Lost in translation

By Liese Klein

Editor's note: Liese Klein is our reporter from Hombu dojo. She will be providing a picture of what it is like to live in Japan and practice at Aikikai Headquarters. Her column promises to be entertaining and can provide insight for those considering such a pilgrimage.

When you translate "pizza" into Japanese, you may get a squid-and-fish egg concoction with corn sprinkled over the top. When you translate "hamburger" into Japanese, you may get two hockey pucks of gluey rice with carrots and seaweed in the middle.

So what do you get when you translate "Aikido" into English -- or any other language, for that matter?

Many would say you get a harmonious cultural hybrid, but others would say you get a tasteless mess. What are we missing in translation? What key elements of Aikido are left out or transformed in the process of adapting it to a non-Japanese culture?

I started thinking about this a lot early in my stay in Japan when I started teaching English. Right from the beginning, students would call me "sensei" when addressing me after class. I was horrified! How could I, a lowly part-time teacher, be called by such an exalted title? In my Aikido experience, the word "sensei" carried connotations of invincible power and unquestionable authority. Was I that good an English teacher?

Not quite. I soon learned that "sensei" is used for any teacher of anything, for older people to whom you want to show respect and even for any artist, whether you like his or her work or not. Worst of all, I discovered that every lawyer in Japan is called sensei.

Students of Japanese soon learn that sensei is only one of an entire hierarchy of titles, from "chan," (a suffix used for someone small and cute--like a dog or a kid or a young woman) to "sama," (a suffix used to show reverence for God or an honored customer).

Sensei is only one of many titles used to establish hierarchy in Japan, and has a flexible and constantly shifting meaning depending on the situation. In fact, in daily speech everyone has a title-like suffix of some kind attached to his or her name.

This was brought home to me one day recently when I was on my way to work. A seedy-looking character ran by me at top speed being chased by a convenience store clerk. Although the guy was clearly a shoplifter, the clerk continued to call him "Honored customer! Honored customer! Honored customer!" right up until the moment he tackled the thief, knocked him to the ground, and dragged him back to the store.

So why -- of all the titles we could have imported along with Aikido -- has only the term "sensei" survived in most dojos? And what has it become in the context of American culture, where no one has a title of any kind in normal speech, except maybe "asshole?"

I would argue that "sensei" has become transformed in the translation to something with little resemblance to its origin as a title of respect. In the US, we have bundled together all our half-baked stereotypes of samurai, Zen masters, Shaolin monks, Yoda from Star Wars, Freudian analysts and drill instructors, called it a "sensei"-- and come up with our own version of squid pizza.

By giving a teacher the title of "sensei," Aikidoka in non-hierarchical countries like the US tends to immediately set up an arbitrary distinction between teacher and student, which translates in our culture to a divide between power and weakness, mastery and ignorance.

As a result, a sensei in the US has in some cases become a godlike figure of power and authority. And, sadly, in a number of cases American teachers have used the power of being a "sensei" to manipulate and abuse their students. Conversely, weak-minded students can use their worship of a "sensei" to abdicate responsibility for their lives, their bodies and their training.

Some countries seek to reproduce Japanese culture as exactly as they can. However, Japanese Aikidoka who visit these dojos frequently come back shocked and somewhat appalled at finding foreigners playacting as samurai and mimicking what many see as the worst aspects of Japanese culture: repression and mindless discipline.

So what do we do about this problem? How can we bring Aikido into different cultures without warping the original intent and giving weak individuals opportunities to abuse and be abused? Although I don’t claim to have any answers, my experiences in Japan have exposed me to many different approaches to the challenges of adapting Aikido to other cultures.

Personally, I must say I have come to appreciate one approach taken in Finland. In Finland, the Aikidoka got together as a group and decided they wanted to reflect the values of their own culture in their training and organization. They frequently invite Japanese teachers to visit and give seminars, and individual practitioners often visit Japan -- proportionately at a greater rate than many other countries. But Aikido as it is practiced in Finland does not try to imitate Japanese culture.

Is that the answer? I don't know. But perhaps it is time for Aikidoka worldwide to let go of some of their fantasies about Japanese culture, spend some serious time here and consciously decide what should be imported and what should be left at the border.

In the study of Aikido, not only is it is not mandatory to blindly emulate Japanese customs and culture mandatory, but it can be unintelligent and immature. On the other hand, it is reasonable and enriching to do so in a way that is based on understanding and knowledge