Judo's 100-Year Controversy

In the 1910s and 1920s, a controversy was brewing in South Japan that has yet to be resolved. Out of this region grew a powerful ground game that not only produced the triangle choke, but also was a mirror for what BJJ would become in the future. This was the birthplace of Kosen and with it came questions and debates that are still wrestled with well into the present. The ruleset that the Kodosenmon Gakkou, or Kosen for short, school system used was the original one codified by the Dai Nippon Budokukai, the central governing body of Japanese martial arts. The founder of Judo, Kano Jigoro, was heavily involved with the Budokukai and must have, at least at one point, given this ruleset his blessing. What no one foresaw was something that modern audiences have come to expect, the inevitable gamification of the rules. It was found that a technically weaker school was defeating an, on paper, higher level team guard pooling and entering directly into ground game. Kano was disgusted by this, having said, the foundation of Judo is Shinkenshoubu. In times past, ground techniques were used after the first opponent was completely overwhelmed in order to control a second opponent. In comparison to those times, Dai Nihai school responds to an attack with ground techniques from the very beginning. This is not a proper thing to do for Shinkenshoubu. Extremely cowardly. There is a lot to unpack from that quote, but most obviously is this idea of Shinkenshoubu. This roughly translates to live blade match, in reference to a duel with a sharpened blade. That is the term Kano uses here, but a similar sentiment is expressed in various ways across Japanese martial arts. The essence being that Japanese culture views true martial arts as pitting your very best versus your opponent's very best, full on, as soon as possible. Don't confuse this with recklessness though. The idea was simply that matches should be resolved in pure shows of technical skill, and the outcome decided decisively. This is why Kano found pulling guard in response to an attack so cowardly. It was essentially running away. It was using the rules to diminish their opponent's skills, rather than confronting them head on with their own skills. Secondly, Kano interestingly points out that pinning and ground submissions were mostly used to punctuate a multiple opponent encounter. He says that ground game is only suitable to control a singular, remaining assailant after the first has been completely overpowered. I point this out as interesting, because earlier conceptions of ground game don't even go this far. It's a bit of an oversimplification, but the basis of ground techniques in its earliest form was essentially get top position, stab the guy to death. While things like arm bars certainly existed, they seem to have been Hail Mary techniques for when you lost your weapon, and your opponent retained their own. Whether we refer to Kano's idea here or the earlier one, what is clear is that ground techniques were never used as a defensive option prior to Kosen Judo. One of Kano's strongest exponents was Tomiki Kenji, who once wrote that, We didn't like ground techniques, and we felt that the behavior of Daini High School was underhanded. However, in terms of theory, we knew that they were absolutely correct. That is, modern Kodokan Judo is sport. Therefore, as long as something does not violate the rules of the decided-upon method of competition, the goal is to win. Things such as Shinkin Shobu were outside of the equation in this case. Accordingly, I believe that the use of Dai Ichi High School's weakness in ground techniques to get the win is only reasonable. This problem of ground techniques versus standing techniques is a continuing problem, even today. Though even at the time, people acknowledged that purely within the realm of competitive matches, the strategy was legitimate, even if the behavior was culturally repulsive. What Kosen Judo players had discovered was, perhaps, the most efficient method for untimed open ruleset grappling ever devised. The problem, if you consider it one, is that it's a strategy that really only applies to competition. Prolonged ground grappling, we must understand, really has no historical precedent and, arguably, only rare real-world parallels. In Japan, the idea of ground grappling for long periods of time in a competitive fashion really only appeared with the implementation of mats in dojos, something that didn't really come into fashion until the mid-to-late 1700s. What we know about civil violence mostly involved what I described before. Going to the ground meant you were about to get shanked or arrested by a group of law enforcement. Even outside of Japan, you would be hard-pressed to find historical examples of people rolling around with one another outside of sports settings. And, indeed, in modern times, I would challenge you to find a street fight that has a duration anywhere near comparable to an average BJJ match. But being purely a sport isn't necessarily a sin. It just isn't what Kano was trying to create, either. When the notion of judo making it into the Olympics arose, Kano wrote the following, I do not feel inclined to take any initiative. For one thing, judo in reality is not a mere sport or game. I regard it as a principle of life, art, and science. In fact, it is a means for personal, cultural attainment. Kano himself was well-known for scolding students who absentmindedly chased competition medals. One of the students that Kano looked to as a future pillar teacher at the Kodokan was one Mochizuki Minoru who, at one point, he heavily criticized for spending his day sweeping two judo tournaments and showing up late for a meeting with him. Kano's views were hardly isolated, either. It is actually difficult to find examples of any prominent teacher in this time preaching that competition ought to be the central measure of a martial artist. For Kano, and for many like him, competition was merely a tool for testing one's own progress. The medals and accolades were actually meaningless. What mattered is that students could gauge themselves against their peers, and crucially, teachers like Kano cared more about the behaviors of students who experienced loss and victory rather than the losses and the victories themselves. Excuses in the face of a loss and pride in victory were both contemptible outcomes for Kano. Times have changed, though. In popular discourse, few things matter more than winning competition. No longer is competition a means to an end, but the end itself. As for the strategy of slowly grinding down opponents on the ground, that debate rages on. From popular influencers to decorated olympians. Many see BJJ as just a game. Groundwork is an aspect of more holistic grappling styles. For BJJ competitors, it increasingly seems like winning at any cost, or at the very least, not losing at any cost, has become an institution. Not only are matches infamously long and drawn out, sometimes even passive, but there is widespread use of PEDs. Some commentators even point out that competitors might take fewer risks because losses could affect sales of their gym memberships or technique instructionals. In that case, it's better to tie during a passive game than lose during an exciting one. Ground game has become just that. A game. And it's wrapped up in a win-at-any-cost attitude, with financial incentives well baked into the mix. And yet, none of this is to necessarily demonize BJJ. Not only do people need to make a living, but it would be stupid to argue that the strategy that Kosen Judo devised a century ago isn't a powerful, centralizing force in open rules grappling competitions. And in many ways, BJJ is a martial art for those weary of martial risk. A highly accessible, hobbyist haven. The controversy, then, is bound to rage forever, and what side you fall on is ultimately going to be dictated by your own values and preferences. If being an elite athlete or an injury-concerned hobbyist are your sole goals in the martial arts, then you probably don't see any fault in the state of ground game. If you view our training as a conduit to engage with a culture or as a tool for self-perfection, then competition probably is completely irrelevant to you. As for me personally, as I've remained relatively objective so far, I fall soundly into the Kano camp on this one. I like sparring, but wins only matter to me insofar as how I manage to achieve them. I typically impose conditions on myself in which the only acceptable way to win is one that I can achieve with a certain technique, or with a certain setup, or within a certain amount of time. To me, the act of competition is just a measuring stick. I used to have a few medals and certificates, but I don't even know where they are now and I don't much care. It's not like they were high-level or ultimately that meaningful to me. And to me, cleverly using the rules to compensate for poor technique or even support good technique is well outside of my interest. That probably makes me a pretty poor competitor, but I don't think that means I'm a poor martial artist. I just don't care about being the competitive best. My practice has taken me across the globe, inspired me to learn new languages and histories. It has taught me resilience in the presence of pain and courage in the face of fear. It's taught me to take calculated risks and to not run away from problems. I've connected with great people who I would never have met otherwise, married a woman I would have never met otherwise, and been given opportunities that I would have been barred from if it weren't for my martial training. I have confidence that my ability to punch or throw a person is better than the average Joe's, but I am equally cognizant of the fact that those tools have very little day-to-day applicability. I'll never be a world champion or an Olympian, but even if I could be, I'd trade those things away in a heartbeat for the ways that martial arts have enriched my life as it currently exists. Competition records can be very impressive, but to me, they are just one tiny, minuscule metric by which we measure the quality of a martial artist. To that end, even if taking every grappling match to the ground truly is the most effective way to win, it's also not the kind of win I value, it's not the kind of win I care about. And that, of course, assumes that I value winning unto itself, which I don't. So, the controversy will burn on for probably another hundred years, with no ground gained or lost on either side, both parties confidently declaring their superiority. At the end of the day, though, these martial arts are all relics of the past, and the techniques are only rarely going to get used outside of training or competition. What matters, then, is that you extract value from your practice in a way that influences your day-to-day, that makes your life better. If that's winning tournaments, then power to you. If it's something else, then power to you. There is more than one way to be a great martial artist. Don't let popular opinion tell you otherwise. Anyway, that's all from me for now. Thanks for watching, and any engagement with the video helps me produce more. I will catch you in the next one.