, making the teaching ever more effective. A similar benefit for the art is that people are naturally competitive, comparing themselves to others in the organization and finding more ways that they can improve. Actual competition deserves its own essay.

Koryu is the antithesis of a standardized practice. There have been thousands of koryu throughout history, and there may be a couple of hundred that remain today. They each have their own prescribed kata, and the variety is amazing. Not just unarmed combat, sword arts and naginata (similar to a glaive), but somewhere in the syllabus of one of these koryu you’re likely to find methods for fighting with nearly anything that was recorded as being a weapon in Japanese history. Koryu are personal rather than organizational. Koryu’s strength is actually this lack of standardization. The kata are there, but they are not carved in stone, or even really printed on paper. Koryu grow and evolve as their practitioners explore new ideas and pathways. Different groups doing koryu of the same origin are free to go in different directions. This flexibility and adaptability mean that healthy koryu never stop evolving. It is much easier for a koryu to modify or add to its syllabus than it is for a large organization where everything is codified and overseen by committees that have to come to agreement about how things will be done. Koryu can adapt quickly to changes in the world around them.

Large, standardized, organizations are large, standardized, organizations. This means that they come with all the baggage of any large bureaucracy. There are internal politics and petty fights to satisfy petty egos. They tend to be rigid and have difficulty with change, even when the path they’re on is clearly heading off a cliff. All that standardization that makes it possible for people to freely train with each other also tends to drive things down narrower and narrower roads. The effort to match the ideal of the standardized kata often means that anything that strays from that limited model is deemed “wrong”. This makes cross-training difficult because you will be criticized for anything that bleeds through from other systems, styles, or schools into the standardized set. I find this a particular issue because I sincerely believe that martial arts whose practitioners don’t cross-train are doomed to fade and die in weakness and irrelevancy. Cross training in martial arts isn’t optional. It’s necessary.

 

The Passing of Wing Chun Master Kernspecht

Master Kernspecht was a leading figure in Wing Chun in Europe. He had a large organization and a vast number of students.

Frequent contributor Jonathan Bluestein as a close friend of Master Kernspecht and gave a eulogy at his funeral, which is below.

A guest post by Mr Bluestein on the Wing Chun of Master Kernspecht may be found here.

 

 

Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu

Below is a documentary about Sugino Yukihiro, the current head teacher of the Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu.

 

Classical Jujutsu in Modern Japan

 

A short documentary of Yagyu Shingan Ryu jujutsu as practiced in Japan today.

 

Why do we Wear Keikogi?

Over at Budo Journeyman, there was an interesting post about the development and spread of the keikogi, or "gi" for use in training in many Japanese martial arts. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

... The design of Japanese garments was not primitive or ‘quaint’, and so it is with the keikogi; which ironically was a compromise between western fashion and Japanese practicality.

The man responsible – Judo’s Kano Jigoro.

Some time between 1882 and 1889 Kano made a design decision to standardise a practical training uniform for judoka. This was based on three main reasons:

1 Universality, regardless of cost.

Kendo already had training gear; students and schoolkids, who wanted to train, were having to access the armour, hakama, shinai etc, and lug it around, it all came at a price. The Keikogi for judo was deliberately light enough (as was feasible) to just bundle up and launder as needed.

However, there was a wider influence that came from the western ideas of fashion and clothing that were entering Japan at the time.

The predominant white colour was not symbolic, it was just the natural colour of the cotton (and perhaps a useful motivator to keep it clean?)

The uniform made everyone the same; it was supposed to eliminate any hint of status. Over time, master Kano himself wore the same keikogi as even his lowest students.

2 Reputation and forging a brand identity.

This was all part of modernisation. Kano was a progressive and a universalist, he understood how the rest of the world was operating in the fields of sports and physical culture. In the west, teams had identifying kit, standard in colour and design; it made a statement about who they are and what they meant. It still goes on today.

Walk into any sports centre and you can usually see how people are dressed tells you what they are there for. (All those white uniforms; must be some form of karate?)

3 Safety and technical convenience.

There were all manner of design considerations that meant the judo keikogi was going to support the intentions of the practice of the art/sport and make life easier for the practitioner. To explain this in detail it’s worth taking some parts of the uniform to pieces and look at their component parts.

The jacket.

Historically, this was based upon a long-existing outer garment worn as part of standard dress for anyone from farmers to Japanese firefighters; this was the Hanten/Uwagi.

Kendo guys had already developed a robust cotton version, one held together tidily with ties. These ties would just not work in judo, as the rough and tumble would just tear them off; but karate people kept them, and just changed the position to the side vents (and still they get ripped off).

In judo, the collar and lapel were designed as one continuous piece. This part of the jacket became crucial and enhanced performance and intention (grips on collar and lapel). These lapels were deliberately thick and multi-stitched.

There are surviving examples of jackets belonging to Kano (kept in a museum) and one of his top students, Saigo Shiro, these have amazingly robust lapels, almost like a rope. ...

...

Why did karate go in the same direction?

It’s obviously really; judo as being at the vanguard of progressive cultural thinking was the model for others to follow. If karate wanted to be accepted in the Japanese constellation of institutional Budo it needed to adopt the image of modernisation to be able to present itself to the outside world; and it worked.

Early pictures of Okinawan karate showed them basically training in their pants; rather like Chinese Gung Fu stylists from the earlier era were just in their street clothes (monks were different). The underwear-clad Okinawans needed to get with the picture and modernise if they were to be taken seriously.

The karate keikogi was allowed to be of lighter cotton, not needing to suffer the push, pull and tug of judo. And then came the sash, the obi, the belt.

 

 

Chinese Astrology

Our frequent guest poster, Jonathan Bluestein has made a free ebook on Chinese astrology available. below is an excerpt. The book may be accessed (for I don't know how long) here.

My name is Jonathan Bluestein. I am an Israeli Jew, and an interdisciplinary scholar. My main areas of expertise are in the fields of Traditional Martial Arts, Traditional Chinese Medicine and Chinese Philosophy. I am also versed in various other areas of study, such as Middle Eastern and World History, Jungian Personality Psychology and Law. The exciting and fascinating subject of Chinese Astrology, interfaces quite well with my other areas of study. Thus, in the year 2024, I embarked on a mission to learn more about it, via meticulous research. As I have often done with my prior learning ventures, I have found that writing about a thing makes for a splendid way to become intimately familiar with it. This book before you here, presents with the fruits of those efforts. The tome which is in your possession, is a work-in-progress. I have intentionally and happily made it available for anyone to copy, share and distribute freely, as long as changes are not made. Newer versions of this work, shall be released periodically. Over time, I hope to include in it, dedicated chapters for a total of 60 years of astrological analysis and interpretation. Why 60 years, you might ask? That question shall be answered clearly and succinctly, in the next chapter. This book is neither an experiment in fortune-telling, nor an instrument for gaining material or spiritual advantages. It is a deep and captivating exploration of how Chinese Astrology can be used as a practical medium for the betterment of people’s everyday lives.Iwould like to thank fellow scholar and Chinese Astrology expert, Gregory David Done, for his fine work in this field. I have often been inspired by his writings and insights, and this is reflected in the text before you here.

Vintage Taijiquan Video from 1969

From 1969, recorded in the US.

 

Classical Japanese Martial Arts and the Concept of the Peaceful Warrior

Over at Ellis Amdur's excellent blog, Kogen Budo, there is an excellent guest post. It is an essay by Dave Lowry on the concept of the "peaceful warrior" and classical Japanese martial arts. 

Anything written by either of these authors is worth reading.

An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

The short treatise, translated into English, was on the nature of budō. It was written by a very senior exponent of classical koryu. I knew him. He was among the most erudite—and physically talented—budōka I’ve ever encountered. I have paid attention to every word he’s said and written. He made the point in the essay, one that was an overview of some of his opinions and beliefs, that in the end the ultimate goal of all traditional budō was to “establish peace.”

The notion is hardly unique, of course. We read it, we hear in the dōjō similar sentiments all the time. Curious about it though, I found the same essay online in the original Japanese. The same line in Japanese used the word junjo (順序) for what was translated as “peace.” Which is not at all the same thing. Junjo means “to put things in order.” And that, to paraphrase Robert Frost, makes all the difference.

The concept of peace is perhaps one of the more ubiquitous we encounter in discussing traditional Japanese arts. The etymologically inclined have broken down the kanji for “bu” (武) into two radicals that demonstrate how it actually means “to stop a spear,” implying that peace is indeed the righteous, lofty, and true goal of these cultural enterprises. Budō, the “Way of Martial Art,” we are reliably informed by dozens of writers on the subject, is really the Way of Peace. Martial arts writing and advertising is loaded, of course, with all manner of references to the ideal “peaceful warrior.” We are reminded again and again that the “true warrior” never has to draw his sword and that the greatest actualization of budō is in generating a kind of halcyon social order where conflict never arises or is addressed in a deeply humanitarian way.

Nor is budō alone among Japan’s pre-modern arts in this emphasis. The 45^th headmaster of the Ikenobo school of flower arranging, Sen’ei Ikenobo, made a presentation a few years ago at the United Nations, a demonstration entitled “Peace Through Floral Expression.”

The previous headmaster of the Urasenke school of tea adopted the expression “peacefulness in a bowl of tea” as both a kind of personal motto and a statement of commission for his students worldwide. Of the four cardinal virtues of chadō, the first in fact, is wa, which is sometimes translated as “harmony,” but also as “peace.”

It is worthwhile in contemplating this phenomenon to consider a study done some years ago, an in-depth look at the motivations of chajin—practitioners of the tea ceremony. Both Western and Japanese students were interviewed. Both groups enthusiastically emphasized the idea of peacefulness and harmony as a primary reason they were involved and absorbed in the art.

Later, the researcher returned and dug a bit deeper. Exactly what, he wanted to know, do you mean by “peace?” Here, there was a marked contrast. Western students overwhelming described the peacefulness of the tea ceremony as the mental state they achieved within themselves. They felt more centred and calm, more able to deal with life’s stresses from a balanced connexion within, more apt to live with a placid sense of self. The process of chadō was, in part at least, a ritual of meditation for them, deeply personal and self-actualized. The Japanese students, however, explained that by “peace” they were referring to establishing and maintaining a sense of order within the group. They did not perceive it as a self-centred idea but rather as the foundation of a mutually beneficial matrix of others.

Same word, two largely different meanings. There should be a clue here for the serious practitioner of any traditional Japanese art. The reality is that “peace” does not readily translate as a concept nor are the implications of the word universal. This is particularly true in the case of Japanese culture.

 

 

Less Discipline

As martial artists, we arrange our lives around discipline. 

The Art of Manliness blog as some thoughts on this. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

When it comes to keeping your New Year’s resolutions, you probably think you know the secret to success.

Whether you’ve resolved to lose weight, eat better, use your time more effectively, or even to amor fati, you’ve simply got to get more disciplined.

Right?

Certainly, discipline plays a crucial role in making any mindset or behavioral change. We’ve said as much ourselves.

But the exact nature of this need for discipline is frequently misunderstood.

When most of us think of changing our lives, we think we need to become a more disciplined person. To increase our level of discipline permanently, indefinitely.

The problems with this idea, however, are two-fold, and partly account for why so few people are able to keep their resolutions longer than a few weeks.

First, it’s incredibly difficult to permanently increase your level of discipline, which is a disposition that seems to be semi-fixed and innate. Just as our weight has a default “set point” that it wants to return to despite effort to put on or take off pounds, our discipline seems to have a set point which it wants to snap back to as well. That doesn’t mean discipline can’t be developed and enhanced in strength, it’s just an extremely arduous task in which change is measured incrementally rather than by large leaps and bounds.

Second, living a more disciplined life, forever, is an incredibly daunting prospect — both practically and psychologically.

Trying to permanently live at a higher level of discipline is like running a long-distance race of indeterminate length. When your legs ache and you feel like you can’t go on, you call out to those on the sidelines, “How much further to the finish?” To which they reply, “We don’t know. A long ways though. Just keep going.” The idea of continuing on at the same pace seems impossible, and with no end in sight, all your motivation drains away and you throw in the towel.