In the world of martial arts, Aikido is considered a "soft" art. This basically means that aikido uses finesse, flexibility, and suppleness vice speed, power and strength to achieve its objective of controlling an attacker. The "hard" arts, like Muay Thai, all forms of jujitsu, judo, karate, wushu, etc. tend toward the development of speed, power and strength to control, overpower, and ultimately disable an opponent. Finesse, flexibility, and suppleness are also considered, cultivated and applied but only at the intermediate to highest levels of these arts are they given much attention. But what ultimately makes Aikido as a soft art different from hard arts is in its purest form, strength is not used at all in the controlling of an attacker. In fact, the use of strength shows an aikidoka that his aikido technique is weak and flawed. To understand this concept, it is necessary to look at how training pedagogy differs amongst the hard and soft arts.
Humans are animals and are thus susceptible to animalistic actions. The "flight or fight" response is a simple example. Humans, as with all animals, are psychologically hardwired for this response when faced with a mortal threat. They either run away or stand and fight. And if forced to fight, the average (ie. untrained) individual's instinctive reaction is to strike at the threat with as much speed and strength as they can muster.
The pedagogy of hard martial arts capitalizes on this instinctual psychology and initially teaches easily learned and basically executed hard strikes using the fist, elbow, knee, head, etc. This is why through regular repetitive practice the average individual, in a short amount of time, can develop a basic level of proficiency. That individual can strike hard and fast when needed and is afforded a basic level of self-defense skills. So if necessary, they can stand and fight with a some comfort level in their abilities.
But if you ask that same person with no additional amount of training, to use finesse to achieve their objective, they will not be able to do it. For example, ask this person to use a hammer-fist strike to just barely graze the nose of their opponent to provide a warning blow vice a disabling one. They will not be able to do it. The development of this type of strike to such a level of precision takes years to learn.
This "hard" training pedagogy is effective for basic self defense. I have trained under this type of system and have found it very effective at teaching basic self-defense skills to a high level of proficiency in a short period of time. But one must realize that with this system, precision is sacrificed for speed. Hard arts are like teaching a person how to use an axe instead of a scalpel. It doesn't take long to learn how to effectively wield an axe for its intended purpose. But, it takes years of practice to effectively learn how to use a scalpel for its intended purpose.
Continuing with this analogy, imagine if all you had ever used to fight was an axe. It is heavy and takes strength to swing. An because it is heavy and takes strength to swing, it's hard to control. It is great when the target is big, and control and precision are not needed. Then, having been an axe-wielder your whole life, suppose someone handed you a scalpel. Since a scalpel is an instrument of precision and not strength, it would be very difficult for you to learn to use effectively. In fact, using strength with a scalpel is counter-productive. With strength, you could land an axe almost anywhere on your opponent and cause substantial damage, possibly even killing them with one blow. But that would be nearly impossible with a scalpel. You would have to hit very few and very small targets to achieve the same "one shot, one kill" effect as with the axe and the use of strength actually reduces your accuracy with a scalpel. Just ask any surgeon.
So how does all of this relate to "hard" and "soft" arts? Hard arts are an axe whose skills can be developed relatively quickly and can be used for self-defense when regard for the welfare of your opponent is of little consideration. Aikido, being a soft art, is a scalpel and is a better way to control a situation when the welfare of your opponent is a consideration. But, like a surgeon's training, it takes years to develop the proficiency in Aikido needed to accomplish this.
But here is the truly interesting difference between the hard and soft arts. Assuming the same the level of proficiency, practitioners of the soft arts can more easily go hard, if needed, than a practitioner of the hard arts can go soft. In my opinion, this is one of the truly beneficial aspects of soft art training. In aikido, we spend a considerable amount of time trying to undo our body's natural, hard reaction to violence. Though we may succeed to some level at this task, the hard reaction is always there and can be easily called upon if needed. The opposite is not the case.
Understand that no art is better than any other, in my opinion, and this essay is not saying such. All arts have their advantages and disadvantages. But the study of a soft art like Aikido, especially after the study of a harder, more aggressive art, can do nothing but enhance one's overall martial ability and should not be summarily dismissed.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Kansha
Each day of human life contains joy and anger, pain and pleasure, darkness and light, growth and decay. Each moment is etched with nature's grand design-do not try to deny or oppose the cosmic order of things
-Morihei Ueshiba, The Art of Peace
In November of last year, two weeks apart, both of my parents were diagnosed with cancer, mother with lung and my father with pancreatic. It was the first time in my life that I have truly been faced with the possibility of losing someone close to me. By today’s standards, both of my parents, being in their mid-sixties, still had 15 or 20 years left to live. Their illnesses have made that almost impossible.
When faced with such a tragedy, it is very easy to focus on the pain of such an event. It is very easy to focus on the loss. But focusing on the loss does nothing and only shows an ignorance for “…the cosmic order of things…” spoken of by Morihei Ueshiba and many other spiritual leaders.
Death is a natural occurrence. It will come, sooner or later, to all of us. Therefore, it is up to all of us to prepare for the moment when we face it. Additionally, our loved ones will also face death, sometime right in front of our eyes, a process that can be difficult to watch. To ease the difficulty, I practice kansha, Japanese for gratitude.
I do not focus on the death of my parents. Instead, I focus on their life. I focus on how much gratitude I have for their love, their kindness, their advice. I think back to when I was a child and how my father taught me to fish or how my mother taught me to swim. Or our Christmases in the mountains with the snow outside, the heat of the fire inside, and the whole family celebrating together. Or my mother's recipe for stuffing at Thanksgiving and how my father would carve the turkey.
I know that they will die soon, and I do not have much time left to spend with them. But even after they have gone, I will still have kansha that I have been able to spend almost 40 years learning from them and loving them.
Even in death, kansha will allow me to continue to do so.
-Morihei Ueshiba, The Art of Peace
In November of last year, two weeks apart, both of my parents were diagnosed with cancer, mother with lung and my father with pancreatic. It was the first time in my life that I have truly been faced with the possibility of losing someone close to me. By today’s standards, both of my parents, being in their mid-sixties, still had 15 or 20 years left to live. Their illnesses have made that almost impossible.
When faced with such a tragedy, it is very easy to focus on the pain of such an event. It is very easy to focus on the loss. But focusing on the loss does nothing and only shows an ignorance for “…the cosmic order of things…” spoken of by Morihei Ueshiba and many other spiritual leaders.
Death is a natural occurrence. It will come, sooner or later, to all of us. Therefore, it is up to all of us to prepare for the moment when we face it. Additionally, our loved ones will also face death, sometime right in front of our eyes, a process that can be difficult to watch. To ease the difficulty, I practice kansha, Japanese for gratitude.
I do not focus on the death of my parents. Instead, I focus on their life. I focus on how much gratitude I have for their love, their kindness, their advice. I think back to when I was a child and how my father taught me to fish or how my mother taught me to swim. Or our Christmases in the mountains with the snow outside, the heat of the fire inside, and the whole family celebrating together. Or my mother's recipe for stuffing at Thanksgiving and how my father would carve the turkey.
I know that they will die soon, and I do not have much time left to spend with them. But even after they have gone, I will still have kansha that I have been able to spend almost 40 years learning from them and loving them.
Even in death, kansha will allow me to continue to do so.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
True Freedom
It is in the understanding of ourselves that fear comes to an end. If the individual is to grapple with life from moment to moment, if he is to face its intricacies, its miseries and sudden demands, he must be infinitely pliable and, therefore, free of theories and particular patterns of thought.
Jiddu Krishnamurti, Education and the Significance of Life
Fear permeates the lives of almost all, if not all, people. It leads people to do things outside the bounds of their character. Its visceral pulse can drive people to the depths of human depravity or to the paralysis of unquestioned compliance. It is a powerful force that can destroy any sense of humanity we might feel towards others and towards ourselves. It is the most humbling of human emotions and can, if not recognized, rule a peron's life without the individual ever realizing it.
Jiddu Krishnamurti, the 20th century Indian humanistic philosopher and spiritual teacher, spoke of fear often, and in particular the facing and overcoming of fear, as a gateway to true freedom. Freedom from fear is the human condition sought by all, religious and spiritual adepts in particular. Belief in Jesus as the son of God, for example, claims freedom from eternal damnation. Belief in and practice of the Buddha's Four Noble Truths and the Eight Fold Noble Path claims the end of samsara, the eternal rebirth into a life of suffering. The practice of martyrdom through jihad bis saif, or struggle with the sword (Islamic holy war) claims divine acceptance and victory over the infidel.
But Krishnamurti believed that subservience to any doctrine, religious, spiritual or otherwise, in an effort to free one's self from the suffering of human existence or the possibility of an unbearable afterlife is nothing more than a form of self enslavement. In an effort to understand and overcome human suffering, people enslave themselves to religious ritual and dogma which ultimately binds themselves to a particular course of action. Krishnamurti thus demands an individual be "infinitely pliable" and "free of theories and particular patterns of thought" in order to be truly free.
With this thesis, Krishnamurti descends a slippery slope as he does not go on to describe an ethics commensurate with this stunning proclamation, leaving open the non-sensical, but quite easily drawn, conclusion that one's ethics could be "infinitely pliable", an invitation to a most obscene form of moral relativism.
Moral relativism is reckless, weak, and cowardly. Strength and courage lie in a reliance on and a judicious execution of what students of philosophy call "first principles". To use the commonly accepted definition, first principles are a set of basic, foundational propositions or assumptions that cannot be deduced from any other proposition or assumption. In other words, first principles require a certain amount of "faith". What differentiates faith in philosophical first principles from faith in religious first principles is their reliance on logical rigor, deductive in particular, vice emotional or metaphysical desire as is the case with religious first principles. Ethical and just first principles are necessary to guide right action, and, if action is taken, an assurance that just action is taken.
Freedom through the "understanding of ourselves" of which Krishnamurti speaks is a noble and achievable human endeavor, though it cannot be attained, as Krishnamurti argues, through "infinitely pliable" stances which are, by definition, categorically weak due to a lack of ethical authority. Freedom is only achieved through true and unfettered choice, and this choice can only be achieved through the unequivocal denial, and active fight against, any form of enslavement and its consequences.
To ground this particular thought in today's current political battle over the war in Iraq and the larger war with Islamic radicalism, first principles are an absolute necessity. The possibility of enslavement to an authority foreign to our western, democratic sensibilities exists. I ask that we as a country look hard and look deep for what it is we are willing to fight for without hesitation. A line must be drawn and enforced. Succumbing to a fear of outcomes shows a decadent lack of courage and opens the door to vacillation and hesitation revealing weakness and cowardice to our enemy. Courage ensures action without hesitation no matter what the situation or cost.
Only then can we attain true freedom.
Jiddu Krishnamurti, Education and the Significance of Life
Fear permeates the lives of almost all, if not all, people. It leads people to do things outside the bounds of their character. Its visceral pulse can drive people to the depths of human depravity or to the paralysis of unquestioned compliance. It is a powerful force that can destroy any sense of humanity we might feel towards others and towards ourselves. It is the most humbling of human emotions and can, if not recognized, rule a peron's life without the individual ever realizing it.
Jiddu Krishnamurti, the 20th century Indian humanistic philosopher and spiritual teacher, spoke of fear often, and in particular the facing and overcoming of fear, as a gateway to true freedom. Freedom from fear is the human condition sought by all, religious and spiritual adepts in particular. Belief in Jesus as the son of God, for example, claims freedom from eternal damnation. Belief in and practice of the Buddha's Four Noble Truths and the Eight Fold Noble Path claims the end of samsara, the eternal rebirth into a life of suffering. The practice of martyrdom through jihad bis saif, or struggle with the sword (Islamic holy war) claims divine acceptance and victory over the infidel.
But Krishnamurti believed that subservience to any doctrine, religious, spiritual or otherwise, in an effort to free one's self from the suffering of human existence or the possibility of an unbearable afterlife is nothing more than a form of self enslavement. In an effort to understand and overcome human suffering, people enslave themselves to religious ritual and dogma which ultimately binds themselves to a particular course of action. Krishnamurti thus demands an individual be "infinitely pliable" and "free of theories and particular patterns of thought" in order to be truly free.
With this thesis, Krishnamurti descends a slippery slope as he does not go on to describe an ethics commensurate with this stunning proclamation, leaving open the non-sensical, but quite easily drawn, conclusion that one's ethics could be "infinitely pliable", an invitation to a most obscene form of moral relativism.
Moral relativism is reckless, weak, and cowardly. Strength and courage lie in a reliance on and a judicious execution of what students of philosophy call "first principles". To use the commonly accepted definition, first principles are a set of basic, foundational propositions or assumptions that cannot be deduced from any other proposition or assumption. In other words, first principles require a certain amount of "faith". What differentiates faith in philosophical first principles from faith in religious first principles is their reliance on logical rigor, deductive in particular, vice emotional or metaphysical desire as is the case with religious first principles. Ethical and just first principles are necessary to guide right action, and, if action is taken, an assurance that just action is taken.
Freedom through the "understanding of ourselves" of which Krishnamurti speaks is a noble and achievable human endeavor, though it cannot be attained, as Krishnamurti argues, through "infinitely pliable" stances which are, by definition, categorically weak due to a lack of ethical authority. Freedom is only achieved through true and unfettered choice, and this choice can only be achieved through the unequivocal denial, and active fight against, any form of enslavement and its consequences.
To ground this particular thought in today's current political battle over the war in Iraq and the larger war with Islamic radicalism, first principles are an absolute necessity. The possibility of enslavement to an authority foreign to our western, democratic sensibilities exists. I ask that we as a country look hard and look deep for what it is we are willing to fight for without hesitation. A line must be drawn and enforced. Succumbing to a fear of outcomes shows a decadent lack of courage and opens the door to vacillation and hesitation revealing weakness and cowardice to our enemy. Courage ensures action without hesitation no matter what the situation or cost.
Only then can we attain true freedom.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Haiku
-----------------------------
Fog masks the city.
I walk along Sutton Street.
I have no rain coat.
-----------------------------
Distant rumbling.
The summer's first thunder storm.
I am just a boy.
-----------------------------
Fog masks the city.
I walk along Sutton Street.
I have no rain coat.
-----------------------------
Distant rumbling.
The summer's first thunder storm.
I am just a boy.
-----------------------------
On Renewing Commitment
"When force of circumstance upsets your equanimity, lose no time in recovering your self-control, and do not remain out of tune longer than you can help. Habitual recurrence to harmony will increase your mastery of it."
-Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
I have never been one who tends toward the "mastery of harmony", especially harmony of the spiritual type spoken of here by the Stoic philosopher and Roman emperor, Marcus Aurelius.
The spiritual path for me is truly like "a razor's edge" (to use a reference from the Katha-Upanishad), narrow, difficult, and painful to walk. This is even more true when I try to follow the spiritual path amongst the infinite diversions offered by modern everyday existence vice, say, the exquisite beauty, spartan environs, and ritualized existence associated with life in a Himalayan monastery. Life down here amongst the ugly and coarse certainly does not aid in understanding one's true nature unless one is armed with the years of spiritual training required to be able to see through this vulgar exterior without becoming jaded by it.
Because this path is difficult, it is easy to slip off it into the labyrinth of sensual diversion. Modern, western humanity is after all, like water: highly susceptible to the path of least resistance. Our progress has made us lazy. Sure, many of us are working longer hours, but for what? Money? A mortgage? A promotion (ie. more money)? Status? It is easy to put in 12-16 hours of work a day. What is not easy is binding oneself to a disciplined life, to control one's emotions and appetites, and to live with character and integrity.
I have neglected my martial arts practice for the past 6 weeks or so. I was recently (in Feb) diagnosed with Crohn's disease. Certainly not a life threatening condition, more of a nuisance than anything, but it has effected my self-discipline. Side effects of the disease that seem to effect me are extreme fatigue, arthritis, and abdominal pain. After a full 10-12 hour day at work, it becomes difficult to muster the energy to practice thus placing the stress of guilt on my mind for not attending. According to the professionals, undue stress will worsen my Crohn's, something I have found to be true in my case. Work is necessary. Practice is not. Therefore, practice must go. Or so the rationalization goes.
But I have found that without my martial practice, which for me cultivates a disciplined existence, life dissolves into a meaningless daily plod. Without the self-discipline acquired through martial practice, I search out other, less beneficial and often empty, ways to spend my time: watching movies, reading books or magazines, aimlessly surfing the internet, etc. Some of this is certainly worthwhile (reading Clausewitz most recently, for example), but for me, spiritual progress through a disciplined existence is hindered without rigorous daily martial practice. In other words, I need a constant reminder of the benefits of self-discipline, of walking the razors edge. As I said before, my personality (read "ego" here) is just not predisposed to a disciplined path by martial or any other means. It's predisposed to things more along the lines of drinking fine scotch whiskey, sometimes to excess, in the upscale establishments of Edinburgh, Cape Town, or Dubai, for example. It is very difficult for me to maintain self-discipline in spiritual matters, and I need a tangible measure of progress in order to push myself along. Using a martial art as a spiritual tool has helped me see that progression and the benefits that come with it, therefore driving me along this narrow path. Without it, I lose the drive and the discipline to continue. Sad but true.
I find some solace in that we who walk this disciplined spiritual path will always deviate from it. Alas, we are human and this act of deviation is a natural part of any spiritual progression. One learns about oneself and about life provided one does not stray beyond the point of no return. The real test of character is not one's conduct after straying from this path, though this certainly matters, but whether or not one recognizes their own act of straying and, if so, choses to return to the path.
Renewing commitment to a disciplined life is an essential element of growth in a life-long and committed martial or spiritual practice. Actions upon renewal can reveal the depth or shallowness of one's practice up to that point in time. A fresh look from a different perspective can often times reveal a facet of character or congruence of reality not seen before. These determinations, if heeded, can point the practitioner in a new direction aiding future growth and bring them closer to that ever elusive mastery of which Marcus Aurelius speaks.
-Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
I have never been one who tends toward the "mastery of harmony", especially harmony of the spiritual type spoken of here by the Stoic philosopher and Roman emperor, Marcus Aurelius.
The spiritual path for me is truly like "a razor's edge" (to use a reference from the Katha-Upanishad), narrow, difficult, and painful to walk. This is even more true when I try to follow the spiritual path amongst the infinite diversions offered by modern everyday existence vice, say, the exquisite beauty, spartan environs, and ritualized existence associated with life in a Himalayan monastery. Life down here amongst the ugly and coarse certainly does not aid in understanding one's true nature unless one is armed with the years of spiritual training required to be able to see through this vulgar exterior without becoming jaded by it.
Because this path is difficult, it is easy to slip off it into the labyrinth of sensual diversion. Modern, western humanity is after all, like water: highly susceptible to the path of least resistance. Our progress has made us lazy. Sure, many of us are working longer hours, but for what? Money? A mortgage? A promotion (ie. more money)? Status? It is easy to put in 12-16 hours of work a day. What is not easy is binding oneself to a disciplined life, to control one's emotions and appetites, and to live with character and integrity.
I have neglected my martial arts practice for the past 6 weeks or so. I was recently (in Feb) diagnosed with Crohn's disease. Certainly not a life threatening condition, more of a nuisance than anything, but it has effected my self-discipline. Side effects of the disease that seem to effect me are extreme fatigue, arthritis, and abdominal pain. After a full 10-12 hour day at work, it becomes difficult to muster the energy to practice thus placing the stress of guilt on my mind for not attending. According to the professionals, undue stress will worsen my Crohn's, something I have found to be true in my case. Work is necessary. Practice is not. Therefore, practice must go. Or so the rationalization goes.
But I have found that without my martial practice, which for me cultivates a disciplined existence, life dissolves into a meaningless daily plod. Without the self-discipline acquired through martial practice, I search out other, less beneficial and often empty, ways to spend my time: watching movies, reading books or magazines, aimlessly surfing the internet, etc. Some of this is certainly worthwhile (reading Clausewitz most recently, for example), but for me, spiritual progress through a disciplined existence is hindered without rigorous daily martial practice. In other words, I need a constant reminder of the benefits of self-discipline, of walking the razors edge. As I said before, my personality (read "ego" here) is just not predisposed to a disciplined path by martial or any other means. It's predisposed to things more along the lines of drinking fine scotch whiskey, sometimes to excess, in the upscale establishments of Edinburgh, Cape Town, or Dubai, for example. It is very difficult for me to maintain self-discipline in spiritual matters, and I need a tangible measure of progress in order to push myself along. Using a martial art as a spiritual tool has helped me see that progression and the benefits that come with it, therefore driving me along this narrow path. Without it, I lose the drive and the discipline to continue. Sad but true.
I find some solace in that we who walk this disciplined spiritual path will always deviate from it. Alas, we are human and this act of deviation is a natural part of any spiritual progression. One learns about oneself and about life provided one does not stray beyond the point of no return. The real test of character is not one's conduct after straying from this path, though this certainly matters, but whether or not one recognizes their own act of straying and, if so, choses to return to the path.
Renewing commitment to a disciplined life is an essential element of growth in a life-long and committed martial or spiritual practice. Actions upon renewal can reveal the depth or shallowness of one's practice up to that point in time. A fresh look from a different perspective can often times reveal a facet of character or congruence of reality not seen before. These determinations, if heeded, can point the practitioner in a new direction aiding future growth and bring them closer to that ever elusive mastery of which Marcus Aurelius speaks.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
No Quarter
Philanthropists may easily imagine there is a skillful method of disarming and overcoming an enemy without causing great bloodshed, and that this is the proper tendency of the art of war. However plausible this may appear, still it is an error which must be extirpated; for in such dangerous things as war, the errors which proceed from benevolence are the worst.
-Carl von Clausewitz, On War
I have been reading Clausewitz lately with renewed vigor, though placing "Clausewitz" and "vigor" in the same sentence smacks of incongruency, I know. Part of my fascination with the Prussian does not lie in the substance of his theories, though they certainly have their merits as time has proven, but in his analytical, almost mathematical, rigor with which he approaches the subject. I find his ability to so acutely analyze the theory and nature of war, a topic that, in my opinion, does not lend itself well to acute, non-emotional analysis, fascinating. He covers all the counter arguments and summarily dismisses the opinion of the combat illiterate through the sheer density of the analysis. Like Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, the uninitiated are not invited to the table, not due to some intellectual haughtiness, but due to unfamiliarity with the complex topic under discussion.
In other words, you had better bring a lot to the table if you are going to tackle this military magnum opus.
And here I get to my point.
War's inevitability demands its study, not just by the professionals tasked with our defense, but also by non-military members of the republic those professionals are protecting. After all, it is the individual citizen's judgment (or lack thereof in some cases), which determines the leadership of our republic. Additionally, it is the will of the republic writ large that will ultimately determine success or failure in times of war. Dwindling public support for an act of war is more likely if the process of and reason for that war is not understood. Counterinsurgency operations are a prime example. A substantial investment in time and resources is necessary for a successful counterinsurgency campaign. Western, and particularly American, culture no longer tolerates this fact. But that does not negate the veracity of it. A fact is a fact. One chooses to ignore facts at their own peril.
At this point in history, the West has a peculiar sense of superiority. We feel we are enlightened. That the ugly side of humanity is beneath us and behind us. We, through our utmost industry, civility, and intelligence, can design a social system under which war will no longer exist. A system where global peace will bathe the world in the soft light of brotherly love. A system amenable to all, based on the universal human desire of freedom. A global enlightenment is just around the corner if we can just set the conditions for its manifestation.
The depth and breadth of this intellectual dishonesty is astonishing and, quite frankly, frightening. To ignore history is to repeat it. War is an unfortunate and horrific fact of life. If it can be avoided through a mutually beneficial settlement between opponents, it should be. But do not close your eyes and try to wish it away through some aggrandized idealistic vision of how the world should be. The world is what it is. War is a part of it, therefore preparation for it and, at times, execution of it is essential. Once war becomes manifest, it is time to put away childish idealism and engage without hesitation in cold realism. To not do so shows unforgivable cowardice and outright stupidity.
In London, Islamic radicalism has shown, once again, that it is bent on the destruction of the world as we know it. We must now put away childish idealism. Compromise will solve nothing when faced with the fanatical. No quarter should be offered. You cannot reason with the unreasonable. To think you can exhibits that fatally flawed combination of arrogance and benevolence of which Clausewitz speaks.
And that is cold realism.
-Carl von Clausewitz, On War
I have been reading Clausewitz lately with renewed vigor, though placing "Clausewitz" and "vigor" in the same sentence smacks of incongruency, I know. Part of my fascination with the Prussian does not lie in the substance of his theories, though they certainly have their merits as time has proven, but in his analytical, almost mathematical, rigor with which he approaches the subject. I find his ability to so acutely analyze the theory and nature of war, a topic that, in my opinion, does not lend itself well to acute, non-emotional analysis, fascinating. He covers all the counter arguments and summarily dismisses the opinion of the combat illiterate through the sheer density of the analysis. Like Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, the uninitiated are not invited to the table, not due to some intellectual haughtiness, but due to unfamiliarity with the complex topic under discussion.
In other words, you had better bring a lot to the table if you are going to tackle this military magnum opus.
And here I get to my point.
War's inevitability demands its study, not just by the professionals tasked with our defense, but also by non-military members of the republic those professionals are protecting. After all, it is the individual citizen's judgment (or lack thereof in some cases), which determines the leadership of our republic. Additionally, it is the will of the republic writ large that will ultimately determine success or failure in times of war. Dwindling public support for an act of war is more likely if the process of and reason for that war is not understood. Counterinsurgency operations are a prime example. A substantial investment in time and resources is necessary for a successful counterinsurgency campaign. Western, and particularly American, culture no longer tolerates this fact. But that does not negate the veracity of it. A fact is a fact. One chooses to ignore facts at their own peril.
At this point in history, the West has a peculiar sense of superiority. We feel we are enlightened. That the ugly side of humanity is beneath us and behind us. We, through our utmost industry, civility, and intelligence, can design a social system under which war will no longer exist. A system where global peace will bathe the world in the soft light of brotherly love. A system amenable to all, based on the universal human desire of freedom. A global enlightenment is just around the corner if we can just set the conditions for its manifestation.
The depth and breadth of this intellectual dishonesty is astonishing and, quite frankly, frightening. To ignore history is to repeat it. War is an unfortunate and horrific fact of life. If it can be avoided through a mutually beneficial settlement between opponents, it should be. But do not close your eyes and try to wish it away through some aggrandized idealistic vision of how the world should be. The world is what it is. War is a part of it, therefore preparation for it and, at times, execution of it is essential. Once war becomes manifest, it is time to put away childish idealism and engage without hesitation in cold realism. To not do so shows unforgivable cowardice and outright stupidity.
In London, Islamic radicalism has shown, once again, that it is bent on the destruction of the world as we know it. We must now put away childish idealism. Compromise will solve nothing when faced with the fanatical. No quarter should be offered. You cannot reason with the unreasonable. To think you can exhibits that fatally flawed combination of arrogance and benevolence of which Clausewitz speaks.
And that is cold realism.
Monday, April 30, 2007
The Elimination of Suffering
Budo is a philosophy for living life. It is the practice of purposely facing life's suffering in order to overcome it. Suffering permeates life, and suffering for many people is very difficult to overcome. Just look at the growing rates of alcoholism, drug addiction and abuse, eating disorders, and any other unhealthy compulsion created by the stresses and emptiness of modern existence. The purpose of budo is to find meaning in one's suffering. This meaning gives the suffering purpose. With purpose, suffering becomes tolerable, even joyous, when it is overcome.
Through rigorous martial training, ones faces fear, weakness, pain, and numerous other forms of weakness and suffering in one's self. One learns to accept, and in many ways seek out, this suffering. Without it, progress does not occur. The greater the suffering one can endure and overcome, the greater the progress towards the elimination of suffering. Enduring and overcoming suffering through martial practice builds not just practical martial skills but also a quiet personal confidence. With the confidence that comes through the cultivation of martial skill, life's more mundane sufferings (ie. traffic laden commutes, long lines at the grocery store, a car that will not start, etc.) become less of a physical and spiritual burden and more of a reason to laugh at one's self and at others' rather absurd over-reaction to such trivialities.
With diligent and consistent practice, this confidence manifests itself in what martial artists from the Japanese tradition call "mushin", or "empty mind". This is the ability to keep a calm, clear mind when the body is under duress. Through mushin, suffering becomes inconsequential. There is no ego, there is no fear, to cause suffering and the martial artist is able to act without hesitation to whatever attack he may be faced with without thought as to his possible injury or death, thoughts that, if followed and/or believed, will result in suffering. A goal of the martial artist is to be able to enter mushin at will and, thus, eliminate the causes of suffering at will. This can only be attained with years of diligent and hard training, if it is ever attained.
More concretely, I practice aikido, and other martial arts, to be a better all around warfighter both technically, tactically, and morally and to cultivate my own sense of budo physically and spiritually. I believe that hard, realistic, and diligent training is necessary for this purpose. Hard, realistic training allows one to face suffering in a controlled setting and develop and test strategies for overcoming it. Continued training forges successful elements of these strategies into habits. Cultivating these successful habits helps one grow as a martial artist and as a human being and ultimately helps give suffering meaning. Once suffering has meaning, it ceases to be suffering. It inhabits its meaning, and, thus, suffering is eliminated.
Through rigorous martial training, ones faces fear, weakness, pain, and numerous other forms of weakness and suffering in one's self. One learns to accept, and in many ways seek out, this suffering. Without it, progress does not occur. The greater the suffering one can endure and overcome, the greater the progress towards the elimination of suffering. Enduring and overcoming suffering through martial practice builds not just practical martial skills but also a quiet personal confidence. With the confidence that comes through the cultivation of martial skill, life's more mundane sufferings (ie. traffic laden commutes, long lines at the grocery store, a car that will not start, etc.) become less of a physical and spiritual burden and more of a reason to laugh at one's self and at others' rather absurd over-reaction to such trivialities.
With diligent and consistent practice, this confidence manifests itself in what martial artists from the Japanese tradition call "mushin", or "empty mind". This is the ability to keep a calm, clear mind when the body is under duress. Through mushin, suffering becomes inconsequential. There is no ego, there is no fear, to cause suffering and the martial artist is able to act without hesitation to whatever attack he may be faced with without thought as to his possible injury or death, thoughts that, if followed and/or believed, will result in suffering. A goal of the martial artist is to be able to enter mushin at will and, thus, eliminate the causes of suffering at will. This can only be attained with years of diligent and hard training, if it is ever attained.
More concretely, I practice aikido, and other martial arts, to be a better all around warfighter both technically, tactically, and morally and to cultivate my own sense of budo physically and spiritually. I believe that hard, realistic, and diligent training is necessary for this purpose. Hard, realistic training allows one to face suffering in a controlled setting and develop and test strategies for overcoming it. Continued training forges successful elements of these strategies into habits. Cultivating these successful habits helps one grow as a martial artist and as a human being and ultimately helps give suffering meaning. Once suffering has meaning, it ceases to be suffering. It inhabits its meaning, and, thus, suffering is eliminated.
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