Interview with Takafumi Takeno (2)

Aikido Journal: Sensei, you assisted Kyoichi Inoue Sensei when he taught at the police academy, didn’t you?

Takafumi Takeno: Yes, I studied primarily with Shioda Sensei, but he let me participate in a number of other activities. In 1978, I was dispatched to teach aikido at the Metropolitan Police Department, where classes had been offered for fifteen years prior to my arrival.

I conducted kyu and dan exams for female police officers and the security police specialists at the police academy. Additionally, I taught each of the riot police squads on a rotational basis. For the most part, however, I spent my time at the Yoshinkan Headquarters, and was in charge of teaching selected members from each of the riot police squads.

What sorts of questions did the students at the police academy ask you regarding the handling of dangerous situations?

It’s difficult to generalize, but they asked about things such as how to handle knife attacks, for example, or what to do if the tie of your uniform is grabbed. They asked about real situations that had come up or might come up in their work. You might call it “combat aiki.”

Also, they wanted to know how to handle criminals unobtrusively and efficiently. Avoiding the use of unnecessary throws and strikes was an important consideration for them as law enforcement officers, since they were concerned about the possibility of their actions being viewed as excessive use of force. Even justifiable self-defense measures might be labeled “police brutality” if the officer happened to employ a strike.

Just before graduation, specialists at the Yoshinkan HQ are tested on applying their skills in handling actual attacks. For example, they have to respond to someone who attempts to take their pistol. We test their ability to deal with that sort of real life situation. We incorporate into the training elements that may be useful in some way when making actual arrests.

Do you teach atemi to the police?

Yes, but I tell them not to make actual contact. They can use an atemi as a distraction or a check, so I think it unnecessary for them to strike forcefully. Therefore, we work on developing light, fast atemi, especially to the face. Atemi do not necessarily require a tightly clenched fist, you see. I think they can be done more quickly when you’re relaxed. Done lightly, atemi give you the opportunity to handle an opponent more freely. I’m particular about doing atemi properly, so I always make a point to execute them quickly and with good form. If my partner doesn’t avoid my atemi, I go ahead and do it anyway. That way they know if their evasion is effective or not It’s the same when striking. I always say to strike vigorously, rather than half-heartedly. If the way you avoid the attack is flawed then you’ll be struck.

In other words, “Know the strength of your opponent.” Knowing your partner, I think, is linked to knowing yourself.

At my dojo, I set aside time for people to test the effectiveness of their techniques, as well as their limitations and resistance as the recipient of techniques. During such practice I tell the students not to move if their balance is not being broken, not to take falls if a lock is not well applied, and not to submit unless a technique is being done effectively.

I don’t think many dojos do that sort of training.

We’re able to do it because everyone attends regularly. It would be impossible if people came only once a week or so.

I continually urge my students to understand their own power. I tell them that if their evasive technique is half-hearted they won’t be able to shift their bodies. Even during regular training I tell my students to move forward whole-heartedly no matter what sort of attacker comes at them. Actually, I tell them not to evade but rather to enter.

Attempting to grab at an opponent will almost certainly end in defeat, I think. It seems more advanced instead to “welcome” the opponent to attack, inviting them to come at you any time. It’s the difference between facing an attacker and thinking calmly, “You are welcome to attack anytime,” and thinking, “I wonder how they’re going to attack…” The latter is very passive, and you have already been defeated by your own mental attitude. In that sense, even when practicing forms slowly you have to be one step ahead of your attacker, or you won’t be able to move your body enough Shioda Sensei enters with an extremely vigorous irimi technique I’ve taken ukemi for him often and I feel strongly that rather than simply parrying and eluding he is actually moving forward.

Therefore, even when evading, you should do so by moving forward. During practice, try not to remain in the same place. I have a feeling that this sort of movement, in addition to being faster, also develops better technique. Even during so-called kata, or form practice, rather than filling your mind with thoughts about the sequence of the movements, it’s better to just enter and do the technique. In other words, only techniques that are instantly effective can be considered true techniques. Techniques done while thinking, “OK, next I’m going to do such-and-such…” cannot be called techniques.

From the perspective of other martial arts, aikido techniques are often believed to be ineffective in actual combat situations.

Perhaps training should be divided into different courses. In a course emphasizing aikido as a martial art, the goal is to train specialists. Accordingly, training is oriented toward developing vigor and technique. If the goal is enjoyment or health, then training should be designed to meet those needs. Mixing the two is likely to cause problems. If only one in ten practitioners intends to become a professional then the other nine people may lose out.

We practice budo aiki (martial arts aiki) as taught to us by Shioda Sensei. A look at Shioda Sensei’s techniques, which are extremely sharp, will illustrate what I mean.

Many people express surprise that such aikido exists and want to know more about this budo aiki. So, I don’t think aikido is in any way inferior to other martial arts. In fact, I think it’s something to take pride in.

The teacher, however, needs to modify the training method according to the type of training sought by each student. The martial feeling of aikido will diminish if everyone has to practice in the same way, while on the other hand, general practitioners may not accept training in which the martial aspects are over-emphasized. Teachers have to respond to these various aims and offer what they have accordingly. Of course, this requires a broad knowledge on the part of the teacher.

People inclined to the martial aspects of aikido obviously should adopt a more martial approach. Naturally, professionals need to pursue this kind of training. Of course, favoring that sort of training exclusively may lead to the loss of the original nature of aiki, so it’s a sensitive issue.

I’ve felt that one of the most problematic areas in aikido training is that proper ways of attacking are not understood. What would I do if attacked by someone stronger than I? What if my family were attacked and it was up to me to protect them? It seems essential to have studied and learned how to attack.

I know the techniques I’ve taught to the riot police have proven quite effective against attacks because I’ve heard their stories about using aikido in real situations. For example, a guard at the Prime Minister’s residence who had trained in aikido subdued a man who entered the premises wielding a kitchen knife.

When I teach the riot police, there are sometimes rookies who say, “Aikido? Oh, that’s what they teach the women police officers…” But the more experienced members know how powerful aikido can be and what it can do, so they push the newcomers forward saying, “Go on up to the front and try it!”

As you mentioned, they are unsure about how to handle actual attacks, so I ask them what sorts of situations they have been in and teach them accordingly.

I’m sure they all want to know those sorts of things.

If someone attacks you strongly you might fell them with a kick or a judo throw, but such severe methods are not the best since they may cause unnecessary injury. I teach the police how to use various techniques as alternatives in handling such cases.

At how many dojos do you presently teach?

Besides this dojo I teach at dojos in Hikawa and Shirane. I also teach at Kyoto Buddhist University and Yamanashi Medical University. The aikido club at Yamanashi Medical University was officially recognized just this year. One of the students had come to watch a class and I suggested that he give it a try. My policy is to let people experience the training before they are required to enroll officially, so they are free to try a class if they wish. During practice, the fellow was turned on his ear by one of the women in the dojo. Surprised, he asked me how he had been thrown so easily, so I explained to him about aikido. No matter how many times he tried he was thrown. “It’s too simple!” he kept exclaiming. She kept him immobilized simply by gripping his hand lightly, then added some power to the technique and threw him easily. Later, he brought some of his friends, who also skeptically gave it a try. They were fascinated and asked if I would teach them, and after that they started coming to practice. I told them since they had so many interested people that they would have my support if they wanted to form an informal club at their university. They took to the idea and that was the start of the club. After about three years they were officially recognized as the Aikido Club.

What about training exchanges with other universities?

I think training exchanges are important and I urge the university students to attend them whenever they have the chance. Recently there was talk of a training exchange at a certain university in Chiba Prefecture, and the current members were enthusiastic about it, but the “old boys,” or alumnae, of the club didn’t like the idea, so nothing came of it.

There are many such training exchanges abroad, which I think are very stimulating and a good idea. To change the topic, could you tell us about your experiences as an live-in student at the Yoshinkan Headquarters?

Instruction at the Yoshinkan back then was extremely broad and general, so it was impossible to understand through words alone. You learned by repeating things over and over again with your body. These days logical training methods have been established, so it’s fairly easy even for beginners to train.

When I was an uchideshi, first you learned the mechanics of the technique and then developed a smooth movement. You practiced one thing until you knew it inside and out. For about three months after I enrolled in the dojo all I was taught was a basic shihonage. Shihonage every day! All day long I practiced stances and that one basic movement. That’s how training was back then. You forged your body with those basic forms until your body remembered them.

People nowadays certainly have good form, but I think they should have a second look at the process involved. Form exists to act as a stepping stone to the next level as a result of the process that created it. There is nothing in the training that is not essential. During practice I urge people never to say that something is a waste of time. Take the issue of using power in techniques, for example. People who have never tried to put physical power into a technique won’t understand what it means to let go of the power. I let people try to use power as much as they please so they can discover for themselves that it doesn’t have the desired effect, and they realize it without being told. Students gradually recognize the futility of trying to muscle their way through techniques and consequently begin to understand techniques from slightly different perspectives.

Refined, logical instruction methods have been established, but overemphasizing logic in the beginning may cause a student to miss the essence of techniques.

Instructing in a dojo is a heavy responsibility. In an hour-long class the instructor must see to it that everyone in the class uses that hour effectively and is satisfied. I think one-way teaching is bad.

When I teach, I pay careful attention to the condition of the students. Also, I make note of such things as the proportion of beginners to experienced students, or, say, a class with a high number of women, and so on. I modify the contents of the training based on these sorts of things. I send out a certain “energy” and if the students respond to it then I can take the class to a different and slightly higher level.

I feel that rather than “teaching,” it’s more a matter of the teacher “learning.” I learned this from Shioda Sensei. The teacher has to watch the students’ response to the teaching method and evaluate what works and what doesn’t. Otherwise the teaching becomes stuck in certain patterns.

Using only one method of instruction is fine, but you need to add something to give it variety and flavor, for example giving advice about certain finer points to the more advanced students. Also, beginners team by first practicing the form, but sometimes it is helpful to say, “Don’t worry about form-just put a little power into it and see what happens!”

I try to teach the same technique in different ways, depending on the student. If someone seems lost I give them some individual advice. The training here may appear to be all the same, but a closer look will reveal that it’s actually quite varied.

There may be some criticism that my teaching methods are somewhat loose, but the fact is that it is impossible for me to put myself into the student’s body. When I turn and move my body I do it using my own balance, physique, and personality. There is no way I can put myself in the student’s body. All I can do is demonstrate to the best of my ability, whether I’m moving, turning, or whatever. Consequently, what I say to students can never be much more than advice.

We have Morihei Sensei, Shioda Sensei, and many other great teachers. Shioda Sensei and all the other teachers each have their own unique aikido, but I think it’s impossible simply to copy them. That’s one of the things that makes budo so interesting. People’s thoughts, family backgrounds, and all the other things about them are compressed and then explode in their techniques.

For Ueshiba Sensei, budo was strongly connected to religion, wasn’t it? But not much is heard about that in modem training. Do you feel it necessary to include religious or spiritual aspects in aikido training?

I don’t know about religion, but I do think it essential to strengthen the spirit. Whether it’s religion or something else, strengthening the spirit is indispensable in aikido training. Aikido is impossible without a certain amount of that, and this is probably true of any budo.

Particularly, in aikido we have “ki,” which is an extremely complex concept, but at the same time a very interesting one. It can’t really be expressed in words, but it’s a subtle… energy, if you will, something profound through which you can control the mind and spirit But I think it is impossible to manifest this ki-energy without substantial spiritual development. It’s easy to find the energy to escape or to take the easy path.

I’ve heard that in classical martial arts the teacher or the senior students take the role of uke, even when they become older. In aikido, however, people tend to stop training once they’ve become instructors, and by the time they’re over fifty years old they can’t take ukemi any more.

Yes, in the classical martial arts the more experience or rank someone has, the more ukemi they take. This is because their role is to help draw out their partner’s ki. In a way, this holds true for aiki as well. I think age won’t matter so much if we work to develop that kind of ukemi from now on.

There’s no need to throw particularly hard anyway. What is important as uke is to help your partner learn to adjust the combative interval (maai), for example, or to show them how to recover after taking a fall. The person taking the fall (uke) can help the other to develop ki and understand the interplay- perhaps you could call it “breath” (kokyu)-that exists between two partners. Attention to these things alone will help your partner to understand how to attack and take ukemi properly.

Occasionally, it’s good for uke to try to reverse the roles and counter attack, “Can you move? You can’t move, can you? A swift counterattack like this can immobilize you.” I believe this sort of ukemi also exists.

One’s technique changes with age, so naturally one’s ukemi will change as well. There are many different types of ukemi. You do ukemi not just because you are thrown or pinned, but also because it enables you to communicate things to your partner, such as the interplay between you, the closing of distance (maai), or the use of the eyes (metsuke).

There are various levels of ukemi. For example, beginners have little idea how to perform a new technique, so your role as uke is to lead them through it Beginners naturally try to push and pull their way through techniques, even if you tell them not to use power, but uke can lead them through the techniques so they realize that power is unnecessary. If students can form an image then they can practice with this image in mind and develop more rounded movements. The role of uke varies radically according to the level of experience and the type of training being pursued. In that sense, taking ukemi is probably one of the more difficult aspects of aikido training.

Many young people are fascinated by ukemi. There is a certain pleasure in taking ukemi, since being able to take any ukemi is rather like learning a new technique. Of course, it is also possible to become over-enthusiastic about ukemi, which leads to mistakes.

Aikido comes originally from the principles of the sword. In sword play one is sensitive to even subtle movements by an opponent that allow one to perceive when an attack will occur. We should study and integrate that sort of thing into our aikido. Of course, while we talk about the principles of the sword, we actually don’t do much training with it Whenever I practice with the sword or use the jo I try to do so in a way relevant to aikido, looking for things that might add to my aikido training. Viewing demonstrations of other martial arts with this in mind can also be very stimulating. I watch and think, “That’s an interesting way to dose distance… That footwork looks interesting… That was good timing!” and I think I might apply these things to aikido.

If you link all these things to aikido, then I think there’s little danger of losing sight of aikido. Without aikido as a common link, you tend to do things only halfway. People often insist on saying things like, “That’s different from aikido! That’s not aikido!” But there’s no way to know without actually trying it, and you can’t make such claims based only on your own suppositions.

What you have here is like a “dojo laboratory,” isn’t it?

Yes, you could call it that I want very much for it to be an environment conducive to research. I can only do a small fraction of the myriad of techniques taught to me by Shioda Sensei, but I keep Sensei’s techniques in mind and try to realize them.

I think that research is absolutely essential. I’ve been taught a great deal by Shioda Sensei, but much of it remains undigested, and there is much I don’t understand. Training gets very serious when we pull those out of the drawer one by one, so to speak, and study them together. Also, I think it’s good for my students to go out and be active in various other places.

At my dojo, students begin by learning proper form, but once basic form has been mastered, I always encourage people to go ahead and adapt their techniques. Developing proper form should come first, but this form is, after all, only a mold, and at some point it should be manifested as real techniques. Form itself should not be altered, but I think it possible to adapt techniques.

Every attack is slightly different, so naturally the techniques also must be adapted.

So much, in fact, that it’s difficult even to call them techniques. The expression “a masterpiece sword” (wazamono) is used to refer to particularly fine blades. No two are alike. In the same way, no two techniques are alike, either.

Technique is not merely movement. Only when the interplay of the spirit and all of the other aspects are unified and compressed within you can you be said to have technique. It’s easy to say the word “technique” but to truly master technique is quite difficult. Indeed, the difficulty of technique is what makes it interesting, and what makes it worth pursuing.

When I teach I don’t really bother my students with too many words. I just let them practice freely. Students won’t follow, however, if I don’t paint a picture of my ideal movements and aspire to come closer and closer to them. Also, I can’t ask people to do things that I can’t do myself. Simply talking about things doesn’t work. Students will be convinced if I can show them that which is within my capabilities.

The coach of a track team doesn’t have to be able to run a 100-meter dash in ten seconds. It’s enough if the runners do well in races. But budo is not like that If you can’t do the techniques then nobody will be convinced.

That’s very important in aiki, don’t you think?

It’s not simply a matter of doing one’s best. It’s not that kind of low level thing. If someone is going to teach, they should develop actual ability. If they don’t have it then they should train and study further. Then they must convince their students.

At my present level all I can do is be one hundred percent true to myself. I clearly admit to myself the things that I can’t do, or about which I know I may be mistaken.

For all I know, the techniques I’m doing now may change radically in the next five years. That may be putting it strongly, but in any case, techniques change depending on the circumstances, so in that sense they are alive.

Students often claim that some technique doesn’t work or that they can’t seem do it well. A certain amount of imitation is certainly necessary, but one must not stop there. It’s necessary to question, to ask yourself, “Why isn’t the opponent’s balance being broken? Why doesn’t it work the same way for me?” I encourage people to dig a little deeper by asking such questions. It’s not enough for a student to say, “It doesn’t work. Teach me how to do it.” They must at least ask “Why?” on their own.

I want students to have an attitude that prompts them to ask themselves, “Why?” In this search they will discover the element missing from their technique that prevents them from doing it well. In contrast, even if you show them the technique again, what you’re showing is still only the outer form of the technique. Students may seem momentarily to understand but a little later they’ll still be saying, “I can’t do it.” Or when they change partners they won’t be able to do it anymore.

I always say that techniques that will work on some people but not on others are not true techniques. Only when they work in all cases, when they break any opponent’s balance, are they true techniques.

These points alone provide a tremendous amount of material for study. In addition to movement and the flow of ki, I’d like students to discover and scrutinize other truly fascinating aspects of aikido.

Ki, too, is much talked about these days, but I think it’s too important to be taken lightly. A superficial understanding of ki is undesirable.

You can increase ki-power even without increasing speed. It’s actually more difficult to move slowly. What I mean rather than “slowly,” is to move with the right timing. It is truly difficult to move with the right timing when using a lot of power. Poor technique is difficult to hide when moving slowly. Slow movement reveals all.

It would be interesting to watch aiki in slow motion. I imagine if you captured O-Sensei’s or Shioda Sensei’s quintessential techniques on film and watched these in slow motion you would be able to see the extremely subtle interplay involved. It would be good to get the expression of their eyes, too. Shioda Sensei’s eyes are so terrible that he can almost control you with his eyes alone.

I’ve been talking about my approach to teaching, but in the end it’s really everyone’s enthusiasm that enables me to do it. Without that enthusiasm bubbling up from the bottom of people’s hearts it would be too much like a company where people just come, put in their time, and go home. That sort of atmosphere doesn’t suit a martial arts dojo. My students really help me out, for it is their enthusiasm that makes me want to say, “Let’s do aikido!” My students are my energy supply.

This is the second part of a two-part interview. Read the first part here.

Profile of Takefumi Takeno

Born 1947 in Yamanashi Prefecture, Japan. Became a live-in student at the Yoshinkan Hombu Dojo under Gozo Shioda Shihan in 1968, where he remained until 1987. From 1978 until 1987 he was a part-time aikido instructor for the police department. In 1981, Takeno was awarded the shihan license, and in 1988 became head of the Yamanashi branch of Yoshinkan aikido. He was promoted to 8th dan in 1992. Presently he is Director of the Japan Yoshinkan Aikido Federation, and he teaches aikido at Tokyo Bukkyo University and Yamanashi Medical University.