Technique- The Scourge of Good Karate
Karateka are obsessed with technique. Every technique needs a name. We must learn the Japanese name (and mispronounce it exactly the way our instructor does). Every technique has “right” way of execution; (“hold your hikite at that position, point your knee in that direction, curl your top lip that way”). Virtually every grading syllabus is a list of techniques. These are listed in order of “difficulty” and each successive ranking examination requires the learning of the next techniques on the list.
This approach is flawed for a number of reasons.
1. That which may be considered “difficult” or advanced by one person may be simple for another. It may also be that the teacher’s prejudices (or abilities) influence the selection of these techniques. The imposition of these prejudices in teaching may then limit the opportunities presented to the student for development. I recall some years ago observing a kids’ taekwondo class where the class, average age around 7 years, were performing jumping, reverse-spinning back thrust kicks on a crash mat propped against a wall. All were coloured belts, low kup grades, and none was in any way phased by what others might consider an “advanced” technique.
2. To teach a “technique” in isolation implies that the technique itself is all-important, and that its form and execution do not vary whatever the circumstances. In actual fact a huge number of external factors will shape and influence the technique- such things as the physiology of the practitioner, the physiology of the opponent, the “style” of the opponent, the surrounding environment, and the relative positions of the protagonists. For example, one idea of a “technically” correct mawashigeri is to raise the rear leg to a side chamber, knee high and shin parallel with the ground, then to drive the kicking hip forward, snapping out the kick in a horizontal locus, and withdrawing along the exact same path. Fine, but what if your opponent is taller than you? A horizontal locus is no good then. What if your opponent is close in? What’s wrong with keeping the chamber low, and the kicking hip back, pointing the knee at 45 degrees to the parallel, and snapping the kick almost vertically into your opponent’s jaw, or floating ribs, then dropping the foot in a plumb vertical, bringing you close enough to hook punch, or to grapple your assailant? This is a perfectly valid “technique” but you won’t find it in most textbooks. By insisting on giving each technique a name, you are immediately imposing constraints upon its execution. Was it not Bruce Lee who implored “ do not mistake the finger pointing at the Moon , for the Moon”?
3. In fighting, it is the result of the conflict that is important, not how it is achieved. There are many parallels to this in sport and there are many valuable lessons that can be drawn from the sporting arena regarding skill acquisition. In track athletics for example, one of the all-time greats, Michael Johnson, would send most traditional coaches into apoplexy with his upright gait and jerky style. Yet he not only gets results, but in his prime was near impossible to beat. That is not to say that all potential athletes should have their style “corrected” to match Johnson’s in attempt to emulate him. Nor, however would it be reasonable to try to change Johnson’s style to a more conventional one and expect the same results. Michael Johnson’s technique is appropriate for him. You may argue that this extreme example is a one-off and that most athletes in general have the same physiology so a common set of rules, in general, will apply. I would suggest though that every individual is unique, and that Michael Johnson is just an extreme example of what is normal variation within any sample. Each athlete must be given individual coaching and his or her own style or technique optimised.
4. Another problem with the “list of techniques” approach is that the student has to wait months, indeed years before he has the full armoury of weapons available to him. In most sports the basic techniques are learnt early and development comes in the honing of the skills to use them. The judo coach and writer, Geof Gleeson spoke of the “spaces between” the techniques being more important than the techniques themselves. What he meant was that the skills required to read an opponent or a match, and to create the conditions in which a throw could be effected are more important than which throw is selected. But if the karateka only has two or three techniques to draw from, his application of those skills is bound to be limited.
5. What about technically imperfect skilful play? I used to train with a guy who won many major titles, including European. One of his top point winners was a gyakuzuki, in which the fist travelled from a high guard in a downward arc to the target, striking initially not with the knuckles at the base of the fingers (seiken) but with the middle knuckles, almost hiraken. This technique would fail an eighth kyu grading, but with this guy’s tall rangy physique and fast delivery proved most effective.
Furthermore, a prescriptive approach to the teaching of technique stifles innovation, and therefore development- both of the individual and of karate as a whole. Where would high-jumping be today if Dick Fosbury had been a slave to convention?
So if this technique-based approach is so flawed, why did it develop and why does it prevail? I believe it developed because it is an easy way to teach. When the first Japanese instructors came to the West they had to deal with a language barrier, cultural differences and the problem of handling relatively large numbers of students in a class. The “monkey see, monkey do” approach satisfies all these concerns. Why does it prevail today? Firstly the resolutely traditional view that “it’s always been done that way” carries a loud voice amongst the white gi brigade. Secondly, to give individual, personal coaching to each student is expensive and time consuming. In an environment where the instructor either has to earn a living, or at least cover the costs of hall rental personal tuition is a luxury that has to fall by the wayside. A drill-hall regime can be safely managed with one teacher per twenty, or indeed 50 or 100 students.
Ok then, you jeer. What’s the alternative? It’s all down to one fundamental premise. It is simply that skill is profoundly more important than technique. Skill is the application of a technique in a real situation. It seems self evident that this is a sensible approach. A syllabus should be constructed around the acquisition of skills, not the assembly of a bag of techniques. Drills and exercises should reflect this philosophy. Individuals should be nurtured to develop their personal aptitudes. Sure this is immensely demanding, and requires a high ratio of teachers to students. It will have the profit men up in arms, but that’s not my problem. If you want to develop excellent athletes, martial artists, human beings, there’s no short cut.
The ideal syllabus then identifies those skills that are most important, and grades them in terms of the level of expertise their execution demands. The coach may then wish to assign a set of drills to train and to test these skills, and incorporate them into a syllabus. Beware however. Do not let these drills become an end in themselves, rather a means. So, for example an eighth kyu requirement may be to achieve precision of footwork, where a fifth kyu may demand more fluidity. A third kyu may be expected to time the footwork with a hand technique (block or parry for example), a second kyu to apply hip movement and a first dan should demonstrate the effective application of a body shift, evasion and counter-attack in a “live” situation. And so on.
To summarise, let the student try the “difficult” techniques at an early stage, and encourage development of skills as the paramount objective. The demands on the teacher are far higher, both in terms of time per student and level of coaching ability needed. Such a syllabus may be difficult to construct, and even harder to assess, but if you require high standards from your students, your own standards must be a cut above. It is simply not good enough to pass first kyu and then “teach” a list of techniques to a horde of squaddies in neat lines. Good karate, skilful karate demands a radically different approach.
ÓMartyn Skipper July 2001
Martyn
Skipper holds third dans in Henka Ryu and Shotokan karate but has avoided the
constraints of style by exposing himself to many schools and styles in 25 years
of training. He is currently practising Shukokai in East Lancashire. To contact
him for seminars, or to discuss any issues from his articles, write to this
magazine, or email him on: martyns@tinyonline.co.uk