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THE MIRROR May 2005 Moral
Stances on Shaky Ground
Janet Rosen and
Katherine Derbyshire, copyright 2005
Over
on aikido-l recently there was a pretty wide-ranging conversation about human
competitiveness and how it manifests in the aikido dojo, where the usually stated
ideal is to not be competitive, but cooperative or at least harmonious. The question
was asked, “Why is it that Aikido seems to have more than its share of very
small minded and insensitive people? Of both genders? Is it the way Aikido is
being taught in some dojo? Is it the moral stance of the art?”
Janet posted a reply, Katherine posted a response to the reply, each of us essentially
saying, “Yes, part of the problem lies in the moral stance of the art,”
and so a column was born....
In many dojos, representing the full range
of styles and affiliations, newbies are told WE ARE SPECIAL. We are caring. We
are nonaggressive. O Sensei was a genius, a wizard, a wonder, he reinvented
the martial arts and we are the living legacy.
IN any context, telling
people that they are an elite sets up a strong potential for an "us vs.
them" superiority attitude. Furthermore, being told that one is special tends
to lead to less self-examination, rather than more. If simply studying aikido
makes you a Good Person, then you don't actually need to do any of the real heavy
lifting needed for real self improvement. Research and direct experience have
demonstrated these cause-and-affect phenomena in other settings, from families
to workplaces to nations. Why are we surprised to see them in the aikido dojo?
All too often, despite lip service to harmony, what is actually being taught
in the body is the imposition of technique. How many times, in how many dojos,
have we heard this from an instructor? "Well, you are supposed to do ikkyo
now, and if uke won't cooperate, DO this TO her in order to make it work.”
Naturally, the student who is trying to “do this to her” meets
resistance from her training partner, to which she responds with resistance of
her own.
So now we have a culture that tells the newbie he is special
for training in this art, but the difference between what is preached and how
he is actually learning to move and to interact with a partner creates a profound
cognitive dissonance. Why are we surprised when the result is a group of people
engaging in competitive struggle rather than cooperative exploration?
The student is learning tension that physically closes her off from her own body,
not to mention her partner. In both body and mind, she is engaging in conflict
with her partner. Attempting to follow the typical instructions to "relax" and
"blend" is often inneffective. As uke, relaxation is likely to be perceived as
vulnerability, particularly when one's partner believes that more effective technique
requires more muscle. As nage, relaxation is often embodied as limply fading out
and disconnecting from one’s partner. In both roles, when “relaxation”
clearly does not “work,” the student reverts to more muscle and more
conflict. She is not encouraged to think about, articulate or confront her tension
and the negative buttons being pushed in her training. At the same time, the stated
philosophy continues to be that everybody is being harmonious here. So this dichotomy
is learned as normal.
In a person or a family we would call this passive-aggressive.
Why are we surprised to see a passive-aggressive dojo culture?
Meanwhile,
it's very easy to get the chicken (aikido principles) and the egg (effective technique)
mixed up. Saying "technique that embodies aikido principles is effective" is not
the same as saying "technique that is effective embodies aikido principles." The
first statement claims that, if you do it right, aikido works. The second makes
the much more questionable claim that if your aikido works, you must be doing
it right. The distinction between the two is important, but subtle enough to escape
scrutiny, especially if one is not inclined to self-examination.
In some
dojos, the cultural norms also discourage honest feedback to or challenging of
the partner as being unharmonious. Add that to the skewed mix, train for a few
years to get some rank, and you end up believing that
(a) your technique always
works (because people never challenge you),
(b) if your technique works you
must be doing "good aikido,"
(c) if you are doing "good aikido" then you must
be a Good Person.
Then, along comes someone who has trained in other
martial arts, or in an aikido dojo that encourages honest feedback. What does
the Emperor do when shown that he has no clothes?
This is where things
can get ugly, and all too often pretty words about harmony and compassion for
one's partner go flying out the window. If you hang around aikido people long
enough, you'll hear horror stories about how this or that instructor turns vicious
when challenged, how it's safer to just do what is expected.
But aikido
is a caring, nonaggressive art. There are no bullies in aikido, right? Right.