Jin 仁 - The Warrior's Compassion

The Pen and Sword Journal - Vol 57

A story I recall from a book I read a few years ago

I remember that this story was based on a real event. Unfortunately, I no longer have the book, so I’ll summarize the story as best as I can:

I remember this one particular evening at the station. The fire chief, probably a seasoned veteran who had seen it all, was walking through when he noticed an elderly man sitting quietly on a bench in the corner. The man looked so frail, his worn-out jacket barely holding together, and his hands were trembling slightly as he clutched a small, battered tin can. It made me wonder what he was doing there.

The chief motioned to a nearby firefighter, who quickly explained the situation. The old man had been found in a nearby alley, trying to light a small fire. A rookie, eager to follow protocol, had brought him in, convinced that the man was a danger and should be taken into custody. After all, arson is a serious offense, right?

But the chief, with all his years of experience, knew better than to take things at face value. He walked over to the old man, crouched down beside him, and gently asked what had happened.

I could barely hear the old man’s voice as he explained in broken sentences that he was homeless, had been for years, and that the cold that night had been unbearable. He hadn’t eaten in days, and his hands were so numb that he couldn’t even hold the matches properly. All he wanted was a little warmth, just enough to get him through the night.

As I listened, I could see the chief’s expression change. His heart ached for the man. He knew the rules, but he also knew that sometimes, compassion had to come first. The chief stood up, turned to the rookie, who was watching with a mixture of confusion and apprehension, and said, "Go to the kitchen and make him a hot meal. Then find him a warm blanket and a place to sleep here tonight. In the morning, you're going to take him to the shelter and help him get what he needs. And after that, I want you to check on him every week, make sure he's safe and warm."

The young firefighter hesitated, but the chief’s stern look left no room for argument. As the rookie hurried off to follow orders, the old man looked up at the chief with tears in his eyes, his voice cracking as he tried to express his gratitude.

The chief just smiled, placing a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. "It's okay," he said softly. "We’re here to help."

In all the years I’ve been around, I’ve seen the chief face raging infernos, life-and-death rescues, and countless emergencies. But it’s moments like this—small acts of kindness and understanding—that have stuck with me the most. It’s a reminder that being a firefighter isn’t just about putting out fires; it’s about keeping the flame of humanity alive, even in the darkest of times.

A personal example

Although I originally read this story in a book, I have witnessed many instances, both personally and through others, where we have the option to put someone in their place, ‘set things right,’ or follow protocol, but we choose above all to be compassionate. Let me share with you a story that comes to mind right now:

A friend of mine worked in the municipal police in a city on the Balkan peninsula. In this city, many women from rural areas came to sell their handmade goods to make a living. Unfortunately, they couldn't afford to open a shop with the necessary permits, as these were limited, the taxes were high, and the few available spots were usually taken by those who paid bribes.

These women were left with no choice but to sell their products—fruits, vegetables, or dairy—on the streets. After some time, the municipal police, under the guise of maintaining order, began cracking down on these street vendors. In reality, this was more about protecting the interests of businesses tied to corrupt politicians than any genuine effort to stabilize the economy. The small profits these villagers made had little impact on the country’s economy, but were crucial for their own survival.

The municipal police were instructed to patrol the streets and confiscate the villager's goods, even issuing fines in some cases. Some officers followed these orders without question, taking away the products these villagers had worked so hard to prepare. There were even those who displayed acts of cruelty, and took the confiscated goods for themselves, a stark reminder of how power can corrupt.

However, my friend, who confided in me about this situation, felt deeply troubled by the injustice. He was torn—on one hand, he didn’t want to defy his superiors and risk his job; on the other, he wanted to help these villagers. He asked me for advice.

"I think it's impossible to help those poor peasants without putting yourself at risk," I told him. "You have to decide—you can follow the rules and keep your job, quit the job, or find a way to help them, even if it means bending the rules."

He looked at me, clearly conflicted, and asked, "What would you do in my place?"

"Honestly, I'd either look for another job or find a way to help, even if it means taking a risk," I replied.

A while after our conversation, my friend reached out to tell me what he had decided to do.

When he was off duty and dressed as a civilian, he bought goods from some of these villagers without revealing his identity. As he made his purchases, he struck up conversations with them. One woman, selling vegetables, told him her story—her husband was seriously ill, and his pension barely covered their basic needs, so she was forced to sell just to survive.

My friend was moved by her story. He gave her his phone number and offered to help by warning her whenever he knew the municipal police were planning a raid. This way, she would have time to pack up and leave before they arrived.

The woman, with tears in her eyes, thanked him with a gratitude that words can hardly convey.

Yes, my friend technically broke the law, but more importantly, he demonstrated what Buddhists or religions like Islam or Christianity call Compassion. It was pure display of ‘Jin,’ (compassion) from my friend, the quality that a true balanced warrior.

Reflections on “Jin” 仁 - The Warrior's Compassion

Art by: Albert Cordero

In both stories, and in similar situations you might have encountered, the lesson is that whether you're a firefighter or a police officer, it's crucial to understand not just the formal aspect of the law, but also the spirit of the law. In the case of the old homeless man, following the rules strictly and sending him to prison would have helped neither him nor society. The same could be said about the old women who sold vegetables. Indeed, this is a powerful example of Jin, or Compassion.

One thing often overlooked by modern martial artists when they talk about ‘the warrior ethos’ is that some elite samurai weren’t just fighters. They were also administrators, scholars, engineers, poets, and government officials. In times of peace, their roles extended far beyond the battlefield, with their civic and administrative duties being just as crucial to their status and advancement as their skills in combat. The best samurai were not simply warriors eager for the next fight; they were educated and well-rounded individuals.

Part of their education involved a deep study of the Confucian classics, where they learned that being a true warrior—or a gentleman—required more than just professional skills. It demanded honesty, righteousness, and above all, compassion for others. This sense of compassion, or Jin, was integral to their identity, embodying the idea that true humaneness arises from the interaction between people. Interestingly, the character is composed of the radical representing ‘human’ combined with the Chinese symbol for ‘two,’ symbolizing that compassion emerges from the connection between two people.

Compassion in the samurai era had a unique context, shaped by the harsh realities of their time. For instance, a warrior might show compassion by delivering a swift death to an enemy on the battlefield, sparing them from the torture they might face if captured. This blend of mercy and brutality can be hard to grasp in our modern world, but it was a fundamental part of their ethos.

A story from the Heike Monogatari

Folding Screen Depicting the Battle at Ichinotani (Saitama Prefectual Museum of History and Folklore)

There is a well-known chapter in the Heike Monogatari (The Tale of the Heike), the epic tale of the conflict between the Taira and Minamoto clans, that captures the complex nature of a warrior's compassion—perhaps even reflecting what we might now recognize as ancient PTSD. During the Battle of Ichi No Tani, the Minamoto warrior Kumagai No Jirō Naozane pursued an enemy commander to the edge of the sea. He challenged the commander to face him in single combat. The commander turned his horse and charged at Naozane, but the two men ended up grappling on the sand. Naozane quickly overpowered the armored warrior and drew his short sword to deliver the final blow—only to realize that his opponent was just a boy of about 17, barely older than his own son. The boy's youthful, delicate face, adorned with makeup and perfume as was the custom of courtly nobles, stirred a deep sense of empathy in Naozane.

Realizing there was no honor in killing such a young opponent, Naozane urged the boy to flee while he still could. After all, sparing one young life wouldn’t alter the course of the battle. But the boy, adhering to the strict warrior code, refused to run. He declared that he would rather die than live with the shame of being branded a coward. Naozane pleaded with him, knowing that the approaching Minamoto soldiers would show no mercy and might even torture the boy if they captured him alive.

“Just take my head and be done with it!” the boy demanded.

As the Minamoto warriors closed in, Naozane made the agonizing decision to grant the boy’s request. He took the boy’s head and wrapped it in his armored shoulder flap. While doing so, he discovered a lacquered flute in a pouch around the boy’s waist. “How tragic!” Naozane exclaimed. “He must have been one of the musicians I heard playing just before dawn in the stronghold. Among the thousands of riders in our eastern armies, not one would bring a flute to the battlefield. Those court nobles are truly refined men.”

When the battle was over and the heads of the leading enemy commanders were presented to the Minamoto warlords, the boy’s head was recognized as that of Taira Taiyu Atsumori. Even the Minamoto generals, who had known Atsumori at court and admired his skill at playing the flute, wept at the sight.

After the war, Naozane was so haunted by the memory of the young boy that he renounced his life as a warrior. He handed over his household and responsibilities to his son and became a monk, dedicating the rest of his life to praying for the repose of Atsumori’s spirit.

Conclusion

While times have changed, and most of us no longer face such stark choices, the lessons of that ancient warrior compassion still resonate. It's a reminder that martial arts, at their best, are not just about physical prowess but about cultivating a deep sense of humanity.

This sense of compassion isn't confined to historical tales. Consider the actions of the fire chief, who chooses to help rather than punish. These are modern expressions of that same warrior spirit, where the true challenge lies not in the battle itself, but in knowing when to temper justice with compassion.

For those of us who practice martial arts today, the samurai's legacy offers more than just techniques for self-defense. It provides a model for how we can live with integrity, strength, and compassion in a world that often seems to value the opposite. Whether we call it Jin, compassion, or charity, it remains the true way of the warrior—a path that demands both skill and a deep commitment to the well-being of others.

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📌 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

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🔻📕Additional Resources:

If you've found the philosophy of the warrior spirit inspiring and want to delve deeper into this subject, I recommend checking out my book, "100 Thoughts for the Inner Warrior."

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Above all, let us not forget that there are cases where we should channel our power to be compassionate, dear friends! 🙏🤍