What if Aikido were, in the end, a Partial Art?

We belong to a generation raised on massive doses of testosterone and constant exposure to social models dominated by alpha males -at least in the collective imagination and in movies.

This led to decades of Martial Arts’ classes cyclically stormed by packs of aspiring alpha males, convinced they would find some form of completeness through high-impact disciplines.

Stanley Kubrick once said about movies: “A movie is life without the boring parts.” Unfortunately, this is also true for Martial Arts’ movies. In just a couple of hours, a nerd becomes a Martial Arts champion, solves his personal problems, fixes everything wrong, and often wins the heart of the pretty-but-slightly-insecure girl who—what a coincidence—is the ex of the resident villain.

In real life, reaching that level -assuming one ever does- takes more than two hours. Successfully handling a real fight without excessive trauma, requires preparation and an attitude that the Monday, Wednesday, and Friday class at €49.90/month does not provide.

But this didn’t particularly concern gym owners from the ’80s, ’90s, and early 2000s. Each wave of new enrollments was followed by a wave of disillusionment, but the flow remained steady over time.

Over the last fifteen years, Mixed Martial Arts have seen continuous growth and now represent almost 40% of the Martial Arts market. What changed? Clearly not Karate Kid-style films filling the imagination of future students. And the psychological mechanism -the trigger that fuels the desire to feel “alpha,” dominant -certainly hasn’t changed.

What changed is the product. Somehow, the market managed to convince people that martial competence could be met more fully and more effectively through a mixed approach than through the study of a more traditional path.

As if attending a Judo, Karate, Aikido, or Ju Jutsu class were the same as attending a Partial Arts class.

Well, the answer -at least for Aikido- is: yes, Aikido is a Partial Art.

You can be complete even while being partial. Aikido studies imbalance, connection, joint locks, weapons with almost obsessive attention. And yet, there is no real teaching of kicks (and where one attempts it, it is a pathetic counterfeit between Karate and Jujutsu). There is no study of ground fighting as in Judo or various grappling forms. And even striking -the famous atemi, which for some should be… 89.8796% of Aikido- is only a distant relative of other combat systems.

And yet, it is a complete discipline, even while being a Partial Art.

Because in the end, they all are -even the most advanced combat methodologies taught to elite military units.

An art is partial because it cannot exist independently of the artist who gives it form and life, just as a musical score cannot exist without the instrument and, even more so, the musician who interprets it.

A discipline, even if used as a foundation for shaping one’s life, does not replace the person who practices it. When faced with a peak of stress, a long-lasting difficulty, or a relationship that requires determination to move toward something constructive, Morihei Ueshiba does not show up in our place.

You cannot fix a strained relationship with your kids with a joint lock.

These are obvious truths.

Yet, even today, despite the fact that the type of Martial Arts practitioner has changed drastically over the last forty years, people often use a discipline to build a reinforced concrete shell around themselves. Even more often, they structure their entire existence -and their entire way of thinking- around what, for them, is the discipline they practice. Technical repetition replaces the pursuit of personal improvement. Repeating is easier; changing is less so.

Beyond the obvious distinction between what we perceive Aikido to be and what it actually is, we can see how our need to become “alpha” at something makes us absolutize what should instead remain partial.

Aikido must be a Partial Art. Its practice must allow individuals to cultivate themselves in multiple dimensions. It must allow people to understand that what they seek may not be in Aikido but elsewhere. It must point toward broader dimensions.

Ideally, it should place responsible freedom at the center of every action, every teaching, every method.

Perhaps for this reason, its Founder said that Aikido is “realizing what is missing.” Which likely means that what we call Aikido is actually a laboratory in which we realize that Aikido truly begins outside the Dojo.

Disclaimer: Picture by Ann H from Pexels