CHRISTOPHER MULLIGAN in AIKIDO JOURNAL

Chris Mulligan sensei sent me the draft format of this article in February 2020 for a quick review. His article makes explicit how he connects language acquisition with teaching and learning Aikido; which I have referenced numerous times in earlier posts. The published version is copied in full below.

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Christopher Mulligan Sensei began studying Aikido in 1974. He spent 11 years in Japan studying mostly at the Hombu dojo in Tokyo. Chris, along with Yoko Okamoto Sensei, established Portland Aikikai in 1993. Since returning to Japan in 2002, he has held the role of senior instructor at Aikido Kyoto, a prominent Kyoto-based dojo headed by Dojo-Cho, Yoko Okamoto. He holds the rank of 6 dan shihan. In addition to his Aikido expertise, Christopher has been an ESL/EFL teacher and administrator for nearly thirty-five years with an expertise in curriculum development, material selection, and design. In Japan, he has taught full time at several universities (Temple University, Kansai Gaidai, and Ritsumeikan University) as a lecturer, assistant professor, and associate professor.

Christopher Mulligan, teaching at Portland Aikikai’s 20th Anniversary

“Research and development in any field should drive practice, not tradition.”

In both first and second language acquisition, children or beginning students often apply a fallacious learner strategy referred to as “overgeneralization.” This is when learners overgeneralize a grammatical rule in cases where it doesn’t apply. In the case of the past tense, they apply the –ed form with irregular past tense verbs, as well: “I goed to the store,” “I knowed what he said,” “I swimmed in the river.” These are not necessarily errors, but rather interim linguistic stages of their interlanguage (Selinker, 1972). In aikido, we often see the same with beginning students. For example, in the process of doing katatetori ikkyo, where the nage correctly controls uke’s hand while holding the thumb, yet when coming down to pin, nage suddenly changes their grip and holds the wrist as in shomenuchi, or yokomenuchi ikkyo. Here, as in language development, they are overgeneralizing the shomenuchi version of the pin. This is an example of analogies that I often use in my aikido classes. I see the world through the lens of a linguist.

I have been an ESL /EFL instructor for more than 35 years. I have been studying aikido even longer and have been teaching for more than 30 years. Along the way, I have noticed and often incorporated similarities of language acquisition to that of aikido development in the dojo. There are many similarities not only in the metalinguistic acquisition process, but also similarities in the subsequent pedagogical execution of both. These similarities are not just inherent in aikido, but also apply to all body arts in general.

In Mistuzuka Sensei’s dojo with Didier Boyet in the 1980s

Input

In order to learn language we need input. In language, the input can come in the form of heard speech or written text. The input has to be comprehensible as well. Comprehensible input is input that contains language that is a bit beyond the current understanding of the learner—and the focus is on meaning, not on grammatical form (Krashen, 1982). Children in an elementary school would not acquire Chinese by listening to Chinese news programs, because the input is beyond their comprehension. We move to a higher level when the input is just above our present level, or what Krashen would term i+1 (1982).

In aikido the input comes in  two ways basically: visually watching the teacher throw and maybe to a certain extent, the verbal explanations presented. This is visual and auditory input. The input can also come from being thrown. Here, information or input is transmitted by sensation. We get to feel for how the waza should be done, or not be done depending on the quality and experience of the nage. Moreover, the input the learner sees or feels should be within their range of comprehension. Thus, the need for varied levels and the opportunity to train with people who are above their level is essential. Being thrown by the instructor is also crucial because this is the most direct way for a student to be given correct input keyed to the level of the student. The inappropriateness of the input is often demonstrated in seminars, when beginning-level students flounder in intermediate or advanced oriented classes. They see but do not comprehend.

“As instructors, we often see students who have plateaued, or whose development seems to have been arrested or fossilized. The ability to heighten attention and awareness in the dojo is a controversial one. Do we try to lower the affect, making it more relaxing—or does a higher affected, more martial atmosphere help sharpen attentiveness?”

In ESL/EFL, there are those who oppose pair or group work because the input they receive from fellow students at their level will not be near to or native proficiency, providing what is called “bastardized input.” The fear is that input provided by non-native proficiency will lead to fossilization: where incorrect language becomes a habit and cannot be easily corrected. In aikido, the image the students receive is also very important; it cannot be bastardized. If the body is the mode through which this input is transmitted, then the teacher needs to have a command or proficiency when demonstrating. Just like with language acquisition, the input must be provided by a “native speaker.” The critical question then is: Have the teachers who are teaching truly achieved a mastery proficiency of the art necessary to provide the quality input needed for acquisition to occur correctly?

Teaching bokken at Portland Aikikai in 2020

Output

As well as input, we also need output. According to Swain & Lapkin (1995), output allows second language learners to identify gaps or differences in their linguistic knowledge, first by attending to the input and second by making efforts to communicate. We do this by noticing specific features in the input, comparing them to our present understanding, and then attempting to utilize the differences in an utterance. This is what is referred to as hypotheses testing. By uttering something, the learner tests this hypothesis and subsequently receives feedback from an interlocutor. If the utterance is not successful the speaker may (consciously or unconsciously) revise communication—gradually rising to a higher-level proficiency.

In language, interaction usually occurs in discourse, but in aikido it occurs when we throw each other. The learner attends to the input by noticing specific aspects of the teacher’s demonstration, footwork, handwork and comparing it to their present understanding, then with their partner they attempt to apply the difference. The feedback they receive will either validate or negate their hypothesis. This feedback enables reprocessing of the hypothesis if necessary with subsequent throws. Just like hypotheses testing in language, being attentive to the feedback from uke, the student’s proficiency will gradually rise.

An important point to mention here is that the process of “noticing” and “comparing” creates a richer form of input commonly referred to as intake. Many students watch but they do not see! According to Schmidt (1994), a direct link between input noticing and production must be established for acquisition to occur. Only when the input is attended to can further processing be possible and this is especially true when the input is unstructured or lacks a specific focus. The process looks something like below:

With Yoko Okamoto Sensei at Hombu Dojo in the 1980s

Input-noticing–comparing-testing –revising

In Taichi, for example, if I am following my teacher doing the 24 yang form, I notice that her hand position is higher than mine. The comparison helps me adjust getting me closer to a more competent performance. As the teacher comes around and provides correction, she will either confirm or negate the adjustment.

This begs the question of what is the appropriate feedback. How much leeway should students be given in order to expedite their hypotheses testing? Does this directly contradict an art that is often times transmitted in a highly orthodox, stylized manner, thus frustrating the process?

“The input the learner sees or feels should be within their range of comprehension. Thus, the need for varied levels and the opportunity to train with people who are above their level is essential. Being thrown by the instructor is also crucial because this is the most direct way for a student to be given correct input keyed to the level of the student.”

Schmidt (2001) further states that the students’ lack of proper noticing or attention and awareness is the main cause of language fossilization whereby regardless of the amount of correct input a learner is exposed to, many features of the language still become stubbornly arrested in their second language (L2) acquisition.

As instructors, we often see students who have plateaued, or whose development seems to have been arrested or fossilized. The ability to heighten attention and awareness in the dojo is a controversial one. Do we try to lower the affect, making it more relaxing—or does a higher affected, more martial atmosphere help sharpen attentiveness? Moreover, in smaller dojos that do not have the luxury of providing basic classes, beginners who start in mixed-level classes, where there is no systematic pedagogical progression, often miss fundamental features of the techniques that they would have otherwise naturally been exposed to in fundamental classes.

In the dojo, how do we facilitate the input to intake process? In the classroom, the language task or the isolation of specific features in the input creates the opportunity for noticing. A well-structured class with clear goals and objectives helps expedite this process. The teacher creates an environment that makes learning possible and provides a delimited goal to provide clarity. In the dojo, having a theme or specific focus helps students better attend to the input. Clustering elements into a logical provocative flow: Are you just taking five techniques (responses) from one attack or are you using the input to teach a certain principle: for example, where is the point of disengagement from a grab, or using the triangle as a tool for destabilization. The theme gives the input an intellectual or emotional charge that helps the information stick. Additionally, are the classes well-structured, demonstrative, and are the techniques done in a highly repetitive fashion providing repeated opportunities and time for students’ hypotheses testing?

Another way to draw a student’s attention to certain features and encourage noticing is the use of consciousness-raising activities. In grammar, it is an approach that provides specific data and students have to create the rules inductively (Ellis, 2002). Or showing how one feature that seems structurally similar actually operates differently in context. For example, tag questions, which are structurally identical, may have a falling intonation, denoting confirmation and rising intonation indicates the need for clarification. “This is the chemistry lab, isn’t it?” (falling: where the speaker is quite certain that it in fact is) compared to “This is the chemistry lab, isn’t it?”(rising: where the speaker is in doubt and seeking confirmation of the assumption).

On test, students often confuse the handwork on yokomenuchi shihonage and shomenuchi shihonage, the latter requires a crossing of the hands before you strike with a cut.  Same is true for yokomenuchi kokyunage and shomenuchi kokunage. Teaching these two forms together, and highlighting the differences implicitly or explicitly may make students more conscious of the differences, creating a higher level of noticing.

Training with Chiba Sensei in 1987

Surface Level vs. Deep Structure

According to the Oxford Dictionary of English Grammar (2014): “Deep and surface structure are often used as terms in a simple binary opposition, with the deep structure representing meaning, and the surface structure being the actual sentence we see.” Chomsky (1964) identifies this linguistic dichotomy as a way to address some of the weakness of structural linguistics and to show that language learning is not a process of imitation, but rather an internal cognitive activity. It also helps explain ambiguities in the language. “I shot an elephant in my pajamas,” “Bob likes Mary more than me,” or “Call me a cab, please.” The meaning of the concrete surface representation lies in the deep structural grammatical transformation.

“I recall training with a peer at the Hombu Dojo. Initially, I was trying to be the alpha dog, however, my partner responded with an equal amount of aggression—instead of resulting in mutually-assured destruction, implicitly without verbalization, we adjusted the intensity of our attack, eventually finding a medium for optimal training, where we both benefited. “

In aikido, the taijustu (body art) would be the concrete surface manifestation of a waza, but the rationale for the technique probably comes from the use of sword or spear, residing in the realm of the deep structure. Aihami nikkyo was probably applied when an opponent grabs a swordsman’s hand trying to prevent them from drawing, then the swordsman applying nikkyo with the hilt of the sword as the counter. This may reinforce the belief that only through weapons training do we truly acquire a deeper knowledge of the aikido body arts.

Moreover, because the acquisition of language is an internalized cognitive process, once the process has been triggered, it becomes generative in nature. Chomsky stated that there are unlimited possibilities once the acquisition process has started. Language is not something that is memorized. Aikido in a sense can be the same. Once you have acquired the foundation there is any number of generative possibilities.

Christopher Mulligan at Tenshin Dojo in Osaka, Japan, 1980

Negotiation of Meaning

A basic principle of second language learning is the need to negotiate meaning in any language-learning situation. Once meaning is established, comprehension follows.  It is “the process by which two or more interlocutors identify and then attempt to resolve a communication breakdown” (Ellis, 2003, p. 346). It is a communicative repair-oriented “modification and restructuring of interaction between interlocutors when they experience comprehension difficulties” (Pica, 1994, p. 494). Long (1996) suggests that this process creates a higher potential for understanding between interlocutors. The strategies of negotiation, in this case, include the listener’s request for message clarification and confirmation; the speaker may then repeat, elaborate, or simplify the original message. These strategies are also inherent in both L1 (native language acquisition) and in L2 (second language acquisition).

In aikido, we either consciously/unconsciously—verbally or nonverbally– try to achieve a resolution to a breakdown in training—trying to adjust our effort to achieve a medium where optimal training can occur without a win/lose end-game. The negotiation will differ according to the power relationship between each practitioner. I recall training with a peer at the Hombu Dojo. Initially, I was trying to be the alpha dog, however, my partner responded with an equal amount of aggression—instead of resulting in mutually-assured destruction, implicitly without verbalization, we adjusted the intensity of our attack, eventually finding a medium for optimal training, where we both benefited. This negotiation of meaning is also an important part of conflict resolution, the process by which two or more parties reach a peaceful resolution to a dispute.

Portland Aikikai, 2019

Accuracy vs. Fluency

In language learning pedagogy, there is a spectrum ranging from accuracy on one end and fluency on the other. Accuracy is the ability to produce language with grammatical and lexical accuracy, while fluency requires learners to produce language in a more coherent holistic way—in normal communication. Where we are on the spectrum, will often be determined by the level or the focus of the class: skill-based vs. communication-based. In more elementary levels, the focus would shift more towards an accuracy-based position, focused on the technical details, and gradually moving to the other end of the spectrum as the level goes up where the details are incorporated into the organic flow.

In aikido, on the accuracy end, working on conditioning skills and basic forms (kihon waza), or gradually grading activities from simple to more complex helps promote this process. The over-reliance on accuracy, however, can create students who lack fluidity and tend to be lumbering in their movement. The need for fluency, getting students to move in a smooth and fluid way, (nagare waza) where they are able to improvise and generate various possibilities is also crucial. Here jyuwaza (free movement) practice can be effective. Where you are on the spectrum, often depends on the level of the students. In basic classes, teachers should lean more towards the accuracy end, and in advanced classes, more towards the fluency side, ending each class with at least 10 minutes of jyuwaza.

Another way the accuracy/fluency dichotomy can be manipulated is by deconstructing a waza (accuracy): breaking it down into its logical parts and then reconstructing it, the same way you would a paragraph or an essay. The deconstructive approach allows students to see the discrete parts and how they connect to make a whole (the trees vs. the forest approach). This is a manageable way to lead students from discrete forms to a whole movement, while at the same time addressing differences in learning styles and broadening the level that can be accommodated in each class.

AikidoKyoto, hosting the dojo’s 15th Anniversary in 2018 with Miyamoto and Tissier Sensei at the Budo center in Kyoto

Peer Learning and Zone of Proximal Development

The zone of proximal development (ZPD) has been defined as: “the distance between the actual developmental level as determined by independent problem solving and the level of potential development as determined through problem-solving under adult guidance, or in collaboration with more capable peers” (Vygotsky, 1978, p. 86). Peer learning is a way that you can accommodate a wider range of levels in one class by combining less-experienced students with students who have greater experience or expertise. In the classroom, it is done by skillfully pairing or grouping students with “more knowledgeable others” (Wood, et al., 1976), ensuring classroom interaction, and providing necessary scaffolding and support activities to make the information more accessible to a wider range of learners.

In its pure and productive form, this should be the goal of the sempai/kohai relationship, and not as a form of control and power. I am amazed at how the range of learning possibilities changes in a beginner’s class with the presence of senior students. The less-experienced students are able to accomplish something they normally could not have achieved on their own or with a student of the same level.  At the same time, the sempai (more experienced peers) gain a deeper understanding of the skill by transmitting it. We learn the most when we teach something! Therefore, having black belts and more experienced students attend beginner classes not only expands the zone of development but also accelerates the learning process for a whole range of students.

Last Word

Conclusion

Research and development in any field should drive practice, not tradition. This is illustrated by the poor quality of English language instruction in Japan. Teachers are not informed about the recent developments in second language acquisition (SLA) or are overwhelmed by the stubborn ingrained reliance on an arcane grammar-translation approach where the majority of classroom input is still in Japanese. The more informed you are about the process of language learning, the more effective you will be as a teacher. This also applies to the teaching of aikido. How many instructors are educators, who, aware of the process of learning, are utilizing the latest research and development to create a more systematic, pedagogical approach to the teaching of body arts? Could this be one of the factors for the decline of the art in the USA? Teacher certificates are issued, but based on what? Is there explicit instruction given on how to teach more effectively, how to manage a class (especially of children), and  how to manage a dojo? Is attending several seminars a year providing the instruction necessary to be an effective teacher? This-is-the–way-my-teacher-taught paradigm is impervious to the fact that curriculum development and pedagogy is an “ongoing, and iterative process” (Dawley & Havelka, 2004) that is constantly changing according to innovations in the field of education.

References

Chalker, S., & Weiner, E. (2nd Ed.). (2014). Oxford Dictionary of English Grammar. Oxford University Press.

Chomsky, N. (1964). Current Issues in Linguistic Theory. The Hague: Mouton.

Dawley, D., & Havelka, D. (2004) A curriculum development process model. J. Coll. Teach. Learn. 1, 51– 55.

Ellis, R. (2002). Grammar Teaching-Practice or Consciousness-Raising? In J.C. Richard & W.A.Renandya (Eds.), Methodology in Language teaching. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Ellis, R. (2003). Task-based language learning and teaching. Oxford: Oxford     University Press.

Gagliardi, A. (2012). Input and intake in language acquisition. (Doctoral Dissertation). University of Maryland, USA.

Krashen, S. D. (1982). Principles and practice in second language acquisition. Oxford: Pergamon.

Long, M. (1996). The role of the linguistic environment in second language acquisition. In W. C. Ritchie & T. K. Bhatia (Eds.), Handbook of second language acquisition. New York: Academic Press, 413–468.

Pica, T. (1994). Research on negotiation: What does it reveal about second-language learning conditions, processes, and outcomes? Language Learning, 44.3, 493–527.

Selinker, L. (1972), Interlanguage. International Review of Applied Linguistics, 10, 209–231.

Schmidt, R. (1994). Deconstructing consciousness in search of useful definitions for applied linguistics. AILA Review, 11, 11-26.

Schmidt, R. (2001). “Attention.” In P. Robinson (Ed.), Cognition and second language instruction (pp. 3-32). Cambridge University Press.

Swain, M., & Lapkin, S. (1995). Problems in output and the cognitive processes they generate: A step towards second language learningApplied Linguistics 16: 371-391, p. 371.

Swain, M. (2005) “The output hypothesis: theory and research”. In E. Heinkel (Ed.), Handbook of research in second language teaching and learning, 471–483. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates

Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Wood, D., Bruner, J. S., & Ross, G. (1976). The role of tutoring in problem solving. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry, 17(2), 89-100.

Frank Herbert

Arrakis teaches the attitude of the knife—chopping off what’s incomplete and saying: ‘Now, it’s complete because it’s ended here.’ 

Dune, Collected Sayings of Maud’Dib by the Princess Irulan

I first read most of the Dune saga in high school and arrived at college in Oregon eager, naïvely, to meet its author. A classmate from the Pacific Northwest laughed and told me Herbert had died earlier that year (February 11, 1986). The desert already had reclaimed its prophet.

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The seed of Dune sprouted in Florence, Oregon, where the U.S. Forest Service was experimenting with sand stabilization to keep dunes from swallowing the highway. Herbert became fascinated by the physics of moving sand (fluid dynamics) and wondered: what if an entire planet behaved that way? From this question flowed another realization: most religions arise in the desert. Out of that terrain Herbert layered ecology, anthropology, and theology to produce an epic: man shaping his world and the world reshaping him. “Ecology,” he said, “is the science of understanding consequences.”

Ecology as the premise

The political architecture of Dune is explicitly feudal; a recognition that human societies, left to themselves, crystallize into hierarchy. Herbert used that archaic clarity to expose the mechanics of power. He distrusted centralized authority and viewed bureaucracy as entropy in political form.

I wrote the Dune Saga because I had this idea that charismatic leaders ought to come with the warning label ‘May Be Dangerous To Your Health’

JFK was on his mind; Paul Atreides became the example. The hero’s arc was itself the warning label.

The religious and psychedelic threads (prescient vision, ancestral memory, the trance logic of prophecy) were likely deepened by Herbert’s experiments with peyote and his 1960 friendship with Alan Watts. These encounters widened Dune’s exploration of time and identity, of consciousness folded into matter. The Zen-Sunni syncretism and the Orange Catholic Bible anchor Paul’s metamorphosis from noble to messiah. In gaining mythic vision he forfeits individuality, dissolving into the Jungian collective he embodies.

The Fremen form Dune’s moral axis; a persecuted people who remain resolutely stoic, adaptive, ecological. Paul joins them and is remade as Muad’Dib. The parallels are deliberate: T. E. Lawrence, leading his men to Aqaba on one horizon, the Islamic Mahdi on another. Their prophecy promises a leader who will “guide us into paradise.” Paul fulfills it, reclaims his title, ascends the throne, and begins to green the desert. Yet in Herbert’s geometry, every paradise conceals its own fall; the seed of jihad germinates in the first oasis.

Herbert had originally conceived Dune and Dune Messiah as a single novel showing Paul’s ascent and fall entwined. Only at his editor’s insistence was it divided for length. Thus Dune ends at the false summit of triumph, where the myth still shines. “The difference between a hero and an anti-hero,” Herbert observed, “is where you stop the story.” Messiah resumes the line and bends it downward. Paul abandons, in fear, his prophetic visions. The Jihad has shattered feudal limits: humanity expands explosively, but at an immense cost of life.

Herbert deliberately ended Dune at the point of Paul’s apotheosis. As Herbert said, “The difference between a hero and an anti-hero is where you stop the story.” That distinction becomes explicit in Dune Messiah, where Paul abandons, in fear, his prophetic visions. The Jihad has shattered feudal limits: humanity expands explosively, but at an immense cost of life.

Paul’s son Leto II inherits the burden and conceives the Golden Path: a forced evolution to prevent extinction. He sees that humanity, if left within its feudal terrarium, will suffocate. Merging with sandtrout, he becomes the God Emperor: half human, half worm, wholly necessary because it was the only means to extend his life, to become the God Emperor, and force humanity down the path.

Ever the ecologist, Herbert warns us against humanity becoming a monoculture. As large as it was, the known universe could be controlled by a single interest (the spice) and single will (the God Emperor). Such a structure is vulnerable. Leto’s rule is purposefully oppressive to “teach humanity a lesson that they will remember in their bones.”

What is that lesson?

That safety breeds extinction. Sheltered safety inextricably culminates in species stagnation and death. To inoculate the species, Leto restricts spice, limits travel, and engineers pressure to force rebellion, dispersal, and the evolution of minds opaque to prescience.

Herbert understood that humanity needs conflict and volatility to flourish. He knew that peace, pursued too perfectly, becomes a trap. Leto’s tyranny drives humanity outward, guaranteeing survival through diversity.

Herbert treated evolution not as backdrop but as engine. The Fremen and Sardaukar are early proofs: harsh worlds forge superior stock. Under Leto’s empire, breeding replaces battle as selection pressure. By Chapterhouse, even the average human runs marathons; the exceptional dodge las-fire. The Bene Gesserit’s ancestral recall and the Honored Matres’ synaptic ferocity are refinements of the same law; environment sculpting potential.

Heretics of Dune shows that the Golden Path succeeded. Prescience no longer governs destiny; human will is free again. The newly arrived Honored Matres return from the Scattering with lethal skills but flee an unnamed, greater threat.

By Chapterhouse: Dune, survival seems assured, though danger remains diffuse. The species endures precisely because control is gone and human potential is unlimited.[1]

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Below are images from Mother Earth News, #69, May/June 1981 – an interview with Frank Herbert.

>This< recent paper on cellular learning is an intriguing potential – some basis for the idea of gholas and genetic memories? Can single cells learn?

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[1] I do not consider anything written by Frank Herbert’s son as canonical. I have read only the first few chapters on one of the all-too-numerous additions. Unfortunately his son is not the writer his father was.

Gene Wolfe

Although I would not call myself a science-fiction aficionado, two of my favorite authors are Frank Herbert and Gene Wolfe.

Two days after my father died, Wolfe followed (April 14, 2019), two lights dimming together, oddly twinned in my memory.

Wolfe’s obituaries appeared in the Washington Post, The New Republic, and The New Yorker.

The Modern Melville

Wolfe’s The Book of the New Sun (1980-1983, 1987) comprises The Shadow of the Torturer, The Claw of the Conciliator, The Sword of the Lictor, The Citadel of the Autarch, and The Urth of the New Sun. Set in the far future when the Sun itself is dying, it is on the surface a bewildering chronicle of an exiled torturer. He has been rightly called “the Modern Melville” for his narrative density, theological depth, and intertextual brilliance.

As may be evident from some of the footnotes in these posts, I like to find connections among disparate sources. Recently I read an article in Nature that reminded me of Wolfe. That article reported on a paper published in 2011, entitled “Observation of the Dynamical Casimir Effect in a Superconducting Circuit.” Its abstract distilled a revelation:

One of the most surprising predictions of modern quantum theory is that the vacuum of space is not empty. In fact, quantum theory predicts that it teems with virtual particles flitting in and out of existence. While initially a curiosity, it was quickly realized that these vacuum fluctuations had measurable consequences, for instance producing the Lamb shift of atomic spectra and modifying the magnetic moment for the electron. This type of renormalization due to vacuum fluctuations is now central to our understanding of nature. However, these effects provide indirect evidence for the existence of vacuum fluctuations. From early on, it was discussed if it might instead be possible to more directly observe the virtual particles that compose the quantum vacuum. 40 years ago, Moore suggested that a mirror undergoing relativistic motion could convert virtual photons into directly observable real photons. This effect was later named the dynamical Casimir effect (DCE). Using a superconducting circuit, we have observed the DCE for the first time.

The existence of these particles is so fleeting that they are often described as virtual, yet they can have tangible effects. For example, if two mirrors are placed extremely close together, the kinds of virtual photons that can exist between them can be limited. The limit means that more virtual photons exist outside the mirrors than between them, creating a force that pushes the plates together. This ‘Casimir force’ is strong enough at short distances for scientists to physically measure it.

The ancients called mirror-divination catoptromancy (Gk. κάτοπτρον, katoptron, “mirror,” and μαντεία, manteia, “divination”). [The Forgotten History of Mirrors] Wolfe re-enchants that forgotten science with physics.

In Chapter 20 of The Shadow of the Torturer, “Father Inire’s Mirrors,” Severian recalls Thecla’s story of her friend Domnina visiting the court magician after witnessing something impossible in glass.

She realized when she see saw them that the wall of the octagonal enclosure through which she passed faced another mirror. In fact, all the others were mirrors. The light of the blue-white lamp was caught by them all and reflected from one to another as boys might pass silver balls, interlacing and intertwining in an interminable dance. In the center, the fish flickered to and fro, a thing formed, it seemed, by the convergence of the light.

The interposed mirrors conjure being from absence. Whether or not Wolfe knew of the 1947 Casimir proposal, Father Inire’s experiment parallels the DCE precisely; light summoned from the void parallels Inire’s summoning a ‘fish’ with his mirrors. The passage continues:

‘Here you see him,’ Father Inire said. “The ancients, who knew this process at least as well as we and perhaps better, considered the Fish the least important and the most common of the inhabitants of specula. With their false belief that the creatures they summoned were ever present in the depths of the glass, we need not concern ourselves. In time, they turned to a more serious question: By what means may travel be effected when the point of departure is at an astronomical distance from the place of arrival?”

Father Inire dismisses summoning a denizen of the mirror as less interesting than the more serious question of achieving faster than light travel. Respecting that nothing can achieve speeds greater than light, Father Inire explains to Domnia that, with concentrated light and optically exact mirrors, “the orientation of the wave fronts is the same because the image is the same. Since nothing can exceed the speed of light in our universe, the accelerated light leaves it and enters another. When it slows down, it reenters ours, naturally at another place.” So, the mirrors effect time dilation or perhaps fold space (like Guild Navigators in the Dune saga).

Because the characters in Wolfe’s epic do not have equal familiarity with technology, the words they use to describe space travel are archaic metaphors – emphasizing the rareness of exposure and the knowledge deficit.

One space sailor that Severian meets, Hethor, describes his ship being:

Sometimes driven aground by the photon storms, by the swirling of the galaxies, clockwise and counterclockwise, ticking with light down the dark sea-corridors lined with our silver sails, our demon-haunted mirror sails…

For Wolfe, technology is a fallen form of miracle, a material echo of divine power misunderstood by men. The mirror-sails that catch light are both engines and icons: they suggest a world where even propulsion depends upon reflection. This is the theology of incarnation: grace moving through matter.

More prosaically, the “mirror sails” recall Clarke’s Sunjammer (1972) and NASA’s 2011 solar-sail tests, but their demon-haunted quality implies risk of summoning. Hethor’s imagery of ticking, spiraling light hints at time dilation and the constant c: corridors of light itself. We learn that these ships (or is there only one?) travel faster than relativistic corridors.

Wolfe doubles the mirror’s function: transport and drive, invocation and motion. Even as Autarch, Severian never masters their nature. Proof that miracle is merely misunderstood engineering.

Beneath the machinery of time travel and the fading Sun [2] lies Wolfe’s Catholic architecture. Severian’s arc parallels the Passion: he is both torturer and victim, executioner and Christ. His memory, fallible yet absolute, functions as conscience made flesh. Expelled from the guild, he descends through suffering, claims the relic of the Claw (a symbol of grace), and finally dies and returns as the New Sun, the Conciliator who renews the world.

In Catholic eschatology, the Second Coming is both judgment and restoration; Wolfe renders it astrophysical. The dying star is creation under original sin; Severian’s resurrection as the New Sun is the redemption of the cosmos itself.

That duality, cruelty redeemed through compassion, reflects Wolfe’s conviction that salvation operates through the fallen. Grace is mediated by imperfection. The torturer becomes the savior because no one else understands pain so well.

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Other textual connections to explore: When first introduced, Tzadkiel is an animal-like apports, evolves to a caveman, then a normal sailor, to a god-like Adonis figure, a giant angel (first male, then female) and as a tiny tinker-bell sized fairy, but Tzadkiel’s true form is likely a star. This alludes to Frank Herbert’s Whipping Star (1970).

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The cloak worn by the Guild: Fuligin and vantablack.

Fuliginous derives from “fuligo,” the Latin word for “soot.” English speakers have been using the sooty connotation since the early 1620s to describe dense fogs, malevolent clouds, and overworked chimney sweeps. “Fuliginous” can also be used to refer to something dark or dusky. In an early sense (now obsolete), “fuliginous” was used to describe noxious bodily vapors thought to be produced by organic processes.

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Wolfe shows the long history of human inhabitation of Urth in numerous and subtle ways – the city of Nessus has migrated along the Gyoll and people scour the abandoned sections for artifacts, mines are cities buried where metal is reclaimed and repurposed, Serverian’s tower is an abandoned rocket. Given the span of time this is only logical. Even now anthropogenic mass exceeds that of all life on Earth.

Visual Capitalist

The immense volume of human-made materials is inescapable in Severian’s Urth because it has been continuously inhabited. A related paper (The Silurian Hypothesis) examines whether it would be possible to detect an industrial civilization in the geological record if that civilization had not persisted:

If an industrial civilization had existed on Earth many millions of years prior to our own era, what traces would it have left and would they be detectable today? We summarize the likely geological fingerprint of the Anthropocene, and demonstrate that while clear, it will not differ greatly in many respects from other known events in the geological record. We then propose tests that could plausibly distinguish an industrial cause from an otherwise naturally occurring climate event.

The inverse of Wolfe’s forward postulating – the Silurian Hypothesis considers the potential that humanity was not the first intelligent species – inspiration for early-Earth sci-fi settings.

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[1] Casimir effect also mentioned >here< in the potential for warp drives.

[2] Severian’s Urth has a terraformed Moon so it is green and larger in the sky because it is closer. The sun is red-hued as it burns the last of its hydrogen. The continents have also continued to drift (but probably not enough given the implied millions of years).

This map from Plan(e)t Engineering

Gene Wolfe provides clues to how far in the future Urth is from us, but never to a level of precision.

Modern stellar physics paints a very different future from Wolfe’s dim red sky. The Sun, a main-sequence G-type star about 4.6 billion years old, is still in its stable hydrogen-burning phase. As it converts hydrogen to helium, the core contracts slightly, raising pressure and temperature, which in turn increases luminosity, about 10 percent every billion years.

In one billion years, that extra heat will trigger a runaway greenhouse effect: oceans will boil, the atmosphere will collapse, and the biosphere will end in blinding light, not twilight. Roughly five billion years from now the Sun will expand into a red giant, swelling hundreds of times its current size and engulfing Mercury and Venus, possibly Earth itself. After that convulsion, it will shed its outer layers to form a planetary nebula and contract into a white dwarf, hot but dim, cooling for trillions of years.

The cosmology is clear: Earth dies by fire long before the Sun fades. Entropy in the stellar sense ends in glare, not darkness. Any world orbiting the Sun in its final age would be scorched, not frozen.

Wolfe knew this. By the early 1980s stellar evolution was textbook knowledge. His choice to imagine a cooling, crimson Sun was deliberate: a symbolic inversion, not scientific ignorance.

He draws instead from H. G. Wells’s “The Time Machine” (1895), whose final pages show the traveler on a frozen shore beneath a blood-red, dying star. Wells wrote before nuclear fusion was understood; he conceived the universe as running down into heat-death and cold. Wolfe retains that outdated image because it harmonizes with his deeper theme of Augustinian decline. In The City of God, Augustine describes the fallen world as light dimming into shadow, awaiting renewal. Wolfe re-casts that theology in cosmological form: the Sun itself is fallen, and its rebirth as the New Sun becomes a literal apocalypse.

If one insists on physical coherence, the text still allows a speculative loophole. A civilization capable of planetary terraforming and interstellar mirrors could, in principle, alter its star’s evolution: siphoning hydrogen for fusion fuel, surrounding it with vast collectors, or dimming its output through Dyson-scale engineering. Such manipulation could extend a star’s lifespan at the cost of luminosity, leaving a system bathed in weak red light; stars visible by day, atmosphere thinned and iron-dust tinted. Urth’s red spectrum and day-visible stars would then mark a technologically-induced senescence, not natural decay.

Wolfe begins where astrophysics ends. He accepts the scientific death of worlds, then reverses it to dramatize the moral death of man. The New Sun promises not a correction of physics but the restoration of grace. The universe, in Wolfe’s telling, obeys thermodynamics only until it remembers God.

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Audiobook links

The Shadow of the Torturer

The Claw of the Conciliator

The Sword of the Lictor

The Citadel of the Autarch

Urth of the New Sun (part 1)

Urth of the New Sun (part 2)

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