Kano Society

The Kano Society

 
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Vol 2  Issue 2                     part 2

Too Little Too Much—Part three- Trevor Leggett 1997

In the last two articles I have tried to explain how Dr. Jigoro Kano’s London lecture on Right Action affected me, a youngster of 16. He explained that from judo we could learn how to use just the right amount of force, not too much and not too little. As I have explained, it took me years to understand fully what he meant. At first it seemed obvious; there was nothing more to understand. But I was impressed by his wonderful old Japanese, and I felt inwardly that he would not simply state obvious things —there must be some deeper meaning.

I gradually came to see that he was speaking not just of judo waza, but of the whole attitude to life. I began to see that most of us are either Too Much men, who do everything unnecessarily strongly, or Too Little men, who cautiously test each step before taking it.(The English proverb for such Too Little men is: They look at a penny for an hour before they spend even a half-penny.)

The question is: how are we to correct our habitual attitude of Too Much or Too Little? First of all, we have to recognize which type we are. It is easier for the Too Little men to recognize themselves, because their attempts just fail. If we make the correct judo movements for a throw, at the right opportunity, but the throw fails, it means that we have used Too Little energy in the throwing action. It is perfectly clear that we must use more. If in an argument others cannot hear what I say because I spoke too softly, then too I just fail, and it is clear what I must do. But the Too Much men often succeed in forcing the result. The fault of Too Much does not appear at once. It is only later that they find they are not making good progress in judo. When they come against a good technique, they lose badly. The habitual shouters win arguments at the beginning but create resentment all around them, and in the end are out-manoeuvered. In Kano’s classical slogan: Ju ju Sai Sai Go o sei-su The Gentle indeed will control the Hard.

So it is clear to the Too Little man that he must change. If we take judo as the example, we see that if he keeps practising, he will change naturally into a Right Action man, because the very practice of judo will be changing his physical condition and co-ordination. He has to have strong character to persist with his judo in spite of continuous failure after failure. In one sense, it is harder for a Too Much man to change, because he is sometimes successful. The thoughts are sure to come: ‘Why should I change? I have won’. Historians of war tell us that in the same way the winners of a war do not search for new weapons and strategies. It is the losers who look for something new: they lost. For instance, the Zulus in their years of triumph used to decide a battle with a final grand charge; even when they had acquired guns, they still make the grand charge, though it is quite contrary to the nature of the weapon. So they were defeated. The first problem for the Too Much man is to recognize that he uses too much force, and in a wrong way. When he has realized it, what can he do? Well, the characteristic sign of most Too Much men is that they are angry men. They express anger by using needless force; they feel they must conquer. The true answer is to love things and people for their own sake, not as objects on which to vent one’s bad temper. It may take time to reach this level, and in the meantime it is not easy to overcome anger, but I heard of an effective way. A young able businessman was hampered in his career by sudden outbursts of fury when contradicted in the presence of other people, or at meetings. He asked a friend, experienced in meditation, for advice, but added: ‘I know you’re going to tell me to count backwards from nineteen before I reply. When I get angry, I forget all that sort of thing. I see a red mist before my eyes, and I can’t control myself. Isn’t there something a bit stronger?’ The friend looked at him, smartly dressed and very careful about his appearance. He said: ‘Yes, perhaps there is, for someone like you. But you have to be ready for a little shock. Buy a little mirror, one that you could hold in the palm of your hand. Keep it in your pocket. When you begin to see that red mist coming up, take out the mirror get up and go to the window, or leave the room for a few moments if you can and hold it in your palm and look it’.

The businessman did this next time he was contradicted. He sat and looked at the mirror, concealed in his half-closed hand where no one else could see it. He saw a face contorted with rage, lips swollen, eyes with bright red blood vessels. The shock of seeing his own ugliness was like a shower of icy water. He never again lost his temper in public. When I heard this, I was reminded of something in my own life. When I was young, I often made biting criticisms of others mostly as some story about them and was not above inventing a few details to give the story an extra twist. I knew it was wrong but did not think it did any real harm, I found it amusing, as did a few of my friends who did the same. One day three of us happened to be talking to an Indian teacher, for whom I had considerable respect. To my surprise the teacher suddenly began telling a rather spiteful story about someone known to all of us. As he went on, we realized that what he was saying could not possibly be true. His usually placid face had taken on a venomous look as he spoke. I was disappointed in him, and thought, ‘Why, he’s just like the rest of us, he does it too!’ Finally he said something outrageous and one of us said: ‘Oh no, we all know that couldn’t be true’.

The teacher’s flow of words stopped as if a tap had been turned off. We looked at each other without saying, and went our separate ways. I noticed that the others were now very careful when talking about other people and I found that I did not find it so amusing to make bitter remarks. We never mentioned that we saw our own fault mirrored in the teacher’s face and speech and did not like what we had seen.

Even when we realize what is wrong,

it takes strength of character to begin to change. We have to get rid of our excuses. The Too Much man says: ‘At any rate, I get someting done. I have faith: I don’t have doubts. Maybe I make some mistakes, but there is no progress if we are always afraid of making mistakes’. The Too Little man says ‘At any rate I do not make mistakes. I am scientific: science deals in probabilities; there are few certainties in science. It is hard to judge new ideas, but experience shows that 99% of new ideas are wrong. So if I reject all new ideas, my judgement be 99% correct. That is a very good figure’.

The goal is to give up fixed attitudes and meet each occasion with a gentle, adaptive attitude not fixed in Too Much or Too Little. I came to believe that the various fixed attitudes are what Dr. Kano meant by Hard or Go: his maxim for us was Ju ju Sai Sai Go o Sei-su —The Gentle indeed can control the Hard. He called it an all-pervading principle.

Weakness and Strength

Sometimes your biggest weakness can become your biggest strength. Take, for example, the story of one 10-year-old boy who decided to study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a devastating car accident.
The boy began lessons with an old Japanese judo master. The boy was doing well, so he couldn't understand why, after three months of training the master had taught him only one move.
"Sensei," the boy finally said, "shouldn't I be learning more moves?"
"This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you'll ever need to know," the Sensei replied.
Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept training. Several months later, the Sensei took the boy to his first tournament. Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to win the match. Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the finals. This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced. For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched. Concerned that the boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop the match when the Sensei intervened.
"No," the Sensei insisted, "let him continue."
Soon after the match resumed, his opponent made a critical mistake: he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion. On the way home, the boy and Sensei reviewed every move in each and every match. Then the boy summoned the courage to ask the one question that was really on his mind.

"Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?"

"You won for two reasons," the Sensei answered. "First, you've almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second, the only known

defence for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm."
The boy's biggest weakness had become his biggest strength.

“ ... The Boy’s biggest weakness had become his biggest strength ”

Judo’s Foundations –applied to Olympic education and fair play -

Emerson Franchini - University of São Paulo

Combat sport is considered to be one of the oldest forms of sport. There is abundant archaeological evidence displaying these sports in antiquity. Evidence for this is present in several places around the world, such as the Tomb of the Vizier Ptah-hotep (2300 bc), which displays six pairs of boys wrestling together, and the representation of tournaments performed in 1300 bc both in Egypt

The reports of Oriental martial arts are very ancient and related to legends, making it difficult to verify its veracity. In the Ancient Olympic Games, combat sports were also represented (boxing, pankration, wrestling and part of the pentathlon) and achieved great success. The great admiration and practice of combat sport in different nations certainly had a warlike utilitary character, especially in Ancient times, when Athenians and Spartans, as well as several working classes in Japan and China, had to learn to fight as part of their education. These aspects suggest the universal character of combat sport. Nevertheless, when fight techniques are part of the cultural patrimony of different nations it also becomes part of the sport and education process. In the Sydney Olympic Games, the following combat sport sports were performed: boxing, judo, wrestling (greco-roman and freestyle) and taekwondo. The importance and popularity of combat sports are proven by the number of sports that were part of these Games.

.In Tokyo, 1964, judo debuted as a demonstration sport and was the first Oriental combat sport to be included in the Olympic program. It became a full sport in Munchen, 1972. Judo was also the first combat sport to be performed by women in the history of the Olympic Games when it appeared as a demonstration sport in Seoul, 1988, and as a full Olympic sport in Barcelona, 1992. Furthermore, judo is the only Japanese sport to be practiced worldwide. But it is in relation to its educational aspect that judo (“the gentle way”) as proposed by its founder Jigoro Kano contains its sustentation basis. Thus, the purpose of this paper is to analyze the potential contribution of judo to Olympic Education and consequently to the development of fair play, reviewing the educational method proposed by Jigoro Kano. Judo, although derived from a “war art” (jiu-jitsu) and nowadays recognized as a top level sport carries in its essence and in its principles aspects related to education, which can contribute to the diffusion of Coubertin’s Olympic ideals.

Judo as proposed by Professor Jigoro Kano can be defined as an overcoming of oneself rather than the overcoming of an opponent since it is based in the principles of the “best use of one’s energy/maximum efficiency” (seiryoku-zenyo) and “mutual welfare and benefits” (jita-kyoei).

A symmetry between those Kano's conceptions and Coubertin's eurhythmy is then a focus to be better explored in view of mutual adaptation. If Olympism advocacy accepts seiryoku-zenyo and jita-kyoei because of similarities with eurhythmy, the gap between the two can be overcome. Thus, the search for the overcoming of our own limits is likely associated with the balanced whole of the body, will and mind in addition to the intrinsic motivation of participation in sport. The educational sense of judo is finally outlined in its essences which is similar to the educational standpoints found in Olympism according to Coubertin's eurhythmy.

In conclusion, education for both judo and Olympism is a matter of an integral vision of its components, including fair play and other ethical proposals. Not surprisingly, a currently conception of fair play is related to the intrinsic nature of sport practice and “as respect for the game is applicable at all levels of sport and readily lends itself to adaptation and implementation in education programs”(Butcher & Schneider, 1998, p. 19).

Thus, the practice of judo directed to education can reach a large number of people and contribute to the diffusion of Olympic and Judo principles.

A Butterfly

A man found a cocoon for a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared, he sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through the little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had got as far as it could and could go no farther. The man decided to help the butterfly.

He took a pair of scissors and snipped the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily. Something was strange. The butterfly had a swollen body and shrivelled wings. The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and deformed wings. It was never able to fly.

The man in his kindness and haste did not understand that the restricting cocoon and struggle needed for the butterfly to get through the small opening of the cocoon are nature’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it is ready for flight once it achieved freedom.

Sometimes struggles are needed in life. If we go through all our life without any obstacles that would cripple us we would not be as strong as we could have been. Not only that, we could never fly.

"... Sometimes struggles are what we need in life ”

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