Pre-War Jiujitsu in Europe

Before the second world war, jiujitsu was taught as an independent system throughout Europe. [1] There was no influence from arts like karate or aikidō; furthermore, jiujitsu was different and separate from jūdō. This jiujitsu may have been a bit stiff, and probably relied more on strength than we are led to believe when we read the books and newspaper articles from that period, but its practice still developed formidable fighters, who fought matches against boxers, wrestlers and sometimes just plain street fighters. Some of these matches were organized, while others were unruly affairs, the result of an impromptu challenge during what was intended to be a demonstration of the art. Jiujitsu had to prove its mettle and the record shows that it did.

Post-War Jiujitsu in Europe

After the second world war, jiujitsu waned in popularity. It had to compete with others arts like jūdō, karate, aikidō, taekwondo, kung-fu, to name just a few. And frankly, jiujitsu did not do so well against these more sophisticated, complete martial art forms, both in terms of popularity and effectiveness. This was not only the situation in my country, the Netherlands, but the same could be seen in countries throughout Europe. Jiujitsu became marginalized.

The old-timers mostly kept to themselves, training in small clubs, teaching the techniques that were now deemed old-fashioned and outdated. Others, who wanted to modernize jiujitsu, created systems with extensive curricula, and standardized methods of teaching and examination. It was not unusual for some teachers to train a bit in karate or aikidō, and add some elements of these arts to their jiujitsu. Their focus was on creating a system that could be taught over a several years period with a uniform curriculum, and a grading system equal to jūdō. What emerged was a form of European jiujitsu that had a lot of one-technique pattern drills. On the plus side, thanks to the efforts of those modern minded teachers, jiujitsu became more popular again and the numbers of practitioners increased. On the other hand, these changes often diminished the self-protection value of jiujitsu in a serious way, and thus altering the essence of the art.

My Own Path

I started training jiujitsu at the age of fourteen, in 1975. My first instructor of both jiujitsu and jūdō was Johan van der Bruggen, who had trained under Nakada Taiji, in Surabaya, Indonesia. Based on what he taught, our best guess is that Nakada was a student of Tenjin Shinyō-ryū (天神真楊流); he is not listed as a yudansha at the Kodokan. There were actually a surprising number of  Tenjin Shinyō-ryū practitioners who settled in a number of areas throughout the world in the late 19th century and early 20th century, founding independent schools that shared much the same curricula: something very similar to early jūdō, along with various kata practices as well.  Van der Bruggen also studied with Koizumi Gunji and Kawaishi Mikinosuke, well-known pioneers of European jūdō. Van der Bruggen used Kawaishi’s system of teaching jūdō.

In 1987, I began training in Kano-ryū jiujitsu with Tony Hughes, a student of James Hipkiss. Hipkiss was a student of Koizumi Gunji (and to a lesser degree, Abbe Kenshiro). He was dissatisfied with the increasingly sportive direction of postwar jūdō, and attempted to preserve the jiujitsu and jūdō he had learned from Koizumi as one art.

After a few years, I began training in Shinkage-ryū jūjutsu (真蔭流), from Archibald Johnson. Shinkage-ryū is one of the most widely used appellations among Japanese martial arts. This particular ryūha, created in the Meiji period, was founded by Imaizumi Hachiro (今泉八郎). Imaizumi studied Sekiguchi Shinshin-ryū jūjutsu (関口新心流) and Kusunoki-ryū kenpō (楠流拳法) from Imaizumi Ryūsetsusai Tomoaki, later taking his teacher’s family name. He later studied Tenjin Shinyō-ryū under Iso Mataemon and Araki-ryū bōjutsu & torite from Taiboku Kuranosuke (大木蔵之進), a vassal from Iyo-Matsuyama province. In 1883, Imaizumi became a police instructor in Shitaya, Tokyo. He founded the Enbukan dōjō. He died in 1906. The Shinkage-ryū that Johnson taught was a typical Meiji era jūjutsu, mostly stand-up arms-length grappling, with take-downs rather than jūdō type throws, and locks and pins.

After establishing my own dōjō, I continued to seize the opportunity to train in other systems. Most notably, I attended many seminars with Henry Schubert, from Germany, who had lived in Japan for a considerable time, and fortuitously, lived right down the street from the Inoue family, the headmasters of Fusen-ryū jūjutsu. He studied extensively with them and after returning to Germany, adhered to what Inoue sensei told him, enthusiastically spreading what he had learned.

Not for everyone

After these many decades of training, my own jiujitsu developed into something different, almost by its own will. It is not a style I “created;” rather, it “came into being.” It is a combination of all the older forms I’d learned, most notably the Shinkage-ryū and Fusen-ryū, as well as Kano-ryū.

One more encounter had a very significant effect on the development of my current practice. Some years ago, Ellis Amdur came to Holland to teach a very intense week of Araki-ryū torite-kogusoku. One thing he said really stayed with me: “Araki-ryū is one kata.” Although I never became his formal student, these words inspired me to rework everything I had learned. During his visit, Amdur sensei rather informally taught one set of five brutally simple kata from the Araki-ryū torite curriculum, entitled Gohō no Dan. He later gave me permission to use this set as I saw fit. Thus, a small portion of Araki-ryū, filtered through our own perspective, is part of our curriculum. We distilled all of this down into five kata for jiujitsu, each of them rich in content and information, informed also by my experience as a jūdōka.

After training for some thirty years, it became apparent to me that what we did had become different from other schools of jiujitsu. I decided to name the style after my first teacher’s school and since he had already passed, asked his son (his legal heir) for permission to do so. He graciously granted me permission. I wished to pay full respect to my first teachers, who gave me the physical grounding upon which everything since was built. Therefore, I named my current school, Nakada Shin-ryū.

The ultimate question, though, is this: Does it work against a resisting opponent? I’ve taught this compact system to Security Liaison Officers, and others who need effective techniques at close range, and they report that it has been very useful to them in the course of their work. We have only a few people training, all of them long-time practitioners of budō. We are not to be found on the internet nor do we advertise. Our training is not for everyone. It is not because the training is overly tough nor is the system is very difficult to learn. It is not for everyone because it is boring. When one trains in the essence of an art, stripping away everything that is not necessary, you are left with very little material to work with. That is difficult for a lot of people: for most, I dare say. On the other hand, it makes a few of us very happy. Besides that, since we train for the real world, we have to be practical, and thus we get by with only a few kata.

Five kata for jiujitsu may not seem like much, but with all the variations possible on several levels, there is still quite a lot to train. Besides jiujitsu, we have a few iai kata as well as kata for tantō (single edged dagger). The kata provide structure and context, and they each contain rudimentary techniques. Having said that, the kata contain a lot more than is obvious at first sight.

On Shizentai

All our jiujitsu kata start from shizentai: the natural posture from jūdō, if you like. A lot of modern jiujitsu styles scoff at this stance as it is supposed to be a non-dynamic posture, and thus, not useful for self-protection. From our point of view, however, shizentai is a very useful posture for self-protection. It can communicate self-confidence, even quiet authority while not giving away any information about your abilities or intentions. The posture is not threatening and at the same time, does not imply fear. It helps you staying calm while displaying a neutral posture, which is requisite if you are trying to de-escalate a situation. It is good to regulate your breath, and it is a good posture to also de-escalate yourself, which is the first thing you have to do before you can de-escalate anyone else.

On the other hand, it can also be very useful in lulling an opponent into a false sense of security, being an invitation, so to speak, for your opponent to come close to you, where jiujitsu works best. Finally, you never know who you are dealing with and what they are capable of. Being reasonable and polite, and showing good manners is always a good tactic; shizentai provides for a perfect posture for just that.

One Example Of Our Kata Practice

The first kata to be learned is tegarami – a defense against ryotedori (both hands grasped). The gist of the kata is that as soon as both wrists are grabbed, the defender grabs a wrist of the attacker with one hand, grabs his throat with his other hand (without freeing this hand), and executes a takedown and a choke. Ryotedori can be any sort of attack, really. Apart from containing several important lessons and tactics, this kata is a safe way to start learning the essence of the school.

On Tantōjutsu

Some time ago, I was teaching self-protection and unarmed combat to the Security Liaison Officers of a government agency in my home country. Several years into the program, we received information showing an alarming rise in the number of knife attacks throughout Europe. Reports showed people were usually stabbed multiple times during these incidents instead of being stabbed once or twice.

Since I was a member of the teaching staff, my presence was required at regular meetings. During one such meeting, the subject of the rise of knife-related incidents was on the agenda. Several questions were raised and heads turned towards me. My first solution, which sounded logical to me, was to make stab-proof vests part of the standard equipment for the officers. After a regrettably short period of time considering this option, it was decided against due to budgetary reasons. Again the heads turned towards me. The solution I came up with was to add a section to our curriculum concentrating on working with a knife. Since modern jiujitsu did not provide adequate answers to this problem, I had to look elsewhere. I drew upon my experience with several of the older forms of jūjutsu I had come into contact with and came up with a set of eight kata. We tested the kata under pressure with protective gear on several occasions, before we presented them to the board. These techniques proved themselves to be solid and reliable where the techniques of modern jiujitsu failed to do so.

Let us consider the technique of the outward wrist twist, known in many schools as kotegaeshi. We found this technique will not work against a violent stabbing attack, where the attacker is truly attempting to seriously wound or kill you. However, where it does work is as a “third party” technique in, for example, a hostage-taking situation. One officer is engaged directly with the subject while a second Security Officer enters on the blind side at the moment the hostage-taker points the knife away from the hostage. At that moment, the weapon-hand is grasped and kotegaeshi works remarkably well.

The tantōjutsu section consists of four sets of two kata each. Each set has a central theme:

  • The first set concentrates on realistic defensive actions against a realistic attack.
  • The second set focuses on timing.
  • The third set concerns weapon retention.
  • The fourth set addresses “What to do when there is not much you can do.”

Out of necessity (available training time, the need for a small body of effective techniques that will be “available,” even during an adrenaline dump), this set of kata is not difficult to learn and it teaches practical responses. For example, the first kata is named tsukidaoshi. The attack is a stab to the belly that uke forestalls with an x-block. We do not, however, choreograph “guaranteed success.” Uke’s hands are trapped and cut, and uke is repeatedly stabbed while being forcibly pushed backwards, and stabbed again. For safety considerations, the stabs are to the abdomen in practice. In the real world, the stabs will be anywhere the attacker can get to: eyes, neck, torso, groin legs. Tsukidaoshi is used to experience being on the receiving end of a ferocious attack. Tori driving someone back forcefully and stabbing repeatedly practices aggression and a raw mindset. The x-block in the kata can actually be any defense uke comes with: block, grab, kick you name it. The idea is that tori uses whatever uke comes up with, cuts that and keeps attacking.

Our section on tantōjutsu, as we use it, is an example of an art which is alive today. We are not trying to preserve techniques, simply because they descend from a previous era, nor are we play-acting as samurai. We turned to them out of necessity. In addition, we made them fit in with our modern-day methods of training and equipment. Unfortunately stabbing incidents have become all too common throughout Europe, occurring on almost on a weekly basis so we really need something tried and tested as an answer to a changing environment.

We often hold after-action debriefings and feedback sessions after training. What I found to be interesting is that most participants were not so much bothered by being on the receiving end of the kata, tsukidaoshi, defending against the attack. They found it much more difficult to enact their role as attacker, the repeated and aggressive attitude. [I recall one participant during class stating out loudly ” This is not what I signed up for!” Since he did this out loud during class I replied that if that was the case he might be in the wrong profession. From the corner of my eyes I could see his operational manager present, frowning and nodding his head affirmatively.]

On realism

A couple of years ago I got an invitation by one of the largest organizations for jiujitsu in my country, to give a seminar on tantōjutsu to a group of their teachers. The seminar went well. At a certain point, we got to a kata named kodachizume. Here, the attacker takes hold of the defenders lapel with one hand, and puts a tantō at the side of his neck. I asked the participants to come up with a practical solution for this situation. One of them, a rokudan in jiujitsu, no less, came up with the solution of an atemi to the attacker’s solar plexus. My answer that this was not possible in this situation met with the reaction: ” Yeah, but a really fast one?!”

What was most troubling was that it was a sincere question on part of the rokudan. This, to me, clearly illustrated how far modern jiujitsu is removed from practical use and reality. Most dōjō have become playgrounds, training for matches or kata contests. Because the instructors are never tested in the real world, they live in a sort of fantasy about what is possible. This means that it is very easy for people who train like this to develop a false sense of security with possible disastrous consequences if ever put to the test.

On Fear

There is an element of tension and fear in real conflict that cannot be replicated in the dōjō. No matter how realistic you make the training: break up the kata, use live blades, etc., your training partner will never be after your blood. I have trained against live blades, empty hand against sword. We did kata, adhering strictly to what the kata prescribed. Even so, these training sessions were not happy occasions, and I remember going to the dōjō with a knot in my stomach. This came close to experiencing fear in the dōjō because, at that moment, even if only within kata, practice one really was in danger. Still, that did not give me the experience of feeling the rage, the bloodlust of an aggressor bent on my destruction. That cannot be replicated. That can only be experienced “out there.”

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[1] When the modern European-based martial art is referred to, I will use the term jiujitsu. When I write about any classical koryū system, I will use the term jūjutsu.

Author

Johan Smits began his study of martial arts in 1975, learning jiujitsu and jūdō. He has trained in several modern forms of jiujitsu and several older ones, mainly Shinkage-ryū, Fusen-ryū and Kano-ryū. He practiced Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto-ryū under Willem Bekink for ten years, starting in 1987. He also trained in aikidō and learned xingyiquan and taijiquan from sifu Qiu Rong Zhao.

He is a licensed teacher of jiujitsu and is author of several publications on the history of jiujitsu and jūdō in the Netherlands. One of his books is translated in English and is available here.

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