These unfortunate trends have resulted in competitive tests unrelated to combat, swords unsuited to combat, and in judging that fails to sufficiently value combative qualities. I once observed a tournament in which several kodansha (holders of fifth and sixth dan) marked a succession of knockout contests involving basic cuts on a single rolled mat target. The tournament overseer, an eighth dan, then showed me his own marking sheet. In many cases he had given a different result. He pointed out that the judges had looked only at the targets, while he had been watching the competitors as well. This tendency is inevitable since the results of the cut on the target are easy to distinguish, while the qualities of the cutting action itself and the degree of zanshin and kihaku are much more difficult. The most important factor is the free, full, and centered movement that indicates ability to respond on the battlefield (see chapter 6). If one is unable to break an opponent’s guard or to overcome one’s own fear, technical proficiency in cutting is meaningless. A judge who lacks such qualities will be hard put to recognize them in others.
Sequence of Learning
All of the seven basic cuts should be tested against targets and in the same order as they are listed in chapter 1. Tsuki practice should also be included. The ability to thrust effectively will come easily after regular uchikomi practice, but hikinuki, the withdrawal after thrusting, can only be learned by first thrusting into and then withdrawing from a substantial target (similar to the heavy bags used in bayonet training). Hikinuki practice is at least as important as the thrust itself, since it requires considerably more power than the thrust because of the way cut tissue binds to a sharp blade. (This phenomenon also accounts for the way in which the two sides of a wound cling together for several moments after a sharp blade exits and before the blood begins to flow).
The basic cuts should first be practiced standing still and then while stepping in and stepping back. As soon as these actions are performed competently, targets should be set up for test cutting while performing kata. This will quickly reveal that the key to tameshigiri is ashisabaki. The current emphasis on cutting one target many times at great speed is unrelated to combat, where one may well need to deal with more than one mobile opponent. Arm speed is largely irrelevant, whereas integrated and free body movement is essential to responding successfully. A similar enthusiasm for thicker and thicker targets is also misplaced as it encourages excessive force and favors those of heavy body weight who would be severely disadvantaged in actual combat. Although genuine tatami omote2 makes the best targets, the lightweight and much cheaper beach mat will test most aspects of cutting skill (see figure 13).
Figure 14. Multiple targets. The sword is swinging through in preparation for cutting the target behind.
When the basic kata can all be accomplished with successful cuts, multiple targets should then be placed at various heights, angles, and intervals. One must be able to use half steps, cross steps (turning in and turning out), and syncopated steps to quickly and efficiently move into a cutting position while maintaining one’s center. Only then can one learn to use the momentum of the cutting sword between targets. In totsugeki (an advanced practice in Nakamura Ryu) the swordsman must run through a series of targets arranged to the left and right of a center line, cutting each one while passing. Sato Sensei, the current Shihan of Nakamura Ryu, says that with the exception of Nakamura Sensei, he has never seen anyone able to do this without stopping at each target.
Another realistic test is for a swordsman to stand in the center of a number of varied targets marked with numbers or different colors and for an observer to call the order of targets to be cut. In a real situation one might have to respond immediately and appropriately to a number of attacks or threats from different directions. This would require skills never tested in the conventional taikai (tournament) format. Similar deficiencies in the traditional firing range led to the creation of the “Killing House” for the close-quarters training of special forces.
A skill not required with firearms is the ability to use body weight and leverage to complete a cut or free the sword from disentanglement when the target moves during a cut. I had the chance to talk with a retired British cavalryman who was instructed in his youth by veterans of cavalry battles. These instructors stressed the vital importance of knowing when to release a trapped sword to avoid ones arm being ripped out of its socket (the saber was attached to the arm by a retaining cord so it could be recovered).3 Even without the added complication of a galloping horse, the clash of forces between two swordsmen might be considerable. The ability to cut through moving targets without bending, breaking, or losing one’s sword requires a phenomenal tenouchi, nimble footwork, and some grappling skills. Heavy swinging targets give some idea of these demands, but this practice should first be attempted by striking with a bokken because of the obvious dangers to sword and person.
Performing tameshigiri when one is rested and composed does not reproduce the demands of combat. Tameshigiri carried out immediately after several minutes of kumitachi or kirikaeshi is an altogether different challenge.4 As we shall see in the next chapter, technical abilities rapidly disintegrate with fatigue as well as fear.
These advanced practices are as dangerous as they are instructive, and they require great skill and confidence. The key to safety, especially with the practice of tameshigiri, is never to practice techniques beyond one’s competence but to proceed systematically, step by step, through the syllabus (see appendix V).
Swords for Tameshigiri
One should be able to use the same sword effectively in kata and tameshigiri; where this is not possible, the swords used should be similar in weight, length, and balance. Many of the swords used in tameshigiri competitions are too heavy, long-handled, and poorly balanced to use in combat. Although it may be possible to cut through huge targets with such weapons, they have nothing to do with budo, where one must be able to maneuver, parry, and avoid the blows of an opponent. Heavy swords also encourage incorrect use of upper-body strength and excessive body weight. If one chooses to fight with a heavy sword, one should study a school of armored swordsmanship (where its use would be appropriate) and master the deep stances, body weight utilization, and grappling techniques common to such schools. At the other extreme, some use excessively light swords that facilitate fast cutting combinations through soft targets but would be useless against bone and flesh.
Benefits of Correct Practice
Although tameshigiri can easily foster greed and excitement, done well it achieves very different ends. The Zen adept Takuan’s treatise on Fudochi (immovable wisdom), which was composed for the benefit of the sword master Yagyu Munenori, describes Right Mind as “Mind that stretches throughout the entire body and self, whereas Confused Mind congeals and sticks to one place.”
The act of cutting, executed and conceived correctly, releases the mind from such congealment. If the action is less than wholehearted or if the action is emotionally driven, this result is not achieved. Pure awareness and pure energy are the required constituents. The ability to cut freely in any direction and to move effortlessly from one cut to another, from one target to another, and most importantly from one opponent to another, is a demonstration of jiyujizai (the state of complete freedom without restriction; literally “freely free”). This quality, implicit in the act of cutting, is utilized in the meditative ritual of kujigiri or nine-character cutting (which we will examine in the last chapter).
1. From Nakamura Taisaburo, Nihonto Tameshigiri no Shinzui (The Essence of Japanese Sword Test Cutting), extract translated by Guy Power and Takako Funaya.
2. This is the top layer of the tatami matting used in traditional Japanese rooms. Over time this becomes soiled and damaged and must be replaced. This discarded material is free and readily available in Japan, and it is commonly used for targets. Outside Japan the same material must be purchased new and at considerable cost.
3. The equivalent cord for the katana is termed udenuki and is attached through holes in t
he tsuba (sword guard), indicating similar concerns.
4. Similar considerations prompted European armies to create the modern pentathlon, in which competitors combine shooting with running and swimming.
Kumitachi—Sparring
6
In the cold fire of the dragon’s eye,
no sword, no mind, no enemy.
kumi: cooperating, grappling with
tachi: long sword
Musha Shugyo
If an art cultivates skills applicable in combat, the activity is rightly designated musha shugyo—a “martial” discipline. Other practices belong to the realms of sport, dance, or religious ritual. The ability to discriminate between these different activities is critical to success in this shugyo. Until the Meiji era, combat sword skills in Japan were tested either in battle or through dojoyaburi—the challenging of champions of other schools. Whether in one-on-one duels with minimal protective wear or in the clash of heavily armored combatants on the battlefield, the chance of death or crippling was high and many engagements ended in aiuchi (mutual striking).
In the absence of such experiences, maintaining the combat reality of sword arts requires great diligence. In some ways (as we noted in the last chapter) this challenge is similar to that faced by armies. In any age, military success depends on ensuring that weaponry and tactics will withstand the actual conditions of the battlefield. Aside from these technical issues, the critical matter is the adequate preparation of the combatants themselves for the stress of combat. To be effective as a path of self-cultivation, musha shugyo must reflect the same realities.
Physiological testing of modern battlefield combatants has demonstrated to scientists what veterans have always known. Life-threatening confrontations flood the body with stress hormones. Reduced sensory function, the loss of fine motor control, evacuation of bladder and bowels, and the inability to think clearly can all occur very quickly. A full-blown reaction results in an inability to act due to paralysis or uncontrollable shaking. In other cases, hysteria leads to irrational, even suicidal, behavior.
Yet the most disabling psychological factor on the battlefield is not fear of death or injury. Before research undertaken during World War II there was little appreciation outside the ranks of infantry veterans of how many soldiers resisted orders to kill the enemy. The instinctive aversion to killing is so strong in most people that it will fatally slow down or inhibit appropriate action even when their own lives are threatened. A small portion of the population lacks this inbuilt restraint, but for the vast majority, extreme and exhaustive measures are required to overcome its debilitating effects.
In large conscript armies, results must be achieved quickly and cheaply. For millennia these measures have included the use of martial music, emotional conditioning to build mob fervor, and blunting of the faculties with drugs (usually alcohol). The most extreme and abhorrent device is the deliberate brutalization of troops like that encouraged by the Japanese commanders of the Nanking campaign, in which many troops were ordered to bayonet prisoners on pain of their own death. The training of elite troops—who must be able to demonstrate initiative, perform complex tasks, and remain effective for long periods—may include some of these elements, but depends more on intense, sophisticated, and prolonged training.
It has been my good fortune that several of my teachers over the last forty years have been war veterans, two of them in the special forces. Their quality as teachers derived in large part from these experiences, as much from the efforts they had made to overcome the negative consequences of those experiences as from any attributes directly gained. Such teachers understand the true intensity of keiko (training) but will not permit emotion, machismo, or hysteria to infect the dojo.
For those inclined to lament their lack of combat experience, it should be noted that many who survive such trials physically whole are irreparably damaged in other ways. A little study will reveal that many earned their place in the ranks of the greatest swordsmen in Japan without fatal encounters, including Choisai Ienao, the founder of Katori Shinto Ryu. Indeed, this man is recognized by many as the greatest adept of all because he reached such heights without killing. Nor does “success” in killing in itself bring one to great skill, as Miyamoto Musashi notes in his preface to Gorin no Sho (The Book of Five Rings). He describes how, by the age of thirty, he had defeated more than sixty opponents (killing many of them), and yet on reflection he realized he lacked any deep mastery or realization of his chosen path. He surmises that his success had been due to the inadequacy of the teachings of other schools and his unconscious natural behavior rather than any special skills he had cultivated. Twenty more years of practice “day and night” were required to bring what he considered mastery.
On the battlefield, the sight of massed troops advancing with swords or bayonets drawn has often prompted defending forces to break and run. The formation of the Yamashita Special Attack Force in Manchuria by the Japanese army was intended to take advantage of this effect. Following his qualification as an instructor of sword, knife, and bayonet in jissen budo (real-combat martial arts) at the Toyama Army Academy in Tokyo, Nakamura Sensei was sent to Manchuria. One of his tasks there was to instruct the officer cadets of the Yamashita Special Attack Force in the use of the sword. The purpose of this intensive quick training course was to “intensify the depth of confidence in your cuts and thrusts, using the army sword without mistake. Self-confidence will be imparted to all by means of hand-to-hand combat.”1
Three goals were specified for this training plan:2
1. Ichizan hisatsu no kigai: courage (kigai) to kill unfailingly with one stroke2
2. Goken ni naru kiryoku: (develop) the vigor that is/brings sturdiness
3. Gijitsu no kenma: polishing of technique
The courage to kill (1) was cultivated through the practice of tameshigiri—the union of all the faculties in one concentrated strike. Although kiryoku (2) contains the character ki, it does not have the specific connotations of kiai or kihaku and is a generic term for strength. The important word here is goken, which indicates a steady strength and lasting courage. Reliance on emotional charge or adrenalin rush will be rapidly followed by shock and exhaustion.
Although the hormonal “storm” cannot be suppressed altogether, it is possible to avoid debilitation. It may be that the generation of kihaku stimulates the nodes of the parasympathetic nervous system located in the areas of the tanden and sunden. This system acts as a buffer against the effects of the fight-or-flight mechanism. In this way it is possible to retain the capacity for intense action together with peripheral senses, motor control, and awareness. In the same way that the trained body manifests soft and hard qualities according to requirements, so the mind can combine great calmness and intense arousal. This method is vastly superior to the brutalizing of troops. However, like the polishing of technical skills (3), it requires specialized training over a considerable period of time.
The ability to manifest such qualities away from the febrile intensity of the battlefield is a mark of genuine kigai. A samurai was expected always to be ready to act as kaishakunin: this role involved assisting a disgraced comrade or honorable opponent to commit seppuku (ritual suicide) by decapitating him after the initial wounding. This act required considerable skill and composure, as one was expected to leave the head hanging by a flap of skin.
Similar qualities were often required in rather different circumstances in Manchuria and World War II. Nakamura Sensei discovered through his research that the reality of military executions was often very different from the notorious accounts of the ruthless beheading of prisoners of war. Due to a mixture of incompetence and hysteria, repeated attempts were often required, and executioners sometimes missed altogether, injuring themselves. The father of a friend of mine served as a surgeon with a regiment of the Japanese army in Manchuria. He was so horrified by the appalling suffering of the condemned prisoners that he requested he be allowed to carry out future executions himself. Wit
h a resolution born of compassion (and professional skills) he was able to do what soldiers could not. Despite his composure and motivation, and after surviving several years in Siberian work camps, he suffered considerably in later years as a consequence of these acts.
Kumitachi Training
Some schools insist that only free sparring cultivates the skills necessary to succeed in combat. Yet there is a vast gulf between deadly combat and sparring, however elite the arena. Other schools advocate the practice of kata only and reject sparring because such training gives only an illusion of skills (an illusion that would rapidly break down in a real confrontation). The complete performance of a kata allows the fullest expression of the swordsman’s abilities outside the realm of actual combat. However, such a kata must be brought to a point of fullness and authenticity through uchikomi, tameshigiri, and various modes of kumitachi.
Along with the obvious goals of cultivating a sense of maai (timing and distance) and the ability to move freely in response to an opponent, the crucial point is to make the connection in the beginner’s mind between form, internal energy, and kumitachi. Without this, the beginner will soon try to use emotion, trickery, speed, or power to strike the opponent before kihon are established and before kihaku has been experienced. Teachers should continually remind their students that devices of the calculating mind will break down in a life-or-death confrontation, and emotionally driven attacks will fail against a skilled opponent.
Practiced prematurely, sparring results in the failure to develop both kihon and kihaku and instills bad habits that a lifetime of training will not correct. Prior to World War II, Kendo training avoided this outcome by permitting only kirikaeshi and uchikomi for the first seven years of training. Few students nowadays would endure such a regime.
John Maki Evans Page 7
