by Phillip Starr
In the
practice of contemporary martial arts there is a tendency for
instructors and students to shy away from any training routine that
involves the possibility of much discomfort or injury. This is only
natural; as human beings we usually don't usually flock to engage in
activities that are inherently painful or risky and we tend to take a
hard look at those "weirdos" who do.
I recall
watching a group of students practice one-step fighting in a
particular martial arts school some years ago. The attacker would
step back into the usual pre-attack position, executing a snappy low
block as he did so. When the receiver was ready to perform his
defensive maneuver he would utter a strong qi-he (kiai) and the
attacker would execute a powerful lunging thrust. The receiver would
step back, block the attack, and deliver a crisp counter-attack.
Sound
familiar? Sure, it does. It's the usual one-step fighting drill.
Except for one thing...
The
participants were standing at least eight feet apart. When the
receiver executed his blocking technique he never touched the
aggressor's arm! And when he counter-punched his fist was at least
four feet away from the attacker's body!
Naturally,
I asked the instructor why the students didn't touch each other at
all during this common training exercise. He told me that he didn't
want them to bruise their arms or risk striking each other if their
blows weren't adequately controlled.
Good
Lord.
Well,
these folks will be in great shape if they're ever attacked by a
strong gust of wind.
Now,
don't get me wrong. I certainly don't advocate uncontrolled violence
as a training tool. I remember visiting another martial arts school
whose members engaged in full-contact sparring within two weeks of
enrollment! The neophytes, who had no real knowledge of martial arts
technique, were thrown to the lions (the more experienced students)
like so much raw meat. To say they got the stuffing pounded out of
them would be a serious understatement. The instructor reasoned that
if one wanted to become skilled at fighting one had to know what it
is like to get hit. Students were told that they had to learn to
keep going even if they'd been struck very forcefully because this is
what "real combat is like."
Good
thing they didn't teach swordsmanship.
Certainly,
I believe that students need to develop strong technique and a strong
spirit through rigorous training. The key word in that sentence is
rigorous. I believe that real martial arts technique and spirit
cannot be understood or developed except through the application of
controlled violence.
Beginning
students are unable to understand this concept and it has to be
presented to them very gradually. But as they grow and develop their
skills, they must learn to accept this fact and train accordingly.
Violence is, after all, why the martial arts were originally
developed. They were not cultivated to help their followers discover
their "inner child", as a panacea for various ailments, or
for thrilling audiences.
I
recently told my students that they would learn much more from pain
and discomfort than they ever would from sheltered contentment. In
traditional Japanese martial arts there is a term describing this
type of practice. It is nangyo (in Chinese, nanhang). It refers to
hardship (nan) and a road which is traveled by many people, perhaps a
crossroads. This is an accepted part of the traditional martial
ways; a necessary ingredient for the development of true skill and
understanding. The Chinese usually refer to this particular aspect
of training as qi-ku (literally, "eat bitter").
In
contrast to the aforementioned karate school wherein participants
never touched each other, the former head of the Japan Karate
Association, Master Masatoshi Nakayama (dec.), recalled that when he
was training under Master Gichin Funakoshi during his college years
his arms would be so sore and bruised from blocking his partner's
attacks that he could hardly lift them. Another kendo master spoke
of being struck so hard on the front of his helmet (men) that it
knocked him to his knees and splintered his partner's shinai.
Students
of the legendary Morihei Uyeshiba (founder of aikido) recalled how
his vise-like grip would leave bruises on their wrists and Americans
who trained in judo under the revered Kyuzo Mifune spoke of being
thrown so hard that they were rendered unconscious. My own teacher,
Master W. C. Chen, remembered seeing exhausted classmates bow, run
out of the drill line, and vomit.
Some of
these things would be considered a tad excessive by today's standards
but it gives you an idea of what traditional training was like "back
in the day." It was not done because the instructor was a
sadistic brute who wanted to puff out his machismo for all the world
to see (although such instructors, if that term can be applied to
them, have always existed). The instructor's first and only concern
was for the students, to help them develop real skill as opposed to
something that only looks good but has no real internal substance.
In time,
students develop a strong sense of self-confidence. They don't fear
being attacked because that happens every night that they attend
class. Some years ago one of my students was forced to defend
himself against what I call an "Americanus Vomitus"
(otherwise known as a common "puke"). When he told me
about it he smiled and said, "I wasn't really afraid of the guy
at all. Heck, I get punched at by professionals at least three times
a week in the training hall!"
For the
teachers of the traditional budo ("martial ways"; in
Chinese, wu-dao) it's a delicate balance; how far to push the
students and keep the violence inherent within the martial arts under
control. Naturally, no competent teacher wants to see a student get
hurt but some minor injuries are unavoidable and to be expected.
Anyone who's spent much time in the martial arts has had his or her
fair share of split lips, strawberries, bruises, and the like. Some
have even broken a small bone or two. It happens; it's simply the
nature of the beast and a necessary part of the developmental
processes of the budo. But it is the responsibility of the
instructor and senior students to do their best to ensure that the
violence never escalates beyond a certain level.
As a
student's skill increases the attacks he faces in the training hall
must be more realistic until, at an advanced level, they are real.
That is, if he fails to perform his defensive maneuver correctly he
may well be knocked on his tail.
At the
same time, students must (gradually) learn that a bloody lip isn't
the end of the world and it's still possible to continue training
even after getting smacked in the ribs. Qi-ku.