Defining "Martial Art"

After a returning, refreshed and happy, to New England, I quickly moved out to Ipswich, MA for my next job as an endangered bird technician at a popular beach reserve. While searching for good training opportunities in my new locale (this should, and probably will, be described in a post at some point soon) I caught myself waxing philosophical on a prominent question often asked amongst martial artists, and one which I think I had never truly addressed until called into question by a friend.

I was struck by the idea when I received a phone call in the midst of scouring websites for martial arts schools on the North Shore. Sun-burnt and exhausted from eight hours and more than 10 miles of walking up and down the beach, I answered a simple "What's up" with a grumbling rant about how there were no "real martial arts schools" anymore and good training was just too hard to find "these days".


First of all, "these days"? Nearly a decade of training or not, what do I know about the historical quality of martial arts in the United States or anywhere else? Here I was parroting the stuffy growling of beloved yet ornery sempai in former schools at which I'd trained--from old New England construction workers to gray-haired cowboys in Central Florida who said a prayer to the Lord before every practice--yet had I actually had the experience of being disappointed and disillusioned with "modern" schools? In truth, not really. I have visited a few schools, trained with a couple students, and attended a couple seminars by which I was not impressed, or perhaps even a little concerned, by the quality of the material being taught. I have seen techniques practiced badly, some poor attitudes being taught, and false concepts being sustained by egotistical collusion, but never have I been witness to any clear evidence of the universal decline in training quality bemoaned by many of my elders. For the most part, I have been impressed by the majority of schools I have visited. So, from where did this notion arise? Apparently, my sempai and other senior students. And where did they get it? From their sempai and senior students, and so on and so forth, as far back as martial arts or fighting styles may go. A sour yet ever-present trend in the martial arts tends toward the idea that there is only one right answer, and that those practicing a given "way" are the only ones who've got it. We'll return to this wild digression later.

What's more important is the way my friend (an "outsider" of the subject in that she had never practiced a martial art) logically skewered me with a simple and crippling question. "Okay, so what is real martial art?"

"Well...!" I huffed with a time-buying glance out the window, pursing my lips as my heart gave a nervous flutter. Here I was, a self proclaimed martial arts enthusiast, unable to explain what exactly martial art was. I felt idiotic. Fortunately, she couldn't see the perspiration beading on my forehead. There was a long pause then, which in truth was probably more useful and illustrative than the bumbling, rambling, and grammatically clumsy answer which followed as I simultaneously ran my mouth and fumbled pitifully for a smart-sounding answer.

We eventually dismissed the subject, likely more out of boredom with my nervous blabbing than in satisfaction at a point well established, and moved on to everything from graduate programs to recipes for fried rice, but--somewhat predictably--it was the question of defining martial arts which stayed with me long after I hung up the phone.

I spent the next few days ruminating the subject as I intermittently roared across the beach in an ATV, watched plovers courting and mating, and trudged up and down sand dunes in search of nests. Fortunately, I have always found time in the outdoors profoundly therapeutic and conducive to thought, and it was not long before my own perspectives on the subject began to truly take form.

Throughout my journey in the martial arts I have encountered a great number ways to define them. Readily apparent is the "common knowledge" answer to the question, derived from public perception alone, which generally associates martial arts only with East-Asian origins, mysticism, and usually a fair amount of screaming (see the dictionary definition. By this definition, things like fencing and boxing are not martial arts. Perhaps more agreeable and well thought-out was Keith Vargo's definition in his article "Why Wrestling is Not a Martial Art", in which he explains that a martial art, in being a martial art and not some sort of martial sport, must have artistic characteristics; these include, but are not limited to, things like the strife for perfection of form and pursuit of personal development and beauty. Former Air Force Major Forrest E. Morgan, in his book Living the Martial Way (a solid read which I hope to review in a later entry) distinguished martial arts as all those which adhere to a "warrior" code of ethics and have technical and cultural roots in past warrior disciplines (e.g. samurai, hwarang, pankration). According to Morgan, those disciplines that don't, many of them competitive sports like "Ultimate Fighting", kickboxing, and wrestling, are simply "games" that are "played".

Morgan's rather harsh opinion on the subject (which he explains to be a toned-down version of the definition put forth by famed founder of hoplology Donn Draeger), while it does draw a distinct and not entirely arbitrary line, is the perfect example of what I believe makes this question so difficult to answer. The problem is not a dearth of solutions, but a monumental and overwhelming number of suggestions which delineate and dissect the martial arts into so many classifications and doctrinal camps that artists in different schools and associations practically exist in separate universes.The same pattern is evident in the rampant proliferation of martial arts styles and associations in the past fifty years.

Considering the multitude of definitions and delineations and panoply of people, all practicing completely different disciplines, who all insist that they are practicing "real" martial arts while those that do differently are not, I think attempting to create my own "unique" answer to this problem would defeat the purpose; I would only be adding to the jumble, contributing to the general confusion around the issue. Instead, I'd prefer to address the core of the problem. Why is it, then, that martial artists tend to be "splitters" rather than "lumpers"? Why does everyone need to differentiate themselves from the rest of the crowd, and insist that others are doing something illegitimate? What makes mixed martial artists scoff at the baroque techniques of Wushu practitioners, or makes karateka rant about the lack of realism in rule-based Ultimate fighting?

I see two possible (but not necessarily mutually exclusive) answers to this question. The first and somewhat less offensive is the need to market one's art. Since their move into the Western world (and honestly probably before that), martial artists have needed to commercialize their teachings to make them a viable source of economic support. In order to succeed as a business venue (a notoriously hard task in the martial arts), a school must establish a "niche", a particular sales pitch which can distinguish it from the competition. By splitting off, starting new associations, styles, or even "styles of a style" (the various "styles" of Aikido which developed after Ueshiba's death come to mind), school heads strive to make themselves a unique and irreplaceable resource for a potential student (or customer) base.

This search for uniqueness may have another, somewhat more troubling motivation, which is one fueled by the need for self-worth. Training at a number of schools and in a number of different arts, I have noticed a pattern among martial artists to place great emphasis not on what is similar between their school or style and others, but what is different, and often with the inherent implication that what they practice is both unique and often better than that to which it is being compared. Practitioners become ingrained in their style of training and the accompanying mindset, and develop a sort of martial myopia which prevents them from exploring ideas beyond their particular doctrine. MMA fighters insist that one can learn to fight only through competition and full contact, denouncing the use of forms and katas as exotic mumbo jumbo, while traditional practitioners insist that the use of rules and regulations teaches competitive fighters an unrealistic and dangerously careless approach toward fighting which would result in fatal errors on the street. Sadly, these two sides--and a number of other well-established camps of belief--coexist only through mutual avoidance and ignorance, each unwilling to meet the other in a constructive or cooperative medium.

I can understand how such an attitude can develop. The martial arts appeal to a very basic part of human (or perhaps animal) nature, notably that associated with violence. For men especially, this is tied on some subconscious level to the ego. Thus, the quality of one's art or doctrine reflects upon their ego, and if another is right, they must be wrong, and that is unacceptable. This feeling may be especially strong among martial artists because of the type of people attracted to the martial arts. From the 300 pound tough guys eager to smash heads in the octagon to the five-foot weaklings hoping to defend against high school bullies, nearly everyone comes to the martial arts seeking a solution to a problem, most often self esteem. The ability to fight, to control or prevail in a violent conflict, is a psychologically powerful one indeed, in some ways perhaps more influential than the creative arts. Ironically, the martial arts are consequently saturated with fragile egos who, rather than seeking to progress the field through cooperation and sharing of knowledge, have been taught that only one doctrine can be right, and that must be theirs. Truth seems to lose all its relativity in martial art; this is what makes even the identity of the arts themselves subject to endless debate, and cripples progress to a grinding halt.

My approach to this issue--I would not call it a solution--is to put a stop to the line-drawing and splitting, and instead smudge, blur, or perhaps even erase a few lines. The warrior traditions which gave rise to many, if not all of today's martial arts and combat sports stressed above all a self-sufficient ego, an attitude of confidence, aplomb, and noble bearing unmarred by selfishness, self consciousness and small-mindedness. This was purely for practical reasons; such weaknesses of the mind and spirit would get a warrior killed on the battlefield. It is a shame, then, to let arguments over details interfere with the development of modern martial arts and jealous separation to keep vital insights from separate camps. As was written in the Japanese samurai classic Hagakure, "It is bad when one thing becomes two". In defining martial arts, we, as martial artists, should not seek to differentiate ourselves as somehow greater or superior to our peers; we are all on similar paths, we are all learning about combat and warriorship in one way or another. The martial arts are a beautiful and noble pursuit as they are, and there should be no need to embellish them further.

So how should one define martial arts? If you ask me, as broadly as possible. As far as I'm concerned, any martial art, discipline, or combat sport, any physical activity derived from martial traditions, or intended to prepare practitioners in some way for a combative situation, is a martial art. Yes, I understand, some of these are not "arts", but the term has already stuck, and just as all tissues are not Kleenex we may have to tolerate popular nomenclature despite its erroneousness; the benefits of sharing a commonality between disparate groups far outweigh the costs. As a largely traditional martial artist, I am at times uncomfortable being associated with tattoo'd juggernauts pounding one another's faces to mush before screaming fans, and I'm sure more than a few competitive fighters are at times equally unnerved to be associated with navel-gazing spiritualists and their ancient warrior codes. If martial artists cannot begin to unify and continue the trajectory of improvement that founders started decades, centuries, even millenia ago, then our beloved arts will fade in the progression of time, split between glorified human cockfights and sword-swinging museum pieces. By building upon the past, I think martial arts can retain their utility and relevance to a changing world and continue a long history of profoundly and positively affecting the human experience.