This post is a continuation of my earlier reply to zDom and my second post to him on the issue of the relationship between TKD/TSD, on the one hand, and the Okinawan/Japanese combat systems grouped together under the generic label `karate', on the other, and is intended to respond to Last Fearner's long post earlier in this thread. LF and I have exchanged our very different perspectives on this question a number of times, in different threads. My response isn't really intended so much to persuade him as it is to convince an undecided spectator to the debate that there really is no warrant at all for LF's main contention about the current Korean striking arts: that they represent the synthesis of an imported O/J combat system with a robust, well-developed palatte of native Korean fighting techniques transmitted continuously from ancient times, possibly as long ago as the Three Kingdoms phase. What I want to argue is that there is no evidence whatever, either physical or documentary, to support the existence of this Korean `substratum', and that, on the contrary, all evidence strongly suggests that Korean martial practice up till the late 19th century was largely derived from Chinese practice. As noted in Dakin Burdick's seminal papers `People and events of Taekwondo's Formative Years', the first in the 1997 volume of JAMA, and the extended version at http://budosportcopelle.ml/gesch.html,
Of course, most literature on taekwondo describes the art as `thousands of years old', but this is simply not so. Most of the martial arts practiced in Korea before the nineteenth century were merely reflections of Chinese martial arts. The three most common pieces of evidence for the antiquity of taekwondo—the tomb murals of Koguryo Kingdom, the statue of Kumkang-Yuksa, and the Muye dobo tongji (Illustrated Manual of Martial Arts)—actually show that early Korean martial arts were largely derivative of Chinese martial arts(my emphasis)
I'll divide my discussion into the physical evidence on the one hand and the literary evidence on the other.
Physical evidence: So far as the archaeological evidence goes, Burdick points out that the Koguryo tomb murals, which depict (among other martial activities) groups of men seemingly engaged in empty-hand combat, actually constitute no evidence at all bearing on ancient Korean martial art, because, as he puts it in an earlier study,
none of the Koguryo tomb murals can be definitively identified as the practice of a kicking and striking art. The murals on the ceiling of the Muyong-chong are said to show `two men practicing a sort of Taekwondo'. They actually show two men—both with goatee, moustache and long hair—wearing loin cloths. They are at least four feet apart (their outstretched hands are a foot away from each other). The positions could be stretching, dancing or possibly wrestling Mongolian style, but they certainly do not resemble modern Taekwondo stances or techniques.'
The joke, as it happens, is that, according to Burdick `the martial arts depicted in Koguryo tomb murals closely resemble those in the tomb murals of the Eastern Han, located in what is now eastern China. This suggests that the form of Koguryo era martial arts emerged because of Chinese cultural influence, rather than independent development by the future Koreans'.
Of the second-most-often cited piece of material evidence bearing on the existence of an ancient Korean combat system which contributed tothe current MAs TKD/TSD, Burdick comments that `the statue of Kumkang-Yuksa at Sokkuram, which is often cited as the figure of an ancient warrior practicing taekwondo, is in fact a Buddhist guardian figure found throughout East Asia, and thus cannot be said to be unique to Korea either.' Stanley Henning's 2000 JAMA article `Traditional Korean Martial Arts' echoes this observation, noting that `these guardians are in the style common to contemporary Tang China (618–907), on which they were most assuredly modeled. Even some reputable Korean sources refer to these figures as `wrestlers' rather than `boxers', but they are most commonly called `strong men' (lishi in Chinese or ryuksa in Korean).' (p.10; my emphasis).
It might be of interest that the first and most insistent voice proclaiming these completely indeterminate items of evidence as support for ancient TKD/TSD/whatever comes was Tatashi Saito, who (i) was Japanese, not Korean and (ii) had no martial arts background whatever that would have enabled him to comment authoritatively on technical elements of any MA supposedly portreyed in a visual art. His monograph Study of Culture in Ancient Korea states, with not a single argument in support, that the paintings in question are representations of TKD. The WTF has been complicit in this unsupported identification of ancient figures with TKD practice, claiming, as Burdick points out, that `the ceiling of Sambo-chong show[ing] a man in deep horse stance who apears to pushing the walls apart' is an instance of `Poomse practicing of Taekwondo'—a claim, Burdick drily observes, `that would be hard to determine from a single figure, and certainly not the simplest explanation of the position'.
Literary documentation: The primary source for any claim about the content of ancient indigneous KMAs is the massive late 18th c. Korean martial arts manual Muye dobo tongji, supposedly an encyclopaedia of native Korean combat techniques. But this massive tome turns out to be, as Burdick notes, `nearly identical to the Jixiao Xinshu (New Book for Effective Discipline)... by the Chinese General Qi Jiguang (1528–1587)', written nearly two and a half centuries earlier. (The translation and transliteration task involved, as Burdick notes, would have been well within the capabilities of the Muye dobo tongji's author, `a scholar famed for his erudition in classical Chinese'). Henning, in the 2000 JAMA paper crucial to this topic offers a detailed breakdown of the sources of the techniques discussed in the Muye dobo tongji, noting the separate weapons and techniques itemized there.
Burdick's conclusion—that `the three pieces of evidence most often cited as supporting the existence of an ancient form of taekwondo actually support the opposite viewpoint and demonstrate that Korean martial arts imitated Chinese martial arts until at least 1800'—should pour some much-needed cold water on zealous claims, made by partisan advocates of an `ancient' avatar of TKD, that evidence exists that could stand up in court for at least some components of the modern Korean national MA deriving from early, strictly native sources. The somewhat surprising truth of the matter is that, as Henning reminds us in his 2000 JAMA overview, `there are no descriptive Korean references to the martial arts prior to the Koryo History', a 15th c. ms. (p.10). The `reach' of the Koryo History is supposedly from the 10th to the end of the 14th c., but given the sparsity of the documentary record, it's likely that the reliability of this chronicle decreases significantly in proportion to the antiquity of its coverage. Based on this and subsequent work, however, it is possible to conclude with some confidence that Korean and Chinese military weapons and arts were extremely similar.
But what about Taekkyon, the allegedly ancient Korean foot/leg combat art that is commonly invoked by `nativist' advocates of roots in the distant past for contemporary striking KMAs? What about the testimony of Gen. Choi himself that he based the technical content of TKD at least in part (a larger and larger part as the interview date distance from the Korean War increases, as I'll document in my next post) on taekkyon? What about all those supposed references to taekkyon, subak and other allegedly indigenous fighting `systems'? It turns out that these have no more substance than the archaeological and literary claims I've already discussed. On to the next post...
Of course, most literature on taekwondo describes the art as `thousands of years old', but this is simply not so. Most of the martial arts practiced in Korea before the nineteenth century were merely reflections of Chinese martial arts. The three most common pieces of evidence for the antiquity of taekwondo—the tomb murals of Koguryo Kingdom, the statue of Kumkang-Yuksa, and the Muye dobo tongji (Illustrated Manual of Martial Arts)—actually show that early Korean martial arts were largely derivative of Chinese martial arts(my emphasis)
I'll divide my discussion into the physical evidence on the one hand and the literary evidence on the other.
Physical evidence: So far as the archaeological evidence goes, Burdick points out that the Koguryo tomb murals, which depict (among other martial activities) groups of men seemingly engaged in empty-hand combat, actually constitute no evidence at all bearing on ancient Korean martial art, because, as he puts it in an earlier study,
none of the Koguryo tomb murals can be definitively identified as the practice of a kicking and striking art. The murals on the ceiling of the Muyong-chong are said to show `two men practicing a sort of Taekwondo'. They actually show two men—both with goatee, moustache and long hair—wearing loin cloths. They are at least four feet apart (their outstretched hands are a foot away from each other). The positions could be stretching, dancing or possibly wrestling Mongolian style, but they certainly do not resemble modern Taekwondo stances or techniques.'
The joke, as it happens, is that, according to Burdick `the martial arts depicted in Koguryo tomb murals closely resemble those in the tomb murals of the Eastern Han, located in what is now eastern China. This suggests that the form of Koguryo era martial arts emerged because of Chinese cultural influence, rather than independent development by the future Koreans'.
Of the second-most-often cited piece of material evidence bearing on the existence of an ancient Korean combat system which contributed tothe current MAs TKD/TSD, Burdick comments that `the statue of Kumkang-Yuksa at Sokkuram, which is often cited as the figure of an ancient warrior practicing taekwondo, is in fact a Buddhist guardian figure found throughout East Asia, and thus cannot be said to be unique to Korea either.' Stanley Henning's 2000 JAMA article `Traditional Korean Martial Arts' echoes this observation, noting that `these guardians are in the style common to contemporary Tang China (618–907), on which they were most assuredly modeled. Even some reputable Korean sources refer to these figures as `wrestlers' rather than `boxers', but they are most commonly called `strong men' (lishi in Chinese or ryuksa in Korean).' (p.10; my emphasis).
It might be of interest that the first and most insistent voice proclaiming these completely indeterminate items of evidence as support for ancient TKD/TSD/whatever comes was Tatashi Saito, who (i) was Japanese, not Korean and (ii) had no martial arts background whatever that would have enabled him to comment authoritatively on technical elements of any MA supposedly portreyed in a visual art. His monograph Study of Culture in Ancient Korea states, with not a single argument in support, that the paintings in question are representations of TKD. The WTF has been complicit in this unsupported identification of ancient figures with TKD practice, claiming, as Burdick points out, that `the ceiling of Sambo-chong show[ing] a man in deep horse stance who apears to pushing the walls apart' is an instance of `Poomse practicing of Taekwondo'—a claim, Burdick drily observes, `that would be hard to determine from a single figure, and certainly not the simplest explanation of the position'.
Literary documentation: The primary source for any claim about the content of ancient indigneous KMAs is the massive late 18th c. Korean martial arts manual Muye dobo tongji, supposedly an encyclopaedia of native Korean combat techniques. But this massive tome turns out to be, as Burdick notes, `nearly identical to the Jixiao Xinshu (New Book for Effective Discipline)... by the Chinese General Qi Jiguang (1528–1587)', written nearly two and a half centuries earlier. (The translation and transliteration task involved, as Burdick notes, would have been well within the capabilities of the Muye dobo tongji's author, `a scholar famed for his erudition in classical Chinese'). Henning, in the 2000 JAMA paper crucial to this topic offers a detailed breakdown of the sources of the techniques discussed in the Muye dobo tongji, noting the separate weapons and techniques itemized there.
Burdick's conclusion—that `the three pieces of evidence most often cited as supporting the existence of an ancient form of taekwondo actually support the opposite viewpoint and demonstrate that Korean martial arts imitated Chinese martial arts until at least 1800'—should pour some much-needed cold water on zealous claims, made by partisan advocates of an `ancient' avatar of TKD, that evidence exists that could stand up in court for at least some components of the modern Korean national MA deriving from early, strictly native sources. The somewhat surprising truth of the matter is that, as Henning reminds us in his 2000 JAMA overview, `there are no descriptive Korean references to the martial arts prior to the Koryo History', a 15th c. ms. (p.10). The `reach' of the Koryo History is supposedly from the 10th to the end of the 14th c., but given the sparsity of the documentary record, it's likely that the reliability of this chronicle decreases significantly in proportion to the antiquity of its coverage. Based on this and subsequent work, however, it is possible to conclude with some confidence that Korean and Chinese military weapons and arts were extremely similar.
But what about Taekkyon, the allegedly ancient Korean foot/leg combat art that is commonly invoked by `nativist' advocates of roots in the distant past for contemporary striking KMAs? What about the testimony of Gen. Choi himself that he based the technical content of TKD at least in part (a larger and larger part as the interview date distance from the Korean War increases, as I'll document in my next post) on taekkyon? What about all those supposed references to taekkyon, subak and other allegedly indigenous fighting `systems'? It turns out that these have no more substance than the archaeological and literary claims I've already discussed. On to the next post...