Cyber Aikido - The Ultimate Self-Defense

Aikido is a martial art of self-defense. It is the Art of Peace practiced through “war,” because we cannot understand peace in the absence of conflict, nor silence in the absence of noise. And in order to master our art, we need aggressors who challenge us with increasingly complex problems as we advance in our training.

We, Aikido practitioners, respect our attackers, whether they meet us on the tatami, on the asphalt, or in the virtual dojo. Without them, we would be training with ghosts and with our own thoughts. And when an Aikido practitioner receives a verbal insult, they welcome it with the same enthusiasm as a Shomen-uchi strike because it allows them to execute a complex Mawashi.

We live in four dimensions. Just as our planet has three spatial dimensions and one temporal dimension, we too have four dimensions: physical, mental, emotional, and verbal. Each of these dimensions can be attacked.

Aikido is perfect. Every martial art was developed for physical self-defense, but in our era the most frequently attacked dimension is the verbal one, which, if not properly trained, destabilizes both the mental and the emotional dimensions. Physical fights leave bruises less and less often, yet emotional bruises are becoming more frequent as a result of arguments and scandals.

How Aikido Responds to Insults

Yesterday I heard a remark that struck me as essential: people’s opinions can change depending on how we present Aikido.

When a practitioner of MMA, BJJ, or Boxing says, “Aikido is Bullshido,” the temptation is to prove them wrong. But this is precisely where Aikido principles are lost because Aikido is not meant to “win” a fight, but to defuse it: sometimes with humor, sometimes with self-irony, sometimes with a short reply that completely shifts the register.

If Aikido is insulted today, this is not a sign of weakness in the martial art itself, but proof that it refuses to play by rules that do not belong to it because Aikido is not taught with entrance music and cage girls.

Since the emergence of forums and, later, social media, Aikido practitioners have been facing “keyboard fighters.” The fight no longer takes place on the tatami; Atemi are delivered verbally. Yet the principles remain the same, only the punch turns into an insult, imbalance into contempt, technique into a battle of words, and pins or throws become block, unfriend, angry emoji.

From the moment the “keyboard fighter” appeared, Aikido unfortunately lost many practitioners, because those who did not understand the principle of kuzushi allowed themselves to be destabilized and fell prey to insults, losing confidence in their art.

At the same time, the rise of martial arts competitions reduced the number of practitioners, many of whom migrated toward combat sports that are “better regarded.”

Those who remained loyal to this extremely beautiful martial art, both visually and in the depth of its technical and philosophical principles, managed to stay centered, confident, and strong, fully benefiting from the advantages this art has to offer.

How Did Aikido End Up in the Dock, a Target of Irony?

Aikido undoubtedly had a peak moment, a period when it hovered in the air as something profound, mysterious, almost esoteric. Morihei Ueshiba, his legendary beard, the idea of harmony, the promise of a force that does not crush but redirects. It was attractive precisely because it resembled nothing else around it.

Then forums appeared, and with them, universal experts. For the first time, Aikido was no longer judged on the tatami, through practice and experience, but in comment sections, through comparisons. And in a world that began to measure efficiency in knockouts and 15-second highlights, Aikido became the perfect target.

“Bullshido” — a Word Tossed Around Casually, as If It Explained Everything

Aikido has not changed radically. The stage has. The internet has moved the conversation from the space of direct encounter into the space of rapid verdicts. Aikido, which does not rush, does not shout, and does not promise viral heroes, has begun to seem suspicious, and in this context Aikido practitioners have oscillated between polite silence and the urge to prove that it “also works in real life.” Both reactions are human, but perhaps neither is truly… Aikido.

One detail is often overlooked in these discussions. Ueshiba did not want to create a harsh martial art. He had already practiced such arts. He had mastered them. He came from a world in which the body was trained for real survival, in a Japan that still carried the memory of the samurai. Precisely for this reason, Aikido is not a step backward, but a step further.

 

Ueshiba sensed that the world was changing, that people no longer lived in a state of permanent hand-to-hand combat, that extreme hardness was no longer a universal solution, and so he conceived Aikido as an art of harmony with the overarching theme of conflict.

Paradoxical? Not at all. Aikido does not deny conflict; it uses it as an instrument of awareness. And if we look honestly at today’s world, we are already beyond Ueshiba’s historical moment, yet we are merely carrying his futuristic vision forward, because he created a martial art for the age of harmonization, an age in which interest in well-being, ecology, veganism, sustainability, and balance is on the rise.

Outside of wars, which are no longer fought hand to hand anyway, the world is, paradoxically, moving toward greater harmony. Of course, there is still a category of people who wish to practice martial arts as in the time of the samurai, and that is perfectly legitimate, but they are no longer the majority.

In this landscape, Aikido is not a relic, but a martial art perfectly adapted to the historical moment: a practice that proposes movement without unnecessary brutality, strength without destruction, and confrontation without hatred. But the true battle of our time is no longer physical. It is verbal.

Aikido Applied to Language and Why Humor Works

If we transfer Aikido from the body into language, things become surprisingly clear and we discover an extremely powerful tool: Irimi becomes the ability to enter dialogue without aggressiveness; Tenkan becomes a change in the angle of the conversation; Ma-ai becomes the correct distance from an insult; Kuzushi becomes the destabilization of the argument, not of the person.

That is why Aikido’s response to insult is not counterattack, but elegant redirection, very often through humor, because humor is the most effective form of verbal nonviolence. It defuses without humiliating and closes a conflict without ostentatiously “winning” it.

Aikido does not compete with MMA, BJJ, or Boxing, just as tea does not compete with energy drinks. It is, rather, a martial art for a world that still argues a great deal, but fights less and less. A world in which the true battle is fought through words, comments, and opinions. In this context, Aikido does not need to be defended; it needs to be translated. And if its response to insult is calm, humor, and elegance, perhaps that is precisely what makes it so irritating to some and so necessary for the rest.

Because Aikido has no visibility in competitions (which exist only in a few federations worldwide) and appears mainly in demonstrations, the elegance of its movements is often mistaken for dance or inefficiency. Even though all martial arts have Kata that look beautiful in the dojo, practitioners of Karate, Judo, MMA, Taekwondo, and BJJ also gain visibility through competitions where, unlike in Aikido, the beauty of movement is replaced by the efficiency of techniques. In Karate competitions, techniques are reduced to brutal movements, with each competitor trying to strike the opponent; in Judo, at the Olympics, from the beautiful dojo techniques we are left mostly with two fighters circling each other while gripping the kimono, until, if we are lucky, we get the pleasure of seeing a beautifully executed technique.

Aikido would look the same in competition. All the elements of its techniques become invisible the moment two competitors simply hunt each other, waiting for the opportunity to execute a throw or a wrist lock. This is why Aikido seems suspicious: the few competitions that do exist are almost invisible to the general public, and the art is judged only on the basis of demonstrations, just as any other martial art would be judged if it were seen only in moments of study, demonstration, and the presentation of Kata.

As a conclusion, the only real place where Aikido practitioners find themselves in visible competition is when they are cyber-attacked by “keyboard fighters.”

I propose a keyboard randori for Aikido practitioners. Let’s do an exercise, a mini scene, in which an Aikido practitioner engages in a verbal randori with practitioners of MMA, BJJ, Boxing, Judo, or Karate, and, of course, the Martial Dilettante: the one who practices no martial art at all, or a little bit of each, just enough to have an opinion, much like a Flat Earth enthusiast who debates scientists based on AI-generated videos, ignoring evidence in favor of collecting likes.

Keyboard Randori

BJJ: So, you practice… Aikido. Does that actually work in real life?

Aikidoka: I like that pause you take, as if you’re about to reveal a cosmic truth. It depends on what you mean by “real life.” Which reality? The one with Netflix, or the one where you chase people down on the asphalt?

BJJ: In real life, I take you to the ground in three seconds.

Aikidoka: Sure. In three seconds, we’re also in a very intimate relationship, on the ground, heavy breathing, lots of eye contact. Amazing. And then?

 

BJJ: Then? I win.

Aikidoka: What do you win? An imaginary medal and a very real conversation with the police? But yes, congratulations. You’ve won… a hug on the asphalt with an angry stranger. Respect!

MMA Guy: Come on, let’s be serious. In MMA, Aikido doesn’t work! In the cage, you’ve got zero chances!

Aikidoka: You’re right! Therapy doesn’t work in MMA either. Neither does empathy. Nor your unresolved childhood. That’s why it’s a cage, to keep things simple. You win the match. I keep functional knees and a shorter walk home.

Judoka: I take you down before you can blink!

Aikidoka: You’re right too! Judo throws you to the ground. Aikido makes you throw yourself. It’s more economical.

Boxer: Your techniques are slow and useless.

Aikidoka: Yours are spectacular. Mine are optional, like the apps you downloaded and never opened because you never needed them.

Karateka: Aikido is totally useless!

Aikidoka: Exactly. That’s why I’ve been practicing it for 20 years.

Martial Dilettante: Bullshido! That’s what you practice!

Aikidoka: Bullshido is when you confuse strength with intelligence and are genuinely surprised that you’re the first to get tired. And here we are: you’re red with rage, I’m calm, the audience is laughing… which one of us is practicing Bullshido?

BJJ: Okay, okay, you talk a lot to everyone, but on the street? On the street I still take you down.

Aikidoka: Probably. But tell me something, why do you want so badly for us to lie on the ground together? Is there something you want to tell me? A cry for help?

 

BJJ: Well… that’s how you resolve a fight.

Aikidoka: I’m trying to resolve the situation.

Just as in the execution of a technique we apply parry, imbalance, principle, pin, or throw, in a verbal confrontation we must apply the same principles because if we miss a parry, we end up with a bump on the forehead, and if we miss the reply in the case of an insult, we end up with a bump on the soul: a bump that can destabilize us and cause us to lose confidence in our practice.

Aikido practitioners are the ones who must find their balance in the face of cyberbullying and see the “strikes” of keyboard fighters as opportunities to practice Aikido techniques. Even if they are verbal, the principles are the same, and the online environment is nothing more than a virtual dojo offering additional training opportunities.

In theatre, it is said that a role can be approached from the outside in or from the inside out. This means we can begin creating a character from the exterior working first on costume, set, and movement and only afterward discover the inner values and their expression; or we can work from the inside outward, focusing first on expression, and then allowing costume, set, and movement to reveal themselves naturally.

Aikido is not only external; it is not only physical. Aikido works in the depth of the practitioner, becoming a way of life that must manifest itself in movement as well as in mind, language, and emotion. And Cyber-Uke should be seen as training partners, not as enemies.

For me, the challenges of the Cyber-Uke were ultimately beneficial. Although they destabilized me for a while, I managed to regain my balance and create an anti-bullying method, combining the two fields that I have studied throughout my life, Aikido and Acting, and thus the book was born: “Anti-bullying Course: using AIKIDO techniques and THEATER exercises”.

I strongly believe that all four of our dimensions, body, mind, emotions and language, must be trained equally to maintain our well-being, self-esteem, and balance in a world that is still in a permanent state of conflict.

I share here the link to my book on amazon.com

Amazon.com: Anti-Bullying Course: Using AIKIDO techniques and THEATER exercises: 9798291018477: Sanada, Sandra: Books

The book is available on all Amazon platforms, such as: amazon.co.uk, amazon.fr, amazon.com.au, amazon.in etc. for those living in Europe, UK, Australia, NZ, or India.