Exit the Ninja
By Chester Dawson/JAPAN
Far East Economic Review
Issue cover-dated May 18, 2000
The last master of the Japanese assassins' art faces a dearth of
interest at home, but an upsurge overseas
THE DRAB HOUSE down the bottom of a dead end in a sleepy
part of Noda, a town outside Tokyo, looks no different from any of the
other grungy homes in the area.
But appearances can be deceiving. Step inside and, in a scene
reminiscent of feudal Japan, a dozen students are practising body throws
and high kicks against a backdrop of rice-paper screens, a miniature
shrine with offerings dedicated to the gods, and walls lined with replicas
of medieval weapons.
This is Bujinkan Dojo, the last redoubt in Japan for the mysterious
assassins of yore, the ninja. And overseeing it all is Masaaki Hatsumi, a
grizzled but lithe 69-year-old who bills himself as Japan's only living
ninja master.
During their heyday in the 16th century, ninja spies roamed Japan
working as ruthless mercenaries for feudal warlords. But today's ninja
must be just as comfortable in a black tie as a black tunic. "We're
not a club of warriors, we're gentlemen," says Hatsumi.
And instead of teaching devious methods of attack, Hatsumi stresses
self-defence. "I refuse to pass on some traditions such as poisoning
techniques," he says. "Some lessons are better off
unlearned." Even so, in addition to receiving a smorgasbord of
lessons distilled from aikido, judo and karate, students at the Bujinkan
also practise ninja arts ranging from dodging sharp-edged, star-shaped
projectiles called shuriken to firing blow darts.
Hatsumi is the only surviving pupil of Toshitsugu Takamatsu, an
infamous ninja grandmaster who served as bodyguard for the head of
Japanese-occupied Manchuria before Word War II and died in 1973. At age
27, Hatsumi took up ninjutsu--the art of the ninja--as an apprentice of
Takamatsu after first earning advanced degrees in several other martial
arts.
But few Japanese are interested in following in his footsteps. Today,
the ninja have become a hollow cliché for mythical superhumans or
clown-like buffoons, not the type of image that attracts ardent
martial-arts buffs in Japan. Gazing into the eyes of a pet owl in his
cluttered home not far from the training centre, Hatsumi acknowledges that
few of his fellow countrymen take his calling seriously. "Japanese
are getting involved in all sorts of new hobbies. But lack of respect for
tradition is a sign of weakness in society," he says with a sigh.
Ironically, Hatsumi has a bigger following overseas than at home,
thanks in part to his work as an adviser for Hollywood productions such as
the 1967 James Bond movie You Only Live Twice and 1980 television
mini-series Shogun. In addition to his behind-the-scenes role on the
silver screen, he has given lectures to officials from such modern-day
security citadels as the CIA, FBI and SAS. Most of the students who flock
to his training centre for short training stints are foreigners from
dozens of loosely affiliated schools run by former students around the
world--from Argentina to Vietnam. Many also have backgrounds in law
enforcement or the military (see box on page 61).
While the popularity of all types of martial arts has grown by leaps
and bounds outside Japan, they appear to have less and less appeal for
Japanese. After peaking in 1979 at just shy of 5 million devotees, the
number of Japanese regularly practising a martial art had halved by 1998,
government statistics show.
Experts say martial arts in Japan have suffered from the growth in
popularity of Western sports--everything from hockey to snowboarding.
"More and more kids are taking up soccer and basketball," says
Shigeru Matsumoto, head of the department of budo, or martial arts, at
Nippon Sports Science University.
"There's just not so much interest in Japanese martial arts any
more," he says. The martial arts department at the university, one of
Japan's top schools for college athletes, received four times as many
applications from prospective students a decade ago than it does today. In
a bid to reverse the trend, the school has begun offering courses in areas
such as traditional folk dance to broaden the department's appeal.
But even as the guardians of Japan's martial arts struggle to reverse
the drop in interest at home, they also face a challenge from the spread
of their disciplines overseas. Efforts by non-native fans to tinker with
centuries of tradition have irked some Japanese officials. In 1997, Japan
unsuccessfully tried to block the International Judo Federation from
approving a European-led move to allow blue uniforms instead of the usual
white. More recently, the All-Japan Judo Federation has begun complaining
that foreign athletes' preference for extra-thick-collared uniforms gives
them an unfair advantage over Japanese competitors.
Sumo authorities have quietly clamped down on the number of foreign
professional wrestlers in Japan in the face of concerns that they may ruin
the sport for traditionalists. Of course, others welcome the new blood
because fewer Japanese seem interested in suiting up in a sumo loincloth
or starched karate uniform.
Indeed, it's telling that while Russian leader Vladimir Putin has a
black belt in judo, Japanese Prime Minister Yoshiro Mori's favourite sport
is rugby. Yet, there's still a devoted core of martial-arts fans in Japan.
Almost all Japanese children get some exposure to judo or kendo in school,
while active clubs can be found at most universities. Ryuji Ishihara, a
full-time Kyokushin karate instructor in central Tokyo, says enrolment at
his training centre has remained steady in recent years, although the
make-up of the pupils is changing. "It's more popular than ever among
women," he says, most of whom want to be able to fend off a possible
sexual assault.
And, as ninja master Hatsumi points out, size and strength are never as
important as being aware of your surroundings and the weaknesses in your
opponent. "It's never a matter of brute strength, it's honing your
sixth sense," he says nonchalantly as he takes down three attackers
simultaneously in his training dojo.
Despite the ninja's reputation for using ingenious weaponry such as
blinding powder, hooked ropes and sharp tacks for slowing pursuers,
Hatsumi calls his brand of the stealthy craft taijutsu, or simply, the art
of the body. That means rigorous physical training from head to toe. Or
finger, in the case of Hatsumi, who's fond of flicking business cards
across a room with deadly accuracy. To a well-trained ninja, he says,
"anything is a weapon."
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