First, since its foundation in 1976, the IAF has provided a means by which aikidoists from all over the world can meet together and practise the art under the direction of high-ranking teachers, especially those having a direct connection with the Aikikai Hombu.

Secondly, the IAF has provided a forum in which aikido organisations affiliated to the Aikikai can meet in a spirit of friendship and discuss matters of common interest.

Thirdly, it has provided a forum for reasoned discussion between these aikido organisations and shihans, whether Japanese or non-Japanese, who are affiliated to the Aikikai Hombu and reside abroad.

Fourthly, and very importantly, the IAF has, through its congresses and other meetings, provided a means of official communication between aikido organisations and the Aikikai Hombu.

Fifthly, through its member federations and especially its European continental federation, it has helped to sow the seeds of aikido on new ground: to introduce and spread the art in countries where previously it did not exist.

Sixthly, the IAF has engaged in official contacts with various international sports organisations and has thus shown the face of aikido in places where the art risks being misunderstood, since it does not hold competitions and is thus not a sport in this commonly-recognised sense.

Finally, the IAF's status as a recognised international federation has enabled some its member federations to gain recognition from their own government authorities. Not all members need such recognition, but a significant number do.

When the IAF is mentioned in some quarters, an air of desperation sometimes descends on the discussion and I am asked, as Chairman, what is going to happen to the federation. Of course, it will continue -- it must continue -- and I hope it will continue to flourish.

I think that the IAF is a pioneering organisation in many respects. It is attempting to do something never before attempted, namely, to be a worldwide federation which combines two distinct patterns of organisation: a vertically structured pattern, since aikido is a martial art; and a horizontally structured pattern, since the IAF is democratic. Nevertheless, a fundamental aim the IAF is also to retain, or, rather, protect, the original essence of the martial art. Furthermore, the IAF is an organisation which has probably not yet reached a form best suited to its aims and objectives. Certainly, the present organisational structure is not something set in stone. However, the fact that many aikido organisations want to join the IAF, despite the recent departure of one member, and the fact that there is much discussion, even vigorous argument, about what form the IAF should have does not, in my opinion, presage its impending death. Rather, it is a sign of health and vigour -- and a reason for optimism. Of course, some people want quick results and if these results are not forthcoming, they immediately conclude that there is no future in the federation. I think that this attitude is rather short-sighted.

Rather than glib condemnation of the I.A.F. for failing to conform to certain preconceived ideas, I think that there is a need for some serious reflection on the problems which will face aikido, and especially the Aikikai Hombu, during the next century. I believe that as more and more non-Japanese gain high ranks and become aikido shihans, the balance will inevitably shift away from Japan to the rest of the world. It will then become even more essential than it is now to have an international aikido organisation capable of supporting the growth of aikido while also retaining its essential Japanese heritage. To find a suitable organisational structure, which is -- like the ideal aikidoist -- well-centred, balanced, mentally and physically supple, and possessed of a certain practical wisdom, is not something which can be achieved quickly.

Of course, the Aikikai Hombu is a Japanese organisation and I think it is not possible to disagree with the general thesis that Japanese organisations tend to function differently from those in the ‘west'. (NOTE: In this essay, I have put ‘west' and ‘western' in quotation marks because I think it is an artificial concept, used by the Japanese to lump together the cultures in a certain geographical location. The contrast between ‘Japanese' and so-called ‘western' cultures, the latter always lumped together in one general category, invariably fails to take account of the important differences among the ‘western' cultures and I believe this fact is of great importance for aikido and the IAF.) Whether the difference centres simply on autocracy vs. democracy is a debatable point. I think that there is much more to it than this. The suggestion that organisations in Japan, especially martial arts organisations, tend to be autocratic, whereas those in the west tend to democratic, might be illuminating for those who do have little understanding of Japanese culture, but it will ignore much that is of importance for the proper understanding of the actual development and existing organisational structure of aikido. The danger in making the above distinction is that it adopts a rather simple model (Japanese organisations = autocracy; western organisations = democracy) and then concludes that the IAF does not fit this model and thus somehow fails. I think that the basic issue facing the IAF is not simply whether its organisational structure is democratic or autocratic, but rather what sort of aims and structure it, or any other cross-cultural aikido organisation, should have and how these aims can be accomplished.

The structure of the organisation is just one of the problems facing contemporary martial arts organisations. The rise of the Olympic movement, with its current emphasis on telegenic, visually attractive, competitive sports, and subsequent heavy dependence on lucrative financial deals with the media, has also had an effect on the martial arts and will certainly affect the development of aikido. Judo, kendo and karate have become international sports, with the emphasis on ‘western'-style competition, and the organisations have also become ‘western' in the sense alluded to above. The original Japanese martial arts are now of relatively minor significance and there is good reason to believe that these sports have actually lost their Japanese roots. One cannot fail to wonder whether the same will happen to aikido -- and whether this matters.

I had originally planned to write this essay, not as the current IAF chairman, but as an aikidoist with some 30 years of experience who has also spent nearly 20 years teaching philosophy and comparative culture in a Japanese university. But this is not really possible. When discussing the IAF, I cannot simply ignore the fact that I happen to be the present leader of the federation. Nevertheless, I would like to supplement the above defence of the IAF with some individual reflections of a more philosophical nature on the general nature of martial arts organisations and the problems facing them. I will conclude with some more extended comments on the IAF as an organisation.

1. A remarkable person, who has great ‘charisma' attracts disciples in virtue of particular exploits or abilities, such as the creation of a new way of looking at the world rooted in a particular practice or activity. (‘Charisma' is perhaps not the best term to convey both the person's magnetism and also the attractiveness of the ‘message'. I intend the term to be noncontroversial and morally neutral. It simply denotes whatever physical or spiritual qualities the person has which attracts disciples. Thus ‘charisma' is something possessed by people like Christ, Gandhi, and Mother Teresa, as well as less desirable types such as Asahara Shoko, the leader of the Japanese Aum Shinrikyo group, currently on trial for mass murder by poisoned gas.) The disciples enter into a relationship with the person, but this relationship does not involve intimate knowledge on the basis of equality. Of course, the disciples have very close daily contact, since the relationship involves living together and sharing the same general lifestyle, but the charismatic leader is always someone ‘other', and never an ‘ordinary' person. The disciples may have various reasons of their own for following this person, but one of the reasons they all share is the sheer ‘charisma' he possesses. The students become disciples because they believe that the person possesses what they are seeking for and that they can share in it. Thus the mission, or art -- the particular type of activity or practice created or expounded by the leader -- is the fundamental basis of the relationship.

It is important to notice here that the leader of the group has a teacher-pupil relationship with each of his disciples, but the relationship is different in each case. The relationship differs according to personal chemistry and also to the degree to which the disciple understands the art. It should also be noticed that, since the art or activity is open-ended -- in the sense that it admits of differing degrees of progress or accomplishment over a (usually long) period of time, such different relationships might well depend on the degree of commitment from the disciples. Thus, even as a single organism, the group has several tiers, rather like concentric rings organised round the founder at the centre. Those in the rings closest to the centre have the greatest commitment; for those at the periphery such commitment is difficult or impossible, and they practise the art or activity to the best of their ability. The differing degrees of commitment will surely become a major factor in the subsequent development of the art, but one of the marks of the relationship with the founder, even for those at the periphery, can be characterised as an intense and personal loyalty.

2. The art becomes known and attracts more and more people. Accordingly, several crucial decisions have to be made, either by the founder or by the more perceptive disciples.

(a) The first choice is whether to expand. The original group was a single organism gathered round the leader -- the disciples might think of it as a family and the bonds between leader and disciples might well be stronger than family ties. However, as the group expands, it becomes more and more difficult for the increasing numbers of disciples to enjoy continuous and unbroken direct contact with the leader and his/her ‘charisma'. Thus the group develops from being merely a single gathering of individuals around a leader and becomes an organisation. The fact that the art which he/she has created has great and lasting value -- i.e., the value of the art and the benefits which it affords should not be allowed to disappear with the death of the founder -- will usually ensure that the decision is made to continue the art. However, the fact that ever increasing numbers of aspirants will make close daily contact with the founder impossible becomes a fundamental problem.

(b) Another choice is how rapidly to expand. The transmission of the founder's ‘charisma' is entirely dependent on the availability of disciples who are qualified to undertake the task of following in the founder's footsteps and passing on his ‘charisma': surely a daunting undertaking. The creation of an ‘inner group', which will bear the main burden of passing on founder's ‘charisma', is assuredly an essential factor here, regardless of the ‘western' or ‘non-western' character of the organisation.

(c) The third choice is how to expand. Since the founder's ‘charisma' is based on the practice of a particular activity which he or she created, the practice admits of varying degrees of knowledge or proficiency, with the founder having the highest possible level. As the group expands and as direct contact with the founder diminishes, a way has to be found of transmitting the founder's ‘charisma' to the newer members of the group, who have not had this apparently essential close and continuous contact with the founder. Thus, the need arises for a systematised method of passing on the founder's ‘charisma' and for recognising those who are thought to possess it. In some cases, this system is a set of rules of conduct, sometimes personally drawn up by the founder, adherence to which is supposed to form some kind of guarantee that the disciples will achieve a similar ‘charismatic' state. In this case, the rules themselves define the purpose of the organisation. In other cases, practice of the art or activity itself is the defining purpose of the group and the set of rules constitutes a system for recognising levels of proficiency in the art, it being somehow understood that the higher the level, the greater is the possible access to the founder's ‘charisma'. The system can be either a set of grades of proficiency (X has reached a certain level of proficiency), or of teaching licenses (X is officially qualified to teach certain techniques -- or reveal certain ‘secrets'). Of course, those who were original disciples of the founder will tend to have higher grades, or to be able to teach the entire range of techniques. Whatever the activity, the more experienced members of the group will be teachers of the less experienced and will perhaps become officially recognised as such.

2. 1. The transformation of the organisation from one small group gathered around its founder to something larger is the point when fundamental differences of organisation tend to appear. A ‘western' approach is to have a system of rules and this fits in very well with the western devotion to abstract principles considered to have a general or universal application. (Examples could be the rules which govern the activities of some Christian religious orders.) A potential problem with this approach is that the rules themselves might become the defining aim of the organisation, rather than what following the rules is supposed to lead to. Thus, the organisation tends to ‘ossify'. An ‘oriental' approach is to leave everything in the hands of the individuals who lead the various parts of the organisation, rather than to rely on the system of rules itself. A potential problem with this approach is that it assumes that all the disciples will be able to replicate the founder's ‘charisma' simply on the basis of the training they have received, i.e., it places a very heavy responsibility on the shoulders of certain individuals who, of course, do not have any system of rules to guide them. These problems might become very acute and prominent, where a disciple of an ‘oriental' art attempts to teach it to non-orientals, who expect a system of abstract and objective rules.

2. 2. It is worth noticing here that in cases where the aim of the organisation is to practice a certain activity or art, a system for recognising proficiency is not intrinsic to the art itself, for it is quite possible to become highly proficient in the art without obtaining grades or licenses. It rests more on the quite separate belief that the art embodies goals which admit of objective measurement and that such a system of objective measurement is desirable or essential in an organisation, for not all prospective members are capable of distinguishing between genuine practitioners of the art and charlatans. However, the differences of approach alluded to above are also relevant here. The ‘western' approach will place greater stress on the rules which have to be followed, or the conditions which have to be fulfilled, for recognising particular levels of proficiency and these levels will have an ‘objective' validity throughout the organisation. The ‘oriental' approach will place greater stress on the fact that the grade or license has been given by a particular person and its ‘objective validity' will have less importance than the fact that it has been given by this person. Both approaches have drawbacks which are likely to become evident in an organisation which tries to combine the two.

3. Despite the undoubted fact that they have actually attained various levels of proficiency, the disciples go out and create their own ‘replica' groups, sometimes with the active encouragement of the founder. The replica groups operate on the quite reasonable basis that, e.g., "I was taught personally by the founder and have a mission to pass on to others the vision he/she has afforded me and the skills that he/she taught me". There is an assumption -- usually stated -- that the disciples have a (close or even intimate) relationship with the founder, and usually a (high) level of skill based on this relationship, that others do not possess. There is also an assumption -- usually left unstated -- that each disciple has a different perception of the founder's vision and perhaps a different level of skill. Thus, a whole group of satellite groups or groups of groups emerges, whose function is to transmit to the members the vision afforded by the founder to the particular disciple who leads the group, or, rather, the content of the disciple's understanding of this particular vision. The disciples tend to model these organisations on their experience of the original group. The effect is a whole group of miniature ‘original' organisations, all claiming to be ‘authentic' in some way. Of course, the outsider might well assume that they are all working in harmony and this might indeed be the stated ideal, but the unstated reality is sometimes quite the reverse.

3. 1. In such an organisation, the presence or absence of any system of universally binding rules has the potential for creating severe problems. Each satellite group focuses on the disciple's understanding of the particular vision afforded to him/her by the founder, and any entrant to the group will practise the art in accordance with the parameters defined by that disciple's interpretation of the founder's vision. The effect is to induce a kind of ‘tunnel-vision' or clannishness. The responsibility placed on the shoulders of the individual disciple leads to undue emphasis on his or her particular interpretation of the founder's vision. The channels along which understanding of the founder's vision is supposed to run are vertical -- from the founder, to first-generation disciple, to second-generation disciple etc. The neophytes in the organisation are supposed to commit themselves wholeheartedly to the particular disciple they have chosen, for he/she has a direct link with the founder and thus has the answers. They are never encouraged to wander from one group to another. One of the less welcome consequences of this multiplicity of vertically-structured ‘satellite' groups is that they tend to see themselves in competition with each other. Being a student of A's group, the practitioner is taught to feel that B and C have nothing to offer. They might, of course, be very good, but they are not A. The clannishness is occasionally given a mystical flavour, with some disciples arguing that finding the right teacher is an all-important task, probably of equal importance to that of pursuing the art at all. (Such clannishness or factionalism is a common feature of a vertically-structured society like Japan's, where there is a special term for it. Habatsu-shugi exists in all spheres and at all levels of Japanese society and it especially flourishes in the martial arts.)

4. The founder is unfortunately mortal and has to provide for the continued existence of the group or organisation. A successor has to be designated. There are various ways of choosing a successor, which correspond with the level of autocracy in the organisation: the founder's enlightened (but arbitrary) choice of a successor; a fight to the death of his disciples (a proven method which ceased to be socially acceptable many centuries ago); the automatic succession of the oldest son in the founder's family; an election by an ‘electoral college' of the most senior disciples; or an election by all the disciples regardless of rank. Since the transmission of the art is supposed to have the highest priority, all the ways have to make assumptions of one kind of another. For example, an assumption behind the third way would be that the son has inherited the founder's vision and can transmit this vision in a better way than any of the other disciples. The history of the martial arts in Japan has demonstrated quite clearly that this assumption is not always borne out in practice. The last two ways represent increasingly ‘democratic' ways of passing on the ‘charisma', but also assume that many other people apart from the founder and the closest disciples are able to make enlightened decisions.

5. At some point, the founder or his chosen successor creates a system for defining the limits of the new organisation and the disciples then have a choice to make: to join the organisation or to remain outside it. Once the organisation, as defined, is created, the levels of proficiency are controlled by the organisation. The ostensible aim is to transmit the ‘charisma' possessed by the founder, but also to authenticate it: to distinguish ‘true' charisma from its false imitations. If the organisation is ‘western' in spirit, the development of the ‘charisma' will depend on the nature and flexibility of the fundamental rules governing the development of proficiency within the organisation. If the organisation is ‘oriental' in spirit, the development of the ‘charisma' will depend on wise decisions made in choosing the disciples. Given the essentially fluid structure both of the organisation itself and of the ways of determining the levels of proficiency within it, there is an inevitable tension between the organisation itself and the ‘charisma' which it is supposed to transmit. Of course, the founder and his successors act from the purest of motives, but the tendency for the organisational channels which transmit the ‘charisma' to become progressively restrictive is inevitable. Certainly no organisation, to my knowledge, has ever solved this dilemma successfully and those that have flourished as worldwide organisations have undergone periodic reform or revolution.

5. 1. In some cases, the process for defining the limits of the organisation also involves establishing relationships with outside bodies, such as education or sports ministries and other national organisations. This will depend on the political structure of the particular country, but it is probably safe to assume that there are very few countries where a ‘charismatic' organisation which attracts a large number of members and operates on a nationwide or worldwide scale will be allowed to flourish without any interference. At the very least, the organisation will have to be established on a legal basis and this establishment might also have to conform to a complex set of cultural norms.

6. It is about at this point that the question might arise of creating a worldwide federation such as the IAF. The art is flourishing, in the sense that many people practise it, and there are worldwide networks of satellite organisations & groups, but there is also much splintering and fragmentation. As I have tried to show by the above hypothetical sketch, the success of a worldwide organisation dedicated to nurturing and spreading the ‘charisma' of a single individual will depend on wise choices made at a much earlier stage of development.

Now it might be true that the main motivations for creating aikido organisations are to exercise control and to obtain a source of income, perhaps for the founder's family. However, I think that the progress from a small band of disciples to a fully-fledged organisation (note that this happens in order to transmit a vision, or an art) is far less cold and calculating. It is certainly culture-based, in the sense that the founder will usually create an organisation based on the culture in which he or she was brought up, even if the vision itself has a universal application. Thus, the early history of aikido both inside and outside of Japan is the history of the halting and unorganised development of embryonic groups based on the original pattern. The groups were created by first or second generation disciples of the founder, who received no preparation for these tasks other than their training in the art. I have lived in Japan long enough to realise that most Japanese are totally unprepared by their education for prolonged and intense exposure to other cultures and this problem is an enduring legacy of the two centuries of sakoku -- forced seclusion in the Edo period. The ‘culture shock' of university students who do go abroad to continue their academic careers is severe enough, but they have supposedly had four years of preparation in their universities -- institutions most likely to feel the effects of cultural exchange. Much greater will be the shock of disciples who have been sent abroad to create ‘replica' aikido organisations, whose only preparation has been severe training in the intense but narrow cultural confines of the dojo.

I have tried to show that the question whether a martial arts organisations succeeds -- fulfils its aims -- is very difficult to answer. For example, in one sense the Aikikai Hombu is a very successful martial arts organisation, for both inside and outside Japan the art, as inherited by Doshu and developed and interpreted by him, is flourishing. On the other hand, the disciples of the founder went off to create their own dojos and these also developed into fully-fledged organisations. Thus the aikido world very early on split into groups -- competing groups, even during the founder's lifetime. It is important to realise that this fragmentation of aikido happened in Japan, the ‘mother' country, and not only abroad. So, in another sense the Aikikai Hombu has failed to maintain unity in aikido and the question whether such unity is possible is a valid question, which needs to be considered very carefully. The question is especially relevant for the IAF, since the federation has been criticised for failing to achieve its stated aim of maintaining unity in the aikido world. I will return to this important question below.

Furthermore, as I have suggested above, the success of an organisation which emphasises an unbroken vertical line between the founder and the current head of the dojo or organisation depends on the constant supply of able people who are willing to sacrifice themselves for a particular vision. I believe that it is extremely unlikely that the Aikikai Hombu will be able to rely on a steady stream of young instructors willing and able to reside overseas and teach aikido. Thus, when the present generation of overseas Japanese shihans passes away, their replacements will have to come from within the countries where they have been teaching. (At this point it will also become clear to what extent these Japanese shihans have been successful in building a suitable organisational structure, which will ensure the development of aikido in their adopted countries.) In the next fifty years, the Japanese aikido shihan residing overseas will become an increasingly rare figure and aikido will be in the hands of non-Japanese instructors, aided by occasional visits -- at summer schools and international congresses -- from the instructors sent by the Aikikai Hombu in Japan. This, however, assumes that the Aikikai Hombu and other dojos in Japan will be successful in attracting a constant supply of able recruits. If the martial arts clubs in Japanese universities are any indication, this certainly cannot be taken for granted.

For example, I do not believe that Japan is a truly democratic society. By this I mean a society in which the members conceive of themselves as individuals with certain responsibilities and rights, who are able to choose representatives by vote and also to have a direct influence on the policy made by these representatives. Of course, this is democracy in a ‘western' sense, but I do not believe that there is any other sense of the word. I do not intend any disrespect to Japanese, or those who believe in ‘Asian values', by the above observation and I consider that the comment recently made in a magazine about martial arts organisations, "In a martial arts context, the Japanese naturally set up an autocratic structure controlled by a small inner group that supports a central figure." is true. However, as I have stated above, to call Japanese society autocratic without some important qualifications risks misunderstanding by many non-Japanese. A democratic organisation of the ‘western' sort rests on a set of unstated abstract principles about the individual. The Japanese do not operate on such principles. Nevertheless, a non-democratic society such as Japan's rests on a very important general principal of harmony and even in such a supposedly autocratic structure, if it really follows the Japanese pattern, those who have the power have an obligation to take account of the feelings, if not the articulated views, of those who do not. This relationship between the sempai (senior) and kohai (junior) is firmly embedded in the cultural fabric of Japan. It is taught to all Japanese from around junior-high school age onwards (around the age of 12), but there are no formal rules stating what these mutual obligations consist in. Of course, the sentiment expressed in the same magazine, namely, "those who do not conform either leave or are ostracised from the group", is also true, but the important point is that these persons never constitute a majority of the group. The power holders will always ensure that the general principle of harmony will prevail and will try to evolve a consensus which takes account of as many views as possible. If the minority ever became a majority, the organisation would either cease to function or undergo radical change.

The autocratic style of organisation, which is rather repressive of individual views, can be compared with the style supposedly favoured by ‘westerners', which places greater stress upon the individual viewpoint. But, as I have implied above, very many aikido organisations in the ‘west' have been created by Japanese disciples of the founder, who have created organisations based on their own (Japanese) experience. The first dojo of which I became a member, in Britain, was controlled by the Japanese instructor. The organisation was totally autocratic, in the sense that there were never any decisions reached by a consensus of all the members. Our instructor did everything because we were total beginners and had no idea how to organise a dojo. As we practised more, we developed a general idea of what a dojo should be like. However, we never felt that we were at the mercy of an autocrat and there was never any jarring of the general atmosphere of harmony and pursuit of a common aim. Friendships formed in that dojo, nearly 30 years ago, still continue to flourish today. The second dojo where I practised on a regular basis was controlled to an even greater degree by the resident Japanese instructor. His policies were accepted without any question, though it has to be admitted that many of the other aikido groups in the country were run by ex-students of this particular instructor, or by non-students who had no particular desire for any contact with him. There was a similar pattern in the U.S.A. The shihan surrounded himself with a small group of the more senior ranked students and the rank and file students simply accepted the situation with reactions ranging from bright-eyed adulation to sullen resignation. Where there is no resident Japanese shihan (in countries like Sweden, Norway, the Netherlands and many other members of the IAF), then the organisation tends to be more democratic, but this is usually because there is no one of shihan rank, or even because the resident Japanese shihan was not successful.

The IAF was created in response to an initiative from Europe. Before the IAF there was an organisation in Europe called the ACEA (Association Culturelle Européenne d'Aikido), which later became the EAF (European Aikido Federation). Many of the members of this European Aikido Federation were aikido sections of judo organisations, wherein most of the power was firmly in the hands of the judoists. I do not think that the decision to put aikido under the protection of judo was free of controversy in the Aikikai Hombu, but I certainly do think there was something to be said for it. Mr. Nobuyoshi Tamura, who was the first Japanese representative of the Aikikai to reside in Europe, probably felt that judo groups could provide good organisational support for what was a new and unknown martial art. However, it is a curious fact that this example was not followed by any other Japanese Aikido instructor who went to reside abroad and teach aikido. I want to stress that I am not saying that Tamura Shihan was wrong to attach his aikido organisations to judo. It is well-known that Japanese judoka were instrumental in introducing aikido to Europeans and thus many European judoists also practised aikido. It might have seemed the natural thing to do at the time. It was also a courageous decision, since, for the first time, Tamura Shihan tried to take account of the cultural attitudes of the people he had been sent to teach.

The IAF was actually founded in 1976 in Tokyo, though the original founding meeting was held in Spain in 1975. It has been suggested that very important structural problems arose at the very first Congress in 1976. Basically the problems were these: the Japanese accepted the IAF basically as a ‘western' arm of the Aikikai Hombu. The federation would have a democratic flavour, but would actually be controlled by the Japanese (this was a reasonable viewpoint, since very few ‘westerners' had achieved high dan ranks in the art. However, some politically acute delegates from Europe attempted to wrest control from the Japanese and make the IAF a truly democratic organisation. The Aikikai Hombu were not prepared for this and the attempt was sabotaged. The IAF was left as a federation with a blend of Japanese and ‘western' features. I am not qualified to comment on the first two congresses of the IAF, but some very important issues arose at the 3rd IAF Congress, held in Paris in 1980. As I have suggested above, the spread of aikido abroad was culture-based and in many cases the Japanese shihan established an organisation that was nationally based, with a name like The Aikikai of Great Britain. The congress was the scene of a major conflict within European aikido over an apparently simple issue: what is a ‘national' aikido organisation? The IAF statutes unfortunately do not define this term, since they did not need to do so when the federation was founded. At that time, everything was in ‘harmony' and there was only one aikido organisation in each country, namely, the one created by the Japanese instructor and recognised by the Aikikai. (The USA, because of its size, did not have this system and the rather complex situation in Japan also escaped attention.) Alas, this problem of definition was related to another, more fundamental, problem concerning aikido's independence from judo and this problem was one of the unforeseen consequences of the fact that Mr Tamura's aikido organisations were under judo control. Independent aikido organisations in Holland and Spain wanted recognition from the Aikikai Hombu, and also membership of the IAF, in preference to the established aikido department of the national judo organisation. The Paris Congress could not make any real progress because there was no clear decision on who had the power to vote. Since the 1980 Congress the split in Holland between judo based and non-judo based aikido organisations spread to France and Mr Tamura lost about half of his students. As far as I know, the Aikikai organisations in France are now independent of judo, but the division into two large groups still remains.

It is important to understand the issues which arose at the 3rd IAF Congress. First, the issue which paralysed the Congress was a European issue and one which had split the European Aikido Federation. Between 1978 and 1980 there had been a grassroots revolt against excessive judo domination in the EAF. In this case the Japanese instructors living in Europe generally remained on the sidelines. However, the dispute caused a crisis in one of its sub-federations which the IAF was in no position to deal with. The founders had probably never imagined that such conflicts could occur in an aikido organisation. ("After all, aikido is all about harmony, isn't it.") Certainly the Aikikai Hombu were taken by surprise at the force of the dispute and had no idea what to do. One might argue that they should have known that this would happen because disputes in some form or other have existed ever since martial arts schools were created and the seeds for these disputes lie, as I suggested above in my earlier sketch, in the vertical organisation of the martial arts, with its emphasis on the unbroken line between the founder and the current the head of the dojo, rather than on a framework of rules or procedures.

The second point to note is that, while the Japanese in Europe generally remained on the sidelines during the crisis within the European Aikido Federation, there was a parallel dispute within the Aikikai Hombu itself about the official recognition of overseas aikido organisations with judo groups: should the Aikikai Hombu recognise an independent group in a country, when there was also a judo-affiliated group. Now it is commonly supposed that only non-Japanese, or only Europeans, have disputes about aikido and this might be something that Japanese teachers like to stress, for the picture of Japanese senseis squabbling over a Japanese martial art that is supposed to bring peace and harmony rings somewhat hollow. However, this is not really true. At the time of the dispute within the EAF, the Japanese instructors in Europe affiliated to the Aikikai Hombu also revolted en masse against Mr. Tamura's leadership and this Japanese revolt also profoundly shook the Aikikai Hombu. The point I want to stress here is that the problems which faced the IAF in 1980 and after can be seen as a consequence of disputes within the Aikikai Hombu concerning the recognition of aikido organisations overseas. They were not created solely by the European aikidoists themselves.

Finally, the dispute was not merely about something discussed at the supposedly ethereal heights of an international congress, but reached right down to the local dojo, for it concerned qualifications for dan grades and teaching diplomas. There was a possibility that aikido instructors in some countries would also have to have grades in judo or karate. The U.S.A. (and also Japan) is very lucky in that few restrictions are placed on the martial arts by the national government. Anyone can open a dojo and issue his/her own dan grades (which actually might be worth no more than the paper they are written on). The situation is quite different in some European countries , with governments laying down precise regulations about examinations and dan grades. France has a system of national dan grades and no one may teach aikido in a municipally-owned dojo without a state diploma. Someone might receive a dan grade in France and later find that it is recognised only in that country. In the UK no one may teach in a municipally-owned dojo without a national coaching qualification. With the rise of the European Union (EU), such government interference is likely to increase, rather than decrease.

Many aikidoists have the feeling that they can ‘just get on with practise' and that aikido ‘politics' (i.e., worrying about the organisation of the dojo and its relation with outside bodies) is an undesirable and largely unnecessary business which can be left to those who are good at talking, or who like that sort of thing, the implication being that they are not really true aikidoists. I think this attitude is rather naive and in my own experience of aikido in three different countries, I have found that ‘political' issues are never far away from the tatami. Questions about the organisation of one's own dojo, or the affiliation of that dojo to a national or international federation, or the registration of one's grade and its international standing, are often debated and not just outside Japan.

It has been stated that the IAF is still attempting to agree on a constitution. This is not really true, for the federation has had a constitution since it was created and this was approved by all the founder members in 1976. With a few minor alterations it is still in force. However, the problems which arose during the 1980 IAF Congress showed that the I.A.F. Statutes are in need of overhaul. Work to revise the IAF Statutes has been going on since about 1984. The process is taking time because IAF congresses meet only once every four years and also because there is no consensus, either within the Aikikai Hombu or within the present IAF membership, concerning crucial questions about the nature and roles of aikido organisations, especially overseas organisations. I doubt that these questions were ever seriously discussed when the federation was created and they were certainly not settled. Now they have arisen again and have to be settled in the best way possible.
I hope that the 8th IAF Congress, to be held in 2000, will be able to approve a new -- and more flexible -- constitution for the federation. Nevertheless, I must stress that the decisions concerning the Statutes will be made by the IAF member organisations themselves, not by the Aikikai Hombu, and in a democratic way.

People sometimes complain that people use the IAF for their own purposes and that IAF congresses tend to be occasions for people to dispute and reveal their thirst for power. Some have even questioned the need for the IAF, seen as a so-called ‘democratic' federation of aikido organisations -- surely a contradiction in terms. Why not leave everything to the Hombu's international department? I do not think matters are quite so simple. For one thing, very few of the IAF member federations have actually brought disputes to a congress. The disputes that have been discussed involved problems consequent on recognition by the Aikikai Hombu in one or two European countries. For another thing, I do not think that aikido is a kind of moral panacea for the world's ills. I have always been taught that the art offers a way to sometimes scorching self-honesty, but it is not an automatic path to sainthood, either in Japan or abroad. I think that there will always be people who practise the martial arts for the wrong reasons and the IAF is certainly not in the business of checking the moral credentials of those who practise aikido. For yet another thing, the rapid expansion of aikido overseas -- and in the form of organisations -- is a fact, which carries with it certain consequences. One is that the international organisation of aikido no longer fits the traditional Japanese model, for the overseas organisations are also culture-based. The resident Japanese instructors have had to adapt to the host culture and this is one of the reasons which led to the creation of European aikido associations like the ACEA and the EAF. This is obvious as soon as one considers the question of recognition by a national or regional government. As I have stated above, the USA is very free, but certain other countries insist that martial arts organisations must have a democratic structure and must also belong to an international federation. To go back and place all international matters in the hands of the Hombu would not solve the problem, even if the Hombu had the human resources to look after all aspects of overseas aikido. The late Shirata Rinjiro Shihan once commented at an IAF congress that, whereas the Aikikai Hombu was a vertically-based organisation, the IAF was horizontally-based. He certainly never said that the two were in conflict. I would like to turn Shirata Sensei's comment the other way round. I think the IAF will always be a ‘horizontally-structured' organisation, with all the members on an equal footing. However, the Aikikai Hombu is vertically-structured by its very nature as a Japanese martial arts school. The Hombu's international department could never function as a horizontally-structured international federation.

As I see it, one of the fundamental aims of the IAF is to be a forum, where the representatives of aikido organisations can meet, as fellow aikidoists, and discuss matters of common interest, such discussion always punctuated by intensive aikido training. I think that the 7th IAF Congress, held in Katsuura, Japan, was a good example of discussion interspersed with practice. Another very important aim is to give the Aikikai Hombu some considered feedback. It is important to realise that the IAF is not, and never has been, a part of the Aikikai Hombu. Thus complaints that the IAF is separating itself from the Hombu are misconceived. Despite its very close association with the Hombu, it has always been a separate organisation. Nevertheless, the position of the Aikikai Hombu at the top of a pyramid structure makes it very difficult for it to hear the views of those at the bottom. As I have stated above, in Japanese society in general these views are considered, but the sempai - kohai system is not an essential part of aikido, certainly not overseas aikido.

Like the Olympic movement, the world of aikido has often been compared to a family. This comparison has become increasingly tenuous as we move into the 21st century, with the rise of divorce, one-parent families, wife-beating etc., but in any case it is not often pushed very far. Families tend to have siblings and disputes both among siblings and between siblings and their parents seem to be an essential feature of any family. It is a fact so obvious to anyone who has practised the martial arts for any length of time that (1) disputes and conflicts occur in any dojo and have probably occurred ever since the martial arts were first practised in dojos, but also (2) that there seems no way of resolving them. The fact is remarkable, for the martial arts -- and especially aikido, which is a ‘Way', rather than a mere fighting skill -- stand at the very apex of conflict resolution, but seem to be singularly unable to offer equally enlightened ways of resolving such conflicts at the level of organisation, be this ‘autocratic' or ‘democratic'.

That there are such conflicts is undeniable. For example, during my aikido career I have been struck by the fact that very many disputes occur over dan grades. A common source of complaint is the relative ease with which dan grades are obtainable in certain organisations. Sensei A, for example, is known to be very severe, whereas Sensei B's examinations seem much less difficult. Problems with grading usually constitute the main reason why aikido organisations fragment and splinter and this usually comes as a complete revelation to those innocent aikioists who practise the art because it offers peace and harmony. Another revelation is the special treatment of Japanese university students. It is a common custom in Japan for students of university aikido clubs affiliated to the Aikikai to receive their 2nd dan by the time they graduate, that is, in their FOURTH year of aikido practice. At the very least one might wonder why this is so. My own students at Hiroshima University are astonished to be told that it takes their overseas contemporaries about eight years to obtain 2nd dan. Of course, I have heard all the arguments: that students practise hard everyday, and especially the argument that a grade is an expression of an intimate (and ‘vertical') relationship between the student and his teacher etc. etc., but this is also the case in other countries, like France, for example. In France, a student's grade might well be the expression of a ‘vertical' relationship with a certain teacher, but it is also the result of an examination that is of the same level of difficulty all over the country. A grade is an objective measure of one's ability and this is why they are numbered from 1 upwards. Furthermore, many of the disputes which have arisen in aikido concerning grades resulting from one instructor going into another instructor's ‘territory' without being asked and holding examinations there, or by a resident instructor having his allegedly ‘easy' grades recognised by the Aikikai.

Now if the above questions are raised at a congress, as they might well be, anger is sometimes expressed in certain quarters that these are ‘internal' problems, which should not be discussed in a general forum. Grades are supposed to be the particular prerogative of the Aikikai Hombu and its accredited instructors, but this is to miss the point. Such problems exists and to dismiss them as ‘internal' is an evasion of responsibility.

Of course, I am not saying that the IAF should necessarily involve itself with grades, or become a kind of court, or that its main function should be to solve disputes. What I am saying is that aikido is a living, breathing art and that conflicts occur. This fact should be recognised. Conflicts cannot simply be pushed under the tatami in the hope that they will go away. Many disputes arise because of lack of communication and I have suggested that an autocratic structure which places great emphasis on the role of the individual shihan makes ‘bottom upwards' communication very difficult. By providing as one of its functions a general forum for communication among aikido organisations and between aikido organisations, aikido shihans, and the Aikikai Hombu, the IAF can be a source of support for these organisations, for the shihans, and also for the Hombu. A vast reserve of trust and goodwill towards the Aikikai has been built up over the years from many thousands of aikidoists overseas & their teachers. This is something which needs to be protected and nurtured and the IAF has an important role to play in this.

Finally, I would like to return to a point made earlier in this essay and state it differently. At the present moment in the history of aikido, I do not think that it makes much sense to talk of the IAF as an organisation in some kind of opposition to the Aikikai Hombu, or to the Japanese. Aikido is a relatively young martial art and it still retains its Japanese cultural roots. Unlike judo and kendo, there has been no major power shift in aikido and no reorientation of the art into the form of a western sport. Nearly all the high-ranking teachers are Japanese and there has been no division between Japanese and ‘western' aikido. I think that one of the most important future aims of the IAF is to make sure that such a split does not happen.

NOTE. This essay is a slightly revised version of an article which first appeared in Aikido Journal #114 and 115. I am greatly indebted to Stanley Pranin, publisher of Aikido Journal, for kindly allowing me to make use of the original.