August 2019 – The Risk Issue

Welcome to August's Shinbun, the Risk Issue

This month we reflect on our silent partner on the mat, Risk.  It's something we manage (for ourselves), but it's also something we exploit (on the other guy).  "Paybacks are Hell" as Soke often says. But that this is still an understatement.  Whether it's military combat, cyberwarfare, or 19th century dueling, conflict is complicated.  It's multi-layered and sticky and requires sustained thought and reflection.

As always, please send pictures, pieces, ideas for pieces, stories, and upcoming events. I'll get them posted and sent out with the next newsletter.

Yours in Budo,
-Sensei Scot Lynch
Yondan, Tsugiashi-Do

On Sunday, August 18th, a few of us had lunch with Doc and his son, Shaw, at Blakehurst.  Good food, good talk!

from left to right: Joel Berger, Kevin McKinney, Tom Fox, Chris Ourand, Soke Doc Cohe, Scot Lynch, Nancy Guerriero, Shaw Cohe, Brian Guerriero.

Editor's Note: Whenever I spend any time with Tom Fox, I always work out harder for at least a week or two.

There will be a great imbalance in our strengths if we fight, because I am prepared to die and you are desperate to live.

― Tehmina Durrani, My Feudal Lord

A “Risk Officer?” What’s a “Risk Officer?”

We were in Mickey Bradle’s back yard (not metaphorically, but physically) after a seminar, enjoying a beer and some talk. I was telling Mickey about a new job, a “Risk Officer,” I had been asked to take on at my place of employment. “A risk officer?” he asked, with a combination of utter perplexity as well as the characteristic Mickey excitement of diving into a new subject. “What’s a risk officer?”

I explained that a Risk Officer was basically a professional worrier. Risk officers worry about what bad things might happen, what bad things could happen, what bad things almost happened, and mostly, what we’re going to do, what precautions we’re going to take, to make sure they never happen. There’s a surprising amount of math and analysis that goes into it, but at its base, it’s basically “worrying.”
Mickey began to share some firefighter talk, and his experiences as an electrician and municipal electrical inspector, and we both discovered that at worrying, firefighters leave risk officers in the dust. They worry about everything, the trucks, budgets, the equipment, each other, and the buildings they might have to run into. Ironically, they only time they stop worrying, Mickey assured me with a smile and great pride, is when there is an actual fire.

We talked about the risk/reward balance point, and how that shifts with time, how to think about impact, how to think about avoidance versus do-nothing. As we spoke, Mickey discovered that he would indeed be a fine risk officer. And then we began talking about martial arts, and we discovered that all the rules apply, plus a few more. Almost everything we do, certainly the habits and muscle memory we try to develop, are an attempt to manage our risks. And exploit the other guy’s.

However Shihan Bradle broke it down further still: Every attack creates vulnerability. We practice attacking in certain stances to minimize that vulnerability. Before I studied Ju-Jitsu, I thought that grabbing someone made me strong and them vulnerable. Now I understand some of the things that can happen to ME if I grab someone, or throw a punch, or throw a kick. I’m extended. I’m outside my centerline. I’m away from my hara. I’m exposed. If I hit my mark, good for me. If I don’t, I might have a problem. I also know there are precautions that can be taken to minimize that risk. Every stance, every strike, and every kata is a form of “what if…?” that we use to, well, worry about the different things that might happen, could happen, or things we want to make sure never happen.
How many of us remember fondly Soke Sensei tapping us lightly upside the head to remind us of when our “other” hand had unconsciously dropped. I like Shodai Sensei Faustini’s term for this “other” hand: “The Alive Hand.” This a profoundly useful “risk term” and we should understand it that way, not just as a good habit.

As we opened the next beer in Mickey’s back yard, we properly resolved that martial artists are, fundamentally, all risk officers, and that the term wasn’t so mysterious as it sounds.

The Age of Chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, never more, shall we behold the generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordination of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom. The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprize is gone!

- Edmond Burke
1729-1797

With the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, the concept of landowning lords riding out, armored and on horseback, in loyal service to their King (who had, after all, given that Lord the land which he oversaw), to fight his enemies themselves, putting their own bodies in harm’s way, was gone forever.
There is a scene in the series Downton Abbey, during WWI, where the owner of the Abbey, Lord Grantham, is summoned to London to meet with the other Lords. He arrives in his dress uniform but has packed his fighting uniforms and boots, assuming that he will be required to lead troops in Europe. One of the other lords puts a glass of champagne in his hand and informs him that this is a social event where he is expected to help raise funds for the war effort. None of them will be leaving England, none of them will be in the trenches with the soldiers. Lord Grantham is at once floored and secretly relieved. Still, it was an interesting scene, an outdated reminder of what lordship once required.

So it was now the fact that wars would be fought with dispassionate efficiency, with compensated, professionally trained soldiers, paid and controlled from the rear by the sophisters, economists, and calculators that Burke despised.

It fact, the Lords, Knights, Chevaliers, whatever you might call them, did surprising little of the actual fighting of the middle ages, and even less of the dying. But putting themselves at physical risk was key. Without risk, there is no Martial.

Click for a full view.

Soke recently gave me his library of Shinbuns, and each month, we're going to revisit what was going on 20 years ago.

What was happening?

The newsletter starts out with a contemporary question and quickly moves to philosophical nuances of fighting.

Japanese terms and a review of Kyoku Taiso, and a nifty illustration.

Also, news of my first trip to Hombu.  All these bring back fond memories.

Ironically, after including the pieces on knighthood and chivalry, I am reminded that my Sensei was talking about precisely these things 20 years ago.

There was an addendum (as frequently happened) to this month where Shihan Bill Dempsey asked a technical question about Kata 7 in the Tsugiashi Do manual (book 1, yellow belt).  I find this refreshing that even a senior, minted Shihan would still ask questions, was still thinking through and reflecting on the details, even of very simple moves. Soke, of course, put together a detailed addendum explaining the question, and a carefully illustrated picture of exactly how to get from step 3 to step 4.  The lesson is that no move is simple, even Shihans re-think and review, and that details matter!

Thank you Sensei!

Cowards die many times before their death. The brave die but once.

William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

The tradition of men of honor putting themselves at physical risk lived on, albeit awkwardly, in the act of the duel. And to super-charge a duel, one could add the practice of “deloping” or aiming into the air well away from the opponent, purposely wasting their shot.

The most famous case of this was in the summer of 1804, in Weehawken, New Jersey. Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr (Jefferson’s Vice President) were bitter political enemies, and the insults to each other had simply gotten too far advanced. And for gentlemen, a straightforward apology (as Hamilton surely owed Burr) would have been impossible. The only way to unwind the situation was The Duel, or the act of putting oneself at extreme physical risk to make a point.

Indeed, Hamilton put his shot in the air, as a form of 19th Century apology and classic “deloping.” Aaron Burr, however, took careful aim and shot Hamilton in the stomach, from which he died the next day, after a great deal of suffering.

It would take another 202 years before another sitting Vice President would shoot someone.  But it did happen.

As martial artists, we have to understand and manage risk. As students, we have to throw attacks, and we have to defend against them. And we have to do this under the watchful eye of a Sensei, so we run the additional risk of failure in their eyes, as well as our fellow students.

Taking Risks

As instructors, we run the risk of failing to perform a given move correctly in front of the students. We run the risk of injuring our students or even ourselves. And when I was teaching on my own at the Stamford YMCA, hardly a month would go by that someone would not come in for the free class and need to find out how good I was or, worse, would be running roughshod over the other students. Frequently these were curious guys from the gym who were bigger and stronger than me, who would throw surprise or cheap attacks. With my students watching, I would have to prove to them that Tsugiashi Do really works. I’m happy to say that it always did. However the challenge could not be administrated from the rear. Each challenge had to be answered for the sake of the students. The students found out that the style works, and that active and sustained practice matters. But the exchanges were never without personal risk. Because that’s what Sensei does.

My advice to students is: Take Risks.  Get up and demonstrate to your sensei.  Be someone's uki.  Throw a good attack. Go to another dojo.  Attend a seminar. Get out there and take risks.

Theorie Du Drone (Theory of the Drone) by Gregoire Chamayou

The attempt to eradicate all direct reciprocity in any exposure to hostile violence transforms not only the material conduct of armed violence technically, tactically, and psychically, but also the traditional principles of a military ethos officially based on bravery and a sense of sacrifice. Judged by the yardstick of such classical categories, a drone looks like the weapon of cowards.

This book is a very scientific and philosophical look at warfare today, and the constant struggle (not new) of trying to free ourselves from “the constraints imposed by reciprocal relations.” One of the reasons that suicidal terrorism has such an emotional impact is that “the author of the attack, through his action, a priori rules out any kind of retributive justice.” The suicide bomber has effectively removed reciprocity, our ability to find him, fight him, and punish him, and this terrifies the western mind. However the current drone technology succeeds in doing exactly that: removing any possibility of reciprocity. As thinking, voting citizens, we need to reflect on this.

As a technologist, I particularly enjoyed exploring the parallels of cyber-crime to the removal of the concept of “reciprocity.” There is a lot to consider in this small (274 page) book. Fighting is complicated.

One night, after class, Billy B’s Restaurant and Tavern, Edgewater, NJ. Circa 1989.

Soke Sensei was making the rounds, spreading himself around several tables of students and instructors, catching up. Encouraging, coaching, explaining. He approached the table I was at with particular excitement, Shihan Mickey Bradle in tow. The two of them sat down with their beers, where several of us, including Sensei Shawn Wittenberg, were sitting. Sensei Shawn did not have a lot of time in rank, but he was turning out to be an exceptional blackbelt. “Well? How did it go?” Soke asked him. Sensei Shawn had been visiting another dojo and mixing it up with the other instructors. Soke wanted an update.

“Well, it was going pretty good for a while.” Shawn said. “I could always take the attack, tie them up, and most of the time I could make a pretty good throw or at least dump them.”
“Yes?” Soke said. “So what’s happening now?”

Shawn thought about it and said “I don’t know, I can’t seem to catch any of the attacks anymore, and I never get to make a throw.” He sounded disappointed.

Soke considered this and after almost a minute, asked in a low voice “Where you getting hit before?”
“Yeah,” Shawn responded, “Sometimes, I would get tagged, sometimes almost get tagged, but not that much.”

“What about now?” Soke asked.

Shawn looked off at the distance and scrunched up his forehead, deep in thought. “No,” he said, a little confused. “No.”

A broad, grin came across Soke’s face. He looked at Mickey, and the two of them started to laugh, leaving us all confused. They both pushed their chairs back and got up. Before walking away to the next table, Soke leaned way over to Shawn, and said softly, with a big amused smile, “They’re not attacking you anymore.”

Once Sensei Shawn’s opponents in the other dojo began to get dumped regularly, they began, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps on purpose, to throw less committed, less extended, less exposed, less “risky” attacks. And these less risky attacks were harder for Shawn to catch.

We all took a long pull of our beers and considered this. Dazed and exasperated, Shawn said to no one in particular, “He just figured that whole thing out…from here!”

And that’s the onions of risk.

Summer, 1999.  Albany, New York.