Breaking with the 'No-Kumite' Ideology: How Real-World Experience Redefined Aikido – An Interview with Master Tenkei Fujisaki of Hatenkai Aikido, Part Five

 

 

There was a time when I believed that kumite [sparring] was unnecessary in Aikido. The training I pursued for ten years, starting from the second grade, was centered on rigorous kata [pre-arranged forms], and free-form sparring was not encouraged. In fact, I think I perceived Aikido as a "special martial art where one could become strong without engaging in kumite."

However, somewhere in my heart, I had the desire to improve—"to become more skilled, to become stronger." At the time, the paths shown to achieve this often involved the study of atemi—strikes such as punches and kicks—or the mastery of weapon arts like the sword and staff. There were also approaches that emphasized spirituality and introspection, such as studying scriptures, researching the dōka [poems on the Way] of the founder, Morihei Ueshiba, or training in the unseen power of "Ki." In any case, the option of "kumite" barely existed in my thinking back then. I believed that the rational movements embedded within Aikido's kata would function effectively even in the freedom of live sparring.

 

But that belief was overturned by a certain incident. As I have mentioned before, when I was unexpectedly confronted on the street and grabbed by the collar, I was unable to execute a single Aikido technique, despite ten years of training. What instinctively protected me was a movement ingrained in my body from Judo—a martial art I had only practiced for three years and had not touched for several years since.

"If you master the kata, your body will move naturally in a crisis, even without kumite." I had accepted my teacher's words as a vital lesson. But reality was different. My faith in Aikido's practical utility was shaken. I was made painfully aware of the reality that repetition within the limited environment of kata practice does not easily translate to effectiveness in the unpredictable circumstances of the real world.

 

Looking back, in Judo, I had always engaged in randori [free-style practice], constantly feeling the movements of a live opponent, unbalancing them, and throwing them in a practical back-and-forth. This, I believe, is partly why I had developed the ability to respond in a sudden crisis. This experience made me strongly recognize the necessity of kumite in Aikido. I came to believe that the senses, reactions, and technical refinement cultivated through contact with a living person—qualities difficult to obtain through kata training alone—were crucial elements in making Aikido practical. I had never before felt so keenly the difference between intellectual understanding and the understanding gained from direct experience, and the importance of the latter.

 

My perception of atemi [striking] was also prompted to change by another experience. The punches and strikes I was taught were important, which I repeated daily, proved ineffective in a light sparring session with a friend who practiced Taekwondo. Perhaps because my strikes at the time were singular and had large preparatory movements, they were easily read by an opponent with nimble footwork. In fact, many of my strikes were dodged, and I, in turn, was kicked. I realized then that mere formal repetition is not enough to handle a real exchange of blows. I recognized the need for serious, practical striking practice. This, too, was a lesson from real experience that I could not have learned solely on the dojo mat.

In the Aikido world at the time, while the philosophy of being a "non-contentious martial art" was emphasized, there was also a view that "kumite is dangerous" or "difficult to do in the first place." I myself had an image of kumite as something extremely perilous that required a special resolve. However, when I actually participated in a sparring session, I realized it was not nearly as dangerous as I had imagined and could be conducted with safety in mind.

Translator's Note: While kumite carries the same risks as any other martial art or combat sport, it was not the excessively dangerous activity it was made out to be.

This, too, taught me that one cannot grasp the reality of a situation through preconceived notions or hearsay alone, and underscored the importance of one's own experience.

Furthermore, at the time, one would sometimes hear the idea that, "One should train Aikido through kata, and supplement it with kumite from other martial arts." The logic was that by applying sparring experience from other arts, Aikido's practicality would increase. For a time, I also had a certain understanding of this view. But even with my Judo experience, my Aikido kumite did not improve quickly. If the training systems are different, the skills that improve will also be different. Thinking about it calmly, the effectiveness of this approach is questionable. For example, what if a Judoka only did uchikomi [drilling] and, instead of randori, only practiced Sumo? Their Sumo might improve, but it's hard to believe their abilities for a Judo match would. The same can be said for Aikido. If you do not engage in kumite that is tailored to the characteristics of Aikido, it is unlikely to lead to an improvement in Aikido's applicability.

 

This kind of difference in perception can still be seen today. Despite the existence of specialized kumite designed to improve Aikido technique, there are opinions that recommend practicing under the rules of other martial arts, rules in which the use of Aikido techniques is only partially allowed. For example, consider practicing under the rules of a striking-based art like Kenpo or Karate, where Aikido techniques are partially permitted. The main focus of those rules is often on the exchange of strikes, not on Aikido itself. Within a ruleset designed to improve striking, Aikido techniques tend to become supplementary. Even if an Aikidoka who only knows kata were to train hard under those rules, their striking would be the main skill to improve, and it is hard to believe it would directly lead to an improvement in their Aikido. This is a natural outcome, as the primary purpose of those rules is striking improvement. The objectives and effects of specialized kumite and practice under such rules are different. This is similar to how, even if traditional Karate kumite includes foot sweeps, a Judoka who practices under traditional Karate rules instead of Judo randori is unlikely to see an improvement in their Judo throwing techniques.

 

What if that experience on the street, the sparring session with my friend, and the experience that changed my perception of kumite had never happened? I would probably have continued without question as a traditional Aikido instructor, focusing on kata and formal striking instruction. Or I might have gone in a different direction, such as studying dōka or pursuing "Ki," far removed from sparring.

Of course, I do not mean to say that studying the founder's poems has no value in exploring the cultural depth of Aikido. That is a meaningful pursuit in itself. On the other hand, from the practical standpoint of self-defense, these pursuits are of a different nature than the direct, contact-based training of kumite. It is appropriate to see them as different facets of the multifaceted martial art that is Aikido.

 

It is because of these real-life experiences, and the moments when my preconceptions were re-examined, that I was prompted to seek a new direction in kumite and practical striking training, which led to the establishment of my current teaching style. I have come to recognize anew the importance of experiencing things for oneself, and I have made this the foundation of my instruction. And I believe that to achieve the goal of self-defense, kumite training is one of the effective means, even in Aikido.

Our doors are open to those with no prior experience. There is no need to fear kumite excessively. When conducted with safety in mind, it can be a meaningful practice that leads to personal growth.