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The
Challenge of Defining a Martial Art By John Clements Defining a martial art is often problematic because the
term has so many different meanings to so many different people today. Drawing the line between what was and was not historically a
legitimate fighting system is problematic. In a way it is almost like trying to
define "obscenity." Everyone "knows it" when they see it but everyone has their
own definition of what "it" is. The plethora of martial arts styles and systems
today, many with vastly varying degrees of combat utility, only cloud the
issue. (Attempting to define what constitutes being a true "martial artist" is
something even less meaningful). There
is also
no question that as they are now pursued some are more "martial" and
others more "art." It can be further acknowledged that the historical
process of natural
selection is largely no longer at work to weed out ineffective
approaches or
inferior theories. A martial art, in essence, can be said to be something that
originates in skills of war, hence its "martial" or warlike quality. Fighting
disciplines range from oral traditions and folkways of tribal self-defense
customs, to collected sets of techniques and finally systematic methods with
established curricula and ranking hierarchies. Considerable
literature has been produced over the last few
decades on the question of what defines a martial art, and there is no
need to
review these arguments here. We can note, however, that these debates
have occurred almost exclusively without regard to, or consideration
of, the martial arts of Renaissance Europe. What is frequently agreed upon, though, is that
mere fighting techniques alone, whether as self-defense skills for the
individual or war skills for groups of armed men, do not constitute an Art of fighting.
Just fighting can make one a fighter, after all, but to be a "martial artist" implies something more is required. While not addressing the issue, there is debate within
martial arts circles today over differences between combat-sports and
fighting-arts. Although each activity comes from a common root of war skills
for individual defense, neither combat sports nor fighting arts today
necessarily have any true self-defense intention as their function. Yet, linguistics aside, the central issue of
identifying or labeling any combative mode as a "true martial art" is often an
issue of recognizing its function.
That is, is it about defense in combat or not? Is it directed at individual skills for personal defense
through a codified system? Or is it something conveyed by simple folkways or
vernacular teachings comprised of group preparation for military action? For example, Neolithic peoples may very
well have instinctively devised optimal ways of holding their pointed sticks
and stone clubs, such that they naturally passed on simple notions of striking,
warding, and feinting. Could we
describe such a thing as "caveman martial arts"? A society after all can have effective prowessr in an "Art of fighting" for civilian (personal) or military (group) combat without having a
cogent "Art of war" for their armed forces. It might be asked, is military
science really just martial arts on a grand scale, or are martial arts in
essence military science for the individual? Arguably, there is a significant difference between
preparing clusters of troops to advance and retreat in good order for
effectively holding lines in battle, and that of training an individual
fighting-man for personal self-defense. There is also a considerable difference
between, for example, training a horseman to use a bow in the saddle compared
to a member of a warrior caste developing skill in arms on foot for use in
armored duel. While each activity involves overlapping disciplines of
learning techniques for wielding weapons and controlling oneself, the former
can arguably be said to concern "military skills." Whereas the latter can be said to concern the practice of "fighting arts." Merely fighting does not in itself imply having any methodological craft of systematic fighting. Observing children on a playground is
evidence enough for this.
Similarly, having a military does not automatically imply a doctrine of
military science. Not every one who goes armed is a "warrior" and not every
warrior is a martialist let alone professionally trained. We cannot (and
indeed, must not) assume that every tribe or people in the world that ever had
arms, that ever had warriors and engaged in some form of warfare, necessarily
must have had "martial arts." That is, established and transmitted skill sets
based upon scientific understanding of the immutable underlying principles and
concepts of close-combat (let alone ones that contained a philosophical or
ethical/spiritual component). Indeed, for the
most part in
history, warriors were merely those who relied on superior physical
attributes,
superior arms technology, and (invariably) greater brutality. History
is filled
with examples of bands of armed men, gangs of thugs, and hordes of
fighters
acting without any underlying combative discipline or operational
craft. And
history is replete with instances of people given weapons and sent to
fight
with little to no organized training. The logical observation posed by
martial
arts historians is that, if a society or culture didn't even have a
word for "martial art" its very hard to then argue that they had Martial Arts. It
might be looked at as akin to the difference between simply cooking something in
contrast to preparing a cuisine. There is a difference of magnitude, quality,
and expertise as well as intention. But because learning a craft of defense against violence
(rather than one of mere athletic display) does not take place in an emotional
(or moral) vacuum, the pursuit of a martial discipline itself eventually has an
affect upon the psyche of the individual. It goes beyond the simple acquisition
of mere technical prowess. It comes to address the mental/emotional challenge
for the individual to deal with their own anger and fear during violent
conflicts. While military science
deals only with the "how" of armed forces, in contrast, whenever and wherever a
Martial Art developed there is present a concern not just with "How" it was to
be used by the individual, but "Why."
It is hard to think of an example of a historical fighting system where
the ethical value element is absent or to point to a culture where such was
ignored in their martial art. We might even ask, are there examples from
history where individual warrior elites pursued an actual combat system of mere
technique without developing it into a martial art? The evidence would imply the very nature of the activity of
training to fight effectively requires addressing the emotionality and the
psychology of close combat, complete with certain attenuated ethical or
spiritual components. In learning to use skills of violent force, then,
the question becomes when and where to apply that knowledge. Therein lies
the context for ethical and spiritual components. Different cultures may
develop different answers to different degrees, but neither proceeds without
the other. Perhaps the only reason some students of modern martial arts today
may think to see it differently is because they are not using such skills for
survival any more nor relying on them as a way of life as their ancestors once
did (generations of civilianization and sportification having de-martialized
the craft). Their mindset is not on the practicality of simple survival skills. In contrast to the practice of warfare, it is focus upon a
craft of armed and unarmed personal close-combat (particularly among a warrior
elite) that more often than not finds need for a warrior code or system of
martial value to guide the individual. Because of this, the idea has been
proposed that a different value component is at work within the individual's
study of a fighting Art that differs from the unit cohesion or esprit de
corps among a mere armed grouping of
fighting men or soldiers. Where then does the element of Art come in to all this? Is
it just semantics? There is arguably a certain subjective aspect in a martial
art. In the same way that "art" itself is in the eye of the beholder, so too
martial arts are sometimes in the hand of the wielder, so to speak. That is, the activity goes beyond
scientific application of effectiveness and into the realm of meeting the
individual practitioner's motives and goals that may have little to do with
actual self-defense utility. (For
example, it is possible to repeatedly defeat particular opponents in practice
fighting yet still have them not acknowledge the undeniable faults or
inferiority of their style, system, or method because for them it is just not
about credible fighting ability.) Or is the "art" aspect a matter of the individual creatively
acting beyond mere technical application to combine and adapt higher concepts
and principles for their personal need within a framework of certain
values? Is a legitimate Martial
Art born when mere fighting techniques credible for war or self-defense become
an organized method containing a value system? Many think so. This is not
to deny that there can be an aesthetic quality to the flawless execution of
movements in mere theoretical practice, rather only to acknowledge that
balletic display is not the purpose of war skills. War skills learned and
practiced with the intention of fighting require a fighting mindset. Historically, when it came to war and duel only the toughest
and bravest men would enter into close combat on foot (in contrast to firing
ranged weapons or maneuvering on horseback from a distance). This required
particular fighting skills were honed before hand. In doing so they had to face the issues of fear and anger
that surface when life and limb is violently threatened by physically superior
opponents. Preparation for such situations only came by the discipline acquired
though training. Yet, a common element among all true martial arts in
history, whether as armed or unarmed methods of self-defense, is that they
include the striking of various blows as well as the element of closing-in with
an opponent to employ leverage. However, many martial sports today while
directly involving closing-in to grab opponents do not employ striking any blows
(i.e., judo, Greco-roman-wrestling, etc.). Others employ striking blows but not
closing-in to use leverage and pressure (i.e., boxing, kendo, modern fencing).
There are also fighting traditions that do not involve either any contact with
a partner at all but only the rote repetition of patterned movements and
rehearsed routines (i.e., tai chi, iaido). Leaving aside the question of
whether or not those activities still constitute combat effective training in
historical fighting skills, there is no arguing past the fact that, beyond
ritualized and sportified methods, earnest close-combat skills historically
demanded both closing-in proficiency with the adept striking of blows.
Regardless of the debate, for the subject of historical fencing studies we can
also note the integrated combination of both is represented throughout the
source literature on Renaissance martial arts teachings. While fighting techniques readily involve a certain science,
in that there are discernable core principles and underlying concepts that can
be employed, the nature of personal combat goes beyond this. Because neither
our own behavior nor that of others in violent confrontations can be quantified
or predicted with certainty, there are other elements that enter into play.
These require perception, wisdom, intuition, and resolve on the part of the
fighter—all things which do not stem from mere education in physical
performance of technique. This
martial spirit (Kampfgeist) ultimately rests in the values the fighting discipline conveys
and instills in the practitioner. The function of fighting techniques is to effectively cause
injury or incapacitation to another person so as to end a fight. The purpose of
a martial art however can be to improve the individual's capacity when
necessary to efficiently and humanely defend themselves by fighting techniques
and, when possible, potentially make use of such violent force superfluous.
It's the Martial that provides the how, but it's the Art that decides the why. For techniques alone do not hold values, Arts do.
It is here where meaning is found for practice to go beyond utility for
potential self-defense situations. If the study of fighting techniques as a self-defense system
does not include these factors nor speak to how the individual student of the
craft is personally affected—mentally and emotionally—by their
acquisition, how then is it a true Art of
fighting?
April 2009 |
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