Cover of The Karate Kid (Special Edition)
“Not every difficult and dangerous thing is suitable for training, but only that which is conducive to success in achieving the object of our effort.”
A good place to look for an example of the “By-Product Myth” is in the 1984 American teen drama, The Karate Kid. The story’s bullied underdog adolescent hero, Daniel LaRusso, is baffled by his karate teacher’s bizarre instructions to wax his car, paint his fence, sand his floor and paint his house, all in a strict series of movements. LaRusso has his early reservations, but has agreed to do what his teacher, Mr. Miyagi, tells him to do and accepts it as a form of chore payment for his karate training. By the fourth day LaRusso’s patience has worn thin and believing he has been conned into being the charismatic karate master’s slave he tells him as much. In perhaps the film’s most memorable moments Miyagi tells his student to demonstrate the series of movements he has been using to complete his chores and, to LaRusso’s amazement, these movements are really blocks to karate strikes. Okay, this is so much celluloid fantasy, but the essence of this idea is embedded in the thought processes of many martial artists. Many imply and outright declare that a student can acquire efficient fighting skills without realizing what they are doing. This is the essence of “The By-Product Myth”.
The By-Product Myth has its roots in the suppression of martial arts and the naivety of early cross-training methods. The former meant that martial arts schools were forced to adapt to a government that didn’t approve of civilians learning potentially dangerous techniques that might be used to train militias. Martial arts schools survived and consequently thrived through either disguising training in dance and cultural practices or as a method for self-improvement rather than actual combat. Of course, the self-defence attributes of training remained, but over time this became accepted just one single element martial arts could provide. Television series like “The Way of the Warrior” sold the concept of the “paradox of martial arts”. This was reinforced by the image of peaceful fighters who learnt these terrible skills so they would never have to use them.
Part of the reason why martial arts, as set disciplines and institutions, thrived was because civilian instructors at the turn of the century were philosophers, educators and religious people who successfully melded their non-combative sides to their martial arts teaching. With less emphasis on actual combat and other more politically correct elements coming into play – sport, aesthetics, health and self-development – efficiency in a self-defence situation just became an accepted skill you acquired through merely participating in the art.
It is interesting to see the way two cultures can diverge in history. Just when countries like Japan and China were doing their best to suppress the combative objectives of their martial arts, the west became intrigued by these properties. E. Barton-Wright, the British founder of the short-lived self-defence system Bartitsu, was fascinated by the idea that Asians studied fighting arts for self-defence purposes. Although there are manuals for self-defence in Europe and boxing had become accepted as the British “Gentlemanly Art of Self Defence”, Barton-Wright felt the need to tell his readers and students that Asians largely studied fighting arts to protect themselves by any means necessary as well as a sport. Meanwhile, Japan was doing its best to convince its government that the arts it now practiced were “Do” as opposed to “Jutsu”. It was a cunning marketing strategy that addressed the powers-that-be’s opposition to anything associated with their feudal past. Meanwhile the Chinese were opening their schools up to a wider range of civilians and, at the same time, convincing their government that their training was not concerned with creating militias and inspiring uprisings. Early marketing included fakir tricks like breaking hard objects with their bare hands and acrobatics to exhibit the athleticism of the teachers. Philosophy had also merged with the teaching of the arts. In Japan the “Do” arts made their way into education and the emphasis continued to be on the development of character rather as a means for combat. For more on this please see my article “Philosophy and Ancient Wisdom” in my “Martial Arts Scepticism” series.
Today your average traditional martial arts school divides its lesson up into sections that have no correlation to each other. Their basic techniques, pre-arranged solo and partner forms, sparring and self-defence sections have very tenuous connections. “Self-defence” is listed as just one in a list of many benefits your typical martial arts class will offer. I recall once being told by a commercial martial arts school owner that it was unwise to use self-defence as a marketing idea. This was despite the fact that surveys have shown that the most common reason why people start martial arts is for self-defence.
When I asked “What happens when someone asks me for self-defence lessons” my commercial friend answered, “That’s great. You build confidence and confidence builds better self-defence”. This is a surprisingly common myth in the martial arts world and I have seen it being promoted in both traditional and mixed martial arts circles. It is an unfortunate cross-contamination from the self-help/positive thinking movement. In truth to be genuinely efficient at something your confidence should be justified by competence and that competence has to come directly from what he feels confident about. You have all the positive will and high self-esteem in the world, but if you cannot match it with actual ability then what you are looking at is delusion. A 12 year old kid can be hugely confident due to his ability to pump an endless number of machine-gun high kicks in a circle or spin an aluminium staff all around his body, but such skills are not going to automatically mean he will be switched onto an intended ambush or be able to deal with the physicality of a fight in the gutter.
The supporters of mindless confidence will lovingly cite the stand-out and exceptionally rare examples of people with zero experience who, through tenacity and willpower alone, pulled off amazing rescues and feats of survival. It’s a sobering thought that the reason why we celebrate these cases is because of their rarity. For every one example of a non-swimmer pulling a drowning comrade to safety there are innumerable stories of amateurs making matters worse or endangering themselves. You will note that your typical First Aid course teaches confidence alongside competence. They are keen to explain that almost anything a person can do in a crisis is often better than nothing, but the skills they are teaching – and in the case of teaching those in the professional emergency sector, said skills are tested under pressure – are designed for the task in hand.
Science and tragic case studies have further proven that we should pay very close attention to how we train. Law enforcement and the military are keen to train their officers and soldiers in ways that best replicate the processes of a realistic situation, but even within these environments unseen problems have resulted in terrible consequences. Understanding the way neural pathways operate is crucial. There has been at least one instance of an officer being stabbed by a knife he handed back to a felon he had just disarmed. This was traced back to the expedient way students will hand back practice knives to the person playing the role of the attacker after they have disarmed them, so they can practice the disarm again. What should have been practiced was to dispose of the blade, finish the whole disarm action, tactically move away and pause before beginning again. A similar incident reported in Dave Grossman’s “Bulletproof Mind” described armed officers caught out in a gun-fight when they collected the ejected brasses off the ground between firing off rounds of bullets. This was traced back to an anal range master who insisted that his gun range be kept tidy and that all shooters collected up all the ejected cartridges once they had fired off a round. This became part of their training and built into their muscle memory.
Incidents like this help illustrate to us how important good and clear training needs to be in order for a student to be competent at self-defence. I focus on self-defence because, interestingly, the By-Product Myth is rarely invoked in other areas of martial arts training. Those who wish to be kata champions do not sacrifice time that could have been spent sharpening up their movements, practicing their point-stop sparring techniques in the belief that this will make their gedan barai look more aesthetically pleasing. Likewise, modern competitive judo has largely dispensed with areas of its original syllabus that do not have a direct application to winning judo matches.
However, not buying into the By-Product Myth does not mean you have to be dismissive of intelligent cross-training. There are huge benefits that can be had from drawing upon abstract experiences and going off on a training tangent. The key point is to be mindful of what you are doing and not to get into self-justification. This is something I will cover in an article called “The Calypso Effect”. However, for the time being awareness of the By-Product Myth will help you to stay on target and to keep your training relevant.
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