Electronic Journals of Martial Arts and Sciences
Guelph School of Japanese Sword Arts, July, 2002
Deborah Klens-Bigman, Ph.D.
We are living in ethically trying times. Not that ethics was ever very popular, but lately we seem awash in the consequences of the lack of ethical considerations. Enron is well-known to everyone, as is the crisis in the Catholic church. Tyco's CEO, Dennis Kozlowski, was recently forced to step down because, in spite of hundreds of millions of dollars in compensation, he cheated on sales taxes when he bought art work. Why? The rules didn't apply to him (except it seems like maybe they actually do).
Other panelists today
will be talking about various types of malfeasance by martial arts teachers.
Some of these are shocking examples, and fortunately, they are relatively
rare. Martial arts teachers, like most teachers everywhere, strive to be
sincere in their teaching. Terry Nosanchuk has suggested that ethical
training in children's martial arts makes the difference between a schoolyard
bully and a wiser kid who learns to mediate conflict, and that there are
such teachers out there (1998). Terrence Webster-Doyle’s Martial
Arts for Peace Association takes that idea a step further, in advocating
conflict resolution as a part of children's martial art practice (1997).
Few sane adults would want their son or daughter to take a martial art
class that didn't include ethical training on some level (remember, I said
sane), regardless of whether the art form is more sport- or traditionally-oriented.
When it comes to ethical
training or philosophizing in adult martial arts classes, however, things
get dicey. Put simply, most grownups feel their ethical training
is best gotten elsewhere; for example, in church, and that the martial
arts instructor should, in the words of a college administrator who once
hired one of my colleagues to teach in a physical education curriculum,
"Just stick to front kicks." The issue gets diceier still in New
York City, where
Christians of varying stripes, Jews, Buddhists, Muslims and others
can, and do, coexist in martial arts groups, drawn together by a common
interest in a particular art form, but seemingly not much else. This
is just my opinion, but based on both my teaching experience and observation
of others' teaching over the past 16 years, there is a special reluctance
on the part of NYC martial arts teachers to discuss the religious, philosophical,
ethical or spiritual components of their art forms in class.
While I may be able to draw out some comments from them in private conversation,
it is rare that these subjects come up in teaching. Maggie Newman,
a very
well-known Yang style taiji teacher with whom I had the privilege of
working almost never mentioned Taoism, the Classics or anything else that
shaped Master Cheng's practice besides acknowledging their existence.
In her opinion, people didn’t need to know those things in order to learn
taiji. By stripping the context from the art form, she could to teach
as many people as possible, more easily. Otani Yoshiteru, founder
of New York Budokai, is a rare exception to this trend, though since his
retirement none of the rest of us have made ethical concerns as much a
part of training as he did.
The only time ethical
issues come up is, unfortunately, when a problem arises, by
which time crisis management becomes more important than giving the
ethical instruction that might have prevented the problem in the first
place. Is it a good idea to teach ethics in an adult martial arts
class? Is there a way to do so without offending students or "turning
off" potential students?
The first part of the
answer is relatively easy in terms of koryu, at least. The samurai
class, developers of koryu, subscribed to many ethical texts.
Some samurai families had their own codes of ethics, passed down through
generations, added to or modified as times changed.
One good example is the Koyo Gunkan, the code of ethics and
strategy of the Takeda clan (Bennett 1999). A portion of the Koyo
Gunkan, the Kyujukyu Kaken of Takeda Nobushige, written during
the mid-16th century, notes, “Endeavor never to take a person’s life” (1999,
29).
Though the Hagakure was written in the mid-Tokugawa era, it
is a reflection of consideration of ethical codes of the time. “During
happy times, pride and extravagance are dangerous. If one is not
prudent in ordinary times, he will not be able to catch up. A person
who advances during good times will falter during the bad” (1979, 56).
Lest we think no one took this stuff seriously, Hiroaki Sato, in Legends
of the Samurai, excerpts a memoir by Arai Hakuseki (1659 -1725) of
his father, showing the extent that one's character and behavior was a
matter of continuous self-discipline. “Even when he laughed, I don’t
remember him doing so loudly. Much less so when he scolded someone;
I never heard him raise his voice. When he said something, it was
sparingly; he never carried himself lightly” (1995, 282). In
modern times, there was Nitobe Inazo's Bushido, which, contrary
to some popular beliefs is a memoir of Nitobe’s samurai family upbringing
rather than a doctrine, written originally in English in 1899. “The
tripod that supported the framework of Bushido was said to be Chi, Jin,
Yu respectively wisdom, benevolence and courage” (1975, 64). These
philosophical considerations became part of koryu practices. For
example, in Tamiya ryu iaijutsu, the first cut of a kata is not necessarily
a death blow; rather, it is intended as a warning to break off an attack
or face dire consequences (Alexanian 1998, n.p.).
Therefore, teaching an ethical component to koryu not only should be self-explanatory, it could be considered part of a teacher's obligation, especially if that obligation is to teach culture along with technique. As most people in this room know, in teaching sword technique, proper manners and self-discipline in the dojo is essential to learning potentially deadly techniques in an atmosphere of trust and good will. Ethical training goes beyond to how one conducts one's life outside the dojo as well. This is where things get sticky. I have unfortunately heard of an aikido student who behaved well-enough in the dojo, but used the techniques he learned there to beat up his wife when he got home. No one in the dojo knew what he was doing until he was arrested. While there is no way a teacher can foresee such an event, an emphasis on proper conduct both in and out of the dojo gives notice that such behavior will not be tolerated, especially if it is accompanied by swift action if trouble does happen. (If it sounds like I'm talking about children's martial arts training here, maybe its because in some ways, it's not all that different.)
The first factor in
ethical teaching, therefore, is prevention. I hate to put it so bluntly,
but some people don't belong in your (or anyone else's) dojo. Sometimes,
if you polish a tile to make a mirror, all you get is a worn-down tile,
no matter how much you polish. No amount of ethical talkings-to will
get through to some people. Like the Tyco CEO, they figure the rules
don't apply to them, and do what they want regardless of how it affects
anyone else. In a small dojo, this can be a very big problem.
The best solution is to establish early what is expected of
people, and de-invite them to practice if necessary. This can
be very painful for everyone; but in my experience, it has been worth the
heat when I've had to take it for a better quality of student.
It beats the alternative - losing better students who have been annoyed
or victimized by the "rough tile." Obviously this flies in the face
that anyone can learn to be a better person through budo. Is it snotty?
Yeah. Do I care? No. If someone is going to raise a bokuto
over my head, I better be able to trust him. More importantly, if
she raises it over one of my students' heads, I had better make sure of
that trust.
Next, bring up ethics in class. Mr. Otani used to do this. When I was first starting at NY Budokai, he would show up in class on a regular basis, several times a month. While he would always work on technique with us, he also always had us sit down for a talk. Among the things he brought up were:
Will teaching ethics in a martial arts class offend some people? Maybe. They may feel that, as grownups, they already know this stuff. Or they may feel (wrongly) that the teacher is putting herself on a pedestal by talking about ethical conduct. Those with exclusivist religious beliefs may feel you are intruding. Observers in your class may think you are being "preachy," instead of getting to the "good stuff." Well. What good is technique if you don't know how to apply it? Maybe you don't really need them in your class anyway.
Does anyone care about
ethics anymore? George H. Bristol, a U.S. Marine Corps officer, credits
studying koryu with providing a sense of ethics he feels is lacking in
modern military training (2002). Such training makes him both a better
officer and a better soldier, able to exercise compassion and not just
lethal technical expertise imparted by his military training. To cite an
even more unusual example: A young Maasai tribesman was in NYC when the
World Trade Center was attacked. As a warrior, he felt he had to
do something, but it seemed there was nothing he could do to assist in
fighting on our behalf. When he returned home, he told the villagers
what happened in New York. The Maasai have no telephones or television,
and don't even know what a skyscraper is. Never mind. When
they heard about the number of people killed and wounded, arrangements
were quickly made to offer 17 cows to the surviving victims of the WTC
disaster. A cow is one of the most valuable of a Maasai’s possessions.
Giving one,
let alone 17, entails great personal sacrifice and is considered an
extremely honorable act. The cows were symbolically accepted by a
U.S. diplomat, and warrior honor was satisfied (no, the cows are not on
their way to New York). While this is a quaint story on the one hand,
on the other it is very moving that somewhere in the 21st century, there
are people who still consider honor to be a concept worth exercising when
the need arises. We can do no less.
Copyright 2002 Deborah Klens-Bigman
Bibliography
Alexanian, Michael
1998 Personal communication.
Bennett, Alexander C.
1999 “Neglected treasure, the Koyo Gunkan” Sword
and Spirit Berkeley Heights, NJ: Koryu
Books p. 35-58.
Bristol, George H.
2002 “The professional perspective” Keiko Shokon
Berkeley Heights, NJ: Koryu Books p.
179-194.
Nitobe, Inazo
1975 Bushido: The warrior’s code Burbank,
CA: Ohara Publications.
Nosanchuk, Terry
1998 “Martial arts: the non-violent way?” paper given
at the Guelph School of Japanese
Sword Arts, University of Guelph, Ontario.
Sato, Hiroaki
1995 “Arai Hakuseki: ‘My Father’” Legends of the
Samurai Woodstock, NY: Overlook Pr. p.
273-286.
Takeda Nobushige
1998 “Kyujukyu Kakun: The ninety-nine precepts of
the Takeda family” Sword and Spirit
Berkeley Hieghts, NJ: Koryu Books p.
17-34.
Tsunetomo, Yamamoto (W.S. Wilson, tr.)
1979 Hagakure New York: Avon Books.
Webster-Doyle, T.
1997 “Viewing human conflict through the martial
arts” Journal of Asian Martial Arts 6:2, p.
80-95.