On Courage

I found a samurai in a rather unusual place... Reading a collection of writings and speeches by the late Steve Biko, I write what I like, I came across a piece that struck a chord with me....

A few months before his incarceration and eventual death in detention at age 30, Bantu Steve Biko was interviewed by an American businessman.

You are either alive or proud or you are dead, and when you are dead, you can’t care anyway. And your method of death can itself be a politicising thing. So you die in the riots. For a hell of a lot of them, in fact, there’s really nothing to lose – almost literally, given the kind of situations that they come from. So if you can overcome the personal fear for death, which is a highly irrational thing, you know, then you’re on the way.

And in interrogation the same sort of thing applies. I was talking to this policeman, and I told him, “If you want us to make any progress, the best thing is for us to talk. Don’t try any form of rough stuff, because it just won’t work.” And this is absolutely true also. For I just couldn’t see what they could do to me which would make me all of a sudden soften to them. If they talk to me, well I’m bound to be affected by them as human beings. But the moment they adopt rough stuff, they are imprinting in my mind that they are police. And I only understand one form of dealing with police, and that is to be as unhelpful as possible. So I button up. And I told them this: “It’s up to you.” We had a boxing match the first day I was arrested. Some guy tried to clout me with a club. I went into him like a bull. I think he was under instructions to take it so far and no further, and using open hands so that he doesn’t leave any marks on the face. And of course he said exactly what you were saying just now: “I will kill you”. He meant to intimidate. And my answer was: “How long is it going to take you?” Now of course they were observing my reaction. And they could see that I was completely unbothered. If they beat me up, it’s to my advantage. I can use it. They just killed somebody in jail – a friend of mine – about ten days before I was arrested. Now it would have been bloody useful evidence for them to assault me. At least it would indicate what kinds of possibilities were there, leading to this guy’s death.

So I wanted them to go ahead and do what they could do, so that I could use it. I wasn’t really afraid that their violence might lead me to make revelations I didn’t want to make, because I had nothing to reveal on this particular issue. I was operating from a very good position, and they were in a very weak position. My attitude is, I am not going to allow them to carry out their programme faithfully. If they want to beat me five times, they can only do so on condition that I allow them to beat me five times. If I react sharply, equally and oppositely to the first klap, they are not going to be able to systematically count the next four klaps, you see. It’s a fight. So if they had meant to give me so much of a beating, and not more, my idea is to make them go beyond what they wanted to give me and to give back as much as I can give so that it becomes an uncontrollable thing. You see the one problem the guy had with me: he couldn’t really fight with me because it meant he must hit back, like a man. But he was given instructions you see, on how to hit, and now these instructions were no longer applying because it was a fight. So he had to withdraw and get more instructions. So I said to them, “Listen, if you guys want to do this your way, you have got to handcuff me and bind my feet together, so that I can’t respond. If you allow me to respond I’m certainly going to respond. And I’m afraid you may have to kill me in the process even if it is not your intention”.

The interview with Steve Biko conjured up many thoughts for me, as I hope it will for you. Maybe it will help you think about your own courage as it did me. How many of us are willing to suffer –as he did – for what we believe in? How many of us “activists” are still prepared to do so; those of us who regale others who were not there with stories - many of them becoming embellished in the retelling- how many of us persist today, continue to stand up in the face of injustice and without fear or favour are able to speak unpalatable truth to overweaning power. How many of those who call ourselves “activists” or not are able to do that – especially with our friends. It is often a battle that is harder to do than with our enemies.

How many of us are in fact willing to sit with ourselves in integrity and speak unpalatable truth to power to ourselves when we utilise our power to wrong another?

Recently I had the misfortune to see, hear and feel the pain as a colleague who does amazing facilitation work had to confront the disjuncture between what he says and what he does. And face the prospect of the complete destruction of a meaningful relationship. I saw the physical and emotional torment the situation caused him. I know that well; I too have visited that place. In the end, he lost the battle within himself, choosing instead to retreat behind carefully crafted internal walls where no other person can touch him – and there in his solitude, far away from anyone else, he felt in (false) control.

Being a warrior is hard. More than fighting, it is also about being willing to die – and for death not to matter. Knowing what you stand for means you don’t fall for everything.

Our training on the tatami offers us the space for that kind of preparation. At a technical level, practice in irimi (entering with the body) in the face of an attack helps to clear away the impurities that stick like barnacles to our technique. At another level, training with full awareness and consciousness – even on the days we would rather not – helps to clarify for us our purpose and how we live that our in relation to others.

As we refine what it is we stand for, the challenge becomes to implement that in all aspects of our lives – how we work, how we play, how we relate to others, how we love. At that point the artificial distinctions cease because there is no difference between me the brother, son, colleague, facilitator, writer, teacher, seeker after insight, lover or friend. When those carefully crafted yet artificial distinctions we cherish inside us fall away, the true warrior, samurai (one who is in service [to humanity]) can step forward. That is perhaps Takemusu aiki – aikido (the spirit of harmony) without form.

While Steve Bantu Biko paid the ultimate price at the tender age of 30, each of us has the space to grapple with those self-same issues in less terminal circumstances. Thanks to the sacrifice of people like him.

Courage is the power to let go of the familiar... To step out from our comfort zones and to know and show what we stand for.

See you on the tatami...