Monat: September 2025

In karate – as in many other traditional martial arts – names play a central role. They are not just labels but carry history, philosophy, and cultural identity within them. One example is the Chinese name Yongchun 永春.

Occasionally, this name is rendered according to the Japanese reading of the characters, as Eishun えいしゅん. Linguistically, this is not incorrect, since 永春 can indeed be read that way in Japanese. However, for people who do not speak Japanese, this version is difficult to understand. It also obscures the Chinese origin of the name and makes it harder to connect it with the city of Yongchun in Fujian Province or with the style Yongchun White Crane 永春白鶴.

Why shouldn’t names be translated?

A look at geography illustrates this well:

• San Diego literally means Saint James.

• San Francisco means Saint Francis.

• Los Angeles means The Angels.

Despite these straightforward translations, the cities in the United States naturally retain their Spanish names. Nobody would think of calling San Diego “Saint James” – it would only create confusion, since the well-known city would no longer be recognizable under that name.

A parallel to martial arts

It is the same in martial arts: terms like Yongchun 永春 should remain in their original form. Rendering the name in the Japanese reading Eishun may make sense within a strictly Japanese context, but internationally it is misleading and impractical.

Cultural respect and clarity

Keeping original names is therefore not only a matter of linguistic accuracy but also of respect for their origins. Names carry identity. By preserving terms like Yongchun 永春 in their authentic form, we safeguard both their historical and cultural significance – and avoid misunderstandings caused by unnecessary translations.

In linguistics and translation studies, Intended Meaning refers to the intended significance of an expression or text, that is, what an author or speaker actually wants to convey, independent of the words chosen. It concerns the underlying intention, which can often only be discerned through context, cultural knowledge, and historical background.

Example: The sentence “He’s seeing stars” could literally suggest that he is observing stars in the sky, but the intended meaning is actually “He is dizzy or injured.” In translation, this concept is particularly important: Erwin Koschmieder (1896-1977) referred to it as das Gemeinte (the intended meaning), which also functions as a tertium comparationis – a theoretical “common denominator” connecting the source and target languages.

Understanding the intended meaning requires not only linguistic competence but also cultural, historical, and situational knowledge, since many meanings are implicit, symbolic, or philosophically coded. This is especially crucial for specialized texts, literary works, or culturally embedded content (e.g., Okinawa Karate), where grasping the intended meaning is essential to convey the sense accurately.

Engaging with the history of karate is often like embarking on a long journey filled with detours, quiet moments, and unexpected encounters. Those who dedicate themselves to historical karate research soon realize: it is not only about dates, names, and techniques, but also about patience – a virtue practiced both in the dōjō and at the desk.

The Incompleteness of Sources

Karate was born in a time when written records were scarce. Much was passed down orally, some deliberately concealed. Today we find fragments: old photographs, handwritten notes, the memories of students. These fragments gradually form a picture, though gaps always remain. Researchers cannot expect quick answers here.

The Parallel to Practice

In training we learn: progress does not come overnight. A kata often accompanies us for decades, revealing its depth only with patience. The same applies to historical sources. A document can lie unnoticed in an archive for years until, at the right moment, it is discovered – sometimes by chance, sometimes through persistent effort.

The Art of Waiting

“Sometimes things come to us without us expecting them.” This phrase captures both the spiritual attitude within karate and the research process itself. Those who wait without forcing the search open themselves to the unexpected. It is often precisely these chance finds, encounters with other researchers, or hints from unforeseen directions that offer decisive new perspectives.

Research as „dō“

Just as karate is a “Way” (dō), historical research can also be understood as a path. It is a process requiring patience, dedication, and a willingness to embrace not-knowing. Walking this path reveals that knowledge lies not only in the result, but also in the inner attitude with which we seek – and wait.

In my last two articles, I first presented the obituary that Hanashiro Chōmo wrote for his friend Yabu Kentsū, followed by a letter that Yabu composed shortly before his deployment to war, addressed to his former school principal. Both documents make reference to the First Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895), with Yabu’s letter written on the eve of his departure to the front. From Hanashiro’s words, further valuable details can also be gleaned, as he specifies the exact battalion to which they belonged. As I noted in the previous article, Yabu set foot on Chinese soil for the first time on January 23, 1895.

Even greater insight can now be gained from an official report written by Yabu’s regiment: although Yabu and Hanashiro are not mentioned by name, the knowledge of their battalion allows us to clearly establish the context. Finally, it is worth noting that even the roughly 60 kilometers traversed by the Japanese army at that time were preserved in musical form.

It should be noted, however, that only the music is connected; the film scenes, on the other hand, depict another dreadful event which has already been filmed twice.

Yabu wrote this letter shortly before his first and only deployment in the First Sino-Japanese War. One can sense in Yabu’s words that he was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to experience his first combat mission. It should be noted that the Japanese military had already won several battles before Yabu joined the campaign.

As mentioned earlier, only Hanashiro’s account provides information about the exact company and battalion in which Yabu served. Therefore, I have restored the previously obscured parts of the letter to learn more about his actual military engagement. This restored information will also be referenced in future articles and writings.

Several days passed after the letter before Yabu set foot on Chinese soil for the first time on January 23, 1895.