Title: Limits of Understanding in the Study of Lost Martial Arts
Author: Eric Burkart
Summary:
Eric Burkart’s article "Limits of Understanding in the Study of Lost Martial Arts" delves into the complexities surrounding the reconstruction of historical European martial arts (HEMA) techniques based on medieval fight books. Burkart, from Trier University’s Department of Medieval History, presents a nuanced exploration of the epistemological challenges and methodological considerations in interpreting and reviving these ancient combat techniques.
Burkart's study is organized around the notion of "embodied technique," drawing on the works of Ben Spatz and Michael Polanyi to explore the relationship between practice, technique, and knowledge transmission. He defines technique as "the knowledge content of specific practices" and highlights the semiotic references between practice, technique, and the symbols that represent them.
The primary challenge Burkart addresses is the "tacit knowing" embedded in historical records, which modern practitioners attempt to decode and transform into explicit knowledge. He argues that the limited information in fight books regarding the execution of techniques results in modern HEMA practices being more accurately described as contemporary constructions rather than authentic reconstructions of medieval techniques. This aligns with Polanyi's concept of tacit knowledge, which suggests that certain skills and knowledge are inherently difficult to articulate and record.
Burkart parallels the discourse in HEMA with debates in musicology, where scholars and practitioners have long discussed the authenticity of recreating medieval music based on incomplete notation systems. He points out that just as the historical performance movement in music aimed to recreate the sound of medieval music using original or replica instruments, HEMA practitioners use replicas of medieval weaponry and armour to experiment with and revive historical combat techniques.
The article emphasizes that techniques cannot be fully understood or transmitted solely through written records; they are inherently tied to the embodied practices and cultural contexts of their time. This is evident in the way fighting techniques were not just physical actions but elements of broader social systems that conveyed status, identity, and cultural values.
Burkart also notes that modern interpretations of medieval fighting techniques are influenced by the practitioners' own embodied knowledge and training in contemporary martial arts. This creates a dialectical relationship between historical research and modern practice, where each informs and shapes the other.
In addressing the question of what constitutes technique and how it is related to practice, Burkart draws on the concept of "techniques of the body" introduced by Marcel Mauss. This concept underscores the idea that techniques are socially acquired and transmitted, varying across different societies and historical periods.
Burkart advocates for a comprehensive approach that integrates cultural history and martial arts studies to understand the mediality of historical records of technique. He suggests that a twofold ethnographic perspective is necessary: one that examines medieval cultures of fighting from a historical standpoint and another that considers modern HEMA practices as contemporary fighting cultures influenced by historical imaginations and scholarly interpretations.
Furthermore, Burkart discusses the implications of this research for modern practitioners and historians. He stresses the importance of acknowledging the limitations of our understanding while appreciating the rich, interpretative efforts involved in reviving these martial arts. He also highlights the potential for cross-disciplinary collaboration, where insights from anthropology, history, and performance studies can enrich our approach to studying and practising HEMA.
By framing medieval fight books as attempts to document and organize practical knowledge, Burkart's article sheds light on the inherent limitations and possibilities in studying and reconstructing lost martial arts. It calls for a critical reflection on the ways in which historical techniques are understood, interpreted, and practised in the modern context.
In conclusion, Burkart’s article provides a thoughtful examination of the challenges in reviving lost martial arts. It urges scholars and practitioners alike to adopt a reflective and interdisciplinary approach, recognising the complex interplay between historical knowledge and modern practice. His insights contribute significantly to the ongoing discourse in HEMA and the broader field of martial arts studies, encouraging a deeper understanding of the cultural and embodied dimensions of martial techniques.
Bibliographic Entry:
Burkart, Eric. "Limits of Understanding in the Study of Lost Martial Arts." Acta Periodica Duellatorum, Conference Proceedings, International Medieval Congress, Leeds, July 2016, pp. 5-11. DOI: 10.1515/apd-2016-0008.

Jennings, George. “Ancient Wisdom Modern Warriors: The (Re)Invention of a Mesoamerican Warrior Tradition in Xilam.” Martial Arts Studies Special Edition: The Invention of Martial Arts, Universidad YMCA, Mexico City, Mexico. 

In "Ancient Wisdom Modern Warriors: The (Re)Invention of a Mesoamerican Warrior Tradition in Xilam," George Jennings explores the modern Mexican martial art Xilam, which is inspired by the pre-Hispanic warrior cultures of ancient Mesoamerica, including the Aztec, Maya, and Zapotec civilisations. This study situates Xilam within the context of Latin American fighting systems that have been recently invented but seek to revive ancient philosophies and practices.

Xilam was developed in the 1980s and officially registered in 1992. Despite its recent origins, it aspires to reconnect Mexicans with their ancestral roots through a martial art embodying pre-Columbian civilisations' wisdom and philosophies. Jennings employs Guillermo Bonfil Batalla's concept of "México Profundo" to frame his analysis, emphasising the contrast between contemporary Mexico, influenced by Western (Occidental) ideals, and the profound cultural heritage of Mesoamerica.

The article delves into how Xilam is portrayed through its official website, Facebook group, and YouTube channel, highlighting the association's mission to transmit elements of Mesoamerican civilisation to modern Mexicans. Jennings notes that Xilam acts as a form of physical (re)education, aiming to cultivate personal development and national identity. He argues that Xilam represents an "invented tradition" and a "reinvented tradition," providing insights into transformation, transmission, and transcendence.

Xilam is not simply a martial art but a comprehensive life philosophy. It encourages practitioners to "remove the skin" (a metaphor for shedding ego and old beliefs) and rediscover aspects of themselves and their heritage. This idea is echoed in the official website's assertion that Xilam aims to awaken the internal warrior within each Mexican, fostering a sense of identity and purpose grounded in pre-Hispanic traditions.

Jennings delves into the challenges and obstacles faced by Marisela Ugalde, the founder of Xilam, a woman of diverse heritage. Despite not being indigenous in a genetic or social sense, Ugalde's vision for Xilam is deeply rooted in the pre-Hispanic philosophies she seeks to revive. Jennings underlines the profound significance of Ugalde's journey, noting that her daughter Mayra is the designated lineage holder, hinting at the potential for Xilam's continued evolution.

The analysis extends to the broader sociocultural impact of Xilam, touching upon issues of national identity, cultural preservation, and resistance to Westernisation. Jennings juxtaposes the idealised vision of Mesoamerican civilisation with the reality of modern Mexico, critiquing the country's adoption of foreign models and advocating for a return to indigenous values.

The multimodal methodology employed by Jennings, including participant observation, life history interviews, and media and textual analysis, provides a comprehensive understanding of how Xilam is communicated and perceived. By examining the multimedia data, Jennings illuminates how Xilam seamlessly fuses ancient wisdom with contemporary practices, offering a captivating perspective on the intersection of tradition and modernity in martial arts.

Overall, Jennings' study of Xilam offers profound insights into the reinvention of martial arts as a means of cultural revival and personal development. It underscores the enduring relevance of ancient philosophies in addressing contemporary issues, inspiring us to look to the past for guidance in the present.

As someone who has emigrated twice in my life, first to Canada (from Ireland) and then to Japan (from Canada), I have always sat between worlds - never quite at 'home in any but enjoying the benefits of all. Although I consider myself "Irish," I am not sure what that even means, for I know much of how I think and problem-solve I do via a Canadian or Japanese lens - it depends on the desired outcome. However, I hold the idea that a lived life matters dear. Not perpetually preparing for old age or death but rather as the quote proclaims to live deeply. This is how I have approached my life, for better or worse, since I became conscious that I could shape my destiny. The quote from Henry David Thoreau. 
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms."
{This is from his book "Walden," specifically from the chapter "Where I Lived, and What I Lived For."}

So when it comes to Bushido, or was it considered Bushido in the common press, I have serious reservations. However, let me explain.

Firstly, it is crucial to debunk the myth of a monolithic Bushido code. Contrary to popular belief, Bushido is not a single, unchanging doctrine but a collection of various codes that evolved over centuries, tailored to the needs and values of different clans. The term 武士道 (Bushidō), often romanticised in modern interpretations, obscures a complex historical reality. For instance, the Tokugawa clan's interpretation emphasised loyalty and obedience to the shogunate, while the Shimazu clan valued cunning and strategic thinking. These divergent codes reflected their respective times' and leaders' practical needs and philosophical foundations.

From a European perspective, the glorification of death, as seen in specific interpretations of Bushido, contrasts starkly with Western philosophies that celebrate the virtues of living. Thinkers such as Michel de Montaigne and Marcus Aurelius have long emphasised that the quality of life and the wisdom gained through experience are paramount. Montaigne's essays, for instance, often explore the richness of human experience, urging us to live fully and reflectively. Similarly, the Stoic philosophy of Marcus Aurelius values rational living and personal virtue over the mere fact of death. This stark contrast underscores the need for a balanced and reflective approach to living, drawing on both Eastern and Western philosophies.

Moreover, it is essential to contextualise the samurai's esteemed position within Japanese society. Unlike in Japan, where the warrior class was revered, Confucian societies typically viewed warriors as the lowest rung of the social hierarchy. Confucius regarded scholars and sages as the pinnacle of society, relegating warriors to a status beneath farmers and artisans. This distinction highlights a significant cultural divergence: the Japanese warrior's honour-bound existence was not universally esteemed across East Asia. This cultural context is crucial to understanding the unique position of the samurai and the values they upheld.

To illustrate this point further, consider the Kanji 忠義 (chūgi), representing loyalty and righteousness, pivotal to many samurai codes. While this concept was indeed crucial, its interpretation and application varied. The Asakura clan, for instance, might have prioritised 忠義 (chūgi) in the context of familial loyalty and fealty to their immediate lord. In contrast, the Tokugawa shogunate might have interpreted it in a broader, more political context, demanding loyalty to the overarching state.

The romanticised notion of Bushido as a single, rigid code does a disservice to the rich, diverse history of the samurai. It oversimplifies a complex array of values into a caricature, often used to propagate anachronistic ideals. Understanding the multiplicity of Bushido codes allows us to appreciate the breadth of samurai thought and the pragmatic realities of their lives.

In conclusion, while the notion of a glorious death might hold some allure, the lived experiences, the wisdom gained, and the virtues cultivated over a lifetime truly define a person. As a practitioner and teacher of traditional martial arts, my focus remains on how we live our lives, drawing on both Eastern and Western philosophies to inform a balanced and reflective approach to living.

The samurai's life, replete with duty, honour, and personal growth, offers lessons far beyond the battlefield. By focusing on "how I lived" rather than "how I died," we can honour the samurai's legacy more authentically. This perspective encourages us to lead lives of purpose and virtue, grounded in the wisdom of varied traditions.

The Caged Bird and the Open Door: A Japanese Parable of Freedom and Attachment

Japan is a land rich with stories and parables that reflect its deep cultural and philosophical heritage. One such story, often told to illustrate themes of freedom and attachment, is the parable of "The Caged Bird and the Open Door." This tale has captivated the hearts and minds of many, providing timeless wisdom through its simple yet profound narrative.

The Story of the Caged Bird

The story, known in Japanese as "鳥籠と開いた扉" (Torikago to Aita Tobira), is as follows:

Once upon a time, a man kept a beautiful bird in a cage. The bird was given the finest food and the most exquisite cage, reflecting the man's deep affection for it. However, one day, he decided to leave the cage door open, offering the bird the freedom to fly away whenever it wished.

Despite the open door and the beckoning vast sky, the bird chose to stay inside the cage. It would often perch at the threshold, looking out at the world beyond but never venturing out. The man was puzzled and wondered why the bird did not embrace its freedom.

The bird had become accustomed to the safety and comfort of the cage. The open sky, though full of possibilities, also represented uncertainty and danger. The bird's choice to remain in the cage, despite the open door, highlighted its attachment to the familiar and the secure, even at the cost of its freedom.

Cultural Context and Philosophical Underpinnings

This parable resonates deeply within Japanese culture, reflecting the interplay between attachment and freedom that is central to many Japanese philosophical traditions.

Buddhism and Zen Philosophy: In Buddhism, particularly Zen, there is a strong emphasis on overcoming attachments and achieving inner freedom. The bird's reluctance to leave the cage symbolises the human tendency to cling to familiar comforts, even when they are limiting. This story serves as a reminder of the Buddhist teaching that true liberation comes from within, by letting go of attachments.

Symbolism in Japanese Culture: Birds in Japanese culture often symbolise freedom and the human spirit. The open door of the cage represents opportunities and the potential for liberation. The parable encapsulates the tension between the security of the known and the allure of the unknown, a theme prevalent in many Japanese stories and teachings.

Historical and Literary Origins

While the exact origins of "The Caged Bird and the Open Door" are not definitively documented, it draws from a long tradition of Japanese parables and moral stories that have been passed down through generations. These stories often have roots in Buddhist and Zen teachings, which have been integral to Japanese culture for over a millennium.

A Modern Reflection: "Rising Sun"
The story also found a place in modern narratives, such as the 1993 film "Rising Sun," directed by Philip Kaufman and based on the novel by Michael Crichton. In the film, the parable is used to illustrate broader themes of cultural conflict and personal freedom. It serves as a metaphor for the characters' struggles with their own limitations and the choices they face in navigating different cultural landscapes.

Conclusion
"The Caged Bird and the Open Door" remains a poignant and thought-provoking story within Japanese culture. It speaks to the universal human experience of grappling with freedom and attachment, encouraging reflection on what it means to be truly free. As we ponder the bird's choice, we are invited to consider our own cages and open doors, and the choices we make between security and the vast possibilities that lie beyond.

NB:
The parable of "The Caged Bird and the Open Door" is often associated with both Japanese and Chinese cultural and philosophical traditions. While it is widely known in Japan, its roots can also be traced back to ancient Chinese philosophy, particularly Daoism and Buddhism, which have significantly influenced both Chinese and Japanese cultures.

Chinese Origins
In Chinese philosophy, stories and parables about birds and cages often appear in Daoist and Buddhist teachings. These stories typically illustrate themes of freedom, attachment, and the nature of reality. For instance, Daoist philosophy, with its emphasis on naturalness and freedom from societal constraints, often uses such imagery to convey its principles.

Japanese Adaptation
In Japan, these themes were absorbed and adapted through the influence of Buddhism, particularly Zen Buddhism, which was introduced from China. The story of the caged bird is thus a part of the broader cultural exchange between China and Japan, reflecting shared philosophical concepts.