Martial Practice in the Modern Age
From time to time, one encounters criticisms directed at other schools or different types of martial practice, such as: “What’s the point of training like that?” or “Those techniques wouldn’t work in real combat.” However, this is not something new; even when examining historical materials, such criticisms can be found scattered throughout.
Some of these criticisms seem valid, while others do not. Training that has lost sight of its purpose and become merely formalized certainly has no real meaning. However, caution is necessary when attempting to judge martial practice in modern society based on whether it would be effective in actual combat.
Across all fields, there exist many different kinds of activities, and their meanings are not always immediately clear unless viewed from multiple perspectives. By doing so, one can find meaning in any activity. That said, the meaning of such activities changes along with the times. In the case of martial practice, if one fails to accurately grasp these changes and consider them from a future-oriented perspective, there is a risk of losing sight of its significance. This viewpoint should also serve as a foundation when considering the difference between budo (martial ways) and bujutsu (martial techniques).
There is no doubt that the purpose of practicing budo or bujutsu is “to become strong.” In ancient times, this arose out of the necessity to become strong for real combat. However, over the long course of history, the development of civilization has enabled us to travel anywhere on Earth, and our awareness now extends even to the opposite side of the globe. Accordingly, our strategic awareness has also evolved—from a time when it only needed to encompass one’s family, neighbors, and fellow villagers, to an era in which one must consider the entire world. In other words, in modern society, the social necessity—or “direct” meaning—of becoming strong in the primitive sense of physically subduing one another has largely disappeared.
One decisive difference between the past and the present is the sheer volume of information. The vast array of strategic information available from external sources serves as valuable reference material for reviewing and improving one’s own strategies. If one can clearly understand who uses what techniques at what level and how they move, one can revise daily training content and direction accordingly. Furthermore, if one can create a situation in which others know nothing about oneself, one can gain an advantage in conflict.
Therefore, in order for martial practice to truly function as a strategy, it is fundamentally necessary to keep information about one’s methods secret. This can also be understood from the fact that all nations maintain classified information in their ongoing strategic interactions. In the past, martial knowledge was often passed down only to a single heir or kept strictly within the school. Even when one was allowed to enter, the prevailing approach was “learn by watching,” and it was rare for a master to provide detailed instruction.
But what about today? Many dojos recruit students openly, share information through social media, and engage in exchanges with other schools and organizations. Compared to the great masters of the past, even amateur enthusiasts today possess and can discuss far more extensive knowledge. Looking at how information is handled, it becomes clear that modern martial practice is moving in a direction opposite to functioning as a strategy.
At the same time, the act of striving to become strong in this primitive, physical sense contains within it rich opportunities to learn, notice, and discover various aspects of the human body. If these elements can be drawn out, they can contribute to people’s health and mental well-being. In this sense, the modern approach to martial practice tends to focus on these aspects, aiming to educate and share them in pursuit of a fulfilling life.
Thus, in modern society, martial practice has been elevated into a form of physical culture. Unless the purposes of practicing budo and bujutsu—and even the meaning of “becoming strong”—continue to diversify, it will be difficult to find significance in these activities.
Those who train in traditional Japanese weapon arts such as kenjutsu, naginata, or kyujutsu are often able to devote themselves to practice with an understanding of this more refined concept of strength, even without explicitly recognizing it.
On the other hand, in the realm of unarmed practice, daily life itself is unarmed, and there is an aspect of applying such skills as self-defense. This tends to create confusion when considering its significance. I believe that, in order to advance unarmed martial practice in accordance with a clear concept of bujutsu and budo, effectiveness as self-defense should be regarded as a secondary benefit rather than the primary objective or end goal. At the very least, if one confuses unrealistic, film-like worlds with everyday life and is satisfied merely with becoming strong in a primitive sense of fighting, the direction of such martial practice will become increasingly misguided.
When considering budo and bujutsu from a future-oriented perspective, it is necessary to reexamine, even in the realm of unarmed practice, what martial activity should be in the modern age and what it truly means to become strong today.