Keiko Shokon Revisited: Introduction
Igor Muratov
Keiko Shokon Revisited: Introduction
by Diane Skoss
The first volume of "Classical Warrior Traditions of Japan," Koryu
Bujutsu, aimed to answer the question, "Just what are the koryu bujutsu?"
Sword & Spirit, volume two, explored the nature of these arts, their hearts
and souls and the techniques that comprise them. In the third volume, Keiko
Shokon, we turn our attention to the future of these arts. What role, if
any, can sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Japanese martial arts play in
the twenty-first century?
Margaret Stawowy wrote in her Japan Times review of Sword & Spirit:
I can't help but wonder what relevance the classical martial arts have
in the so-called civilized world, a world where warfare is waged
impersonally with computer algorithms, or in the case of guerrilla combat,
with increasingly sophisticated ballistics. (March 30, 1999)
This is a legitimate question answered in different ways by the essays
in this volume. The koryu offer participants the opportunity to finely hone
skills and assimilate standards that are no longer so commonly taught in
modern society. Traditional values of perseverance, patience, constant
awareness, self-effacement, working towards the good of a group rather than
an individual, and appropriate, polite behavior contrast sharply with the
get-it-instantly in-your-face brashness of the brave new world of the
Internet culture. Nitta Suzuyo, nineteenth headmaster of the Toda-ha
Buko-ryu, reveals in her interview with Liam Keeley her belief that training
in the koryu promotes physical well-being as well as the development of
precise and refined "people skills." Each execution of kata is a complex
transaction in which both partners must instantly assess the
opponent--discerning their current mental state, physical skill level, and
intent--then adjust and react accordingly. With training this process
becomes a deep and reliable intuition that can appear almost magical to the
outside observer. What once was a skill on which a warrior's life might
depend is now an invaluable tool for getting along with other people in all
the various relationships and situations that we encounter daily.
The koryu have also provided the technical basis for modern sport
forms of Japanese martial arts. Meik Skoss outlines the influence of the
Itto-ryu on modern kendo in his overview of the tradition. Ron Beaubien
demonstrates how properly developed observational skills can help
inexperienced martial artists better appreciate those connections with the
past and gain insight into their own training. If what you see isn't always
what you get in the classical traditions, might this not also be true in
modern arts as well?
Most Westerners involved in the transmission of the koryu (and
undoubtedly most Japanese, too) are quite convinced that these arts are, at
the very least, worth preserving as forms of self-discipline. The koryu,
like the California condor, are too magnificent to allow to lapse into
extinction. Yet as Dave Lowry points out in his essay:
Like the conservationist who lovingly hand-rears a threatened species,
thus rendering the offspring unable to feed and reproduce naturally as they
should, he risks contributing to the weakening of the very institutions he
loves so much and wishes so devoutly to preserve and propagate. (p. 59)
Is the condor chick raised in captivity really the same fowl as its
immediate ancestors? As twenty-first-century curators of sixteenth-century
arts, we cannot afford to ignore such questions if the arts are to survive
and thrive.
The critical issue is context and the native one for the koryu is that
of feudal-era Japan. While many argue that modern Japan resembles old Japan
no more than our Western culture does, that isn't strictly true. Many
elements of the feudal era and the warrior culture do still permeate modern
Japanese culture, and the Asian mind-set, with its Confucian and Buddhist
influences, is vastly different from our Western way of seeing things.
Modern Japanese culture is still the closest we can get to the native
cultural habitat of the koryu, and it is a vital element in these arts'
transmissions. The jury is still out on how successfully the koryu can be
transmitted outside of Japan, as we are still in the first generation of
that progression. Most of us who are directly involved are erring on the
side of caution; to the extent that we possibly can, we are trying to
instruct our students the way we were taught, forcing them to "step into
Japan" when they enter the dojo. Americans, in particular, have a general
aversion to relinquishing "inalienable rights," but in our role as
conservators we must stalwartly resist any attempts to modify or adapt "the
way things are" in the koryu to suit American notions of convenience. This
"cast in stone" approach obscures the fact that the koryu have always
adapted and evolved. Ellis Amdur investigates renovations and innovations
and the question of whether it is ever appropriate to add something "new" to
these "old" traditions, and if so, who might be legitimately qualified to
make these changes.
Inappropriate change is not the only problem faced when the Japanese
cultural background of the koryu is missing. Dramatic distortions and
misrepresentations become easy in the West. Grandiose titles are
part-and-parcel of the American martial arts industry; if one teacher
advertises as a "Master" the next must perforce proclaim himself a
"Grandmaster." On the next street over, the martial arts school operator
suddenly becomes a "Great Grandmaster." Foreign terms have even more cache
and selling power. Unwitting (at best--at worst, unscrupulous) Westerners
have appropriated, misunderstood, and misused many Japanese terms properly
applied only in very specific contexts. Soke (headmaster) has been perhaps
the most blatantly (and laughably) misapplied. Dr. William Bodiford offers
some definitions, explanations, and observations that can lead the
non-Japanese martial artist towards a greater sensitivity to the nuances of
Japanese language, history, and culture.
Like the museum curator or wildlife conservationist we must surround
our charges with an environment as true to life as we can make it and
educate visitors about the entire scene. But the koryu are not primarily
cultural artifacts. They are ancient but effective systems for training for
combat; their efficiency, however, is inextricably bound up with their
methods of presentation and transmission--hence the need for cultural
guardianship. Lt. Col. George Bristol discusses how the koryu curricula can
actually apply in modern warfare--not the remote impersonality of Ms.
Stawowy's query, but in the direct man-to-man combat of the Marine. Lt. Col.
Bristol's observations illuminate yet one more side of the koryu's modern
relevance, exhibiting innovation in its best sense by incorporating both
pedagogy and philosophy into the newly developed Marine Corps Martial Art.
His "ethical warrior" harks back to the "divine warrior" Issai Chozan
describes in his eighteenth- century parable, "Neko no myojutsu," presented
here by Dr. Karl Friday.
This kinship between warriors across the centuries brings us full
circle. In the introduction to Koryu Bujutsu I first wrote of Nishioka
Tsuneo's motto, Keiko shokon, most simply translated as "Reflecting deeply
on the past, illuminate the present." Through study of the koryu, we find
that the combative principles encoded in their kata are as valid today as
they were four hundred years ago. The rigorous psychological and physical
discipline required of the koryu practitioner continues to be an excellent
forge for tempering mind, spirit, and body. And, although people and
cultures have changed dramatically since the koryu's origins, the "ancient"
social structure of the koryu still serves as a model of interpersonal
relationships that can inform and enhance our modern social interactions. In
short, the koryu, by offering a distillation of what was good and useful in
the past, continue to provide remarkable lessons that we can use today to
enlighten our understanding of who and what we are, and who and what we aim
to become.
Copyright ¿2002 Diane Skoss. All rights reserved.