陈家溝太极散手朱天才四十二发经套路练习: 田畑(TABATA)训练方法方案

Chenjiagou Taiji Sanshou forma in 42 movimenti di Zhu Tiancai: approccio di allenamento TABATA

https://www.academia.edu/123749620/Chenjiagou_Taiji_Sanshou_forma_in_42_movimenti_di_Zhu_Tiancai_approccio_di_allenamento_TABATA

ABSTRACT

In this paper the author proposes to adopt and apply TABATA HIIT protocol in group of movement methodology training sessions focused about Chenjiagou Taiji Sanshou routine of 42 movements as taught by 朱天才Zhu Tiancai and 朱向前Zhu Xiangqian.

After a brief intro with necessary frames-giving info, the author presents one of the TABATA training schemes adopted and integrated within conditioning practice routine.

Key words: HIIT, TABATA, Chen Taijiquan, Wushu, training methodology

INTRODUZIONE

La peculiare sequenza in 42 movimenti del pugilato ortodosso di Chenjiagou secondo il metodo della famiglia di Zhu Tiancai (da qui 42 Fajin) è caratterizzata dalla successione di movimenti esplosivi, contenenti forze esprimibili e finalizzabili in tecniche di percussione e proiezione eseguite a vuoto e concatenate da brevissimi collegamenti da eseguirsi più o meno lentamente. In accordo con Zamblera S., 2019:56 l’esercizio dalla durata di 3 minuti abbondanti è classificabile, come tutto il lavoro inerente alla pratica del Chen, quale “resistenza muscolare di media durata” in cui si evince una componente aerobica importante, ed una fondamentale componente di potenza alattacida1.

Da questo punto di vista prettamente legato ai prodotti dell’allenamento la qualità che la 42 Fajin richiede ed al tempo stesso maggiormente allena è la potenza resistente in cui è possibile individuare:

  • il mantenimento di un alto output di potenza con recuperi incompleti,
  • uno scenario energetico caratterizzato da sistema dominante anaerobico lattacido,
  • substrati energetici principali fosfocreatina e glicogeno,
  • fattori limitanti: potenza e potenza resistente.

Lo sviluppo ed il lavoro fisico che apporti miglioria alla destrezza necessaria sia al contenuto tecnico dei 42 movimenti che nell’esecuzione di tutta la sequenza 42 Fajin quale strumento allenante potrebbe essere coltivato a parte ed allenato in separata sede dall’esecuzione di tutta la forma, seduta di allenamento che si focalizza su altri risultati.
In accordo con Zamblera, 2014 l’allenamento volto all’approfondimento tecnico potrebbe giovare dall’esecuzione e la ripetizione di gruppi di movimenti, poiché la restrizione del contesto e la focalizzazione su porzioni di sequenza rispetto a tutta la forma o gran parte di essa risulterebbe essere la metodologia più appropriata2.  

Per quanto riguarda l’allenamento mirato allo sviluppo della destrezza fisica che sussume il possesso e l’utilizzo delle forze speciali contenute nel Chen, riprendendo quanto sperimentato e proposto dall’autore sull’impiego di sessioni di Sprint Interval Training (SIT) Fartlek e High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT) è stato possibile teorizzare e sperimentare nell’ambito peculiare della 42 Fajin un allenamento basato sul protocollo Tabata3.

PROTOCOLLO TABATA

Il nome TABATA si riferisce al protocollo di allenamento HIIT – High Intensity Interval Training ideato da 泉田畑 Izumi Tabata, preside della Scuola di specializzazione in scienze dello sport e della salute dell’Università di Ritsumeikan, diventato famoso proprio in relazione a questo sistema quale forma di allenamento a intervalli ad alta intensità; ad onor del vero lo stesso dottor Tabata attribuisce all’allenatore olimpico di pattinaggio di velocità 入澤 孝一 (イリサワ コウイチ) Koichi Irisawa, Professore della Faculty of Health Care Department of Physical Therapy della Takasaki University of Health and Welfare, il primato quale pioniere della tecnica.

Ogni sessione TABATA ha un’estensione di 240″ (4 minuti) ed è divisa in 8 ripetute, ciascuna composta da 2 attività: 20” di allenamento alla massima intensità di ripetizione di un gesto e 10” di recupero passivo.

Ogni ripetuta del protocollo Tabata deve avere le caratteristiche tipiche dell’alta intensità (HIT) – oltre la soglia anaerobica e con l’attivazione del metabolismo anaerobico lattacido: più precisamente, nella durata dei 20” l’intensità deve spingersi al 170% circa del massimo consumo di ossigeno (stimato in VO2max), il che sostanzialmente coincide alla massima velocità fisicamente raggiungibile dal soggetto.

Per una bibliografia dedicata cfr. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/?term=tabata

42 FAJIN – ALLENAMENTO TABATA

Isolando ciascuna tecnica esplosiva della 42 Fajin e considerandola come l’esercizio da eseguire per i 20″ di attività è possibile applicare il protocollo all’intera sequenza le cui caratteristiche di soli movimenti esplosivi si prestano ad essere allenata completamente tramite questo approccio.

Isolando poi ciascuna delle “posizioni” della 42 Fajin è possibile avvicinarsi a quanto accennato precedentemente circa l’allenamento delle forme tramite ripetizione focalizzata su piccoli segmenti, i gruppi di movimenti.

Essendo ogni sessione Tabata composta di 8 fasi di attività, e la forma in questione di 42 “stazioni”, è stata integrata l’ultima seduta TABATA con i movimenti tratti dalla stazione 掩手肱拳Yǎn shǒu gōng quán – coprire la mano e sferrare il pugno dalle tecniche della 新架Xīn jià, contenente 2 tecniche di percussione di pugno ripetute 3 volte ciascuna.

名称和分路

Míngchēng hé Fēn Lù

Nomi e suddivisione

42 陈家溝太极散手朱天才老师四十二发经套路 – 田畑TABATA练习

Chén Jiāgōu Tàijí Sǎnshǒu Zhū Tiāncái Lǎoshī Sìshíèr Fā Jīng Tàolù – TABATA Liànxí

Routine di combattimento del Taiji di Chenjiagou in 42 movimenti del Maestro Zhu Tiancai – Allenamento TABATA

Prima sessione

1. 腰拦肘 yāo lán zhǒu – gomitata a bloccare la vita

2. 上挑肘 shǎng tiāo zhǒu – gomitata a sollevare e collegamento

3. 摘星掌 zhāi xīng zhǎng – cogliere le stelle col palmo

4. 穿心肘 chuān xīn zhǒu – gomitata che trapassa il cuore

5. 左背靠 zuǒ bēi kào – spallata sinistra

6. 左挒裂 zuǒ liè liè – spaccare dividendo a sinistra

7. 右背靠 yòu bēi kào – spallata destra

8. 右挒裂 yòu liè liè – spaccare dividendo a destra

Defaticamento

Seconda sessione

9. 上惯拳(左) shǎng guàn quán (zuǒ) – gancio alto (destro)

10. 外摆拳(左) wài bǎi quán (zuǒ) – pugno da interno a esterno (destro)

11. 里合拳 lǐ gě quán – pugno interno

12. 前肩靠 qián jiān kào – spallata in avanti

13. 索喉掌 suǒ hóu zhǎng – palmo che colpisce la gola

14. 背摔 bēi shuāi – proiettare dietro la schiena

15. 迎门掌 zhǎng mén zhǎng – colpo di palmo a “spalancare la porta”

16.左棌 zuǒ cǎi – spaccare a sinistra

Defaticamento

Terza sessione

17. 索摔(左) suǒ shuāi(zuǒ) – proiettare (sinistra)

18. 撩陰拳(右)liāo yīn quán (yòu) – pugno a salire ai genitali (destra). 陰(yīn) l’inguine.

19. 前肩靠(右)qián jiān kào(yòu) – spallata in avanti (destra)

20. 拦腰掌 lán yāo zhǎng – colpo con i palmi a bloccar la vita.

21. 连环肘 liánhuán zhǒu – gomitate a catena. 连环(liánhuán) concatenare.

22. 上掼拳(左)shǎng guàn quán(zuǒ) – gancio alto (sinistra)

23. 外摆拳(左)wài bǎi quán(zuǒ) – pugno dall’interno all’esterno (sinistra)

24. 里合拳(左)lǐ gě quán(zuǒ) – pugno interno (sinistra)

Defaticamento

Quarta sessione

25. 右棌 yòu cǎi – spaccare a destra

26. 索摔(右)suǒ shuāi(yòu) – chiudere e proiettare (destra)

27. 外摆里摔(左) wài bǎi lǐ shuāi (zuǒ) – proiettare dall’esterno all’interno (sinistra)

28. 挂肘摔(右)guà zhǒu shuāi(yòu) – chiudere e proiettare (destra)

29. 右臀靠 yòu tún kào – spallata destra allo sterno. 臀(tún) sterno.

30. 左棚劲 zuǒ péng jìn – colpire in guardia sinistra

31. 右捋摔 yòu lǚ shuāi – tirare e proiettare a destra

32. 外摆里摔(右) wài bǎi lǐ shuāi(yòu) – proiettare dall’esterno all’interno (destra)

defaticamento

Quinta sessione

33. 挂肘摔(左)guà zhǒu shuāi(zuǒ) – gomitata a proiettare (sinistra)

34. 左臀靠 zuǒ túnkào – spallata sinistra allo sterno.

35. 右棚劲 yòu péng jìn – colpire in guardia destra

36. 左捋摔 zuǒ lǚ shuāi – proiettare tirando in basso a sinistra.

37. 双峰貫耳 shuangfēng guàn ěr – due vette perforano le orecchie.

38. 双崩拳 shuang bēng quán – doppio pugno a frusta.

39. 双拳迎门 shuang quán yíng mén – doppio pugno a spalancare la porta.

40.双按掌 shuang àn zhǎng – due palmi premono in basso.

Defaticamento

Sesta sessione (integrata da pugni Xinjia)

41. 迎门靠 yíng mén kào – spallata a spalancare la porta.

42. 双推掌 shuang tuī zhǎng – due palmi spingono in avanti.

43, 45, 47. 弓步衝拳 Gōng bù chōng quán – passo ad arco e conficcare il pugno.

44, 46, 48. 弓步鞭拳 Gōng bù biān quán – passo ad arco e pugno frustato.

Defaticamento

CONCLUSIONI

La pratica del pugilato della famiglia Chen osservata dal punto di vista dei prodotti dell’allenamento consente di sperimentare ed adottare alcune metodologie di condizionamento come sessioni di HIIT e SIT focalizzate sul miglioramento delle forze generali, specifiche e speciali proprie della disciplina praticata.

L’applicazione del protocollo TABATA sull’allenamento della 42 Fajin rientra in questa visione e sperimentazione.

L’integrazione della sesta sessione TABATA con le due tecniche di percussione di pugno della Xinjia consente di ipotizzare un ulteriore lavoro: l’estrazione delle tecniche di percussione dalle due grandi sequenze di movimenti del Chen Xinjia per l’implementazione di ulteriori sessioni HIIT a vuoto e, specialmente, a bersaglio, nell’ottica di inserire nell’allenamento al pugilato ortodosso di Chenjiagou quelle componenti necessarie al recupero della capacità minime, almeno su bersaglio fisso, d’ingaggio e striking proprie dell’arte marziale.

REFERENZE

  1. Zamblera Stefano, 2009 “I prodotti del mio allenamento tipico al Taiji Chen ortodosso di Chenjiagou secondo il metodo della famiglia 朱Zhu” https://www.academia.edu/39749657/I_prodotti_del_mio_allenamento_tipico_al_Taiji_Chen_ortodosso_di_Chenjiagou_secondo_il_metodo_della_famiglia_%E6%9C%B1Zhu
  2. Zamblera Stefano, 2014 “Allenamento e divisione della forma” https://www.academia.edu/27241208/Allenamento_e_divisione_della_forma
  3. Zamblera Stefano, 2023 “Fartlek SIT as general body exercise in my Chenjiagou Wushu training routine Fartlek”  https://www.academia.edu/97617932/Fartlek_SIT_as_general_body_exercise_in_my_Chenjiagou_Wushu_training_routine

朱向前正在欧洲 Zhu Xiangqian in Europe

According to programs shared by local associations and thanks to Zhu Xianqian post on social about his teaching activities in Europe, after 3 years of covid restrictions, is now possible to train with him.

From 03/05 to 09/05 in North Italy

From 11 to 15/05 in Pula, Croatia.

From 17/05/ to 21/05 in Ferrara and Firenze.

Please cfr. hereby images for detail program, costs and contact.

Study notes of Wing Chun Quan history and terminology for a Wushu contextualization

Image from: http://www.kwokwingchun.com/about-wing-chun/ip-mans-wing-chun/ip-man-or-yip-man/

Study notes of Wing Chun Quan history and terminology for a Wushu contextualization

​​

​​https://academia.edu/resource/work/97856131

This is a part of my study draftnotes, less or more ordered, about history and nomenclature of Wushu generally, more in particular focused about orthodox fighting system of Chenjiagou, the latter my specific ambit.

​​Among this studying working-flow, I evidenced and tried to organize in the most coherent possible way some common parts ascribable or linked to Wing Chun Quan, for a contextualization of the style as one of Wushu proper method.

​​Besides historical-social analysis, topic remains nomenclature and terminology which could be considered as one of the objective data available for attempting some crossing-references and etimologies activity.

​​Analogies and parallelisms among Chenjiagou Ortodox fighting system and Wing Chun Boxing share a common consideration as both as traditional Chinese Wushu methods, if by “traditional” is meant what

​​Chineses themselves indicate by the term 传统Chuán tǒng.

​​Study of modern and contemporary historical events seems to document that both Wing Chun Quan and Taiji Quan shared had and still having today common or at least comparable features, characteristics and dynamics into the development and spreading in the West.

​​Notes of analysis of available historical documents follows, with nomenclature study and – where possible – English and Italian annotations.

Fartlek 全速疾跑间歇训练作为我的陈家沟武术训练身体素质练习

Fartlek SIT as general body exercise in my Chenjiagou Wushu training routine

Fartlek 全速疾跑间歇训练作为我的陈家沟武术训练身体素质练习

Fartlek quánsù jí pǎo jiànxiē xùnliàn zuòwéi wǒ de chén jiā gōu wǔshù xùnliàn shēntǐ sùzhì liànxí

Stefano Zamblera – 羞龍Xiulong1

E-mail: afettoxiulong@gmail.com

Published 27/02/2023

Abstract

This paper is written with focus on Fartlek Sprint Interval Training (SIT) running as part of general body exercise condition into my orthodox Wushu boxing method of Chenjiagou (Henan, China) training routine, Chinese 陈家沟武术训练身体素质练习Chénjiāgōu wǔshù xùnliàn shēntǐ sùzhì liànxí.

According to 2019 research[1] data retrieved by systematic screening of daily Chenjiagou Wushu training, was possible to identify peculiar products obtained by Chen daily workouts which emerged as an effective training tool able to conditioning muscular resistance, with discrete aerobic an anaerobic component, with lactacid power training factor, developing resistance power quality and conditioning organism to maintain high power outputs with incomplete recovers.

Dominant energetic system is anaerobic alactacid ATP–CP system (Phosphagen system), Phosphocreatine and Glycogen principal energy substrates, with power and resistant power limiting factors with the equivalence to a mixed training regime.

On the other hand, adopting and flanking alternative mixed training regime able to expand the boundaries in which Chenjiagou Wushu training moves could be considered as a strategy to improve Chen skills.

As repetition of Taolu belongs to aerobic / anaerobic alternate exercise physiology regime, with use of alactacyd (ATP–CP) for supply power phases whilst aerobic system mostly active during Taolu linking slowest movements granting training duration, cleans up the metabolites and allows Phosphocreatine resynthesis, thus an improving and boosting aerobic / anaerobic exercise physiology regime etc., is here suggested as a possible strategy to be adopted to gain dexterity when back to Chen practice.

In the same optic, as Chen plays isometrics with upper (empty isometries) and lower limbs, pitch in a mixed constantly alternating alactacid-lactacid aerobic system, thus a similar motorial activity tool working and improving limits and capacities into alternating alactacid-lactacid aerobic system could be adopted for better performances whence back to Chenjiagou Wushu practice.

Taking account of Physiology of Sport and exercise literature available and Wushu training curricula, research quickly verted to interval training panorama as the ambit to draw from, with Fartlek SIT in the variance of 4x(5x[30” slow, 20” steady, 10” fast/sprint], 120” slow recovery) running core.

Keywords: Wushu, Chenjiagou, training, SIT, HIIT, LSD, running, physiology of physical training


[1] Zamblera S., 2019.

1. Chenjiagou boxing training

According to tradition of 朱Zhu family Chen boxing method, typical training workout is made by 4 main instruments:

1) 缠丝功 Chansigong – silk spinning exercise

2) 套路 Taolu – form, routine of movements

3) 推手 Tuishou – pushing hands

4) 散手 Sanshou – sparring, fighting

1.1 缠丝功Chansigong – silk spinning exercise

The term 缠丝功Chansigong – lit. silk spinning workout, is made by ideographs 缠丝Chansi – to spin, to wind-up a string, rotatory regular movement as typical of handicraft silk spinning manufacture, and ideograph 功Gong – work, training, workout.

This term is used to describe a set of physical exercises made by limbs on spiroid and circular trajectories, with inner to outer and vice versa continuous and repetitive rotations, focused about recurring and most Chen peculiar modality of the whole-body usage rotation and torsion training.

According to 朱天才Zhu Tiancai they are 9: 2 by single arm and 7 by both arms[1].

As well specified by Tiancai’s son too, 朱向前Zhu Xiangqian, Chansigong training has to be meant a productive workout able to develop peculiar dexterity of Chen boxing method, and this training tool is focused about the same dexterity worked by and within 老架一路Laojia Yilu – old frame 1st routine[2].

According to Tiancai and Xiangqian, Chansigong is meant to be considered 功夫拳Gongfuquan, an effective tool made for the practical and successful development of boxing abilities like 柔劲Rou Jin – soft force, and 缠丝劲Chansi Jin – spinning spiral force, soft rotation and torsion.

1.2 套路Taolu – routine of movements

By the term 套路Taolu is meant a sequel of predetermined movement, to be played alone, whose equivalent may be considered the 型 (o形) Kata of Japanese martial arts.

Taolu are often named “forms” or “routines”.

Chenjiagou orthodox boxing system contemplates bare-hand and weapon Taolu.

1.2.1 Bare-hand Taolu

陈氏太极拳老架一路 Chen Shi Taijiquan Laojia Yilu

Chen family Taiji boxing old frame first routine

As introduced upper, in this study Laojia Yilu is substituted by Chansigong workout.

陈氏太极拳老架二路炮捶 Chen Shi Taijiquan Laojia Erlu Paochui

Chen family Taiji boxing old frame second routine “Cannon shots” 

陈氏太极拳新架一路 Chen Shi Taijiquan Xinjia Yilu

Chen family Taiji boxing new frame first routine

陈氏太极拳新架二路炮捶 Chen Shi Taijiquan Xinjia Erlu Paochui

Chen family Taiji boxing new frame second routine “Cannon shots” 

陈氏太极拳42发劲 Chen Shi Taijiquan 42 Fajin

Chen family Taiji boxing 42 releases of energy

1.2.2 Weapon Taolu

陈氏太极单刀 Chen Shi Taiji Dan Dao

Chen family Taiji boxing single  broadsword

陈氏太极双刀 Chen Shi Taiji Shuang Dao

Chen family Taiji boxing double broadsword

陈氏太极剑 Chen Shi Taiji Jian

Chen family Taiji sword

陈氏太极枪 (梨花枪夹白猿棍)Chen Shi Taiji Qiang (Lihua Qiang Jia Bai Yuan Gùn)

Chen family Taiji Spear (Pear flower spear, white monkey staff)

陈氏太极春秋大刀 Chen Shi Taiji Chun Qiu Dadao

Chen family Taiji “Spring and Autumn” big saber

1.3 推手Tuishou – pushing hands.

Exercise played in couple focused about main 掤 Peng, 捋Lu, 按 An, 擠 Ji, 採 Cai, 挒 Lie, 肘 Zhou, 靠 Kao forces, methods and applications.

1.4 散手 Sanshou – sparring, fighting

Free fighting and/or particular rules bound fighting.  Various struggling and fighting confrontation.


[1] Zhu,  1994

[2] Zhu, 2005

2 Chenjiagou wushu: my training products

After and according to author 2019 researches[1] deepen into analysis of effective scores and products of daily Wushu, according to Dr. Marturano interpretation of data retrieved, Chen boxing training emerged as a workout core able to produce muscular resistance, featured by a discrete component both aerobic an anaerobic, with lactacid power training factor.

By Chen’s pertinent conditioning methods, according to data recorded, its training results as a motorial activity tool able to develop resistance power quality and conditioning organism to maintain high power outputs with incomplete recovers.

Conditioning resulted is equivalent to a mixed training regime: Chen practice has the effects of physical preparation made by mixed and various method exercises, concentric, isometric and eccentric.

Dominant energetic system is anaerobic alactacid ATP–CP system (Phosphagen system), Phosphocreatine and Glycogen principal energy substrates, with power and resistant power limiting factors.

Repetition of Taolu, according to Marturano’s interpretation, belongs to aerobic / anaerobic alternate exercise physiology regime, as alactacyd (ATP–CP) is used for supply power phases whilst aerobic system mostly active during Taolu linking slowest movements, grants training duration, cleans up the metabolites and allows Phosphocreatine resynthesis; isometrics practiced by upper (empty isometries) and lower limbs, pitch in a mixed constantly alternating alactacid-lactacid aerobic system; similar motorial activity tool could be identifies into elevation-gain walking / running.


[1] Zamblera S., 2019

3. Fartlek SIT – Speed Interval Training

Fartlek is a Swedish word that means “speed play” and designates a popular training method widely used by runners[1] developed in the late 1930s by Swedish Olympian Gösta Holmér, and it consists in a simultaneous speed and endurance workout, specifically an endurance training session intermixed with short moments when the race speed is higher than that used in a competition[2].

Fartlek training, as well as its general association with running, can in principle be incorporated into almost any kind of exercise by alternating periods of faster and slower activities intermixed; when walking/cycling/running fartlek form includes long slow distance (LSD) training, often over natural terrain outdoors, including over both “level and hilly terrain”, featured by variable intensities and continuous nature of the exercise to impact both the aerobic and anaerobic parts of physiology[3].  

Fartlek training was introduced in the United States, in the 1940s. By the 1960’s, in the hands of Doris Brown Heritage fartlek workouts had become assigned to 20-minute sessions beginning and ending with mile runs, between which were sandwiched an unstructured intermix of “40 to 200-yard sprints and five to seven minute segment perceived exertions” [4].  

3.1 Types of Fartlek

Fartlek methods developed over time in three directions: the usual free fartlek, the semi-coded (semi-programmed) exercise and the perfectly planned running [5].

Free variant, the best known and most used, with running pace and duration not predetermined: exercise is performed in full freedom, as the athlete feels: uphill, downhill, on flat ground, over short and fast distances or over long but slower distances. The runner can use the relief or can integrate running exercises (with knees up, with heels to the buttocks), jumps, steps, everything being left to their will. The focus is less on the amount of effort and more on its intensity.

The playful nature of this variant ensures uniqueness to the preparation of leisure runners. Free fartlek perfectly fits the skilled athletes who want to make the transition to interval training, or who resume their training after an injury or a poor shape period. It has the advantage of a rapid progress in the knowledge of one’s physical potential, but also the disadvantage that it does not stimulate specific work towards reaching the established performance goal.

Semi-programmed variant foresees that amount and toughness of physical exercise to be largely predetermined. 

Even if the runner is not limited to a certain speed, the proposed running time implicitly gives indications on intensity and sets the objective of the training session. However, the perception of exercise intensity is a sense that the athlete must improve.

This variant not only allows, but even requires working at an appropriate intensity to reach the proposed objective. 

It has the disadvantage of claiming a certain level of experience, because the athlete often tends to use a wrong pace (generally, too fast), which leads to difficulties in performing the next sessions.

Perfectly planned fartlek is similar to track training, with everything dosed in advance: exercise timeframe, recovery time, intensity that has to be reached and maintained, etc…

The feature of this type of training is the perfectly planned route, supported by devices that display real-time heart rate (running intensity) and other parameters prefixed for specific targets, with the lowest possible margin of error relative to those scores. 

Every Fartlek session requires a common minimum organization starting with appropriate warming-up and ending cool-down phases, moreover athletes should get involved in a previous period of adaptation and general physical preparation[6].

3.2 Fartlek sessions

Typical Fartlek session may could be structured by a selection of a landmark (for instance, a tree or a public lighting pole) to which run with the proposed speed (for example, 75% of maximum speed), then the intensity (speed) is reduced to that used in the recovery jogging ‘till next landmark.

According to Tifrea 2022, a timeframe can be set for the training session, for example 45 minutes, assuring that by this durance the anaerobic, aerobic and mixed systems will be engaged. 

For this, running can be performed on uneven ground (field, park, forest, hill, sawdust track, road) and/or in different conditions (snow, soft ground) and will consist of 50 m uphill sprinting, sustained repetitions over the distance of 1,000 m, downhill running with large strides, all of them interspersed with jogging or even walking[7].

According to Gilles Dorval, a French cross-country coach[8], replacing landmarks with time sequences was necessary to create a productive session which could be structured as following:

20’ warm-up running at 70-75% of maximum HR;

3 accelerations of 30” each at 95-100% of maximum aerobic speed, with 1’ of slow jogging between them;

3 accelerations of 1’ each at 95% of maximum aerobic speed, fragmented by 1’30” of slow jogging (or more, if necessary);

3 accelerations of 2’ each at 90-95% of maximum aerobic speed, with 2’ of slow jogging (or more, if necessary) between them;

3 accelerations of 1’ each at 95% of maximum aerobic speed, fragmented by 1’30” of slow jogging (or more, if necessary);

3 accelerations of 30” each at 95-100% of maximum aerobic speed, with 1’ of slow jogging between them;

15’ of slow jogging at 75% of maximum HR

According to Steve Moneghetti[9],  marathon runner, multiple medallist at major competitions, a good Fartlek workout consists of:

2×90 seconds at a slightly faster pace, with 90 seconds of mild running between series;

4×60 seconds, with 60 seconds of mild running between series;

4 x30 seconds, with 30 seconds of mild running between series;

4×15 seconds, with 15 seconds of mild running between series.

Following Jack Daniels[10], athlete should not use distance or time, but strides: it involves a pyramid that starts with 10 fast strides, 10 slow strides, continuing with 20 fast strides, 20 slow strides, 30-30… until 100 fast strides, 100 slow strides, and then decreasing by 10 until the starting series is reached.

According to Ivan and colleagues[11] and Yadav 2013 Fartlek could be used for the development of maximum aerobic speed by a 10×45” of high-speed repetitions alternating with 1’15” of rest, slow jogging.

According to Dorval[12] development of maximum aerobic speed could be grant by Fartlek workout structured as:

30 seconds fast / 30 seconds slow

1 minute fast / 1 minute slow

1 minute and 30 seconds fast / 1 minute slow

2 minutes fast / 1 minute slow

2 minutes fast / 1 minute slow

1 minute and 30 seconds fast / 1 minute slow

1 minute fast / 1 minute slow

30 seconds fast / 30 seconds slow

3.3 Fartlek products

Fartlek IST approach, as peculiar LSD kind workout, is an aerobic endurance training, base training and Zone 2 training, with physiological adaptations including improved cardiovascular function, improved thermoregulatory function, improved mitochondrial energy production, increased oxidative capacity of skeletal muscle, and increased utilization of fat for fuel[13].

Mc.Ardle and colleagues demonstrated that repetition and alternation of variable intensities, from slow to steady to fast pace, moderate-high aerobic intensity (where by this is implied a level of activity at 60-80% VO2max) and interval training structure with spacing of more intense exercise and rest intervals, Fartlek IST can simply be described as alternating periods of faster and slower exercise (i.e., running), intermixed[14]: from their perspective of exercise physiology, when properly applied a fartlek training approach overloads one or all of the energy systems, and so provides ideal general conditioning and off-season training strategies [adding] freedom and variety to workouts.

According to Gunnarson and Bangsbo, 2012 effect of an alteration from regular endurance to interval 30” slow 20” steady 10” fast pace training on the health profile, muscular adaptations, maximum oxygen uptake (Vo(2max)), and performance of runners shows that interval training with short 10-s near-maximal bouts can improve performance and Vo(2max) despite a ∼50% reduction in training volume. 

In addition, the 30-20-10 training regime lowers resting systolic blood pressure and blood cholesterol, suggesting a beneficial effect on the health profile of already trained individuals[15].

Buchheit and colleagues found in Fartlek an effective SIT program to improve a general player’s aerobic capacity as it induces skeletal muscle metabolism, increases capillaries and mitochondrial proliferation, enhances oxidase activity and improves peripheral vascular function and peripheral fitness of skeletal muscle[16]

Koral et.Al studies demonstrated that when training intensity exceeded 90%VO2max, SIT could simultaneously improve oxygen uptake and transport ability of the cardiopulmonary system and skeletal muscle. Koral developed Ermanno’s intuition about intermittent exercises as Fartlek SIT is to be able to activate the energy supply of the aerobic system in advance and reduce the proportion of the energy supply of the anaerobic system, thus delaying the generation of fatigue. These changes in the body were physiological feedback for SIT: while training is improving the player’s ability to maintain high-intensity exercise for a long time in competition and training, their ability to recover could be improved, consequently achieving the goal of improving aerobic capacity [17]. According to Connolly 2012 and Haochong 2021, after 8 weeks of SIT, players’ VO2max, VT-VO2 and VT/VO2max increased significantly, implying that the proportion of exercise intensity lower than the anaerobic threshold for the body was increased under the same testing protocol[18]

Phillips et Al., 2011 and Gist et. Al., 2014 studies demonstrated that the time players take to enter the anaerobic glycolytic process would be postponed, thus reducing the consumption of glycogen[19].

Connoly deduction could be used as a sum-up, resuming that Fartlek SIT adoption into athlete workouts inducted skeletal muscle metabolism, increased capillary proliferation, mitochondrial proliferation, enhancing activity and oxidation of glycolytic oxidase and improving peripheral vascular function and skeletal muscle peripheral adaptability, with a global improvement of efficience reflected into a general whole ability of subject-s body movements, and into the peculiar player dexterity of sport-specialized kind of movement[20].

From the athlete on-court performance improving point of view Meeusen and Welsh stated that

Fartlek SIT aerobic recovery ability improvement has a direct impact on players’ on-court performance, as high-intensity and high-load activity would produce physiological fatigue and large amount of lactate accumulation in the skeletal muscle, thus changes in the internal responses of the body may cause players’ physical dysfunction and decline in athletic performance[21]

Therefore, according to Robergs and colleagues Al., 2018, rapid recovery ability, from physiological and biochemical perspectives the changes in skeletal muscle’s oxygen recovery ability, is one of the key prerequisites for decent physical and technical performance[22]

As evinced by Menzies et Al., 2010 blood lactate is one of the most commonly used biochemical indicators to detect the body fatigue recovery status, and the accumulation of lactate may indirectly lead to reduced performance, because the conversion of lactic acid to lactate releases H+ that leads to a metabolic acidosis with subsequent inhibition of glycolytic rate-limiting enzymes, lipolysis and contractility of the skeletal muscles[23]

Wang and colleagues 2019 research evinced that SIT performed at a higher level of intensity could positively influence the clearance of lactate after exercise, increasing intra-cellular alkali reserve and slowing the pH reduction in muscles, and delaying the onset of fatigue[24]

Fukuoka studies found in Wang’s deduction that consequently athlete’ ability to recover from intermittent activities was enhanced and they would be better prepared for the next point[25],  according and developing what’s asserted by Anderson et Al. 2007, about possessing rapid aerobic recovery as a key factor determining elite player’s aerobic endurance and technical-tactical performance in the next point[26]


[1] Ivan C. et Al., 2018

[2] Lovesey, 1968; McArdle et Al., 2009

[3] Scaff, 2011

[4] Schatzle, 2022; Foreman, 2005

[5] Gaillard, 2016

[6] Newsholme, 1998

[7] Tifrea, 2022

[8] Dorval, 2016

[9] Ivan C., 2018

[10] Daniels, J. (2013). Daniels’ running formula. Human Kinetics.

[11] Yadav & Yadav, 2013; Ivan et.Al., 2018

[12] Dorval G., 2015

[13] Dudley et.Al., 1982

[14] Mc Ardle et.Al., 2009

[15] Gunnarson and Bangsbo, 2012

[16] Buchheit et.Al., 2012

[17] Koral et.Al., 2019

[18] Connoly 2012; Haochong 2021.

[19] Philips et.Al., 2011; Gist et.Al., 2014

[20] Connoly, 2012

[21] Meeusen et.Al, 2006; Welsh et.Al., 2002

[22] Roberg et.Al., 2018

[23] Menzies et.Al., 2010

[24] Wang et.Al., 2019

[25] Fukuoka et.Al., 2017

[26] Andersen et.Al., 2007

4 Fartlek SIT and sports

According to physiology of physical training literature Fartlek approach is appliable to

rowing [1], skiing [2], swimming [3], and cycling[4].

According to Haochong et Al., 2021 Fartlek 30-20-10 running interval training adopted as intervention on elite badminghton players as a training method, substantially improved maximum aerobic capacity and aerobic recovery ability by improving the oxygen uptake and delivery, thus enhancing their rapid repeated sprinting ability[5].

Another example of Fartlek SIT applied to non-running sport as flanking training tool is seen in Grossman competitive swimming studies with interesting features regarding respiration and apnea, as according to Grossman approach competitive swimming requires the performance of high-intensity work while performing regular periods of apnea. He presents as example the swimming “flip-turn” and push-off technique, facilitating a change in direction at the end of the pool, as a maneuver requiring high-power output (PO) of the lower extremities (kicking) combined with apnea extended for ∼5 s.[6].


[1]  Ní Chéilleachair et.Al., 2017

[2] Costill, 1991

[3] Grossman et.Al., 2021

[4] Burke – Pavalka, 2000.

[5] Haochong et.Al., 2021

[6] Grossman et.Al., 2021

5 Fartlek SIT and my Chenjiagou Wushu training

Omitting all technical specification about whatever Wushu method is practiced, if a gaze is given to Wushu drills workouts exercising, High Intensity Interval Training routines are omnipresent into any session of Wushu basics: for instance whatever Titui[1] training lines and/or Zuhe Dongzuo repetition played, at a certain intensity of activity – which is required – anything could be seen as peculiar form of High Intensity Interval Training with variable timing in seconds of High Power Output followed by more or less short and incomplete recovery slowdown phase. 

About Sprint Interval Training routines as mandatory part of Wushu training curriculum, according to Yang Hui BUPE teacher 2004 Florence Wushu Institute Wushu junior compete team training program[2], she prescribed once for week (the Friday, in a 5 days Wushu and segmented body specified strengthening focused training week + weekend duilian mild focused workouts) a session of 身体素质练习 shēntǐ sùzhì liànxí – exercises for general body that she distinguished into 长跑 chángpǎo – lit. long running, cross 5.000 m, 2.000 m., and 短跑 duǎnpǎo – lit. short running, specifying as forward pass cross running, burst and sprints in progression, fast running over short decrementing distances as 500 m., 400 m., 100 m., 50 m.

A more detailed general fitness program for Wushu athlete, with differentiated workouts according to age ranges, was then suggested[3].

As Haochong and colleagues identify in the Fartlek SIT training modality and cadence the closer workouts to maximum physiological load intensity and time structure best suited to pertinent sport player necessity, in this paper is suggested to look for a SIT formula that best suites to Chenjiagou boxing physiological intensity and timing[4].

Chenjiagou training workouts products are evident thanks to 2019 research and resumed upper: in general terms a barehand Taolu session Xinjia Yilu plus Xinjia Erlu execution lasts about 30 – 35 minutes, and is featured by constant slow and middle power effort clustered with very frequent burst outputs.

Thus, SIT to be adopted has to last 30 – 35 minutes with an intro-warm-up and a tail-cool-down more or less equivalent phase, and should be featured by:

very fast burst segments > Tmin

slow longer phases > Tmax

steady pace phases linking between faster and slower segments, with a durance shorter then slow and longer then fast parts > Tmiddle = Tmax – Tmin

This fundamental unit:

(Tmax slow) + (Tmiddle steady) + (Tmin fast) should be repeated over a productive temporal unit which grant aerobic and anaerobic solicitation; these repetitions would create a macro-unit, with a partial incomplete session focused about recovery, to be in turn repeated all necessary time to cover the Xinjia Yilu + Xinjia Erlu endurance required, about 30, 35 minutes.

Resuming:

Warm-up + X * (MACRO UNIT [Y* {MICROUNIT}] + incomplete recovery]) + Cool-down,

where {MICROUNIT == Tmin + Tmiddle + Tmax }

Among Fartlek SIT vast panorama available the Gunnarsson – Bangsbo, MacKenzie[5] Fartlek SIT methodology of 10-20-30 approach seems the most suited to Chenjiagou Wushu training, with a structured running session made of

5 minutes warming up running

4 x (5 x [30” slow, 20” steady, 10” fast/sprint], 120” slow recovery running)

5 minutes steady running

5 minutes to more free time cool down phase.


[1] 踢腿Titui – lit. rising legs, kicking practice exercises; 组合动作Zǔhé dòngzuò – lit. playing a combination of actions, in Wushu indicating a group of movements, often a segment of 2 or 3 movements taken from the whole Taolu, trained in repetition as a standalone for technical improvement and skill development. Cfr.: Duan and Zheng, 2007; Zamblera 2015.

[2] Cfr. Yang Hui, 2004: mansucript I.

[3] Cfr. Unknown, 2004 : manuscript II.

[4] Haochong et.Al., 2021

[5] Gunnarson and Bangsbo, 2012; MacKenzie, 2015.

Acknowledgements

I wish to thanks Dr. Niccolo Marturano for his help during 2019 researches and data interpretation, and Wushu Institute of Florence for years of training and available study material.

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中国武术和岩画 Wushu ed arte rupestre cinese

中国武术和岩画 Wushu ed arte rupestre cinese.
Appunti di studio delle evidenze artistico-rupestri cinesi relazionabili alla storia ed alle iconografie del Wushu.

Su academia.edu:
https://www.academia.edu/39356294/Wushu_ed_arte_rupestre_cinese

Questa raccolta di appunti è inerente allo studio delle evidenze rupestri dei siti della Cina che possono essere messe in relazione con la storia antica del 武术Wushu – arti marziali, in particolare con alcune iconografie e pratiche associabili alle arti marziali cinesi, alla storia ed alla cultura del Wushu.
Dopo alcuni appunti focalizzati sullo studio delle nozioni, della terminologia e degli aspetti fondamentali del Wushu, il focus della ricerca verte sull’analisi dei principali aspetti e della bibliografia dedicata alla sconfinata materia di ricerca quale l’arte rupestre cinese, dove per “cinese” s’íntende un vasto sistema ecologico-culturale caratterizzato da open e globular clusters  di nicchie culturali ed ambientali diffuso nei territori coincidenti e limitrofi alle regioni ed alle provincie della Cina attuale, che sono anche il criterio di organizzazione del materiale di studio presentato come excursus dei maggiori siti di arte rupestre soffermandosi sulle raffigurazioni che posso essere ritenute pertinenti all’ambito dell’analisi storica del Wushu.
A queste evidenze è talvolta associata un’ulteriore documentazione ed in alcuni casi l’approfondimento di peculiari aspetti di manufatti e cultura materiale proveniente dagli scavi archeologici.
Altra peculiarità ivi annottata e presentata è l’analisi nelle sue pertinenze al Wushu della tradizione manoscritta 东巴Dongba propria della minoranza etnica 纳西Naxi (regione di 丽江Lijiang, provincia dello 云南Yunnan) interpretata come ramo espressivo di un filone della pittografia direttamente relazionabile con l’arte rupestre.
Nelle conclusioni si tenta di sketchare un quadro riassuntivo di quanto sembra possibile evincere dalle fonti analizzate.

Martial Arts and Politics: Silat in Defense of Religion and the Malay Nation

Silat at a Malay Wedding. Source: Wikipedia.

 

Lawrence N. Ross. 2017. “Demi Agama, Bangsa dan Negara: Silat Martial Arts and the ‘Third Line’ in Defense of Religion, Race and the Malaysian State.” In Sophie Lemiere (eds.) Illusions of Democracy: Malaysian Politics and People. Vol. II. Strategic Information and Research Development Centre: Malaysia.

 

 

Martial Arts and Modern Politics

Over the last few months I have written a number of posts discussing the interplay between martial arts and politics in the early 20th century.  It is not hard to look at the Japanese promotion of Judo in colonial Taiwan, or the Chinese state’s promotion of first Guoshu and then Wushu, and perceive an interplay between martial practice and political strategy.  The first half of the 20th century presents students with a wide assortment of case studies, each alerting us to the role of ethno-nationalism, ideological struggle, imperialism and the nation building process in the shaping of the East Asian martial arts.

Yet is all of this only an artifact of the past?  In the absence of imperial, post-colonial and national struggle, what role can the martial arts play in the modern political landscape? Can martial practices or organizations still be seen as relevant actors in the current era?

Being a political scientist by training, I spend a lot of time thinking about questions like this. Clearly, I must believe that the martial arts are relevant to both international and domestic politics or I probably wouldn’t be as interested in studying them. My current book project, looking at the interplay between China’s traditional fighting arts and its global public diplomacy strategy, is explicitly premised on the ongoing relevance of these images and practices within the transnational sphere.  But what are we currently seeing in the more mundane realms of daily domestic political struggle?

While conducting a review of news reports in December of 2018, I noticed a spike in discussions of Malaysian Silat.  Sadly, not all of these stories were positive.  The appearance of the Silat at the Asian Games (hosted in Jakarta) had been marred with unsportsmanlike conduct by both fighters and crowd.  Given the historic rivalry between Indonesia and Malaysia, more than one commentator was left to wonder whether the sport’s inclusion had actually been a good thing. Later (in November), young Silat practitioners were implicated in a violent attack on a Hindu Temple in Selangor.  The incident was embarrassing and led to the Pertubuhan Silat Seni Gayong Malaysia (PSSGM) secretary-general Mariam Bujang being forced to publicly argue that the perpetrators were not actually members of that association but its defunct predecessor. One way or another, the story didn’t contribute to a positive perception of martial artist in the area.

The biggest story surfaced in December.  Thousands of Silat practitioners, all wearing their official training uniforms and carrying association banners, gathered at the Federal Territories Mosque in Kuala Lumpur.  Chanting “Allah is Great” they marched in protest of the government’s plan to ratify the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD), a UN memorandum dating from the 1960s.  This document became a lightning rod within a political landscape shaped by ethnic and religious identity.  In some corners it was seen as threatening the place of Islam in the country, even though a number of other Muslim countries had ratified it. Other critics were concerned that the majority ethnic Malay population would lose certain affirmative action preferences under the new document, even though most legal scholars agreed that such programs and policy would be unaffected. Nevertheless, leaders of various Silat associations were quick to call their members out into the streets, determined to protect both Islam and the nation for the perceived global threat. These protests generated a number of stories (and some nice video footage), which quickly spread around the world.

Malaysia is no stranger to what some of my colleagues call “contentious politics.”  Nor, in truth, is Silat.  The leaders of some organizations have been very vocal in expressing their opposition to certain policies.  In general these martial arts group have played a quieter supporting role. Yet even when they have been positioned off stage and out of the limelight, their presence has still been felt. What was unusual was to see a number of high-profile stories in quick succession, each of which centered the Silat community within these debates.  So how can we better understand the role of Silat within Malaysia’s ongoing pattern of contentious (and sometimes violent) debate?

 

A more athletic and competitive vision of Silat. Source: Wikimedia.

 

 

A History of Struggle

Lawrence N. Ross, a faculty member of the University of Malaya’s Department of Socio-culture and Malaya Arts, has recently authored a short article seeking to answer this very question.  It draws on his extensive background as a scholar of the region, as well as the familiarity with the Silat community which he has gained as a practitioner.  Ross’ essay has the unenviable task of familiarizing non-specialist readers with both the relevant aspects of Malaysian political history as well as the development of its martial arts traditions in too few pages.  In reading it, I was struck by how rarely students of Martial Arts Studies are ever afforded the privilege of “hitting the ground running” when writing an essay in the same way that a political or economic historian might be. The standing assumption is always (and generally with good reason), that the average reader will be coming to these topics for the very first time. Hopefully that will change as our field grows.

Still, Ross does a very good job of introducing and contextualizing lots of information in such a way that it will be understandable to those who aren’t all that familiar with the practices that he is about to discuss.  This is the sort of paper that one could easily include on an undergraduate syllabus even if the course in question was not directly focused on Malaysia.  I suspect that many political science students would find the discussion to be both interesting and relevant.

Beyond a simple review of Silat as a martial art, Ross immediately underlines the degree to which the practice has emerged as a critical touchstone of debates over the nature of Malay ethnic identity, and from there to Malaysia’s national character and destiny.  This discussion is grounded in a series of short historical cases in which major stages in the development of Silat’s institutional organization are reviewed and correlated to corresponding events in the life of the country.

Obviously, the May 13th Incident (when hundreds of mostly Chinese victims were killed by Malay rioters after the opposition parties made gains in the 1969 national election) plays an important role in this narrative. As Ross points out, the leaders of various martial groups have not been shy about invoking the memory of widespread anti-Chinese violence and killings in this period as they have laid out their social and political demands in more recent years. Yet the history and the nature of the interrelationship between the state, Malay society and Silat run much deeper, and are much more complex, than this single incident.

Ross places the genesis of the modern connection between Silat and the state in the immediate post-WWII era.  During the power vacuum that existed between the defeat of the Japanese and the re-establishment of British rule, a Silat militia called the “The Army of the Cause of God,” arose in the southern state of Johor and basically went to war with both the Chinese Malayan Anti-Japanese Party and the Malayan Communist Party.  The widespread slaughter of this period, in Ross’ view, laid the foundations for later outbreaks of anti-Chinese violence.

Another interesting case study emerges later in the 1970s with the rise of a group called Nasrul Haq.  It too functioned as an ersatz Silat militia this time under the personal command of a young, highly charismatic government figure named Abdul Samad bin Idris.  The group targeted impoverished or working-class youth for recruitment and was built upon a synthesis of religious fundamentalism and ethno-nationalist revivalism.  However, when the political ambitions of its patrons became too threatening, the rest of the government unleashed a series of investigations and repressions that would help to further shape Silat’s relationship with the state.

Ross reviews a number of other events, including the creation of the major mainstream Silat organizations that currently dominate the art’s practice, and the rise of “oppositional Silat” in the 1980s.  He also discusses the PAS’ sponsorship of generally very benign classes and community associations after their 2008 electoral victory in an effort to build trust and social capital.  He noted that while these classes might be proceeded by lengthy religious sermons, in actual practice they weren’t all that different from the sorts of martial arts classes that you might find offered in community centers anywhere else in the world.

Undoubtedly my own background within International Relations (and interest in public diplomacy) shapes many of the discussions of martial arts and politics which readers will find here on Kung Fu Tea.  By in large I have written about outward facing discussions where nations harness some aspect of their traditional domestic culture to affect the sorts of perceptions and political calculations that happen on the global stage.  Unsurprisingly, the sorts of states that can engage in this sort of behavior (whether it is the rivalry between American and German boxers in the 1930s, Japanese Judo players in the 1920’s, or efforts to place Wushu in the Olympics today) tend to be the Great Powers within the global system.

Ross’ article shifts this discussion in important ways.  His focus remains resolutely on the interaction between martial practice and the domestic political landscape.  Indeed, as we review the various time periods laid out in this article, we see a practical menu of all the ways that the martial arts might become relevant to shifting domestic debates.  Everything from their didactic media presence, to role in shaping community identity through physical organization is touched on.

If we were to draw just a single conclusion from this much more complex discussion, it might be that the Malaysian martial arts have been critical to the political process not because everyone practices them (indeed, most people don’t).  Rather, their strength derives from their ability to build social cohesion within limited, almost factional, communities that a wide variety of political and social elites find quite useful.  Indeed, they find this trait so valuable that they have been willing to support and subsidize several types of martial practice.  Many Silat groups have responded in kind by supporting ruling government parties and constructing large communities dedicated to the perpetuating a certain vision of Malaysian identity.  In effect this freezes in place the social groups who are winners and losers from government policy choices.

Ross is careful to note in multiple places that most Silat students are in no way connected to anything like political thuggery.  They just focus on their personal studies and events in their local communities.  Yet he also notes that there is a latent power within this community, as witnessed by recent demonstrations that have turned huge numbers of Silat students out onto the streets, that suggest that the art still functions a potential militia, one dedicated to certain political parties, but also to a specific understanding of Malay identity.

 

Traditional weapons have been honored as an element of the nation’s cultural heritage.

 

Conclusion

Paul Bowman, in one of our journal editorials, asks whether the martial arts, and by extension Martial Arts Studies, really matters. In many ways this was basically a rhetorical question.  Having written several books and articles, organized conferences, received grants, and started journal all dedicated to the martial arts, I think we can safely assume that he believes that they matter.  The real question, the one that we should engage with, is “how do they matter,” and “how can I convince other scholars/publishers/editors that they matter.”

Ross’ article struck a cord with me as it speaks succinctly to these points.  The degree to which the Silat community has become publicly visible (even within the global press) in Malaysia’s contentious politics over the last few months is somewhat exceptional.  The author does a good job of exposing the various ways in which martial arts groups have been present in a variety of areas, even when their effect is not necessarily evident to those outside the country.  Clearly the martial arts matter if we want to understand identity or social conflict in a variety of South East Asian countries.

The Malaysian case nicely illustrates that these sorts of conversations are not just a relic of the first half of the 20thcentury. The martial arts continue to be directly implicated in not just global but also domestic political discussions around the globe.  When we ignore these groups, we miss a mechanism by which preferences are created, aggregated and articulated in a variety of systems.

As always, I have certain criticisms of this article. Silat is not the only martial art practiced in Malaysia.  The Chinese community has built an especially strong network of martial arts schools and associations of its own.  Nor has it forgotten the events of 1969.  It would have been very interesting to take a step back and look at the larger landscape, drawing parallels and contrasts with the ways that different martial arts groups have been drawn into (or shunned) political discussions.

Some unresolved tensions also remain in within Ross’ basic argument about the nature of the Silat community.  Attentive readers may have even picked some of them up in my own brief summary.  The overarching thesis of his argument is that the Silat community is imagined as (and at times is explicitly called upon to function as) an immense informal militia that stands ready to defend specific government actors, ideas about Islam and (most importantly) Malay ethnic identity.  Indeed, Ross provides extensive quotes by various leaders of national martial arts organizations suggesting that they are very much aware of, and invested in, these responsibilities.

At the same time, Ross cautions us that most Silat students are not political agents and are just concerned with taking a class at a local community center or studying with a local village master.   Undoubtedly this is true.  And yet something seems to be missing from the story.  Specifically, how is it that some individuals, but not others, get pulled in an activist direction?  What is the actual social mechanism that draws in some schools in but insulates other sorts of communities?  What are the actual boundaries of this vast national militia?  And how do they shift as the politics of the day become more heated and contentious?  That last question would seem to be especially important at the current moment.

Of course, none of these questions could be addressed without vastly expanding the length and complexity of the chapter that we are reviewing.  In an edited volume these sorts of questions are almost never under the author’s control, so it is probably not fair to hold Ross responsible for them.  As I said before, he does a remarkable job of getting a non-specialist up to speed, and that is probably enough. But I would certainly like to hear more on all of these topics.  Let’s hope that Ross has a book length manuscript in the works!

 

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If you enjoyed this review you might also want to read: Through a Lens Darkly (9): Swords, Knives and other Traditional Weapons Encountered by the Shanghai Police Department, 1925.

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“Old Sports” in New China – Reporting the 1953 National Exhibition and Tournament

 

A poster from 1957 showing various Chinese national sports.

 

 

The Source

As part of my ongoing research on the role of the traditional martial arts within the creation of China’s public diplomacy strategy, I am reviewing several propaganda sources produced in the 1950s and 1960s.  By in large these printed outlets have little to say on the subject, preferring to focus their rhetorical energies on the rapid pace of China’s industrial growth, or its success in the building of massive dams and hydro-electric power plants. This is very much the sort of material one would expect to find in a Communist country’s propaganda from early in the Cold War.  But occasionally some mention of the martial arts does manage to fight its way through this tide of socialist progress, and it is worth considering how China’s new Communist government discussed these practices when presenting them to the world.  What follows is one of the most interesting pieces to be published in the country’s main English language outlets during the 1950s.

Yet before delving into this, a few basic matters need to be discussed.  The first of these is conceptual in nature.  When discussing much of the press coverage of the Republic era martial arts on this blog I have tended to use the term “public diplomacy.”  Yet I just introduced this article (and the publication that it came from) as “propaganda.”  Given that both of these are official (or quasi-official) state strategies to circulate information to consumers within the international system, what makes them different?  How do we know when a given newspaper account or documentary film falls into one category rather than the other?

As with so many discussions of definitions, some caution is required. In modern parlance the term “propaganda” tends to carry a highly negative connotation.  It is often tied to information warfare and even more physical types of competition and violence.  Public diplomacy, on the other hand, is generally seen as a positive force in the world that reduces the likelihood of misunderstanding and needless conflict.  But this wasn’t always the case.

While the basic idea behind public diplomacy is not new (E. H. Carr discussed it in the Twenty Year Crises in 1939) its modern terminology has gained widespread popularity only more recently.  Prior to the 1940s the term propaganda does not appear to have been viewed as always negative.  Some scholars believe that it was actually the heavy German use of information/ideological warfare during that conflict that delegitimatized the term.

The difference between these two strategies is still debated in the International Relations literature today.  But one of the most common distinctions that is drawn has to do with differences in messaging strategies.  Communications are often classified as propaganda if they are one-way broadcasts of information that are either objectively false (designed to deceive foreign voters), or they intend to narrow a complex subject in such a way that it can only be viewed from a single preferred perspective.  All of this begins to move us towards the issues of “indoctrination” or deception that seem to fit with an intuitive understanding of what propaganda is.  Alternatively, strategies of communication that provide information which reveal complexity around an issue, or inspire citizens in one country to make direct links and engage in organic information exchanges with their counterparts in another state (perhaps over music, culture or history), tend to be termed “public diplomacy.”

All of this has interesting implications when we begin to think about the martial arts.  On the one hand, it is hard to think of a recreational activity that has inspired more organic cultural exchange between communities in a variety of Asian countries and the West.  Thus, the practice of martial arts, or the building of shared associations and organizations, is an almost textbook example of public/cultural diplomacy.  Yet if those same arts were to put into a government produced film, and used to indoctrinate audiences at home or abroad with ethno-nationalist themes (as the Japanese did during the 1930s and 1940s), we would have an equally clear case of propaganda.

One can imagine a large grey area between these two ideal types. Exploring that territory might be fruitful.  However, the article below clearly falls into the propaganda camp.  This doesn’t mean that most of the information found in it is untrue.  On one level it provides a fairly reliable report of what actually happened in the now famous November 1953 “National Exhibition and Competition of Traditional Chinese Sports” held in Tianjin.  This was a critical national event in the early development of modern Wushu.  Read at this level, it is interesting to see what sorts of information about the Chinese martial arts might have been gleaned by (highly informed) Western readers in the early 1950’s.  Note also the total lack of terms like “Wushu” or even “Martial Arts” from this text, and the article’s reliance on older vocabulary such as “Shadow Boxing.”

Yet a closer reading reveals a secondary purpose that moves beyond journalism.  At almost every turn this article goes to lengths to argue that it is the Communist Party, and not its vanquished Nationalist rival, that is responsible for the modernization and popularization of the Chinese martial arts.  Indeed, the “history” provided here only recounts the KMT’s suppression of martial arts and individual performers.  No mention is made of the Central Guoshu Institute, or the three large national meets that were held during the 1920s and 1930s. Instead, the 1953 event (which was quite impressive) was held up as the very first national martial arts and traditional sports tournament in Chinese history.

Like practically everything else that appeared within the pages of China Reconstructs during the Cold War, this article needs to be explicitly examined as a piece of political propaganda. Yet its main goal was not really to shape America’s vision of China through its martial arts. That would come later. Rather, at this early stage it still sought to delegitimize the CCP’s traditional rival, the KMT, through a debate over who was best preserving the “positive” aspects of China’s traditional culture.

This does not mean that an attentive reader would not have gleaned certain ideas about the nature of Chinese society from the author’s description of its traditional fighting systems.  One would have learned, for instance, that China’s martial arts were just as ethnically diverse as its population.  Further, ethnic minority martial artists were shown to be quite skilled (though usually within their own area of cultural expertise) and capable of defeating the very best Han competitors.  One also would have learned that modern martial arts competitions were very democratic in the sense that their many events provided opportunities for everyone from elderly men to young girls to compete in events that played to their specific strengths.  Lastly, the Chinese people were shown to value both self-cultivation and balance through their approach to the martial arts.

Some of these themes would reappear in later articles on Wushu published after the end of the Cultural Revolution in the 1970s and 1980s, while others would be retired.  The following article is a critical record, not just of the public emergence of the PRC’s new Wushu push, but of how this event was recast as a propaganda tool within an early Cold War framework.

 

Source: China Reconstructs 1954

 

Tournament of Old Sports

Lin Chien, 1954.

In China today, alongside unprecedented spread of modern athletics, the traditional sports of the people are being revived.  Among a tremendous variety of forms developed since ancient times, a large number are of great value to health and recreation. Aesthetically too, many of the movements are remarkable for rhythm and beauty, with a close relationship to dance. In this, as in every other field of culture, the People’s Government has been making great efforts to preserve those positive aspects of the national heritage which are of use in the new life of China.

Regional traditional sports meets were held in Harbin for Northeastern China and Tientsin for North China, in 1951 and 1952.  At the same time, many local teams and groups were set up and expanded their activity.  Last November, a national exhibition and tournament took place which brought together the best performers from all over the country—in the same way as the best dramatic troupes had been brought together in the National Drama Festival of 1952 and the best folk artists in the National Festival of Folk Music and Dance in 1953.

Originally it had been intended to incorporate this event in the National Athletic Meet held in Peking in the previous month; there being no intention to separate national from international forms of physical culture. But because there were so many athletes, it proved inconvenient to accommodate both at the same time and the traditional sports meet, the first in Chinese history, was held separately in the new municipal stadium in Tientsin, which seats 13,700 spectators.  It went on, before packed stands, for an entire week.

 

Nationwide Representation

The 397 participants were assembled under the auspices of the All-China Athletic Federation with the cooperation of the athletic departments of the trade-unions, youth and other organizations. Contingents came from all the administrative areas—Northeastern, Northwest, North, East, Central-South and Southwest China, from the Inner Mongolian Autonomous Region, the People’s Liberation Army and the All-China Railway Sports Association.

Ten nationalities were represented: Han, Hui, Mongolian, Uighur, Kazakh, Tatar, Miao, Thai, Korean and Manchu—their colorful dress adding to the gay spectacle.  In ordinary life, the athletes were workers, peasants, soldiers, students, teachers, government workers, members of the professions, Lamas (Buddhist monks) and housewives.  Not all Chinese sports depend on strength and stamina.  Some are judged on style and grace, so that there are forms suitable to all ages. The youngest participant in the meet was eight years old.  The oldest was 80.

 

“Chuan Shu”

Most of the entrants were enrolled in the categories of Chuan Shu (“shadow boxing”) and Chinese fencing.  They performed solo or in pairs, and occasionally in larger groups, bare handed or with old style weapons.  Such exercises, which are exceedingly varied, exist in every section of China.  In ancient times, they were closely connected with training in self-defense and were used by armies.  Now, after a very long period of differentiated development, they have a greater significance as a form of physical conditioning.

“Shadow boxing” is generally done by one person. A performer who was much applauded at the meet was Lan Su-chen, a young teacher from the Southwest.  In the “soft-flowing style” of which she is an exponent, the movements are dance-like, with superb and effortless control in the most difficult balance stances.  Seeing her, one understood the historical fact that the Chinese dance, which had all but perished as an independent art, has been preserved in some chuan shu movements as well as in the Chinese drama.  There are many versions of chuan shu, involving different degrees of muscular tension and types of movement.  In all, the entire body is exercised in a balanced way.  The benefits of chuan shu were convincingly shown by the older men.  One of them, age 67, was able, without any appearance of strain, to lift each leg alternately until it stood parallel to his body with the foot above his head. He had begun to train only after 40, to improve his health which was very bad at the time.

On the general principal of showing all related sports which hold lessons for the other, international style boxing was also shown in this section.

In fencing, performers are matched against each other the same or different arms.  A swordsman, or two swordsmen, fight with a spearman.  A man with an ordinary cudgel, or unarmed altogether, fights against edged weapons.  Despite the tremendous speed and intricacy of both attack and defense, the opponents only touch each other lightly to show their ability in real combat.  Sometimes actual weapons are used, sometimes facsimiles made of less dangerous materials—as in short fights in which the daggers are of leather.

This division included international fencing with foils.

In the hands of traditional Chinese athletes, even weightlifting was combined with lightness of execution.  This was demonstrated by Shan Shao-san. A folk variety artist from Kaifeng, who tossed a 22-pound weight in the air with one hand more than a hundred times, juggling it as dexterously as conjurers juggle hollow balls.  In this division too, there was a contest in the international style.  Some China-side weight-lifting records were broken, and marks set approximating Olympic standards.

 

Mongolian Wrestling

The Inner Mongolians put on a particularly impressive demonstration of wrestling which, along with riding, is their favorite national sport. Mongolian men begin to wrestle at the age of six and keep on until past middle age.  The Kuomintang, fearing that the minority would rise against its oppressors, proscribed the pastime as “too combative.”  Today, as part of the active revival of all types of physical culture in Inner Mongolia, it has come back to its own.

At the periodic Natamu fairs in their home region, the Mongolians form two opposing ranks according to weight and height, after which they wrestle, pair by pair.  The contenders may grip each other anywhere between the neck and the waist and try for a single throw which decides the winner. The contests at the all-China meet were attended by traditional ceremonies.  Team-members not engaged in the current bout lined up in long blue gowns, round hats and cowhide boots and truck up a rumbling bass chant, “Pick your best wrestlers and begin.”  As they did so, the wrestlers came out hopping from foot to foot in a warming-up dance with legs and arms spread-eagled.  Big magnificently-muscled men, they wore cowhide neckbands with brightly colored pendants each standing for a victory, brass-studded belts, billowing trousers of many yards of snow-white material, leather belts and embroidered leggings. After wrestling, the dance and chant were repeated.

In the heavyweight finals, the Mongolian herdsmen Tsengkir fought with the 200-pound Tien-tsin stevedore Chang Kuei-yuan, representing North China.  After Chang threw Tsengkir bodily out of the ring but failed to floor him according to the rules, another bout was fought with Tsengkir winning.  Inner Mongolia’s wrestlers got two first places and one third.

Steeke of Sinkiang province, and athlete of Uighur nationality, won great applause in a breath-taking feat—walking and dancing along a tight-rope stretched at a 45 degree angle from the ground to the top of a pole 66 feet high.  Steeke tells how, when performing in the past, he was pushed around by Kuomintang police.  Today he is a regular member of the Kashgar district cultural troupe and is teaching his art to seven pupils, including his two daughters.

 

Source: China Reconstructs 1954

 

Feats of Archery

Archery was well represented.  Two Inner Mongolians, a hunter and a peasant, were the victors in the main events.  Other performers showed that many more things can be done with bows than just shooting arrows at targets.  The bow as a test of strength was demonstrated by Chang Ying-chieh who drew four of them, using both arms and legs.  He exhibits at Peking’s Tienchiao bazaar with his father, who taught him how to do it. Kao Chuan-yung, a Peking linotype operator, can shoot marbles from an ordinary bow with amazing accuracy.  One of his feats is to balance a marble on the upturned sole of one foot which is bent back toward his thigh, and, twisting his body and head around, to hit it with a second marble shot from a bow.  Kao was very disappointed that he had no one to compete with in this unique type of archery, which used to exist in the past but has now virtually died out.  He developed his own skill, he said, when he used to go out hunting pigeons to supplement his diet in the days before the liberation.  Now he is teaching the art to three fellow-workers in the print shop where he is employed.

While all these events were taking place in the center of the Tientsin stadium, various feats of horsemanship were performed in the outer circle, with the Inner Mongolians once more excelling.  Regular-style polo was also played.

 

Popularization and Renewal

A notable feature of the meet was the beginning it laid in the working out of standards for the performance and judging of traditional Chinese sports. Previously there had been no systematization, and the more highly-skilled practitioners clung to various “secrets,” sharing them with only a few or with no one.  Now athletes from all over China have exchanged experiences.  In addition, perhaps 200,000 people were present at the meet and thousands more at later exhibitions performances when the prize winners went on tour.  Films, photographs and newspapers accounts have informed millions of others.   The whole field of Chinese national athletics has been classified into four categories—calisthenics, dance, physio-therapy and defense—and much progress is expected along all these lines.

The All-China Traditional Sports Meet was treated as an important event in the athletic life of the country.  It was part of the process of popularization and renewal of the rich culture that has come down from the past.  Its significance was emphasized by messages, received specially for the occasion, from Chairman Mao Tse-tung and Vice-Chairman Chu Teh of the Central People’s Government, as well as in the full treatment given by the press.  Now a series of local meets is scheduled to take place. They are certain to result in new discoveries and new developments.

Lin Chien. 1954. “Tournament of Old Sports,” China Reconstructs. No. 2 (March/April) pp. 40-43

 

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If you enjoyed this account you might also want to read: Conceptualizing the Asian Martial Arts: Ancient Origins, Social Institutions and Leung Jan’s Wing Chun.

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Judo in Taiwan, 1895-1945: The Dark Side of Martial Arts Politics

Rafu Dojo team at the Southern California Judo Tournament, April 1940. Collection of Yukio Nakamura. Source: http://www.discovernikkei.org/en/journal/2014/5/2/more-than-a-game-2

 

Dong Jhy and J. A. Mangan. 2018. “Japanese Cultural Imperialism in Taiwan: Judo as an Instrument of Colonial Conditioning.” in Mangan, Horton, Ren and Ok (eds.) Japanese Imperialism: Politics and Sport in East Asia – Rejection, Resentment and Revanchism. Palgrave Macmillian.

 

Introduction

I have been looking for comparative sources to enrich my overall understanding of China’s use of martial arts-themed public diplomacy strategies in the 20th and 21st centuries.  These other cases take a variety of forms.  Much of this material has proved to be quite interesting. I am slowly working my way through a volume on the history of table tennis, and the surprising role it assumed in Cold War era high stakes diplomacy. Indeed, it is not a coincidence that the PRC first began to send touring groups of Wushu athletes to the West during the era of “Ping Pong Diplomacy.”  It is always helpful to be able to place developments in realm of the martial arts within a larger social and political context.

Alternatively, one can conduct a comparative study by holding the martial arts constant, and looking for other instances in which they played a critical role in a diplomatic or political process.  This is actually surprisingly easy to do as many East and South East Asian countries have turned to local hand combat traditions when attempting to exercise “soft power” on the international stage.  While Chinese efforts to promote Wushu may be the most visible of these campaigns at the moment, it falls within a long tradition that began with Japanese attempts to create a positive image through the global spread of Judo, and culminated with Korea’s successful bid to globalize Taekwondo in the 1970s and 1980s.  Even minor powers such as Thailand, the Philippines and Indonesia have sought to leverage their martial arts and combat sports in the promotion of both tourism and national brand building campaigns.

Still, as J. A. Manga et. al. would quickly remind us, this tendency of connecting political and athletic ambition is not unique to East Asia.  A quick survey of European literature during the 19thcentury suggests that the West’s imperial ambitions often found expression in, and were consciously cultivated through, the development of school sports and gymnastics programs.  Such endeavors could produce the sorts of healthy bodies and disciplined spirits that the era’s militaries and civil services both required.

This tendency was developed to a greater degree on the playing fields of the UK’s public schools than one might expect.  It was there that games like cricket, or the training for track and field events, came to be seen as the crucible which shaped the soul of the nation.  Given the extraordinary reach of the British Empire, this ideological and rhetorical turn would have profound effects on the development of global culture.  The UK exported not just technology and free trade, but also an entire culture of international sporting competition which has subsequently been taken up almost everywhere in the world.

In the introduction to this volume Mangan illustrates, at some length, how the questions of sporting competition and empire have never really been as separate as they might at first appear.  No power, no matter how hegemonic, can afford the economic and military cost of ruling an empire through sheer force of arms.  Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that such holdings often prove so costly that alternative modes of administrations are urgently needed. Perhaps the most common of these is an attempt to instill a sense of cultural desire within the colonies for the type of life that the metropole can offer.  Once the norms, education and philosophies of the center come to be desired within the peripheries, the cost of administering one’s empire drops dramatically.  When individuals in the colonies consciously style themselves as British subjects, and attempt to succeed within the economic, social and cultural frameworks that the empire has established, it suddenly becomes possible for a small island nation to rule vast portions of the globe. And the spread of games like cricket and football are an important part of this fundamental re-ordering of cultural desire at the individual level.

Nothing about this logic is exclusively tied to the British Empire.  Indeed, as they were building their influence throughout the region another island nation and would be naval empire carefully studied these strategies.  When Japan began to assemble their own co-prosperity sphere they copied many of the lessons of other colonial empires, but added their own unique twist.  In an attempt to unify their newly seized territories they too took a strong interest in athletic endeavors, promoting some activities and banning others.  And, of course, they introduce Judo and Kendo to schools throughout the region as a central aspect of their wider strategy to pacify occupied territories by spreading Japanese norms and values.

As any good social scientist can tell you, even small differences in the way that a policy is implemented can have huge effect on eventual outcomes.  Mangan’s introduction to this edited volume begins with an interesting question.  In their time both the British and Japanese imperial influence in Asia were destructive and much resented.  Likewise, the sports that both powers introduced (football and Judo) are still widely played and have now taken on distinctly national (and at times even revanchist) characteristics.  Yet while the memory of British occupation often causes consternation, it is nothing compared to fury that can be unleashed by discussions of Japanese imperialism.  Why is this?

This anger has many sources, not the least of which was flagrant human rights violations throughout the Second World War.  Yet the authors of this volume also suggest that the Japanese approach to empire building, specifically with regard to athletics and the martial arts in the pre-war period, became a source of major resentment in areas like Korea and Taiwan.  Whereas the British had attempted to use their mastery of the athletic realm to create the sort of cultural desire that lays at the heart of “soft power,” the Japanese vacillated between policies which sought to promote Judo as a means of winning “hearts and minds” in some time periods, and mandating its practice as a tool of militarism and cultural genocide (all backed by a repressive state apparatus) in others.  Or to use Joseph Nye’s paradigm, they sought to bring the athletic practices within the realm of “hard power.”  The results of this policy were mixed in some areas (Taiwan) and simply disastrous in others (Korea).  But the very different approach of the Japanese to the question of promoting martial practice abroad, compared to either the British in the 19thcentury, or attempts to establish Wushu as a universal Olympic sport today, suggests all of this might make for a compelling comparative case.

 

Rifles and bayonets for a school military drill class behind two Judo students. Vintage Japanese postcard, late 1930s. Source: Author’s personal collection.

 

Bringing Judo to Taiwan

Any number of chapters in this edited volume have interesting things to say on this topic.  But for the sake of brevity I would like to narrow the focus of my discussion to the political uses of Judo in the occupation of Taiwan between 1895 and 1945.  Dong Jhy and J. A. Mangan provide what is the most extensive discussion of this topic that I have yet seen in a paper titled “Japanese Cultural Imperialism in Taiwan: Judo as an Instrument of Colonial Conditioning.” By way of quick introduction, I would like to recommend it to anyone who is interested in the complex relationships between the martial arts and imperialism, or even the formation of political identities through martial practice. This brief chapter provides a focused overview of Japan’s problematic introduction of Judo into Taiwan, and the role of martial artists in furthering the process of both colonization and modernization. Indeed, this discussion will quickly disabuse readers of the notion that all outcomes of martial practice are positive, or that these practices are somehow apolitical by nature.

After its 1894 defeat in the first Sino-Japanese War the Qing Government was forced to secede the island of Taiwan to the increasingly powerful Japanese state.  As the authors of the article make clear, Judo arrived soon after the formal handover in 1895. Of course, that same year saw the creation of the Dai Nippon Butokukai in Japan.  This organization, dedicated to the promotion of the Japanese martial arts in service of the state and the Royal family, would forge a close relationship with the state’s Interior Ministry and police forces.  These same officers would play a critical role in seeding the practice of Judo (as well as Kendo) in Korea when they were transferred there as part of the colonial government.

Indeed, by 1900 the Butokukai would begin to open its own branches in Taiwan.  Much as in Japan, local officials and police officers took the lead in raising funds to construct regional training centers.  These buildings became the locations for instruction and tournaments, all of which served to extend Japan’s cultural influence in the region.  Just as importantly, they would eventually facilitate martial arts themed “good will” travel and exchanges between Taiwan and Japan.

Educational reform was one of the first major projects undertaken by the new colonial government and in 1898 they went about regulating the sorts of physical education that Taiwanese children should receive.  In addition to promoting public health the new “gymnasium” classes were designed to both introduce children to a variety of “Japanized” sports as well as to inculcate them with the proper patriotic values.  Mandated activities included marching with Japanese flags, singing Japanese songs, learning the Japanese national anthem and developing “Japanese” norms such as team spirit and discipline.

Still, a careful reading of the author’s timeline suggests that in this earliest period most Judo practice occurred on a purely voluntary basis with local police officers (who were required to practice as part of their professional certification) acting as instructors.  They note that in this initial phase of practice the introduction of the martial arts were seen mostly as a tool to build a common community and “win hearts and minds.”  In that sense the political theory of martial practice remained within the realm of soft power.

While Taiwan was one of the Japan’s longest held territories, and its programs for subjugating the people would ultimately have some success, the colonial government suffered several violent early attacks.  Following a number of uprisings in 1915 the Japanese government responded by increasing its policy of promoting Judo classes as a form of “recreational distraction.”  But again, at this early point almost all of the instructors remained either Japanese police officers or guest teachers from Japan. Because of the long length of time needed to establish strong schools and to train competitive athletes, many of the “Taiwanese” competitors who appeared in Japanese contests during this period were actually Japanese police officers stationed on the Island.  That pattern would quickly begin to change as the practice grew more firmly established.

Between 1918 and 1920 (and largely in response to the spread of the Wilsonian ideal of the self-determination after WWI) the Japanese government in Taiwan adopted the policy of “gradualism and separatism.” This would have a major impact on how the martial arts were practiced.  In essence, the occupying Japanese force decided that the best way to head off localized calls for “self-determination” was to rapidly accelerate the trends towards cultural assimilation that had already been established in their social and educational policies.  Both individuals and groups were pressured to see themselves exclusively as Japanese subjects, and those who resisted came under increasing sanction.  For the Taiwanese middle class, the practice of Judo quickly became a sign of the acceptance of this Japanese cultural identity and an important means to get ahead in (Japanese controlled) local society. Judo was seen by the government as a tool by which the Taiwanese population could be transformed into an essential (if forever unequal) aspect of the Japanese body politic.

The formal advent of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937 caused another revaluation of Japan’s martial arts policy in the region.  Whereas prior policies had vacillated between attempts to regulate activity, and the more traditional use the martial arts as a way of building an internalized desire for Japanese identity, the die was now cast.  For the remainder of its occupation the colonial government would seek only to advance the “Japanization Movement.”

As the need for military recruits and tax revenues grew, the colonial government sought to legislate a highly restrictive vision of cultural assimilation.  The use of the Chinese written language, the study of Chinese history or literature and the wearing of Chinese dress were all prohibited.  Chinese religious temples and festivals were banned.  In their place the government instituted a new brand of State Shinto.  Meanwhile Chinese customs were to be replaced with Japanese modes of dress, membership in imperial organization and even the forced adaptation of the Japanese language.  In essence the goal of these programs was to extinguish the indigenous content of Taiwanese identity, replacing it politically docile (yet physically very fit) Japanese subjects.

Once again, the Japanese martial arts were called upon to play a critical role in this national reeducation program.  Training in both Kendo and Judo became mandatory for all male students with the goal of instilling the “Bushido spirit.”  This would be critical as large numbers of Taiwanese citizens would soon find themselves serving in the Imperial military.  Indeed, the authors suggest that an awareness of shared rituals of martial practice was critical to the process of instilling a shared sense of “Japanese identity” not just at home, but within the colonies as well.

Imported martial practices may play an especially insidious role within a colonial context. According to the authors, Frantz Fanon noted that individuals often internalize a unique sense of self-hatred which causes them to seek to shed those aspects of themselves (from skin color, to lifestyle, culture and mode of education) that mark them as colonial subjects.  While Joseph Nye never seems to have considered this issue, we can actually understand Fanon’s self-loathing as the very real negative aspect of the cultural desire for the other that defines soft power.

I am not convinced that in the long-run the abuse of soft power is any more humane than its military or economic cousins. As Fanon notes, once the colonizer disappears this cultural inferiority complex can remain and maintain the institutions of hegemony long after one would have assumed that they should have collapsed (also see Robert Keohane,After Hegemony).  The martial arts come into this story as these are systems that can be mastered by “outsiders”.  They can thus be seen as confering a sort of honorary status on their practitioners, in this case signaling the perfection of one set of desired traits (the Budo values). And by offering this possibility of individual escape and redemption, the martial arts as a tool of colonial subjugation become ever more engrained within local society.

It is important to remember that long after the Japanese were forced to withdraw from the region, their martial arts remain.  Judo is still quite popular in Taiwan.  And Korea is probably the only country in the world capable of routinely fielding Kendo teams that can match the Japanese.  In their current forms these arts have been (once again) reimagined and reconfigured.  What was once a tool of national oppression is now understood as an aspect of a more positive national pride.  Yet as the authors note, when Taiwanese and Japanese (or Korean and Japanese) martial artists meet, the sudden eruption of revanchist emotions suggest just how deep the scars of imperialism run, and the degree to which these arts were implicated in the construction and maintenance of Japan’s short-lived empire.

 

Judo at Ina Middle School. Vintage postcard circa late 1930s. Source: Author’s personal collection.

 

Conclusion

No chapter, especially one as brief as this, is without its limitations.  Given the importance of the subject matter one wishes that Dong Jhy and J. A. Mangan would have been able to bring more primary source material into their discussion. For instance, I liked the comparison of overwrought writing on school sports, produced in the UK during leadup to WWI, contrasted with the equally romantic verses on the nobility of military self-sacrifice, which pepper Mangan’s introduction to this volume.  Those quotes and sources really grounded the larger theoretical argument in a specific time and place.

Sadly, similarly specific sources tend to be missing from the later discussion of the Taiwanese case.  In Martial Arts and the Body Politic in Meiji Japan, Denis Gainty drew on a wide range of statements by political leaders, reports in the local press, and articles in various martial arts publications to illustrate the ways in which martial artists used their agency (and practice) to gain influence in Meiji Japan.  It would have been nice to see similar statements from martial arts societies or colonial leaders who seemed to be carrying out similar (though not identical) policies in Taiwan.  The authors provide what appears to be a very credible reading of the historical record. Yet without more specific statements grounding all of this within the lives or careers of specific martial artists, it is difficult to know how much weight their reconstruction can really bear.  I fully expect this sort of material is out there.  The Butokukai seems to have liked nothing so much as a good newsletter and seeing its events reported in local newspaper.  But bringing it to the fore may be helpful.

Doing so might also shed light on one of the critical questions to arise out of Gainty’s work.  It is one thing to observe the vast sweep of a historical process.  That is basically what the authors have given us with their history of Judo in Taiwan.  And it is certainly important to see the ways that global trends (such as the spread of Wilson’s self-determination in 1918-1920) have shaped events.  Yet where did the actual causal variable lay?  How much of this outcome was really due to the structural considerations of colonial management, or global politics? Alternatively, what role did the agency of Japanese martial arts instructors, and later their Taiwanese disciples, play in promoting and maintaining these colonial systems?

Perhaps that would be a difficult subject to open up.  It is clear that the Japanese martial arts had a very mixed legacy in Taiwan during the first half of the 20thcentury, and it is impossible to discuss agency without also touching on the concept of individual and institutional accountability.  Yet if we really want to understand how the martial arts functioned within various political contexts (some innocuous and others more sinister) I don’t think we can afford to ignore this more granular level of investigation.  After all, many individuals gravitate toward the martial arts precisely because they seek a sense of personal empowerment.  Political studies of the Japanese martial arts, such as the one provided here, as well as Gainty’s prior volume, suggest that this aspiration may not have been entirely misplaced.  As such questions remain as to whether these practices will embolden or reign-in our worst impulses.  One would hope for the later, but the historical record suggests that there are no guarantees.

 

oOo

If you enjoyed this post you might also want to read: Butterfly Swords and Long Poles: A Glimpse into Singapore’s 19th Century Martial Landscape

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Nonviolence and Martial Arts Studies

I have seen this image circulating the internet as a wallpaper, but I believe its original source is here: http://www.nyaikikai.com/

 

***One of my goals in creating Kung Fu Tea was to inspire more enthusiasm for (and participation in) the scholarly discussion of martial arts.  As such, I am happy to share a reader’s lengthy response to a recent essay.  After seeing his original comment I felt that it could be expanded to make a great guest post.  My original essay was a thought experiment in which I tried to applied a single signature concept of the Peace Studies literature to the discussion of martial arts.  This approach to International Relations (my home field) tends to be much more popular in Europe than the US, and I wanted to see what what would happen if I approached thing from a slightly different angle.  But all of this inspired Frank Landis to present some ideas of his own. Enjoy!***

 

Nonviolence and Martial Arts Studies

By Frank Landis

 

I appreciate the chance to write a guest essay on a blog I’ve read for years.  This post is in response to ”Violence and Peace: Reconsidering the Goals of Martial Arts.”  It’s an expansion of a comment I wrote on that post. Simply put, I believe that it might be more useful to analyze violence in the martial arts among multiple dimensions, rather than a single dimension of peace-to-violence, as Ben proposed in that piece.

First some background: who am I?

I’m not a martial artist, although I was one of the vast multitude of indifferent students of several martial arts some decades ago.  These days, I just practice qigong and meditation.  Professionally I am a writer and environmental activist, and I happen to have a PhD in Ecology.  This last fact is quite relevant: we ecologists tend to be “statistical bottom feeders,” in that we have a strong tendency to swipe analytical methods from other fields, rather than inventing our own.  In my work, I’ve used a number of sociology techniques to analyze data.  Even though I’m not a sociologist, I’m somewhat familiar with sociological methods, at least so far as I have learned and applied them to my own work.

The central question, as I see it, is whether it’s more useful to look at the diversity of martial arts, and their place in society, along a single dimension, with peace at one end and violence at the other, or whether it’s more useful to look at multiple dimensions and a multidimensional cloud of possibilities.  Keeping explanatory dimensions as simple as possible is ideal, but simplification breeds confusion when a single explanatory dimension lumps together phenomena that do not have much in common.  A multidimensional approach opens up a more complex space in which to look for explanations and patterns. However, if there are too many dimensions (say, one dimension per case), then the complexity is useless: every case is unique and unrelated to the others.  The sweet spot is a system of dimensions that’s complex enough make patterns and relationships obvious, but simple enough to be able to construct explanatory (and dare we hope predictive?) narratives from the patterns we find.

The other relevant part of my background is the 2016 US Presidential election.  I am very much not a supporter of the current US regime, and after the election, I started reading the literature on nonviolence.  My reasons were simple. I figured I had good odds of getting involved in protests (and I have), and I wanted to understand the theory and practice of nonviolence well enough that I might actually be useful. At minimum I wanted to avoid being suckered into joining a badly organized, useless, exercise.  As an environmentalist, I know all too much about those.  So I’ve done a lot of reading and a lot of thinking about both nonviolence and martial arts.  That is what I present here.

Now, about nonviolence in a martial arts context.  Why should any martial artist care about nonviolence?  There are two answers.  One is to look at the commonalities.  Both nonviolent actors and martial artists need to be able to absorb an attack and maintain discipline.  For example, imagine a 70 year-old grandmother who’s out protesting and gets beaten by the cops.  Turns your stomach, right, that helpless old lady being clubbed by guys wearing body armor?  That visceral feeling is the power of nonviolence, and if people witnessing the beating are turned against the people doing the beating, that little old lady has won her fight.  Theorists of nonviolence call that “political jujitsu.”  A little old lady may not be able to strike back, but paradoxically, by being willing to suffer for her cause she can win, even when she’s being dragged off to jail.  That willingness (and discipline) to suffer to one’s attain goals unites many nonviolent actors and martial artists.

The second reason martial artists may want to care about nonviolence comes from Chenoweth and Stephan’s  Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict.  In their analysis of hundreds of conflicts from the last century, movements that used nonviolent tactics were twice as likely to reach their goals as were those that used violence (52% to 26%).  While their database includes great nonviolent victories like Gandhi’s expulsion of the British from India, as well as great defeats like Tiananmen Square,  on the local level, it is the utility of nonviolence which explains why workers almost always choose to strike, rather than to physically attack their employers or work places.  Striking is not about weakness, it’s about efficacy.  A big part of what makes nonviolent action so efficacious is that everyone, from children to little old ladies, can take part.  In contrast, the percentage of the population that can (or will) get involved in violent attacks is much smaller, requiring greater physical fitness or training. Returning to the subject at hand, the theories explaining the utility of nonviolence, especially those of Gene Sharp and his followers, can be usefully applied to the study of martial arts in the wider society.

For the sake of discussion, I propose there are four dimensions related to peace and violence in which hand combat might be considered, although the fourth is peripheral to most modern martial arts.

One dimension is about the exercise of physical power, with nonviolence at one end of the spectrum and violence at the other. This is an extension of what’s conventionally termed the “use of force continuum.”  Most of us are familiar with the concept, espoused by many police departments, as a rational for how they justify the use of force.

The US Navy version of this continuum (from nonviolent to violent) is “Officer presence, Verbal commands, Soft controls, Hard controls, Intermediate weapons, and Lethal force (per the link above).  I would suggest that this continuum extends both on the nonviolent end, with a huge diversity of nonviolent tactics beyond presence and verbal command that includes Sharp’s list of 198 tactics.  I would also suggest that the lethal force end of the continuum extends well beyond what police deploy, with all the variations of lethal force practiced by militaries up to nuclear war.

One thing to realize is this dimension isn’t about what trumps what.  To use an absurd example, police officers don’t make arrests by walking around with nuclear warheads and threatening to detonate them if people resist arrest.  More specifically, the use of lethal force against nonviolent protestors is generally considered so abhorrent that a nonviolent campaign can use “political jujitsu” to leverage a regime’s inappropriately scaled response to effectively delegitimize its grasp on political power.  Instead, this dimension covers the diverse kinds of conflicts, from debates to shouting matches to wrestling to fist fights to knife fights to gun battles to artillery battles and beyond.

 

Taijiquan. Source: Edwin Lee/flickr

 

On this dimension, martial arts occupies a space in the middle, focusing on what the police consider soft controls, hard controls and intermediate weapons, and tapering gradually into both lethal force and nonviolent training.  It’s worth realizing that the wider, political world occupies a much bigger space, with entities from governments to corporations, gangs, and activist groups, being involved in both nonviolent and explicitly violent means of using and supporting their social or political power.

The second dimension is explicitly derived from the late Gene Sharp’s analysis of how nonviolence works.  He outlines two models of the origin of political power: top-down and bottom-up. Top down power is imposed from above, by conquest, or justified by the divine right of kings, the Mandate of Heaven, and various other authoritarian theories.  At the other end of the dimension we see bottom-up approaches where people claim their own power and manufacture their own organizations without aid from above.  This is a dimension and not a dichotomy, in part because when grassroots groups are fighting entrenched and unjust governments, one of their essential steps has to be pulling powerful groups, like big business and the military, onto the side of the protestors and away from supporting an unjust government.  I’d argue also that bottom-up and top-down often meet in the messy middle, and that the people and organizations with some power occupy this middle and influence both the established order and the people who want to change the system.

Sharp’s analyses focus on nonviolence in the context of “bottom-up” struggles, of people who are not in power finding ways to bend the authorities to their will or to disempower existing governments.  This is a vital analysis, but in linking nonviolence with bottom-up power structures, Sharp’s analysis ignores all the ways that nonviolence is promulgated through top-down strategies.  These include states conventionally monopolizing the use of force and constraining their citizens to less violent or nonviolent actions, and to all the ways that states promulgate order and peace as memes, ethics, and norms.  There’s a reason that ambassadors spend time talking with each other: generally it is more effective than starting with an armed assault and then de-escalating when the sides reach a stalemate.

In the context of Chinese martial arts and history, it appears to me as a nonexpert that both Confucianism and Daoism, at least rhetorically, promulgate ethics of peace and justice, and see war as justifiable only in the context of what we in the West would call a “just war.”  While this is a gross oversimplification that ignores a lot of history and culture, it does point out the utility of having two dimensions of political power: one being the continuum of force and one being top-down versus bottom-up power.   Chinese martial arts seem to be on the more-violent and bottom-up side of the graph, as opposed to a government that is top-down and at least rhetorically nonviolent, except where violence is required to restore order and justice.  Having these two dimensions also allows us to look at how martial arts are affected by middle men and power brokers, nobles that raise militias, magistrates who defend towns using martial artists, and similar situations.

The third dimension runs from performance to practical application.  The military is on practical application end of the spectrum.  Uniformed troops on parade, or doing demonstrations, are certainly engaging in an act of public performance, but soldiers were also supposed to be willing and able to use lethal force to end political conflict.  On the performance end of the spectrum we might find martial arts sets like The Drunkard’s Kung Fu that Leung Ting published decades ago. It’s impractical for fighting, but certainly entertaining to watch. Such a set serves a functional goal when a performer can use it to make money and eat.

 

The Landis Typology of Martial Types. (Chart by Benjamin Judkins so please forgive any misreadings.)

 

There’s a whole range of intermediates possitions in the martial arts world along the spectrum from performance to practical application, and they have different uses that are integral to the survival of many martial arts. I think that most people would rather perform cool sets and possibly intimidate their way out of fights, and very few would rather practice actually killing their opponents.  It seems that martial arts styles that only trains its students to maim or kill their enemies (and hopefully not each other) generally have far fewer students than ones that teach other socially acceptable skills like discipline, fitness, and ethics.

While this dimension alludes to the endless debates about which school is better in the octagon or on the street, or whether a set is dead or alive, it doesn’t provide answers to those debates.  So far as I’m concerned, both performance and practicality have different and vital functions. The point is to understand the existence of diversity, not to rank it.  On the nonviolent side, there seems to be a similar diversity ranging from big, flashy, useless rallies (on the performance side) to targeted effective strikes (on the practical).

When we start looking at martial arts in three dimensions, we see a real diversity: for example, there is wushu, which is driven by the top-down politics, relatively nonviolent, and performance focused.  There are mixed martial arts, which are more bottom-up, occupy the nonlethal violence part of the continuum, and are fairly practical about the mechanics of forcing people to submit.  Then there are systems like William Paul’s nonviolent self-defense.  This system, used most often in hospitals, is nonviolent, practical, and in the middle of the top-down/bottom-up spectrum, since it is usually taught within medical institutions as on-the-job education.  If you’re not familiar with this system, it teaches medical professionals to protect themselves from patients and family members who are threatening or acting out violently.  The goal is not to hurt the violent people, who may be delusional or extremely upset, but for practitioners to deescalate if possible, get out of the situation while minimizing the chance that they get hurt, and at most to restrain people without hurting them.

These three dimensions also allow us to talk about the evolution of martial arts over time.  At least according to their origin stories, they often begin as individuals protecting themselves against an unjust world (e.g. bottom-up, fairly violent, and practical), and evolve as they grow to become more institutionalized, often more performance based (with sets replacing sparring, or empty hand fights replacing weapons), and sometimes less violent (focusing on keeping students out of trouble as opposed to helping them win fights).  All of this may be vital fir keeping schools open and attracting students.  For example, the evolution of Wing Chun could be seen from the bottom-up perspective focusing on the practical application of hard controls and lethal force to the problem of self defense in a region where the state’s monopoly on violence had broken down. But where the art has survived and the school(s) grew and spread by colonizing more performative and less explicitly violent and more explicitly legal spaces.

There is a fourth dimension, but martial arts tend not to diversify along it.  That dimension is about organization, with individuals at one end and large organizations, like armies and movements, at the other.  Martial arts tend to focus on the development of individuals.  It is comparatively uncommon for martial arts schools to teach formation fighting or how to organize small units, let alone how to organize big campaigns strategically.  However, organization is critical for both military and nonviolent campaigns, and it is what military officers are taught in their schools and nonviolent leaders learn from their instructors.

While organizing small-unit tactics isn’t hard—witness everyone from the Society for Creative Anachronisms to nonviolent protestors, the antifa, and the alt-right all reinventing shield walls—it’s not part of what most martial arts schools teach.  At most, organizational training in the martial arts is on the level of the capoeira roda, organized skill demonstrations and tournaments, newsletters on the profitable running of dojos, and the like.  Still, organization is an important dimension for analyzing the exercise of power in wide variety of milieus, so I’ll pitch it out there for people to think about in the context of martial arts.

Violence in martial arts can more usefully be discussed and analyzed with reference to three or four separate dimensions, rather than one.  Like all models these are ideas worth playing with only to the extent that they are useful, and it is in that spirit I’m offering them to anyone who might find it worthwhile.  Thanks for this opportunity to present it.

 

oOo

If you enjoyed this guest post you might also want to read: Love Fighting Hate Violence: An Anti-Violence Program for Martial Arts and Combat Sports

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ON MAKING MARTIAL ARTS MORE SCIENTIFIC

科學化的國術
SCIENTIFIC MARTIAL ARTS
吳志青
by Wu Zhiqing
[originally published as 應用武術中國新體操 Using Martial Arts to Make China’s New Calisthenics in 1919/1920, (known more commonly as just 中國新體操 China’s New Calisthenics), then published in serialized form in 武術 Martial Arts Magazine as 應用科學之國術 Applying Science to Martial Arts, 1921, and finalized in book form during 1921 as 科學化的國術 Scientific Martial Arts]

體育良師
Physical education is an excellent teacher indeed.
王正廷題
– calligraphy by Wang Zhengting

志氣精神
On willpower, energy, essence, spirit:
三軍不可奪者志也
To be unconquerable even by armies – that is what it means to have willpower.
百折而不撓者氣也
To be sent down many detours and yet never be frustrated – that is what it means to have energy.
專一而不雜者精也
To be focused on one thing and not distracted by many – that is what it means to have essence.
聖而不可知者神也
“To have wisdom beyond the comprehension of others – that is what it means to have spirit.” [Mengzi, chapter 7b]
閩侯林傳甲敬題
– calligraphy by Lin Chuanjin of Minhou County

沈序
PREFACE BY SHEN ENFU

東方數千年號稱古文明一大國如吾中華者,當然有甚多之國粹流傳於世間,而供教育者研究之資料也。雖然,東方國性,向多趨重貴族式,而罕為平民式者。其所謂文明事業,大抵依帝王士大夫為隆替;而閭巷田野間,農工商等之社會習尚,十九皆湮滅不傳。予甚感焉!繼而思吾國國粹,蓋偏重於文科藝術之研究,以其迫於貴族式也。若乎武術藝術。與平民社會諸藝術,均鮮列於國粹之價値矣。間嘗稽我國史,武派雖不少奇才異能;而但詳俠義,武術則略也。武科雖不少豐功偉績;而但著兵法,武術則缺也。若是乎中國果無武術之國粹乎?曰,否,否,蓋有之。則在江湖獻藝者之手技,或方外僧侶等之口授;若欲求諸學校教育,專科研究,以普及於平民智識者,闃然未之前聞。夫世間無論何事,皆自有其條理,皆可為藝術;為藝術,皆可成學科,而有其教材。况乎吾國武術,自有精義原理良法妙用存乎其中,卓然為我東方古文明國一大國粹。雖少專書傳世,然自有能之者學習而傳之。日本有柔術專家,蔚成武士道。歐洲古時有武士教育,今尤多技擊家。列强之名,有由來矣。今我國正患文弱,倘有武術家起而振奮之,寧非急務乎?吳君志靑,毅然倡設武術會;更本其夙所練習之武術智能,著為武術新教材。今付刊以廣供各學校之傳習,他日於普通體育科外,新樹一幟,斯已美矣!矧其裨益於平民教育,尤切實用歟?爰弁數語,以告武術學者。
新紀元之十年四月沈恩孚
For thousands of years, the “great civilization of the East” was our China. It has of course had a rich cultural influence upon the world and supplied educators with much to research. However, it is characteristic of our eastern nation to have typically emphasized things that happened to aristocrats and rarely to ordinary people, feeling that the history of a culture generally comes down to the rise and fall of emperors, kings, and generals. As for society at large in the lanes and fields, the experiences of farmers, laborers, and merchants have mostly been tossed aside, a loss which I deeply feel. When I think about our nation’s culture, I see that it has laid particular stress upon the study of literature and art precisely because it has been so obsessed with the nobility. Martial arts or any of the other skills of the common people have rarely been considered worthy of being classified among the essential aspects of our culture.
  Examining into our nation’s history, although martial arts schools have many tales of people with astounding abilities, there is information about the heroes themselves but a lack of information about the actual skills they possessed, and likewise, although our military histories have many records of great achievements, there is information about the strategies used but a lack of information about the actual skills that the soldiers used to carry them out. Are martial arts therefore absent from China’s cultural essence? No, not at all. They are to be found in the exhibitions of itinerant performers or the teachings of mystical monks. But the hope that they might be made a part of educational curricula and become a field of study, the idea of spreading them until they are common knowledge among the people, is something that is previously unheard of.
  Whatever people do, they develop a way of doing it, and thus it can become a craft. Once something is a craft, it can be turned into a course of study. And once something is made into a course of study, it will have its textbooks. This should be especially true for our nation’s martial arts, since they contain refined principles and sophisticated methods. They are an outstanding and grand feature of our ancient civilization. Although there are not many specialized books that have been passed down, there are nevertheless still capable people to pass on these teachings. Japan has its Judo masters to spread their culture of Bushido. Europe in the middle ages had its knights to set an example and now in modern times has its many skillful boxers. These are reasons why the great powers are considered “great”. Our nation is now in a state of anxiety and weakness. Is there not an urgent need for our martial arts masters to get up and inspire us?
  Wu Zhiqing, determined to promote these arts, established the Martial Arts Association and has been using the knowledge he has accumulated on the subject to produce new teaching materials, such as this book which is soon to be published and then widely supplied to various educational institutions. Someday it will have spread beyond schools of physical education and stand as a proud banner for us all, for it can also serve as a very practical means of educating the masses as a whole. Therefore I have written these few words to tell martial arts students about it.
  - Shen Enfu, April, 1921

林序
PREFACE BY LIN CHUANJIA

健全之精神,栖於健全之身體,身體不健,則精神昏惰,陷於醉生夢死,而不自知。中國自甲午一敗,睡獅始覺。余以化學生求試武備學堂。因身材短小,目力短視,不獲選。然丙申刱時務學堂,以幼學操身為體操教科,佐以中國易筋經。二十年來,南行不避煙瘴,北行不避冰霜,周遊十五省區,實賴此有用之身,精神不減也。黑龍江為尚武之地,愚夫婦十年教訓;今畢業生之武術,亦見稱於精武體育會,如劉生鳳池是也。然未若郭生濬黃,日馳馬八百里,挾五經以傳孔教於庫倫,尤勇敢也。嗟乎!南强北勝,海內紛紜。平心論之,滿蒙土厚水深,勢不可當,兵皆可用;成吉思汗征歐之偉烈,亦我五大民族之光也。願吳子鼓吹東南文明之學子,毅然自强,自此書始。並養精蓄銳,建設新事業。則體育之用於實業道德甚多,非僅以尚武耀兵也。不戢自焚,古有明訓。武裝和平,人皆可用。吾其師美利堅乎!
閩侯林傳甲謹序
A strong mind dwells in a strong body. When the body is not fit, the mind is not really awake. One slips into a befuddled lifestyle and loses self-awareness. Since our defeat in 1894 [1st Sino-Japanese War], our “sleeping tiger” of a nation began to stir, so I decided to join a military academy. But because my body is too small and I am too nearsighted, I was not accepted. In 1896, I instead established one of the Modernization Schools, where one thing that we taught to the children was physical education based on the Yijinjing exercises. For the last twenty years, I have not been able to avoid the suffocating humidity when traveling in the south or the biting frost when traveling in the north, and so while journeying through fifteen provinces [in his work as an educator, geographer, and historiographer], I have relied on such exercises to stay healthy and keep my mind sharp.
  Heilongjiang is a place that still has respect for the martial quality. I taught there with my wife for ten years. I have recently graduated in a martial arts course at the famous Jingwu Athletic Association. However, I am more like a steadfast Liu Fengchi than a superhuman Guo Junhuang, who galloped his horse hundreds of miles in a day, as I carried the Five Classics [Book of Poems, Book of History, Book of Rites, Book of Changes, Spring & Autumn Annals] under my arm to pass on Confucian teachings in places like Ulaanbaatar, which takes a peculiar courage indeed.
  The south struggled, but the north conquered, and everything in between is now a mix of cultures. Calmly put, Manchuria and Mongolia are vast territories that contain unstoppable peoples, soldiers always ready to fight. Such peoples enabled Genghis Khan’s conquests to spread all the way into Europe and are now the glory of our “five great ethnicities” [in top-down order on the Republican-era five-colored flag representing the five ethnic groups in China: Han Chinese (red), Manchus (yellow), Mongols (blue), Hui or Chinese Muslims (white), and Tibetans (black)].
  I hope that Wu’s preachings will get students of southeastern Chinese culture to resolve upon self-strengthening, which starts with books like this. Build up your energy for the new tasks that lie ahead. Physical education has a great many uses in industry and ethics, and is not just for the military. Ancient lessons have taught us: “If you do not learn to control yourself, you will destroy yourself.” [paraphrasing from Zuo’s Commentary to the Spring & Autumn Annals, 4th year of Duke Yin: “An army is like fire. If it is not restrained, it will incinerate itself.”] But to be prepared for war during peacetime is better for everyone, as the Americans have shown us.
  - sincerely written by Lin Chuanjia of Minhou County [in Fujian] [This preface is undated, but it was obviously written around the same time as the surrounding prefaces since Lin died in Jan, 1922.]

謝序
PREFACE BY XIE QIANGGONG

今之世界,科學世界也,科學之於世界,猶腦筋之於人身。無腦筋,則人身無精神;無科學,則世界無文明。故今日莊嚴燦爛之世界之新文明,實則精密佳妙之科學之現象也,科學之部類,無分乎文武,今世陋俗,執有文學無武學之說,是謬見也。夫立國大地,文武不可偏廢。故所謂武術,亦新文明之一種原素也;亦可曰一種科學也,豈徒以技藝名之乎?且卽為技藝,亦豈可無科學之原理原則乎?我中華為世界有名之古文明國,在昔帝王時代,開國創業,競尚武功。斯時講武術者,因帝王習尚,播為世界風俗;而武術家輩出,武術書紛陳,是科不無進步。迨乎國家承平,修文偃武,民風日趨文弱;不數十年,武術界不絕如縷,廢弛不復講求。蓋社會之智識,純隨帝王嗜好為轉移,數千年如出一轍,良可慨歎!歐洲當中古封建時代,諸王侯各養武士,尚技勇,武術因之日精。其後封建廢而武士屛棄,武術漸衰,中外蓋有同慨!雖然,我國之武術,遺傳於後世,而得為寶貴之一種國粹者,蓋亦不少,日本得我緒餘,別成一種武士道。維新以後,參加科學之精意,遂以技擊為戰勝强俄之特別利器,亦可謂殊榮矣!返觀吾國武術,雖有南北少林武當等派,然而有保守,無進步,不能利用之以增國防之色彩;此其故何也?蓋無專科研究之組織,卽不可合於科學之方法。是故徒事拘墟,而不能普及發展耳,吳君志靑,首創武術會於海上,成立僅及年餘,會員日增;分會且推及於閩粵南洋,遠及法國等處;前途蓋有無窮之希望焉。吳君於武術專門研究有年,其言曰:武術蓋與科學有密切之關係者也。居今日而謀救國,武術實為要圖。然苟不依科學之方式,以改良推廣之,則永無進化之日。其研究武術之大略:(一)須按生理學之義理,而不背衞生之要旨。(二)從心理上研究,求學者之智識如何精確,意志如何高尚,感情如何活潑輔以音樂,助學者之興趣。(三)須合於教育上之程序,而養成是科人才,謀普及於平民社會。(四)練習各種動作,須合實用,如交際上跳舞諸有規則之優美運動;以期改良社會粗野之習慣,而以體育輔佐德育精神,養成完全高尚之人格。綜上四者,以立武術研究之要旨;謂之武術科學可也,謂之科學武術亦可也。夫如是,是科之價値,庶幾可增高於今日競存之世界矣。今吳君又以其所研究貢獻於世而按生理之構成,與體育之原理,心理之關係,教育之順序,以編成各種柔軟體操,分之,則為精練優勝之各種新式技能;合之,則連成一貫之實用手法;狹之,則交際社會,為活潑優美之舞蹈;廣之,則捍衞國家,為出奇制勝之利器。嗟乎!中國武士道,曷嘗非新文化運動之一種乎?世有倡武術救國者,須知仍是科學救國而已。故惟有科學之武術,始足稱武術;亦始足發揮光大科學之效用也。今吳君將以斯編付刊,廣供各界之傳習。爰序其要略於簡端。
中華民國開國十年四月强公謝燮
The modern world is a scientific world. Science in the world is like the brain in the body. Without a brain, the body would have no mind. Without science, the world would not have a civilization. The majestic and magnificent world of modern civilization is indeed built upon precise and ingenious use of scientific phenomena. However, science does not categorize things into “civil” or “martial”. It is ordinary people who cling to dubious notions of civil knowledge versus martial knowledge. Because founding a nation over such a huge territory cannot be achieved by relying on either the civil or martial quality on its own, martial arts have to be equally considered to be an element of modern civilization. Martial arts can also be considered to be a science and not merely an “art”. How indeed can any skill not involve scientific principles?
  Our Chinese nation is famous throughout the world for its ancient civilization. In the days of emperors and kings, the pioneering work of founding a state was still a military endeavor. At such a time, martial arts practitioners were favored by rulers and this had an influence on the culture of the society. More martial arts experts emerged and more martial arts texts appeared, and so the science progressed. But when the nation was at peace, it turned to civil matters and abandoned military concerns, and then its people increasingly weakened. After just a few decades, the martial arts community was reduced to a precarious existence, on the edge on being forgotten. For thousands of years, our society’s customs and knowledge shifted according to the whims of its rulers, something that gives us cause to sigh with regret.
  Similarly, the nobles of Europe in the Middle Ages all supported knights and had respect for skillful warriors, and so their martial arts became more and more refined. When feudalism later ended, the knights disappeared with it, and the martial culture of Europe gradually declined. Thus both China and foreign nations face the same sense of having lost something.
  However, our nation’s martial arts were passed down to future generations and treated like cultural heirlooms. (Because there were so many, Japan took from the surplus of our martial arts to create their Bushido. After embarking on their period of modernization, they added scientific knowledge to their arsenal and then used their skills to defeat Russia, even with all her specialized weapons, surely a glorious achievement.) Looking over our nation’s martial arts, although styles classified as “northern” or “southern”, “Shaolin” or “Wudang”, have been preserved, they have not progressed. They therefore cannot be used to add to our national defense. Why? Because unless they are organized into a specialized system of study, they will not conform to a scientific methodology. If we are narrow-mindedly fixated on one style or another, our martial arts as a whole cannot be popularized and further developed.
  Wu Zhiqing founded the Martial Arts Association in Shanghai, just over a year ago, but its membership has since increased to such an extent that branch schools have spread south into Fujian and Guangdong, and even as far away as France. Its future has limitless prospects. Wu has made a specialized study of martial arts for many years and asserts that martial arts are intimately related to science. “The plan is to rescue the nation, and martial arts are the key to that plan. But if we do not rely on scientific means to improve and popularize these arts, we will never make any progress toward that goal.” His general plan for the studying of martial arts runs thus:
  1. It has to be in accordance with physiological principles and not go against the requirements of health.
  2. It should follow a psychological approach, seeking for the student’s knowledge to be accurate, ambitions to be noble, and emotional state to be lively. A musical rhythm can also be used as a means to help the student feel more engaged in the exercise.
  3. It has to be structured in a pedagogical sequence, in order to best cultivate the talents of individuals and be spread more efficiently to the rest of society.
  4. The training has to have a similar function to the rules of graceful dance, that of reforming the cruder habits of society, of boosting one’s moral instinct and elevating one’s character.
  Equipped with these four points to ground martial arts research, it can be called “martial arts science” or “scientific martial arts”. In this way, it is a valuable branch of study that can give us an edge in this modern competitive world. Wu is now offering what he has learned to the world, using principles of physiology and sports training, a psychological approach, and a pedagogical structure to make a series of calisthenic exercises. Any one of these exercises is a simple yet superior means of developing skill. When combined, they are a continuous series of practical hand techniques. Looked at with a narrow view, it serves as a lively and graceful dance which facilitates social interaction. Looked at with a broader view, it is a cunning weapon for defending the nation. Here then is Chinese Bushido. How could exercises like these not be a feature of our New Culture Movement?
  Those who promote martial arts to rescue the nation have to understand that they also need science in order to rescue the nation. Therefore it is the more scientific martial arts that deserve to be considered the real martial arts, and they are also the ones that reveal the wonderful effectiveness of science. Wu is about to send this book to the printers in order to spread the knowledge it contains to a wide audience. Thus I have written this preface to supply a brief overview.
  - written by Xie Qianggong, April, 1921

唐序
PREFACE BY TANG XINYU

世界無新物,特本諸原質,各盡發明製造之能事而已;世界無新理,特本諸自然,各盡尋繹推演之心力而已,故一代之技能,有一代之應用;一國之技能,有一國之特性;古代之技能,不必適用於今界;歐美之技能,未必適用於中國;因環境之不同,而思想之各異也,吾於體操亦然,德日之體操,重强健身體而適用於軍事;英美則重訓練精神而適用於生活,雖其方法應用各有不同,要皆本諸其固有之活動,適應各自之環境,以發揮其特性而已,不知者妄行採取,徒為削足適屨之謀,未見截長補短之效,尤有復古者流,斤斤為國粹之保存,而昧於時代環境與思想之變遷,是皆不能盡發明製造之能事,與尋繹推演之心力者也。
吾國民固自有其技能,特時代應用之不同,未免相形見絀耳,吾國又固有其特性,特訓練之法不良,故未足以發展耳,試放眼觀察現代之環境,旣不應具黷武雄心,如德日之專重軍備;又不可泰然自處,如英美之偏重生活,則吾國現代所取之體育方針,應折衷此二者,已無疑矣。吾國固有之技能為何?武術是也。固有之特性為何?仁義是也。之二者,如能加以變通採為體育之方法與目的,更善事應用訓練,以應付現代之環境,必能折衷德日英美之間,而吾國民有卓立之地位也。
吾友吳君。素精武術,尤明體育之眞義;故本其平日所學,參以教授心得。以中國固有之武術為原質,加以科學方法之製造,發明一體育上之新物品,命其名曰「應用武術中國新體操」今更名「科學化的國術」旣成此册,索序於余;余細玩其編列之次序,與應用之方法,深合生理學心理學及教育學之原理,旣足增進健康,又能引起興趣,更能養成各善良之性質,是誠體育研究之菁華,尤預備應付環境之良術也,謹弁數言,質之識者以為何如?
中華民國十年四月唐新雨
There is really nothing new in the world, everything being built from fundamental elements, and thus inventions come simply from skillfully putting those elements together. There are also really no new truths in the world, everything being derived from fundamental principles of nature, and thus insights emerge simply through persistently applying powers of deduction. And therefore the skills of a particular era will serve the needs of that era and the skills of a particular nation will be characteristic to that nation.
  Ancient skills are not necessarily suitable for the modern world. European and American skills are not necessarily suitable for China. Different circumstances bring different ideas. The same is true for our forms of exercise. German and Japanese calisthenics emphasize strengthening the body for military use, whereas British and American calisthenics emphasize boosting the spirit to make better workers. Although their methods serve different purposes, they are each based on their nation’s innate patterns of exercise, suitable for each nation’s particular circumstances, and express the character of that nation.
  Ignorant people choose any form of exercise, giving no thought to whether it is appropriate. They are following a strategy of “whittling the foot to fit the shoe”, not noticing the effects of trying to bring equality to one’s shortcomings by way of reducing one’s strengths. And then there are those who seek to return to the past in every little detail in order to preserve our national culture. They fail to understand that circumstances and ideas change over time. In both cases, such people lack skills of invention and powers of deduction.
  Our nation’s people have an innate skill, which is not as good as it used to be even though its use has varied from one era to another. Our nation’s people also have an innate character, which will not get developed if the training is not right. Looking at the wider view of our situation in modern times, we should not be too militaristic, like Germany and Japan focusing on training their armies, but we should also not be too sanguine, like Britain and America putting their attention simply on the people being able to make their livelihood. The guiding principle of the physical education we choose for our nation should undoubtedly be somewhere between the two.
  What is our nation’s innate skill? Our martial arts. What is our nation’s innate character? Benevolence and righteousness. If we can take our innate skill and our innate character and adapt them for modern times, then we can pick the right methods of physical education most suitable for our goals, and by adding in the best forms of training, we will able to respond to our present situation. We have to get the right mix of the emphasis of Germany and Japan with the emphasis of Britain and America [i.e. training for both fighting and health], and then our nation will be able to stand tall in the world.
  My colleague Wu is an expert at martial arts, and particularly understands the true significance of physical education. Therefore based on what he has learned from his own training and what he has discovered through teaching it, he has taken China’s native martial arts and added scientific methods to create a new form of physical education, which he put into a book called Using Martial Arts to Make China’s New Calisthenics, the title recently changed to Scientific Martial Arts. Once the manuscript was completed, he asked me for a preface.
  I have carefully gone through his arrangement of exercises and methods of applying them, and have found that they strongly conform to principles of physiology, psychology, and pedagogy. They are more than adequate for increasing health, and can enhance one’s sense of enjoyment, as well as cultivate good character. It is truly the height of physical education studies and is an especially good means for preparing us to deal with whatever situations might arise. I sincerely offer these few words, though I am sure that more knowledgeable people can put it better than I have.
  - Tang Xinyu, April, 1921

蔡序
PREFACE BY CAI JUEZAI

我國武術,歷久不敗,蓋有哲理存乎其間,非精於斯道者,實難洞悉之也。其後派別旣夥,眞傳漸失,所以然者,一則挾技橫行,致遭社會唾棄;一則智識譾陋,不知其所以然,而失其眞;良可惜已。歙縣吳君志靑余同學也,研究武術十有餘稔,教授之暇,輒自練習,其好學不倦之心,令人肅然起敬,民國八年,吳君集合同志,刱辦中華武術會於滬南,不期年而會員已達千餘人之多,深受社會信用,乃者出其所學,著成一籍,題曰「應用武術中國新體操」今更名「科學化的國術」。改進武術,意在普及,一般學校社會咸可採用練習,謂為健身法可;謂為延生術亦無不可,造福人羣,實非淺鮮,武術前途,有曙光矣!謹為序。
中華民國十年四月蔡倔哉
Our nation’s martial arts have never been outclassed, and this is because they are imbued with philosophical principles. Without fully mastering an art, it is truly difficult to understand it thoroughly. As systems later diverged into styles, authentic teachings were lost. This is on one hand because practitioners who misused their skills were expelled from society, and on the other hand because practitioners who had an incomplete knowledge of the art did not have a thorough understanding of how it worked and so were not able to pass on the true teachings. This is truly a pity.
  My fellow student Wu Zhiqing of She County [in Anhui] has studied martial arts for more than ten years. In teaching and training, his tireless love of learning has earned him great respect from people. In 1919, Wu gathered together his comrades to establish the Chinese Martial Arts Association in the southern part of Shanghai. After not even a year had gone by, membership had already risen to more than a thousand people.
  Having garnered such deep regard from society, he in return has drawn from his learning to write a book which he originally titled Using Martial Arts to Make China’s New Calisthenics, the title now changed to Scientific Martial Arts. He wishes to make martial arts easier to popularize, something that can be practiced in ordinary schools. These arts can also be thought of as both a method of fitness and a means of longevity, and so the benefit this would bring to people would by no means be insignificant. Because this gives us real hope for the future of martial arts, I sincerely write this preface.
  - Cai Juezai, April, 1921

凡例
GENERAL COMMENTS

一本書以普及體育為主旨,故取材極簡,期合實用而便練習,編者曾實驗於上海女靑年會體育師範民立中學江蘇省立第二師範上海縣立一高養正潮惠和安第二師範附屬育材等學校,及江蘇省教育會體育研究會曁中華武術會等處,已獲良好效果。
– The purpose of this book is to popularize physical education, and therefore I have selected material that is extremely straightforward and which is both practical and easy to practice. I have experimented with this material in the Shanghai YWCA Teacher-Training School, the Establish-the-People High School, the Jiangsu 2nd Teacher-Training School, Shanghai County 1st College, Municipal Uniformed Elementary School, Spreading Benevolence Elementary School, Harmony & Peace Elementary School, 2nd Teacher-Training Attached School, and the Raising Talent Elementary School, as well as the Jiangsu Educational Association, the Physical Education Research Association, and of course the Chinese Martial Arts Association, and have in each case obtained excellent results.

一本書採取各家國術菁華依據生理學心理學教育學等之原理,變成動作,雖不敢謂完善,然按諸科學尚無背謬,故定名曰科學化的國術。
– For this book, I have selected from the best exercises from various styles of Chinese martial arts and adjusted the movements in accordance with principles of physiology, psychology, and pedagogy. I would not dare to claim that these exercises are perfect, but they are all on the side of the realistic rather than the absurd, which is why I have called the book Scientific Martial Arts.

一本書適合高小及普通師範學校教材;卽個人家庭,能依法練習,可免腦肺胃腸等病,而入於健康之域。
– The material in this book is suitable for use in high schools and teacher-training schools. People in individual households can also use it to practice, and thereby become free of ailments of the brain, lungs, intestines, and so on, and enter into a state of better health.

一本書除詳細說明外,附以銅板製成各種姿勢圖;俾學者按圖練習,一目暸然,無困難扞格之弊。
– Beyond the detailed explanations, there are also photos of each posture in order for you to more clearly understand how to practice these exercises, free from any frustrating confusion.

一本書分上中下三編:以第一部為上編,第二第三部為中編,以第四部為下編,除上編先行付梓外,中下三編正在實驗中,一得圓滿效果,當續出版,
– The plan is to divide this material into four parts over three volumes, part one in the first, parts two and three in the second, and part four in the third. Apart from this first volume being ready to go to the printers, the later volumes still need work. Once I am fully satisfied with the results, they will then be published. [The later volumes were apparently never produced, perhaps indicating that Wu had ended up unsatisfied with them after all, or possibly the interruption of such work due to his several years of military service during the 1920s drained the momentum for this particular project. Whatever the case, part one was considered important enough on its own to be republished in 1930.]

緒論
INTRODUCTION

人類進化,有天演之公式:合則生存;否則敗亡耳。我中華立國四千餘年,其間他國之滅國亡種者,不知凡幾;而我國卒未至於淪胥者,要必有足以自存之道焉,自存之道何在?蓋一則以文化之燦爛,一則以武事之發揚,而近者文化方有日新之機,武事則如江河日下;至可慨已!志靑不揣譾陋,前創辦中華武術會於滬上。藉謀集合同志,研究國粹,以期保存與發展焉。尤有感者,今昔時勢不同,現為文化進步,科學劇戰時代,故國術一道,脫不以科學方法,從而改進,勢難邀社會之信用,必致完全失傳,而國運亦將受其影響矣。茲將國術與生理心理教育等之關係,分述如下:
Mankind developed according to the laws of evolution. Conforming to those laws brought survival and defying those laws brought death. Our Chinese nation was founded more than four thousand years ago. Within that time, so many nations have perished, their people vanquished, that I cannot even place a number to it. But our nation has not disappeared because we have had sufficient means of self-preservation. And what are these means? The magnificence of our culture and the development of our military. But alas, in modern times our culture has been affected by so many new inventions and our military has slipped into constant decline.
  Despite my shallow abilities, I founded the Chinese Martial Arts Association in Shanghai in order to gather my comrades and do research into our cultural essence, hoping to preserve these arts and develop them further. I strongly feel that our modern situation is not the same as it was in earlier times. We are now in an era of cultural progress and scientific competition. Martial arts training has failed to make use of a scientific approach and yet can be greatly improved by it. Although it may be difficult to convince society of this, the outcome could otherwise be that these arts will end up being lost altogether, and that would have a terrible effect on the future of our nation.
  I will now touch upon how physiology, psychology, and pedagogy are relevant to martial arts, addressing each of these things below:

(一)國術與生理之關係
1. The Relationship Between Martial Arts & Physiology:

人皆欲享幸福者,天性然也。然一切幸福,皆本於身體生活之健全,凡人不求幸福則已;苟欲求之,不可不依據生理學,力圖身體生活之健全,明矣,語云:「戶樞不蠧;流水不腐」;人生於世,自當及時運動,運動之於人身,其重要與衣食住等,衣食住一日不可少,而運動亦一日不可缺也。蓋人生職業之興敗,當視精神與體力之何如為比例差,而精神之所以能充分,體力之所以能健强者;皆由鍛鍊而得,故吾人一日內,除經營職業外,當有一定之時間,修養其身體與精神;以為職業上之補助,且於經濟上亦有極大關係,蓋體力强健,精神充足,旣無疾病之苦痛,又無醫藥之消費;職業昌隆,經濟裕如,誠為人生無上之幸福也已。
Everyone seeks happiness. This is only natural. But every kind of happiness is rooted in the health of the body. If you do not seek happiness, then never mind. But if you do seek it, it is entirely dependent on physiology, and so clearly it is a matter of striving for physical health. A saying goes [from Master Lü’s Spring & Autumn Annals, book 3, chapter 2]: “Running water never goes stale and a door that gets used does not get rusty hinges.” One’s life naturally requires exercise. Exercising the body is just as important as being clothed and fed. One cannot go without clothes and food for a single day, and one also cannot go without exercise for a single day.
  To be successful in one’s career equally requires a good attitude and physical stamina. Both a full spirit and a strong body will be obtained through exercise. Therefore within a given day, beyond just going to work, there has to be time set aside to cultivate body and spirit. This will not only make you even better at performing your job, it will thereby also have a huge effect on your financial situation. This is because with a healthy body and full spirit, you will not suffer from any illness, and thus you will not need to buy any medicines. Therefore you will prosper at work and save money at home. Surely there is no higher happiness in life.

(二)國術與心理之關係
2. The Relationship Between Martial Arts & Psychology:

武術者,體育上之一種實用運動也。蓋運動之事,如祇有學理之價値,而無應用之價値,對於心理上,朝於斯,夕於斯,漸致厭倦不樂,必難得美滿之效果,又豈非一大缺憾乎?故國術除求衞生外,尚有防禦危侮之意,存乎其中,卽如體操中之足球籃球等運動,亦另有一種競勝心理,使人不厭反復練習,以達所爭目的而後已也,編者歷年教授體操,為欲防學者厭倦之心,每次必變動教材,色色翻新;非然者,卽不能使人增加興趣,樂於學習也。若教之以國術,亦有不熟不止之勢,其所以不厭倦者,以其能達他種應用之目的;天下惟有實用者,為能得人心理上之欣羨,此其關係視僅求衞生者為何如乎?是故國術運動為一種實用之體育,亦卽一種實用之心理也。
Martial arts are a very practical form of physical exercise. If an exercise only has value in principle and not in reality, your attitude toward it with each passing day and night will change, gradually finding it to be tedious and uninteresting, and it will be difficult to get any enjoyment out of it. Is this not an enormous flaw? Beyond bringing health, martial arts are also intended for self-defense. Sports such as soccer or basketball have a competitive mentality, which causes people to never tire of repetitive practice because they are working toward winning games.
  Throughout my years of experience of teaching exercise, I have tried to find ways to prevent students from getting bored, and so every time I teach a lesson I make adjustments to the material, bringing some variety, keeping it fresh. If I do not do this, I cannot get the students to increase their interest and find pleasure in what they are learning. In the case of teaching martial arts, the training has a quality of never being finished. The reason it does not become boring is because it is working toward a goal. When something has real-world application, it is easy for people to admire it. Would people feel this way if it was only for health? Therefore martial arts are a practical form of physical education and appeals to our sense of wanting things to be useful.

(三)國術與教育之關係
3. The Relationship Between Martial Arts & Pedagogy:

吾人吸收智識,必得有腦力,精神,體力三者,然三者之中,而尤以體力為要;蓋精神腦力,悉由鍛鍊而得也,人類以共同為生活,智識單簡,尚可謀生;體力不健,自絕生存之道也,故鍛鍊體軀,實為教育上之大助。夫國術以拳術為主,拳術為我國獨有之國技,運動平均,少長咸宜,非其他之體操法可同日語也。旣能鍛鍊體軀,又能活潑精神;且合實用,小則防身,大則保國,為個人團體之保障,戰鬭時短兵相接,非熟於斯道者,決難取勝。故武術所以練習手眼身步法,運用心身之聯合,發揮個性之本能,養成耐勞判斷注意有恆諸德性,增進記憶力,助長其天良之義勇,負互助之責任,為教育上之重要關鍵,為人類生活上之必修科學。
To absorb knowledge, we need to have three things: intelligence, spirit, and health. But among these three things, health is the most important. Spirit and intelligence can thereafter be obtained through training. Human beings make a living as a group, and so even a simple level of knowledge is enough to make a living [because gaps in knowledge are compensated for by others in the group specializing in and carrying out other necessary tasks]. But if you do not keep your body healthy, you are cutting yourself off from this means of surviving [by being unable to serve a useful role that contributes to the group]. Therefore training the body is of the greatest help in teaching students.
  Our martial arts emphasize boxing arts. Our boxing arts are our nation’s special skill. They exercise the whole body evenly and are thus suitable for young and old alike. No other methods of exercise deserve to spoken of in the same breath. These arts can train your body and liven your spirit. They also have a dual function: on the small scale, they can defend the body, and on the large scale, they can protect the nation. They serve to safeguard both the individual and the group. To engage in close-quarter combat without skill in these arts would make victory very hard to achieve.
  Martial arts therefore train methods of hand, eye, body, and step. They work both mind and body in tandem, and develop one’s natural instincts. They cultivate the qualities of hard work, determination, focus, and perseverance, as well as enhance memory and help build one’s sense of morality and duty. All of these qualities are keys to education and are things that human beings need to learn in order to survive.

志靑不敏,謹就上述數種關係,本吾國固有之國粹及數載施教實驗所得,編成「應用武術中國新體操」今復與△△商榷改良修正,更名曰「科學化的國術」,所謂科學化的國術者,卽以科學方法,改進國術,使合乎生理心理,教育諸原則,以期切合於實用,而易普及之謂也。凡分四部,合之則成一套國粹之武術;析之則為實用之手法;因之則為出奇制勝之技能,變之則為活潑優美一種舞蹈之動作;若更和以音樂,則心身修養;裨益不尠,惟謬誤之處,在所不免;尚祈海內同志,進而教之。
I am not highly intelligent, but I have written the above explanations with sincerity. Based on our nation’s innate cultural essence and what I have discovered through the course of teaching it for several years, I have written Using Martial Arts to Make China’s New Calisthenics, but after some discussion, I have decided to change it to Scientific Martial Arts, which instead means to use scientific methods to improve our martial arts, to get them to better conform to principles of physiology, psychology, and pedagogy in hopes of making them more practical and easier to popularize.
  This material is to be divided into four parts: [part 1] a combined set of martial arts exercises [the subject of this book], [part 2] an analysis of the functions of the hand techniques, [part 3] explanations for using these skills to ingeniously defeat opponents, [part 4] adjusting the exercises into a more lively and graceful dance-like series of movements by the addition of using musical instruments to create a metronome effect for them, thereby cultivating both mind and body simultaneously. [Parts 2–4 unfortunately exist in concept only. We can speculate that the reasons for this might have been that the first part was probably all that was needed to popularize these exercises among educational institutions, that parts two and three might have been of interest only to martial enthusiasts, and part four was perhaps unnecessarily eclectic.] The benefits of these exercises will not be meager, but inevitably I have made some errors. I hope my comrades throughout the nation will come forward and instruct me.

科學化的國術
SCIENTIFIC MARTIAL ARTS

第一部
PART ONE

第一節 四肢運動(兼有腰部之動作)
Section 1: AN EXERCISE FOR THE FOUR LIMBS (which also works the waist area)

種類
Type of exercise:
行進四肢與轉體之動作。
This is a method of advancing involving movements of all of the limbs and turning around.
術名
Name of the technique:
閃轉用掌循行進退。
SUDDENLY TURNING AROUND WIELDING PALMS WHILE ADVANCING & RETREATING
實用要訣
Keys to the exercise:
要旨係練習手眼身步法。為前後受敵衝前閃後掩護之基礎。由衝打掛護步隨身進。可以脫險謂之閃。由閃而欲制勝於人。必須復轉而實用打劈之術。轉則務將全身掩護。旋轉神速。始能盡閃轉之妙。此為脫險出奇制勝。相機因應之要法也。
The main idea is to train methods of hand, eye, body, and step. This is basically a scenario of dealing with opponents attacking in front and behind, of striking at the one in front of you and then dodging around behind the other. After striking to one [photo 2], carry upward and use a covering step to advance toward the other [photos 3–5], and then you will be able to dodge around the danger presented by him [photo 6]. Once you are dodging, if you want to take control and subdue this opponent, you must then turn around and attack him with a chop [photos 7 & 8]. When turning, you have to shield your whole body by turning very quickly, and thus you will be dodging more effectively. This is an example of avoiding danger and defeating an opponent with an unexpected maneuver, a crucial principle in dealing with such situations.

實習動作
Practice method:
左式預備圖
Preparation posture on the left side:
立正抱肘式。眼平視。胸挺起。腰直。腿倂。兩腳約距離六十度。兩拳置於腰間。兩肘向後。如上圖。
Stand at attention with your elbows wrapped back, your gaze level. Your chest is sticking out, your torso upright. Your legs are together, your feet spread to make a sixty degree angle. Your fists are placed at your waist, your elbows pointing behind. See photo 1.1a:

一、左拳變掌。由腰間向上經額前往右肩前下按至右腋。眼平視如第一圖。
1. Your left fist becomes a palm, rises from your waist, passes in front of your forehead, goes in front of your right shoulder, and pushes down until in front of your right armpit. Your gaze is level. See photo 1.1b:

二、是時右拳卽變掌。由右腋下經左掌上穿出。向右伸直。手指向上。五指倂齊。掌邊向右。左掌貼右肩。掌心向內。掌形似柳葉。名曰柳葉掌。眼視右掌。身體順勢稍右轉。同時卽伸左腿。右膝曲為九十度。全身重量坐於右腿上。如第二圖。
2. Then your right fist becomes a palm and goes from your right armpit, threading out over your left palm, and extending to the right, the fingers pointing upward, fingers together, the palm edge facing to the right, your left palm near your right shoulder with the center of the hand facing inward. Each palm is making a shape like a willow leaf, and thus it is called a “willow leaf” palm. Your gaze is toward your right palm. Your torso goes along with the movement by turning slightly to the right and your left leg extends [to the left], your right knee bending to make a ninety degree angle, the weight sitting onto your right leg. See photo 1.2:

三、左掌由右肩向左伸直。指端向下。掌背近左腿。身稍左轉。眼視左掌。如第三圖。
3. Your left palm goes from your right shoulder and extends to the left, the fingers pointing downward, the back of the palm near your left leg, as your torso slightly turns to the left. Your gaze is toward your left palm. See photo 1.3:

四、是時左掌沿腿上挑。卽彎左腿伸右腿。左腰亦卽同時伸縮。身體順勢稍左轉。左掌指端與鼻齊。右掌指端與頭頂齊。兩肘內扣。眼視左掌。兩臂形似扁擔。名曰扁擔式柳葉掌。如第四圖。
4. Your left palm passes along your [left] leg and carries upward as your left leg bends and your right leg straightens, the left side of your waist stretching, and your torso goes along with the movement by turning slightly to the left. Your left fingertips are at nose level, your right fingertips at headtop level, and your elbows are covering inward. Your gaze is toward your left palm. Your arms look as though they are carrying a shoulder pole, and thus this posture is described as “carrying a pole with willow-leaf palms”. See photo 1.4:

五、左掌上衝。右掌下掛。同時右腿隨右臂前上一步。身體順右腿猛閃向前。右腳趾點地成丁式。眼平視。如第五圖。
5. Your left palm thrusts upward as your right palm hangs downward. At the same time, your right leg goes along with your right arm by stepping forward, your body correspondingly going suddenly forward, your right toes touching the ground, making a T-shaped stance. Your gaze is level. See photo 1.5:

六、同時身體由左後轉。是時右腳再向前一大步。右腿下彎。左腳伸直。身體順右腿閃向左。同時左掌後劈。右掌前挑。眼視左掌。如第六圖。
6. Then your torso turns to the left rear as your right foot takes a large step forward, the leg bending, your left leg straightening, your torso lining up with your right leg as you dodge your left side away. At the same time, your left palm chops to the rear, your right palm carrying in front. Your gaze is toward your left palm. See photo 1.6:

七、是時身體左轉。腹部內收。左腳收囘半步。與右腿倂齊。成左虛式。同時右臂內轉。眼平視。如第七圖。
7. Then your body turns to the left, your belly drawing back, as your left foot withdraws a half step [your right pivoting inward] for the thigh to pull in next to your right thigh, making a left empty stance, and your right arm at the same time arcs inward. Your gaze is level. See photo 1.7:

八、左腳向右腳後方。退後一大步。右腳下彎。左腳伸直。成右弓式。同時左掌下掛。復上挑。右掌上衝。復下劈。兩臂成弧形。眼視右掌。如第八圖。
8. Then your left foot retreats a large step behind your right foot, your right leg bending, your left leg straightening, making a right bow stance. At the same time, your left palm hangs down and then carries upward as your right palm thrusts up and then chops down, your arms making a curved shape. Your gaze is toward your right palm. See photo 1.8:

停立正。成抱肘式。
Then finish by standing at attention [withdrawing your right foot] and making the wrapped-elbows position.
右式預備圖
Preparation posture on the right side:
立正抱肘式。眼平視。胸挺起。腰直。腿倂。兩腳約距離六十度。兩拳置於腰間。兩肘向後。如上圖。
Stand at attention with your elbows wrapped back, your gaze level. Your chest is sticking out, your torso upright. Your legs are together, your feet spread to make a sixty degree angle. Your fists are placed at your waist, your elbows pointing behind. See photo 1.9a:

一、右拳變掌。由腰間向上經額前往右肩前下按至左腋。眼平視。如第一圖。
1. Your right fist becomes a palm, rises from your waist, passes in front of your forehead, goes in front of your right [left] shoulder, and pushes down until in front of your left armpit. Your gaze is level. See photo 1.9b:

二、是時左拳卽變掌。由左腋下經右掌上穿出。向左伸直。手指向上。五指倂齊。掌邊向左。右掌貼左肩。掌心向內。掌形似柳葉。名曰柳葉掌。眼視左掌。身體順勢稍左轉。同時卽伸右腿。左膝曲為九十度。全身重量坐於右腿上。如第二圖。
2. Then your left fist becomes a palm and goes from your left armpit, threading out over your right palm, and extending to the left, the fingers pointing upward, fingers together, the palm edge facing to the left, your right palm near your left shoulder with the center of the hand facing inward. Each palm is making a shape like a willow leaf, and thus it is called a “willow leaf” palm. Your gaze is toward your left palm. Your torso goes along with the movement by turning slightly to the left and your right leg extends [to the right], your left knee bending to make a ninety degree angle, the weight sitting onto your right [left] leg. See photo 1.10:

三、右掌由左肩向右伸直。指端向下。掌背近腿。身稍右轉。眼視右掌。如第三圖。
3. Your right palm goes from your left shoulder and extends to the right, the fingers pointing downward, the back of the palm near your [right] leg, as your torso slightly turns to the right. Your gaze is toward your right palm. See photo 1.11:

四、是時右掌沿腿上挑。卽彎右腿。伸左腿。右腰亦卽同時伸縮。身體順勢稍右轉。右掌尖與鼻齊。左掌尖與頭頂齊。兩肘內扣。眼視右掌。兩臂形似扁擔。名曰扁擔式柳葉掌。如第四圖。
4. Your right palm passes along your [right] leg and carries upward as your right leg bends and your left leg straightens, the right side of your waist stretching, and your torso goes along with the movement by turning slightly to the right. Your right fingertips are at nose level, your left fingertips at headtop level, and your elbows are covering inward. Your gaze is toward your right palm. Your arms look as though they are carrying a shoulder pole, and thus this posture is described as “carrying a pole with willow-leaf palms”. See photo 1.12:

五、右掌上衝。左掌下掛。同時左腿隨左臂前上一步。身體順左腿猛閃向前。左腳趾點地成丁式。眼平視。如第五圖。
5. Your right palm thrusts upward as your left palm hangs downward. At the same time, your left leg goes along with your left arm by stepping forward, your body correspondingly going suddenly forward, your left toes touching the ground, making a T-shaped stance. Your gaze is level. See photo 1.13:

六、同時身體由右後轉。是時右腳再向前一大步。左腿下彎。右腳伸直。同時右掌後劈。左掌前挑。眼視右掌。如第六圖。
6. Then your torso turns to the right rear as your right [left] foot takes a large step forward, the leg bending, your right leg straightening. At the same time, your right palm chops to the rear, your left palm carrying in front. Your gaze is toward your right palm. See photo 1.14:

七、是時身體右轉。腹部內收。右腳收囘半步。與左腿倂齊。成右虛式。同時左臂內轉。眼平視。如第七圖。
7. Then your body turns to the right, your belly drawing back, as your right foot withdraws a half step [your left pivoting inward] for the thigh to pull in next to your left thigh, making a right empty stance, and your left arm at the same time arcs inward. Your gaze is level. See photo 1.15:

八、右腳向左腳後方退後一大步。左腳下彎。右腳伸直。成左弓式。同時右掌下掛。後上挑。左掌上衝。復下劈。兩臂成弧形。眼視左掌。如第八圖。
8. Then your right foot retreats a large step behind your left foot, your left leg bending, your right leg straightening, making a left bow stance. At the same time, your right palm hangs down and then carries upward as your left palm thrusts up and then chops down, your arms making a curved shape. Your gaze is toward your left palm. See photo 1.16 [again followed by withdrawing into standing at attention and making the wrapped-elbows position]:

生理上之關係
Physiological aspect:
閃轉用掌。循行進退。此為四肢之動作。又為腰部之運動。蓋此節縮小柔軟。活動四肢。流通氣血。舒展筋骨。為開始運動之準備。亦為講究生理之主要部分。並將各主要肌肉功用分析如左。
To suddenly turn around wielding palms while advancing and retreating is an exercise for the four limbs which also works the waist area. This exercise reduces excessive softness, livens the limbs, circulates energy and blood and stretches the sinews and bones. To get ready for the exercise, attention should be given to the major parts of the body that are involved in it. Listed below are the main muscles that are being worked:

一、以下各肌肉之名詞。悉據科學名詞審查會所定者。閃轉用掌。卽兩臂左右展開。及臂向內轉與向外轉等動作。
(Used below are names for specific muscles based on the verified proper scientific terminology.) 1. Suddenly turning around wielding palms involves the arms spreading to the left and right, as well as the arms making arcs inward and outward.
甲、兩臂左右展開。主要肌肉。
A. Spreading the arms to the left and right works these muscles:
岡上 三角 斜方三分之一等肌肉
supraspinatus, deltoids, lower trapezius.
乙、臂向內轉。主要肌肉。
B. Arcing the arm inward works these muscles:
背闊 大圓 胸大 三角 肩胛下等肌肉
latissimus dorsi, teres major, pectoralis major, deltoids, subscapularis.
丙、臂向外轉。主要肌肉。
C. Arcing the arm outward works these muscles:
岡下 三角 小圓等肌肉
infraspinatus, deltoids, teres minor.

二、循行進退。卽大腿內轉與外轉。並屈小腿與伸小腿等動作。
2. Advancing and retreating involves rotating the upper leg inward and outward, as well as bending and straightening the lower leg.
甲、大腿內轉。主要肌肉。
A. Turning the upper leg inward works these muscles:
闊筋模張 臀小 臀中 腰大等肌肉
tensor fasciae latae, gluteus minimus, gluteus medius, psoas major.
乙、大腿外轉。主要肌肉。
B. Turning the upper leg outward works these muscles:
外閉孔 臂大 縫匠 恥骨等肌肉
external obturator muscle, gluteus maximus, sartorius, pectineus.
丙、屈小腿。主要肌肉。
C. Bending the lower leg works these muscles:
縫匠 股薄 半腱 半模 股二頭 腓腸淺 蹠膕等肌肉
sartorius, gracilis, semitendinosus, semimembranosus, biceps femoris, gastrocnemius, popliteus.
丁、伸小腿。主要肌肉。
D. Extending the lower leg works these muscles:
股四頭 股直 股內側 股外側 股中間等肌肉
Quadriceps (rectus femoris, vastus lateralis, vastus medialis, vastus intermedius).

心理上之關係
Psychological aspect:
此節動作。行如撥草之蛇。轉如閃電之急。一舉一動。儼有勁敵在前。得心應手之妙。
In this exercise, the stepping is like a snake slithering through the grass and the turning is like a flash of lightning. With every movement, imagine there is a formidable opponent in front of you, and then you will perform it skillfully.

教育上之關係
Pedagogical aspect:
此節專練習手眼身法步。運用神經之連合。發揮奮鬭之本能。養成耐勞自信判斷敏捷勇敢自主有恆諸德性。此為武術之技能。而深合教育上之訓練。
This exercise focuses on training methods of hand, eye, body, and step. It trains coordination of the nervous system and thus develops one’s fighting instincts. It cultivates the virtuous qualities of hard work, self-confidence, judgment, quick wits, courage, initiative, and perseverance. These skills in martial arts strongly conform to skills needed in teaching.

第二節 改正運動(兼有軀幹之動作)
Section 2: AN EXERCISE OF REALIGNING (which also works the torso)

種類
Type of exercise:
俯仰伸縮。上呼下吸。
Lean forward and back, extending and retracting, exhaling when the hands are above, inhaling when the hands are below.
術名
Name of the technique:
十字佩虹鴛鴦手。
CROSSED HANDS SPREADING A RAINBOW, MANDARIN DUCK HANDS
實用要訣
Keys to the exercise:
來無形。去無蹤。(卽鈎摟挂打巧妙之形容詞也)按此六字巧妙之法。不在文字上空求。在學者熟練精通。當得此中三昧。
“Enter invisibly and then exit without a trace.” (This describes the actions of hooking and dragging, carrying and striking.) These words refer to a level of skillfulness and are not some just airy poetry. Once you have mastered these movements, you will awaken to the meaning.

實習動作
Practice method:
預備
Preparation posture:
開立抱肘。兩腳距離等於兩肩闊。眼前視。腰直。挺胸。
From standing at attention with your elbows wrapped back, your feet spread apart to shoulder width. Your gaze is forward, your torso is upright, and your chest is sticking out.

一、上體半面向左轉。兩腿下彎成騎馬式。同時兩拳變掌。交叉成十字形。上體稍向右轉。兩掌至膝前。卽變鈎向左右摟開。而膝前須前後相對。眼視前。挺胸。直腰。兩鈎與肩成垂直線。兩手交叉成十字形。名曰十字手。如第一第二圖。
1. Your upper body turns halfway to the left and your legs bend to make a horse-riding stance [left empty stance] as your fists become palms and cross to make an X shape in front of your knees, your upper body turning to the right [left]. Then your palms become hooks and drag apart to the sides to be in line with your knees. Your gaze is forward. Your chest is sticking out and your torso is upright. Your arms from shoulders to hands are hanging down and making vertical lines. Because of your palms crossing, this technique is called CROSSED HANDS. See photos 2.1 and 2.2:

二、兩鈎變掌。交叉成十字形。兩肘近肋。上體卽向後仰。右腳稍伸。左腳稍彎。同時兩掌向左右分開。肘仍貼於肋。掌心向前。手指稍曲分開。形似荷葉。名曰荷葉掌。兩掌位於兩肩之前。腹部收緊。胸挺起。眼前視。名曰十字佩虹式。如第三第四圖。
2. Your hooks become palms and cross to make an X shape, your elbows staying near your ribs, your upper body leaning back, your right [left] leg slightly straightening, left leg [right] slightly bending. Then your palms spread apart to the sides, your elbows still staying near your ribs, the centers of the hands facing forward, fingers slightly bent and spread apart. The shape is like lotus leaves, and so they are called “lotus leaf” palms. Your palms are positioned in front of your shoulders. Your belly is drawn back and your chest is sticking out. Your gaze is forward. This technique is called CROSSED HANDS SPREADING A RAINBOW. See photos 2.3 and 2.4:

三、鬆肩。兩掌向前直撲。同時左腿伸直。成右弓左箭步。或馬式亦可。惟兩臂平行。指尖與肩尖成半弧形。手指向上分開。用掌底使勁。形似嬰兒撲乳。名曰嬰兒撲乳式。
3. Your shoulders loosen and your palms pounce forward as your left [foot steps out and your right] leg straightens, making a stance of right [left] leg a bow, left [right] leg an arrow, though it can also done in a horse-riding stance. Your arms are level and form semicircles from shoulder to fingertips, the fingers pointing upward and spread apart, power expressing at the heels of the palms. This technique looks like an infant reaching out to be breast-fed, and so it is called INFANT GRABS AT ITS MOTHER’S BREASTS. See photo 2.5:

循環連續六次。再換左向後轉。練左式。如第五圖。
Perform this series of movements six times, then turn around to the left [right] and practice it on the other side.

四、兩掌交叉成十字形。上體向前俯。兩掌至膝前。卽變鈎向左右摟開。同時左膝仍曲成騎馬式。眼前視。挺胸。直腰。兩手交叉成十字名曰十字手。與第一二圖同。圖從略。
4. [Your feet pivot to the left (right) to point their toes behind you,] your legs bending to again make a horse-riding stance [right empty stance] as your palms cross to make an X shape in front of your knees, your upper body leaning forward [while turning around to the right], Then your palms become hooks and drag apart to the sides. Your gaze is forward. Your chest is sticking out and your torso is upright. Because of your palms crossing, this technique is called CROSSED HANDS. This is the same technique as in photos 2.1 and 2.2. See photos 2.6 and 2.7:

五、兩足尖向左後轉。左膝稍曲。右膝彎。同時兩鈎變掌。交叉成十字形。兩肘貼肋。上體向後仰。交叉。兩掌卽向左右分開。肘仍貼於肋。掌心向前。五指稍曲。分開。形似荷葉。名曰荷葉掌。兩掌位於兩肩之前。腹部收緊。胸挺起。眼前視。名曰十字佩虹式。如第六第七圖。
Your hooks become palms and cross to make an X shape, your elbows staying near your ribs, your upper body leaning back. Then your palms spread apart to the sides, your elbows still staying near your ribs, the centers of the hands facing forward, fingers slightly bent and spread apart. The shape is like lotus leaves, and so they are called “lotus leaf” palms. Your palms are positioned in front of your shoulders. Your belly is drawn back and your chest is sticking out. Your gaze is forward. This technique is called CROSSED HANDS SPREADING A RAINBOW. See photos 2.6 and 2.7 [2.8 and 2.9]:

六、鬆肩。兩掌向前直撲。同時右腿伸直左弓右箭步。或馬式亦可。兩臂平行。指尖與肩尖成半弧形。手指向上分開。五指用掌底使勁。形似嬰兒撲乳。名曰嬰兒撲乳式。如第八圖。
6. Your shoulders loosen and your palms pounce forward as your right [foot steps out and your left] leg straightens, making a stance of left [right] leg a bow, right [left] leg an arrow, though it can also done in a horse-riding stance. Your arms are level and form semicircles from shoulder to fingertips, the fingers pointing upward and spread apart, power expressing at the heels of the palms. This technique looks like an infant reaching out to be breast-fed, and so it is called INFANT GRABS AT ITS MOTHER’S BREASTS. See photo 2.8 [2.10]:

再演十字手。如第九第十圖。
Then perform CROSSED HANDS again, the same as in photos 9 and 10 [6 and 7].

如是循環連續演習六次。再向右後轉。演習六次。又向左。卽名曰左右連環式。
Perform this series of movements six times, then turn around and practice it on the other side another six times. This whole exercise is called CONTINUOUS MOVEMENT ON BOTH SIDES.

生理上之關係
Physiological aspect:
上呼下吸者。所以擴張胸廓。增進肺量。使橫膈膜充分運動。前俯後仰者。所以伸縮腹壁筋。以助長消化力。且兼有改正動作。使胸襟舒暢。脊柱無偏倚之弊。並將各主要肌肉功用分析如左。
Exhale when your hands are above. Inhale when your hands are below. This expands your rib cage, increasing lung capacity, and exercising your diaphragm. Leaning forward and back causes your abdominal wall to stretch and contract, encouraging digestion. This also serves as a corrective moment, the expanding of your chest discouraging your spine from curving into improper angles. Listed below are the main muscles that are being worked:

一、下俯上仰。卽脊梁前彎。與伸脊梁之動作。
1. Leaning forward and back involves the spine curving and straightening.
甲、脊梁前彎。主要肌肉。
A. The spine bending forward works these muscles:
項最長 頭最長 前斜角 腰直 腸內斜 腹外斜 腹橫等肌肉
longissimus cervicis, longissimus capitis, scalenus anterior, dorsal erector muscle, internal oblique muscle, external oblique muscle, transverse abdominis.
乙、伸脊梁。主要肌肉。
B. The spine straightening works these muscles:
下後鋸 頭夾 項半棘 背半棘 斜方等肌肉
serratus posterior inferior, splenius capitis, semispinalis cervicis, semispinalis thoracis, trapezius.

二、轉體向左右。卽轉脊梁之動作。
2. Your body turning to the left and right involves rotation in the spine.
甲、轉脊梁。主要肌肉。
A. Rotation in the spine works these muscles:
腹內斜 腹外斜 項半棘 背半棘等肌肉
internal oblique muscle, external oblique muscle, semispinalis cervicis, semispinalis thoracis.

心理上之關係
Psychological aspect:
此節動作。形態甚為美觀。並簡而易學。無論少長咸宜。練熟後。手法身法步法。自有生龍活虎之態。如此人安得不樂於學習乎。
This exercise looks very artistic, and yet it is also simple and easy to learn, as well as suitable for young and old alike. Once you have practiced it to a level of skillfulness, these actions of your hands, body, and feet will be full of vitality. This being the case, how could anyone not enjoy learning it?

教育上之關係
Pedagogical aspect:
此節運動。非但鍛練體魄。活潑精神。而且有衞身抗敵之術。可為個人團體之保障。此頗合於現代教育上之需要。
This exercise not only toughens the body and livens the spirit, it is also useful for defending oneself against opponents. Since it can help ensure the safety of individuals within the group, it thus strongly aligns with the requirements of what should be taught in the modern age.

第三節 上肢運動
Section 3: AN EXERCISE FOR THE UPPER BODY

種類
Type of exercise:
原地運用掌肘指腕之伸縮。
Standing in place, you work the flexibility of your palms, elbows, fingers, and wrists.
術名
Name of the technique:
五花礮
EXPLOSIVE FLOURISHES
實用要訣
Keys to the exercise:
此節有伸捰刁拏鎖扣勾掛擒打。分合連環。各動作。各盡其手法之妙用。為應敵還敵之巧具。其出奇制勝之能。洵為武術之要訣也。
This exercise contains the elements of reaching out to catch, drawing in to seize, locking up, hanging aside, and capturing to strike. The movements are a continuous extending and withdrawing, and are entirely a matter of using subtle hand techniques to skillfully defend against and counterattack an opponent. The ability to defeat your opponent by using unexpected maneuvers is a hallmark of martial arts.

實習動作
Practice method:
預備
Preparation posture:
由立正抱肘。兩腳離開。與兩肩成垂直線。兩腿下彎。為四十五度。成半馬式。
From standing at attention, elbows wrapped back, your feet spread apart to shoulder width and your legs bend forty-five degrees to make a half horse-riding stance.

一、右拳變掌。向前斜下伸。指端向前。掌緣切地。掌底對小腹。距離約七寸許。臂膊伸直。肘內扣。腰直。胸挺。眼前視。出掌如切物。名曰切掌。如第一圖。
1. Your right fist becomes a palm and extends forward and diagonally downward, the fingertips pointing forward, the edge of the palm slicing toward the ground, the heel of the palm in line with and about three quarters of a foot away from your lower abdomen, with the arm straightening but the elbow covering inward. Your torso is upright, your chest sticking out, your gaze forward. The palm goes out as though it is slicing through an object, and thus it is called a “slicing palm”. See photo 3.1:

二、右掌上掛。同時大膊貼肋。屈肘內扣。手掌上掛。翻手腕向後。手心向前。掌卽右刁。虎口向上。手背近肩。約四寸許。先掛後刁。名曰掛掌。如第二圖。
2. Your right palm carries upward, the upper arm staying near your ribs, the elbow bending and covering inward. As the palm goes upward, the wrist turns outward so the center of the hand is facing forward. The palm then hooks to the right, the tiger’s mouth facing upward, the back of the hand a few inches away from the shoulder. First carry, then hook. This technique is called a “hanging palm”. See photo 3.2:

三、右掌斜向前伸。運掌底擊敵。右肩順手勢鬆開。腰稍轉向左。指端對鼻尖。手肘內扣。掌似荷葉。名曰荷葉掌。如第三圖。
3. Your right hand extends diagonally forward, sending the heel of the palm to strike an opponent. Your right shoulder loosens and extends along with the movement of the hand, and your torso slightly turns to the left. The fingertips are at nose level, the elbow covering inward. The palm is making a lotus-leaf shape, and thus is called a “lotus-leaf palm”. See photo 3.3:

四、右臂由前下斫。至大腿後方。同時掌卽變鈎。摟至臀後。手肘稍曲。上挑下摟。均須迅速活潑。而有精神。眼前平視。胸挺。腰直。以上四動。均半馬式。左拳仍抱肘。式如第四圖。
4. Your right arm then chops downward and goes past your [right] thigh, the palm becoming a hook, after which it will drag back until behind the buttock, the elbow slightly bent. The actions of carrying upward and then dragging downward have to be quick, lively, and spirited. Your gaze is forward and level. Your chest is sticking out and your torso is upright. These four movements are all performed in a half horse-riding stance. Your left fist remains in a wrapped-elbow position. See photo 3.4:

五、左拳變掌。向前斜下伸。指端向前。掌緣切地。掌底對小腹。距離約七寸許。臂膊伸直。肘內扣。腰直。胸挺。眼前視。出掌如切物。名曰切掌。如第五圖。
5. [Your right hand returns to your waist, then] your left fist becomes a palm and extends forward and diagonally downward, the fingertips pointing forward, the edge of the palm slicing toward the ground, the heel of the palm in line with and about three quarters of a foot away from your lower abdomen, with the arm straightening but the elbow covering inward. Your torso is upright, your chest sticking out, your gaze forward. The palm goes out as though it is slicing through an object, and thus it is called a “slicing palm”. See photo 3.5:

六、左掌上挑。同時大膊貼肋。屈肘內扣。手掌上掛。翻手腕向後。手心向前。掌卽左刁。虎口向上。手背近肩。約四寸許。先掛後刁。名曰掛掌。如第六圖。
6. Your left palm carries upward, the upper arm staying near your ribs, the elbow bending and covering inward. As the palm goes upward, the wrist turns outward so the center of the hand is facing forward. The palm then hooks to the left, the tiger’s mouth facing upward, the back of the hand a few inches away from the shoulder. First carry, then hook. This technique is called a “hanging palm”. See photo 3.6:

七、左掌斜向前伸。運掌底擊敵。左肩順手勢鬆開。腰稍轉向右。指對鼻尖。手肘內扣。掌似荷棄。名曰荷葉掌。如第七圖。
7. Your left hand extends diagonally forward, sending the heel of the palm to strike an opponent. Your left shoulder loosens and extends along with the movement of the hand, and your torso slightly turns to the right. The fingertips are at nose level, the elbow covering inward. The palm is making a lotus-leaf shape, and thus is called a “lotus-leaf palm”. See photo 3.7:

八、左臂由前下斫。至大腿後方。同時掌卽變鈎。摟至臀後。手腕稍曲。上挑下摟。均須迅速活潑。而有精神。眼前平視。胸挺腰直。以上四動。均半馬式。右手仍鈎於臀後。如第八圖。
8. Your left arm then chops downward and goes past your [left] thigh, the palm becoming a hook, after which it will drag back until behind the buttock, the elbow slightly bent. The actions of carrying upward and then dragging downward have to be quick, lively, and spirited. Your gaze is forward and level. Your chest is sticking out and your torso is upright. These four movements are all performed in a half horse-riding stance. Your right hand remains as a hook behind you [remains in a wrapped-elbow position according to the photos]. See photo 3.8:

生理上之關係
Physiological aspect:
此節練習兩臂大小諸肌與腱。各盡其伸縮翻轉之能。實為運動上肢之良好動作也。此項動作之複雜。按運動生理上之次序。『應列在運動次序三分之一』故列於第三節。當為腦系部間接之運動。誠為生理衞生必要之動作也。並將各主要肌肉功用分析如左。
This exercise trains the major and minor arm muscles. Its actions of extending, withdrawing, and arcing are indeed excellent movements for working the upper arm. This rather complex series of movements is in accordance with the method of arranging exercises for the best physiological effects: “A third of the exercises should be complex.” Therefore this exercise is placed third out of the first three. Due to its complexity, it is indirectly an exercise for the brain. It is also an indispensable exercise for promoting health. Listed below are the main muscles that are being worked:

掌肘指腕之伸縮卽髆骨向前。髆骨向下。髆骨向後。屈小臂與伸小臂。及掌向外。各動作。
These actions of extending and withdrawing the palm, elbow, fingers, and wrist involve a variety of movements including the shoulder blade moving forward, downward, and back, the forearm bending and extending, and the palm going outward.
甲、髆骨向前。主要肌肉。
A. The shoulder blade going forward works these muscles:
前鋸 胸大 胸小等肌肉
serratus anterior, pectoralis major, pectoralis minor.
乙、髆骨向下。主要肌肉。
B. The shoulder blade going downward works these muscles:
斜方 胸小 背闊 胸大等肌肉
trapezius, pectoralis minor, latissimus dorsi, pectoralis major.
丙、髆骨向後。主要肌肉。
C. The shoulder blade going back works these muscles:
腰方 背闊 大菱等肌肉
quadratus lumborum, latissimus dorsi, rhomboid major.
丁、屈小臂。主要肌肉。
D. Bending the forearm works these muscles:
肱雙頭 肱前 旋前圓 手與指之伸 手之伸等肌肉
biceps brachii, brachialis, pronator teres, hand & finger extensors.
戊、伸小臂。主要肌肉。
E. Extending the forearm works these muscles:
肱三頭 肱前 手與指之伸等肌肉
triceps brachii, brachialis, hand & finger extensors.
己、掌內外。主要肌肉。
F. The palm going outward works these muscles:
掌長 撓側伸腕短 尺側伸腕等肌肉
palmaris longus, extensor carpi radialis brevis, extensor carpi ulnaris.

心理上之關係
Psychological aspect:
此節動作。練習眼明手快之技能。凡動作之遲速。以思索力之敏鈍為轉移。練習此種運動。當有比較之姓質。而生競爭之心。則收心理上之功用大矣。
This exercise trains guickness of eyes and hands. Whatever the speed of your movement, focus on switching nimbly from one movement to another. Practicing this kind of exercise will help to build a more ambitious nature and develop a more competitive mindset, and therefore it is a very useful psychological tool.

教育上之關係
Pedagogical aspect:
此節運動。練習心靈手敏。以之為學。必日進於高明之域。以之接物。有隨機應變之方。對於智育關係綦重。
This exercise trains agility of both mind and hand. To become educated, you have to constantly increase your range of qualifications, because to deal with the world, you have to have the means to adapt to situations. Such an exercise is thus extremely helpful for one’s intellectual development.

第四節 腰胯運動(兼全身之動作)
Section 4: AN EXERCISE FOR THE WAIST & HIPS (as well as the whole body)

種類
Type of exercise:
原地彈機活步。左右閃轉踹踢。
This is a method of staying where you are and performing a “snapping step”, as well as suddenly turning to the side and sending out a kick.
術名
Name of the technique:
雙稱十字腿。
CROSS-SHAPED KICK
實用要訣
Keys to the exercise:
武術致勝。多在進退。且進退之要。必須腰腿一致。以拳腳之動作為轉移。所行之動作貴速。以不誤拳腳致勝之機為合法。此節拳腳。務須全體一致。其發拳腳須有抨簧之靈。始收致勝之効也。
Victory through martial arts often comes down to advancing and retreating. To advance and retreat effectively, your waist and hips have to function as a single unit. The movements of your fists and feet should be quick but should not be mis-timed. For this exercise, your hands and feet have to work together. Your punches and kicks must shoot out with the nimbleness of mechanical springs, and then you will be able to achieve victory.

實習動作
Practice method:
預備
Preparation posture:
立正抱肘。式面向南。
Stand at attention, elbows wrapped back, facing toward the south.
一、左腳向東北出一步。同時兩拳變掌。由西南上角成陰陽和合掌。猛向東北拏扎。左手拏至腰間。仍抱肘式。右掌變拳。西南上角往下打。手心向上。右大膊貼於肋。成左弓式。面向東。此種動作。名曰前拏手。與後扎手。如第一圖。
1. Your left foot takes a step out to the northeast as your fists become palms, which come together as prayer palms pointing toward the southwest and then fiercely jabbing toward the northeast. Then your left hand [again becoming a fist] pulls back to your waist, returning to the wrapped-elbow position, as your right palm becomes a fist and strikes toward the southwest, the center of the hand facing upward, the upper arm staying near your ribs. You are in a left bow stance, your torso facing toward the east. This technique is called GRABBING & JABBING. See photo 4.1:

二、左拳由腰間直向東北上角衝出。與鼻平。同時右扎。拳收囘。置於腰間。仍抱肘式。此動作名曰應面拳。如第二圖。
2. Your left fist thrusts upward to the northeast until at nose level, your right fist at the same time withdrawing to be placed at your waist, again making a wrapped-elbow position. This movement is called “punch to the face”. See photo 4.2:

三、右拳向東斜下衝出。與心房齊。同時左拳上挑。面向東。腰直。胸挺。眼前視。此動作名曰黑虎搗心式。如第三圖。
3. Your right fist thrusts out diagonally toward the east to be at solar plexus level as your left fist carries upward. You are facing toward the east. Your torso is upright and your chest is sticking out. Your gaze is forward. This technique is called BLACK TIGER GOES FOR THE HEART. See photo 4.3:

四、雙拳變掌。左掌向上。與右掌交叉。在頂前。手心向外。同時轉體向左閃。眼前視。挺胸。直腰。此動作名曰過頂式。如第四圖。
4. Your fists become palms and cross in front of your headtop [chest according to the photo], left palm on top, the palms facing outward, as your torso turns to the left. Your gaze is forward. Your chest is sticking out and your torso is upright. This technique is called PASSING OVER THE HEADTOP. See photo 4.4:

五、兩掌左右下落。合於懷前相切。卽提起右腿。腰直。胸挺。眼平視。此動作名曰懷中抱月式。如第五圖。
5. Your palms lower to the sides and then come together in front of your chest as your right leg lifts. Your torso is upright and your chest is sticking out. Your gaze is level. This technique is called EMBRACING THE MOON. See photo 4.5:

六、雙掌向東西撐開。左掌與頭頂平。右掌與肩平。同時右腿向東排出。腿伸直。成九十度直角。全身向左閃。眼視東。名曰雙稱腿。如第六圖。
6. Your palms brace away toward the east and west, your left palm at headtop level, your right palm at shoulder level, as your right leg kicks out to the east, your legs straightening and making a ninety degree angle, your torso turning to the left. Your gaze is toward the east. This technique is called KICK WITH BOTH PALMS BRACING. See photo 4.6 [missing from the book, but we can fill the gap by reversing photo 4.12]:

七、承上右腿排出。右腳尚未落地時。左腿彈起向後退。右腳卽落於左腳所立之部位。此謂為彈機活步。同時右掌卽向東南拏至腰間。成抱肘式。左掌卽握拳向東下扎。左膊貼肋。手心向上。如第七圖。
7. Continuing from your right leg kicking out, before your right foot has fully come down, your left foot suddenly retreats, and then your right foot comes down next to your left foot. This action is called a “snapping step”. At the same time, your right hand [again becoming a fist] pulls back toward the southeast to make the wrapped-elbow position at your waist, and then your left palm grasps into a fist and strikes toward the east, the upper arm staying near your ribs, the center of the hand facing upward. See photo 4.7:

八、右拳由腰間直向東北上角衝出。與鼻平。同時左扎。拳收囘置於腰間。仍抱肘式。此動作名曰應面拳。如第八圖。
8. Your right fist thrusts upward to the northeast until at nose level, your left fist at the same time withdrawing to be placed at your waist, again making a wrapped-elbow position. This movement is called “punch to the face”. See photo 4.8:

九、左拳向東斜下衝出。與心房齊。同時右拳上挑。面向東。腰直。胸挺。眼視前。此動作名曰黑虎搗心式。如第九圖。
9. Your left fist thrusts out diagonally toward the east to be at solar plexus level as your right fist carries upward. You are facing to the east. Your torso is upright and your chest is sticking out. Your gaze is forward. This technique is called BLACK TIGER GOES FOR THE HEART. See photo 4.9:

十、雙拳變掌。右掌向上。與左掌交叉在頂前。手心向外。同時轉體向右閃。眼視前。挺胸。直腰。此動作名曰過頂式。如第十圖。
10. Your fists become palms and cross in front of your headtop [chest according to the photo], right palm on top, the palms facing outward, as your torso turns to the right. Your gaze is forward. Your chest is sticking out and your torso is upright. This technique is called PASSING OVER THE HEADTOP. See photo 4.10:

十一、兩掌左右下落。合於懷前相切。卽提起右腿。腰直。挺胸。眼平視。此動作名曰懷中抱月式。如第十一圖。
11. Your palms lower to the sides and then come together in front of your chest as your right [left] leg lifts. Your torso is upright and your chest is sticking out. Your gaze is level. This technique is called EMBRACING THE MOON. See photo 4.11:

十二、雙掌向東西撐開。右掌與頭頂平。左掌與肩平。同時左腿向東排出。腿伸直。成九十度直角。向右閃。眼視東。名曰雙稱腿。如第十二圖。
12. Your palms brace away toward the east and west, your right palm at headtop level, your left palm at shoulder level, as your left leg kicks out to the east, your legs straightening and making a ninety degree angle, your torso turning to the right. Your gaze is toward the east. This technique is called KICK WITH BOTH PALMS BRACING. See photo 4.12:

生理上之關係
Physiological aspect:
此節為彈機活步之動作。能振動內臟。激刺腸胃。且能助增消化力。促進血液循環。使各關節之腱增强彈力性。並將各主要肌肉之功用。分析如左。
This exercise involves a “snapping step”, which gives a shake to the internal organs, particularly stimulating the stomach and intestines, thereby aiding digestion. It also promotes better blood circulation and enhances the elasticity of the tendons in the joints. Listed below are the main muscles that are being worked:

一、前後手拏扎。卽兩臂下垂與屈伸小臂之動作。
1. The hands pulling back and jabbing forward involves the arms being pulled down, as well as the forearm bending and extending.
甲、兩臂下垂。主要肌肉。
A. Pulling the arms down works these muscles:
背闊 大圓 斜方下三分之一 胸大等肌肉
latissimus dorsi, teres major, lower trapezius, pectoralis major.
乙、屈小臂。主要肌肉。
B. Bending the forearm works these muscles:
肱二頭 肱前 肱前 前旋圓等肌肉
biceps brachii, brachialis, pronator teres.
兩臂上伸下伸。卽伸小臂。丙、伸小臂。主要肌肉。
C. Extending the forearm works these muscles:
肱三頭 胸大 橈側伸腕短 尺側伸腕等肌肉
triceps brachii, pectoralis major, extensor carpi ulnaris.

提腿舉腿側排。卽大腿前舉。及左右展開之動作。二、左右閃轉踹踢。卽大腿前舉。及左右展開之動作。
2. Suddenly turning and kicking to the side involves the upper leg raising in front and then the leg extending to the side.
甲、大腿前舉。及左右展開。主要肌肉。
A. Raising the upper leg and extending to the side works these muscles:
梨狀 內閉 孖上孖下 縫匠 闊筋膜張等肌肉。
piriformis, internal obturator, superior gemellus, inferior gemellus, sartorius, tensor fasciae latae.

心理上與教育上之關係。
Psychological & pedagogical aspects:
俱見前節。
Same as in the previous exercise.

第五節 快速運動(兼有彈機跳躍之動作)
Section 5: AN EXERCISE FOR QUICKNESS (as well as explosiveness and jumping)
種類
Type of exercise:
彈機躍進快速之運動。
This is an exercise for developing ability for explosiveness and jumping.
術名
Name of the technique:
百步花。
TRAMPLING FLOWERS
實用祕法
Keys to the exercise:
要旨。練習身體輕捷。手腳靈便。為運用閃轉進步之妙法。及登高涉遠諸動作。有絕大之關係。常練能使手腳敏捷。進能取。退能守。行如飛。快如風。制勝於十步之外。此為武術之要法也。
The main idea is to train agility in the body and nimbleness in the hands and feet. It is an excellent exercise for improving dodging, turning, and advancing, and most of all for moving over large distances. Constant practice of it will make your hands and feet quick, so that you will be able to attack when you advance and defend when you retreat. Move as though flying, fast as wind. You should be able to rush in and subdue an opponent even when he is more than ten paces away. This is an important martial arts principle.

實習方法
Practice method:
預備動作
Preparation posture:
立正抱肘
Stand at attention, elbows wrapped back:
眼前視。挺胸。直腰。兩腳踵靠攏。腳尖分開。距離九十度。兩掌握拳。曲兩肘為九十度。兩拳置於腰間。肘尖向後。
Your gaze is forward, chest sticking out, your torso upright. Your heels are together, toes spread apart to make a ninety degree angle. Your hands grasp into fists and your arms bend into ninety degree angles as your fists are placed at your waist, elbows pointing behind you.

一、撩左掌。出左步。
1. Raise your left palm, stepping out with your left foot:
左拳變掌。伸直。由胯外向上撩。肘尖裏扣。成柳葉掌。同時左腳向前出一步。腳尖點地。腿曲成一百八十度四分之一。右拳仍抱肘。右腿稍曲。欲得姿勢準確。則掌尖與肩尖齊。成半弧形。鼻尖與肩尖對齊。肘與膝蓋腳尖對齊。前肘與後肘對齊。前膝與後膝對齊。名曰五齊。形似月斧。名曰闊斧式。如第一圖。
Your left fist becomes a palm and stands straight, raising upward from your [left] hip as a willow-leaf palm, the elbow covering inward. At the same time, your left foot steps forward, the toes touching down, the leg bent to a forty-five degree angle, your right fist remaining in a wrapped-elbow position, your right leg slightly bent. To get the posture to be precise, the fingertips of your palm should be at shoulder level, the arm making a half circle, and the shoulder should be pulled forward enough to be in line with your nose, the elbow should be in line with the knee and toes [of your front leg], your front elbow should be in line with your rear elbow, and your front knee should be in line with your rear knee. These are called the “five alignments”. The shape [of your front arm] is like a crescent-moon ax, or what is called a “broad ax”. See photo 5.1:

二、伸右腿。
2. Extend your right leg:
提右腿。曲膝。至九十度。向前伸。足尖斜向上。足踵用勁。向前排出。同時卽落地。名曰排腳式。如第二圖。
Your right leg lifts with the knee bent to make a ninety degree angle, then extends forward with the toes pointing diagonally upward, pushing out forward with power expressing at the heel, then immediately comes down. This technique is called a “crushing kick”. See photo 5.2:

三、右腳落於左腳前。卽提左腿。曲為九十度。腳尖向上。腳底稍向前。同時左掌由前向後。囘至腰間下擺。右拳變掌。伸直。由右胯外上撩。成柳葉掌。指尖對肩尖。肘尖裏扣。指尖至肩尖成半弧形。肘尖對腳尖。前膝對後膝。惟右腳落地時。用彈力。臨空搶步而進。卽向前搶一步。名曰右搶步腿。如第三圖。
3. Your right foot comes down in front of your left foot and then your left leg lifts forward, the knee bending to make a ninety degree angle, the toes lifted so that the sole of the foot is facing slightly forward. At the same time, your left palm swings downward and to the rear, withdrawing to your waist, while your right fist becomes a palm and stands straight, raising upward from your right hip as a willow-leaf palm, the fingertips at shoulder level, the elbow covering inward. The arm is making a half circle, the elbow is in line with your [left] toes, and your front knee is in a line with your rear knee [hip]. When your left foot comes down, it does so with a snapping energy, advancing as though walking on a tightrope, going forward with a “scraping step” [which is another way of describing the crushing kick]. This technique is called a “right scraping kick”. See photo 5.3:

四、左腳卽向前落地。卽提右腿向前曲膝。為九十度。足尖向上。腳底稍向前。同時右臂由前向後。囘至腰間。下擺。左掌上挑。成柳葉掌。指尖對肩尖。肘尖裏扣。惟左腳落下。用彈力卽向前搶一步。名曰左搶步腿。如此循環。搶腿演進。但前進時。兩臂前後擺動。順勢臨空搶步而進。左右連續運動。欲停則左腳搶步時。停於右腳上。卽向成闊斧式。如第四圖。
4. Your left foot comes down in front and then your left leg lifts forward, the knee bending to make a ninety degree angle, the toes lifted so that the sole of the foot is facing slightly forward. At the same time, your right arm swings downward and to the rear, withdrawing to your waist, while your left palm carries upward as a willow-leaf palm, the fingertips at shoulder level, the elbow covering inward. When your left foot comes down, it does so with a snapping energy, going forward with a scraping step. This technique is called a “left scraping kick”. Continue in this way over and over, advancing with scraping kicks. While you advance as though walking on a tightrope, your arms swing forward and back. It is a continuous movement on both sides. If you want to stop, then when your left foot goes out with a scraping step, your right leg steps forward [into an empty stance] and you halt in the broad-ax posture [on the other side]. See photo 5.4:

生理上之關係
Physiological aspect:
左右交互。提腿搶步前進。所以使胯骨關節敏活舒暢。幷能振盪腸胃。旣助消化。亦可免便祕等症。並將各主要肌肉之功用。分析如左。
Both sides are worked equally as you lift each leg and advance with scraping steps, which livens the hips joints. This exercise can also stimulate the intestines and stomach, thereby aiding digestion, and can prevent constipation. Listed below are the main muscles that are being worked:

一、手前挑後擺。卽臂前舉與下垂之動作。
1. For the movements of the hand carrying forward and hanging down to swing behind:
甲、兩臂前舉。主要肌肉。
A. Raising the arm forward works these muscles:
三角 喙突肱 胸大 肱二頭等肌肉
deltoids, coracobrachialis, pectoralis major, biceps brachii.
乙、兩臂下垂。主要肌肉。
B. Lowering the arm behind works these muscles:
背闊 大圓 斜方下三分之一 胸大等肌肉 舉大腿 伸小腿
latissimus dorsi, teres major, lower trapezius, pectoralis major.

二、舉大腿與伸小腿之動作。
2. For the movements of raising the upper leg and extending the lower leg:
甲、舉大腿。主要肌肉。
A. Raising the upper leg works these muscles:
縫匠 闊筋膜張 恥骨 A股直等肌肉
sartorius, tensor fasciae latae, pectineus, rectus femoris.
乙、伸小腿。主要肌肉。
B. Extending the lower leg works these muscles:
股四頭 A股直 B股外 C股內 D股中等肌肉
Quadriceps (rectus femoris, vastus lateralis, vastus medialis, vastus intermedius).

心理上之關係
Psychological aspect:
此節練習手腳輕捷靈敏。為自然跳躍之動作。當為少長咸宜之運動也。而於此種動作。又便易於學習。興趣亦濃。並能增人勇敢進取之心。關乎心理上。確有莫大之關係也。
This exercise trains nimbleness in the hands and feet, and promotes naturalness in jumping. Suitable for young and old alike, this is an exercise that is easy to learn and very enjoyable. It can also help increase a person’s fortitude, and so it is of great psychological relevance.

教育上之關係
Pedagogical aspect:
此節動作。可以發展敏速判斷決斷勇敢膽量啓發機警各優良之本性。而於教育上最有關係。要在教者之善用利導耳。
This exercise can develop quick wits, judgment, decisiveness, courage, boldness, awareness, and vigilance. These are excellent qualities to have, are especially relevant when it comes to teaching, and are indeed necessary for teachers to be able give good guidance.

第六節 舒緩運動(卽調和之動作)
Section 6: AN EXERCISE FOR SLOWNESS (i.e. a harmonizing movement)
種類
Type of exercise:
原地運用指腕及臂之擺動。幷轉動軀幹及腿之伸縮。
Standing in one place, your fingers, wrists, and forearms sway back and forth. The torso also twists and the legs are correspondingly extending and bending along with it.
術名
Name of the technique:
翻江搗海。
DIVERTING THE RIVER AND TURNING BACK THE SEA
實用要訣
Keys to the exercise:
要旨。係練吞吐連環之法。為擒拏鎖扣之用。欲研究武術之眞諦。以此為入門之要訣也。
The gist of the exercise is the practice of continuously inhaling and exhaling during these actions of seizing and locking. If you want to study the true essence of martial arts, this [coordinating of breath with movement] is a fundamental principle.

實習方法
Practice method:
預備
Preparation posture:
由立正抱肘。兩腳離開。與兩肩成垂直線。兩腿下彎為四十五度。成半馬式。
From standing at attention, elbows wrapped back, your feet spread apart to shoulder width and your legs bend forty-five degrees to make a half horse-riding stance.
一、兩拳變掌。向左側邏。右掌心向上。左掌心向下。同時軀幹順手勢向左轉。眼視兩掌。左臂平曲於胸前。右肘近貼於肋。小臂平屈於心前。兩手大拇指與四指成鉗形。兩手心上下相應。距離約七八寸許。如第一圖。
1. Your fists become palms and swing out to the left with your right palm facing upward and left palm facing downward, your torso going along with your hands by twisting to the left. Your gaze is toward your hands. Your left arm is horizontal and bent, the forearm in front of your chest, and your right elbow is near your [right] ribs, the arm bent, the forearm horizontal in front of your solar plexus. The thumb and fingers of each hand are making a slight claw shape. The palms are facing each other above and below, about three quarters of a foot apart. See photo 6.1:

二、兩掌卽翻轉。而臂則上下互換位置。右臂平曲於胸前。左肘近貼於肋。小臂平屈於心前。兩手手指仍成鉗形。兩手心仍上下相應。距離約七八寸許。
2. Then your palms rotate as your arms switch their positions above and below. Your right arm is horizontal and bent, the forearm in front of your chest, and your left elbow is near your [left] ribs, the arm bent, the forearm horizontal in front of your solar plexus. The thumb and fingers of each hand are making a slight claw shape. The palms facing each other above and below, about three quarters of a foot apart. See photo 6.2:

兩手擒拏平行。緩緩向右。軀幹順勢亦右轉。如第二第三圖。
Your hands in this seizing position move slowly across to the right, your torso going along with your hands by twisting to the right. See photo 6.3:

三、兩掌再翻轉。而臂則又上下互換位置。右肘貼肋。小臂平屈於心前。左臂平曲於胸前。兩手手指仍成鉗形。卽緩緩向左。
3. Then your palms rotate as your arms switch their positions above and below. Your right elbow is near your [right] ribs, the arm bent, the forearm horizontal in front of your solar plexus, and your left arm is horizontal and bent, the forearm in front of your chest. The thumb and fingers of each hand are making a slight claw shape. See photo 6.4 (after which your hands will again go slowly across to the left):

如斯反復來去兩手手指如撕綿狀。則得手指功夫更大。而兩臂不可拘緊使勁。腰隨身擺。自如來往。吞淸吐濁。自有妙處生。如第四圖。
Repeatedly go back and forth in this way, with your fingers seeming to be ripping silk, which will increase skill in the fingers, but your arms should not be exerting strength. With your waist going along with the movement, your torso swaying, you will go back and forth smoothly. By drawing in clean air [inhaling as the hands rotate] and expelling stale air [exhaling as the hands go across], you will get the knack of it.

生理上之關係
Physiological aspect:
此節為調劑快速運動。使心臟漸漸平復。為生理上必然之次序。
This is an exercise of regulating speed of movement, causing the heartbeat to gradually calm down, which will lead to further physiological benefits.

心理上之關係(同前節)
Psychological aspect:
此節動作。從容以和。優游自得。有心曠神怡之妙。
Same as in the previous exercise [in that it increases fortitude]. This movement is also calm and harmonious, leisurely and contented, wonderfully carefree.

教育上之關係
Pedagogical aspect:
此節動作。可以養成鎭定。涵養。堅忍。謀略。耐勞。自主等。各優良之德性。為教育上所必需。亦視教者之善導耳。
This movement can cultivate calmness and restraint, perseverance and planning, hard work and initiative, all good qualities essential for teaching, and which show the teacher to be a good leader.

第七節 呼吸運動
Section 7: A BREATHING EXERCISE

種類
Type of exercise:
兩臂翻轉伸縮。助肺部吸淸吐濁。為呼吸之運動。
The arms rotate back and forth, and extend and retract, to assist the lungs at drawing in clean air and expelling stale air. This is an exercise of inhaling and exhaling.
術名
Name of the technique:
一元復始。
RETURNING TO A PRIMORDIAL STATE
實用要訣
Keys to the exercise:
此節要旨。為練習活動兩臂筋骨。使肺擴張。運氣貫於丹田。為國術練氣之要訣也。
The main idea in this exercise is to use the working of the arm muscles to get the lungs to expand and energy to course through to the elixir field. This is a key to energy training in martial arts. [This may seem contrary to the usual idea of relaxing muscles to let energy flow through.]

實習方法
Practice method:
預備
Preparation posture:
開立抱肘式。(開立卽兩腳分開。距離大小。則與兩肩成垂直線為度。)
From standing at attention with your elbows wrapped back, your feet spread apart to about shoulder width.
一、由開立抱肘。兩臂向左右撐開為一呼氣。而兩手心須向左右。指端向上。十指乍開。則脈絡伸張。而氣血則易貫通。然後兩臂緩緩向後翻轉。至掌心向上。為一度吸氣。兩臂復又緩緩向前翻轉。為一度呼氣。如斯反復六次。惟運動兩臂。務必用力。向左右撐開。則收效更大。證之尺骨橈骨肩胛骨諸經絡肌肉非常酸楚。可以知運用筋骨之功矣。如第一圖。
1. From the feet-apart wrapped-elbows position, your arms brace away to the sides as you exhale, your palms facing to the sides, fingertips pointing upward, fingers spread open. This stretches the arteries and veins so that energy and blood can more easily flow through. Then your arms slowly rotate toward the rear until the palms are facing upward as you inhale. Then your arms slowly rotate forward again [to return to the position of bracing outward with the palms facing to the sides] as you exhale. Do these rotations back and forth six times. For the movement of the arms, you should be exerting strength as you brace away to the sides in order to receive greater benefit. You will be able to tell from the sense of soreness in the energy channels and muscles around the ulna, radius, and scapula that this is also an exercise for developing strength. See photo 7.1:

二、承上兩臂左右撐開。緩緩向內收縮於兩肋旁。然後復向下緩緩垂直。指端向前。又緩曲十指為拳。如是則告終止矣。如第二圖。
2. Continuing from the previous posture, your arms slowly retract inward to be beside your ribs [as you inhale], then slowly go downward to hang straight with the fingers pointing forward [as you exhale], the fingers then slowly curling in to form fists [returning to the wrapped-elbows position]. This concludes the exercises. See photo 7.2:

生理上之關係
Physiological aspect:
此節動作。有呼出炭氣吸收養氣之功用。人生之需養氣。較飲食為尤要。故呼吸關於生理甚大。
The function of this exercise is purely to exhale carbon dioxide and inhale oxygen. Human beings require oxygen even more than food and water, therefore breathing has enormous physiological relevance.

心理上之關係
Psychological aspect:
孟子曰。氣體之充也。故久練呼吸。則氣充滿乎四體。而有心雄萬夫之槪。
Mengzi said [Mengzi, chapter 2a]: “[The mind leads the energy,] the energy fills the body.” After long-term breath training, energy fills the four limbs and you will have the heart of ten-thousand heroes.

教育上之關係
Pedagogical aspect:
研究學業。全在精神貫注。然氣不足。則精神從何而有。所以練習呼吸。氣足神完。而後可藥學者萎靡不振之病。
Studying is an entirely mental occupation. But if you have no energy, how would your mind be able to function? Through training the breath, your energy will be sufficient to get your mind fully switched on, and thus you will be able to cure lethargy for learning.

– – –

[This book was later reprinted by 大東書局 Great East Bookstore in Nov, 1930, expanded by an additional preface and a postscript, which are included below.]

再版科學化的國術弁言
PREFACE TO THE REPRINTED EDITION

三民主義之下革命軍統一華夏奠都南京百廢俱興昔軍閥政府素不注意之武術今迺一躍而為黨國要人所重視中央設立國術館各省市設分館上年首都舉行國術考試盛極一時今秋浙省亦有全國國術遊藝會之舉追憶八年前海上舉行第五屆遠東運動大會參加會員為中日菲三國健兒運動種類大都為田徑賽和球類而我國固有之體育則付缺如靑竊以為恥每思有以發揚之得一吐氣於碧眼黃髯之前是年適舉為江蘇省教育會體育研究會會長並主持中華武術會於是職責所在義無反顧遂挺身向遠東運動會籌備處交涉請求加入以表我國固有之武術以振我國尚武之精神該會主幹為美人葛雷博士初不允所請且謂貴國武術旣乏教育之價値又不合生理之需要如果加入恐為會衆所不取靑聞之不服再三與之辯難始由麥克樂先生從中斡旋且力贊靑所研究之武術切合科學並請予以機會參加始獲葛雷允許及後省教育會開會議決又推靑主持選擇教材加入大會表演並由縣教育局通令各校預備研究靑卽將固有之武術按教育之原理依生理之次序心理之要求技術之實用編輯而成按程授課不期月而成效大著茲將當時預會及大會時各界贊許之評論分別摘錄於后
The Revolutionary Army, fighting for “The Three Principles of the People”, unified China, established Nanjing as the capital, and carried out countless tasks that had been neglected. When the warlords governed, they typically paid no attention to martial arts. But now that we have made the leap to a proper party-run state, those in power take martial arts seriously. They have established the Central Martial Arts Institute, as well as branch schools in every province and city. Last year, the National Martial Arts Tournament was held in the capital and caused quite a sensation. This autumn, another national martial arts competition will be held in Zhejiang.
  I remember that eight years ago the 5th Far Eastern Championship Games was held in Shanghai [May 30–June 4, 1921]. The participating athletes were from the three nations of China, Japan, and the Philippines [as well as a few competitors representing India, Thailand, and Malaysia]. The events were mostly track-and-field games and ball sports, in which it became clear that our nation was abysmally lacking in physical education. I found the performance of our countrymen humiliating, and every time I thought about it, I sighed that I was getting more inspiration from the example set by blond blue-eyed Westerners.
  This year, I was chosen to be the president of the Jiangsu Educational Association’s Physical Education Research Department, while also presiding over the Chinese Martial Arts Association. I therefore felt it my duty to seek justice for our previous failure, and so I stood tall and walked into the preparatory office for the next Far Eastern Championship Games, where I asked for permission to give an exhibition at the Games to demonstrate our nation’s native martial arts and rouse our nation’s martial spirit.
  I met with an American, Dr. John Henry Gray, who at first would not give his consent, saying: “Your country’s martial arts lack any value as real physical education. They don’t even conform to physiological requirements. If you gave a demo, I doubt the participants and spectators would want to watch it.” I heard this but refused to accept it and debated the point with him over and over. Then his colleague C. H. McCloy came in and acted as an intermediary. He strongly commended my research on making our martial arts more scientific and asked that I be given the opportunity to put on the demonstration. It was this that gained Gray’s consent.
  The Educational Association later held a meeting in which they formally passed a resolution on the matter, and they also promoted me to presiding over the selecting of teaching materials. We held our exhibition at the Games. And then the County Bureau of Education circulated orders to all the schools to get ready to study martial arts! I subsequently presented our native martial arts to them in accordance with pedagogical principles, physiological processes, psychological requirements, and practical skills. I also wrote this book based on the lessons I had given, which quickly became considered a very relevant work.
  Included below are some extracts of laudatory discussion from various circles about our exhibition at the Games:

錄上海新申時各報 民十年五月七日
From the Shanghai Evening News (May 7, 1921):

中華武術會總幹事吳志靑君近編中國式新體操昨晚七時在一品香宴請各界商榷到者如遠東運動會主幹葛雷博士體育家郝伯陽武術家馬子貞紳商王一亭葉惠鈞教育家蘇穎傑沈恩孚報界邵力子戈公振謝介子謝强公女體育家郝映靑柏克菲女士等中西人士四十餘人席間由吳君表演並說明十餘年研究體育武術近按生理上心理上教育上之程序著成「中國新體操」今改「科學化的國術」曾親赴各高小學校教練已略睹成效現加入遠東運動會先於明日(八日)午後一時召集各學校學生假公共體育場會操第茲事體大深恐隕越貽譏因此敬請諸君光臨面請指示尚望諸君不吝賜教並加以提倡云云次葛雷博士演說體育之成功歸根於技術熱心精神三者今吳君蓋得之矣鄙人甚欲知中國人究合於何種體操云次邵力子先生演說深贊吳君以科學整理中國學問郝伯陽先生演說保存國粹從技術公開始柏克菲女士演說中國婦女必須與男女同一健康吳君在本校教授多年此種教材不但限於男子女子亦適用云九時許攝影而散
Secretary-general of the Chinese Martial Arts Association, Wu Zhiqing, author of China’s New Calisthenics, last night at 7pm gave a banquet to entertain a wide range of guests, such as: Dr. John Henry Gray, who is the organizer of the Far Eastern Championship Games, the physical education expert Hao Boyang, martial arts master Ma Zizhen, businessmen Wang Yiting and Ye Huijun, educators Su Yingjie and Shen Enfu, journalists Shao Lizi, Ge Gongzhen, Xie Jiezi, and Xie Qianggong, women’s physical education experts Ms. Hao Yingqing and Ms. Bai Kefei, and so on, altogether more than forty people, both Chinese and Westerners.
  In the middle of the banquet, Wu gave a demonstration. He then also discussed his more than ten years of research into martial arts and his physiology-psychology-pedagogy approach. He has recently changed the title of his book China’s New Calisthenics to Scientific Martial Arts. He has also personally taught this material in all levels of schools, which has visibly produced results, and it is now going to be a feature in the Far Eastern Championship Games.
  Starting at 1pm tomorrow (May 8), students from various schools will gather together at the public sports stadium to drill the exercises as a large group. Wu is taking this matter very seriously, fearing that if such an exhibition fails, Chinese martial arts may face a future of ridicule. Because of this, he has invited all of these distinguished guests to come and personally view a rehearsal demonstration of the exhibition for the Games. He nevertheless hopes that everyone present will not hold back any criticism in addition to merely giving encouragement.
  Dr. Gray then delivered a speech about the triumphs of physical education, and said: “It all comes down to the three qualities of skill, dedication, and spirit. Wu is the embodiment all of these things. I very much look forward to seeing how the education of the Chinese people is preparing them for all types of athletic activity.”
  Then Shao Lizi gave a speech strongly commending Wu’s use of science to improve this field of Chinese learning, Hao Boyang gave a speech about preserving China’s cultural essence by spreading such skills to the public, and Ms. Bai Kefei gave a speech about how Chinese women need to be just as healthy as the men, saying: “Wu has been teaching in our school for several years now that this material is not only for men, but should also be learned by women.”
  At about 9pm, some photographs were taken and then the guests went home.

摘錄上海新申時各報評論 民十年五月九日
A couple of reviews of the event in the Shanghai Evening News (May 9, 1921):

大南門中華路民立中學於昨日午後一時假西門外公共體育場舉行春季運動會中外來賓共約八千餘人由該校校長蘇穎傑君與職教員及學生殷殷招待會中秩序甚佳並有童子軍在場照料會中有參與此次遠東運動會之六小學校縣立一高二師附屬和安養正育材潮惠會操該校教員吳志靑君編著「應用武術中國新體操」今改「科學化的國術」最為引人注目均精美可觀至六時始盡歡而散
[1] Yesterday at 1pm, the Establish-the-People High School, near the South Gate on Cathay Road, took over the public sports stadium just outside the West Gate to hold a special kind of springtime sports meet. There were altogether more than eight thousand people there to see it, both Chinese and foreign. Receiving all these guests were Principal Su Yingjie, the teachers from the school, and the students. The gathering was very organized, maybe because the Boy Scouts were also there to help out.
  The reason for the gathering is that students from six schools (Shanghai County 1st College’s 2nd Teacher-Training Attached School, Harmony & Peace Elementary School, Municipal Uniformed Elementary School, Raising Talent Elementary School, and Spreading Benevolence Elementary School) are getting ready to demonstrate a large-scale drill exercise within this year’s Far Eastern Championship Games.
  Thanks to instructor Wu Zhiqing, who authored Using Martial Arts to Make China’s New Calisthenics, recently re-titled as Scientific Martial Arts, this exhibition of exercise will be a spectacle that is definitely worth seeing. By 6pm, the performing students were finally exhausted trying to get everything perfect for the event and it was time to go home.

參加遠東運動會的體操與疊羅漢節目為萬里長城崑崙山脈十大名山賓塔等及歡呼六項此項運動為中華武術會吳志靑君所編稱為「中國新體操」今改「科學化的國術」今日表演卽為此屆參與遠東運動會之預備也制服一律白色背心短袴黑襪胸前懸徑六七寸國徽一方先是各校學生排列場外導以國旗軍樂入場環行一週然後排一橫隊再分六小隊由教者指示表演每節作完間以歡呼聲浪齊一此次所演僅為第一第七兩節每一節完掌聲雷動其中以崑崙山寶塔二節為尤佳而學生動作活潑參觀者無不嘖嘖稱賞
[2] The exhibition group for the Far Eastern Championship Games has just performed group formations of “The Great Wall”, “Kunlun Mountains”, “Ten Famous Mountains”, “The Pagoda”, and so on, earning them six swells of applause.
  This exercise event is headed by Wu Zhiqing of the Chinese Martial Arts Association, who authored China’s New Calisthenics, lately re-titled Scientific Martial Arts. Their performance today is a rehearsal for the Far Eastern Championship Games. They were all dressed in white tank-tops and shorts, black socks, and each holding the national emblem several inches in front of their chests.
  All the students were first arranged into their positions outside the stadium, then were led into the stadium by national flags and military band music. They made a full circuit of the field then lined up into rows, divided into six teams, and each team performed under the directions of an instructor. With the finish of each part of the demonstration came a surge of cheers.
  On this occasion, only the first and seventh exercises were demonstrated, but they both produced thunderous applause. Among the exercises displayed, the group formations of “Kunlun Mountains” and “The Pagoda” were especially impressive. The movements of the students were very lively and the spectators all hollered their admiration.

遠東運動會會務日報詳記中國武術遊藝盛况
A couple reports on the Chinese Martial Arts Exhibition from the Far Eastern Championship Games Bulletin:

第五次遠東運動大會民十年六月四日午後二時半表演中國武術遊藝評「眞可謂為國增光了」
一、入場 午後二時半中華武術會會員和養正等學校學生約五百人由司令吳志靑君導入場內先環行一週然後列一橫隊前列軍樂高唱國歌音韻悠揚全場肅然
二、服裝 武術會會員全著技擊用特製衣服養正等學校學生全體白帽白背心短袴和黑鞋黑襪手中各執國旗一面背心前面亦各縫國旗一方每一動作時光耀眩色極為悅目
三、節目 所演各種遊藝可分三項(甲)中國新體操因為時間的關係祇演第一部第一和第七兩節(乙)疊羅漢(1)萬里長城(2)崑崙山脈(3)駱駝峯(4)名山(5)寶塔(丙)拳術單演如洪拳六合拳六合棍單刀查槍雙掌入門雙演如三把腰雙頭槍查拳月牙鏟雙劈單刀等甲乙兩項係養正等學校學生表演的丙項係武術會會員表演的
四、歡呼 入場後出場前和表演的時候常有歡呼聲音齊一很能振起他們自身和觀者的精神他們的歡呼共分有六種他們的表演極博中外人士的贊美因為他精神活潑操練的嫺熟和動作的整齊在在可令人稱贊他們在很多外國人的面前將本國國粹盡力表現出來使外人可以知道我國固有武術的眞價値眞可謂「為國增光了」現在東西洋人很重視我國的拳術還望國人要羣起來保存才好呢再吳志靑君所編的中國新體操是參用心理學和教育學生理學作根據的很有採作學校教材的價値也望國人提倡起來啊
同日海上各目報評「眞不愧稱中國新體操」
[1] As part of the 5th Far Eastern Championship Games, the Chinese Martial Arts Exhibition was held at 2:30pm on June 4, 1921 [final day of the Games, apparently serving as a kind of closing ceremony], and was praised thus: “It can truly be said that this brings glory to the nation!”
  1. The Entrance:
  At 2:30pm, the members of the Chinese Martial Arts Association and about five hundred uniformed school students entered the stadium, led by Wu Zhiqing. They first made a full circuit of the space, then lined up into rows and proudly sang the national anthem, a melodious sound that made the entire audience feel a sense of solemnity.
  2. The Uniforms:
  Members of the Martial Arts Association all wore specially made clothes for performing martial arts, but the bodies of the school students were uniformed in this way: white caps, white tank-tops and shorts, black shoes and socks. They each carried in their hands the national flag and wore the flag also as a design sewn onto the front of their shirts. With every movement, there was a dazzling display of color [since the flag at the time was the five-color flag] that was extremely pleasing to the eye.
  3. The Program:
  The exhibition was divided into three parts:
  A. China’s New Calisthenics: In the interest of time, they performed only the first and seventh exercises.
  B. They performed these group formations: 1. “The Great Wall”, 2. “Kunlun Mountains”, 3. “The Camel’s Hump”, 4. “Famous Mountains”, 5. “The Pagoda”.
  C. They performed solo demonstrations of martial art sets, such as: Hong Boxing, Liuhe Boxing, Liuhe Staff, Single Saber, Cha Spear, Double Palms Through the Door, and so on. And two-person sets, such as: Waist-Grappling, Double-Headed Spears, Chaquan, Crescent-Moon Shovels, Double Choppers, Single Sabers, and so on.
  Parts A and B were performed by groups of uniformed school students in unison. Part C was performed individually by members of the Martial Arts Association.
  4. The Applause:
  In the time between the performers entering the stadium and leaving it, there was continuous cheering, which inspired ever greater spirit from the performers and still greater cheers from the spectators, the cheers swelling to a peak six times. The performance was highly praised by both Chinese and foreigners, because everything was done with such lively spirit, skillful execution, and exquisite orderliness of movement.
  The performers stood before a great many foreigners and did their utmost to show the cultural essence of our nation, making those foreigners aware of the value of our nation’s native martial arts. Truly it can be said that “this has brought glory to the nation”. Now people from both the East and the West will take our boxing arts seriously and it is to be hoped that our countrymen will at last rally together to preserve them.
  China’s New Calisthenics, which Wu Zhiqing wrote in accordance with psychology, pedagogy, and physiology, has become highly valued as a textbook in schools. Our countrymen should encourage everyone else to read it too.
  On the very same day, various Shanghai newspapers judged it as “truly worthy of being called ‘China’s New Calisthenics’”.

昨日本埠南市中華武術會發起集合二師附屬縣立一高市立養正和安育材潮惠各小學校操練中國新體操由總教練吳志靑君指揮前導國旗會旗列隊遊行一週然後入場學生襟前各佩國徽一面服裝淸潔步伐整齊咸具活潑之精神其操練之程序
一、唱國歌抑揚頓挫英氣勃勃有不可一世之槪
二、演中國新體操今改「科學化的國術」動作美滿精神充足中外觀者無不同聲贊揚謂「眞不愧中國新體操」是時編者分送說明書內容分生理心理教育與實用要訣及疊羅漢之釋名與圖畫印刷精良受者頗為寶貴
三、歡呼聲音齊一頗能振起觀者和自身之精神
四、表演疊羅漢(甲)萬里長城(乙)崑崙山脈(丙)駱駝峯(丁)名山(戊)寶塔每演一節無不掌聲如雷深得觀衆之贊許體育家及各界之術會之武術刀光劍影虎鬭龍爭對練各種技藝之精妙間不容髮咸歎觀止其間有八十老翁何玉山與于振聲之三把腰楊奉眞吳志靑之對打四路查拳羅叔靑韓凌森之月牙鏟尤其特長倍增精采此次表演足為遠東運動會生色而為武術增光亦不少也
[2] Yesterday at this stadium in the southern part of the city, the Chinese Martial Arts Association sponsored a gathering of schools including Shanghai County 1st College’s 2nd Teacher-Training Attached School, Municipal Uniformed Elementary School, Harmony & Peace Elementary School, Raising Talent Elementary School, and Spreading Benevolence Elementary School to drill “China’s New Calisthenics”. Led by head coach Wu Zhiqing and each carrying the national flag and the banner for the Games, they arranged themselves into lines and entered the stadium. The front of their shirts was adorned with the national emblem, their clothes wore spotlessly clean, they marched in perfect order, and they all possessed a lively spirit. The performed their demonstration in this sequence:
  1. When they sang the national anthem, they filled it with heroic spirit, a rendition better than any of this generation so far.
  2. They then performed “China’s New Calisthenics”, or what is lately called “Scientific Martial Arts”. The movements were harmonious and full of spirit. It was unanimously praised by Chinese and foreign spectators alike declaring it “truly worthy of being called ‘China’s New Calisthenics’”. The author of the material divides the explanations in his book into perspectives from physiology, psychology, pedagogy, and the keys to each exercise.
  3. They also performed a series of group formations which led to the snapping of some spectacular photographs that are sure to be treasured. They performed these group formations: A. “The Great Wall”, B. “Kunlun Mountains”, C. “The Camel’s Hump”, D. “Famous Mountains”, E. “The Pagoda”.
  4. The cheers were a constant sound, which inspired still greater cheers from the spectators and ever greater spirit from the performers. Every part of the performance was met with thunderous applause and received the heartfelt praise of the spectators.
  These experts of physical education and a wide variety of skills also came together to show martial skill in the form of the flashing of sword versus saber, the struggle of dragon versus tiger, a variety of two-person sets so skillfully executed that spectators gasped at how narrowly the performers were missing each other. Among the most impressive were eighty-year old He Yushan & Yu Zhensheng’s demonstration of Waist-Grappling, Yang Fengzhen & Wu Zhiqing’s two-person 4th Set of Chaquan, Luo Shuqing & Han Lingsen’s sparring with Crescent-Moon Shovels, which were all spectacular.
  This exhibition at the Far Eastern Championship Games is very significant indeed and brings enormous prestige to martial arts.

統觀上述可見各界對本編表演之成績咸加推許則本編之價値亦可想而知
民國十八年秋九月吳志靑再誌
It is clear from the writings above that our exhibition achieved great success and received wide appreciation, which indicates that this book also seems to have some value.
  - written by Wu Zhiqing, Sep, 1929


POSTSCRIPT

吾國重文輕武。國術式微久矣。其間有習之者。或為方外僧侶。或屬江湖賣藝。所傳口訣。不偏於玄。卽失之陋。後世不察。反從而變本加厲。學者惑焉。余久欲以科學方法整理之而未見諸事實。今吳志靑先生以所著中國新體操見示。並囑為校閱。余觀其書。係按諸生理心理教育諸原理所編。與余所主張之科學者脗合。可謂國術傑作也。更名科學化的國術。洵無愧。且科學國術者。非推翻吾國固有國術而創造之謂也。如書中言上肢運動。卽少林十八法中朝天直舉排出運掌之意。軀幹運動。卽少林十八法中黑虎伸腰腿力跌蕩之意。快速運動。卽少林中吞吐浮沉迅如風電之意。舒緩運動。卽太極專氣致柔之意。閃轉用掌循行進退。卽八卦中靑龍轉身之意。呼吸運動。卽少林慧猛師所傳呼吸術。與河南派丹田提氣術西江派提桶子勁之意。以及言鴛鴦鯉魚鷂子等名稱者。亦無非華佗氏五禽戲。與少林五拳岳氏十二形之意。是皆本諸吾國固有之國術述而不作也。然則所謂科學化的國術者。惟用科學方法。改良國術。以期合於實用耳。故茲書出。固不可遽謂有强身强種强國之效。而補偏救弊。為國術界大放光明。此則余敢斷言者也。
中華民國十七年十二月廣濟呂光華書於中央國術館
Because our nation has had reverence for literary pursuits and looked down upon martial affairs, our martial arts have long been in decline. Among practitioners, whether they were mystical monks or wandering performers, the instructional poems were originally not very obscure, but then they gradually lost their simplicity [due to pressure to appear more scholarly]. Later generations were not paying attention to this effect and so the process dramatically increased until students are now utterly confused by the teachings that have been passed down.
  I had long hoped for scientific methods to be used to bring these arts back down to earth, but had not yet seen it put into practice until Wu Zhiqing wrote China’s New Calisthenics, which demonstrates exactly this, and he urged me to give it a readthrough. I have since read through his book and have found that his notes on physiological, psychological, and pedagogical principles fit well with the more scientific presentation I have been advocating for, and I therefore feel I can declare it to be a martial arts masterpiece. His changing of the title to Scientific Martial Arts also seems entirely justified.
  Making our martial arts scientific does not mean discarding our nation’s native martial arts and creating new ones in their place. Within this book, there is an exercise for the upper limbs [section 3] which is like the actions of “lifting to the sky” and then “pushing out with the palm” from Shaolin’s Eighteen Techniques; an exercise for the torso [section 2] which is like the actions of “black tiger stretches its back” and “using leg strength to knock down an opponent”, also from the Eighteen Techniques; an exercise for quickness [section 5] which is like the Shaolin principles of “absorb and send back, float and sink” and “be fast as wind and lightning”; a slow exercise [section 6] which implies the Taiji principle [from the Daodejing, chapter 10] of “focus on your breath and achieve softness” [and also resembles Taiji’s “clouding hands” movement]; an exercise of “suddenly turning around wielding palms while advancing and retreating” [section 1], which is similar to the Bagua technique of “blue dragon turns its body”; and a breathing exercise [section 7] that is reminiscent of the breathing arts passed down from Shaolin master Hui Meng, as well as the techniques of rousing energy in the elixir field found in styles in Henan and the exercises of “bucket-lifting power” found in styles in the Xi River area. There are also techniques involving “ducks” [section 2], “carps” [section 6], “hawks” [section 1], and so on, which are the same kind of thing as Hua Tuo’s Five Animal Frolics, Shaolin’s Five-Animal Boxing, or the Yue School’s Twelve Animals.
  These are all based on our nation’s native martial arts rather than creating something from scratch. The act of “making our martial arts more scientific” means using scientific methods to improve our martial arts with the intention of making them more practical. Therefore when this new edition of the book comes out, although it of course will not have the immediate effects of strengthening the body, strengthening the masses, and strengthening the nation, it will nevertheless rectify many errors, and so I dare to predict that the martial arts community will sing its praises loudly.
  - written by Lü Guanghua of Guangji, at the Central Martial Arts Institute, Dec, 1928

From the Journal: Psychological Collectivism in Traditional Martial Arts

 

 

Greetings!  I am currently traveling for some fieldwork on daunbing (short weapons training).  As someone who spends a lot of time researching the Republic era Chinese martial arts, I am excited to finally have a chance to learn more about this discipline.  In the mean time, here is an article by Veronika Partikova, an up and coming graduate student in Hong Kong, which was published in the latest issue of Martial Arts Studies. Its a great piece that, while explicitly discussing Chinese communities, should be applicable to any number of traditional martial arts.

 

Abstract

This paper offers a new perspective for viewing traditional martial arts in terms of psychology. It argues that ‘traditional’ martial arts offer physical skills, moral codes, rituals, roles, and hierarchical relationships which, taken together, creates the perfect environment for psychological collectivism . Psychological collectivism focuses on individuals and their abilities to accept the norms of an in-group, understand hierarchy, and feel interdependence or the common faith of the group. First, this paper introduces the theory of psychological collectivism and connects it with traditional martial arts known as wushu or kung fu. It argues that traditional Asian martial arts create situations strong enough to activate collectivistic attributes of self and suggests that practitioners’ mind-sets can be different within and outside of the training environment. This kind of collectivistic interaction may provide one explanation for how non-Asian practitioners function in such training environments and how the traditional Asian martial arts can work as psychosocial therapies.

 

Click here to read more!

Il Maestro 朱向前Zhu Xiangqian (XX gen. Chenjiagou)

 

L’Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai – 意大利天才太极院 è ENTUSIASTA di annunciare che a Maggio il nostro Maestro e direttore tecnico Zhu Xiang Qian tornerà in Italia ad insegnare:

A breve seguiranno news e programmi.

L’articolo Il Maestro 朱向前Zhu Xiangqian (XX gen. Chenjiagou) proviene da 意大利天才太极院.

Chinese Martial Arts in the News: February 16th, 2019: All the World’s a Stage

 

 

Introduction

I hope that everyone enjoyed their Lunar New Year.  Its always a time of many public exhibitions and celebrations.  They, in turn, generate an uptick in news coverage of local martial arts practices and well as Lion Dancing.  Most of the articles included in this update include a fair amount of self-conscious public performance, though that happens in many registers. As such, we will have a lot to talk about.

For new readers, this is a semi-regular feature here at Kung Fu Tea in which we review media stories that mention or affect the traditional fighting arts. In addition to discussing important events, this column also considers how the Asian hand combat systems are portrayed in the mainstream media.

While we aim to summarize major stories over the last month, there is always a chance we may have missed something. If you are aware of an important news event relating to the TCMA, drop a link in the comments section below. If you know of a developing story that should be covered in the future feel free to send me an email.

Its been way too long since our last update so let’s get to the news!

 

 

News From All Over

Our first article comes from the pages of the ever reliable South China Morning Post Magazine.  Don’t let the somewhat awkward title (a classic case of editorial over-reach) throw you off (“Me and my uncle Ip Man taught Bruce Lee Wing Chun kung fu. He was rubbish when he started“). The article is well worth reading, and doesn’t really have much to do with Bruce Lee.  Instead its a largely autobiographical reminisce by Lo Man Kam (86).  Students of Wing Chun history will probably remember him as Ip Man’s nephew and the individual who introduced the art to Taiwan.  There is some nice discussion in this piece.  Its definitely one to keep filed away for future reference.

 

 

Regular readers may recall that in our last news update we saw that the city of Shanghai was staging a number of celebrations around its Jingwu heritage.  That seems to have become a small, but notable, aspect of its tourism portfolio.  Those events also carried over into this month’s roundup.  Jingwu enthusiasts had special plans to mark Master Huo Yuanjia’s 150th birthday.  The article also includes a short promotional video that maybe of interest.

 

 

While not really a “headline grabbing” piece, the next article is probably my favorite in this news roundup.  It examines how a shopping mall in south Edmonton Canada became a Taijiquan hub for local senior citizens.

Shoppers at a south Edmonton mall may not realize the hallways between the stores have a secret — they’ve quietly turned into an improvised community centre on weekday mornings.

Between 8:30 and 10 a.m., Monday to Friday, around 100 people gather in Southgate Centre before the stores open.

Five separate tai chi classes, a dance class and mall walking groups have set up in the hallways. Many of the participants are seniors, who credit the classes with keeping them happy and healthy.

It is interesting to see this very organic expression of Chinese martial art culture taking root in a global context, and it might make a great case study for any anthropologists or ethnographers who happened to be in the area.

 

 

Of course the Chinese martial arts are all about balance.  Where there is Taijiquan there must also be Shaolin.  That brings us to our next story.  Its a somewhat longer piece than you typically see in a local paper.  It profiles Hu Cheng and his journey from being a martial arts student in Dengfeng, to the traveling Shaolin Warrior Corp, to eventually landing as a hand combat instructor in Jefferson City.  I think that many of us will already be familiar with the basic outlines of this career pattern, but its always interesting to see how the individual details of the thing play out.

 

 

Hu Cheng isn’t the only Shaolin Warrior Monk to be in the news.  This guy has been getting a lot of attention due to his awesome Instagram account and fast feet.  Interesting example of social media in the modern Chinese martial arts (which is, of course, is a huge thing).

 

 

Next we have a pair of South China Morning Post articles examining the changing status of Lion Dancing in contemporary China.  The first is titled (rather ominously) “GOING, GOING, GONG: WHY IS LION DANCE DYING IN SINGAPORE AND HONG KONG, BUT ROARING BACK TO LIFE IN CHINA?”  Its well worth reading, but the answers it proposes are far from complex.  Basically parents in Hong Kong and Singapore strongly prioritize academic education which leaves little time for any sort of extra-curricular activities.  This has also been cited as a significant factor contributing the declining fortunes of Kung Fu in the region.  But in the PRC Lion Dancing is increasingly finding its way into the schools as institutions look for ways to boost their “cultural education” efforts.

However, as our next article reminds us, Lion Dancing isn’t faring equally well throughout China.  Its popularity is really centered in the South, and can be seen most strongly in places like Guangzhou and Foshan. In the North its more of a struggle to keep these traditions alive.  However, efforts to preserve Southern China’s cultural heritage and family traditions are propelling its Lion Dancing into the future.  This piece may be of special interest to Wing Chun, Hung Gar or Choy Li Fut students as it focuses very heavily on what is going on in contemporary Foshan.

 

 

Lion Dancing is probably most commonly seen during the New Year festival.  Indeed, all sorts of martial arts demonstrations are traditionally staged at this time of year.  And none is larger than the one that Chinese state TV puts together for their annual gala broadcast.  If thousands of students doing Taijiquan in unison, or making massive red flags, is your of thing, you will want to check this out…Its almost like there is some sort of discursive relationship between the Chinese martialists and the state….

 

Source: Kung Fu Tai Chi Magazine (Facebook).

 

Next we have something for the “Kung Fu Diplomacy” file.  Lets start with this aptly titled, official press release “Chinese Tai Chi tour seeks global reach, and its first stop is America.

“SAN FRANCISCO, Feb. 8 (Xinhua) — Byron Hartman wants to expand the reach of Tai Chi in America and beyond. He has just completed a near-perfect demonstration of his skills learned over the years from several martial arts masters.

“Chinese Tai Chi martial art is good for everyone and the Chinese people have enjoyed it, but we want to bring this art to the world,” Hartman, a biologist at Stanford University.”

Gene Ching, of Kung Fu Tai Chi Magazine, was also there and posted a bunch of pictures from the event to Facebook.  I expect that we will be seeing some reporting on the gathering from an American perspective soon.  In the mean time, check out their photos.

I think that this article, profiling a Wing Chun instructor in Turkey, could probably also be classified as a bit of cultural diplomacy.

 

I love that its the fans who are inside the ring, and the combatants who stand outside of it in this picture.

 

Our next article (also from the SCMP) is a classic example of milking the internet’s outrage machine.  Xu Xiaodong, who has made a career of exposing frauds within the traditional Chinese martial arts (or simply exposing the TCMA as a fraud…his mission seems to vary from one interview to the next) has set his sites on a new opponent, namely Bruce Lee himself.  If you think about it Lee is really the ideal target.  He can’t punch back, yet his outraged fans will generate tens of thousands of internet clicks.  Here is my favorite line from the interview, if for no other reason that it appears to be stunningly un-self-aware from someone who is increasingly criticized for choosing only the weakest opponents for his social-media-fueled beatdowns.

“When you look at Bruce Lee sparring footage, look at who he’s fighting, what kind of qualification the person has, you have to understand that,” Xu added.

Yes indeed. Whatever the value of Xu’s initial efforts, it seems that he has decided that the best way to make a living with MMA is not to actually fight other professionals, or even to teach his skills. Rather, he is transforming himself into the “Heel” of a cultural wrestling match that takes all of the Chinese martial arts (in every form and at every time period) as his own personal ring.  So, of course, the next logical step in the evolution of his public persona would be to start a feud with a movie star who has been dead for more than four decades…or to troll the entire city of Hong Kong.

 

 

Lets continue on with the “drama department” for a bit. The Shanghai Daily has proclaimed that a “Play dedicated to iconic martial arts’ master is a knockout.

A play dedicated to the memory of legendary martial arts master Cai Longyun recently premiered at the Magnolia Theater in Shanghai.

The play “Cai Longyun,” produced by Shanghai University of Sport, where Cai worked as a professor, took 18 months of research, script writing and rehearsals.

Cai shot to fame when he was only 14 years old by defeating an internationally renowned Russian fighter named Marceau Love – a man 11 years his senior.

His victory against the 25-year-old provided a boost to China, who at the time was often referred to by foreigners as the “sick man of Asia.”

 

 

If dance is more your thing you might instead want to check out “A Martial Arts Balletin which kicks, flips and dance take on a contemporary flare.

What would it look like if the New York City ballet’s corps of ballerinas were replaced by 20 kung fu Buddhist monks? Sutra, choreographed by Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui and with music by Szymon Brzóska, is as close an answer as you’re likely to get. The hourlong performance melds contemporary dance with the fighting techniques of China’s famous Shaolin martial arts.

Stephen Chow in Kung Fu Hustle.

 

And it is time to rejoice as “Kung Fu Hustle 2” has just been announced.  This film has always been a personal favorite.  And apparently I am not alone in that as the new project generated dozens of announcements and articles.  You can read more about it here.

 

 

It is African American History month and I noticed that the “The Black Kung Fu Experience” has been getting some new screenings.  Definitely check this out if you haven’t already seen it.

A film showcasing the careers of early black martial arts icons left its small audience wanting more.

“The Black Kung Fu Experience,” a 2012 documentary directed by Martha Burr and Mei-Juin Chen, was screened in the Fox Room at Rutland Free Library on Saturday. The event was hosted by the Rutland NAACP to coincide with Black History Month.

The film follows the careers of several black martial artists, such as Rob Van Clief, Donald Hamby and Dennis Brown, who among others became interested in the martial arts from watching Chinese Kung Fu-themed films, which were popular with American audiences in the late 1960s and 1970s.

 

Martial Arts Studies

Its time for an update of what has been happening in the scholarly discussion of the martial arts.  First off, we recently released Issue 7 of the journal.  As always, anyone with an internet connection can read it free on Cardiff University Press webpage.  Feel free to download or trade PDFs of individual articles or the entire issue.  Readers of Kung Fu Tea may want to take a look at the very first article on the history and evolution of Wing Chun in Germany (full disclosure, I am a co-author on that piece). But everything in the issue is great.  Check it out!

 

 

I realized that its been a while since we have talked about new books in the field.  Publishers have announced a number of upcoming projects.  Here are a couple that I thought were especially exciting.

 

 

 

John Christopher Hamm. 2019. The Unworthy Scholar from Pingjiang: Republican-Era Martial Arts Fiction. Columbia University Press. Released August 2019.

Xiang Kairan, who wrote under the pen name “The Unworthy Scholar from Pingjiang,” is remembered as the father of modern Chinese martial arts fiction, one of the most distinctive forms of twentieth-century Chinese culture and the inspiration for China’s globally popular martial arts cinema. In this book, John Christopher Hamm shows how Xiang Kairan’s work and career offer a new lens on the transformations of fiction and popular culture in early twentieth-century China.

The Unworthy Scholar from Pingjiang situates Xiang Kairan’s career in the larger contexts of Republican-era China’s publishing industry, literary debates, and political and social history. Writing at a time when writers associated with the New Culture movement promoted an aggressively modernizing vision of literature, Xiang Kairan consciously cultivated his debt to homegrown narrative traditions. Through careful readings of Xiang Kairan’s work, Hamm demonstrates that his writings, far from being the formally fossilized and ideologically regressive relics their critics denounced, represent a creative engagement with contemporary social and political currents and the demands and possibilities of an emerging cultural marketplace. Hamm takes martial arts fiction beyond the confines of genre studies to situate it within a broader reexamination of Chinese literary modernity. The first monograph on Xiang Kairan’s fiction in any language, The Unworthy Scholar from Pingjiang rewrites the history of early-twentieth-century Chinese literature from the standpoints of genre fiction and commercial publishing.

Xiang Kairan was an important figure in the Republic-era intellectual history of the Chinese martial arts.  I have even discussed him a few times on the blog.  So its nice to see a more focused study of his writings.

 

Capoeira, according to the Discover Brazil tourism campaign.

 

 

Ana Paula Höfling. 2019. Staging Brazil: Choreographies of Capoeira. Wesleyan University Press (June 4, 2019)

Staging Brazil: Choreographies of Capoeira is the first in-depth study of the processes of legitimization and globalization of capoeira, the Afro-Brazilian combat game practiced today throughout the world. Ana Paula Höfling contextualizes the emergence of the two main styles of capoeira, angola and regional, within discourses of race and nation in mid-twentieth century Brazil. This history of capoeira’s corporeality, on the page and on the stage, includes analysis of early-illustrated capoeira manuals and reveals the mutual influences between capoeira practitioners, tourism bureaucrats, intellectuals, artists, and directors of folkloric ensembles. Staging Brazil sheds light on the importance of capoeira in folkloric shows in the 1960s and 70s―both those that catered to tourists visiting Brazil and those that toured abroad and introduced capoeira to the world.

 

 

Sergio González Varela. 2019. Capoeira, Mobility, and Tourism: Preserving an Afro-Brazilian Tradition in a Globalized WorldRowman & Littlefield (Releases July 2019)

In Capoeira, Mobility, and Tourism: Preserving an Afro-Brazilian Tradition in a Globalized World, Sergio González Varela examines the mobility of capoeira leaders and practitioners. He analyzes their motivations and spirituality as well as their ability to reconfigure social practices. Varela draws on tourism mobilities, multi-sited ethnography, global networks, heritage, and the anthropology of ritual and religion in order to stress the commitment, dedication, and value that international practitioners bring to capoeira.

The next book isn’t exactly a scholarly volume, but I am pretty sure that it will interest many Kung Fu Tea’s readers.  And better yet, this one has not wait time.  Its shipping now.

 

 

 

 

Michael Matsuda. 2019. Martial Arts History Museum: The Story of How the Museum Began. Amazon Digital Services

The Martial Arts History Museum is the first, and only museum of its kind in the world. It is not a who’s who of the martial arts, rather, it is an educational facility revealing how Asian history became part of American history. It is an insight into culture, tradition and history. The book provides an in-depth look at how the museum began, the 12-year they took and the roadblocks they faced along the way. This is a unique way to get acquainted with the museum, its founder and how they gathered the martial arts world together to launch a museum dedicated to the martial arts. You will enjoy this journey and I assure you, you will finish this book quickly because it is so compelling.

 

Chinese tea utensil. Source: Wikimedia.

 

Kung Fu Tea on Facebook

A lot has happened on the Kung Fu Tea Facebook group over the last month.  We discussed multiple translations of classic Chinese martial arts manuals, the history of Xingyi Quan, and the search for a cure for Ninjutsu, a serious disease that effects thousands of martial artists each year. Joining the Facebook group is also a great way of keeping up with everything that is happening here at Kung Fu Tea.

If its been a while since your last visit, head on over and see what you have been missing!

A Short List of Women Who Shaped the Southern Chinese Martial Arts

 

Introduction

Friday morning posts are usually written the day before, and it just so happens that this week’s Thursday falls on Valentine’s Day. That complicates things for reasons that are both understandable and a few which are a little less obvious. It would be an understatement to say that my wife is very supportive of my writing and research within Martial Arts Studies.  What success I have had in this field is due in large part to her. And that is not simply the sort of trite truism that one is expected to say on Valentines Day.  Over the years Tara has become extremely well versed in the Martial Arts Studies literature. Even more critically, she generously edits almost all of my book chapters, article manuscripts, conference papers and blog posts.  To put that into some sort of perspective, over the years that adds up to about 3,500 single spaced pages (or well over two million words) of blog posts alone.  And she does this happily and with important insights.

So, to make a long story short, the very last thing that I want to give her on Valentine’s Day is another essay.  A note of heartfelt appreciation might be nice.  Yet by the time the rest of you are reading this on Friday morning, the holiday will have past. Such is my dilemna.

In an effort to stick to my regular publishing schedule, and also keep things brief for my wife, this post is my personal list of women who helped to shape the practice (and accessibility) of the martial arts in Southern China.  Some of these figures are well known, while others are obscure. Some are basically legendary, but a few made important contributions to the practice of these hand combat systems in more recent times.  In all cases, a close study of their lives reveals something new or unexpected about the evolution and development of the southern Chinese martial arts.

To underscore that last point, I decided to arrange this list in chronological order.  We will be starting in the Ming Dynasty and working our way up to the post-war era.  Obviously, there are thousands of female martial artists making important contributions today. But I have decided to stick with individuals whom I have already discussed on the blog to keep today’s post brief.  Click on any of the links below to find a detailed discussion of everyone on the list.

 

 

 

  1. Tang Saier: Female Warrior Saint and the Inspiration behind Ng Moy?

I suspect that everyone reading this blog will be familiar with the legend of Ng Moy and Yim Wing Chun.  Wing Chun’s creation mythology asserts that the former was a nun who survived the burning of Shaolin, while the later was her student and the first disciple of her new art.  It should be noted that female martial arts heroes became all the rage in both the wuxia novels and more popular stories produced in the final years of the Qing and opening decade of the Republic.  In actual fact most (though not all) martial artists in the late imperial period were male.

As Douglas Wile has noted, these stories are an important piece of evidence that help us to understand the ideological work that the Chinese martial arts were called upon to perform during this period.  And it seems likely that they did inspire many women and girls to take up the actual practice of the arts during the later Republic era.  But what historical sources did these mythmakers draw from?  Was there a grain of historical truth hidden in the literary creation of figures like Ng Moy?

China has had its share of charismatic, revolutionary, female leaders.  One of the most interesting was Tang Saier, who led a large revolt against the state during the early Ming dynasty, before eluding capture by vanishing into the country’s network of poorly regulated temples (or at least that is what the Yongle Emperor seemed to believe).  Her story will be of interest to all readers of Kung Fu Tea, particularly those who are looking for the literary roots of figures like Ng Moy or Yim Wing Chun.  You can read more about her rebellion, and literary after-life, here.

 

Two White Cranes by Ohara Koson ca. 1910. Source: Wikimedia.

 

  1. Woman Ding Number Seven: Founder of the Fujian Yongchun Boxing Tradition

The next entry on our list moves us up from the Ming to the early Qing dynasty.  In the mid 17th century a female martial artist and her husband moved to Yongchun in Fujian and taught dozens of disciples.  Her story is briefly recorded in a local gazetteer.  Yet by the time the Bubishi is produced (nearly 200 years later), this brief account has given way to a more detailed legend, fully integrated into the regional myth of the burning of the Shaolin Temple.

Ding’s story is important on a number of levels.  Hers is one of the few accounts we have of hand combat instruction during the first half of the Qing dynasty, and so it is important on those grounds alone.  And it is also one of the few accounts that we have a female martial arts instructor gaining prominence prior to the advent of the Jingwu era.

Yet we are also fortunate to have written documents and oral folklore that can be (more or less reliably) dated to specific periods.  This gives students of Chinese martial studies an unparalleled opportunity to study the process by which local martial arts teacher are deified through the mythmaking process.  Ding is worthy of our admiration because both her teachings, and the legend that she inspired, had a notable impact on the martial arts of Fujian province.

 

Image taken from a vintage french postcard showing soldiers gambling in Yunnan province. Note that the standing soldier on the left is holding a hudiedao in a reverse grip. Source: Author’s personal collection.

 

  1. Fei Ching Po – Professional Gambler and Female Martial Artist in Early 19th Century Guangzhou

Our next figure is a bit of a deviation.  While a martial artist, she is probably best remembered as a professional gambler.  More specifically, she is remembered as the owner of a gambling house that had the bad fortune of winning quite a bit of money from the son of a local magistrate. In world of high stakes gambling, as in life, one sometimes loses by winning.

Fei Ching Po makes our list not because of any specific contributions to the practice of boxing.  Rather, her life is heuristically useful.  News of her rise to prominence, and rapid decline, were first reported in the Canton Register.  These articles were later reprinted in James Holman’s best-selling 1840 travelogue, Travels in China, New Zealand, New South Wales, Van Diemen’s Land, Cape Horn, Etc. Etc.  Her life is an important illustration of marginal social classes that made up Guangzhou’s boxing community in the early 19th century.  Further, her story is most likely the first account of a non-fictional female practitioner of the Chinese martial arts to be widely circulated in the English language literature.  Click here if you are interested in further exploring the links between gambling and the martial arts in “Old Canton.”

 

A photo of female martial artists from the Jingwu Anniversary Book. The woman on the left is Chen Shichao, one of the most vocal campaigners for the equality of female martial artists within Jingwu. She toured China and south east Asia promoting female involvement in the martial arts.

 

  1. Chen Shichao and the Jingwu Association’s Feminist Revolution

Accounts of individuals such as Fei Ching Po suggest that female martial artists certainly existed prior to 1911.  Such individuals also appear to have been somewhat uncommon and hence noteworthy.  Yet by the mid 1920s tens of thousands of women, including many students in higher status middle and high schools, were practicing the traditional martial arts. Indeed, most newspaper accounts of large public martial arts displays during the 1920s and 1930s mention the presence of female participants.  Their mastery of the martial arts felt “revolutionary” to spectators at the time.  It was taken as clear evidence of the modern, progressive and scientific nature of China’s reformed martial arts. And that was generally seen as a positive sign of China’s modernization. Yet how did this come about?

One cannot understand the progressive turn within China’s elite martial arts community (and its subsequent embrace by a large part of the urban middle class) without discussing the critical contributions of the Jingwu Association.  And you can’t really understand the appeal of that group without exploring the life and career of the ever energetic, and highly charismatic, Chen Shichao.  The sister of Chen Gongzhe (one of the group’s key founding members), Shichao made sure that China’s new feminist sensibilities were reflected in Jingwu’s public statements and internal organization.  She ran classes for female martial artists and eventually created a semi-autonomous “women’s section.”  She made sure that Jingwu was advertised in the sorts of magazine’s that housewives read, and emphasized that a truly modern China could not be achieved without upgrading the human capital of female students just as quickly as their male counterparts.  The openness of the modern Chinese martial arts to female students is due in large part to the early reforms promoted by Chen Shichao within the Jingwu Association. You can read more about her efforts here and here.

 

Mok Kwai Lan posing with a student. She is 68 in this photograph., Source: Real Kung Fu Vol. 1 Number 7.

 

  1. Mok Kwai Lan: The Mistress of Hung Gar

Mok Kwai Lan is not (yet) a household name.  Yet almost all kung fu students, or even fans of Hong Kong action films, are familiar with her husband Wong Fei Hung.  Still, she was a well-trained martial artist and bonesetter long before she became Wong’s fourth wife (or more accurately, concubine).  During the course of their marriage she was instrumental in running not just the household, but also Wong’s clinic and martial arts classes.  She was responsible for instructing classes of female students, and even led the region’s first all-female lion dance society.  Following her husband’s death, she moved to Hong Kong and established a school where she taught for many decades.

Indeed, Mok is a fascinating figure as her life transcended so many generational boundaries.  Born in the late 19thcentury she would begin her training at the time of the Boxer Uprising, come into her own as a martial artist during the Republic, see the rise of Hong Kong’s golden era of Kung Fu culture in the 1950s, and even outlive Bruce Lee.  By the time of her passing in 1982 Mok had seen much of the modern history of the Chinese martial arts.  Indeed, she had shaped generations of students as she brought these practices firmly into the present.  You can read more about her remarkable life here.

 

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If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: Martial Mythology (1): Yim Wing Chun and the Hero’s Journey

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Violence and Peace: Reconsidering the Goals of Martial Arts

Lau Bun (top center) with senior students in his Hung Sing School of Choy Li Fut in San Francisco’s Chinatown, one of the oldest martial arts schools in America. During the summer of 1959, 18-year-old Bruce Lee had a little-known run-in with Lau Bun and his senior students. (Photo courtesy of UC Berkeley)

 

What is my motivation?

Connecting the dots between an individual’s intentions, their actions and subsequent systemic outcomes is more difficult than one might suspect.  Just ask any social scientist. Understanding each of these categories is important if we want to come to terms with either the causes, or interpretive meanings, of any event.  Yet the structure of the social world dictates that none of us get to work our will just how we would like.  My desires may bump up against your goals, and suddenly we both find ourselves acting “strategically.”  As the environment becomes complex, everyone is forced to do things that are not reflective of their original intentions.  Often this brings about situations that no single actor intended.

This is how you get major interstate wars, at least according to a number of leading scholars in the discipline of International Relations.  Given its excessively costly nature, great power war is often modeled as a type of miscalculation.  Or as one of my old teachers put it “War is the error term.”  We could say something similar about lots of bad outcomes.  There is not a single super-villain out there devising a plan to pollute the world’s oceans with plastics.  Rather, lots of people make individual choices about personal consumption, or corporate policy, and the end result is something that no one individual truly intended.  Such is the tragedy of the commons.

This leads us to one of the most important realizations to emerge from the field of Political Science (and before that Philosophy). Our fellow humans are responsible for many of the bad things that seem to define life, yet none of them (or very few) are actually evil.  Even fully rational people seeking their own self interest will inevitably fall into conflict and probably violence.  And that is a best-case scenario. To make matters worse, students of psychology have determined most decision making is no-where near “rational.”

Violence is pervasive.  It takes many forms.  There are short, sharp, instances of acute physical violence.  Wars, or physical assaults tend to get the most press.  But I don’t think there is any evidence to suggest that in total they are really more destructive than the other forms of structural violence that humans wreak on each other.  Famine, disease, colonialism and addiction have all taken their toll. But at least we can still quantify things like infant mortality rates (which typically go up in civil wars) or life expectancy (which tends to drop when economies go into a serious prolonged crisis).  Harder to measure, though no less real, are social stressors like inequality, discrimination and humiliation.

The martial arts interest me as a social scientist for many reasons.  Yet one of the most powerful is that they are a relatively inexpensive tools which local societies, across the globe, turn to as they seek to address the effects of violence in their own communities.  It wasn’t really until the 1960s and 1970s that social scientists in the West began to diversify our understanding of violence as having more than just a physical or political dimension.  Yet already in the 1920’s we can read book after book, article after article, in which Chinese martial artists argued that their practices could insulate the nation from each of the ills listed above.  They seemed to be far ahead of the curve on this.

This is also part of our challenge when we try to study the Chinese martial arts.  As I have argued before, it is impossible to reduce Chinese hand combat down to a single set of motivations.  Many people have practiced these systems for many different reasons.  An imperial bannerman, a night watchman, an opera performer and a traveling medicine salesman may all have practiced some sort of kung fu in the year 1819.  While they all may have done this so as to “make a living,” the sorts of violence that they faced (structural or otherwise) was not exactly the same.

 

Lion Dancers in Seattle, 2007. Source: Wikimedia. Photo by Joe Mabel.

 

Giving Peace a Chance

Over the last few years Paul Bowman and I have, at different times, called for greater focus on the problem(s) of violence within Martial Arts Studies.  Some of the things that have already been written suggest that students of our field can bring very interesting perspectives to these discussions.  For instance, I highly recommend that everyone take a look at Sixt Wetzler’s chapter in the recently published Martial Arts Studies Reader as a great example of the unique type of work that we might be able to do.

But while violence is the drumbeat that structures so many people’s lives, it is not a concept that can be understood (or even exist) in isolation.  As a result, we may not be able to fully grasp the social work that the martial arts are called on to perform if we examine them only in relation to this concept. Most frequently, violence (or in its interstate form “war”) is placed in opposition to the concept “peace.”

I put peace in quotes for a very good reason.  The complexities of defining and conceptualizing violence pale in comparison to the challenges of understanding peace. Violence is, after all, encoded in things that are done or structures that exist.  Peace is a subtler matter.  Yet it is critical as it structures the motivations of a good many martial artists, in a huge variety of times and places.

Perhaps the easiest place to start would be with a distinction drawn within the Peace Studies literature, often attributed to Johan Galtung. Still, it should be noted that these terms have been in circulation since the start of the twentieth century and reflect a common pattern of conceptual classification seen throughout the field of Political Science.  Galtung notes that “negative peace” is often taken to mean the absence of violent acts.  Importantly, it does not actually suggest a lack of conflict.  For example, Russia and the United States enjoyed a negative peace during the Cold War.  Though their conflicts continued to have a shaping effect on global politics, and terrified generations of people with the prospects of nuclear annihilation, no actual shooting between the two super powers ever took place.  Clearly this is a type of peace, but it is one that leaves something to be desired.  Even in the absence of a formal declaration of WWIII many people’s lives were destroyed.

The stark nature of this paradox led to renewed focus (first in Europe, and to a lesser extent in the United State) on the idea of “positive peace” in the 1960s and 1970s.  It sought to move beyond the obvious violence to address sources of underlying conflict (where possible).  This often means creating new types of relationships between actors, or internally seeking to address the systemic social and economic failures (poverty, famine, alienation, inequality) that either led to conflict in the past or might simply rob people of their basic humanity going forward.  Advocates of change through the creation of positive peace are typically just as interested in what is happening in the World Bank as the UN Security Council.

Peace Studies departments are much less common in the United States than the sorts of International Relations (IR) programs where I received my training.  Still, a number of their concepts have found their way into the general Political Science literature.  One of these insights, which might be particularly helpful for students of Martial Arts Studies, bears on the question of scalability.  Much of the traditional IR discussion of violence has focused on events at the national level.  After all, nations which go to war and IR theorists very much want to understand why.

But a moment’s thought suggest that it is not just nations that “go to war.”  It is also social groups, cities and individuals who are mobilized in these campaigns.  And it is at this much more local level that the violence of a conflict, whether acute or structural, is actually absorbed.  We should not be surprised to discover that local leaders and community actors are often very aware of the logic of negative and positive peace.

 

Lee Jung, dressed for a Lion Dance in Los Angeles during the 1930s. Source: Author’s Personal Collection.

 

Peace Through Strength

Still, local community leaders have neither the resources nor the ability to make the sorts of sweeping systemic changes that classical Peace Theory often advocates. Instead they may find themselves relying on voluntary groups as they attempt to steer their communities through events not of their own making.  This is one area, from Japan to Indonesia to South America, where we have regularly seen martial arts communities brought into the political realm.

For instance, one of the most common side effects of sudden economic or political disruption is a spike in violent crime. At various times in Chinese history martial arts groups have been explicitly called upon by local officials to deal with these trends.  They have been used to clear the roads of bandits, protect crops ripening in the field from neighboring villages and even to form militias. Or to put it slightly differently, the martial arts societies were called upon to provide some much-needed “negative peace.”  In the short run one must protect the village’s crops and keep bandits at bay before anything other sort of policy action is possible.  Likewise, when we train individuals to physically protect themselves from the worst effects of a violent assault in a modern American environment, we are focusing on a model of negative peace.  We are attempting to bring peace by ending an anticipated attack.

Yet that was never the only goal of the Confucian officials who would, from time to time, recruit martial arts groups to help and restore order in the countryside.  They were well aware that violent bandit groups tended to recruit from the same pool of “bare sticks” (young unmarried men with few economic prospects) that martial arts schools drew on.  In times of famine or economic disruption these individuals, who were typically day laborers or only marginally employed, were hit first and hardest by any disruption.  That hunger and desperation was precisely why they were likely to join a bandit organization.  Worse yet, they lacked a secure place within the traditional village structure which defined one’s status through the inheritance of land, marriage or educational attainment. The long-term social prospects for excess sons was quite bleak.  Or in current social scientific parlance, we might say that these young men were systemically disadvantaged.

The formal raising of militias, or the informal tolerance of martial arts groups, addressed these issues on two levels. Militia membership came with a paycheck that might forestall economic emergency.  Membership in a martial arts society provided an important source of identity.  There individuals would develop narratives about the importance of protecting the same communities (and according to Avron Bortez, even the same norms) which might otherwise have been seen as alienating and threatening. In either case, by taking young men off the street the bandits brotherhoods and rebel armies had fewer potential recruits and they tended to grow more slowly.  This, in turn, limited their ability to disrupt the peace.

All of this reveals an important pattern. Martial artists, while lacking standing within the Confucian order, were often a critical asset necessary for the stabilization, and projection of power into, local society.  In times of crisis it really was necessary to “man the barricades” and fight bandits.  Hence the actual efficacy of these practices were important when thinking about the strategies for imposing a “negative peace.”  Yet these measures worked best when they succeeded in convincing young men that they had a place in the system, forestalling the rapid expansion of the types of social disorder that arose quite frequently in Chinese history.  And it is not at all clear that the “most realistic” types of martial arts training would serve these other ends the best.  Basic fitness and self-defense skills are always great. More importantly, they transform violence from an existential threat to an engaging puzzle that one can organize their training and identity around.  And if the creation of a positive peace is your central goal then public performance (lion dance), community building (lineage mythology) and ritual begin to make a lot more sense.

When viewed from the perspective of negative peace these things may appear to be secondary considerations at best.  Others might see them as distractions, or evidence of the “decayed” state of a martial system.  And yet these “secondary” practices and structures must also be replicated through the generations, often at great expense.  So why maintain the effort?  Why do so many systems continue to argue that the martial arts are first and foremost a means by which young people learn about their place in society?  If we consider these same systems from the perspective of positive peace theory suddenly these sorts of practices make much more sense. Rather than being somehow secondary they are important tools by which local society seeks to address the sorts of ills that lead to festering conflict and eventually violence.

 

A Lion Dance performance in NYC’s Chinatown. Source: Wikimedia.

 

Conclusion

Most of this post has been framed as a discussion of how we might relate these two different concepts of peace to understanding the motivations of martial artists in late Imperial China.  Anyone who wants to read more about these strategies need look no further than the classic academic works on the Boxer Uprising (Esherick) and the Red Turban Revolt (Wakeman).  Indeed, the Late Imperial Chinese literature is full of accounts of local elites running through these exact strategies as they sought to utilize (or contain) the potentially violent power of large groups of disaffected young men.

Yet these two understandings of peace, and the strategies that are employed to achieve it, are valuable precisely because of their portability.  Young people living in violent neighborhoods may seek out martial arts training because they fear physical violence, and in so doing find kung fu schools or Olympic boxing programs that have specifically designed by local community leaders to provide “at risk youth” with the sort of tools and social support that they need to succeed.  The Salt Lake City library recently instituted a Taijiquan program for the local homeless population in an effort to deal with some of the structural, rather than physical, challenges that this community faces.  One could multiply examples like this almost endlessly.

I have written at length as to how our current martial practices are a product of modernity, rather than some mythic past.  I don’t want to rehash those arguments here.  But it is worth remembering that one of the central defining aspects of modern economic markets is a tendency towards ever more narrow forms of specialization.  Lawyers, medical doctors, teachers and psychologists now handle the same functions that monks or priests once did.  And in general, they do so much more efficiently as they are allowed to spend their entire careers focusing on a single task.  I think that we also see a certain tendency towards specialization within the martial arts community.  Certain schools focus intently on developing “real world” fighting skills for the realm of combat sports, while others seem to specialize in teaching 6-12-year-old students core social skills like “discipline” and “focus.”

Still, the martial arts community is one place where you do see some resistance to this trend of ever greater specialization.  In some cases that resistance seems to be a cause of frustration. Within my own style it is not hard to identify the groups who want to see more emphasis on the combative western approach to sparring and others who are only interested in form work and delving into the “inner” aspects of their art.  Yet angry snipping on internet forums aside, at the end of the day everyone is still doing Wing Chun.

Social scientists might be tempted to see this resistance to specialization as a rejection of modernity.  A few might even (incorrectly) interpret it as evidence of the survival of “pre-modern” social structures into the current era.  That sort of theorizing might be premised on the unstated assumption that martial arts styles, or even individual practitioners, have a single dominant goal or interest.  If that were the case, then perhaps a resistance to technical specialization would be a sign of some sort of “social discourse” overwhelming the logic of market rationality.

Yet the existence of negative and positive strategies for achieving peace and harmony in our communities (at whatever level we choose to define them) suggests that there may be some very good reasons why so many traditional martial arts have refused to specialize.  In our enthusiasm for our individuals training we often lose sight of the fact that these systems are fundamentally social in nature.  And it is very difficult to know in advance which threats of violence a group or community might face decades in the future. Southern China in 1850 faced the prospects of both civil war and invasion by foreign powers.   In 1950 the main challenge facing youth in Hong Kong was social dislocation and the unique cultural pressures that come from living in a system of simultaneous exile and colonization.  Remarkably community, leaders turned to similar martial arts as a critical tool in addressing both sets of problems.

As a student of Martial Arts Studies all of this is endlessly fascinating and very instructive. Yet I also suspect that there is a lesson here for me as a student of traditional Chinese martial arts. While I am always seeking to clarify my own practice, perhaps I should be more comfortable with the fact that many traditional fighting systems insist of inhabiting the messy middle. What at first appears to be a crisis of utility (“But will it work in the Octagon?”), might in fact be the very thing that allows these systems to deal with the many other sorts of structural violence (isolation, inequality, disease, discrimination) which leads many students to seek a more meaningful sense of peace in their lives.

 

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If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: Telling Stories about Wong Fei Hung and Ip Man: The Evolution of a Heroic Type

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Hawkins Cheung and the Making of Modern Wing Chun History

 

 

Regrets

As many readers will already know, Master Hawkins Cheung Hok Jin passed away on Sunday February 3rd 2019, in Los Angeles.  Within the martial arts community regrets take many forms.  One of my great regrets is that I had never had a chance to study with Hawkins Cheung. Yet he still had a profound effect on my understanding of both the nature of this art and the wider Wing Chun community. When Jon Nielson and I were researching our book on the development of Wing Chun, we frequently found ourselves coming back to the published accounts and interviews that Hawkins Cheung had provided over the years. We felt that these were some of the best, most reliable, descriptions of Wing Chun’s early years in Hong Kong (1950s-1960s) that one could hope to find.

Some of these accounts have already gained a fairly wide following within the Wing Chun community as they provided a remarkably frank assessment of Hawkins Cheung’s relationship with both Bruce Lee (his close friend and schoolmate), as well as Ip Man, his Sifu.  It should be noted that throughout his life he spoke on many other subjects.  He offered his own assessment of the true nature of Jeet Kun Do (JKD) and William Cheung’s innovations, styling his own instruction “classic Wing Chun” at least partially in response to these other developments within the community.  Readers of Black Belt magazine will even remember Hawkins Cheung as an early and passionate advocate of a more combative approach to Taijiquan.

There is much that one could say about the life and career of such a remarkable martial artist.  Cheung possessed a restless spirit always seeking progress. Throughout his life he sought to not just master Wing Chun, but to understand what made it work.  This same curiosity would lead him to explore several other styles.  Hawkins Cheung was a student of Goju-Ryu Karate in which he achieved a fourth Dan.  He also developed a strong interest in Wu Taijiquan, which he approached with his signature direct practicality.  After coming to the United States he set up a succession of successful schools in Los Angeles and introduced countless students (including individuals like Phillip Romero and Phil Morris) to Ip Man’s art.

By any standard Hawkins Cheung’s career was remarkable. He was one of just a handful of individuals who really shaped Wing Chun’s spread to North America.  This brings us to a second, deeper, level of regret. Despite his many contributions, Cheung’s life and career are not well understood, except perhaps by his closest students. Bruce Lee was a luminary figure who ignited a Kung Fu fever.  We would be remiss if we did not acknowledge his role in creating a global environment where Wing Chun might succeed.  But we must also acknowledge his absolute talent for sucking the oxygen out of a room, or dominating any conversation that he might appear in.

Sadly, Hawkins Cheung is typically discussed only as Bruce’s sidekick.  When reporters or researchers approached him, it was almost always to ask about his friend Bruce.  This seemed to bother Cheung on a few levels, the most important of which was that Bruce had been a very close friend, and losing him was painful. Yet in death Lee’s myth grew to such proportions that it was impossible for anyone to escape his shadow.

All of this is in equal parts ironic and regrettable when thinking about Hawkins Cheung.  It is ironic as he conveyed to current students so much historical knowledge about Hong Kong in the 1950s, yet accounts of his own career in the 1970s-1990s are extremely rare.  It is regrettable as his life growing up in Hong Kong, and immigration to the West, mirrored Wing Chun’s global journey. Indeed, the two are inextricably linked. Serious historians and social scientists would better understand the process by which the Chinese martial arts succeeded as a global phenomenon if we could write his story. Even if Bruce Lee was critical to igniting the fire, it lasted because individuals like Hawkins Cheung were capable of feeding it.

Perhaps the first step toward better understanding is to simply appreciate what we already have. In the remainder of this post I will explore a basic outline of Hawkins Cheung’s life and contributions to the Asian martial arts.  It is my hope that this will not only provide some insight into him, but also the ways in which history itself is memorialized and created.  Indeed, traditional Chinese lineage structures have been making sense of the present by linking certain sorts of facts about the past for a long time.  These highly stylized patterns of remembrance tell us something about the environment and sorts of challenges that our community faces.  Yet other types of memory, ones that explicitly focus on the decades of quiet effort that are so often forgotten in our rush to construct martial immortality, are necessary to build a fuller understanding of how we got here and where we might be going.  Hawkins Cheung’s life and career may be particularly important in this respect.

 

 

The Fighter

Only a limited amount of information about Hawkins Cheung’s early life seems to have made it into English language discussions.  He was born sometime around 1940 and grew up in Kowloon.  After 1949 the area became increasingly crowded with refugees and homeless individuals fleeing across the border with Communist controlled Guangdong.  Even as a child Cheung was acutely aware of the bleak nature of life in Hong Kong emphasizing (as a repeated talking point in his later interviews) the problems with overcrowding, unemployment, homelessness and organized crime. These structural limitations would weigh heavily on the group of sometimes angry young men who gathered to train with Ip Man.

Still, Hawkins Cheung was more fortunate than most. He grew up in a relatively wealthy family.  His father owned a luxurious car and could employ a professional driver to ferry his young son to school.  It was also natural that Hawkins Cheung would be drawn to the martial arts given his small size, propensity for aggression and boundless energy.  It was at the Francis Xavier Intermediate School that he first met and befriended the similarly predisposed Bruce Lee, who had recently been expelled (with good cause) from the much more prestigious LaSalle school. I will refer anyone who is interested in the gory details of that episode to Matthew Polly’s recent biography.

Being relatively affluent had other benefits as well. Hawkins Cheung reports that he was either 13 or 14 when he began to study Wing Chun kung fu with Ip Man, sometime around 1954.  Interestingly, he was at first unaware when his friend Bruce also began to study with the same teacher, probably because the two were attending class at different times.  Phil Morris suggests that later the two purposefully went to separate classes at least in part because the intensely competitive young men did not want to reveal their level of skill to a potential rival.

Some of our best accounts of life within Ip Man’s school come from a series of interviews that Hawkins Cheung gave to Inside Kung-Fu magazine in 1991.  He speaks frankly about the competitive nature of outside challenge fights, but also the internal Chi Sao culture that developed among some of the younger Wing Chun students. Everyone wanted to be “top dog”, and Hawkins Cheung was at a real disadvantage due to his small size.  I think that many Wing Chun students today will be able to relate to the frustrations that he expresses in these interviews.

Interestingly Ip Man, who didn’t typically handle the day to day training of the younger students, intervened at a point when he may have been considering quitting, guided him through an exploration of the basic defensive structures in the art’s unarmed forms.  This helped Hawkins Cheung to build an understanding of Wing Chun that worked for him.  Readers should remember that even by Hong Kong standards Ip Man was a pretty short individual of slight build.  It would have been hard to think of a better mentor when addressing these problems.

Hawkins Cheung continued to study with Ip Man until 1959.  One of the most important, yet often overlooked, causes of Wing Chun’s global success was the chronic under-development of Hong Kong’s educational sector in the 1950s and 1960s.  There simply were not enough slots at Hong Kong University for all of the good students coming out the city’s school system.  Nor were there enough high paying jobs to satisfy the children of the city’s middle class.  The fact that Hong Kong was a British territory meant it was entirely possible for the children of wealthy families to do something about this.

Ip Ching has noted that many of his father’s better off young students traveled to North America, Australia or Europe to pursue both University degrees and better job prospects.  Bruce Lee was far from alone in this exodus.  Indeed, this pattern of global dispersal ensured that when Wing Chun became famous there were already a handful of well qualified individuals spread throughout the globe who could promote the art.  Meanwhile, others had already acquired the language skills and life experience necessary to immigrate to the West and set up schools of their own.

Hawkins Cheung decided to further his educational prospects in Australia, but it seems that many of his experiences there were far from positive. As he noted in subsequent interviews, WWII had resulted in a high degree of anti-Japanese/anti-Asian prejudice, and it was not uncommon for Chinese students to be subject to racist attacks and other forms of violence. There were also tensions within the local Asian expatriate community, and Hawkins Cheung reports frequent fights with Thai kickboxers.

After finishing college Cheung returned to Hong Kong in 1962.  He continued to study with Ip Man (now as a more senior student) until the time of his death in 1972.  Adding things up, it appears that Hawkins Cheung enjoyed about 15 years of study as Ip Man’s student, both before and after college.  While many individuals trained with Ip Man, due to retention problems and Ip Man’s many moves, relatively few students could claim such long periods of continuous training.

While in Hong Kong, Hawkins Cheung explored other arts, including Goju-Ryu Karate. Despite what one might assume, it was not uncommon for Chinese individuals to study Japanese arts (in either Hong Kong or Australia) during this period.  What was much less common was for someone to maintain close ties to both communities while gaining a high degree of expertise.  These styles were, after all, peer competitors.

Cheung relates that he was fascinated by the speed and power that Goju-Ryu practitioners could project through years of practice. He desperately wanted to learn how to counter this using Wing Chun structures, as well as to improve his own abilities.  Yet he was also attracted to Karate as it offered a place where legal, socially approved, sparring could happen without the fear of police or gang involvement.  He considered this essential to his training.

In fact, it seems that Hawkins Cheung was almost as skilled a diplomat as he was fighter. That might be a surprise given his often direct, kinetic and demanding teaching ethos.  But even within the complex and fractured political landscape that emerged following Ip Man’s death, it is hard to think of any of his students who immigrated to the West who were more generally liked. As anyone who has read his articles or interviews knows, Hawkins Cheung was not shy about making his opinions known. Whether the subject was the true nature of JKD or the Taijiquan’s combative potential, Cheung was always willing to wade into the fray.  Yet he remained almost universally respected. As any political scientist can tell you, diplomacy is also a martial art.

Hawkins Cheung immigrated to the United States in the late 1970s, a few years after Ip Man’s death.  I have not been able to figure out much about his first few critical years.  Yet by 1980 he was running a school with Dan Inosanto in Culver City Los Angeles.  In a two-part article published in Wing Chun Illustrated in September 2017, Phillip Romero relates how he first discovered Cheung and began to train at his school.

Romero’s reminisces are valuable and readers are encouraged to head on over and examine them in full.  They suggest an outline of the California period of Cheung’s career.  But beyond that, they provide the same sorts of highly textured description of a school life that Hawkins Cheung himself had given us when describing his own training with Ip Man.  Indeed, these rich descriptions are every bit as valuable to students of martial arts studies as any biographical details that may be related.

Romero paints a picture (largely supported by accounts from other students) of Hawkins Cheung as a demanding teacher.  If as Sifu he embodied the “fatherly” archetype, his was the exacting and goal driven Chinese patriarch.

On a more technical level, as a still relatively young man he was concerned with how Wing Chun structures could be made to work in a variety of combative environments.  The sorts of students who thrived in his early schools were those willing to risk bruises, split lips and other injuries in full contact drills and sparring that didn’t employ the sorts of safety equipment that would now be standard issue.  Rather than MMA gloves (which did not yet exist) Romero relates how he found Cheung and his students using lightly padded gardening gloves where the fingers had been cut off.

Romero followed Cheung through multiple school locations.  After closing his martial arts supply business (something that I would like to learn more about) to focus exclusively on teaching Hawkins Cheung opened a larger, two story school on Venice Blvd., “not far from the Culver mall.”  This must have been a good location as Romero goes on to describe nightly classes with over 90 students split into three separate sections. This was followed up by another class for the senior students who helped to teach large sections of beginners. Still, not everyone was interested in the intensity and “reality” of the training on offer.

I must confess, however, that many of the reminisces of Cheung’s training in this period remind me of the sorts of contact levels and expectations that I experienced when I began my own Wing Chun apprenticeship some years later.  Prior to the eruption of the UFC, MMA and BJJ there was more combative interest (and talent) being invested into the traditional striking arts.  Yet every art has a certain reputation, or set of social expectations, which allows it to survive in a competitive marketplace.  These seem to have changed dramatically for many systems following the rise of MMA.

I have often wondered whether the perceived combat deficiency of Wing Chun really reflects fundamental shortcomings in the system, or if a more sociological explanation is needed. By in large, the sorts of students who are willing to sacrifice the most and train the hardest are now siphoned directly into an entirely different set of social discourses around the modern combat sports.  My friend Sixt Wetzler attempted to provide a theoretical basis for this sort of observation in an article that he wrote on applying systems theory to explain change within the martial arts communities. Still, a fuller and more granular exploration of what was going on in within Hawkins Cheung’s large Wing Chun community in the 1980s and 1990s might prove an interesting test case for these sorts of models.

In 1989 Hawkins Cheung closed the Ventura Blvd. school, and opened his final location a few miles away. This third school ran until 2014. It seems that with age his interests and teaching methods evolved (though his intensity did not necessarily mellow).  And Romero points out that the blossoming of BJJ and MMA had a definite impact on the type of training that happened.

Still, Cheung’s contributions to the global martial arts community were not confined to his teaching activities.  His name appeared in martial arts magazines, both in articles and letters, throughout the 1980s.  Nor did he confine his contributions to the discussion of Wing Chun. He even emerged a popular advocate of a more combative understanding of Taijiquan, another art that he was deeply invested in.

In the early 1990s Hawkins Cheung gave what can only be considered a seminal (four-part) interview to Inside Kung Fu magazine. It must be considered mandatory reading by anyone interested in the development of Wing Chun during the post-WWII period. And it is hard to understate how much these articles shaped subsequent discussion of Bruce Lee’s legacy.  Just check the footnotes of any of his biographical treatment published after 1992 to see what I mean.

Cheung was also something of an early adopter in the area of film and video recording.  Steven Moody has noted that he collected 16 mm film of many of the most important figures in Wing Chun’s modern development.  He is also reputed to have had films of various roof top challenge matches recorded earlier in Hong Kong.  In an effort (only partially successful) to distribute some of this information, Hawkins Cheung established a Youtube Channel in 2013. There readers can find a manageable selection of his demonstration, discussions and interviews.  He even posted some of his engagement with Wu and Chen style Taijiquan. In fact, you probably owe it to yourself to check out this vintage interview.

 

 

Memory

Memory is not an automatic thing, at either the individuals or the social level.  We are all constantly curating our past as we choose what to remember and what we will allow to slip away.  This process of remembering and forgetting is actually key to the construction of intergenerational Chinese martial arts communities.  The social identity of a practitioner is defined, at least to some extent, by the lineage that they identify with.

Yet lineage is not history.  It tells us a strong story about who we are now, but the ahistorical nature of the legend building process suggests that this way of viewing the martial arts is much less helpful if our goal is to understand how exactly we got here, or where we might be going.

The irony of Master Cheung’s life is that through his interviews he did much to preserve our history.  Yet his story, like that of so many instructors in his generation, remains to be fully explored.  Even in death he is still remembered as “Bruce Lee’s friend,” which is true, and something that he was proud of.  Yet if this is the only fact that we remember, we are in danger of forgetting so much more about how Wing Chun evolved as it moved onto the global stage.

It is my fervent hope that in the coming months we will see more detailed remembrances and discussions of a critical career, one that should not be forgotten.  But we should also take this moment to ask what other work must be done.  Oral history projects are an important means by which non-specialists can contribute to the preservation of martial arts communities.  It is something of a truism to say that the martial arts are always evolving, but we are in a particularly critical moment when so much of the post-WWII history of the TCMA will either be preserved or lost.  All of this will only become our history if we first choose to remember it.

 

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If you enjoyed this post you might also want to read: Remembering Chu Shong Tin and the Relationship between Theory and Observation in Chinese Martial Studies

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Fighting Talk: Martial Arts Discourse in Mainstream Films – by Paul Bowman

Presentation from Cardiff University

paper available on Academia.edu

This article examines conversations, dialogues and statements about martial arts in films that can by no stretch of the imagination be regarded as martial arts films. It takes this unusual focus in order to glean unique insights into the status of martial arts in mainstream popular culture. The work is interested in the ways that martial arts are understood, positioned and given value within the wider flows, circuits, networks or discourses of culture. Films examined include Vision Quest/Crazy for You (1985), Lolita(1962), Roustabout (1964), Napoleon Dynamite (2004), An Officer and a Gentleman (1982), Full Metal Jacket (1987), Rollerball (1975), Trading Places (1983), The Wanderers (1979), Once Were Warriors (1994) and Meet the Fockers (2004); and some discussion is given to ‘limit cases’ – action films such as The Matrix (1999) and Lethal Weapon (1987). The analysis suggests that martial arts tend to be represented in non-martial arts films audiovisually, and that on the rare occasions martial arts are discussed, they tend to emerge as improper or culturally unusual activities or practices. Because of their familiar, yet non-normal (unhomely/unheimlich, uncanny) status, along with their entwinement in senses of lack and related fantasies and desires, martial arts in these contexts are frequently related to matters of sexuality, insecurity and the desire for plenitude. Accordingly, although occasionally associated with higher cultural values such as dignity, martial arts are more often treated as comic, uncanny or perverse aberrations from the norm.

Research Note: A Visit with the Jingwu Association in 1928

 

At the moment I am working on a guest editorial project examining Afro-Caribbean and New World martial arts.  It will pose a number of interesting questions and I hope to discuss some of these practices in greater depth.  Unfortunately, the issues’ deadlines have turned out to be a bit tighter that we first thought, and it is monopolizing quite a bit of my time for the next few days.

Nevertheless, I recently came across a fascinating newspaper article that I wanted to share with the readers of Kung Fu Tea. My discussion of this piece must be brief, but the article’s contents are interesting enough that it can stand on its own.

Still, just a bit of framing may be helpful. Almost every national-level discussion of the Jingwu Association within the historical literature on the Chinese martial arts ends rather abruptly with the bankruptcy of its founding members in 1924.  Authors like Morris and Kennedy note, quite correctly, that the organization ceased to play a central role in the promotion of the Chinese martial arts at that point.  The Jingwu brand is often assumed to have been broken and, in any case, the stage has already been set for the emergence of the Guoshu movement with the completion of the KMT’s Northern Campaign.

Again, this is all correct so far as it goes. Yet it also seems that most readers go on to assume that Jingwu simply vanished after this point and ceased to be any sort of force within the Chinese martial arts.  That was most certainly not the case.  To say that a group no longer (and almost single handedly) set the agenda for the reform of the Chinese martial arts is not the same as saying it ceased to play any role in that struggle.

While Jingwu’s founders and national structure took a punishing financial hit in 1924, many of its individual branches continued normal operations, and even made headlines with important events, right up until the eve of WWII.  In The Creation of Wing Chun: A Social History of the Southern Chinese Martial Arts, Jon Nielson and I provide an extensive discussion of the later history of the Jingwu Association in both Foshan and Guangzhou, two cities where it continued to have a major impact on the martial landscape. Andrew Morris has also noted that the group continued to exhibit quite a bit of social clout in various South East Asian communities up until the present time.

The following article, first published in The China Press in August of 1928, reminds us that Jingwu also continued to function as an important force in Shanghai. Indeed, a month before the Central Guoshu Institute’s now famous first national martial arts exhibition, the Jingwu Association was commemorating an anniversary of its own in front of an assembled crowd of over a thousand guests.

While press accounts of Jingwu demonstrations are not uncommon, this one is interesting as it reviews the sorts of political, social and cultural presentations that framed the martial arts exhibits in great detail. It seems that even in 1928 the Association was presenting a face designed to appeal to an educated and upwardly mobile middle class.  This particular account is also interesting in that it lays out so many names for future investigation.

Beyond that, I was struck by the unnamed reporter’s frequent use of the term “sword playing” in an apparent description of taolu. Many press accounts from the period refer to these solo-forms simply as “sword dancing” or “gymnastics.”  However, the English language vocabulary used to describe Chinese martial arts practice was far from standardized in the 1920s, and tends to shift from one newspaper to the next.  We can now add “sword playing” to the ever-growing list of key words to be used when conducting electronic searches.

Still, for all of the pretense at educational theory and middle-class respectability, it is important to note that The China Press continued report all of this as an athletic event, rather than as cultural or political gathering.  In fact, it was placed directly besides an item of boxing news titled “British Lightweight, Jack Berg, Defeated by ‘Fargo Express.’”  Even after its ostensible fall, the Jingwu Association was still being invoked in the local press as a uniquely Chinese answer to Western athletics and physical culture.

 

Physical Exhibition Held Last Night by Chinese Athletes

Speeches, Chinese gymnastics consisting of wrestling, boxing, fencing, sword playing, dances and Chinese music were featured [in] the 33rd physical exhibition of the Chin Woo Athletic Association which was successfully held last night at the Central Hall, North Szechuen, with more than a thousand guests in attendance.  The Association was established 19 years ago, and is one of the oldest athletic associations in existence, whose main object is to promote the art of Chinese boxing.  The exhibition is arranged to be held monthly and last nights was the most brilliant carried out.

The program began with the reading of the monthly report of the Association by Dr. Jackson Cheng, the Chairman of the Association, and was followed with a short speech by Mr. C. N. Shen, who is famous in educational circles.  His speech mainly deals with the question of how to promote education in China, the service of the Association to the public in [the] athletic world being greatly praised and urged.  After a concert which was appreciated by all, gymnastic exercises consisting of boxing, fencing, [and] sword playing were exhibited.

Mr. Woo Chien-chuan, of boxing fame displayed a classic in boxing to the delight of the audience.  A number of guests, who are experts in the art, were also invited to play Mr. K. C. Chee’s sword-playing, Mr. V. M. Chen’s boxing, and Mr. Yeh’s sword-playing, [and] a duel were most favorably appreciated by the audience.

Boxing and sword-playing were also exhibited by girl members whose efficiency in the art surpasses all present.

The program was then concluded with a musical program.

“Physical Exhibition Held Last Night by Chinese Athletes.” The China Press. Aug. 26, 1928. p. A2

Give Me Those Old Time Kung Fu Villains

 

 

Introduction

Antagonists seem to be the critical ingredient that make the martial arts possible. Yet to understand why that is the case we need to start by unpacking a few things.  An immense range of activities fall within the category that we term “martial arts,” so much so that simply defining the term is much more challenging than one might expect.  Still, all of these activities are essentially social pursuits.  The martial arts are really more about the pedagogy and the discussion of violence than its actual performance.  Indeed, the quality of some isolated hermit’s technique cannot make them a martial artist.  At a bare minimum they must be willing to pass that skill along, or perform it for others, before the label really applies.

This raises a few obvious questions.  Why should one desire to be a in a community that practices or passes on these skills?  What is the ultimate utility or meaning of these techniques?  Or to put the question rather crassly, are the varied benefit of practicing a given martial art worth the time, cost and effort necessary to do so?

It should surprise no one that all sorts of martial arts have formulated their own answers to these types of questions.  I sometimes think that indoctrinating students into their unique world view is just as important as the actual transmission of techniques.  Indeed, it is an open question in my mind as to whether the martial arts, as a social and cultural construction, can even exist without some sort of world defining narrative.

Psychologists have noted that telling stories is one of the most basic ways in which humans understand, and attempt to interact, with our world.  In fact, narrative seems to be key to how we as a species understand the process of causation in the world around us.  Sadly, there is less evidence that the physical world that we seek to understand is structured in this way.  Hence our theories and stories about the world, while certainly useful, always reveal some aspect of reality with one hand, as they hide certain things with the other.  To tell stories is human, but it may not be the best way to understand quantum mechanics.

On the other hand, paying close attention to the stories that people tell may be absolutely critical when our goal is understanding the functions of the voluntary communities that individuals create.  This is critical as not all groups, organizations or styles are attempting to do the same thing.  Not all fighting styles claim to do the same work, or provide the same social and personal benefits.

Students of martial arts studies thus require a number of discursive keys capable of opening the door to a more serious and sustained comparative study of these functions.  Sadly, the comparative method is not commonly seen within martial arts studies.  Yet such studies might help us to understand why, at a given point in time, individuals are drawn to one martial art versus another. Or why do some types of martial practice thrive in a given social or economic setting, yet struggle in another?

 

Weapons confiscated in Chinatown, New York City, 1922. This haul shows a remarkable mixture of modern and traditional weapons. Source: NYPD Public Records.

 

Nothing is More Useful than a Bad Guy

This sort of positivist research generally begins when researchers sit down and begin to measure things. Typically, one will start with the martial artists themselves.  You might collect data on their age, race or gender.  Other socio-economic indicators can be gleaned through formal surveys or participant observation.  One might conduct interviews, sample social media posts or examine their physical performance in public demonstrations or fights.  Anything that can be observed can be quantified and fed into a statistical model of human behavior.

That is all great.  Indeed, my earlier research relied quite heavily on data crunching and “large-N” analysis (granted, at the time I was more interested in the behavior of political parties and nation states than martial artists).  Yet some of the things that are most useful for adding nuance to comparative analysis might, at first, be a little less obvious. For instance, when you walk into the average martial arts school, it is highly unlikely that anyone will self-identify as the resident villain. Yet such a figure is critical to understanding how the community functions.

This can often be seen in way that individuals discuss their styles. A good Kung Fu story is mostly a normatively loaded narrative about conflict which tends to identify one set of actors with positive social traits (or traits that are understood to be “good” in this situation) and another set of individuals or forces with negative ones.  John Christopher Hamm has done a wonderful job of exploring the way in which the literary imaginings of these conflicts have evolved in the sorts of Wuxia fiction produced in Southern China. Late 19thcentury novels valorized the sorts of feuding between neighboring clans and villages that characterized much of Southern Chinese life.  In contrast, Jin Yong’s much later novels reflected the larger scale struggle to control the “central plains” in an era when many of his readers had (like his protagonists) fled into exile.

Both folklore (the burning of the Shaolin temple by the Manchus) and film (Bruce Lee’s perpetual struggle against the markers of racial injustice and imperialism), offer a wide range of antagonists for our consideration.  Indeed, film studies scholars are correct in noting that the sorts of villains that films present, from the fear of brainwashing in the Cold War to the distrust of social and political institutions in the wake of Vietnam, can tell us a good deal about a society’s values and preoccupations.

Comparing the sorts of villains that appear in two different genera of martial arts films (say, the current run of John Wick stories, and Hong Kong Wuxia films of the 1960s) would doubtless be an informative, rewarding and enjoyable exercise.  A scaled down version of this might even make a great blog post.  Yet ultimately these films are meant to appeal to a general audience.  While they are certainly watched by some martial artists, they are primarily reflective of larger social trends.

Again, what would be most interesting would be the comparative case study.  How do the smaller scale narratives produced within the martial arts community, for its own exclusive consumption, reflect or contradict these larger sets of social anxieties?  Again, this is where we in martial arts studies might leverage our villains to collect some valuable insights about the varieties of social work performed by different types of martial arts communities.  After all, I am not sure that there is any reason to expect that the stories told in an MMA gym and the children’s Taekwondo gym across the street would share the same sorts of oppositional figures.

 

The Shaolin Temple, home to countless theories on the origins of the Chinese martial arts. Source: Wikimedia.

Construction the Loyal Opposition

In purely methodological terms, how might we identify the sources of rhetorical opposition within a given community? This process will vary depending on a variety of factors, but let us begin by considering something fairly familiar, the Wing Chun community.  What becomes immediately apparent is that there are actually many different sorts of overlapping villains whose image and memory students are forced to struggle with. So let’s start at the beginning.

Every webpage, how-to book and introductory seminar seems to involve some variant of the Wing Chun creation myth which typically revolves around two key antagonists.  First, one must come to terms with the Manchu government which burned the Shaolin Temple, representing a sort of structural, almost metaphysical, evil.  Then there is the question of the marketplace bully whom Yim Wing Chun must fight to preserve her marriage prospects.

Interpreting these stories in an early 20thcentury Cantonese context is not difficult.  The first narrative evokes nationalist themes with the Manchu’s being a stand-in for various other foreign oppressors who are seen as being responsible for the chaos of the Republic period (in practice this was mostly the Japanese and the British).  Meanwhile, the story of the marketplace bully is both a cautionary tale about misdirected internal opposition within the realm of Rivers and Lakes, and an object lesson in the strategic principals that will allow the Wing Chun student to overcome China’s international and structural opponents.

Deciding what it all means when these stories are translated into a Western cultural context, one in which we are not worried about Japanese imperialism in Shanghai and the Manchus have no particular cultural significance, is a much more difficult task. Given the frequency with which these stories are repeated, they must mean something to the global population of Wing Chun students. They certainly seem to serve as shared signifiers of the cultural authenticity of one’s projects.  Yet a variety of listeners have projected feminist interpretations onto Yim Wing Chun’s narrative, or concocted political readings of the conflict with the Qing, which would probably have greatly surprised Kung Fu students in the Pearl River Delta during the 1920s.  One does not need to be a critical theorist to acknowledge that most texts can be interpreted in a varity of different ways.

While these stories are perhaps the most widely told within the Wing Chun community, they are not the only ones that are potentially revealing for the martial arts studies researcher.  We might, for instance, decide to conduct personal interviews.  I will never forget a conversation that I once had with two of my Wing Chun students, both old school karate guys who were a good deal older than me.  Somehow the discussion turned towards the ways that casual social violence (things like barfights) had changed and largely disappeared from America’s public spaces after the 1980s.

Both of these individuals were from a large rustbelt city, and both began to reminisce fondly on the frequent bar fights that they used to get into.  They immediately told a number of stories about how martial arts students from “their neighborhood” would get into fights with African American martial artists from a couple of other local schools.  As the stories progressed it became clear that these were actually narratives about attempting to control a changing neighborhood recast as stereotypical martial arts tales.  It became increasingly clear that when these gentlemen training in either kung fu or karate they were remembering a very specific set of opponents from their youth. Accepting this fact is critical to understanding the very specific social functions that these fighting systems served in a number of American cities during the 1970s and 1980s.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about these conversations was how upfront the two gentlemen were about the sorts of violence that they had perpetrated and also feared.  It was an eye-opening experience for someone who was still relatively new to the field of martial arts studies.  But in thinking about the incident it occurred to me that there are many less obvious ways in which these sorts of tales are told.

The classic “how to” books and articles which sustained the martial arts publishing industry for decades are interesting in that they contained all sorts of visual reenactments of imagined violence.  Often the two fighters are randomly selected students dressed in the same school uniforms. But in a number of other cases greater budgets or imaginations allowed for a more direct visual construction of the imagined villain.  Turn of the century photographs depicting the gentlemanly art of Bartitisu displayed a clear sense of class anxiety by so often portraying attackers as stereotypic muggers, mashers and tramps.  On the other hand, German literature on Wing Chun in the 1970s and 1980s often took as its “loyal opposition” students of the other Asian martial arts (e.g., Karate or Taekwondo).  The anxiety it responded to was not random street crime (or growing income inequality). Rather, the concern was to demonstrate that in a battle between skilled opponents (both of whom would show up wearing the proper uniforms), your arsenal of skills of would prevail.

When thinking of the social conditions that generated these two cases, it is probably significant that the first style persistently pictured its attackers as socio-economic “others,” while the second system constructed a discursive system around a more recreational model of self-defense training.  This was a world in which the fundamentally similar martial artists who inhabited a rather crowded marketplace might fight for honor.  Or barring that, certain sorts of magazine illustrations might help to reinforce one’s belief that their time and money had been invested in the proper sort of martial arts school.

 

Ip Man relaxing in his apartment. Source: Ip Ching’s collection.

 

Conclusion: The Embodied Fear

All of this is helpful, and it makes more of an art’s underlying narrative visible to the researcher. Indeed, the subconscious inflections and biases which emerge out of magazines, postcards, webpages and social media videos may be more helpful to researchers precisely because they are not interviews. The fact that we are so often unaware of how we subtly frame these more technical stories means that the resulting process may more accurately reflect the sort of work that we are actually expecting a given martial art to do.

Still, there is another level of storytelling that occurs within every martial arts system.  It lays even deeper than the popular media, creation myths, or ephemera. It is expressed within the realm of embodied technique itself.

While the human body is always the same, there seems to be no end to the variety of fighting systems that surround us.  This variety is the result of many factors.  At the most basic level not all martial arts have the same goal.  Some Chinese arts are systems of individuals self-defense (Wing Chun) while others may have been developed with an eye toward coordinated small unit military combat (the pole work of General Yu Dayou’s Sword Classic comes to mind.) Sometimes the goal of a public performance is victory in a highly competitive combat sport, while in other cases a practitioner might seek to entertain guests at a wedding or festival.

Yet even these large scale distinctions cannot explain all of the variations in the styles and approaches to combat that we see.  Systems with similar goals might still have different sets of assumptions about how a fight is likely to proceed, and what sorts of skill are most important.  Indeed, I am often struck by the fact that on an abstract level so many southern Chinese martial arts share a wide range of techniques.  Yet they differ markedly in terms of their pedagogy and strategic assumptions.  Taken as a whole, this embodied knowledge also reveals a narrative with its own set of villain(s) which may be quite useful to the practitioner.

Consider the question of grappling within Wing Chun. It is untrue that traditional Wing Chun has no grabs, locks and throws.  Indeed, I was even trained in a minimal amount of ground work.  But rather than attempting to wrestle and submit my opponent almost all of this was directed towards disentangling myself and being able to get back on my feet as quickly as possible.  Indeed, much of the short range fighting in Wing Chun (including the afore mentioned locks and throws) seem focused on maintaining one’s ability to continue to strike and move once someone has attempted to grab you.

All of this reflects a single tactical preoccupation within the Wing Chun system.  It is extremely concerned with the likely presence of multiple attackers. In these sorts of situations, one could very easily win a battle on the ground, yet lose the war.  In thinking about the history of the art, it is not difficult to understand where this preoccupation came from.  As a plain-clothes detective in Foshan, Ip Man was likely involved in the arrest of both violent criminal and suspected communists.  During the final years of the Chinese civil war, this later group of individuals were typically tortured and killed at the end of the interrogation process.  The Communist Party did not let these murders go unanswered. Its agents also put together teams that snatched various enemies of the party and treated them in broadly similar ways.  In short, when Ip Man was informed that he had been added to a Communist hitlist in 1949 he probably wouldn’t have had any reason to doubt the assertion.  This was a reality that all of Guangdong’s police and intelligence officers were quite familiar with.

Why then is Ip Man’s Wing Chun so focused on the possibility of multiple attacker scenarios?  I would humbly suggest that the answer might be that the thing which he (and an entire generation of other practitioners) most feared was being abducted by a hit squad comprised of three to four highly trained individuals driving a Packard.  Avoiding being grabbed and thrown into said Packard was the key to not being tortured to death in the back room of a safehouse somewhere in Guangzhou.

Granted, this is a very specific, historically bounded, fear.  It is interesting to speculate as to whether Leung Jan’s Wing Chun had the same tactical emphasis on multiple attackers.  If it did, perhaps he might have been more interested in the sorts of small unit fighting that period militia members were expected to train for, rather than the world of law enforcement and politically motivated killings that had colonized Ip Man’s imagination by 1949.

It is interesting to me how many of these half-forgotten tactical doctrines remain embodied in a wide range of martial arts.  But as we think about the layers of antagonists that each system presents, in its media representations, in its oral folklore, and even in its bodily habits, we may become more conscious of these villains.  Better understanding this imagined opposition can help us to not only understand what these systems were in the past, but to make more informed choices about how we interact with them, and what they might still become in the future.

 

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If you enjoyed this reflection on villainy you might also want to read: Martial Values, Social Transformation and the Tu Village Dragon Dance

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The Research Expedition: What is the Value of Short Duration Study?

A vintage french postcard showing military uniforms from various Asian countries. Source: Author’s personal collection.

 

A New Hoplology

Over the last few weeks I have been thinking quite a bit about what hoplology was and what it might yet become. What were the advances and shortcoming of this field’s previous incarnations, both prior to the First World War and during the Donn F. Draeger era?  My own involvement with the quickly growing field of martial arts studies, now institutionalized in the form of grants, conferences, peer reviewed journals and dedicated book series, has made me curious about such things.  Why exactly did the field of anthropology seem to lose interest in the subject (at least as a cohesive literature) following WWI? Why did Draeger’s renewed efforts, while inspiring much popular enthusiasm, never find a place in academia? And what precisely can students of martial arts studies learn from all of this regarding the birth and growth of scholarly fields?

While problematic in a number of ways, there was also much about the older hoplological tradition that was very interesting, and even admirable.  While martial arts studies has made great strides in establishing the notion that these practices can, and indeed must, be examined through a variety of theoretical lenses, I am sometimes surprised that we have shown little interest in engaging the more material and technical aspects of hand combat.  Only a handful of articles in our journal have sought to record and provide a detailed analysis of actual techniques.  Embodiment is a theoretical concept that is often discussed in the abstract, but only rarely is the hard data presented to the reader.

Likewise, there has been almost no discussion of the material culture that is so central to most individual’s lived experience of the martial arts?  Where did the now ubiquitous “Wing Chun Dummy” actually come from, and how has it managed to spread itself across so many other styles in the last decade?  Would recent advances in the fields of history and critical theory allow us to say anything new about the development of the ubiquitous white training uniforms and colored belts that the Japanese introduced to the global martial arts?  What exactly happens to a non-Japanese system when these foreign artifacts begin to colonize the imagination of a new generation of students? Why are there no studies of the various phases of the standardization and evolution of the Chinese jian (or even the dadao) in late imperial and Republican China?

While it is easy to criticize aspects of the older hoplological tradition, or perhaps salvage ethnography as a whole, no one could never claim that these fields neglected the connection between material culture and the lived social experience.  This is critical as the material goods that we consume, the weapons, media, uniforms and ephemera, often testify to a set of values and social functions that support martial arts practice on a deep level that most of us perceive only dimly.

Nor did the older generation of hoplologists shy away from the topic of social violence.  Over the last two years both Paul Bowman and I have called, in different settings, for a more sustained investigation of the relationship between martial practice and the experience of violence in the modern world.  In general, I think it is a good thing that so many martial arts studies researchers are also students of hand combat.  Yet this can also work against us.  There is a natural tendency to “write what you know.”  Gratefully, most (though not all) scholars are able to work and train in environments where the actual threat of physical violence is rare.  But that has not historically been true for the world’s martial artists.  And even when we are aware of these things, there is a tendency to play down or ignore some of the darker aspects of modern martial arts practice.

While discussing this topic with Prof. Swen Koerner, he noted that all sorts of sociologists are interested in projects related to how the practice of the martial arts contribute to good social outcomes. Yet we have tended to ignore their correlations with violent or anti-social behavior.  When we disregard this, we may save ourselves a degree of embarrassment (or maybe cognitive dissonance), but we also miss an opportunity to discover the many ways that hand combat practices intersect with the realm of social violence.  Yet this was precisely the territory that individuals like Burton and Malinowski explored in the late 19thand early 20thcenturies.

Is there room for a “new hopology?”  And what purpose would such a literature serve?  What would its relationship be to the traditional disciplines, and to the growing field of martial arts studies?

Such questions are impossible to answer in a single blog post.  Indeed, they cannot be answered by a single researcher.  If we have learned anything in martial arts studies it is that the creation of a field is by definition an experiment in applied sociology. One certainly hopes that a new hoplology would address some of the intellectual and social shortcomings of its predecessors.  Beyond that, for reasons that I will touch on below, I think it would have to be grounded in rigorous theoretical and methodological discussions.  Finally, by both tradition and necessity, the new hoplology would probably be an empirically oriented wing of martial arts studies, dedicated to the collection and comparative study of interpersonal combative behavior and culture.  Beyond that it is hard to say much at all.

This is not to imply that the earlier hoplologists never advanced theoretical or conceptual models.  They certainly did.  Yet I think their greatest achievement was in building databases of information that essentially captured a single cultural snapshot in time that would forever be available to future scholars looking to test whatever theories they had.  A new hoplology could certainly make important contributions to the overall growth of martial arts studies by carefully gathering comparative data focused on the material and technical aspects of martial culture, as well as the many unique local experiences of social violence.

 

Moro weapons. Vintage Postcard.

 

The Research Expedition

Nevertheless, it is one thing to state that the new hoplology might be an empirically driven pursuit, it is quite another to narrow down the range of investigations that we are likely to see.  Historical research in the archives, the collection of large-N datasets using on-line surveys, and the writing of “thick descriptions” of culture via participant observation are all equally “empirical” paths. Indeed, it is quite possible to imagine each of these methods being employed in hoplology projects. Draeger encouraged a myriad of students to spend years intensively training with specific ryu in postwar Japan. Likewise, Malinowski and his students sought to collect textual archives and museums full of artifacts to enlighten future generations of researchers.  Like martial arts studies, hoplology, in actual practice, seems to have always been deeply interdisciplinary (and in its more amateur forms, pre-disciplinary).

All of these methods of data collection are seen in a number of other fields and their possibilities and limitations are relatively well understood. It sometimes seems that I spent my entire graduate school career doing nothing other than debating the relative merits of historical vs. large-N research, and how best to leverage various empirical approaches when dealing with different types of theoretical frameworks.

Yet there is one specific research method which seems to have become hoplology’s hallmark, and it is much less well understood.  What can be accomplished by short term research expeditions carried out by teams of individuals who, while possibly highly trained, tend to be non-specialists in the geographic or cultural areas that they seek to explore?

Perhaps that last sentence undersells the challenges that such expeditions face.  Let us rephrase the question more succinctly.  What do we really expect a bunch of academics who have just stepped off an airplane to be able to learn about a new set of martial arts in a short period of time (anywhere from a single week to perhaps a couple of months)?  Can such an exercise ever constitute “serious research,” or will it always amount to an intellectualized version of the sorts of martial arts themed package vacations that have become so popular in the last few years?

I suspect that many readers will have no problem coming up with reasons why the utility of short duration expeditions will be limited. At the most obvious level one is unlikely to master a foreign language, culture, or even a nuanced system of etiquette, in only a few weeks.  This will impact both your ability to interact with local martial artists and one’s capacity to gather data.  In the short term it, may even be difficult to determine what data one should be collecting.  The sorts of puzzles that arise when thinking about a martial practice that one has practiced for two weeks are qualitatively different from instances where one has studied the material for a few years.  And while it is possible to establish friendships in only a few weeks’ time, the quality of those relationships is simply not the same as what comes with daily interaction over a period of years.

There are many good reasons why anthropologists traditionally looked down on this sort of research. A senior professor of the discipline here at Cornell recently confessed to me his disappointment that so few graduate students have the funding or inclination to spend a few continuous years in the field as part of their professional training.  In his view this massive investment of time not only led to richer, more insightful, descriptive data.  It was the transformative initiation that produced his field’s professional ethos. It was the process by which anthropology students were turned into anthropologists.  It was a matter of great concern for him that so many graduate students split their fieldwork into three-month chunks, or only studied groups that never require them to go into “the real field” at all.

While the development of hoplology may have had important early connections with anthropology, it goes without saying that not all students of martial arts studies are attempting to write classical ethnographies. So once again, what might be achievable in short duration research expeditions given the obvious limitations of the exercise?

 

A display of spears and matchlocks at himaji castle, Japan. These weapons dominated the 17th century Japanese battlefield. Photo Courtesy of the Himeji Castle Visitors Webpage.

 

Three Possibilities

I think that there are at least three possibilities that deserve consideration, and their utility to any individual researcher may be a function of both their disciplinary background and theoretical orientation.  First, while it is true that most martial arts studies scholars do not do ethnography, anthropologists do seem to be overrepresented in the rather small group of scholars who continue to be interested in hoplology.  Wondering how they might make the best use of their time I decided to interview my own father on the subject, who is also a cultural anthropologist and a strong supporter of “old school” ethnography.

After listening to me lay out the basic structure of a hypothetical hoplological expedition he noted that, no matter what someone like him says in a “Classics of Ethnography” lecture, in truth many anthropologists do a great deal of work-related short-term travel.  He further noted that every long-term stint of field research goes through progressive phases, each of which are important and yield their own sort of data and level of understanding. Learning to get the most out of these first few weeks or months can make a big difference to the success of a long-term project.  There was no reason why, in his view, such expeditions could not be treated as “pilot projects” dedicated to making initial contacts and gaining a degree of understanding of the local martial culture that would make the next visit to the area both possible and profitable.

Given the realities of the current funding process, most research is now produced through multiple short expeditions, and so figuring out how to set up the next phase of research is always vital.  Additionally, he noted that such travel was actually important for more senior researchers as, by building their network of professional contacts, they could identify research opportunities for the next generation of graduate students.  While intensive participant observation is not really possible in short duration studies, they might still be valuable as a pilot projects to identify future ethnographic opportunities.

Of course there are other approaches to understanding short duration research.  The empirical data generated by ethnography is descriptive and qualitative in nature.  Yet the social sciences (fields like sociology, political science or economics) tend to focus on the creation, and testing, of causal theories.  To vastly oversimplify, rather than treating culture or a society as a literary text to be interpreted, they seek to understand which constellations of material, structural, strategic and discursive variables lead to specific, observable, outcomes. Even as the humanities and (American) anthropology have moved away from such approaches, the emphasis on investigating causal explanations through positivist research methods have grown within much of the social sciences.

Nor is this necessarily a bad thing if we are contemplating the development of a “new hoplology.” A positivist orientation would allow researchers to develop and test a wide range of theories regarding the evolution of basic martial structures through either focused comparative case studies or the creation of larger datasets. Sadly, we have yet to see much in the way of sustained comparative research within martial arts studies. And topics that have been central to hoplology, such as the evolution of weapons, or the causes of certain types of social violence, may be particularly amenable to these research strategies.

None of this means that social scientists can, or should, indulge in a sort of naïve empiricism.  I think that this is a common misconception about how this sort of research works.  A short duration research expedition is a great opportunity to gather rich troves of data. Both training and performance can be photographed and filmed.  Masters, students and supporting community members can interviewed.  One can investigate the economic and political institutions that uphold such practices.  Journals can be distributed to allow local practitioners to record their media consumption habits. There is actually much that one can do in a few weeks. But given the temporal constraints of short duration research, any researcher is going to be forced to prioritize these things. That means that they must have a clear idea of exactly what sorts of hypotheses they might want to test, and what sort of data will be of the most use to future researchers.  In other words, extensive causal theories must be developed and submitted to initial “plausibility probes” before anyone ever sets foot on an airplane. And those causal stories are likely to be the most meaningful when they build off of, and take into account, the basic concept that arise from the various philosophical schools of critical theory.

Whereas an anthropological approach might see short duration research as the very first step of a much longer process, within a social scientific framework, heading out into the field to gather data usually comes in the middle (or even toward the end) of a project.  It is this logic of discovery that forces social scientists to begin by thinking about theory.  That doesn’t mean one might not discover that a new causal story (or theoretical framework) will be necessary when you sit to analyze your hard-won data.  As all of us who work in this area can attest, that happens with some frequency.  But even that sort of “negative finding” is an incredibly important aspect of the research process and should not be confused with naïve empiricism.

The great advantage of such a data intensive, social-scientific, approach is that it allows for the construction of comparative case studies in which more general hypotheses about martial arts development, or social violence, can be compared across a variety of groups or even regions of the world.  In the best-case analysis this might lead to the development of “covering laws.”  I suspect that such a discovery would have thrilled old school hoplologists.

The obvious disadvantage to such a research strategy, however, is a subtle shift in focus.  The data that we collect in our expedition is now geared to reveal more about our theories of human behavior in the abstract than the specific practices of a given community at a single point in time.  One assumes that the “thick description” of participant observation would always address those realities better.  Yet that is a process that inevitably takes time.  Once again, martial arts studies researchers will need to think carefully about their basic goals long before they ever design a research project and set foot in the field.

Finally, it is worth considering who will be responsible for making these decisions.  Much of the preceding discussion has assumed that it is a single researcher headed into the field as that is what reflects my personal experience.  Yet one of the things that I find most interesting about the classic hoplological expedition is that they were undertaken by entire teams of researchers. That implies a much greater scope for potential specialization.

While everyone on a research team might bring their own martial arts background, members could be selected to represent a variety of disciplinary and methodological perspectives.  A research trip to Southern Taiwan might include a researcher looking at social marginality, another who specialized in traditional medicine, an ethnomusicologist and a media studies specialist. Each of these individuals might be tasked with collecting data and testing a set of distinct hypotheses which all spoke to a larger set of theoretical propositions regarding the Southern Chinse martial arts in relation to any number of factors (globalization, social transformation, fictive kinship, the echoes of imperialism, etc…).

It is not hard to imagine the ways in which such a team might generate important synergies within their collective investigation.  And if each of these researchers were to spend only a month in the field, they might generate a body of cultural insight that a single researcher working in isolation might take years to match.

As always there are dangers.  One would need to guard against the emergence of “group think” or the fostering of potentially blinding ethnocentric attitudes among a small group of relatively homogenous researchers.  Still, teams could also be constructed to bring a greater variety of perspectives and life experience than any one researcher could ever hope to possess.

 

An assortment of “Long Leaf” Nepalese Military Kukri from the author’s personal collection.

Conclusion

It is difficult to say what a new hoplology might be, and whether such a thing could make unique contributions to the development of martial arts studies.  It would certainly be nice to have a group of scholars dedicated to the careful construction of empirically rich case studies and datasets which might, in turn, inspire the creation of new research questions.  And I personally would welcome a more sustained (and theoretically informed) investigation of the weapons and material culture that so many modern martial artists seem to fetishize. I suspect that the field as a whole could only benefit from these efforts.

This is not to say that there were not problematic elements within the older hoplological tradition, or issues that would have to be addressed before any attempt to resurrect the label within a modern academic framework could move forward.  Yet I do not believe that the classic hoplological expedition is one of these problems.  We would certainly want to avoid anything that smacks of amateurism or naïve empiricism. Yet from my perspective as a social scientist, such exercises might finally facilitate the emergence of a body of detailed, theoretically informed, comparative studies.  That is a very exciting possibility for researchers who are interested in explaining causality or unraveling the functions of social structures.  And even those individuals who are more focused on ethnographic approaches might find such short duration, highly focused, research opportunities useful as pilot projects opening the way for more sustained participant observation in the future.

There are likely good reasons why prior attempts to create something like martial arts studies failed to find a foothold in the academy.  And if a new hoplology were to succeed, I suspect that it would be quite different from the projects that Draeger or Burton imagined.  Yet short duration research expeditions constructed around the research interests of teams of specialists almost certainly have much to contribute to the field.

 

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If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: Martial Arts Studies: Answering the “So What?” Question

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Chinese Martial Arts in the News: January 20th 2019: Jingwu, Chinese Armor and Liberating the Nunchuck

A Chinese historical reenactor in traditionally inspired armor. Source: Sixthtone.

 

Introduction

Its been over a month since our last news update, which means that there is no better time to get caught up on recent events! For new readers, this is a semi-regular feature here at Kung Fu Tea in which we review media stories that mention or affect the traditional fighting arts.  In addition to discussing important events, this column also considers how the Asian hand combat systems are portrayed in the mainstream media.

While we try to summarize the major stories over the last month, there is always a chance that we may have missed something.  If you are aware of an important news event relating to the TCMA, drop a link in the comments section below.  If you know of a developing story that should be covered in the future feel free to send me an email.

Its been way too long since our last update so let’s get to the news!

 

 

News From All Over

True story.  While hanging out with with the guys at my university martial arts club in Japan, it was a constant point of fascination that while I was allowed to own all manner of firearms (most which were strictly prohibited in Japan), several traditional Japanese martial arts weapons, including nunchucks, were illegal where I lived. Being a resident of New York State (and not a student of traditional karate), I have never actually owned a set of nunchucks.  But maybe its finally time for that to change!

A federal court recently struck down the state’s ban on these weapons as unconstitutional and declared them to be covered under the Second Amendment.  Various news outlets have reported on how this ruling came about, but I liked the coverage over at Bloody Elbow.

Last month Judge Pamela K. Chen of the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of New York ruled that New Yorkers have a constitutional right to own nunchucks. The ruling comes after James A. Maloney, a lawyer and nunchucks enthusiast, launched a complaint over the state’s 40-year ban on the traditional martial arts weapon in 2003.

According to The New York Times New York decided to criminalize nunchucks in 1974 while the “United States was in the middle of a kung fu fever” inspired by martial arts movies.

At some point I am probably going to write a blog post on all of this.  Obviously the weapon came to be strongly associated with Bruce Lee, and I feel that its subsequent ban reveals a darker side to the “Kung Fu Fever” of the 1970s.  More specifically, news reports of the era were quick to point out that African-American and Hispanic youth joined various martial arts groups in huge numbers. Given the racial, social and political subtexts of Bruce Lee’s films, the sudden popularity of hand combat systems among young men of color made many authority figures uneasy.  Everyone from school teachers to politicians had something to say about his phenomenon.  The ban on these weapons makes more sense (historically speaking) when viewed through a racial and generational lens.  But I need to read and think a little more about this before jumping into a more detailed discussion of that episode.  In the mean time, I should probably just decide what type of nunchuck needs to be added to my collection.  I have certainly seen some interesting flails in old Chinese photographs….

 

 

One place that you are unlikely to ever run across a set of nunchucks is in a Wing Chun class. But that is ok as, according to this review in the South China Morning Post, Wing Chun offers many benefits to the perpetually stressed, always on the go, young professional.  Basically, “mindfulness practice” is key to not getting hit in the face.

That brings us to one of the most interesting aspects of this article.  The author finds it necessary to provide a “trigger warning” and lets readers know that there is a lot of two-person drilling in Wing Chun, so if you decide to go to a class you need to be ok having a certain amount of physical contact with strangers.  If this bothers you, then “you should bring a friend.”

I began to wonder whether the author might actually have been more comfortable in a class on the Taijiquan solo forms as I read this article. Indeed, I felt as though she was attempting to push Wing Chun in that direction as I contemplated her first impressions of the practice.  This is a valuable reminder of the gap that often exists between hardcore martial arts enthusiasts and the new students who we are always trying to attract to our schools. While so many of us are looking for greater levels of “realism” (e.g., bodily conflict) in our training and sparring, its well worth remembering that these sorts of aspirations don’t fit within a large segment of the population’s mental map of the martial arts.  They are dealing with a very different set of “discomfort thresholds.”

 

Personally, I would be much more concerned if my martial arts class involved “incidental contact” with any sort bovine, rather than a human training partner.  Chinese bullfighting, which leapt into the popular press during the autumn of 2018, is still managing to keep itself in the news.  This recent story in NPR is of interest as it includes some discussion of how bullfighters (wrestlers?) are trained and the competitive structure of their shows  All of this explained by the performers themselves with invocations of “the explosive power of hard qi gong” and meditations on Chinese masculinity.

 

 

A theoretical lens for approaching the recent bullfighting phenomenon might be found in the scholarly literature on public spectacles.  I suspect that it could also provide a certain amount of analytical purchase on our next story as well.  The Fox Sports desk has been running a number of martial arts features recently.  Their most recent offering is modestly titled the “5 most unbelievable Chinese martial arts techniques of all time.

The article itself is basically background commentary on video clips featuring five distinct styles.  They portray a range of both traditional and more modern practices.  I don’t think a long-time student of the Chinese martial arts is going to learn anything new here, but the clips might be useful as an illustration of the sorts of material that the general public finds interesting.

 

 

One of the more important articles in this news roundup, titled “Honoring ancestors in old boxing tradition,” was published at Shine.com (the Shanghai Times).  It profiles Huo Jinghong, the great-great granddaughter of Huo Yuanjia (1868-1910) and the “inheritor” of his lianshouquan style. What makes it so interesting is that the further you read, the more complicated all of this becomes. Like all Chinese, university level, martial arts coaches, Huo’s background (and first love) is actually the performative disciplines of modern Wushu.  Her family never taught her Huo Tuanjia’s lianshouquan (or any other traditional art) as they had stopped practicing it during the Cultural Revolution (and possibly before).  In actual fact, she seems to be researching and reconstructing the style as much as anything else.

Yet the popular discourse around her efforts insists on emphasizing her genetic relatedness to Huo Yuanjia and concepts such as transmission and inheritance.  Much of her efforts in this area also appears to be rooted in (or at least inspired by) a couple of big government backed projects to promote Huo Yuanjia’s memory (and the historic Jingwu movement more broadly) for political and economic purposes.  In reading this article I felt like I had come across a short case study in how these sorts of public diplomacy and economic development projects take root in, and eventually restructure, the identities and practices of various individuals.

Her enduring connection with celebrated ancestor Huo Yuanjia restarted in late 2014, when she was asked to shoot a video to display lianshouquan. It was actually the first time that she learned the routine of the ancient boxing art.

“Lianshouquan had long been forgotten in the family,” she said. “My father learned a bit when he was a child but was stopped by my grandfather Huo Yating.”

Huo Yating’s decision was aimed at protecting the family during the “cultural revolution” (1966-76). His father, Huo Dongge (1895-1956), the second son of Huo Yuanjia and the major inheritor of the boxing art form, moved to Southeast Asia in the 1920s and never came back. Such an “overseas connection” could have spelled disaster for the entire family during the “cultural revolution,” so the family kept a low profile away from martial arts.

 

To really understand Huo Jinghong’s profile, it should probably be read in the context of another article (also published in Shine.com) titled “Martial arts fans mark Chin Woo master’s 150th birthday in Shanghai.”  While much more general in nature, it suggests something about the scope of the efforts to promote the city (and tourism) through this aspect of its martial history.

A thousand martial arts lovers practiced traditional Chin Woo boxing in Hongkou District on Saturday to commemorate the 150th birthday of Huo Yuanjia who founded the Chin Woo Athletic Association in Hongkou in 1909.

The martial artists from both home and abroad practiced the mizong boxing at the North Bund waterfront along the Huangpu River. The martial art style is what has made Huo famous ever since the early 1900s.

The event aims to promote China’s traditional martial arts culture and highlight the spirits of the Chin Woo association such as patriotism, self-cultivation, justice and readiness to help, according to the Shanghai Chin Woo Athletic Federation, the organizer of the event.

Our next article is also worth taking some time with.  It is not an exploration of the traditional martial arts so much as an extended investigation into the emergence of armored fighting (both in the context of competitive events and historical reenactment), in China.  This reporting brings up all sorts of questions about identity and the current direction(s) of Chinese nationalism.  Its worth noting that the larger social movement that these practices seem to be most closely discursively related to is not the martial arts per se, but rather the hanfu traditional clothing movement.  Again, it may be time to brush up on the scholarly literature on public spectacle in identity construction and community formation.

Incidentally, the Chinese government is not always enthusiastic about people putting on home made armor and bashing each other with swords and maces in public places.  That is just hard to imagine…

Here is the money quote:

It’s entertaining — even comedic at times — but for Gao, bringing China’s martial past to life through real armor, combat, and historical re-enactment is a serious matter. “Only if you understand this can you understand how you came to be — how your own nation, your own people, made it to the present day,” he tells Sixth Tone in December from a Shanghai café, a stone’s throw from the video game studio where he works as an animator.

 

As always, the South China Morning Post has had some things to say about the martial arts.  Perhaps the most articulate piece was this editorial defending Xu Xiaodong’s right to make a living through fighting.  Apparently he has been criticized in Chinese social media for not just harming the reputation of traditional culture, but for being paid by fight organizers (who have started to offer huge purses to anyone who might be able to defeat Xu).  Indeed, everyone involved with these bouts appears to be paid. But the recent rhetoric echoes the traditional criticism of those who would “sell their kung fu.”  All of that seems pretty unfair to the SCMP’s columnist who notes that professional MMA fighters have a right to make a living.  Still, he does implicitly criticize Xu for only accepting challenges from individuals who are obviously inferior opponents.

But that might be about to change.  One of Xu’s upcoming challengers (an appropriately fake Shaolin monk), is an experienced fighter in the ring and might provide a more interesting contest while allowing Xu to continue his quest to debunk the “frauds” of the traditional Chinese martial arts community.

 

The next article is for those who prefer their “reality fighting” to happen on the street rather than in a ring.  It is an account of two Chinese martial artists who get the better of three Russian thieves attempting to snatch a bag from a Chinese tourist.  The moral of this story appears to be that the “Chinese tourist” you are threatening to pull a weapon on might just be an off-duty law enforcement officer.

 

 

How did Bruce Lee die?  Newsweek seems a little late to this party, but enquiring minds never seem to tire of this debate. The magazine’s webpage published an article summarizing the major theories that have arisen over the years, including some of the more medically sound ideas that have been proposed recently.  This might be a fun read for Bruce Lee fans.  Those looking for general biographical treatment can check out this recent article over at the GB Times.

 

 

Did you see Ip Man’s ten year challenge photos? I thought that was pretty clever. Apparently Donnie Yen would like to remind us that Ip Man 4 is coming soon. Incidentally, I am sure someone could turn this into a great meme.  Any takers?

 

 

 

I thought “Henan’s Snow Covered Shaolin Temple” was a better than average photo-essay. It is more focused on architecture than Kung Fu (though there is a bit of that).  Yet some of these images are striking.  Worth checking out if you are a Shaolin fan and can’t get out to train because of the snow!

 

 

If you live anywhere in New York State, not being able to get out to train might be the least of your problems.  Given the amount of snow that just fell, we will all be snowed in for a while.  Luckily TimeOut magazine has the entertainment covered.  It has just released its list of the “21 Best Kung Fu Movies Made in Hong Kong.” Given that none of us are going anywhere, we may as well grab the popcorn and boot up the streaming service of our choice.  While all quality picks, I thought this list played it pretty safe. So do you see anything that is missing?

 

 

Martial Arts Studies

The spring semester is just starting and the Martial Arts Studies community is lurching back to life.  As always, there is a lot to get caught up on.  The latest issue of MAS, packed with original research articles and reviews, has just be released.  Head on over to the Journal’s webpage to find out what is inside.

The table of contents is as follows.  (Hey, look at that.  A crack team of scholars wrote an article about the development of Wing Chun in Germany!):

 

 

 

Be sure to also check out the Martial Arts Studies YouTube channel.  The presentations from this years Bruce Lee conference have just been posted, and it looks like there is some interesting stuff.  Given that we recently discussed the classic article “Liberate Yourself from Classical Karate,” it might be fun to start with Lyn Jehu’s paper “Bruce Lee or Budo? Is the Mess Really that Classical?”

 

 

On the journal front, readers will be excited to learn that there is also a new issue of Revista de Artes Marciales Asiáticas (RAMA) with multiple English language articles.  You can see its table of contents here.

 

 

Last but not least, Greg Downey has just uploaded his paper (with Monica Dalidowicz and Paul Mason) “Apprenticeship as method: Embodied learning in ethnographic practice.”  This is a nice methods piece that will be helpful for many researchers in the field of Martial Arts Studies.  You can read it at Academia.edu.

 

 

Chinese tea set. Source: Wikimedia.

 

Kung Fu Tea on Facebook

A lot has happened on the Kung Fu Tea Facebook group over the last month.  We discussed a set of antique butterfly swords, reviewed important martial arts manuals and learned that bodily techniques from the traditional Japanese martial arts could help us in daily life. Joining the Facebook group is also a great way of keeping up with everything that is happening here at Kung Fu Tea.

If its been a while since your last visit, head on over and see what you have been missing!

 

 

 

Issue 7 of Martial Arts Studies Now Available: Wing Chun, Collectivism and Fighting Gender Stereotypes

 

We are happy to announce that the seventh issue of Martial Arts Studies is now freely available. Martial Arts Studies is the premier scholarly source for interdisciplinary work on a wide variety of topics surrounding the practice, sociology, history and media representation of the modern combat sports and traditional martial arts. Published twice yearly, we are dedicated to presenting the very best research written and reviewed by leaders in the field.

This issue begins with an editorial followed by five articles and three short reviews. Judkins and Bowman start by discussing what an “open issue,” such as this, suggests about the current state of Martial Arts Studies.  They note that the current issue stretches our discussion of the Asian martial arts in geographic terms, while also asking us to consider the many complex interactions between physical practice and identity formation.

In the first article, “The Creation of Wing Tsun – A German Case Study,” Swen Koerner, Mario S. Staller and Benjamin N. Judkins take a detailed look at the global spread of Wing Chun.  Ip Man’s immigration to Hong Kong in 1949, followed by Bruce Lee’s sudden fame as a martial arts superstar after 1971, ensured that wing chun kung fu, a previously obscure hand combat style from Guangdong Province, would become one of the most globally popular Chinese martial arts. Yet this success has not been evenly distributed. Despite its cultural and geographic distance from Hong Kong, Germany now boasts a number of wing chun practitioners that is second only to China. Their article draws on the prior work of Judkins and Nielson [2015], as well as on systems theory and local historical sources, to understand why this is the case.

Next, Kristin Behr and Peter Kuhn examine the “Key Factors in Career Development and Transitions in German Elite Combat Sport Athletes.” The purpose of their study was, through in-depth interviews, to systematically identify key factors that facilitate and constrain career development and career transitions. Their findings relate to difficulties and critical events in athletes’ attitudes toward their career development. They conclude that an athletic career is a highly complex, multi-layered, and individual process. Significant differences were found between statements of student-athletes and “sports soldiers” within the German system. Participation at senior competitions at an early age is required for a smooth transition to a world-class level.

The third research article, “Fighting Gender Stereotypes: Women’s Participation in the Martial Arts, Physical Feminism and Social Change“, by Maya Maor, explores the unique social conditions that make full-contact martial arts a fertile ground for gender subversive appropriation in terms of: 1. close and reciprocal bodily contact between men and women, 2. the need to learn new regimes of embodiment, and 3. the paradoxical effects of male dominance in the field. Maor describe two specific mechanisms through which subversive appropriation takes place: formation of queer identities and male embodied nurturance. While the first mechanism relies on women’s appropriation of performances of masculinity, the second relies on men’s appropriation of performances of femininity.

Veronika Partikova continues the ongoing discussion of martial arts and identity formation in her piece “Psychological Collectivism in Traditional Martial Arts.” Her paper offers a new perspective for viewing traditional martial arts in terms of psychology. It argues that ‘traditional’ martial arts offer physical skills, moral codes, rituals, roles, and hierarchical relationships which, taken together, creates the perfect environment for psychological collectivism. Psychological collectivism focuses on individuals and their abilities to accept the norms of an in-group, understand hierarchy, and feel interdependence or the common faith of the group. First, this paper introduces the theory of psychological collectivism and connects it with traditional martial arts known as wushu or kung fu. It argues that traditional Asian martial arts create situations strong enough to activate collectivistic attributes of self and suggests that practitioners’ mind-sets can be different within and outside of the training environment. This kind of collectivistic interaction may provide one explanation for how non-Asian practitioners function in such training environments and how the traditional Asian martial arts can work as psychosocial therapies.

The final research paper is contributed by Tim Trausch. “Martial Arts and Media Culture in the Information Era: Glocalization, Heterotopia, Hyperculture” is derived from the Editor’s Introduction to the collection Chinese Martial Arts and Media Culture: Global Perspectives  [Rowman & Littlefield International, 2018]. This volume explores how narratives and aesthetics of the martial arts genre(s) are shaped and imbued with meaning in changing social, cultural, and media arrangements. Drawing from a range of recent media texts, this introductory chapter discusses the global circulation of signs and images of (Chinese) martial arts and their engagement with alleged national, cultural, textual, generic, and media borders. It argues that these texts reflect and (re)produce three paradigms of martial arts and media culture in the information age: glocalization, heterotopia, and hyperculture. What connects these three notions is that, rather than erase difference or establish it as something substantial and dividing, they engage with difference and otherness in inclusive and transformative ways.

The issue closes with three reviews.  First, Andreas Niehaus, Leo Istas and Martin Meyer report on the “8th Conference of the German Society of Sport Science’s Committee for Martial Arts Studies.”  It took as its organizing theme “Experiencing, Training and Thinking the Body in Martial Arts and Martial Sports.” Next Spencer Bennington reflects on Udo Moening’s volume, “Taekwondo: From a Martial Art to a Martial Sport.” Finally, Qays Stetkevych provides a candid review and close reading of the recently released “Martial Arts Studies Reader” [Rowman & Littlefield. 2018].

As always, this issue is freely available on-line. Or visit our webpage to learn more about this publication and to find our call for papers.

 

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Do you still need to catch up with Issue 6 of Martial Arts Studies?  If so click here.

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Meditations on the Blade, Ultra-Modernity and the Fine Art of Self-Promotion

 

 

The Unexpected Giant

Some of the essays at Kung Fu Tea are the result of several days of careful research and thinking.  This is not going to be one of those pieces.

I started out with a great topic.  It was my goal to explore the stochastic progress of duanbing, a type of competitive short-weapon fencing, conducted with specific safety gear, which has been on the verge of “really taking off” within the TCMA community ever since the late 1920s.  As I began to assemble some articles and descriptions of the first phase of duanbing practice in the 1930s, one name just kept coming up. In fact, I ran across so many references to this individual that I just had to find out more about him.

Sadly, he has nothing to do with Chinese fencing. But Col. Voldemar Katchorovsky did make quite an impression on anyone who met him. His colorful career suggests something about the general attitudes which shaped the development of Guoshu, as well as the types of adventurous individuals, peripatetic either by choice or circumstance, who shaped the global transmission of all martial arts (both Eastern and Western) during the 19thand 20thcentury. Lastly, his career is also a valuable reminder that duanbing did not emerge in a vacuum.  It was developed at a time when both Japanese Kendo and Western foil fencing were making inroads into Chinese schools and popular culture. As I (and many others) have already noted, the development of any “local” and “traditional” practice must arise in discourse with notions such as “international” and “modern.”  Katchorovsky’s writings provide us with a very specific example of how these concepts entered discussions of martial and combative pursuits in China.

Who was V. A. Katchorovsky?  It is difficult to say with absolute certainty. As with many martial artists, we simply do not have a complete life story.  Yet a review of period newspapers reveals two competing narratives.  The first was something that Katchorovsky’s inherited.  Despite his enormous height (over seven feet), and unusual profession (fencing instructor), most people saw him primarily as a refugee, a former Russian military officer displaced by the Bolshevik Revolution.  Indeed, quite a few Russians refugees would eventually end up in China, and they seem to feature prominently as “threatening outsiders” in many kung fu legends.  Perhaps we should not be surprised that displaced individuals (many with a military backgrounds) would end up coming into contact with China’s own martial artists.

Still, Katchorovsky’s path to China was far from direct. The first mention that I can find of him comes in the form of a short article in a local paper in New South Wales, Australia. It seems that in 1924 Katchorovsky was passing through on his way to Tahiti.  Yet he was viewed as such a tragic figure that an article on his visit was necessary.

Giant Refugee

Body Guard of Murdered Czar

Melbourne, Saturday. –Penniless and physically worn, after years of intense anxiety, Artillery Colonel (W)oldemar Katchorovsky, once of the first Artillery Brigade attached to the late Czar’s Imperial Russian Life Guards, arrived in Melbourne on Wednesday.  He stands over seven feet one inch high.

Having been hounded out of his country by the Bolsheviks, Katchorovsky is on his way to Tahiti, where he will join another refugee, Colonel Basil Nik[]tine.  His fortune having been confiscated, he was obliged by necessity to travel steerage on the French liner Ville de Strassbourg.

Katchorovsky was one of the late Czar’s bodyguards.  As a refugee in Malta with the Dowager Empress Maria Deodorovna, he learned the authentic story of the death of the Royal family.

While the Royalist Generals were organizing volunteer corps in the Caucasus and Crimea, the Czat and his family were taken prisoners to Ekaterinburg, Western Siberia.  According to the Dowager Empress, his majesty was killed by the prison guard against military orders.  The rest of the family, after suffering terrible humiliation, were likewise done to death.

Katchorovsky carries with him treasured photos of himself taken with members of the royal family when holidaying in Lividia Palace in the Crimea.

Northern Star(Linsmore, NSW) 16 June 1924. Page 4.

Readers should note that this piece contains no discussion to fencing, leading me to wonder whether Katchorovsky had begun to teach. Tahiti in the 1920s, while probably lovely, would not have been my first choice of location to open a new fencing salon.  Beyond that, this article offers readers very few biographical details.  We do not learn how old Katchorovsky was, or whether he ever had a family.  Nor do we learn where he was coming from.

Like many refugees in our own era, Katchorovsky seems to have been subjected to a process of biographical flattening.  His entire life is reduced to only those elements most interesting to the paper’s readers.  One suspects that in the 1920s any number of White Russian refugees might have passed through the same area and inspired almost identical articles.  In this discursive movement Katchorovsky, as an individual, was hollowed out and reduced to a symbol of the era’s increasingly well-developed fear of Bolshevism.

 

Col. V. A. Katchorovsky as he appeared in the pages of The China Press in 1933.

 

Maitre d’Armes

Whatever business Katchorovsky had in Tahiti, he seems not to have stayed long.  In 1927 his name resurfaces in another newspaper in New South Wales.  Then in 1930 we catch a glimpse of him in Honolulu. While most of the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa was consumed with an upcoming football game against BYU, the school newspaper reported that an exhibition fencing tournament had been planned between the students of Katchorovsky and those of Cedric Wodehouse (a local instructor who had been trained in the UK).  Once the preliminary matches were finished, the student body was promised an exhibition match between the two instructors.  This was billed as a “real match between experts.”  Without digging into more detailed local historical sources, it is difficult to say how long Katchorovsky stayed in Honolulu.

In any case, he did not put down roots.  Two years later a student newspaper for the University of British Columbia (Vancouver) ran a brief notice stating that Katchorovsky had taken up residence in the area and was looking to establish a class for local university students. Any student wishing to take him up on the offer needed to hurry.  By the spring of 1933 Katchorovsky would be seeking to establish a somewhat larger presence in Shanghai.

This is the period of Katchorovsky’s career that generated the most interesting paper trail.  Between February 19-22 of 1933, he wrote a series of three, highly detailed, articles for The China Press.  Each of these sought to explain and promote Western style fencing as a desirable type of personal exercise and competitive sport. [Readers should note that, confusingly, both the second and third articles in this series are labeled as “number two,” so it is necessary to actually check the dates of publication].  Collectively these discussions seem to announce the arrival of a more prosperous stage of Katchorovsky’s teaching career.

Readers may recall The China Press was one of Shanghai’s leading English language “treaty port” papers. While the editor of this paper was Chinese, and a virtual agent of the KMT government, the China Press prided itself on its connections to the American tradition of journalism and liberal editorial slant. The paper served three audiences. Obviously, it spoke to the needs of the expatriate English speakers in Shanghai.  Yet unlike other foreign language papers, it reported extensively on Chinese political and social events.  Indeed, its ostensible foreign ownership helped the paper to skirt certain censorship regulations, and it thus also appealed to educated, English reading, Chinese citizens. Lastly, the KMT tolerated papers such as this as they hoped that they would bring news of what was happening in China (unfiltered by the always hostile Japanese newswire services) to citizens in the West.

Given this complex readership, it is significant that The China Press was unrelentingly enthusiastic about all aspects of the martial arts.  It seems to have published more stories on Chinese boxing (or “national boxing”) than any other treaty port paper.  But it also reported on judo, kendo, boxing and fencing. One suspects that someone in the editorial office took a keen interest in martial pursuits.

Still, the degree of coverage that Katchorovsky’s thoughts on fencing received seems exceptional, even by the standards of The China PressAs I mentioned in our prior discussion of Ma Liang’s New Wushu movement, certain outlets also offered their services to government officials or important individuals who sought (for a price) to promote a project that was generally in line with a paper’s editorial policy. For a few years the China Press even seems to have run an ad hoc English language public diplomacy program for the KMT.  I suspect that Katchorovsky may have entered into a similar promotional arrangement with the paper.

His first three articles, in April of 1933, were immediately followed up by another piece at the beginning of March.  This article (written by a reporter) sought to both promote fencing in general and Katchorovsky’s classes more specifically.  It noted that he had recently been hired by St. John’s University as a fencing instructor for the students. The paper proclaimed (probably incorrectly) that these were “the first Chinese [boys] to take up this typically European sport.”  It was also noted that his experience in America demonstrated that fencing was really a sport for everyone, regardless of age or gender.  A local girl’s school was also considering adding fencing classes.

Again, it is difficult to know exactly when Katchorovsky arrived in Shanghai and began teaching. But at the end of March (22nd) the China Press ran another story, probably independent of any formal advertising campaign, noting that due to the increased popularity of the sport an exhibition had been scheduled at the International Branch of the YWCA. Exactly one week later (March 30th) another unsolicited article was run reporting on the result of this social and athletic gathering.  Such stories are relatively common in the pages of The China Press.  Still, it seems that this event made a positive impression on the reporter.  Like Hawaii, the student tournament was followed by two exhibition matches in which the various coaches and organizers demonstrated other weapons and superior techniques for the crowd.

Skimming various accounts of tournaments and exhibitions, it seems that much of the fencing in Shanghai was led by, or included, Russian refugees.  Indeed, one wonders whether this was what drew Katchorovsky to the city in the first place.  His own match was against Dr. Schoenfeld.  Col. Minuchin, who coached many of the participants, is reported to have graduated from the Officers’ Fencing and Gymnasium School in Petrograd just before the outbreak of WWI in 1914.  He had been living in Shanghai for approximately five years.

All of this publicity resulted in two photographs of Col. Katchorovsky in his role as fencing instructor.  The first, published on Feb. 27th, shows a sophisticated looking individual, hair parted in the middle, sporting round glasses and a neat mustache.  He holds his trademark foil and fencing mask on his lap as he seems to look beyond the camera with a pensive gaze.  If the first image is serene, the second is slightly unsettling.  It was taken on the day of the YWCA tournament/exhibition.  Several female students sit in the front with their instructors standing behind them.  Shown at his full height, Katchorovsky towers over the others.  At first one guesses that the other coaches must have been sitting as well, but of course they are not.

The China Press revisited fencing again on October 27th with another article by Katchorovsky.  This piece quoted liberally from the Art of Fencing by Senac and Fencing by Brek in an effort to argue for the athletic, personal and somatic value of the practice.  Not to be outdone, the North China Herald also ran an article by Katchorovsky on November 7th. Unfortunately, this rehashed many of his prior points without adding much new to the discussion.  Still, in a remarkably short period of time Katchorovsky had written or been discussed in at least eight articles and received two photographic features.

That is a remarkable amount of press coverage for anyone in this period, let alone someone from the martial arts community. But his efforts paid off.  The introduction to the October China Press article noted that Katchorovsky was currently serving as Master of Arms at both the Shanghai American School and St. John’s University, while running his own fencing academy at 73 Nanking Road.

 

 

Modernity’s Knight Errant

Given the volume of material that Katchorovsky produced, it is important to ask how he (and other instructors) sought to promote fencing in the 1920s and 1930’s.  More specifically, how are the values that they sought to promote similar to, or different from, the sorts of discussions that other martial arts (especially Guoshu and Judo) were generating?  One might suppose that given his military background, Katchorovsky would be something of a traditionalist when it came to the sword. He came of age in an era when there was still an expectation that officers might have to fight with their swords. And all of that seems to fit with the more tragic and orientalist ways in which the press sought to frame his life narrative.

Yet Katchorovsky was no traditionalist.  One suspects that he would have had little tolerance for the sort of essentialist cultural rhetoric that followed Kendo. His understanding for the need for modernization and reform within the martial arts would have fit well within the more progressive currents of China’s own Guoshu movement. Note, for instance, the following excerpts from his discussion on the topic of traditionalism vs. modernity in his third article for The China Press, titled “Modern Fencing Reaches High Sate of Perfection.”

 

 

…There are so many people who have never given up the old-fashioned idea that fencing is an ancient art, graceful and beautiful to behold upon the stage. Many never think of fencing as competitive sport, which it really is—the fastest and most brilliant of all man to man sports in existence.

 Fencing progresses like everything else.  A fencing bout of two hundred years ago and a present day match have very little resemblance. Fencing today is very fast, very competitive, and a study of it gives one a deep and interesting experience in the thoughts of modern science and philosophy, such as timing, motion, space, reflex-action and counteraction, and shows one the vast differences between perception and intuition.

Suits Modern Youth

Fencing today is very modern, very athletic, very fast, sparkling and vivid, almost scientific. It should suit the modern youth to perfection.  He can still keep his identity, his individuality, be a little swaggering and devil-may care, and possibly fence better for it….

Helps Eliminate Time

I know of no other sport today which has become as ultra-modern as fencing.  In my opinion fencing develops such keenness and precision that it becomes far more mental than physical. A fencer finds that along with modern inventions, modern science and its fourth dimension, this sport goes a long way to eliminate more of the encumbering element of matter we call time.

To think is to set, i.e., when you think “thrust” your arm is already extended: when you think “lunge” your right foot hits the floor with pantherish agility.

It is especially true that in a hardfought bout between equals you are never conscious of your body.  It has ceased to exist; that is, it is no longer the tool of the mind, but becomes the mind itself.

Ultra-Modern Thrill

You lose all consciousness of self and exist as the mental qualities of speed, precision, accuracy, distance, balance, judgement or seem to exist as life and action itself.  For your time is not, and each moment of action flashes from the future into the past without the realization of its passing.

After a twenty-minute bout, whether you have won or lost, you feel that if you have not spent a second in eternity, you have least lived more vividly, more intensely during these minutes than is ordinarily lived in a week.

Thus fencing, once necessary as a means of bodily protection between the exponents of the art, has today become a new mental and physical thrill for the ultra-modern.

1933. A. Katchorovsky. “Modern Fencing Reaches High State of Perfection.” The China Press. Feb. 22 1933. Page 8.

This is one of the more interesting first-person accounts of any martial practice which I have encountered during the 1920s or 1930s. While most of Katchorovsky’s articles tend to emphasize the fully-body muscular development that fencing provides, or its utility for students seeking to lose weight, it seems clear that he was motivated by a quest for altered states of consciousness.  This article provides a very detailed account of what it is like to experience a “flow state” in weapons work.  Yet rather than seeing this as a universal psychological phenomenon, something that might occur in any number of activities, he supposed both that it is unique to fencing and its modern reforms.  Katchorovsky even points to the achievement of personal goals and individually attained altered states of consciousness as core qualities of his “ultra-modern” martial art.  Reading these passages I am left to wonder how many practitioners of combat sports in or own era might agree with him, even if they have never picked up a foil.

All of this might seem very distant from the world of Guoshu and the development of duanbing.  And, in a sense, it is.  Yet it must also be remembered that the great reforms of the 1920s and 1930s did not happen in a vacuum.  Both Jingwu and Guoshu sought, in their own way, to appropriate and respond to the discourse of modern superiority which was projected by the Western imperialist powers. That is why the “traditional” Chinese martial arts which we practice now are, in fact, a product of modernity.

 

Given his frequent discussion of the benefits of fencing for female students, and his quotes from Senac’s text, it seems only appropriate to end with this image. Source: THE ART OF FENCING BY REGINALD AND LOUIS SENAC, “PROFESSIONAL CHAMPIONS OF AMERICA,” 1915.

 

Conclusion

Of course, fencing is also modern art. Katchorovsky’s embrace (even celebration), of this fact is probably a multi-layered phenomenon. On the one hand, it may have been commercially necessary to distance fencing from its historical association with dueling if one wanted to win middle class female students. Doing so might have been more challenging than one might guess as even newspapers in China were carrying stories of duels (some carried out with sabers, others with pistols) which were still happening in France as late at the 1930s. At least some of Katchorovsky’s rhetorical efforts to carve out a space for sport fencing as a distinct modern practice, unrelated to the art’s bloody past, were probably necessary. [For a sample of what else his audience might have been reading see “Savage Duel is Fought by Paris Lawyers.” The China Press, March 10, 1935. Page 3.]

Of course, “ultra-modern” practices are by definition young, trendy and more likely to be popular with university students.  Such things are also transnational and transcultural, values that he probably felt very strongly about given his constant wandering. Undoubtedly Katchorovsky reveals something of his life experience in all of this.  Scientific rationalism and international community may have been things that he could ground his identity in after the nation-state and political ideology had failed him. He many even have seen these values as tools to push back against the socially dominant narrative that defined him solely as a refugee.

Modernity takes on a variety of meanings as we read these accounts of fencing’s brief flowering in Shanghai during the 1930s.  Yet all of this was happening in concert with larger intellectual trends and global events. Katchorovsky is a valuable remainder of the role of marginal and displaced people in the popularization and spread of modern martial practices.  Beyond that, his writings offer a particularly clear glimpse into the sorts of concepts that shaped both the development of the Guoshu movement and the modern Chinese martial arts we know today.

 

oOo

If you enjoyed this discussion of the the martial arts scene is Shanghai in the 1930s you might also want to read: Mixed Martial Arts in Shanghai, 1925

oOo

Wang Ziping and the Early Days of Wushu: Two Important Films

 

Introduction

Wang Ziping (1881-1973) was an iconic figure within the world of the Republican martial arts.  Having gained fame through his many feats of strength and public fights, the Muslim martial artist from Heibi province went on to hold important positions in the Central Guoshu Institute.  Indeed, he was one of the few Chinese martial artists ever discussed by name in the New York Times prior to the Kung Fu Craze of the 1970s.  Readers may recall that I recently wrote a brief biographical sketch of this important figure which you can review here.

Every essay must have a focus, and that piece was most concerned with the early years of Wang’s life and his contributions to the Guoshu movement.  Unfortunately, I could only touch on his remarkable “second act.”  While many important teachers fled to Taiwan, Hong Kong or South East Asia in 1949, Wang stayed in mainland China and went on to have a distinguished career both as a traditional Chinese medical practitioner and as an elder stateman of the martial arts. The Communist government would tap Wang for several important appointments and honors, all of which served to call him back into service as a supporter of the newly emerging Wushu program.

I hope to explore this later phase of Wang’s career in some of my future writings. Yet I think all would agree that the greatest honor came in 1960 when Zhou Enlai requested his presence on a state visit to Myanmar.  Here he was once again called upon to demonstrate, and to be the public face of, the Chinese martial arts.

Multiple histories have already noted the significance of this trip.  Less appreciated is the fact that in the years immediately following this expedition Wang was also used to educated English speaking Western audiences about the importance of the Chinese martial arts and their connection to the “New China.” In many respects, Wang’s role as “Kung Fu diplomat” was just getting started in 1949.  His name would appear in publications such as China Reconstructs, one of the few official English language propaganda channels that the PRC sponsored during the period.

Still, I must admit that I have always had questions. When Wang was tapped to go to Myanmar he would have been close to 80 years old.  After a lifetime of fights and punishing strength training (we often forget that in his youth Wang was also famous as a wrestler and professional strongman), what sort of demonstration would he have been able to offer?  Did he undertake this trip primarily as a martial artist, or more as an elder statesman of what Western scholars refer to as “cultural diplomacy”? Short of finding some detailed film footage from the era, I assumed that this would be an impossible question to really answer. Many issues in the field of martial arts history will, by their very nature, remain a mystery.

 

 

Two Views of Wang Ziping

One can only imagine my surprise when I came across not one, but two, pieces of footage, both shot in 1963, that provided a pretty definitive answer to my question.  Not only was Wang still active at the age of 80, he moved fantastically. Better yet, these films compliment the few other clips I had been able to locate on YouTube. Yet they did not come without some questions of their own.

Interested readers can link to these films here and here. Both clips are just under two minutes and offer a clear, well directed, vision of the period’s developing Wushu culture, complete with English language narration.  Ironically, I came across both of these clips on the Getty Image database earlier in the Spring of 2018 when I was looking for newsreel footage of Chinese soldiers with dadao’s during the 1930s.  I realized that both films were quite exciting, but it took a while for my own writing and research to catch up with them.

Sadly, Getty does not provide their properties with the types of citations that are generally required in academic publications, but we do have some information. Their labels make it clear that both clips came from some sort of English language “cultural survey” that the Chinese government completed in 1963.  The actual title of this project, and how it was distributed to the West, are all left to the imaginations of the reader.

I have yet to resolve these questions and would appreciate any input that readers of this blog might have.  Yet as I further explored the archive it became clear that there were many other clips from the same project.  Some of these dealt with other traditional Chinese arts (such as the construction of miniature wood carvings).  But the majority of them reflected the dominant discourses seen in other period propaganda pieces. China was shown as a technologically advanced, wealthy, nation that had already achieved a high degree of industrialization. Indeed, it was getting ready to challenge the West on its own terms.  In one clip Chinese scientists were shown researching new petroleum products.  In another Chinese surgeons successfully reattached a hand that had been severed in an industrial accident.

All of this should help us to properly frame and understand these clips. The view of China which this “cultural survey” set out to construct was overwhelming that of an advanced and industrialized nation. While clearly noting that the Wushu was an aspect of China’s traditional physical culture (or more specifically, a type “traditional calisthenics”), one got the sense that all of this was meant to underline the fundamental modernity that ran throughout the rest of the project. Foreign audiences were not meant to see in these scenes a romantic view of an unchanging China.  Given the film’s avowedly Marxist viewpoint, its fundamental argument was that China had changed, and so had its martial arts.

 

 

These large themes can be seen in both clips. But beyond that, each clip seems to accomplish different goals for its Western audience. The first of these runs for 1:51 seconds.  It opens with an establishing shot of senior citizens preforming Taijiquan in the park. Indeed, the age of the practitioners seems to be an organizing principal of this brief film.  Having hailed the audience with what was already a fairly common trope, the camera then cuts to a shot of Wang Ziping leading a large group of children through a similar type of exercise.  This scene seemed to have its own message.  While “New China” was moving on, the younger generation would not forget their fundamental identity.

Questions of identity come up repeatedly in the narration of this brief clip.  The next shot shows an enthusiastic young boy demonstrating a dynamic dao routine.  The narrator informs the English speaking audience that Wushu was an art with uniquely “Chinese characteristics.” These could be found in its penchant for combining opposed sorts of movement.

As if to illustrate that point the camera then cut to Wang, who was demonstrating a sword set using a long, two handed jian. This is perhaps the best sequence in the film as it clearly establishes the virtuosity of his techniques.  Yet rather than naming the master, the narrator simply informs the audience that such practices are “popular among the broad masses of the working people.”

 

 

 

Even when dealing with foreign audiences, China’s new government sought to define and justify the martial arts at least partially through a class-based narrative.  Yes, this was “traditional” physical culture but, more importantly, it was property of the masses.  Wang’s anonymous performance stood in technical contrast to what was about to come next. It seemed to exemplify the neo-historicism of certain aspects of the Republican period (such as a fascination with the archaic two handed jian) which was in contrast to the streamlined and socially conscious Wushu to come.

Having introduced both the very old, and the very young, the film then cut to the athletic performance of young adults in their prime.  First an individual (who bears at least some resemblance to Wang’s son), dressed in a white silk performance costume, performed a more vigorous Jian set.  The performance was spectacular and kinetic. After that we are introduced to the more acrobatic aspect of Wushu when an unarmed fighter is forced to “defend” himself from a dao wielding opponent. The visual tension was further escalated with a spear vs. double dagger performance. Both exciting and theatrical, such sets had been the mainstay of public demonstrations in the 1920s and 1930s. Finally, the clip ends with a female performing a solo set with the Emei piercers. She was dressed in the same silk uniform as the other university age performers who had come before.

None of the individuals in this clip were named. Rather, everyone was presented as a general cultural type: the group of old people doing Taijiquan in the park, the enthusiastic young students, and (most importantly) the mysterious teacher.  Yet all of them were shown as contributing to the explosion of kinetic vigor seen in the final Wushu demonstrations.  The narration of this film sought, in simple terms, to define this new Wushu for Western audience.  Yet the director’s arrangement of visual images presented an equally compelling argument as to how a resurgent China was reframing and transforming its traditional cultural heritage.

 

 

The second film seeks to tell a very different story. Rather than defining Wushu, it uses traditional martial arts practice to explore the lives of a “typical Chinese family” living in a luxuriously furnished apartment in Shanghai.  Of course, the patriarch of this multi-generational family is Wang Ziping.

If anything, the second clip is even more dramatic.  It begins with a shot of Shanghai in the evening, focusing on the street lights and scenes of vehicles driving by the water. We then see the glowing windows of Wang’s residence as though we were visitors walking up the sidewalk.

As the camera moves inside, a family comes into focus. Whereas all of the figures in the previous clip were anonymous representation of the nation, we are now guests in a home. Introductions are in order.  These begin with Wang himself, who is shown working on a piece of calligraphy. The audience is informed that Wang is a doctor of traditional Chinese medicine, and the camera cuts to a quick shot of his clinic where he can be seen manipulating a patient’s arm.

Next, we meet Wang’s son.  While his father wears traditional clothing, the son, like everyone else, is smartly dressed in western attire.  He plays some type of shuffle board game with a number of other family members.  We learn that he too is a physician.

After that we are introduced to Wang’s daughter and her husband, both of whom are professors.  The camera then pans from a shot of the two speaking with their children, to a framed photograph on the wall in which Mrs. Wang is putting a group of identically dressed Wushu students through their paces.  This would seem to answer any question as to what subject she taught.

Once we have established for the Western audience that this is indeed a “typical” Chinese family, we are then told that the Wang’s do have one unique characteristic.  Despite their many professional commitments, they all gather during their free time to practice various types of Wushu in the park.  A set of traditional weapons are shown leaning against a park bench and one by one a set of hands appears to claim them.  A long continuous shot then weaves through the family group showing everyone involved in their own solo practice.

Finally, the viewers gaze is allowed to settle on Wang. He has again resumed his role as teacher and cultural guardian.  We can see his face as he happily instructs one of his grandchildren. The segment ends as the camera pulls back to reveal a family united by practice.

 

 

 

Conclusion

There are many remarkable things about this second film. Perhaps the most basic might be that Communist (and even Republican) authorities tended to treat family/lineage-based practices with a fair degree of suspicion. These were seen as being based on pre-modern modes of social arrangements, and individuals ended up investing their loyalty in the group rather than the party or the nation.

The advent of the Cultural Revolution in 1965 would see a forceful reemergence of these claims, and the subsequent suppression of much traditional martial arts practice.  This film shows a very different vision of family practice, one in which there are no doubts as to anyone’s loyalties, or their equal value to the group. Indeed, Wushu has been adopted as a means to tell Western viewers something important about the modern Chinese family.  Under the guiding hand of the CCP, practices that might have been harmful to individuals or the nation have been rectified and made socially useful. If this is true for the martial arts, we can also rest assured that it is true for gender and family relations.

Nor was the first clip actually content to simply define Wushu.  If the second film sought to use a visual portrayal of these practices to explain the family, it appears that the first’s real subject is the Chinese nation.  The intergenerational portrayal of the Wushu was not a coincidence.  Indeed, it can be read as an argument about transmission.  What exactly does the narrator mean when he notes that Wushu possesses “Chinese characteristics?”  The virtuosity of the anonymous teacher, and the explosive potential of his adult students, suggest that the stabilization of these traits was not a random or automatic process.  Rather it was one of refinement and discernment, the creation of something essential by those who worked under the authority of a benevolent state.

These clips are remarkable not just because of the technical prowess that Wang and his family display.  They also indicate that even prior to the advent of the Cultural Revolution the Chinese government was seriously investigating the use of the martial arts as a soft power resource.  More specifically, in these clips they sought to use visual representations of Wushu to convey basic principles about the nature of the new Chinese state and the reformed (yet still reassuring traditional) family.  Wang himself can be seen not just as a leading figure within the traditional Chinese martial arts community, but as a pioneer of the basic Kung Fu Diplomacy strategy which would come to define much of the global view of these practices in the current era.

 

 

oOo

If you enjoyed this discussion you might also want to read: Lives of Chinese Martial Artists (22): Wang Ziping and the Strength of the Nation

oOo

 

 

 

Play and Learning in the Martial Arts

Three unidentified children practice Kung Fu near the Shaolin Temple. This newswire photo was taken in 1982 and it captures the first moments of the “Golden Age” of Kung Fu in mainland China.

 

The Problem with Play

I have always found TED talks to be a mixed bag. Some are wonderful. Others I find vaguely irritating. But the project itself, which seeks to popularize some of the most important “big ideas,” is deeply interesting.  If nothing else, scrolling through a list of titles on the video platform of your choice is a good way to see which concepts are currently making their way into popular consciousness. That is important as scholars are increasingly being judged by the sorts of “real world” effects that their research generates.

If the “TED Index” has any validity, there is one idea whose time has truly come.  “Play” is back.  After decades of being little more than a term of abuse, a purposeless activity relegated to the realm of childhood, play has recently become an important concept.  While few individuals, other than a handful of psychologists and evolutionary biologists, thought about play a decade ago, today studies are being conducted, grants are being written and (many) books published.

This material seems to have come to a general agreement on a few key facts.  Play is a very important aspect of human (indeed, all mammal) learning and development. Individuals who are artificially deprived of play tend to be less creative, flexible, resilient and have an increased likelihood of psychological disorders.  The rise of anxiety, depression and suicide in the Western world, while typically blamed on cell phones and Facebook, also corresponds with the increasing displacement of all forms of play from the lives of tightly scheduled children and young adults.  It seems that the entire TED circuit speaks with a single voice when they tell us that we are facing a crisis.  As Weber’s iron cage of modern rationality grinds on, play has become an endangered species.  The result is a society filled with less creative, less sociable, and less psychologically resilient individuals, precisely at the moment when we need those sorts of attributes the most.

Nor is this simply a matter of concern for parents and school administrators. While most mammals retain some interest in play, humans are practically unique (or at least right up there with dolphins and sea otters) in that extended periods of play remain necessary for adults as well.  As one of the afore mentioned TED talks noted, the opposite of play isn’t “work.”  Its depression.  And that quip brings us to the heart of our problem.  Play has a branding problem.  Can the martial arts help?

As with so much else, I blame the Puritans for all of this. The advent of the protestant work ethic represented a fundamental break with traditional modes of social organization across large portions of the West. While there is much that we could say on the topic (indeed, entire books and articles have been written on the subject), for the purposes of the current post it is enough to note that frivolous activities came under severe scrutiny in a society where an individual’s personal value became increasingly conflated with their net worth.  After all, the one thing that no society can abide is an individual who fails to take its values seriously.  In short order “play” came to be regarded with suspicion.

Nor has the increasing secularization of society done anything to alleviate this problem.  If anything, it has gotten far worse in recent decades.  School years are longer now than they were two generations ago, and seemingly secondary subjects like music, art and recess have all found themselves on the chopping block.  The sorts of athletic leagues that most children find themselves in today are so tightly supervised and disciplined that they no longer meet even the most basic definitions of play. Indeed, the need for constant resume building has eliminated much of the unsupervised “downtime” in which childhood used to occur in.

 

Naganita Class. Okayama City, 1935. Source: Old Japan Photos.

 

Martial Arts Practice as Play

This is the section of the essay where I typically introduce martial arts practice as the unexpected solution to what ever issue kicked off our discussion.  Unfortunately, the relationship between the martial art and play is complex and multilayered.  On the one hand, these practices have been haunted by the widely held perception that they are not something that “serious” people do.  Spending an hour a day training for your half marathon is fine, even admirable.  But spending that same hour in a kung fu or kickboxing class can elicit sideways glances and nervous laughter.  Paul Bowman tries to unwrap what is going on here in the opening chapters of his volume Mythologies of Martial Arts(2016).  His arguments are well worth reviewing. But in brief, the alien and seemingly pre-modern nature of the Asian martial arts makes it difficult to incorporate them into Western society’s dominant discourses.

The health benefits of jogging are obvious, as are the competitive virtues of winning a 10K race. They require no explanation.  Yet one must always explain that kickboxing is a great workout, or that BJJ “burns a lot of calories.”  Martial artists are constantly, and with only partial success, justifying the resources that they spend on their training.  Yet at the end of the day, for most members of society, this will always be “just playing around.”  Children may get some benefits from martial arts training.  But Master Ken remains a telling image of the overly serious adult student who never managed to grow up. Serious martial arts training remains unavailable to many adults precisely because it is perceived as a type of (delusional) “play.”

The irony is that many, maybe even most, martial arts class rooms are devoid of actual play.  Real play, true play, can be antithetical to the goals of many martial arts schools.  To understand why this is we need to think a little more carefully about play itself. Unfortunately there are lots of definitions floating around and they don’t all agree. Still, I know play when I see it.  For a short essay like this a compete clinical definition probably isn’t necessary.  Luckily there are a few broadly held points of agreement that can guide our thinking.

To begin with, play is not the same thing as inaction or simply a lack of seriousness. It is an independent process in its own right, with both psychological and social aspects.  There are many types of play.  Some are deeply imaginative and others are not, being primarily observational or embodied. True play is an independently chosen activity that happens in the absence of a directing authority.  It is basically a truism to say that no one can force you to play. Play is generally seen as being purposeless.  This does not mean that it has no impact on an individual’s life.  Rather, it happens for its own sake. To summarize, fun activities are “play” only if they are self-controlled and self-directed.

A psychologist or social scientist may look at what happens in the average Taekwondo class and see a highly creative modern ritual. Individuals dress in symbolic clothing and engage in rites of reversal that upend mundane social values (such as don’t hit your friends or choke your siblings). And yet many training environments go out of their way to avoid an air of playfulness.  In its place we find the formality of ritual and the constant supervision (and correction) of concerned teachers.  Indeed, the parents of the children in the class are likely to be found on folding chairs in the school’s lobby, closely monitoring everyone’s progress. This is a type of performance staged for social purposes rather than individual play. Much the same could be said for most school sports.

One may have quite a bit of fun in such a structured martial arts class (I know I always do).  And there is no doubt that students learn and derive all sorts of physical and social benefits from participating in such classes.  And yet all of this is basically the antithesis of play.  The general feeling seems to be that not only would play in a martial environment be unproductive (how can one learn “good habits” without constant correction and oversight?), but that it might also be dangerous.  Just stop to think about the arsenal of weapons that line the walls of the average kung fu school?  Do you really want to turn the students loose for long periods of unstructured play?  Perhaps the opposite of play is actually “liability insurance.”

Luckily my own Sifu didn’t seem to believe that last point.  I can confidentially say that unstructured play was critical to my development as a Wing Chun student. Indeed, it was an important part of the curriculum.

Standard classes, graded by level and each having a well-developed curriculum, were held four nights a week at Wing Chun Hall in Salt Lake City. Yet Jon Nielson, my Sifu, was aware that more was needed when attempting to find your own place in the martial arts community.  So every Friday evening and Saturday morning his school would open for three hours of unsupervised “practice time” for anyone who wanted to come. Students of the Wing Chun Hall were expected to attend these “open sessions” on a semi-regular basis (and there was never any cost for doing so).  Even individuals from other schools were welcome to come by and train with the Wing Chun people if they so desired.  The critical thing, however, was that the one person who was rarely ever there was Sifu. The sessions were instead monitored (but not run) by his junior instructors who were under strict orders to help if asked. Otherwise students were left to train how they saw fit.  If someone wanted to learn some basic dummy exercises, even though they were years away from starting the dummy form, this was their time to do it.

Most people would come to an open session with some sort of goal in mind.  Maybe they wanted to work on a specific form.  Perhaps they were having trouble with ground-work, or one of the paired exercises that had been introduced during the week.  And it goes without saying that everyone wanted to practice Chi Sao with the more senior students (or to touch hands with visitors from different styles).

Yet three hours is a long time.  One would inevitably be drawn into all sorts of other drills, exercises and discussions that you had never envisioned. The second and third hour of any sessions always seemed to evolve organically. One might well come in to work on the dummy and end up with a pole in your hands.  I still have fond memories of one Saturday spent making up a game so that new Siu Lim Tao students could practice their footwork. While these open sessions tended to start out as directed and focused, by about hour two things had become much more fluid.

My sifu instituted these open sessions for a couple of reasons.  To begin with, everyone needs a night off.  And we can all use more hours of practice when it comes to the sorts of sensitivity drills that Wing Chun so loves.  These things are not like riding bike.  Once certainly will forget them, and you are never any better than however many hours of practice you put in the month before.

Beyond that, my Sifu was also a keen student of pedagogy.  He carefully explained to me the importance of unstructured play, free of judgement or overbearing correction, in learning any physical skill.  More specifically, he noted that this was where students would learn to trust their bodies, bodies that were now defined through a new set of skills.  And it was those martially educated bodies that would make judgements about the world. Understanding whether someone was a threat, or whether a technique was working, was an embodied process.  Teaching and drilling this material during the more structured nightly classes was not enough.  It was also a matter of how that knowledge was internalized, localized, modified and rearranged.  Drawing on his background in linguistics he noted that kung fu meant “hard/skillful work” (and it certainly is), but in China the martial arts are often associated with the verb “to play.”  One “plays wushu,” or goes to “play sticky hands.”  Both modes of action, he suggested, exist in a reciprocal relationship. Self-controlled and self-directed play is not disposable or supplemental.  Properly understood, it is a critical aspect of the learning process.

 

Chad Eisner (left) sparring with one of his students.

 

A Common Sentiment

I had not thought about my teacher’s open sessions (and how much fun they were) in a while.  But earlier this week I bumped into an old friend at the grocery store who had recently returned to the US after living abroad. She asked how my martial arts training was going and, while mentioning my various projects, I noted an upcoming workshop with a guest instructor that I would be hosting for the lightsaber combat group here in Ithaca.

My friend already considers my Chinese martial arts practice to be strange enough.  But apparently she had been gone long enough that she didn’t know about the lightsaber project.  It elicited a laugh hinting at something other than delight.  Still, laughter from the uninitiated comes with the territory when one is holding a lightsaber (or, if we are being totally honest, any other type of sword).  I noted that, if nothing else, it is easier to fill a class with lightsaber students than, say, the traditional Wing Chun swords.  She immediately noted that she would be much more likely to come to the later, “but to each their own.”

This was not the first time I have heard something like this.  When explaining to curious passersby that our lightsaber system is based, in large part, on traditional Chinese swordsmanship, this is actually a pretty common response. Everyone it seems, is more interested in “serious” fencing or maybe Wudang sword practice.  And yet we all know that the vast majority of these individuals would never actually show up for that class.  Ithaca is full of highly skilled traditional martial arts teachers that struggle to find more than a handful of students. The sad truth is, to an outside observer, anyone who voluntarily spends that much time with a sword isn’t being “serious.” How could they be?  Isn’t it all just for fun?  You might call it training, but for most people it will always be “just playing around.”

One of the challenges facing the modern martial arts is not to internalize this common critique.  It is all too easy to respond to these questions by reframing all of our activities as investments and “hard work.”  Indeed, the nationalist turn taken by the Japanese and Chinese arts in the 1930s explicitly argued that the goals of hand combat practice were fundamentally a continuation of modernist project.  The martial arts of the era demanded (and received) state support precisely because they argued that they had moved beyond childish things and become a means of “strengthening the nation.”

Such rhetoric was intoxicatingly effective in the 1930s and 1940s.  Yet these arguments work less well in the consumer driven spaces that define the modern West.  Few people want to pay $100 a month to be part of a nationalist indoctrination program.

Nor, given our increased understanding of the importance of play as an aspect of mental health, as well as its critical importance to the learning process, a move back to the “seriousness” of the 1930s would not be wise.  Sadly the martial arts sector lacks the visibility to create a widespread desire for play in the West.  I suppose that is the job of public intellectuals, morning talk show appearances, NY Times best sellers and (if all else fails) TED talks. Yet what we can do is to provide spaces for less-structured play in our classes, organizations and training structures.  My Sifu did that for me, and it was immensely valuable. After speaking with my friend I realized that my lightsaber classes might need something similar. It is not enough that an activity is imaginative or fun. We all learn fastest when given opportunities for truly independent play.

 

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If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: Red Boats and the Nautical Origins of the Wooden Dummy

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Through a Lens Darkly (57): The Asian Martial Arts and Modern Primitivism

This advertisement is from the 1970s, but it hits many of the same notes as the one discussed in this post and I love its graphic nature.

 

 

Introduction

My ongoing research on the public diplomacy of the Chinese martial arts has taken a decisive turn.  The Second World War is one of those historical calamities that defines an era, and I now find myself venturing into the post-war era.  This is something of an adventure for me as I have gotten rather comfortable with the first half of the twentieth century.

Adventures are fun.  But any journey worth the trip is also a bit intimidating. Moving into a new era inevitably means loosening my grip on old assumptions and trying to see familiar processes through new eyes.  More specifically, if we are going to understand how various Asian states engaged in “Kung Fu Diplomacy” in the 1950s and 1960s it becomes vitally important to learn a little more about the attitudes of the Western public that they were attempting to appeal to.  What sorts of desires and predispositions do we find here?  Why might images of the martial arts appealed to them? What did they make of updated martial arts practices the post-war period?

Such answers might help to explain some of the remaining paradoxes regarding the post-war globalization of the Asian martial arts. For instance, it makes sense that Americans would have found the Japanese martial arts more interesting than their Chinese cousins during the 1910s.  Japan had just shocked the world with their defeat of Russia, and all sorts of travel writers were commenting on the rapid modernization of its society. It was inevitable that the Western public would develop an interest in their martial arts as it sought to come to terms with a newly ascendant Japan.

This is a logical, cohesive, and widely shared narrative. It also makes what happens after WWII something of a paradox.  If there had been a degree of polite interest in the Japanese martial arts during the 1910s-1930s, it paled in comparison to the boom unleashed during the 1950s.  Yet this was a humbled Japan, one that had been exposed as a brutal fascist power and utterly broken on the battlefield of the Pacific. China, on the other hand, had been on the winning side of this conflict and an ally (if a somewhat reluctant one) of the West.  Yet American GI’s remained vastly more interested in judo than kung fu.

Perhaps Japan’s status as an occupied country after 1945 made its culture available for colonial appropriation in ways that had not really been possible in the 1920s-1930s.  If nothing, else the country was hosting a sizable occupation force? Yet China’s status as a defacto colonial power in the late Qing and early Republic period did not seem to make its physical culture all that attractive to the many missionaries, government functionaries and YMCA directors that administered the Western zones of influence there.

Donn Draeger explained his interest in the Japanese martial arts by noting the superior performance of Japanese soldiers on the battlefield. Yet surely that had as much to do with their superior weapons, officers and communications systems as anything else. Something in this equation remains unexplained.  Japan continued to possess a store of cultural desire (or “soft power”) that was intuitively obvious to individuals at the time. But what exactly was it? Ruth Benedict’s controversial book, the Chrysanthemum and the Sword, has been widely criticized for what it got wrong about Japanese society.  Yet we still need to come to terms with its popularity.  What does this say about the Western adoption of the martial arts, and their continued preference for Japanese, rather than Chinese, fighting systems in the 1950s and early 1960s.  After all, it was an era when American servicemen and women were being in posted in Taiwan and all over the Pacific region.  Why not a sudden interest in White Crane?

 

Funny story, I decided to write this post while listening to a DJ on an NPR’s Retro Cocktail Hour play this record.

 

 

Visiting the Tiki Bar

We can shed some light on this small mystery by turning our attention to a larger paradox, emerging from the realm of architecture.  In 1949 the Eames finished construction on “Case Study Number 8”, now known simply as the Eames House.  This masterpiece of modern design was an experiment in using newly available “off the shelf” materials (many invented during WWII) to create functional modern dwellings to address America’s post-war housing crisis.  If one were searching for a harbinger of mid-century design, something that would begin to push its simplified, functional, glass and steel lines into the mainstream of American culture, this might well be it.

Yet this was not the only architectural trend to explode in the early 1950s.  At exactly the same time that Americans were building mid-century masterpieces, they were also creating thousands of cringeworthy Tiki bars.  It would be hard to think of two aesthetic visions that could be more opposed to each other.  Why would the flannel suit clad worshipers of America’s modernist temples spend their evenings in Tiki bars, listening to an endless supply of ethnically inspired vinyl records that inevitably featured the word “savage” in their titles?

Americans are restless spirits searching for paradise.  Their popular culture has been shaped by reoccurring debates about where it is to be found, and how one might acquire such an ephemeral state.  Much of the 19thcentury was invested in debates between pre and post-millennial religious movements.  In the early 20thcentury these currents secularized and reemerged as a debate between what I will call “progressive modernism” and “modern primitivism.”

It was the core values of progressive moderns that the period’s architecture rendered in steel and concrete. This social movement exhibited an immense faith in the ability of technology to address a wide range of material and social challenges, and the wisdom of human beings to administer these ever more complex systems. The era that gave us the space race promised that man’s destiny lay among the stars, and it was only of matter of time until well ordered, rational, societies reached them.  Of course, there were underlying discourses that found a certain expression in the 1950s.  It is clear that science and modernism had been looking for a future paradise in the stars since at least the time of Jules Verne.  But the 1950s threatened to make this vision a reality.

Reactions against progressive modernism also had their roots in the pre-war period.  Post-impressionist artists were becoming increasingly concerned about the sorts of social alienation that technological change brought.  They turned to African, Native American and Asian art as models because the abstract forms they found within them seemed to symbolize the alienation of modern individuals cut off from traditional modes of understanding.  Yet these “primitive” models also offered a different vision of paradise, the promise that an early Garden of Eden could still be recovered if we were to turn our backs on a narrow vision of progress and attempt to recapture the wisdom that “primitive” communities possessed.

The current of “modern primitivism” surged again in the post-war era, a period of unprecedented economic and technological change.  A wide range of thinkers once again became concerned with creeping alienation.  Some noted that that an Eden could be found within.  Joseph Campbell, drawing on the work of Jung and Freud, released his landmark Hero with a Thousand Facesin 1949.  Rather than seeing happiness and fulfillment as something to be achieved through future progress, Campbell drew on psychological models to argue for a return to something that was timeless.  The stories of forgotten and “primitive” societies were a sign post to our collective birth right.  Likewise, Alan Watt’s the great popularizer of Zen Buddhism, published prolifically throughout the 1950s and 1960s, feeding an endless desire for an internal technology that could insulate us against fears of displacement, alienation and even nuclear annihilation.

It is easy to discount the Tiki Bar, to treat it as an architectural oddity.  Yet it was simply a popular manifestation of a fascination with naturalism and primitivism whose genealogy stretches back to the first years of the twentieth century. The easy play with sexual innuendo and hyper-masculinity that marked these spaces makes sense when placed within the larger discourses on the stifling effects of modernism, social conformity and the need to return to a more “primitive” state to find human fulfillment.  The savage was held up as someone who bore a secret vitally important to navigating those temples of glass and steel that marked the American landscape.

 

 

 

A Kendo Lesson

The pieces are now in place to approach the central subject of this essay.  Throughout the 1950s and 1960s Canadian Club whisky ran an advertising campaign attempting to associate their product with notions of exotic travel and (luxurious) adventure. In an era when much of the advertising in the alcohol market focused on nostalgic images of hearth and home (situating the consumption of whisky within a comfortable upper-middle class heteronormativity) Canadian Club asked its drinkers to aspire to something more.  It featured images of archeological expeditions to Central America, safaris in Africa, and (of course) adventures in the exotic east.

Yet the fulfillment in these adds was not simply the product of getting back to nature, or living in a more primitive condition. It was necessary to physically strive with the citizens of these realms to capture some aspect of their wisdom.  At times these advertisements, each of which reads like a miniature travelogue, seem to spend as much time advertising hoplology as whiskey.  Of course, nothing as prosaic as judo was featured in these adds. One did not need to join the jet set to experience Kano’s gentle art.  More exotic practices, including jousting matches between Mexican cowboys, stick fighting in Portugal, and Japanese kendo were held up as the true measure of a man.

Judging from years of watching eBay auctions, the Kendo campaign was Canadian Clubs most successful of their excursions into hoplology. Or, more accurately, people have been more likely to preserve the Kendo advertisements than some of the other (equally interesting) campaigns.

Titled “In Japanese Kendo its no runs, all hits and no errors” the advertisement tells the story of traveler who comes to Japan and, after a brief period of instruction, joins a kendo tournament.  Readers are informed:

“A greenhorn hasn’t a chance when he crosses ‘swords’ in a Japanese Kendo match,” writes John Rich, an American friend of Canadian Club “In Tokyo I took a whack at this slam-bang survivor of Japan’s 12thcentury samurai warrior days.  The Samurai lived by the sword and glorified his flashing blade.  His peaceful descendant uses a two-handed bamboo shinai in a lunging duel that makes Western fencing look like a dancing class.”

Predictably, things go badly for Mr. Rich who is immediately eliminated without being able to get a blow in against his first opponent. His instructor informs him that he “needs more training.” But its ok, because even in an environment as exotic as this, one can still enjoy Canadian Club whisky with your fellow adventurers. Interestingly, the advertisement places Mori Sensei within the category of fellow travelers when he opens a bottle from his personal reserves.  Thus, a community is formed between the jet setting adventurer and the bearer of primitive wisdom through their shared admiration for the same popular brand.

So what is the Ethos of a kendo tournament, at least according to a 1955 alcohol advertisement?  It is challenging and painful.  But is it primitive?  Is it savage?

Historians of the Japanese martial arts can easily inform us that Kendo is basically a product of the 19thand early 20thcenturies.  Yet this advertisement repeatedly equates it with the world of the samurai, thus suggests that something medieval lives on in Japan.  According to mythmakers in both East and West, this is a defining feature of Japanese culture.  So clearly there is a type of “primitivism” here.

Nor does one need to look far for the savagery.  It is interesting to think about what sorts of practices we don’t see in these advertisements.  I have never seen a Canadian Club story on judo, Mongolian wrestling or professional wrestling. Not all of these adds focus on combat, the jet setter had many adventures to consume. Yet when the martial arts did appear, they inevitably involved weapons.  I suspect this is not a coincidence.

Paul Bowman meditated on the meaning of these sorts of issues in his 2016 volume Mythologies of Martial Arts.   While those of us within the traditional martial arts think nothing of picking up a stick, training knife or sword, he sought to remind us that to most outsiders, such activities lay on a scale somewhere between “deranged” on one end and “demented” on the other.  While one might argue for the need for “practical self-defense,” it is a self-evident fact few people carry swords in the current era and even fewer are attacked with them while walking through sketchy parking garages. There is just very little rational justification for this sort of behavior.  Most of who engage in regular weapons practice can speak at length about why we find these practices rewarding, or how they help to connect us with the past. But all of that rests on a type of connoisseurship that most people would find mystifying.  For them, an individual who plays with swords has either seen too many ninja movies or is simply asking for trouble.  Playing with weapons (as opposed to more responsible pursuit like jogging, or even cardo kick-boxing) is almost the definition of “savage.”

But what about an entire society that plays with swords? What if one has been told, rightly or wrongly, that this is a core social value?  It is that very disjoint with modernity that would make such a group a target for the desires of modern primitivism.  The problem with the Chinese (and hence the Chinese martial arts) was not that they won or lost any given war.  Rather, it was the (entirely correct) perception that the Chinese people did not valorize violence.  Despite all of the critiques that were directed at their “backward state” and “failure to modernize” in the 1920s-1930s, their pacific nature was seen as a positive value widely shared with the West (indeed, it was a point of emphasis in WWII propaganda films).  Ironically, that similarity would serve to make Chinese boxing less appealing to the sorts of individuals who consumer Canadian Club whisky, or at least its advertisement.  Nor did the actual performance of real Japanese troops on specific battlefields determine the desirability of their martial arts.  It was the image of cultural essentialism (carefully constructed by opinion makers in both Japan and the West), which made kendo desirable because of its “primitive nature,” not despite it.

Seen in this light, the early global spread of the Japanese arts makes more sense.  What had once been a modernist and nationalist project could play a different role in the post-war American landscape.  These arts promised a type of self-transformation that placed them in close proximity to the currents of modern primitivism.  While the Tiki bar appealed to those who sought temporary release from the strictures of progressive modernism, the martial arts spoke to those who sought a different sort of paradise.  Theirs was an Eden to be found in the wisdom of “primitive” societies and the search for the savage within.

 

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If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: The Tao of Tom and Jerry: Krug on the Appropriation of the Asian Martial Arts in Western Culture

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Individualism, Art and Craft: Reading Bruce Lee by the Numbers

 

 

 

Interpreting Bruce Lee

We may debate lists of the 20th century’s most influential martial artists,* but when it comes to written texts, there is simply no question.  “Liberate Yourself from Classical Karate,”  Bruce Lee’s 1971 manifesto, first appearing in the September issue of Black Belt magazine, has been reprinted, read, criticized and commented upon more than any other English language work.  Like many aspects of Lee’s legacy, it has generated a fair degree of controversy.  But what interests me the most is the scope and character of its audience.

One might suppose that Lee’s essay would have been read primarily by the Karate students that the title hailed, or perhaps by the generations of Kung Fu students who have come to idolize him.  And it is entirely understandable that this text has assumed an important place within the Jeet Kune Do community.  Yet its title notwithstanding, Lee never intended this piece as a narrow argument.  Nor, when we get right down to it, was Lee actually trying to convince anyone to quite Karate in favor of another style.  Such nationalist or partisan concerns were a feature of the earlier phase of his career. By 1971 Lee was concerned with more fundamental issues.

Yet all of these statements are really my own personal readings, and as such they open the door to questions of interpretation. What are the most valid ways to read Lee’s famous essay? And what sorts of interpretations might be unsupportable, what Umberto Eco called “overinterpretations” (See “Interpretation and Overinterpretation: World, History, Texts” (Cambridge University 1990). I have it on good authority that two of my friends are currently preparing a debate on this text, and what it suggests about the validity of various theories of interpretation, which will appear in a future issue of Martial Arts Studies.

With that on the horizon, I am hesitant to venture too far into the same territory.  Yet if he were here, Umberto Eco’s would probably point out that a close reading reveals that Lee seems to have had some well-developed thoughts on how his essay should be read, and what sorts of interpretations of this text (and the Jeet Kune Do project more generally), might be considered valid.  Lee begins his argument with the well known story of the Zen master overflowing a cup of tea precisely to head off responses to his work that might be classified as “arguments from authority.”  Indeed, in the very next paragraph he tells his readers that he has structured his essay like the traditional martial arts classes that they are all so familiar with. First the mental limbering up must happen so that one’s received bodily (or mental) habits can be set aside.  Only then is it possible to see events as they actually are, without resorting to the crutch of style (or perhaps theory) to tell you what you are perceiving.

As a social scientist I am very suspicious of those who claim to be able to put “theory” aside and to simply see a situation for what it really is. As one of my old instructors colorfully declared, no such thing is possibly.  “Theory is hardwired into our eyeballs.”  It is fundamental to how our brains make sense of raw stimulus. We all have so many layers of mental habit, training and predisposition that the notion of setting it aside is fundamentally misguided.  Much the same could be said of our bodily predispositions.  Lee is correct in that one can set aside style.  But the more basic structures that Marcel Mauss called “techniques of the body”, or Bourdieu’s socio-economically defined (and defining) “habitus,” are not things that can ever really be set aside. Seeing the world with no filter at all, dealing with pure objective reality, is not possible, no matter how much enthusiasm Lee generates for the project.

On a personal level I suspect that while we all strive (and we should strive) to empty our cups, the best we can actually do is to try and be aware of the unique perspectives that each of us bring to an event. For instance, when Lee composed the arguments and images that make up this essay, it was with the intention of constructing what Eco called a “model reader”, someone who would become sympathetic to the arguments that he was trying to make. This was not necessarily a reader who would quit his karate class and put on a JKD shirt (though that might happen).  Again, Lee was pretty explicit about his aims.  He wasn’t trying to make America’s martial artists more like him in a technical sense.  Rather, it was enough if they simply began to “leave behind the burdens of pre-conceived opinions and conclusions,” and base their training strategies on personal observations of what actually happened rather than someone else’s notions of what should happen.  In essence, Lee was not so much proposing that America’s martial artists change styles (something that by definition could only be a pointless, lateral, move). Rather, he wanted them to begin to think seriously about how exactly they knew what they knew.  He wanted them to change epistemologies.

We can say this much with confidence. Yet knowing everything that Lee wanted, or intended, as an author is tricky.  This was not a long essay, and while key points can be teased out (e.g., a surprising degree of faith in the individual and a notable suspicion of all sources of social authority), many lines in the essay remain open to interpretation.  It is the sort of text that rewards a very close, sentence by sentence, reading. Even then, all we can really know is the intention of this essay, a linguistic artifact created at a specific moment in 1971.  It is interesting to speculate as to what a much younger Lee would have made of this text.  And by the end of his life in 1973 his thoughts on the value of Jeet Kune Do seem to have evolved rather dramatically.  While we might fruitfully debate the interpretation of Lee’s text, the interpretation of its author remains a much more difficult task.

Still, Lee attempted to make it clear that certain interpretations of his text were out of bounds. It is that authorial strategy that actually brings Eco’s approach to mind as possible interpretive strategy. He notes that a proper reading would be a humanist one.  For Lee the martial arts are properly a matter of individual human activity rather than the exclusive property of nations or groups.  He notes that his essay should not be seen as a polemic by a Chinese martial artist against the Japanese bushido.  Nor should he be read as proposing a new style or system of martial training.  It also seems clear that Lee himself is the subject of the extended metaphor on page 25.  It is the author himself who in the past “discovered some partial truth” and “resisted the temptation to organize” it.  The whole story is directed towards Lee’s own students who in their enthusiasm to wrench meaning from one part of Lee’s text (or bodily practice) might fall prey to Eco’s process of “overinterpretation.”

All of this is only my interpretation of Lee’s essay, and it goes without saying that I am a type of reader that this text never anticipated.  After all, the academic study of the martial arts did not really exist in 1971, certainly not the way that it does now.

What audience did Lee, as an author, seek? What sort of “model reader” did this text intend to create? And why was there even a need to issue a call for liberation in the first place?  One might suppose that the value of freedom, self-expression and increased fighting prowess would simply be self-evident.  The fact that Lee is extolling their virtue, and calling for a fundamental change in the sources of authority that martial artists are willing to accept, suggests that it was not.

 

While I have never seen a martial arts themed paint by numbers, the “oriental other” was a popular subject between the 1950s and the 1970s.

 

Paint by Numbers

Eco may be correct that it is essentially impossible to divine the true intent of an author simply from the resulting text. Yet the complexity of that task pales in comparison with the challenge of reconstructing how his or her readers responded to that text at a given point in history.  After all, the author had the good sense to leave us with a text (even if his meanings may have been unclear).  The readers, more often than not, left nothing but nods of agreement or groans of frustration deposited within the etheric sphere.  Trying to reconstruct their experience through our own empathic imagination might really be an exercise in “organized despair,” to borrow a phrase from Lee.  Yet it is precisely in those moments, where the expectation of the reader and the intention of a text clash, that brief bursts of light are created.  And this fading conflict can suggest some of the critical features that once defined a historical landscape.  While difficult, it is worthwhile to try and discover something about the “model readers” who struggled with, and were organized by, this text.  Indeed, I actually find the readers of this essay even more interesting (and vastly more sociologically significant) than its author. Yet we know so much less about them.

While few readers took the time to provide contemporaneous documentation of their first reading of this essay (I know of no such record), it would not be correct to say that they left no evidence of their passing.  For one thing, the 1970s produced a rich material and symbolic record which suggests some interesting hypotheses about the sorts of audience that Lee would have encountered.  Two such artifacts are currently hanging on the wall of my living room.

They appear in the form of pair of paint by number landscapes, illustrating a wintery New England day so picturesque that one is quite certain that it never happened.  These paintings were completed by a woman in 1971, the same year that Lee’s essay first appeared.  One suspects that if he had taken an interest in art criticism Lee would have had much to say about my paintings. With a few choice substitutions his famous essay could easily be retitled “Liberate Yourself from the Paint by Number Kit” and it would read almost as well.

That, seemingly flippant, observation reveals an important clue about the sorts of readers (and martial artists) that Lee was addressing.  We don’t have a large body of informed martial arts criticism dating from the 1970s, but we do have a vast literature on the criticism of the visual arts.  And several critics explicitly addressed the paint by numbers fad.  The sorts of arguments that they made sound, at least to my ear, uncannily like the points that Lee was trying to make.

By 1971 the paint by number phenomenon was already a well-established part of American middle class landscape (much like the neighborhood judo club).  These kits were originally conceived of by an artist named Dan Robbins and Max S. Klein, the owner of the Palmer Paint Company.  After the end of WWII Americans leveraged their increased rights in the workplace, and a period of unprecedented economic growth, to create a new golden age of the leisure economy.  The forty-hour work week meant that workers had more free time than ever before, and they had enough income to fill those hours with an ever expanding range of activities. The visual arts were increasingly popular, but for most people doing their own paintings remained an aspirational dream.  Robbins and Klein decided that simple kits, which required only an ability to color within the lines, would provide Americans with many hours of relaxation while selling an unprecedented amount of paint. Their initial run of kits, which attempted to educate consumers about the latest trends in serious modern art, did not sell particularly well.  But when more nostalgic images of the countryside, animals, dancers and the “exotic East” were introduced, it was clear that a cultural phenomenon had been born.

This did not please most of the art critics of the day. The lack of creativity, indeed, the process of near mechanical reproduction, involved in these “paintings” came to symbolize the worst aspects of 1950s social conformity. [Note also that cover of the 1971 Black Belt issues has Lee  hyperbolically warning America’s martial artists that they are being transformed into machines].  In the view these critics, individuals were drawn to art because they wanted to experience creativity. Yet these kits promised them basic results only by foreswearing any degree of individual expression.  When the critics imaged millions of (near identical) Mona Lisas hanging on the walls of the millions of (near identical) tiny homes which populated America’s postwar landscape, they found themselves drowning in a nightmare of suburban mediocrity.

This was precisely the cultural milieu that inspired Umberto Eco to undertake his cross-continental road-trip, explicitly focusing on the question of simulation in the American imagination of fine art, which would result in his essay “Travels in Hyperreality.”   This is a work that has proved important to my own understanding of the role of cultural desire within the martial arts.  Still, the judgement of the contemporary critics was clear.  Art was the product of individual inspiration and struggle with a constantly changing world.  These paintings were not art.  At best they were a mechanically reproduced “craft.”

Yet there has always been a strain of American popular culture within which such an assertion does not work as an invective. The entire turn of the century “arts and crafts” movement (seen in architecture, furniture, and the graphic arts) explicitly rejected the elitism of high art and instead asked what sort of social benefit could be derived from the support of, and participation in, wholesome crafts in which people enriched and beautified their environments while supporting local craftsmen. Nor do most of the post-war individuals who spent their afternoons with these kits seem to have aspired to be “artists.”  While such questions may have been critical to the critics, these were not categories that structured the lives of these consumers.

Paint by numbers was popular because the process was enjoyable.  People found these kits to be relaxing. Further, the idea that one could make an object suitable for display in their own homes was intrinsically rewarding. In light of this, the critic’s emphasis on individual creativity and authenticity seems to have been misplaced.  No one bought a Mona Lisa kit because they wanted to express their authentic “inner vision.” Rather, they wanted to enter into a dialogue with that specific piece of art.  They sought to understand someone else’s vision, and to be part of a community that appreciated that.

The entire genera of paint by numbers is marked with an almost overwhelming air of nostalgia.  This was an exercise in cultivating (and satisfying) a desire for preexisting categories of meaning.  Through the reproduction of different types of art (religious images, Italian masters, American landscapes, dancing figures, Paris cityscapes, etc….) individuals sought to align themselves with, and appropriate, some specific aspect of pre-existing social authority.  Make no mistake, the creation of real art is hard work.  Yet paint by numbers succeeded as a popular medium because it took seriously the notion of leisure. The physical artifacts that it generated were, in many ways, secondary to the social and psychological benefits created.

A traditional class within the Japanese martial arts might seem quite different than a paint by number kit.  Ideally the later generates very little sweating and yelling, while the former practically demands it. Yet it is no coincidence that these pursuits both exploded into America popular culture in the 1950s, driven by the growth of the post-war leisure economy. Both sought to simplify complex elite activities and present them to the masses in such a way that they could be easily mastered. Indeed, the standardized kata and training methods seen in Meiji and Showa era martial arts schools seem to have appealed to the same social sensibilities that Robbins and Klein sought to capitalize on.

Nor do questions of individuals or individual expression figure that prominently into the early post-war martial arts discourse.  We should hedge this last point as, while they were more visible, the Asian martial arts remained outside of the hegemonic aspects of Western culture (Bowman 2017).  To practice Judo in the 1950s was an expression of individual choice and values in a way that would not have been true of Japanese school children taking a Judo class in 1937.  And it is certainly true that when many returning GI’s (and later Korean and Vietnam veterans), took up these pursuits. Some sought solace, while others were looking for a source of martial excellence.    For instance, Donn F. Draeger’s letters to R. W. Smith make it clear that he was quite interested in the Japanese koryu, but had no interest in contemporary Chinese martial arts, because Japan had performed well on the battle field, and Chinese troops, by in large, had not (Miracle 2016).

Yet I doubt that Draeger was expecting to find real, unfiltered, free-style violence within the traditional dojo. One suspects that most of these vets, at least the ones who had actually seen combat, would have had enough of that on the beaches of the Pacific. What seems to have motivated many of these early students was not so much the search for “realism,” as it was the search for a “cultural essence.” Knowing the reality of warfare, one wonders whether they were freed from petty debates about the “reality of the octagon” (or its post-war equivalents).

Draeger threw himself into highly ritualized styles of Japanese swordsmanship not because he believed this was what a “scientific street fight” actually looked like.  He seems to have been looking for a deeper set of answers as to how men had achieved victory in combat in the past.  The answers were partially technical, but they also included more. Rightly or wrongly, it was clear to Draeger that (some) Japanese martial artists had the answers, while the Chinese did not. His friend and fellow researcher, R. W. Smith, came to a different set of conclusions after his own experiences with Chinese martial artist while living in Japan and Taiwan. Their martial arts research was not so much about expressing individualism in the abstract (though Draeger’s interests in body building did eventually take him in that direction), but understanding systems of social authority that had allowed individuals to do amazing things.

 

Bruce Lee Graffiti. Source: Wikimedia.

 

Conclusion: A Debate Between Readers

These duel excursus into the graphic arts and the early days of hoplology suggests how one group of readers may have approached Lee’s classic essay.  In larger cultural terms, Lee’s essay may be less daring than it first appears. While such discussions were novel in the small world of Western martial arts practice, art and culture critics had been making points very similar to Lee’s for decades. They had been doing that because activities that were structurally similar to the practice of the traditional martial arts had become increasingly common within American society since the early 1950s.  Lee is often portrayed as a radical or iconoclastic thinker, but when placed next to these critics his calls for individual expression and authenticity within the arts actually replicate the era’s elite social values. More radical, in some senses, were the voices that argued for primacy of craftmanship over art, or for a turn towards a foreign (even colonial) set of cultural values as a way of dealing with the malaise of modern life.

The issues being debated by the martial artists of the 1970s (and still today) are so fundamental that Lee’s essay was bound to generate disagreement.  The editors of Black Belt anticipated this. It may be worth reading Lee’s essay in comparison with the issue’s opening editorial on the importance of bowing and traditional etiquette, as well as its final article titled “The Legacy of the Dojo” by David Krieger (50). The first piece contains a quote by an anonymous Chinese martial artist (who may well be Bruce Lee himself as he often haunted the magazine’s offices) praising the efforts of Japanese martial artists to bring morality into their training halls while noting the often-disrespectful ways that Chinese students discussed their own teachers.  The two pieces, which both make oblique arguments for the acceptance of traditional modes of social authority within the Asian martial arts, seem to offer an intentional counterpoint to some of Lee’s more individualistic notes.

When we consider the larger social trends in post-war America, and read Lee’s essay in conjunction with the pieces that bookend the September 1971 issue, the parameters of the debate become clearer.  Then, as now, the martial arts could be seen either as a vehicle for understanding traditional modes of social authority, or as a means of breaking them down. Readers split on this issue, just as they still do today.  It is precisely this ongoing dialectic that allows the ostensibly “traditional” Asian martial arts to fill so many social roles in the modern Western world. This essay’s genius lies not in its ability to convince one side or the other, but in its ability to draw successive generations into the discussion.

 

*For the record, Kano Jigoro has my vote for the 20th century’s most influential martial artist.

 

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If you enjoyed this post you might also want to read: Explaining “Openness” and “Closure” in Kung Fu, Lightsaber Combat and Modern Martial Arts

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