THOUGHTS ON BUDO AT THE TURN OF A DECADE

The world has changed considerably since I first began to study Budō, several decades ago. It is now a much smaller world, due primarily to the innovations made in communications and computer technology. I can recall that in 1995, computers and the Internet were at best, an insignificant part of most people’s lives, and cell phones (mobile phones then) were large, cumbersome things: hardly anyone had one. In the ensuing fifteen years however, most of the industrialized world has been connected to the Internet and the phenomenon of mobile communications. Literally, billions of pages of information are at anyone’s fingertips with just a click of a computer mouse. Sadly, at the same time, the world has grown more violent and dangerous. In the United States, we witnessed firsthand the attack on the World Trade Center, the war in Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, countless terrorist attacks, and assassinations, not to mention innumerable homicides and heinous crimes here at home. Domestic and foreign terrorism, in all its forms, have become almost daily occurrences, and news of them is now almost instantaneous. We now see crime and violence even as it occurs, often graphically, from the comfort of our easy chairs. When examined, even superficially, the sum of all this tends to reinvorce my feeling that the need has never, in modern times, been greater for people to train in traditional martial arts, such as Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu.

I have no personal knowledge of any official study, however my own understanding is that few, if any people, classically trained in martial arts, have committed the types of violence and terrorism that fill our computer and television screens, as well as the front pages of our newspapers. Acts of terrorism and violence run counter to the very nature and intent of traditional martial arts programs. Classic Japanese martial arts, Budō if you will, is in fact the art of peacemaking. I continue to teach Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu, not simply because it trains one to perform acts of violence, but rather because it trains both mind and spirit to seek out peace and harmony while preparing one to defend against acts of violence; the end result of which is creating, in some small way, a more peaceful world for its practitioners.

While Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu, on the surface, would appear to have little application to contemporary ideas of self-defense, I cannot help but feel that it truly does have practical applications. A broomstick, a mop handle, a cane, with training, can be a real boon for a person threatened with attack. Beyond that, these arts are simple serene, and elegant, bereft of the splendid embellishments and gymnastics assigned them by the cinema and print media, such as manga. In a real sense, however, this simplicity, serenity, and elegance, and the absence of superficial flourishes, have at least in the United States, been self-defeating. It is difficult for the uneducated and the unsophisticated to see how Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu could be of any use in self-defense; thus, such arts have little attraction to those who are instead drawn to more brutal forms of “combat,” such as grappling, Brazilian Jiujitsu, and “mixed martial arts,” which many traditional instructors, including myself, regard as nothing more than fighting. Fighting is what is cool. Fighting is “in.” Fighting is power. Skill in fighting makes one a “tough guy,” which assists in maintaining the “thug is good” thinking, propagated by television and movies, manga, music videos, and worst of all, violent video games. Indeed, contemporary, violent video games occupy the minds and time of American youth far more than such mundane pastimes as study, reading, or active participation in sports. Absent are the enduring values and ethics of traditional Budō, now set aside for the less endearing and enduring values of contemporary “martial arts” training.

Sadly, I do not foresee much change in the way that the “samurai arts” will be presented in literature or the entertainment media. Looking back, I think that the contemporary view of Budō began with the larger-than-life, naïve, unworkable, and improbable portrayals of traditional martial arts by works of fantasy and fiction such as the Teenaged Mutant Nina Turtles. Since their inception, the media has inundated us with anime, manga, video games, television programs and feature films highlighting samurai-like characters that perform gross representations of sword and other martial techniques; which in turn, have created false impressions and therefore expectations, that make legitimate martial arts at least disappointing if not totally unattractive. I say disappointing in view of the large number of would-be students who are disenchanted early on in their training, or even before they begin training, when they come to a dojo in the hopes of learning the “moves” that they saw in some movie or video game, and the dojo is either unable, and often unwilling, to do so.

My own experience recently is that interest in traditional Japanese martial arts, in the United States, does not support nor will it sustain classes in such subjects as Kenjutsu or Iaijutsu; individual, private students yes, but classes, no. In a country that would seem to pride itself and take comfort in its ignorance, obesity, and laziness, and its attraction to that which is crass, serious students are far between. Certainly, I have received inquiries from parents who want to enroll their children in classes; yet, what is the point when the child does not want to attend and has little or no interest beyond the “flash,” nor the common sense or sense of responsibility that goes with learning potentially dangerous techniques? There is none. Even parents are disappointed when they discover that it takes years upon years to achieve the proficiency to earn a black belt, the “holy grail” of American martial arts: not six months, not a year, but years. It is no better with potential students in their late teens or in their twenties; indeed, such students are almost totally absent. The discipline of mind and body that is required is simply not there. What few potentially good students there are tend to be over fifty, college educated, accomplished, and disciplined. Interestingly, these are mature people who potentially suffer more aches and pains then younger students; and yet, are more than willing to endure such discomforts, for the sake of the art.

What the coming decade will hold is of course a mystery. Perhaps, with the diminished American economy and the austerity that it demands, some small side effect will be a turn away from crassness, lack of discipline, and lack of responsibility, toward a new embracing of good, traditional values. Only time will tell.

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: FURYU

Fūryū (風流)

The Japanese aesthetic Fūryū (風流) was derived from the Chinese word fengliu, which literally translated meant “good deportment” or “manners. After its “importation” to Japan in the eight century, the word came to refer more directly to the refined tastes of a cultivated person and to things what were associated with such people. When applied in a more aesthetic sense, the word fūryū took on a reference to the refined, even elegant behavior of an sophisticated person. As time went on, the word was applied to all things that were regarded as elegant, sophisticated, stylish, or artistic.

By the twelfth century, with the evolution of semantics in Japan, fūryū began to evolve into two distinct variations. The first variation applied fūryū to more earthy, ostentatious beauty as marked in popular art forms. In the second variation, people attempted to find fūryū in the beauty portrayed in landscape gardens, flower arrangements, architecture, and poetry about nature, normally written in classic Chinese. It was this second “branch” of fūryū that in part gave birth to cha-no-yu or the tea ceremony, during the Muromachi Jidai or Muromachi Era (1333- 1573).

During the Edo Period or Edo Jidai (1603 – 1868), a form of popular fūryū became evident through a style of fictional prose known as ukyo-zōshi.[i] A second popular interpretation of fūryū became apparent in such art forms as haikai[ii] poetry and the nanga[iii] style of painting; an interpretation that advocated a withdrawal from all of life’s burdens. An example of this version of fūryū may be found in the following poem by Bashō :

the beginning of fūryū

this rice planting

song of the north.

A more contemporary interpretation of fūryū, strongly influenced by Zen, lies in the two characters which comprise the term, 風流, wind and flowing. Just like the moving wind, fūryū can only be sensed: it cannot be seen. Fūryū is tangible yet at the same time, intangible in the elegance which it implies; moreover, just like the wind, fūryū puts forward a wordless, transitory beauty, which can be experienced only in the moment: in the next it is gone. Interestingly, several styles of folk dances, yayako odori and kaka odori, have come to be referred to as fūryū or “drifting on the wind” dances and are quite popular.

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[i] Ukiyo-zōshi (浮世草子 ) or “books of the floating world” was the first major genus of popular Japanese fiction, by and large written between 1690 and 1770, primarily in Kyōto and Ōsaka. Ukiyo-zōshi style literature developed from kana-zōshi (仮名草子 ) [a type of printed Japanese book that was produced largely in Kyōto between 1600 and 1680, referring to books written in kana rather than kanji]. Indeed, ukiyo-zōshi was originally classified as kana-zōshi. The actual term ukiyo-zōshi first appeared around 1710, used in reference to romantic or erotic works; however, later the term came to refer to literature that included a diversity of subjects and aspects of life during the Edo Jidai. Life of a Sensuous Man, by Ihara Saikaku, is regarded as the first work of this type. The book, as well as other passionate literature, took its subject matter from writings of or about courtesans and guides to the pleasure quarters. Although Ihara’s works were not considered “high literature” at the time, they became extremely popular and were crucial to the further development and broadened appeal of the genre. After the 1770s, the style began to stagnate and to slowly decline.

[ii] Haikai (俳諧 , meaning comic or unorthodox) is short for haikai no renga, a popular style of Japanese linked verse that originate in the sixteenth century. Unlike the more aristocratic renga, haikai was regarded as a low style of linked verse intended primarily for the average person, the traveler, and for those who lived a less privileged lifestyle.

[iii] Nanga (南画 , or southern painting) also known and bunjinga (文人画 ) , intellectual painting) was a somewhat undefined school of Japanese painting which thrived during the late Edo Period. Its artists tended to regard themselves as an intellectual elite or literati. The artists who followed this school were both unique and independent; yet they all shared a high regard for traditional Chinese culture. Their paintings, most often rendered in black ink, but at times with light color, were inclined to represent Chinese landscapes or related subjects, much in the same form as Chinese wenrenhua or literati painting of the nanzonghua or Chinese “southern school” or art.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: Plants in the Visual Arts (Geijutsu to Shokubutsu)

The graphic or illustrative arts in Japan traditionally have relied on the sensitivity of the artist to nature and thus, have been likely to be simple, compact, and modest, yet elegant. Traditional renderings of landscapes, for example, do not display the wide range of colors that is seen in Western oil paintings or watercolors. This same simplicity and grace applies to sculpture as well: delicately carved and small in size.

Plants, flowers and birds, or at least their outlines are frequently rendered in lifelike colors on fabric, lacquer ware and ceramics. The love of natural forms and an enthusiasm for the expression of nature in idealized style have been the key intentions in the development of traditional Japanese arts such as ikebana (flower arrangement, chanoyou (the tea ceremony), tray landscapes (bonkei), bonsai, and landscape gardening. It is through these arts that the Japanese people have attempted to incorporate the beauty of nature into their spiritual values and daily lives.

For the decoration of a teahouse, a modest flower was selected to conform with the principle that flowers should always look as if they were still in nature. The Japanese have sought to express the immensity as well as the simplicity of nature with a single wild flower in a solitary vase.

Copyright 2010 by Tokugawa Hayato & Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

CHA-DO: It's Not Just For Ladies!

Even during the Meiji Era, the Era of Enlightened Rule, it was required, pre-marriage training for women. In the preceding Tokugawa Period, its study was encouraged among samurai and its practice the mark of a cultured gentleman. In the current Heisei Era, the time of Emperor Akihito it is becoming a much-sought out weapon in Japan’s war on stress. It is Cha-no-yu, Cha-Dō: the tea ceremony.

Throughout Japan, on any evening, and particularly on weekends, you may find Japanese men, business men, merchants, engineers, academics, gathered together in suburban tea houses, wearing kimono, hakama, and haori, to immerse themselves in traditional Japanese culture and in particular, this traditional Japanese art as a means of shedding off the stress and strain of modern life. How? With what would be termed in the West as a “tea party.” On any evening at the Urasenke School of Tea, one can find an ever increasing number of Japanese men studying the traditions and art of tea; indeed, on some evenings the number of male pupils (largely men over 40) outnumbers women. Japanese people, regardless of age or gender, are rediscovering the beauty and emotional calming effects of Cha-Dō, as a transcendental interlude, a time of peace and re-focusing one’s life. Numerous magazines have recently produced articles, even special “tea” editions, which were quickly sold out as Japan discovers that “new” is not always better and the old ways, tradition, can have a place of significance in the life of the modern Japanese man.

“Cha…it’s not just for ladies anymore!”

The Tokugawa Period: An Overview of the Western Concept

My view of historical scholarship is that of an attempt to write about the events of the past and as such, it is dependant upon documents from the period(s) being studied. I have also pointed out that many historians, particularly in the West tend to “cherry-pick” their documents, selecting records that tend to match their preconceived notions of history. The result is that such written history fails, sometimes miserably, to provide clarity and truth.

I do not exempt Japanese historians from blame in this matter of imbalanced or distorted history, particularly in the portrayal of the Tokugawa Shōgunate and the period of Japanese history that it encompasses, 1603 to 1868; as a period marked by military dictatorship and oppression. In viewing the Mieji Restoration and the years that followed, one can come to understand how such distortions were possible. Meiji historians took on the attitude and viewpoint of the era, an obsession with Westernization. The entire country was lost in all things Western: Western culture, Western technology, Western politics, even Western scholarship. What was past, what was “Tokugawa” was cast away as unenlightened and thus, of no value to the “New Japan” and the age of Enlightened Rule.

With the end of World War II, during the Showa Era, historians both in the West and in Japan, looked for reasons for the war. Ultimately, their collective fingers pointed at the Tokugawa Period, not only as the Japanese dark ages, but as the root cause of the wars that followed the conclusion of that era. Japanese feudalism was equated with authoritarianism rather than the Confucian concept of a decentralized political system as evidenced in the Zhou Dynasty, a concept idealized by the Tokugawa. Certainly Japanese feudalism (hōken) was not compatible with liberal Western post-war views, often tainted by not so hidden traces of Marxism, political correctness and the European 18^th century “enlightened” view of Europe’s feudalism as their own dark ages. These historians thus superimposed their viewpoint over Japanese history, tainting what lay beneath.

Western history, particularly that of Europe is viewed as having three major eras: a classical era, a feudal era, and a modern era. Japanese history is far more complex, with a myriad of twists and turns, hundreds if not thousands of threads interwoven much the same as a fine tapestry. To overlay Japanese history with the restricted views of Western scholarship simply does not work: it is to ignore the depth and character of Japanese history and culture.

In conclusion, one should be more inclined to view the Tokugawa Period as a forerunner of modern Japanese social and political concepts rather than as the dark depths of tyranny. The Tokugawa brought unity to Japan, for the first time, an actual feeling of nation and country, unique in the Asia and the world, which continues to live in contemporary Japanese values.

THE EDO PERIOD'S POPULATION

THE EDO PERIODS'S POPULATION

Do you know how many people there were in Japan during the Edo Period? It is said that there were some thirty million (30,000,000) with the samurai population at about 2 million. The samurai therefore accounted for from 6.7% to 7% of the total Japanese population. At tat time there was no large-scale census conducted on a national level; rather, it was performed by each province and clan, to be recorded in the 宗門人別改帳 (Shumon Ninbetsu Aratame cho, しゅうもんにんべつあらためちょう) or Residential Register.

Edo’s (Tokyō’s) population began an upward trend from the Kaei era (1624 – 1644) and continued to increases through the Genroku era (1688 – 1704), when the population of the city was the largest urban population in the world; to the Tenmei era (1787) figures of 1,626,500, according the census performed in 1721 and then again in 1736. While the proportion of samurai in the national population did not significantly change through the Edo Period, the percentage was significantly higher in Edo, due to the policy of Sankinkoutai (the system of alternate annual attendance between the home of a daimyō in Edo and his home in his fief).

The general analysis of the Edo (Tokyō) population was as follows:

Farmers – 80%

Tradesmen – 10%

Samurai – 7%

Other – 3%

On a slightly different vein:

A scholar of Japanese history at Havard Universtiy, Harold Bolitho, wrote the following:

The Tokugawa Period, in fact, was a time of almost total samurai dominance; they dominated government, they dominated society, the dominated city life, they dominated education, they also dominated cultural life, providing most of the painter, most of the poets, most of the playwrights, and most of all the philosophers, mathematicians, and botanists…there was no government apart form them, no laws but what they devised, and no order save what they imposed.

Note that the word “dominated” is repeated – extensively. This ia a good writing technique by which to instill an image that one wants to impose on readers; yet actually, as I read this statement by Professor Bolitho, I could not but help to imagine the citizens of Japan in a jail, with no means of escape! What a terrible thought! According to the Professor, there was no freedom for the Japanese people; however, what he said was not entirely true; certainly, he need to add some supplementary notes or commentary. Keep in mind that the merchant culture of Edo flourished during the Edo period under the Tokugawa. Such things as Ukiyo-e or Kabuki, human splendor and tragedy there to see and experience in theaters or as woodblock prints found in the shops of the Yoshiwara, Edo’s largest, licensed “red light” district, thrived. Even the kimono was a product of the refined town culture, an outgrowth of the merchant class of the socially stable Edo Period.

It is easy for one to write that the samurai dominated Japanese society, laws, art, culture, etc.; yet in truth, how can a samurai population of approximately 7% dominate 93% of the entire Japanese population. Simple logic would dictate that it is not so easy to do. If 93% of the population was to riot or revolt, could the samurai put it down? Certainly not. Yet, the Tokugawa Shōgunate lasted for over 200 years. How could the Bakufu keep peace in a nation for such a long period of time? Simply wielding the sword and the power of a privileged class cannot dominate much of anything. Early in its history, the Tokugawa Shōgunate found a great way to “control” its citizens. This is not a simple topic and requires far more room and time than is available here today, but we will discuss it again soon; but for now, think about this, using your imagination. If you were samurai, a member of the privileged class, how would you bring peace to Japanese society? Before the Tokugawa Period, your job was fighting, but now that is no longer necessary because Japan has peace. What do you do? Do you sleep all day? Probably not. Nevertheless, if your people do not obey, do you bring them into submission by force? Remember that 93 % of the population watches you; how you speak and behave, solely on the basis of your social ranking. What could the samurai, the 7%, possibly use to control the other 93% of Japan? I think it was their dignity.

Yamaga Soko (1622 – 1685) said, “The peasant’s job is to plow a field, a craftsman’s job is to make things, the merchant’s job is to sell and buy [or barter].” What then is the samurai’s job? Think with all your heart about the question. The true answer will not come by just reading a book, but by also thinking with all your heart about what a samurai’s job was. Yamaga further added, “A samurai’s job is to achieive Jinrin no Michi in the world. Jinrin no Michi (人倫の道) is the way of humanity, morality. Jinrin means moral principle, that is, to behave in a moral way. Michi means the way, path, or journey. This is the most basic principle that a samurai must realize in Shidō a samurai code far different from Bushidō.

More on Tokugawa society and the samurai next time.

Submitted by Aoi Tokugawa-sensei

Copyright 2009 by Shisei-Do Publications and Aoi Tokugawa. All rights reserved.

Musings on a View of History

Musings on a View of History

kishamichi ni
hikuku kari tobu
tsukiyo kana

low over the railroad
wild geese flying –
a moonlight night

-Shiki

The warm days of summer are now gone and the soft, gentle breeze that drifted through the open doors of my study and rustled the papers on my desk has grown teeth. In summer, it would make its way through this old “samurai house,” blending indoors with out, lending a certain tenderness and ease to life. Today, sweater replaces yukata, iced tea is now traded for steaming coffee. Last night the wind shook the closed shutters over our doors and windows, as though demanding entry: equal time with the zephyrs of mid-year. Now our warmth comes from the electric heater and the fire which crackles and snaps from the pit in the main tatami room, on which rides the smoky incense of oak rather than the perfume of flowers and fresh grass.

As I look through the sliding glass door of my refuge, filled with the volumes of Japan past which stir my imagination and answer my questions, only then give birth to new queries, I can see the cats at play in the garden; enjoying the day in their newly fluffed coats. The old puss perches high up on the gate, surveying her domain, as though she is some ancient daimyō watching over her han (domain). The two young ones dart here and there; games of hide-and-seek or perhaps imagining themselves as tigers in the wild; hiding in the now brown grass; waiting for some elusive prey to venture too close to their place of cover. Occasionally one cat ventures out to the edge of the pond and looks in. Yes, the koi are all still there in their places. Then he’s off again to pounce on his preoccupied sibling who just found a mouse. All too soon, the pond will be covered with ice, the ground will be blanketed in snow, and the garden mice will be safe in their nests below the porch.

One cannot help but to smile a bit at the moment, and then I look at the volumes of history that line the walls of my room and think about autumns long ago. Did Tokugawa Ieyasu look out his window at Edo Castle, or later at Sanpu in Suruga, and see similar scenes? Some might say no, he was without doubt too busy plotting and scheming. I think he did see such things and probably thought deeply upon them in his later years. Nevertheless, that is a difference in the viewing of history.



History is merely an attempt to write about events that belong to the past. What is written depends on documents: manuscripts, essays, and articles from the period being written about. Modern-day topics and events are often regarded as being too ordinary and thus, unworthy of documentation except as television newsbytes or a few short columns in a newspaper.

I often find myself wondering how historians, perhaps two or three centuries from now, will regard the last few years, and especially this year of 2009, in viewing Japan or the United States. Will they describe 2009 as a year when America began to once again find direction and to re-assume a position of world leadership, this time for the betterment of the world in general and in particular for its own citizens; or, will they perhaps hold 2009 up as enduring evidence that a once great notion grew too big to sustain itself and its ideals, and in the end failed?

Will they say that Japan continued its socio-political decline, and that its culture continued to erode, giving way to the forces of globalization, just as a beach is consumed by the waves of an approaching typhoon, or will they perhaps say that 2009 was a year when Japan, at last, broke free from the miasma from which it suffered, beginning at the end of World War II? Did Japan at last find its feet and stand up to demand equity with the United States among the nations of the world and cast off its acquiescence to Western domination?

Recently I wrote a short essay on the topic of Bushidō and its core. The article, much to my delight, stirred more than a little controversy and debate, which in itself, was a very good thing; for in my mind, such writing has little point unless it stirs thought and stimulates discussion. The essay and resulting commentary became the subject of conversations among myself and other Japanese with a more than passing interest in Japanese culture and history. Some were outraged by the views expressed by a group from the San Francisco Bay Area: others were simply dismayed. More than one comment was made that they should “admit their shame and end their life.” The comment was also made that some, whose samurai heritage had been insulted, would be more than willing to assist the group in the called for acts of seppuku. Some may indeed by surprised that one’s samurai heritage can be insulted, more than one hundred and forty years after the conclusion (note I did not say fall) of the Tokugawa Era. Most Japanese, even those who we might term as “liberals” are far more conservative than their American liberal cousins are. Most Japanese still attach great significance to their family histories: their clans and their samurai heritage. That is being Japanese.

Certainly, the group, Asians Art Museum, which parodies the San Francisco Asian Art Museum, has every right to express their views and opinions; indeed, I encourage it. Yet, the Japanese who read it and expressed their opinions to me, felt that the group’s views were tainted, that there was a certain “agenda” not too well hidden beneath their words: expressions marked with an irony that does not translate to Japanese thought.

Among the Japanese students of Japanese history, none of my associates regard themselves as scholars but simply as students, since history is an unending process of study and analysis– a process we often engage in over coffee, tea, sake and snacks (we try to do things with a bit of flair), the view was frequently expressed that aspiring or pseudo-historians tend to notice or to select records which match their own pre-conceptions of the past and support (or can be bent to support) their own personal, revisionist agendas; that is, they have an ax to grind.



Certainly there exits confusion about the complexities of Japanese history, even among Japanese. In this particular case, however, we have Western historians giving interpretation to Japanese history. In the West, modern historians still are greatly influenced by 18th century theories of history and long-past Age of Enlightenment in Europe. They still regard the European medieval age as the “dark ages” and as a corollary, the age of Japanese feudalism: cruel, dark, dismal. Certainly some Japanese historians and intellectuals (such as Nitobé Inazo) are equally as guilty of this view, having themselves imported ideals of Western feudalism and overlaying them on unique, Japanese concepts. Add to that a certain taint of Marxism interlaced with the American penchant for political correctness, and the overall result becomes skewed. A result is the compartmentalization of Japanese history into Japan’s “Classical Era,” Japan’s “Feudal Era” or Dark Ages, and the Modern or “Post-Tokugawa Era”, when it is far more complex than that. This tends to perpetuate the selective (and often simplistic) reporting of history: ignoring the complexities of Japanese history, which can be likened to the weaving of some fine tapestry.

Nevertheless, the overall result of the discussions was twofold. First, that certainly, everyone should be free to express their thoughts and opinions, even though it may lack wisdom or good manners – expression is essential. The second conclusion was that Japanese history and its interpretation should be left to Japanese, since the West is not equipped to understand and appreciate Japanese thought and the depth of Japanese culture and the intricacies of its history.

(To be continued)

-Tokugawa H.

Copyright 2009 by H. Tokugawa and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.