The Japanese Judoka’s problems

Up to now I have spoken about the differences between sport and budo, but this topic will never really be complete until we clarify the issue I will address now: how should we interpret the situation in which judo, one of the budo disciplines, takes part in the Olympic Games, the world’s largest and most prestigious sporting event? More precisely, it is not so much a matter of “Olympics vs. judo” in itself, as of understanding what essential issue blurs the difference between sport and budo and how we should interpret it. Until we reach this point, no matter how much we discuss the historical differences and characteristics between sport and budo, the fog surrounding them will never fully lift.

This situation is the result of a “chemical reaction” brought about by the encounter—through the shared discipline of judo—between Japanese people, who did not know the sporting mindset, and foreigners, who did not know the budo mindset. By analyzing this reaction we can identify the essential problem.

Judo was included as an official event at the Tokyo Olympics in 1964 (for women, starting with the Barcelona Olympics in 1992). The internationalization of judo was the dream of its founder, Jigoro Kano, and that dream was realized when judo officially entered the Olympic program. For the Japanese of the time, and for Kano himself, this was the first step in spreading Japanese judo around the world; they could not imagine that it would also be the first step toward transforming judo into a discipline aligned with global sporting standards. From then on, the countries that adopted judo studied the Japanese discipline intensively, seeking to catch up with and surpass Japan by improving their technical level.

However, the philosophy that Kano instilled in judo is based on a budo attitude. It is a Way that aims at character formation, as expressed in the principles of “maximum efficiency with minimum effort” (Seiryoku Zen’yo) and “mutual prosperity and benefit” (Jita Kyoei), and it implies a lifelong quest. Therefore, this philosophy needed to be transmitted gradually through instructors capable of understanding it deeply. Yet once judo became an Olympic sport, it was swept along by the speed with which it spread throughout the sporting world, without either enough well-prepared instructors or the time required to teach these values properly. Moreover, Kano and the Japanese involved in the internationalization of judo were simply filled with emotion at the realization of their dream of spreading Japanese judo worldwide, and they had an optimistic outlook. They did not adequately consider the problems that would arise in trying to convey the concept of budo within a sporting context.

Japanese judo had begun preparing to become an Olympic discipline shortly before the Tokyo Games, introducing rule changes to adapt. However, starting with the defeat of a Japanese competitor by the Dutchman Anton Geesink in Tokyo, losses accumulated, strengthening foreign countries’ influence over the rules of judo competitions. Consequently, Olympic judo underwent repeated changes—such as adding prohibited techniques and altering refereeing and other regulations—all based on criteria of sporting rationality. But as these changes advanced, Kano’s original philosophy became more and more obscured.

Foreign athletes therefore approached judo as an Olympic discipline, developing strategies based on sporting logic to beat the Japanese. By contrast, Japanese judoka continued to seek a spectacular ippon (Migotona Ippon), yet still within sport’s value criteria. This is like trying to fight within a circle drawn inside a square, inevitably leaving empty spaces at the corners. If it were a match between people who understand judo as budo, no one would enter those corners; the bout would remain within the circle. But for foreign athletes, who have always regarded judo as an Olympic sport, it is natural to exploit those empty spaces with tactics grounded in sporting logic.

The character “柔 (ju)” in judo means “soft,” and this name already expresses the essence of judo: “softness overcomes hardness.”

On a superficial analysis, it may seem natural that force subdues softness, the large dominates the small, the strong defeats the weak. But the bodily awareness required for softness to prevail over hardness lies much deeper than these simple, apparent phenomena. Seeking and developing this latent human capacity is precisely the point of systematizing the act of combat and dedicating a lifetime of practice to it. To discover the technique of softness, rules are not enough: one must first, voluntarily, suppress one’s own inner rigid tension. Yet in the Olympic world—governed by rules modified according to sporting rationality and oriented toward victory—encounters based on softness no longer appear.

When victory becomes the overriding priority, it is logical and natural to seek the quickest path—the one in which hardness subdues softness. But the more this victory-oriented rationality is pursued, the more judo turns into “剛道 (godo), the Way of Hardness, instead of judo,” losing its essence of softness.