Thursday, July 27, 2023

Response to "Epistemic Viciousness: Taking Martial Arts Seriously"

 


Yesterday I shared the above article, https://chinesemartialstudies.com/2020/08/31/epistemic-viciousness-taking-martial-arts-seriously/, with our broader instructor team and some of them mistakenly thought I wrote it. Of course I'm flattered, but it was not mine. I merely submitted it for discussion since there are numerous interesting themes mentioned. The article itself is a response to an editorial piece from the South China Morning Post (SCMP), cited here (paywalled, sadly).

I will do my best to respond to the points raised, and I hope you will share your views in the comments as well. As martial artists, we should never shy away from discussing the issues that involve our training and teaching, in the hopes that we can be better informed and deliver more for ourselves and our students.

The "Value" of Traditional Martial Arts Practice

The original editorial article laments the seeming ineffectiveness of traditional Chinese martial arts in favor of more modern expressions such as MMA and Krav Maga, mentioning that the traditional approach does not allow for independent thought or scientific method by the students - instead requiring a cult-like acceptance of anything the Master says as being true and unquestionable.  Compared to modern arts, in traditional dojos there is a decidedly militaristic quality in traditional practice, with lots of ritual and formality coupled with rigorous discipline and respect for authority, especially for instructor ranks. By contrast, modern combat sports like MMA and Krav Maga (even Judo, BJJ, boxing and Muay Thai) can sometimes feel more like a gym cardio kickboxing workout than a martial arts class.

So if traditional martial arts do not easily defeat these modern systems in a fight, what is their value? Are they even worth studying anymore?

As a 40-plus year student and teacher of both traditional and modern styles, I feel both have merit. I would absolutely say that my formative time in traditional Japanese martial arts dojos from age 14 onward was invaluable to help me become who I am today and I see these arts as more necessary than ever, especially for young people. Why?

First of all, I categorically reject combat success as the sole objective of martial arts training. Rather, I would say if your principle goal is to be able to defend yourself/injure others in a fight you are far better off arming yourself with a weapon than studying martial arts. The learning curve for most people to survive a real fight is long and, depending on the encounter, chances of success are limited even then. This is without even addressing the idea that modern combat sports are just that - sports. Yes, a trained boxer can injure people. So could a trained rugby player. It is a particularly foolish assumption to suggest that victory in combat sports (with rules) equates to successful combat performance - even for Krav Maga (unless you are in the Israeli military) or LEO training. Empirical evidence shows that some proper training does help, but does not even remotely guarantee success in a violent encounter. Additionally, combat sports have a very poor track record in court for those who use them indiscriminately. Without a deep awareness of the law in each jurisdiction, injuring someone in a fight will get you arrested, sued and potentially land you in prison. This is not worth it unless violence is absolutely unavoidable. Furthermore, teaching combat sports to children/young adults requires extreme care, since a lot of moral judgement is required to know when it is OK to use these techniques and when it isn't. Even if a young person might not go to jail for delivering an elbow to a classmate's face on the playground or pitch there are still serious repercussions (including emotional trauma) for doing so without clear justification. 

Discipline and Respect for authority are important skills for becoming a successful adult in modern society. As a person who has spent more than 30 years living in Japan, I can attest that it is useful to understand how to create harmony inside and outside the workplace, and to learn to establish and strengthen relationships both upward and downward (senpai and kohai). My time in the dojo helped me develop universal respect - respect for myself, respect for the other students, respect for the seniors/instructors, respect for the traditions/history of the art. This was never done out of fear, guilt or negativity, but rather by encouraging a sense of belonging as part of an organized hierarchy - something the 14-year old me was desperately yearning for. My teacher knew how to motivate me outside the dojo as well. If my grades were low or I got in trouble, or if my foster parents complained he would simply not allow me to train for a while. That was enough to get my total compliance. My behavior and grades improved dramatically and, during a time when most teens are rebellious, I was able to maintain healthy relationships with my parents and others. I think it is also worth noting that modern combat sports often emphasize the individual player over the group. Matches are 1:1 and sparring is central to the training. In traditional schools, the organization and hierarchy are very important. In a very traditional dojo, a member is not even mentioned in the dojo record until they are instructor level. One's place in the social fabric must be earned through training and interaction, not just by fighting skill. 

I spent my first 7 years training in ninjutsu, including both taijutsu and kobudo, eventually becoming familiar with all the weapons we used. Weapons training as well, increases focus/awareness and develops respect for the inherent danger to yourself and your training partners. After my initial 7 years, my teacher sent me to another master for specific work on kenjutsu/Iaijutsu, as I requested. This involved long hours of suburi and seiza for conditioning, as well as practice cutting (tameshigiri) with a variety of traditional weapons on his farm in Indiana. In addition, I am sure for every hour on the mats I spent at least another hour or more studying. My teacher's curriculum was based on both pen and sword, meaning that I was required to study military history (especially Japanese), large and small unit tactics, politics, philosophy/spirituality and more. I was also required to range certify with pistols (automatics and revolvers of multiple calibers) and shotguns (pump-action and semi-auto). I wrestled in high school and fenced in college. By 23, after nearly 10 years of study in traditional dojos, I am certain my killing skills were at their peak and at least the equal of anyone having done combat sports. Fortunately, my teachers instilled in me a very strong moral compass and the responsibility to know that my training was only ever to protect myself or others in times of great danger, not for tournaments or sport.

In the 80s and 90s I enjoyed the study of Aikido very much, including Aikikai, Takeda Ryu Akijujutsu and finally Yoshinkan in the 2000s. As I have written before, I do not consider these to be combat arts per se, but their foundation improved my sword work and every other aspect of my martial arts to this present day.

I fully believe this training, since I was 14-years old, is the reason why I have been successful in my life and overcome every challenge I have faced. I was able to develop discipline, self-confidence, awareness, universal respect and self-control. I became part of a community and developed lifelong relationships which have supported me mentally and emotionally for decades. As an instructor, I have been able to pass this gift to hundreds of other people and try to help them find the courage to become the best versions of themselves. I haven't had to kill anyone yet, and I actually abhor violence. Because I am confident, I do not feel the need to escalate an encounter or fight due to fear. My martial arts is there if it is needed to defend myself or others, but I have gotten so many benefits apart from fighting that I can safely say it has been the best investment in myself I ever made. I am filled with gratitude and use every opportunity to pay it forward for others.  

My point here is that martial arts is exactly that: Martial and Art. Each person must find the training that matches his/her goals - balancing the martial aspect and the art aspect to deliver the right outcome. As parents, we have to be sure that the instructors we trust are preparing our children to be good quality human beings rather than gladiators. This means learning focus and goal-setting, balance and coordination, respect  (especially self-respect) and discipline, self-control and anger management. A good dojo promotes curiosity and discovery, as well as leadership and initiative. It means fostering a community of positivity and a support network which will help each student have a smoother transition into successful adulthood - becoming the person they truly want to be.

About Kali Majapahit

I began my Kali Majapahit journey in Singapore in 2008. I was fortunate to meet the founders, PG Fred Evrard and Guro Lila Evrard, and have been training with them ever since. Kali Majapahit was intriguing for many reasons. As the name implies, it is a blend of many sub-systems (including Hakka Kuntao, Silat, Kali Sikaran and Inayan Escrima) found throughout the Majapahit empire and is taught within the broader framework of Filipino martial arts. The art is comprehensive and includes all ranges and tools (empty hands, edged weapons, impact weapons, improvised weapons, locks and grappling). After 15 years, I am still learning new things all the time.

The pedagogy is anchored in positivity, seeking a balance between physical, mental/emotional and spiritual development. This ensures that students develop the correct moral and ethical framework as a part of the training. The techniques are taught through patterns, drills and templates, but students are very soon challenged to apply the concepts they are taught through discovery, rather than just mimicking what the instructors do. There is sparring (empty hands, training knife and foam stick), with an emphasis on safety and learning how to respond under pressure.

Kali Majapahit has allowed me to express my full and authentic self as a martial artist without ever limiting me. I draw from over 40 years experience (25 years before starting KM) which enriches what I can discover and share with my own students.

Most importantly, Kali Majapahit was designed to grow and evolve. As PG Fred Evrard has often said, "I wrote the first pages and chapters. It is up to all of you to write the rest". Inherent in this mandate is that we must question all we have been shown or taught. We must learn and research on our own, rather than just accepting what we are told at face value. There is no magic, voodoo or chicken blood. What works in KM works because of the good science behind it - physics/geometry, body mechanics, ergonomics, psychology, philosophy. 

Traditional arts are beautiful and timeless because we can honor the lineage that has handed them down generation after generation. That said, many of them have become watered down and the deepest aspects of their teachings have been lost over time. The techniques have often been made "safer" for training to help avoid injury in class, adding breakfalls and other safeguards to the practice. Moreover, many of them have failed to adapt to the changing requirements of society and become inappropriate for modern times (most of us do not carry a katana during our daily commute). Some of this gives them romantic appeal (Bushido) but at the cost of relevance for modern self-defense. By contrast, the KM curriculum is under constant review, with updates generally happening more than once every year. There is a feedback loop to understand and improve the result of each topic, and many of us in the global KM community are conducting ongoing research to add to the body of knowledge we share.

In Conclusion

In conclusion, I am not explicitly saying Kali Majapahit is the answer to the author's criticisms of traditional martial arts, nor suggesting it is inherently better than other available combat sports.  Taught well, almost any martial art can be effective for any combination of martial and art. However, I am saying that a good dojo will take the best of both traditional and modern elements in order to find an approach which offers the benefits of social structure and organizational hierarchy as well as the evolutionary feedback loop in order to give students of all ages and levels the most comprehensive training experience.                



Saturday, July 22, 2023

Choosing a Bokken

 

(thanks for the inspiration Matsu)

It is said that "a master reveals himself in every action." This means that when we observe a master, his/her actions are consistent in every aspect of life. Each daily activity is subject to reflection, observation, consideration and worthy of a constant focus. A true master observes himself/herself constantly, seeking to understand in order to improve. It is the constant scrutiny of an examined life that yields the deepest insight and meaning. The awareness of every moment is the cornerstone of mindfulness.

About 20 years ago, a close friend approached me for advice. She had enrolled in Japan Action Enterprise, Shinichiro "Sonny" Chiba's legendary stunt training school, which produced dozens of stars for live action samurai dramas (called "Chanbara"), superhero shows and other events. As a former gymnast/dancer, she already had the physique and movement skills. She was excited to learn lots of new things, including the sword fighting skills. As a guy known for having trained Iaijutsu/Kenjutsu extensively, she asked me for help in choosing a bokken (wooden sword) for training. I obliged.

Together we went to Suidobashi in Tokyo, a place famous for martial arts gear shops, particularly kobudo and kendo gear. This was the best place to find a suitable bokken. There were many lengths/sizes to choose from. I explained about the types of wood used and the types of training typically done with each variant. In the end, she approached me with one, handed it over and said with a big smile "I like this one." It felt like a pair of chopsticks...thin, flimsy and very. very light. I asked "Why this one? It's so light?" She looked at me as if I was stupid. "I like this one just because it's very light!"

In that moment, I saw that she and I were very different. 

I remembered my initial training in Japanese sword and choosing my first bokken during the summer of 1980 when I was just 14 years old. My teacher took me to the big martial arts supply store in downtown Chicago and made me choose, just as I had made her choose. I brought back a bokken that felt like a tree trunk and weighed like a telephone pole. It was far too heavy for me. My teacher smiled. I thought he might have been quietly proud of me. I chose that one specifically because it was solid and heavy, hoping that swinging it 10,000 times would make me strong. It did. Since then, I always choose the heaviest tool in the box.

As martial artists, it is wrong to seek shortcuts or easy ways out. In the end, we come to the dojo to practice, we join martial arts to train. The harder the training, the stronger the warrior. The more we cry in the dojo, the more we laugh on the battlefield.

Sometimes in class, I see students try to cheat the drills, not going deep enough or pushing hard enough. I see them holding back or keeping their strength in reserve. Sometimes they don't believe in the technique or in their own skills.  As a teacher, I feel it is an important part of my job to get students to appreciate the intensity of the session and face their hardships with a smile. I hope the students will understand that the deeper they go the stronger they will become. I'll support them all the way.

It is the challenges that help us become the best versions of ourselves.

Choose the heaviest bokken. You'll be glad you did.


Saturday, July 08, 2023

Kyosaku

 

(thanks for the inspiration Guro David)

Much of Buddhism is misunderstood. Especially when it comes to Zen Buddhism and Esoteric Buddhism, casual observers tend to pick and choose their favorite tidbits and ignore the rest. Often, Buddhism gets reduced to pithy catchphrases in science fiction movies or spouted from white-bearded Chinese kung fu masters. The kyosaku is sometimes attributed to physical abuse of the initiates, as if the teacher is clubbing them with a baseball bat (or threatening to do so). The reality is very different.

Many of us come to Buddhism seeking peace and tranquility, hoping the seated practice will yield a sense of "centeredness". Very soon, we realize that seated practice in Zen is really hard work. Emptying the kind is difficult. Being patient is difficult. My original teacher in Zen Buddhism, at the Japan Cultural Center on Belmont Ave. in Chicago circa 1985, used to say that if properly done Zazen should leave you pouring with sweat. In the Zen world, peace is hard-earned indeed.

While seated, the legs tire, the mind wanders, the posture slumps, fatigue sets in, we lose our connection to the NOW...focus becomes, well...unfocused. The kyosaku is an important tool in the training.

Usually, the kyosaku is employed by the teacher to help sharpen up the students' focus as they sit. When a student feels themselves waning and unable to recover, they bow forward as the teacher approaches. The teacher bows back, and sharply strikes the space between the shoulder and neck with a quick tap from the kyosaku. The sudden shock causes no injury whatsoever, but jolts the student back to focus. The students are asking for help to refocus. They want it. 

In Kali Majapahit, we do not employ the kyosaku nor anything resembling it. That said, sometimes students need a "reset" to refocus for the remainder of the current drill or next activity. Using our words properly, we can shock the students back to the present moment and present engagement.  It is our job as teachers to help the students when they need it so they can remain high energy/high focus. Rather than spikes and dips, we try to keep the engagement and energy level at a consistently high level throughout by changing drills/partners/activities, giving feedback, challenging and gentling bringing each student out of their comfort zone. As Guro Fred often says, at the end of class we want them to be sweaty, smiling and satisfied.

Outside the dojo too, various distractions can occur that can keep us from staying focused on our goals and moving forward. There is a time for rest, of course, but not just because you are unable to stay on task. Each of us have (or should have, anyway) a thing we do to get our focus backup and remain engaged in the activity at hand. I stand up, stretch, and look out the window for a moment. In the worst case, I go take a cold shower to refresh myself. That always works for me.

What's YOUR kyosaku??