AIKIDO AS A FORGE

I have been focusing on tanren-geiko and drawing out a muscular pressure from both uke and nage in order to cultivate honest training.

“Whatever has value in the present world has it not in itself, according to its nature—but rather because it has been given value, and frequently because it was regarded as valuable by a higher power.”
— The Will to Power

Nietzsche reminds us that techniques are embodied responses that resulted in winning.

For an idea to propagate and be transmitted it must have utility – even when watered down to an art. Aikido’s techniques no longer have direct application to survival on a battlefield, but their value remains to cultivate the spirit in the crucible of contest. Yet struggle and competition is now suspect. Contest implies victory, and victory implies defeat—an unpalatable notion in an age that seeks beauty without effort. Thus, the cooperative contest in the dojo is a path for personal refinement. Tanren training is the hammer and fire that make the blade. We must remain honest that beauty is an emergent characteristic of hard work.

_____________________________

That brief thought was inspired by a rather insipid comment that stuck with me longer than I should have let it:

A visiting student had the temerity to write an email to Mike Napoli after taking one of my classes. Her complaint? That my focus was too violent and that Aikido shouldn’t be taught that way. She is wrong, probably read too much John Stevens.

Let’s start there.

What you find in many dojos today is the result of deliberate forgetting. It is not evolution. It is not refinement. It is editorial omission. Omission combined with the lack of vigorous training and devoid of practical application.

My polemical style is theater designed to provoke a response and act as a crucible of character. If you don’t understand the seriousness of my play, to preserve and transmit the fire within the art, then I have no need of you. Nor does the art, which already suffers too many fools. It is not enough to say that Aikido is peaceful; we must say what it was, how it changed, and what that change costs. Mine is an attempt to recover the reasons for the form, the purposes embedded in technique, and the intent that once governed practice.

The techniques of Aikido did not arise from nothing. Ueshiba studied under Sokaku Takeda, inheriting Daito-Ryu’s joint locks, pins, and throws. These were battlefield techniques, designed for armored opponents, often in situations where weapons were lost or compromised. The locks had intent: to disarm, disable, control, or kill. Aikido’s foundational techniques are of that system.

And Aikido’s spiritual foundation is also culturally specific. O’Sensei was a member of the Omoto sect, a radical Shinto-derived movement led by Onisaburo Deguchi. The Omoto-kyo religious movement was a quasi-Shinto, quasi-Buddhist sect that preached universal peace, but a peace based on Japanese divine leadership. Ueshiba was a follower of its prophet, who was both charismatic and politically dangerous. In fact, the government cracked down on Omoto violently in 1921 and again in 1935, for sedition. The Omoto sect was not some gentle ecumenical philosophy it was nationalist, messianic, and millenarian. Omoto believed in Japanese divine destiny, in the descent of Amaterasu, and in a future world reshaped by Japan’s spiritual centrality. The universalism it preached was not egalitarian; it was a hierarchy with Japan at its summit.

This is crucial to understand, because it frames what Ueshiba meant when he spoke of harmony. Harmony was not the erasure of conflict; it was the orchestration of conflict toward divine ends. And Aikido, in that frame, was a ritualized expression of power properly aligned with cosmic order.

After the war, this was no longer acceptable. Omoto had already been suppressed by the Japanese state for its millenarian activism, and its association with Aikido became a liability in postwar Japan. Under the guidance of his son Kisshomaru and later interpreters like Koichi Tohei and John Stevens, Aikido was rebranded. The nationalist and esoteric Omoto elements were carefully rescripted with Buddhist and universalist tones to emphasize concepts not inherent in the origins: “reconciliation,” “harmony,” and “spiritual development.” The pacifist myth of Aikido was born through a great act of editorial mediation. Kisshomaru Ueshiba’s 1957 book Aikido, and later Stevens’ volumes, cherry-picked from O-Sensei’s writings and stripped away most of the Omoto-kyo-specific language. This was intentional. You can’t market a martial art with millenarian Shinto prophecy in the West.

And this changed the presentation of the techniques and the way they were taught. Atemi (strikes) were removed or marginalized. Ukemi became performative. Entries became stylized, the finishes elongated, the structural integrity diluted. The pedagogy shifted from combative realism to cooperative demonstration.

It is here that John Stevens makes his fatal error. In portraying Aikido as a pure expression of peace, he abandons its origin in tactical necessity. Beauty, he insists, is the purpose. But beauty is not the purpose. As I wrote above: “The beauty is an emergent characteristic of the hard work.”

Teachers like Kazuo Chiba kept the blade edge sharp. Chiba, a postwar uchideshi, often spoke of Aikido as a “forging” process—not therapeutic but transformational in the old, brutal way. He saw the pacification of Aikido as a betrayal. “That man will ruin my art,” Ueshiba is reported to have said about Tohei. Chiba took that warning seriously. He understood that Aikido is a budo—a martial path. His practice retained atemi, retained tension, retained danger. He said explicitly: “The budo of Aikido is hidden.” And he meant hidden in plain sight. Just as Okinawan karate hides its bunkai within kata, Aikido hides its combative grammar beneath the veneer of flowing movement.

Chris Mulligan, was at Seagal’s dojo during the early development of Above the Law. Whatever one thinks of Seagal now, that film did more to restore Aikido’s reputation as a martial art than anything in the previous decade. It showed Aikido as forceful, arresting, impactful. It did not show Aikido as a dance. This was before The Perfect Weapon and Jeff Speakman’s cinematic legitimization of Kenpo. And both of them emerged from the long shadow of 1970s kung fu theater, where the martial was stylized to the point of opera. Seagal, for all his faults, brought back the shock of impact.

Impact matters. Aikido without impact is choreography. Aikido without structural pressure is delusion. We train tanren-geiko to forge this pressure, to let uke and nage feel the honest exchange. The goal is not to defeat your partner but to reveal the technique in full tension. That tension is where the truth resides.

And that brings us back to the student who wrote to Napoli. She saw violence where I see structure. She saw aggression where I see control. She wanted Aikido to be peaceful by omission. I want it to be peaceful by choice—a peace made possible by capacity, not by fantasy. Aikido is not safe because it lacks danger. It is safe because it contains danger within form. To practice honestly is to preserve controlled danger.

Bibliography

  • Bodiford, William. “Religion and Spiritual Development in Aikido.” Journal of Asian Martial Arts, Vol. 16 No. 4, 2007.
  • Chiba, Kazuo. The Sword and the Mind: Teachings of a Warrior. San Diego: Birankai Publications, 2003.
  • Chiba, Kazuo. The Structure of Aikido. San Diego Aikikai Publications, multiple editions.
  • Dykstra, Yoshinobu. “Omoto and the Japanese Religious Tradition.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 7, no. 2–3 (1980): 139–160.
  • Hurst, G. Cameron. “Death, Honor, and Loyalty: The Bushidō Ideal.” Philosophy East and West 40, no. 4 (1990): 511–527.
  • McCarthy, Patrick. Bubishi: The Classic Manual of Combat. Tuttle, 1995.
  • Pranin, Stanley. Aikido Pioneers: Prewar Era. Aiki News, 1997.
  • Pranin, Stanley, ed. Aikido Masters: Prewar Students of Morihei Ueshiba. Aikido Journal, 1999.
  • Pranin, Stanley, ed. Conversations with Aikido Pioneers: Postwar Interviews. Aikido Journal, 2003.
  • Stevens, John. The Secrets of Aikido. Shambhala, 2002.
  • Stevens, John. Abundant Peace: The Biography of Morihei Ueshiba, Founder of Aikido. Boston: Shambhala, 1987.
  • Takeda, Tokimune. Daito Ryu Aiki Jujutsu: Hiden Mokuroku.
  • Tissier, Christian. Aikido Fondamental. Paris: Éditions du Cuirassier, 1986.
  • Ueshiba, Morihei. Budo Renshu. Aiki News, translation 1991.
  • Ueshiba, Morihei. The Art of Peace. Translated and edited by John Stevens. Boston: Shambhala, 1992.
  • Ueshiba, Kisshomaru. Aikido. Tokyo: Hozansha Publishing, 1957.

WEAPON RETENTION

The banner image is a sobering reminder that retaining control of your weapon is imperative in close quarter combat. Primary weapons are always carried at the waist, thus the focus on chudan level.

The ritual endures longer than the reason for it – try to deduce the martial logic behind the ritualistic rote repetition in the art.

Ai-hanmi katate dori ikkyo ushiro tenkan

Uke attempts to grasp nage’s weapon that is held by the obi (belt) on the left hip. (Because warriors are right handed, this is a RvR encounter.)

Nage withdraws the weapon handle from uke’s grab by turning the left hip while using the left hand to raise the handle vertically and making a small step ushiro tenkan. Uke then orients to take nage’s right hand – the only viable target.

Nage cams their grabbed arm – elbow down, shyuto rotating inward – which defines the axis of the encounter where uke’s need to keep contact (lest nage immediately deploy the weapon) necessitates that uke’s elbow is moving vertically upward while their balance is being drawn forward. Keeping the grabbed hand as a static point, nage can use their left hand to control uke’s elbow and execute a controlling cut through uke’s center.

This narrative could be expanded to describe nage using their left hand to feed the saya up so as to place the handle into their right hand, which would allow (with a drop of nage’s hip) drawing the weapon and use it as an inducement for uke to move (as the blade rests against the back of uke’s neck).

Note that this presentation – and narrative description – of ikkyo is very different from an action in superior time. In superior time, ikkyo is a “lumberjack jam,” or an immediate counter-strike, or makiotoshi, or a lead to other techniques, which is why ikkyo really is a path to solve the infinite.

As a weapon-retention technique, the ikkyo narrative presumes a standard (nails-up) draw of the weapon.

A nails-down (reverse grip) draw results in irimi-nage.

Ai-hanmi katate dori irimi nage

Uke reaches for nage’s sheathed weapon. Nage slips irimi in time so that the weapon moves past uke’s grasp, while grabbing the handle in reverse grip, so that nage’s body movement effectively draws the weapon and uke is forced to grab nage’s weaponized hand – the knife point already toward uke’s center. Only uke’s extended arm prevents nage from immediately using the lethal point. The goal is to make your opponent place their body on your weapon’s point.

This momentary impasse where nage is behind uke, in their shikaku, while uke is preventing the stab, is solved by nage grasping uke’s neck with the left hand, making a small inward rotation to torque uke’s neck and spinal alignment, while keeping inward pressure with the knife and simultaneously shifting bodily back on an outward angle. This multi-vector movement will destabilize uke. If uke relents on the pressure holding nage’s knife, then nage will deploy it immediately. If uke keeps the tension while being destabilized, then nage has the opportunity to use their grabbed arm to throw uke using a traditional irimi-nage throw (rotational throw using the freedom of action at the shoulder).

An attentive reader should understand that these descriptions are a re-framing of Okamoto sensei’s demonstrations.

AIKIKEN AND THE AXIS

This (1/25/25) was the first class after the end of Kangeiko and after Okamoto sensei’s visit to Portland Aikikai. It was *scolding-look* a lightly attended class.

Favorably, lower attendance provides a forum to explain the principle of the axis of an encounter using a weapon.

The first explication: shomen-uchi from the draw to irimi-nage.

Both ukedachi and shidachi face one another with swords in the saya.

Ukedachi draws first and cuts shomen uchi.

Shidachi draws second and meets the ukedachi’s descending blade to adhere to it and ride the momentum to the bottom of the stroke while moving irimi to ukedachi’s shikaku. The moment the two swords meet is the axis of the encounter and should be the point of the arc of ukedachi’s sword at maximum extension. This is the neutral point where shidachi can move toward ukedachi’s flank because the swords define the vertical arc of danger. The weapons provide a visual and physical barrier that shidachi solves for by allowing his sword to shield (not block) ukedachi’s strike and afford a path of safety to ukedachi’s dead angle.

The mechanics of the draw requires precise use of the body – lowering the center while the left hand pulls the saya back and the right hand is fed the handle to then continuously draw to the top of the arc and simultaneously cut – and is a skill that must be developed. Aikido’s empty hand strike shomen should replicate the subtlety of an iaido draw. We did not have time to fully explore the draw, but rather, focused on the moment when the blades adhere, and then follow to the culmination of the arc of movement. At the bottom on the cut, shidachi’s blade is on top of ukedachi’s and therefore is in a tactically superior position – ready to ride to the opponent’s throat. The threat of the cut is precisely the same as the use of the shyuto in ai-hanmi katate dori irimi nage.

Both players should have a natural extension of their arms to keep the sword alive – full of the potential for action. The quality of connection should be obvious with a weapon in hand – each player should sense the vibrancy, a light tension where the downward pressure of shidachi’s blade holds ukedachi’s upward action. From this moment, shidachi embodies the principle of katsujinken to ride ukedachi’s blade with the mune (false edge) leading toward ukedachi’s neck only to then pass it and turn the kissaki down – live edge out – replicating the empty-hand irimi-nage throw. The bunkai should be obvious. Should shidachi turn the live edge in, the cut is lethal.

Once the basic form is understood clearly, then the focus shifts to the terminus of the cut. The swords ride to the bottom and remain in active connection, this is an extension of the axis of action away from the limits of the body – the connection has moved to the weapons themselves. This should be a familiar concept. When we drive, the car becomes an extension of ourselves in a similar manner. We learn to know when the front bumper is danger-close to an obstacle. The extension of “ourselves” is the boundaries of our vehicle. So the extension of self through a weapon should be as prosaic as driving. Thus at the bottom of the cut, when the swords ride upon each other, shidachi should be able to sense an active connection back to ukedachi’s center.

Weapon work should make the reason for connection explicit. If ukedachi drops his sword tip and breaks connection, shidachi can freely cut to the neck. Only an active and extended connection affords ukedachi any semblance of hope for survival. Using the active connection, shidachi can play with pressure to destabilize ukedachi just like irimi-nage. That was the somatic similarity I tried to draw out, to make Okamoto sensei’s use of the shyuto more obvious and emphasize the need and reason for active connection. Weapons make clear what is only implied in taijutsu.

The next explication: morote-dori kokyu ho.

Nage is armed, but the sword is in the saya. Uke approaches to control nage’s weapon hand. Sensing the hostile action, nage presents the arm forcing uke to grab at the top of an arc, allowing nage to lead uke’s energy down while nage moves offline (approximately 33-degrees). This is the same position Okamoto sensei use for gyaky-hanmi encounters. The importance of this initial movement cannot be understated because it defines the axis of the encounter. Nage’s hand flows vertically down the axis while uke cuts, thinking there is the possibility of controlling the arm. Nage’s hand must be knuckles toward the inside of their own lead leg. Nage: do not drop your head or bend at the waist! Back is straight, the hand on the saya lifts it skyward, pushing the handle down into the grasped hand, and simultaneously turns the saya blade down while drawing it back and nage shifts bodily back, allowing the grasped hand to grab the handle in order to draw simultaneously. A complex sequence of events that must be done smoothly to execute a clean draw of the blade. Once free of the saya, the blade arcs out and up so that nage’s arm is softly but fully extended. Nage follows the draw with the back foot in order to then pivot and cut. The result will be kokyu-ho because the blade bypasses uke’s neck (extends beyond it, because nage moves in, rather than steps back – which would result in uke’s death).

The specific lesson is that nage moves around the original axis, and minimizes the horizontal movement of the grabbed arm. To accomplish this, nage’s shoulders must be held softly and the elbow must never fold – resist the use of the bicep!

Wielding a weapon should increase the seriousness of training and lead to a better understanding of the principles informing the empty-hand (taijutsu) techniques.