Aikido and Rhetoric: Practice

Instructors can impart only a fraction of the teaching. It is through your own devoted practice that the mysteries of the Art of Peace are brought to life.

Morihei Ueshiba, The Art of Peace

I say to them that if they are to excel in oratory or in managing affairs or in any line of work, they must, first of all, have a natural aptitude for that which they have elected to do; secondly, they must submit to training and master the knowledge of their particular subject, whatever it may be in each case; and, finally, they must become versed and practised in the use and application of their art; for only on these conditions can they become fully competent and pre-eminent in any line of endeavor.

Isocrates, Antidosis 15.187

The words that Isocrates uses for practice here are ones we’ve already talked about: entribeis means to rub in or hone by polishing; gymnasthenai means to train, as in a gymnasium. Aikido and rhetoric share this common stance: that you have to do the art to know it. I.e., I can know that asking questions is a better way to resolve a conflict than stating my case (again), but until I actually practice that, over and over, I can’t prove I know it. I can nod when my sensei asks me if I know shomenuchi iriminage, but I won’t pass the test for 3rd kyu until he sees me successfully perform the technique. This concept flies in the face of the classic Western division between the vita contemplativa and the vita activa. And it’s exactly why Plato maintained (at least early in his career) that rhetoric wasn’t an art: he was looking for a valuable body of knowledge to contemplate; what he found instead was a lot more like a recipe that needed to be acted out to produce value. The basic word for aikido training is keiko (稽古), which actually comes closer to meaning “study” and thus captures in two characters the doing/knowing paradox that was so perplexing to Plato.