I'm really of two minds about the whole "true martial mastery is about not fighting". On one hand it's a good ideal, especially to teach to children. With any luck they'll get through the hormone-storm of adolescence without hurting people and become law-abiding ethical adults. On the other, it's simply not true. Martial arts really are about struggle, conflict and fighting. Yes, the inner jihad is more important than the outer jihad, but when you come right down to it they are and always have been about developing skills that you can use to fight in one arena or another. It might be an Octagon. It might be the stealing cattle from the folks down the road. It might be on the fencing strip, the battlefield, the barroom or against criminals who want to do crime on you. It comes down to prevailing by the standards one sets in the arena one finds oneself in. Most people who get into the martial arts come there with an expectation that they will come out the other end being able to fight.
That's where the title of this thread comes from. When my Silat teacher was a kid his uncle who taught him Minangkabau Harimau lived a fair distance away. He was at an age where it just wasn't fitting to be learning from his grandmother. So he went out looking for Silat. Every time he came back saying a potential guru did this or that or had such and such a title and lineage his grandmother only had one question for him. "Yes Stevie, but can he fight?" If he couldn't answer with an unequivocal "Yes" she wasn't interested. If he could there were other questions. Finally he found a really good one who could fight and teach and was a good man. The rest, as they say, is history.
Most people start martial arts thinking they will be better fighters whether the fight is on the street or on the tournament floor. And to a large degree we let them down. There are plenty of coaches; let's be honest, most of what gurus, senseis, sifus and the rest do is simple coaching. Some of them can teach you to function and prevail under pressure. Many simply can not. Maybe they could, but they have self doubts. Or their aim may be something else entirely like financial gain or creating a community with themselves as the focus of attention. They may have higher goals like cultural conservation or personal development. In any case there are a lot of avenues for separating the student from his or her money, time and some fraction of autonomy in ways which do not advance his or her goals.
There's a classic bait-and-switch that goes on in a lot of martial marketing. You hold out the promise that the students will be able to protect themselves. Then you say that it's wrong to fight and the real skill lies in avoiding conflict. But you should continue to spend hours and gold because of the teacher's ineffable wisdom and because you have a chance to gain status within the group.
Another common ploy is "Well, that's just fighting. What we're interested in is the Art." And the Art, so the students are told, is in the deeper meaning and beauty of the choreography and the chance to give submission signals to people with higher status who stand in the front of the class (they call that humility and respect). The whole deception, and in all honesty it's as much self deception on the part of those in charge, is in what they mean by "Art". The older meaning from which we get the word martial arts is great skill and depth of accomplishment that transcends simple mastery of the external form. That's why alchemy was called "The Great Art". It isn't that the smell of charcoal, sulfur and nitric acid was particularly esthetic. It's that the accomplishment of the stages of the Great Work implied a mastery over the fundamental workings of the universe and realms above and below.
At some point a person in these practices may get good enough that his or her skill becomes Art. And from the point of aesthetics there is great beauty in any skill done well, efficient movement and all the attributes of casual competence. Those are mere side effects.
Others will say that they are teaching philosophy and spiritual development. The process of developing mastery certainly yields important personal benefits. And martial arts can be an excellent vehicle for it. But if that is what you are interested in there are other avenues. There are rabbis, bonzes, shamans, shaykhs, priests and others who specialize in that sort of training. Almost all martial arts teachers are really specialized athletic coaches with exotic-looking workout gear.
A lot of people who start up in martial arts of one sort or another really don't want to learn to fight. They aren't particularly comfortable with the idea. And let's face it, people who are trying to hurt you is a pretty scary thing. Some recognize this and go to the dojo to overcome that fear or function in spite of it. Many show up in order to insulate themselves from it. If violence and fear can be put away in a safe ritualized part of their lives they don't have to deal with them at less pleasant levels. The notion that the higher levels of martial arts are peaceful and shun violence appeals. The students can feel superior in their elevated understanding and good about themselves.
Not getting into fights is a good thing, no doubt about it. Whenever you throw down there's a chance you will be hurt or killed. The common advice here "Only fight when you absolutely have to" is excellent and very true. But even if you aren't interested in trouble trouble may very well be interested in you. If the time comes and you can't do unto others what they are trying to do unto you your time and money have been wasted, and you've probably been sold a bill of goods.
"Should I?" is a good question. But too often an obsessive concern with that and repeated rejections of violence by those who purport to teach the combative arts eclipses the elephant in the martial living room. "Can I?" and "How do I know I can?"
This is at the heart of at least one discussion going on elsewhere about whether having killed someone should be in one's bio. Of course it shouldn't. For a number of legal reasons if nothing else. It's also a very personal matter, not something to be shouted from the rooftops to passing strangers. And I'm really sure I wouldn't want to know the kind of person who proclaims it for one and all to hear. My response would probably be "That's nice. Now keep the hands where I can see them and get the hell out of the way between me and the door."
But buried in there are legitimate questions. "What do you know and how do you know it?" "Why should I listen to you?" "Can you actually fight or is it just acrobatics in the dojo done in funny clothes? If you can't why should I waste my time with you?"
I've heard students ask teachers the classic question "Have you ever used it?" And I've heard a lot of teachers say "Every day. I've learned to avoid trouble and be more at peace with myself." That's wonderful, but it's not answering the real question. Even worse, it's weaseling out by distracting the student from what he or she really wants to know which is for some indication that the product works as advertised. Can you fight? Can you teach me to fight? Can you prepare me to deal with what I'll have to deal with with a minimum of damage to myself? Will I be able to make The Decision if I ever have to (G-d forbid)? And is this the best way to get what I'm looking for?
At the highest levels the people who are really good at this often but not always become more peaceful. They don't have much to prove. They've gotten what they're looking for. They realize what my first Silat teacher says "Your butt is a finite resource." But that is a result. To get there you have to go through the fire, and there aren't any shortcuts. Part of it is the confidence that you can do what you need to. And that's where many teachers are feeding their students a line. They are selling false confidence and the illusions of skill and moral superiority while shortchanging their pupils in the real thing.
That's yet another reason why I love LFI-1. You get a hell of an education in how to shoot. You get an even better one in when to shoot and when not to shoot. You learn to avoid bad situations, but ultimately you learn that there are times when the right thing to do is drop the hammer. You have to do it with a clear conscience and no hesitation when it is the right thing to do.
That's where the title of this thread comes from. When my Silat teacher was a kid his uncle who taught him Minangkabau Harimau lived a fair distance away. He was at an age where it just wasn't fitting to be learning from his grandmother. So he went out looking for Silat. Every time he came back saying a potential guru did this or that or had such and such a title and lineage his grandmother only had one question for him. "Yes Stevie, but can he fight?" If he couldn't answer with an unequivocal "Yes" she wasn't interested. If he could there were other questions. Finally he found a really good one who could fight and teach and was a good man. The rest, as they say, is history.
Most people start martial arts thinking they will be better fighters whether the fight is on the street or on the tournament floor. And to a large degree we let them down. There are plenty of coaches; let's be honest, most of what gurus, senseis, sifus and the rest do is simple coaching. Some of them can teach you to function and prevail under pressure. Many simply can not. Maybe they could, but they have self doubts. Or their aim may be something else entirely like financial gain or creating a community with themselves as the focus of attention. They may have higher goals like cultural conservation or personal development. In any case there are a lot of avenues for separating the student from his or her money, time and some fraction of autonomy in ways which do not advance his or her goals.
There's a classic bait-and-switch that goes on in a lot of martial marketing. You hold out the promise that the students will be able to protect themselves. Then you say that it's wrong to fight and the real skill lies in avoiding conflict. But you should continue to spend hours and gold because of the teacher's ineffable wisdom and because you have a chance to gain status within the group.
Another common ploy is "Well, that's just fighting. What we're interested in is the Art." And the Art, so the students are told, is in the deeper meaning and beauty of the choreography and the chance to give submission signals to people with higher status who stand in the front of the class (they call that humility and respect). The whole deception, and in all honesty it's as much self deception on the part of those in charge, is in what they mean by "Art". The older meaning from which we get the word martial arts is great skill and depth of accomplishment that transcends simple mastery of the external form. That's why alchemy was called "The Great Art". It isn't that the smell of charcoal, sulfur and nitric acid was particularly esthetic. It's that the accomplishment of the stages of the Great Work implied a mastery over the fundamental workings of the universe and realms above and below.
At some point a person in these practices may get good enough that his or her skill becomes Art. And from the point of aesthetics there is great beauty in any skill done well, efficient movement and all the attributes of casual competence. Those are mere side effects.
Others will say that they are teaching philosophy and spiritual development. The process of developing mastery certainly yields important personal benefits. And martial arts can be an excellent vehicle for it. But if that is what you are interested in there are other avenues. There are rabbis, bonzes, shamans, shaykhs, priests and others who specialize in that sort of training. Almost all martial arts teachers are really specialized athletic coaches with exotic-looking workout gear.
A lot of people who start up in martial arts of one sort or another really don't want to learn to fight. They aren't particularly comfortable with the idea. And let's face it, people who are trying to hurt you is a pretty scary thing. Some recognize this and go to the dojo to overcome that fear or function in spite of it. Many show up in order to insulate themselves from it. If violence and fear can be put away in a safe ritualized part of their lives they don't have to deal with them at less pleasant levels. The notion that the higher levels of martial arts are peaceful and shun violence appeals. The students can feel superior in their elevated understanding and good about themselves.
Not getting into fights is a good thing, no doubt about it. Whenever you throw down there's a chance you will be hurt or killed. The common advice here "Only fight when you absolutely have to" is excellent and very true. But even if you aren't interested in trouble trouble may very well be interested in you. If the time comes and you can't do unto others what they are trying to do unto you your time and money have been wasted, and you've probably been sold a bill of goods.
"Should I?" is a good question. But too often an obsessive concern with that and repeated rejections of violence by those who purport to teach the combative arts eclipses the elephant in the martial living room. "Can I?" and "How do I know I can?"
This is at the heart of at least one discussion going on elsewhere about whether having killed someone should be in one's bio. Of course it shouldn't. For a number of legal reasons if nothing else. It's also a very personal matter, not something to be shouted from the rooftops to passing strangers. And I'm really sure I wouldn't want to know the kind of person who proclaims it for one and all to hear. My response would probably be "That's nice. Now keep the hands where I can see them and get the hell out of the way between me and the door."
But buried in there are legitimate questions. "What do you know and how do you know it?" "Why should I listen to you?" "Can you actually fight or is it just acrobatics in the dojo done in funny clothes? If you can't why should I waste my time with you?"
I've heard students ask teachers the classic question "Have you ever used it?" And I've heard a lot of teachers say "Every day. I've learned to avoid trouble and be more at peace with myself." That's wonderful, but it's not answering the real question. Even worse, it's weaseling out by distracting the student from what he or she really wants to know which is for some indication that the product works as advertised. Can you fight? Can you teach me to fight? Can you prepare me to deal with what I'll have to deal with with a minimum of damage to myself? Will I be able to make The Decision if I ever have to (G-d forbid)? And is this the best way to get what I'm looking for?
At the highest levels the people who are really good at this often but not always become more peaceful. They don't have much to prove. They've gotten what they're looking for. They realize what my first Silat teacher says "Your butt is a finite resource." But that is a result. To get there you have to go through the fire, and there aren't any shortcuts. Part of it is the confidence that you can do what you need to. And that's where many teachers are feeding their students a line. They are selling false confidence and the illusions of skill and moral superiority while shortchanging their pupils in the real thing.
That's yet another reason why I love LFI-1. You get a hell of an education in how to shoot. You get an even better one in when to shoot and when not to shoot. You learn to avoid bad situations, but ultimately you learn that there are times when the right thing to do is drop the hammer. You have to do it with a clear conscience and no hesitation when it is the right thing to do.
