A press photo issued by the Japan Press Illustrated Service. The caption on the back reads “Instruction of Halbert and Sword.—The halbert has been instructed from old as a peculiar Japanese military art of women that trains them spiritually at the same time according to then spirit of chivalry. Photo shows girls of the Fifth girls high school of Tokyo practicing the art. (Copyrighted 231). JPI Photos.” Source: Author’s personal collection.

Introduction: Robert Jervis on Confusion and Theory

When I was a graduate student I had the very great pleasure of working as a teaching assistant (TA) for a distinguished professor of international relations named Robert Jervis. Since I had the opportunity to work with him on a number of occasions I learned a fair bit about his teaching style and even his stock stories (a good illustration goes a long way when you are trying to relate the intricacies of IR theory to real world political problems). But one of his anecdotes about the nature of theory has always struck me as particularly illuminating.

When taking Introduction to International Relations undergraduate students were required to read one or more news services daily and look for stories related to the theoretical topics that we were dealing with in the other class readings. Lectures would often begin with a short discussion of what current events revealed about the state of IR theory and vice versa. Exercises like this are nice because they allow a large number of students to enter into an academic conversation in a low stress way.

Still, Prof. Jervis is nothing if not a bit mercurial. His stories and teaching methods invariably come with a twist. During the last week of his introductory classes, just before the final exam, he always had the same conversation with his students. After discussing some item in the news and its relevance to the week’s readings, he would ask the students to sit back and reflect for a moment on what exactly they felt as they read their news blogs or watched CNN.

After all, these students had just had the privilege of spending an entire semester immersed in detailed discussions of international politics. At the end of the day all of the theories of IR are basically designed to make the chaos of international politics understandable. To separate out the signal form the noise, to reveal the essential logic of political life. And all of this material had been painstakingly introduced and discussed by someone who was both a surprisingly generous teacher and one of the great minds of the field.

Prof. Jervis would ask the class, when you sit back and read the news, how do you feel? Do you feel calm and confident? Do you understand everything that happens? Can you predict what will happen next?

This was not the sort of question that students generally wanted to answer. But eventually, after some prodding, a few people would admit that they did not feel that way at all. In fact, following the news had generally become a much less enjoyable activity. It was now a form of work. Yet beyond that it had also become irritating in ways that students often found difficult to articulate. Political leaders could be seen to do things that made no sense. Unexpected events were always rising to the fore, and the utility of IR theory in predicting anything was seen by all as pretty low.

To which Prof. Jervis would literally clap his hand in delight. He always said that when he heard this he knew that his job was done. Before the students enrolled in his class international politics tended not to be much of a puzzle. It certainly didn’t occupy much of their consciousness. Most people simply accept what happened as inevitable. Others, who are more politically inclined, might view major policy choices through the lens of domestic partisanship (that is generally the way that such events are discussed in the popular press). But everyone felt like they had a handle on what was going on.

Yet as you begin to take a much more detailed look at events in the field and the explanations for them generated by the academy, what quickly becomes apparent is that no one really has a handle on this stuff. The more you learn about the various schools of IR thought, the more puzzles begin to emerge on the nightly news. Small items that you would not have ever paid attention to before become the stuff of a graduate student’s nightmare.

Ignorance, it seems, really is bliss. Once we start to seriously examine what we know about the world, we very quickly run up against the limits of our own understanding. And that is never a pleasant process.

I never asked him about it explicitly, but in retrospect it seems that Jervis believed that it was a teacher’s job to give the students the tools that they needed to get to this uncomfortable place, to feel the puzzlement and the irritation for themselves. After that it was the student’s problem to figure out what they were going to do about it.

The discipline of political science, he would tell the students, it not meant to predict the future. Its real purpose is to make sure that new and better questions come raining down in torrents when you watch the news. To learn theory is to invest yourself in a perpetual state of struggle. To study international politics was to discover new levels of confusion. He would then remind the students exactly how much they had paid in tuition for the semester, and ask them whether they thought they had gotten their money’s worth? As I said, he was nothing if not mercurial.

Naganita Class. Okayama City, 1935. Source: Old Japan Photos.

An Afternoon with T. J. Hinrichs

Recently I found myself pondering the lessons of that final discussion with Prof. Jervis. What can one really accomplish in a single undergraduate class? On the one hand these students had learned just enough IR theory to be truly dangerous. Yet looking back I think that we can all remember that there is no more exciting time to be a student.

This same sense of excitement caught up with me earlier this week. Prof. T. J. Hinrichs teaches in the history department of Cornell University. Her research focuses on the development of ancient Chinese medical practices. She is also a dedicated martial artist (Aikido) and she had more than a passing interest in martial arts studies.

In fact, she periodically teaches a class titled the History of the East Asian Martial Arts (HIST 2960/ASIAN 2290). The class is geared towards undergraduates and meets twice a week for a full semester. Anyone interested in checking out her fascinating reading list (and you should be) can see what she is assigning here.

Earlier in the semester Prof. Hinrichs let me know that she had assigned her students a chapter from my book and she invited me to drop by and discuss some Wing Chun history with respect to Chinese approaches to the question of “lineage transmission” within the martial arts. But this introduction to the subject was only meant to take up part of the class time. The rest of it was dedicated to a discussion of the readings and the idea of lineage in a comparative (Chinese vs. Japanese, ancient vs. modern) context. Also in attendance was Maofu Gong, a visiting Prof. of Wushu from Chengdu Sport University who is currently working with the Cornell East Asia Program.

I cannot really speak to the quality of my own remarks, but what I saw happening in that classroom was very exciting. Listening to the students review their readings (which in addition to my own chapter included Hurst’s pioneering Armed Martial Arts of Japan as well as Jeff Takacs’ article “A Case of Contagious Legitimacy: Kinship, Ritual and Manipulation in Chinese Martial Arts Societies“) was enough to give me a serious case of academic jealousy.

Do these students actually appreciate the value of what is going on in their class? One suspects that the answer is probably no. At least not yet. How could they?

It took me years to find the authors and resources to assemble a reading list comparable to the one that these students had just been handed on the first day of class. Yet if you have never been forced to go through the exercise yourself it might be difficult to realize the intrinsic value that lies in something as seemingly simple as a syllabus.

Theoretical knowledge, in practically any subject, is interesting in that it seems to have escaped the rules of economic gravity that govern most of the other goods that people produce. Generally the law of diminishing marginal returns guarantees that the more you have of something, the less benefit each additional unit brings. Yet in a field like martial arts studies the value and interest of the next level of understanding is based rather directly on how much you already know. The more material that you have already been exposed too, the greater the insights that you can gain from the next book or article. The undergraduate students were still working hard at building their basic foundations of historical understanding, but for the more experienced scholars in the room, each discussion topic was ripe with possibilities.

Still, as I look back on the class I realize that the most interesting thing was not the quality of the reading list or even the discussion itself. Rather it was the environment that it was all happening in. When I began to think about these issues my academic career and my martial arts interest were two distinct things. They happened in different physical, and even mental, spaces. Finding a way to bring them together was a challenge.

The experiences of the students in this class, and the expectations that they are forming about the place of the martial arts in the academy, are radically different. It is not only that they now have a chance to discuss the evolution of Budo or Wushu in academically rigorous ways. But this is happening in an environment in which it is simply expected that anything you discuss will also be connected to the broader questions of history, sociology, critical theory and even economics (interestingly a lot of the students in the class were actually economics majors).

The speed and facility with which the class moved between a discussion of the evolution of Choy Li Fut in Guangdong and the alienation of labor during periods of rapid economic development was interesting. Debating the implications of the development of martial arts folklore traditions for how we should understand the evolution of proto-nationalist sentiments in China was fascinating.

These were approaches, concepts and ideas that, working in isolation, I spent years trying to wrap my mind around. And yet for the next generation of students they have become the starting point for any sensible discussion of martial arts studies. Nor is this class an isolated occurrence. There are an increasing number of universities around North America that offer similar classes, and even more professors who are bringing this material into other sorts of courses as new lecture material or special modules.

My afternoon with Prof. Gong and Prof. Hinrichs left me with one very solid conviction. Martial arts studies as a discipline is about to explode. We have seen gratifying growth in the realm of publication as more journals and university presses accept our projects. The uptick in conferences and networking opportunities has been gratifying. And it is increasingly possible for scholars to discuss their research without the sorts of extended apologies that tended to accompany work that was being published even a decade ago.

Yet most of these gains were made in an era when only a few stalwart pioneers were actually teaching this material to undergrads. The current generation of students of students is poised to do fascinating things. They will be just as skilled in the arts and sciences as their predecessors. But unlike most martial arts studies scholars from my generation, they will have been integrating a broad range of works on this subject into their thinking throughout their time as undergraduates.

They will have been in the very unique position to consider, critique and study this material at the same time that they are being introduced to classic concepts and cutting edge research techniques in their other courses. They will be entering graduate programs with puzzles and research questions already in mind. Best of all, they will be emerging as young scholars into an environment in which conferences, monographs and journals dedicated to martial arts studies are increasingly common and accessible.

In the past few years martial arts studies has made immense progress. Yet I predict that it will pale in comparison to both the volume and sophistication of the work that we will be seeing in the next few years. This is going to be a very exciting time. And yet much of the critical work being done to lay the foundations for this eruption is happening quietly, almost entirely out of sight, in classrooms around the country. Of course this is how academic revolutions typically begin. Consider yourself warned.

Does this mean that we are on the verge of solving the critical puzzles of martial arts studies? Prof. Jervis would smirk at the thought. Rapid progress has a way of bringing fresh confusion in its wake. Ultimately that is a good thing. Perhaps the great contribution of this new generation of better trained students will be to see the key issues in need of discussion more clearly than their predecessors.

oOo

Are you interested in reading more about Martial Arts Studies in the classroom?  If so take a look at:

Will Universities Save the Traditional Asian Martial Arts?

Martial Arts: So What? By Adam D. Frank

Martial Arts Studies: Answering the “So what?” question

Austrian National Library in Vienna. Source: Wikimedia. photo by Matl, 2006.

Introduction

As some of you may have noticed, posts here at Kung Fu Tea and on the Facebook group have been coming a little more slowly than normal over the last month. That is because Paul Bowman and I are currently in the middle of the final push to get the inaugural issue of the new journal Martial Arts Studies out the door. This interdisciplinary, peer-reviewed publication will be appearing under the imprint of Cardiff University Press and will be freely available to all readers with an internet connection anywhere in the world. Our goal is to bring you the very best work in the rapidly evolving field of martial arts studies while saving you a trip to your local university library.

I am happy to say that we have been making great progress and all of the various articles and reviews are now in place. While I do not want to give away any spoilers I can say that there will be a lot of good stuff in this issue covering a wide range of substantive topics. Unfortunately the editorial and organizational demands of pulling all of this together have left me with a little less time for blogging over the last month than I would have liked.

Still, the real advantage of being involved with a project like this is that it gives one a “global overview” of what is going on in the different disciplines and even areas of the world. This is a real privilege as the interdisciplinary and transnational nature of the conversation that is starting to take place can be hard to get your hands around. Of course helping readers to do just that is one of our goals for Martial Arts Studies.

As we started to lay the groundwork for the second and third issues of the journal I also had an opportunity to think about the state of the literature in a more holistic way. Typically this is the moment when someone sits down to write a review article or blog post outlining what has happened in recent years, the critical debates that have emerged in the literature, and what it all means for our progress as a field.

All of that is good, but I think that I will leave the exercise for our authors at the journal. Instead I decided that it might be more interesting (and easier) to write a short series of blog posts outlining some of the holes that I have noticed in literature. Specifically, what sorts of research would I like to see emerging in the near future? What kinds of conversations might help to move the field forward?

Obviously there are an almost infinite number of projects that could be written in an area like martial arts studies, and to be perfectly honest I would probably end up reading all of them. But to be fun, a blog post like this one must begin by setting out some ground rules. So I have decided that each of these lists will contain only five items. Further, we must specify at the outset whether we are looking for books or articles, as the sorts of projects that you can tackle in these two formats are very different. Lastly, I am going to organize my lists thematically.

In today’s post we will be looking for five book projects all of which fall within the domain of “Chinese martial studies.” In future posts we will branch out to other areas (maybe “Gender in Martial Arts Studies” or “Comparative Ethnographies”) and formats (journal articles or grant proposals).

Now that the ground rules have been clarified, it is time to get on to our list. Here are the five Chinese martial studies that I would most like to see in the next few years, as well as a brief discussion of what the significance of a project like this might be.

Bring on the Books

1. The Sage and the Warrior: Merging the Medical and the Martial in Late Ming Dynasty. By (an established name in the field). Hawaii University Press, 2018.

This is a book that would have great appeal to both academic and popular audiences. We know that during the late Ming dynasty a remarkable synthesis of Chinese martial arts techniques, medical theories and immortality practices began to emerge. Why? Given the interest in very practical pursuits (such as training militia troops) that are also seen in period texts, why did certain groups begin to turn to unarmed boxing and more “cultural pursuits” prior to the destruction of the Ming dynasty? Meir Shahar briefly describes this process and discusses its significance in his study of the Shaolin Monastery. Yet given the ongoing popularity of medical and spiritual practices within the TCMA, these are questions that demand a dedicated study of their own.

Specifically, why did the synthesis of the martial and medical first emerge in this period? How did its popularity spread among certain elites? To what extent did these beliefs have a direct or indirect impact of martial arts reformers in the late Qing and Republic? And lastly, what does this suggest about our understanding of the nature of Chinese popular culture during these periods?

Who would read this book? My guess is that pretty much every martial artist interested in the traditional martial arts or Qigong would want to get their hands on this. It would be seen as a natural continuation of the conversation started in Shahar’s book about Shaolin. I suspect that such a text might also have a good chance of appealing to an academic audience as well. Researchers in the field of Chinese medical history as well as Martial Arts Studies would both need to be familiar with a work like this. And it might develop a following among students of late imperial history. Properly executed this is the sort of project that could make waves.

Morning Taiji group in Bryant Park, New York City.

2. Taijiquan’s Journey to the West: A Social History. By (a young scholar with a background in the social sciences or theory). California UP, 2017.

I have always been a big fan of the comparative case study method. But this does not mean that we need to fill every book with a dozen cases on six different styles. It is also helpful to have longer works that really examine a single case in greater depth. Another book can look at a different set of observations. When we set two or three such volumes side by side, some really interesting questions generally start to emerge. That is a great way for a research program to evolve.

Without a doubt Taijiquan is the most recognizable and widely practiced of all the Chinese martial arts. And its popularity extends far beyond the borders of the Chinese state. Anyone interested in globalization cannot help but be struck by the fact that what is often taken as a marker of “Chinese identity” has, in the current period, become an extremely successful (and flexible) transnational practice.

How did this come about? How was Taijiquan introduced to the West? How did it develop over the decades? What continues to draw individuals to these practices? How have the transnational communities that they form change over time? What role has the media and cultural discourse played in the meaning and acceptance of this art?

Obviously such questions would be of great interest to Western students of Taijiquan. They also touch on a number of critical academic issues. Indeed, this would seem to be an ideal case study to test and challenge various established theories on the working of “Orientalism,” “commodification” and “cultural appropriation” in the capitalist west. These concepts are touchstones of Critical Theory. But what would a finely grained study of the growth of Taijiquan between 1950 and 2000 reveal about their strengths and limits?

A scene from the Monkey God Festival. Source: Photo by Samuel Judkins.

3. The Martial Arts of a Diaspora: Chinese Heritage, Local Identity and Nationalism in Malaysia and Indonesia. By (an Ethnographer.) SUNY Press, 2019.

I envision this one more as an ethnographic exercise. An anthropologist and martial artist doing research among the Kung Fu societies of the South East Asian diaspora would have access to a very rich research area. Obvious questions that might be asked would include how the practice of the traditional fighting arts have contributed to the maintenance, and construction, of unique types of identity under challenging circumstances (including the outlawing of the use of Chinese names and writing). Even more interesting might be an investigation of the sorts of networks and practitioner communities that have developed linking these diaspora schools to their counterparts in the PRC or Taiwan. What role do shared practice, ritual and pilgrimage play in the creation of a community? Does new communication technology strengthen or undermine these networks? How do transnational networks react in the face of local threats and sometimes violent competition?

One suspects that the audience for a book like this would be more academic in nature. Yet it might continue to draw in a broad range of readers. Obviously the question of identity and nationalism among the Chinese diaspora is a topic that has already received sustained interest. However there is also interest in works that deal with community conflict and violence in the Malay World. The growing influence of China in the region will only make these questions more acute for both social and security theorists.

An iconic image of a Japanese “Warrior Monk.” Notice the nagamaki he holds in his left hand, the trademark weapon of the Sohei in much the same way that the long pole became the signature weapon of the Shaolin order.

4. Warrior Monks in a Comparative Context: Shaolin vs. the Sohei, by (A comparative religion scholar). Cambridge UP, 2020.

Simply put, it is hard to imagine who would not want to read this book. Almost no topic has proved to have more enduring appeal in the world of the Chinese martial arts than Shaolin’s warrior monk tradition. And a great many Japanese martial artists are just as interested in the often mythologized memory of the naginata wielding Sohei monks.

Such a comparative study would also raise some important academic issues. Buddhist monasteries in both Japan and China were major landowners, and at certain times important political players. Why and how did they sometimes resort to violence? What can we learn about the comparative Buddhist theology of violence within these two states? How did the relationship between religious power player and the state vary between Japan and China? And by what means have the memories of monastic warriors continued to play a critical role in the popular cultures of both states, long after the disappearance of the sorts of individuals that these images were ostensibly based on?

Depending on how the research was approached such a work could be of interest to either comparative religion or political history researchers with an East Asian focus. Such a work would also take the first step towards providing a series of focused historical comparative studies that are badly needed if Martial Arts Studies is to progress.

The Collected Works of Sun Lutang.

5. Martial Arts Studies in China Today: A Reader. By Various. Rowman and Littlefield. 2017.

This one might seem like I am cheating. As I mentioned in the introduction, I wanted to save the articles for another post. A good article and a good book are often two very different animals. Still, Martial Arts Studies has a tradition of quality edited volumes and there is a real need for this one.

As I mentioned earlier, the emerging field of martial arts studies is not the exclusive property of any one state or language. It is a transnational field with good work being produced in Universities around the globe. There is currently a very active German language literature on these topics, and University programs in Japan, Korea and China have been producing work on the Asian martial arts for years.

The Chinese literature will be of special interest to readers of Kung Fu Tea. Starting in the late 1980s or early 1990s there was a noticeable uptick in the volume and quality of work being produced on the Chinese martial arts. A number of Universities and Wushu Departments even created their own journals dedicated to these subjects. The quality of some of this work can be uneven, but there are also a number of talented researchers doing very interesting things who are rarely discussed in the West.

Only a few reviews of this literature have been produced in recent years. Stanley Henning has written more on this topic than anyone else, and I briefly reviewed parts of this literature in the introduction to my recent work on the history of Wing Chun. Lorge and Morris have also drawn on it in their respective works. Yet if martial arts studies truly wishes to advance as a transnational research area, it is critical to encourage a much deeper engagement with the work of scholars in the Chinese language literature.

Given that not all Martial Arts Studies scholars are China specialists, this points to the necessity of translating some of the best scholarship from the Chinese language literature in English language collected volumes or special journal editions. Likewise selected examples of current Western scholarship should be translated and disseminated in Chinese.

It is important to note that these two literatures have developed along basically separate lines with only occasional engagement outside of the work of a few specialized scholars (again Shahar and Henning come to mind). Yet some of the insights of Chinese scholars should be made available to a much wider range of martial arts studies readers.

Obviously such projects pose a number of challenges. One must get the cooperation of a large number of authors and publishers before going forward. And the potential readership of this project is probably limited compared to the other books that we have discussed. A project like this would most likely find a home in a specialized martial arts studies book series from a commercial press. Yet the potential long-term academic payoff on this investment is huge.

Conclusion

There you have it. These are some of the book length projects that we would most like to see in the field of Chinese Martial Studies over the next few years. I tried to choose topics that focused on a variety of time periods, geographic areas, styles and research methods. My hope is that everyone will find an idea that is somewhat interesting in this list. Yet it by no means exhausts the sort of research projects that we might see, or the variety of directions that this particular branch of martial arts studies might evolve in.

So what about you? If you could choose a book to read (or write) in the next few years, what would it be? Why? How would such a project further the development of martial arts studies as an interdisciplinary project?

oOo

If you enjoyed this post you might also want to read: Five Moments that Transformed Kung Fu

oOo

The Creation of Wing Chun by Judkins and Nielson.

Introduction

I try to stick to a Monday/Friday posting schedule, but every once in a while something comes up and I have to break from routine.  This week the surprise is a very pleasant one.  Earlier in the summer my co-author, Jon Nielson, and I had the pleasure of discussing our recent book and the current state of martial arts studies with Gene Ching.  As many of you already know, Gene is the Editor of Kung Fu Tai Chi magazine, one of our favorite publications.  He has also been very proactive in bringing some of the more important authors in Chinese martial studies (scholars like Meir Shahar and Peter Lorge) to the attention of his readership.  Yesterday I got a follow-up email letting me know that the first part of our interview had gone live on the Kung Fu Tai Chi webpage.  You can see the original here.

We have had the chance to do a couple of interviews following the release of our book, but this one was by far the most detailed and thoughtful.  We really appreciated the fact that Gene engaged directly with the substance of what we were trying to accomplish.  The entire interview ended up being long enough that they decided to split it into two parts.  I have re-blogged the first section of the discussion here, and readers can watch Kung Fu Tai Chi magazine for the second half, which is due to be released soon.  Also be sure to watch for an upcoming interview with Paul Bowman in the same space.  Enjoy!

Ip Man practices Chi Sao With Moy Yat.

Interview

Benjamin N. Judkins holds a doctoral degree in political science from Columbia University. Jon Nielson is chief instructor at Wing Chun Hall in Salt Lake City, Utah. They have joined forces to write THE CREATION OF WING CHUN: A SOCIAL HISTORY OF THE SOUTHERN CHINESE MARTIAL ARTS, published by the esteemed scholarly press SUNY. The work covers much more than just Wing Chun. Part I: Hand Combat, Identity, and Civil Society in Guangdong, 1800–1949, is a fascinating read for any serious student of Kung Fu. It provides an inclusive timeline for Jingwu, Hung Mun, Hung Sing, Hakka, and the Central Guoshu Academy from a socioeconomic perspective that is insightful and thought-provoking. This is one of the most exciting new contributions to the field. I had the opportunity to discuss this book with the authors.

GC: You are both Wing Chun practitioners obviously. Tell us a little about your background with this style and why you came to practice it.

BJ: While I had some interest in the martial arts, I had never really considered studying a Chinese style before moving to Salt Lake City about ten years ago. While working at the University of Utah my wife decided that she wanted to take a self-defense class. I did a little bit of research on what was available in the area and it looked like Wing Chun might be a good fit, and I agreed to sign up for a class with her. That is how I first met Sifu Jon Nielson.

While we both enjoyed the class, I was struck with how differently Wing Chun approached basic questions of movement from the Japanese and Korean arts I was more familiar with. I felt compelled to dig deeper to try to understand what was going on at both a physical and historical level.

JN: I had practiced several styles of martial arts before I stumbled on Wing Chun. All of the others left me with questions as to how and when to apply the different techniques and how they all fit together. Wing Chun immediately started answering those questions for me, and it has continued to be a source of investigation and discovery from that time until now.

Ben Judkins

GC: Ben, your blog, Kung Fu Tea, has been going since 2012. For those of our readers who aren’t familiar with Kung Fu Tea, explain what your intentions for this are. What inspired you to launch this? Has it met with your expectations so far?

BJ: There were a few different reasons why I started that blog. By the summer of 2012 most of the basic writing and research on our book was already done and I was getting ready to start shopping the manuscript to university presses. That can be a long process even under the best of circumstances (academic publisherS tend to move slowly compared to commercial ones), and since our volume was attempting to further a relatively new research area, I expected that there might be some delays.

Starting a blog seemed like a great way to use some of the down-time during the review process. It has allowed me to systematically explore other areas of the Chinese martial arts that I might not have otherwise engaged with. Finally, Kung Fu Tea has been really helpful in pulling together a community of individuals who shared our passion for a more academic approach to the martial arts. Anyone who is interested in checking out the blog can find it at chinesemartialstudies.com.

Kung Fu Tea has far exceeded my initial expectations. The last few years have seen an increase of interest in the martial arts by both scholars and graduate students in a variety of fields. And it turns out that a surprising number of martial arts practitioners are also interested in seeing the growth of a more rigorous discussion of the history, sociology and cultural meaning of these fighting systems. In fact, while attending the recent Martial Arts Studies conference at the University of Cardiff, I had an opportunity to meet readers from all over the world who were coming together to present and discuss their own research. It was an incredibly exciting moment. I think that opening a door to these sorts of conversations is about the best thing that an academic blog can do.

GC: What inspired you to write THE CREATION OF WING CHUN?

JN: When I met Ben in 2005, I had been studying and practicing Wing Chun for 25 years, but I had yet to see anyone do a serious treatment of Wing Chun’s origins. Back then, very few people took martial studies seriously as an academic pursuit. Any attempt at ferreting out Wing Chun’s origins was done through oral stories that isolated themselves from any real history.

I was interested in what else was going on socially, politically, economically and religiously. I thought that if we could get a better idea of how those movements corresponded with the developing martial arts, we might have a better idea of the events that shaped what eventually became known as Wing Chun.

When Ben told me that he was a political scientist with an interest in anthropology, I asked him if he was interested in researching this topic. Ten years later, they’re finally publishing our book.

Sifu Jon Nielson

BJ: Sifu Nielson was really the driving force behind the genesis on this project. After studying with him for a while he told me about his desire to create a book that would explain the origin and nature of Wing Chun in a historical way, rather than one that simply replicated the oral folklore that surrounds the Chinese martial arts. At the same time that he approached me with this idea, I had been working on a conference paper looking at a few different aspects of the Boxer Uprising which erupted at the turn of the 20th century in northern China.

I realized that beyond simply telling the story of Wing Chun, the evolution and development of the Chinese martial arts provided a really important window onto the sorts of social conflict and disruptions that accompanied the advance of imperialism, trade and globalization in China during the 19th century. In many ways these forces shaped the development of what we now think of as the traditional martial arts. Nowhere was that more apparent than in southern China. So this book really grew out of the realization that the answer to the specific question of how Wing Chun evolved had broader implications for all sorts of questions about globalization, identity formation and social conflict in late 19th and early 20th century China.

GC: Tell me a little bit about the title of your book? What does it convey and what sort of audience are you trying to reach?

BJ: Our title went through a couple of iterations. My original idea was “Rebels on Red Boats: A Social History of the Southern Chinese Martial Arts.” I loved that it captured the romanticism of the Cantonese Opera Rebellion (otherwise known as the Red Turban Revolt) and the ways in which its memory has echoed through the history of the martial arts in that area. It also emphasized the fact that this book really addresses the milieu that all of the southern Chinese martial arts emerged from. So if you are a Choy Li Fut or Hung Gar practitioner, you may find something in here that is interesting. All of these arts emerged from the same general area and historical processes. That was one of the things that we were ultimately trying to get at.

However, our publisher thought a more specific and tightly focused title that emphasized Wing Chun might be better. And that is certainly true. In the second half of the book we outline Wing Chun’s rise both as a regional and later as a global art. Still, you cannot really divorce that narrative from everything else that was going on around it, both socially, politically, and in the world of the martial arts. And I still think that “Rebels on Red Boats” has a nice ring to it. Maybe we will save it for a future project.

GC: I was really impressed by Part 1 of your book. It’s one of most cohesive histories of the development of southern Kung Fu since the fall of the Qing I’ve read so far. What were some of the unique approaches and challenges you encountered when tackling this?

BJ: I think that the main thing was just that this is a relatively new exercise in what is still a theoretically developing research area. Douglas Wile really demonstrated the possibility for this sort of project with his 1996 volume, The Lost T’ai-chi Classics from the Late Ch’ing Dynasty (also published by the State University of New York Press). Meir Shahar’s volume on Shaolin and Peter Lorge’s wider historical work helped us to build a case that there is both an academic and popular audience for this sort of work beyond what you might expect.

Still, there had not yet been a really focused (English language) academic study of the southern Chinese martial arts. We were left to search through the existing literature in order to pull together a compelling vision of what was going on in the region that could account both for the broad outlines of the development of southern Kung Fu, but also suggest some new and interesting areas for investigation that might not have been as obvious at the outset. And since we were also free to define the theoretical scope of this project, we wanted to do something that would demonstrate the inherent strength of an interdisciplinary approach in tackling questions like these.

One of the things which surprised us both was that once we got into it, we found that there was already a fair amount of information in the historical and social scientific literature on the region. More than one might expect at any rate. Yet previous scholars had not been looking specifically at the martial arts and there was very little sense of what was relevant or how these discrete things fit together.

JN: Mainly what got in the way was what had been done on the Wing Chun creation myth previous to our efforts. You find that people have a strong tendency to cling to old notions, even when evidence to the contrary is right in front of them. We had to sort through and discard a lot of poor scholarship to get to the bottom of what was really going on. What we found, though, was that much of what we had been looking for was already published in scholarly books and articles. It’s just that no one had put it all together before.

GC: What aspects of Chinese history do you find are the most misunderstood amongst Chinese martial arts aficionados?

BJ: The traditional martial arts are a topic that many people feel very passionately about, and yet there is a lot of room for misunderstanding. Mostly we get the setting all wrong. One of the main difficulties in explaining the deeper history of these arts is that most people have very little idea what traditional Chinese society itself looked like. This is not necessarily an easy thing to reconstruct and there are many historians who have dedicated their entire careers to those questions.

What we found when looking at events in the Pearl River Delta region was that the martial arts did not really exist as a set of separate or independent institutions apart from the rest of society. These organizations tended to be supported by, and deeply implicated in the competition between, powerful lineage clans, economic guilds (and later trade unions), secret societies, the government, social movements and political factions. Changes in this broader social environment were often the precondition for big shifts in how the martial arts were organized.

A really exciting thing about Chinese martial studies as an academic research area is that it opens a very detailed window onto the interactions of these diverse actors. Yet most often the histories of the martial arts are discussed without this sort of social context. In that case, even if all of the facts that you have learned are true, they are not likely to be all that meaningful.

I think that many readers initially approach the Chinese martial arts as something impossibly ancient that emerged only in sacred temples on some misty mountain. In that sense they have become a typical Orientalist fantasy for Western consumers. Most of the hand combat teachers critical to our current styles lived in the 19th and 20th centuries. That means that when we think about the “traditional” martial arts, we are dealing with a pretty modern body of practices and meanings. As Douglas Wile has reminded us:

“Anything earlier than the Republican period (1911–1949) tends to slip into the mists of “ancient China,” and we often overlook the fact that Yang Lu-ch’an and the Wu brothers were of the same generation as Darwin and Marx, and that the Li brothers were contemporaries of Einstein, Freud and Gandhi. Railroads, telegraphs, and missionary schools were already part of the Chinese landscape, and Chinese armies (and rebels) sometimes carried modern Western rifles…It is our proposition, then, that this watershed period in the evolution and theory of t’ai-chi chüan did not take place in spite of larger social and historical events but somehow in response to them.” (Wile, 3)

Wile’s remarks on this point are important and bear repeating. In some ways the popular discussion of Chinese martial arts have progressed a lot since he wrote those words in 1996, and yet there is still this disturbing sense that somehow these fighting systems are primeval, existing outside of the push and pull of ordinary historical or social forces. One of the goals of our work has been to provide a framework that will strongly ground discussions of Wing Chun, and the other Southern martial arts, within the flow of actual social, economic and political history.

For Part 2, stay tuned to KungFuMagazine.com.

Kendo and Judo as part of life in the Japanese Navy. Source: Vintage Postcard. Author’s personal collection.

Introduction

The martial arts can speak to a number of important questions, but perhaps to none as directly as popular attitudes towards violence. Much of my recent research has looked at what the organization of martial arts groups in China reveals about the nature of social conflict. Yet for those who share my interest in the modern martial arts and conflict, it is hard to imagine a case study quite as rich as the Pacific theater of the Second World War (WWII).

During the years prior to the outbreak of this conflict martial arts played many roles within the domestic political discourses of both Japan and China. Hand combat reformers argued that they were an inexpensive means by which the state could reform physical education in schools, promote physical fitness among the general population and improve public health. Yet they were also turned to as vehicles for promoting nationalism, strengthening state control of civil society and structuring the ways that civilian populations would perceive other peoples in the coming conflict.

The idea that these fighting systems somehow revealed essential truths about the Japanese (and later Chinese) people even aided the explosion in popularity which these same systems enjoyed in the West after the close of hostilities. Still, as many scholars have previously argued, the seemingly immutable links between the Asian martial arts and specific ethnolinguistic identities were ultimately a byproduct of specific political discourses, the efforts of individual reformers and the power of “invented traditions.”

In today’s post I would like to take a look at a couple of period artifacts that help to illustrate the process by which these discourses were created and spread throughout society. Both of the postcards that we will be discussing were printed in Japan during WWII and were intended to illustrate and humanize scenes of daily military life. Presumably these sorts of images were created for the benefit of both the soldiers who might have bought them as well as their families back home.

These seem to have been fairly popular and it is not hard to find them in auctions and specialized collections. They exist in multiple series, some of which focus on the army, while others tackle the challenges of naval life. I have always suspected that some of them were actually reprinted after the end of the war, but because postcards are usually not dated I have yet to definitively confirm this.

As one might expect the vast majority of images presented on these cards have nothing to do with the martial arts. Topics such as “swabbing the decks”, eating lunch in the field and feeding the horses dominate these series. Yet a few cards in each series seem to be dedicated explicitly to the practice of hand combat.

This is not surprising as martial arts training had become a mandatory part of most primary and secondary educational programs in Japan during the late Meiji period. The military itself also made use of various martial disciplines in its training. Sumo wrestling, judo and kendo are all well represented in these series and soldiers are seen both participating in these events as well as watching them as spectators. Yet this does not exhaust the limits of the artist’s martial imagination. From time to time we even catch glimpses of the Chinese martial arts as well, always seen from the perspective of victorious Japanese soldiers.

Before going on I should make a couple of final notes. First, I would like to thank Dr. Jared Miracle for providing me with a rough translation of the contents of these postcards on very short notice. He was also kind enough to share some of his thoughts on these images. Any errors of omission or commission in the discussion below are mine alone.

Another vintage Japanese postcard showing kendo practice on a battleship. Source: Author’s personal collection.

 
Kendo in the Navy Life

Our first postcard focuses on traditional fencing and judo. Of all of the martial themes that appear on these postcards, swords and the practice of kendo are by far the most common. While we in the West tend only to imagine karate or judo when discussing the Japanese martial arts, this emphasis on sword-play accurately represents the importance of kendo in the development of Japan’s martial arts culture during the pre-war period. While it is nice to see a portrayal of ship-board kendo training on this postcard, the brief mention of judo is what makes it really standout in my opinion.

When reading a Japanese cartoon, proceed from right to left, and top to bottom. A rough translation of dialog runs as follows:

Banner: “Gekiken”

Fencing Sailor 1: “He enjoys taking that posture/stance he learned.”

Officer: “Like some kind of ‘Sword Barbarian,’ eh?”

Fencing Sailor 2: “Here I come!”

Judo Guy: “We really prefer judo over gekiken.”

At first glance this postcard would seem to accurately capture a fairly mundane moment in the life of many sailors. Ample photographic evidence exists to demonstrate that shipboard kendo practice and competition was common in the Japanese navy. In fact, I have other photographic postcards that show scenes that are almost identical to the one portrayed in the postcard above. In one sense this image is interesting precisely because it replicates such a mundane moment in time.

Nevertheless, the cartoon is more interesting than its photographic brethren in that they do not attempt to tell us anything about what the various participants in these activities are thinking. Or at least what those who were employing these images to create a certain discourse linking martial arts practice and military service wanted us to believe that they were thinking.

For instance, given that practically all Japanese high school students practiced kendo at one time or another, it may be significant that the side banner on this postcard identifies the scene as one of “gekiken” (or old style fencing) rather than kendo. While I am not an expert in Japanese martial arts history (most of my own research being focused on China), one suspects that this reflects the debate that emerged in the 1930s where certain military officers and martial artists began to worry that “modernized” kendo (which had developed more as a means of self-cultivation and competition) was no longer preparing officers with practical battlefield skills. In fact, Japanese swordsmen faced a number of setbacks when they first entered the Chinese field.

Hence the “older” approach to fencing went into revival during the WWII period in an attempt to update the skills of Japanese soldiers for the modern battlefield. In that sense it may be interesting to observe that the second swordsman appears to be using unorthodox “barbarian” techniques that the first is being forced to adjust to.

This card also appears to intentionally juxtapose such “rough and tumble” combat training techniques with the more structured, fraternal and even “gentle” nature of judo training. While many soldiers practiced judo, the art itself never seems to have undergone the same transformation that gripped the kendo world. This juxtaposition of two different approaches to the martial arts seems to provide the narrative thread that runs through this card.

Glorious Deeds of Arms

Banner: “Glorious Deeds of Arms: Prisoners of War and Spoils of War”

Japanese Officer: “This is banned dum-dum ammunition.”

Japanese Soldier: “Yeah, we also captured the enemy’s tank(s)!”

Captured Chinese Soldier: “POWs certainly enjoy the Japanese Army’s kindness.”

Japanese Soldier: “I’d really like (or it would be nice) to take this Green Dragon Blade home as a souvenir, eh?”

Our second image turns its attention to the infantry in occupied China. There is no indication within the picture to indicate where or when this scene is supposed to have taken place. But photographs of such “victory scenes,” where Japanese soldiers are shown posing with confiscated weapons (or occasionally at important landmarks) are commonly found in soldiers’ photo albums from the period. Again, one of the most interesting aspects of this image is its intentionally generic nature. Images of such scenes were frequently recorded and then reproduced on a massive scale for consumption by viewers on the home front.

The great advantage of the illustrated format of this particular image is that it provides the artist with a way to tell us what is (or should be) going on in the heads of individual soldiers. The first individuals who speaks is probably meant to be an officer (note the mustache, katana, and high leather boots). His interest is focused on the more modern and deadly aspects of the Chinese military. In this case it has just been discovered that the Chinese soldiers in question were armed with “dum-dum” rounds.

This is a slang term for any bullet that is designed to mushroom or expand on impact to inflict more damage on its victim. The name itself is a historical reference to the Dum Dum arsenal in India where the British experimented with such ammunition in the late 19th century before it was banned by the Geneva Convention. While it is not uncommon to come across references to “dum-dum rounds” in English language discussions, I was previously unaware that the term had entered conversational Japanese in the 1930s.

Notice also that the next speaker emphasizes the mechanized nature of the Chinese army by pointing to the captured tank on the far right of the image. The viewer is not meant to feel pity for a “poorly equipped” Chinese army. Obviously this is a fine line to walk given what is going on at the left-hand side of the card. But the “testimony” of the captured Chinese soldiers themselves notes that we need not be concerned for their welfare. Of course this is one place where the images presented by the official propaganda and actual historical events are different in profound ways.

On the left side of the card a very different conversation appears to be happening at exactly the same moment. Here two soldiers pick through a pile of traditional weapons that have been confiscated. One holds a classic dadao aloft, while the other hefts a guandao. He refers to this weapon as a “Green Dragon Blade.”

In so doing he explicitly identifies the weapon as that wielded by the hero Guan Yu in the classic novel The Romance of the Three Kingdoms. The same story was very popular in Japan (where it often went by the title Sangokushi). In fact, this one work has spawned literally countless derivative novels, stories, plays, woodblock prints, poems, manga and movies between the late Tokugawa period and today. It has occupied an important place within Japanese popular culture for literally centuries.

A captured Chinese dadao being held by a Japanese soldier. Note the unique saw back blade. Source: Author’s Personal Collection.

Conclusion: The Martial Arts and Modernity

Both of our postcards have built stories around the physical trappings of the martial arts. In the first image we see sailors, faces obscured by kendo masks, training on a ship with bamboo swords. In the second image we instead find real swords, won in an actual fight, while their former owners look on passively. And in both cases the martial arts are shown to be an aspect of the modern battlefield rather than a purely cultural exercise.

Still, it is interesting to consider this relationship with modernity in a slightly more detailed way. The subtle comparison between Japanese gekiken and judo suggests an acute awareness that martial practices in Japan were evolving and changing in response to things happening in their environment. Interestingly, the various martial artists within the image seem to have mixed opinions on the value of these trends. While the two swordsmen throw themselves into the newly revived “old style” fencing practice, the judo players behind them look on with some degree of incredulity. All of this indicates a high level of social literacy regarding the sorts of political debates that were happening within the world of the Japanese martial arts.

In contrast the Japanese vision of the Chinese martial arts seems to be frozen in time. More specifically, it is frozen in a vision of an “Orientalized” past defined by the immensely popular Sangokushi which dominated much of Japanese popular culture throughout the 20th century. This is fascinating as the widespread adoption of the dadao by Chinese troops was in some ways just as recent a trend as the innovations in Japanese military fencing that the first postcard seemed to be commenting on.

Nor did these cards show the Chinese as having only obsolete equipment. Theirs was a mechanized force complete with artillery. How “glorious” could “deeds of arms” be when unleashed against a vastly inferior enemy? Still, while the Japanese fighting arts were viewed as an evolving part of a modern military structure, their Chinese counterparts are reduced to essentialist markers of ethnolinguistic identity. Further, this identity is made accessible to Japanese consumers and readers through the popular novels and media of their day.

There are a number of interesting points to take away from this brief discussion. While forces within Japanese society sought to use their traditional martial arts to promote certain ideological and nationalist positions, readers appear to have been aware of recent changes in how these arts were practiced and political debates within the martial community. This is the opposite of the sort of allochronism that one might expect to see. Secondly, Japanese readers are expected to have some interest in (and familiarity with) the practice of Chinese boxing. If nothing else traditional Chinese weapons are shown as desirable war souvenirs.

Yet these practices are understood only through political discourses and media representations that have the effect of stripping them of their actual history. This misperception of the true nature of the Chinese martial arts becomes one step in the process of reducing them markers of an inferior ethnolinguistic identity that must be overcome or controlled. This would seem to suggest that the misunderstanding of someone else’s martial arts history is at least as dangerous as accepting a false narrative of one’s own practices.

Guan Yu as shown by Utagawa Kuniyoshi in his collection of prints from the Sangokushi.

If you enjoyed these images you might also want to see:  Through a Lens Darkly (31): Red Spears, Big Swords and Civil Resistance in Northern China

Knowing others is wisdom;
Knowing the self is enlightenment.
Mastering others requires force;
Mastering the self needs strength.
He who knows he has enough is rich.
Perseverance is a sign of willpower.
He who stays where he is endures.
To die but not to perish is to be eternally present.

Robert James Coons. 2015. Internal Elixir Cultivation: The Nature of Daoist Meditation.  Tambuli Media. 140 pp. $22.95

Introduction

Recently Dr. Mark Wiley, who runs Tambuli Media, sent me a copy of a book that he thought I would find interesting. Just for the record I am currently trying to convince Dr. Wiley to visit Kung Fu Tea and present a guest post looking at some of his own academic research on the social history and sociology of the Filipino martial arts. But given my interest in the traditional Chinese martial arts and “new religious movements” he suggested that I take a look at Robert James Coons’ recent volume, Internal Elixir Cultivation: The Nature of Daoist Meditation (Tambuli, 2015).

I was more than happy to agree as this volume touches on a number of subjects that have been on my mind. At first glance this might not seem like the sort of work that I would review here at Kung Fu Tea. Generally I focus on books about the history or sociology of the martial arts rather than manuals of their actual performance. And this text is only tangentially related to the martial arts.

As the title suggests, it is an introduction to Daoist meditation practices written from a practitioners (rather than a religious studies scholars’) perspective. While that sort of subject might be of interest to certain Taijiquan players or students of other internal styles, many martial artists (including those in my own lineage) would be quick to point out that their practice has little to do with Daoism.

The relationship between the Chinese martial arts and religion (usually in the guise of Chan Buddhism or some form of Daoist practice) has been one of the more contentious subjects to emerge in scholarly discussions of the origins and meaning of the traditional Chinese martial arts. Popular wisdom seems to uncritically accept the assumption that all of these fighting systems emerged from the well-spring of religious traditions. This generally dovetails with the often repeated assumption that the martial arts “are not really about fighting” but are instead an embodied technology designed to promote greater discipline, self-actualization and possibly even some sort of “transcendence.”

Various voices in the scholarly community have pushed back against these assertions. Peter Lorge and Stanley Henning have both noted that most of the actual motivations driving people into the martial arts during the late imperial period were of a distinctly pragmatic and non-spiritual nature. The threat (and promise) of economically motivated banditry probably did more to advance the martial arts in China’s 19th century countryside than any other single factor.

Yet as Meir Shahar might remind us, the tendency to see a grand alliance of esoteric medicine, self-defense skills and powerful tools for spiritual transcendence within the TCMA, cannot simply be dismissed as some sort of “New Age” concoction. While a distinct undercurrent for much of the late imperial period, this powerful synthesis, itself a symptom of other forms of philosophical and cultural syncretism which gripped Ming society, is clearly visible in the extent descriptions of the 16th and 17th century Shaolin arts.

This same combination of interest would reemerge in a powerful way during the Republic period (see the development of Sun Lutang’s Taijiquan style as an important example of this trend). And even in the current era of MMA’s ascendancy, the vision of a truly comprehensive fighting, health and spiritual system still exerts a powerful pull on the public’s imagination.

Yet what exactly are individuals imagining? Given the pace of social change and the realities of global translation, it seems unlikely that the martial dreams of a Taiji student in Bryant Park today would be fully compatible with those of his counterpart in Shanghai in the 1920s (to say nothing of a village in Henan in 1710).

This is a question that I have always found to be a bit challenging. My practical interests lay in the field of Southern Kung Fu rather than the classic northern “internal arts.” Further, my academic research has focused on questions of social organization, structural conflict and violence rather than religious history or individual belief.

Yet it is hard to deny the centrality of these associations to the modern perceptions of what the Chinese martial arts are and should be. Coons’ book is interesting to me as a primary text speaking to these questions. How have western students of the TCMA approached Daoism? What sorts of individual practices are currently popular? Which religious texts or media discourses inform these practices? What does this reveal about religious change in western society today? And what hints, if any, does this provide as to the motivations of those who continue to seek out the Chinese martial arts?

A careful reader armed with the appropriate body of critical or social scientific theory may find some interesting answers to each of these questions within the pages of this slim volume. Serious scholarship on these issues will require a much larger body of observation than a single book. Still, the clarity, brevity and careful construction of this work make it a good place to start.

One room schoolhouse. October 2012, Conewango Valley. Photo Credit: Benjamin Judkins

Reviewing the Book

Before delving into a couple of these more theoretical questions, I should begin by saying a couple of words about Coons’ book itself. The author is a long time student of Daoism who has also been involved with a number of other Chinese cultural traditions including the martial arts, poetry, calligraphy and tea appreciation. His biography states that he currently runs a tea import business in Canada and an English school in Henan, China.

His approach to his subject matter is straight forward and refreshingly modest. In a field that is typically dominated by “Masters” he claims only to be a lay student of Daoism (rather than a priest of any sort) whose teacher was also a lay disciple. His grand-teacher, however, was Cao Zhenyang, formerly a leader of the Dragon Gate sect of Quanzhen Daoism and abbot of the Beijing White Cloud Temple.

The book itself is best approached as an introduction to, and manual of, basic Daoist meditation techniques as they emerged during the Republic period. Like other reformers (and one suspects his teachers), Coons goes to some lengths to distance Daoist meditation from either contemporary occult practices or popular religion (which at times he seems to openly disparage). His work also attempts to more closely link meditative practices to the philosophical traditions of the Dao De Jing and the Zhuangzhi.

At 140 pages the volume is a quick read. I got through the book in an afternoon. Of course reading this book from cover to cover may not be the best approach. Anyone who wants to try the various recommended meditation exercises and integrate them into their daily routines would have a few weeks worth of material to work with.

The exercises themselves are clear and straight forward. No previous knowledge or cultural familiarity is presupposed by this project, and it seems to be intentionally written for true beginners. That said, if you have spent any time around the Chinese martial arts you will probably run into a fair amount that already sounds familiar. A number of black and white illustrations are provided including original photography, technical diagrams and classic works of art.

While this small volume is focused solely on practice and makes no claims to being in any way scholarly, Coons does manage to integrate a fair bit of history into his discussion. Anyone interested in a 10 minute overview of the current “consensus view” on the development of Daoism will want to check out the historical appendix. Readers will also notice asides to historical research throughout his text, though these never distract from the book’s more practical aims. One suspects that Coons’ sectarian loyalties color certain aspects of how he presents this discussion to the reader, but in a book explicitly devoted to promoting a certain approach to Daoist practice, that is probably to be expected.

Indeed, by the end of this volume readers will be left with very few doubts as to Coons’ motivations. His own preface is highly confessional and situates Daoist meditation as a valuable tool it treating practically all of the ills of the modern world, from work related stress and obesity to preventing cancer and other serious diseases. In fact, students of martial arts studies may want to take note of the “medicalization” of this preface, which in some ways is a bit at odds with the more philosophical tone of the rest of the book.

His final historical discussion places a teleological spin on the rise of his own (highly secularized and meditation focused) approach to Daoism while underplaying, or even disparaging, its other manifestations within Chinese society. Note the following remarks on pages 136 and 137:

“After the time of Huang Yuanji, Daoism again went into a lull, and by the end of the Qing dynasty in 1911 Daoism had descended into a confused amalgam of folk religions and superstitions mostly popular among the Chinese peasant classes in in rural areas such as Fujian, Shandong, Henan and so on.”….

“Daoism today exists both within the realm of religion and as something that normal people can study.”

Pumpkins. Wyoming County, October 2012. Photo Credit. Benjamin Judkins.

Daoist Practice in a Globalized and Secular West

Coons does a good job of presenting his own approach to Daoism in a succinct and clear way. Nor could one claim that such a philosophy is in any way illegitimate. This approach emerged out of reforms that were made during the Republic period and following the Cultural Revolution. Still, it is unlikely that this text would score many points with anthropologists or students of comparative religion.

Western martial artists may also need to approach this discussion with some caution. What Coons outlines may work as a devotional practice. Yet if one is primarily interested in understanding the meaning and the historical evolution of the traditional martial arts, reading this Republic-era philosophy back in time may lead to anachronism and misunderstanding. Religion and ritual have been a critically important organizing forces throughout Chinese history. One suspects that in most instances where we have seen convergence, ritual has been important to the martial arts precisely because it has provided a pathway to larger and more dynamic forms of social organization.

Anyone interested in the often complex nexus between martial culture, Daoist ritual, Ming era novels and patterns of militia organization should check out Demonic Warfare: Daoism, Territorial Networks, and the History of a Ming Novel (University of Hawaii Press, 2015) by Prof. Mark R. E. Meulenbeld. The sort of emphasis on modern philosophical Daoism presented by Coons would do little to prepare a reader for the rich and complicated world of martial values and religion laid out by Meulenbled.

I bring this up to emphasize the following point. Western students of the Chinese martial arts are often very interested in Daoism. Further, we tend to favor the more philosophical approaches to the discipline as outlined by Coons. Yet from a historian’s standpoint, it is dangerous to read these ideas onto the past. This is precisely what led to the sorts of anachronistic myth-making that authors such as Peter Lorge, Brian Kennedy and Stanley Henning have warned against.

Perhaps the more interesting question might be to ask why such approaches, formulated to appeal to both audiences and authorities in the Republic and then Maoist China, have such appeal for Western readers, spiritual seekers and martial artists today? This brings us back to those fundamental questions that emerged in the introduction to this essay. When we see similar ideas separated by geographic, cultural or chronological space, can we be sure that everyone is part of the same conversation?

One suspects that the answer is probably no. On the one hand it is clear that epistemic communities can form uniting groups of practitioners in China and the West. Yet this does not necessarily mean that every value is shared or that all cultural discourses are congruent.

What is often more interesting to me is the way that symbols mutate, cultural concepts are appropriated, and discourses hybridize. The practice of Daoist meditation in Taiwan during the 1960s likely represented a set of conservative values quite different from the meanings that it was assigned by hippies in the American counter culture. Much the same could be said of the Taijiquan of figures like Zheng Manqing or T. T. Liang.

I have often wondered what Zheng, a conservative figure, thought about suddenly finding himself at the center of a counter-culture movement in New York City during the 1970s? At times one wonders if such communities are actually built on a sort of reciprocal exploitation. Teachers receive the resources and prestige that they need to continue their projects (built on one set of values), while students are allowed to appropriate practices and concepts for their own, at times very different, projects. Perhaps this is what is meant by the traditional saying of “One Bed, Two Dreams.”

Coons’ book brings up many of these same questions. Both Daoism and Tajiquan have been associated with counter-culture values in North America since the 1960s. Still, the rise of Qigong in late 1990s, as well as its recent growth in popularity, tracks nicely with other more recent social trends.

Perhaps the most important of these has been the rise of the “nones” in the American religious landscape. Social scientists have noted that the number of people identifying with no specific religious tradition has dropped precipitously within society since the 1990s. Currently more than 23% of Americans do not identify with any religious denomination, an increase from about 8% at the start of the 1990s.

Most of these individuals are not atheists and many of them claim to still observe some sort of spiritual practices or values. What we are seeing here is more of a turn away from traditional organized religions rather than a rapidly spreading disbelief in spirituality. Nor are the reasons behind this trend agreed upon by all researchers. Some (like the Pew Forum) have pointed to increasing religious polarization within the political system, while others have looked at the rise of the internet, increased secularization, privatization, the decline of social networks and cultural fragmentation.

Obviously we will not resolve this important puzzle within this post, though I think that Coons’ book does point towards the importance of fragmentation. It is probably not a coincidence that the popularity of practices like Qingong and Daoist meditation are gaining adherents at this moment in history.  Nor is fragmentation (understood as the emergence of a rich pallet of cultural options where previously there was only one) always a bad thing.  At times it can allow for the emergence of powerful new discourses that would have been unthinkable in the past.

Consider again the contents of this book. Its techniques and practices are all designed to promote a “spiritualized” approach to self-actualization and embodied transcendence while at the same time avoiding any taint of sectarian religion or deistic belief. Further, a move away from religion and ritual towards the realm of meditation has the effect of stripping much of the specific cultural content out of Daoism (at least at the level that the author is offering it to his readers). No knowledge of the Chinese language, cultural practice or complicated religious rites is necessary. In fact, those things can even be seen as a hindrance to a “purer” (and more commercially viable) approach to Daoist meditation.

The religious reforms instigated in China after 1911 were not created to advance the export of certain forms of Daoist practice on the world markets today. Yet they seem to be doing exactly that. Globalization, it seems, works in mysterious ways.

This does not mean that individually held values across transnational communities will always be congruent. Again, one suspects that there is an element of mutual exploitation here.

Or maybe it would be better to call it “cooperation.” Rather than simply ensuring that the student becomes a carbon copy the teacher, the more exciting and mature approach is to supply them with the needed tools in the hopes that they will create new solutions for their own problems. Perhaps we might be the generation to craft new syncretic cultural discourses as powerful as those that emerged during the Ming dynasty. The fact that so many martial artists will be interested applying what they have learned in Coons’ manual bears powerful testimony to the fact that we are still living in the shadow of that great explosion of creative energy. Just imagine what another burst of such innovation might accomplish for the martial arts?

oOo

If you enjoyed this book review you might also want to read: The Chinese Gentle Art Complete: Reviewing the Bible of Ngo Cho Kun (Five Ancestors Boxing)

oOo

Taijiquan practitioners attempting to set a new record. Source: dailymail.co.uk

Introduction

Welcome to “Chinese Martial Arts in the News.”  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 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 a while since our last update so there is a lot to be covered in today’s post.  Let’s get to the news!

Japanese and Chinese martial arts students meeting in Fujian. Source: SCMP

News from All Over

Our first story comes from the (digital) pages of the South China Morning Post.  It recently carried a short article looking at Karate’s Chinese origins.  This discussion comes on the heels of Karate’s inclusion in the upcoming Tokyo Olympic games, while Wushu once again finds itself on the outside looking in.  However this particular piece focuses instead on the academic research of a Chinese scholar named  Lu Jiangwei (from Fujian) who recently completed a doctoral dissertation looking at the origins of “Karate culture” at the Okinawan Prefectural University of Arts.  This is an interesting project as it is clearly encouraging a fair bit of international cooperation among researchers.  At some point I will need to see if I can learn more about Lu’s research methods and findings.

A statue located in the Wong Fei Hung Temple in Foshan.

Perhaps the most famous master of the traditional Chinese martial arts to make the news this week was the noted Hung Gar practitioner Wong Fei Hung.  While he ended his life as a recluse, Wong is perhaps the best known Kung Fu personality of his generation because of the many newspaper stories, novels, radio programs and movies that have embroidered his legacy.  A short note in The Star reports that Wong’s real life disciples and students were unsuccessful in their recent attempts to locate his historic grave.  Apparently the cemetery that he was laid to rest in was demolished to make room for a new high rise development.  While only a short note, this story reinforces the inherent challenges involved in preserving and understanding the physical and architectural history of the Chinese martial arts in a constantly shifting landscape.

Speaking of change, ECNS ran a story on the efforts of mixed martial artists (and the promoters behind the ONE Championship) to establish a foothold in China’s lucrative media and entertainment markets. This is a story that we have covered here before, but what I found most interesting about this article was the language that it used.  It situated MMA as an outgrowth of the traditional Chinese martial arts, and thus their “return” home was something “natural” rather than foreign.  Still, it ended the following note: “As the ancestry of modern mixed martial arts, Chinese kung fu enjoys popularity around the world and now it’s time for the time-honored martial art form to evolve by communicating with the world.”

Photo by Hotli Simanjuntak/EPA. Source: fightland.vice.com

This is not the first time that an MMA promoter has tried to break open the Chinese market and it probably won’t be the last.  One of the challenges inherent in getting a foothold is all of the other combat sports that are already popular with Chinese audiences, athletes, media outlets and bureaucrats.  By far the most important (and economically lucrative) of these is Sanda.  Sascha Matuszak recently wrote a quick introduction to the topic over at Vice’s Fightland blog.  It lays out the facts on the ground quite nicely.  And while you are there check out his other post on the place of the wooden dummy in modern (post-Ip Man) Chinese martial arts training.

The recent attempt to set a record for the largest taijiquan demonstration, Photo: China News Service / CFP

Where is the calmest place on Earth?  According to this photo-essay in the Daily Mail it would have to be in the middle of a massive recently staged (October 18th) Taijiquan demonstration held in Jiaozuo City of Henan province.  Some of the photos generated by this event are as breathtaking as one might suppose.  But another article in the GB Times does a better job of explaining the purpose of the event.  In addition to attempting to set a world record for the largest simultaneous taijiquan practice session, the event organizers were hoping to raise awareness for their bid to have the Chinese martial arts declared an element of “intangible cultural heritage” by UNESCO.

According to a recent study conducted by Yi-Wen Chen, from the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, there may be a number of other reasons for these individuals to continue with their Tajiquan practice.  After conducting a review of 33 separate studies (containing about 1,500 research subjects in total) her team found that the regular practice of Taiji can be beneficial for people suffering from a wide range of chronic illnesses ranging from arthritis to cancer.   Reuters ran a story (which was distributed by a large number of other outlets) detailing their specific research findings.

Female student studying Wushu in a scene from Inigo Westmeier’s Dragon Girls.

National Geographic introduced readers of its blog to approximately “36,000 kids you don’t want to mess with.”  The children in question are students of the Shaolin Tagou Kung Fu academy, one of the largest residential wushu schools in China.  The occasion for the discussion was an interview with filmmaker Inigo Westmeier who directed the documentary “Dragon Girls.”  Recently she collaborated with DB Ben Surkin to turn some of that footage into a music video for Gener8ion featuring M.I.A.  The video is great, so if you have not seen it yet be sure to click on the link at the top of the post.  The rest of the article is dedicated to a discussion with Westmeier about the production of the documentary, its reception in China and her other projects.

Bruce Lee with his favorite onscreen weapon.

While best known by practicing martial artists as a weapon associated with traditional Karate, the nunchuck exploded into popular consciousness in the west after the 1973 release of Enter the Dragon.  More recently a number of law enforcement personal are taking a second look at this simple weapon.  This is not the first time that police officers have trained with nunchucks.  It seems that their versatility (they can be used to restrain as well as to strike), and their shorter length are winning converts.

While on the subject of nunchucks, the Seattle Times recently ran a piece on the opening of the second installment of the new Bruce Lee exhibit at the Wing Luke museum.  The piece includes discussion of Lee’s life in the city as well as some more personal photographs included in the collection.  Head on over and check it out.

Into the Badlands by AMC.

Chinese Martial Arts in the Entertainment Industry

AMC’s new series “Into the Badlands” (set to debut on Nov. 15) is continuing to pick up a lot of good press.  In keeping with what we have already seen much of this focuses on the series’ martial arts content.  Evidently the studio believes that this will separate the project both from their other products and competing programs on TV.  The New York Daily News ran a longer than expected piece on the upcoming series which you can take a look at here.  I thought that it was interesting to note that in the post-apocalyptic future imagined by the show there are no longer any firearms.  Obviously that decision gives the directors more freedom to showcase their martial arts assets, and its a common story telling trope in classic Chinese martial arts films (many of which are set in an imaginary past).  Still, its not a storytelling device I am very fond of as it ignores the fundamental fact that the Chinese martial arts, as they exist today, are very much the product of a world in which firearms were present.

Qi Shu plays the title role, a young girl who is kidnapped by a nun and trained to become a killer. Source: New York Times.

When it comes to news stories about the Chinese martial arts, director Hou Hsiao-hsien’s recent film The Assassin is breaking the internet.  Up to one third of all of the stories that I ran across in the last week were about this film.  Readers may recall that the early discussions of this period drama, set in the Tang dynasty, were very positive.  Reviewers loved Hou’s visual aesthetic and he won an award at Cannes for his work.  Now that the film has actually hit theaters a muck larger batch of reviews are commenting, and unfortunately the results appear to be mixed.  While a few reviewers love the film, others are claiming that its falls flat.  Most seem to be somewhere in the middle, capable of appreciating the film’s beauty while claiming that it has some notable shortcoming.  This review at the Globe and Mail seems to be typical of the current discussion.  Everyone seems to agree that what Hou created pushes the boundaries of what you can do with a “normal” martial arts film, but there is less consensus as to whether that was ultimately a good thing.

Of course there is always a lot of classic Kung Fu cinema out there just waiting to be rediscovered by audiences.  Consider for instance the 1978 Shaw Brothers film “Heroes of the East” starring  Gordon Liu, Yuka Mizuno, Kurata Yasuaki and directed by Liu Chia Liang.  It would be an understatement to say that the film as has interesting political subtext, and given current events, it once again seems timely.  Check out this post over at Vice Sports which discusses the film as well as its historic and current geopolitical context.

Source: http://martialartsstudies.blogspot.com

Martial Arts Studies

There have been a number if important developments in the area of Martial Arts Studies.  First off, the publisher Rowman & Littlefield (who helped to sponsor our recent conference at the University of Cardiff) have announced the creation of a new book series dedicated to producing titles within the field of Martial Arts Studies.  Paul Bowman will be the series editor. In the interest of full disclosure I should state that I am also a member of the project’s editorial board.  Obviously this is an important step in developing Martial Arts Studies as it ensures a dedicated outlet for new monographs and will help to build visibility among readers.  To find out more about the book series click here.

Paul recently presented a paper titled “Making Martial Arts Studies: A Tale of Two Books.”  Follow the link to read a copy of the paper or to watch video of his presentation.  Also, researchers interested in publishing in the interdisciplinary journal Martial Arts Studies should check our recent Call for Papers regarding an upcoming special issue titled “The Invention of Martial Arts.”

Vintage French Postcard

Wendy Rouse, who teaches in the Department of Sociology and Interdisciplinary Studies at San Jose State University, recently uploaded a paper to Academia.edu titled “Jiu-Jitsuing Uncle Sam: The Unmanly Art of Jiu-Jitsu and the Yellow Peril Threat in the Progressive Era United States” (Pacific Historical Review, Vol. 84 No. 4.)  This looks like it will be an important article for anyone interested in the early history of the Asian martial arts in the West or those working on questions of masculinity, national identity and racial politics.  The abstract is as follows:

The emergence of Japan as a major world power in the early twentieth century generated anxiety over America’s place in the world. Fears of race suicide combined with a fear of the  feminizing effects of over-civilization further exacerbated these tensions. Japanese jiu-jitsu came to symbolize these debates. As a physical example of the yellow peril, Japanese martial arts posed a threat to western martial arts of boxing and wrestling. The efficiency and effectiveness of Japanese jiu-jitsu, as introduced to Americans in the early twentieth century, challenged preconceived notions of the superiority of western martial arts and therefore American constructions of race and masculinity. As Theodore Roosevelt and the U.S. nation wrestled with the Japanese and jiu-jitsu, they responded in various ways to this new menace. The jiu-jitsu threat was ultimately subjugated by simultaneously exo- ticizing, feminizing, and appropriating aspects of it in order to reassert the dominance of  western martial arts, the white race and American masculinity.

The Fighting Art of Pencak Silat and its Music (Brill 2015) by Uwe U. Paetzold and Paul H. Mason

Brill has recently released a new volume titled The Fighting Art of Pencak Silat and its Music: From Southeast Asian Village to Global Movement edited by Uwe U. Paetzold of the Robert Schumann University of Music, Düsseldorf and Paul H. Mason from the University of Sydney.  Silat has generated a fairly good sized collection of academic studies in the past and that number seems to have accelerated in recent years.  This study appears to be unique in the degree to which it has been shaped by ethnomusicology in addition to other more typical fields including sociology and anthropology.  The publisher’s note is as follows:

Fighting arts have their own beauty, internal philosophy, and are connected to cultural worlds in meaningful and important ways. Combining approaches from ethnomusicology, ethnochoreology, performance theory and anthropology, the distinguishing feature of this book is that it highlights the centrality of the pluripotent art form of pencak silat among Southeast Asian arts and its importance to a network of traditional and modern performing arts in Southeast Asia and beyond.

By doing so, important layers of local concepts on performing arts, ethics, society, spirituality, and personal life conduct are de-mystified. With a distinct change in the way we view Southeast Asia, this book provides a wealth of information about a complex of performing arts related to
the so-called ‘world of silat‘.

Unfortunately you will probably need to head to your local university library to find a copy of this book.  At $175 a copy I doubt that it will end up on my shelf in the near future.  Fortunately Gisa Jähnichen has uploaded a copy of her chapter titled “Gendang Silat: Observations from Stong (Kelantan) and Kuala Penyu (Sabah).”  This will be especially interesting for students with a background in music or an interest in performance.

Redemption: A Street Fighter’s Path to Peace by Michael Clarke

Michael Clarke, a long time karate practitioner and Kyoshi eighth dan, will be releasing an autobiographical work titled Redemption: A Street Fighter’s Path to Peace (Ymaa Publication).  While not a scholarly work students of Martial Arts Studies may find this interesting more as a “primary text” due to its extensive discussion of the modern history of Karate and social observations on violence and martial arts.  It is due out in March of 2016.

Lastly, be sure to check out the first part of my recent interview at Kung Fu Tai Chi magazine where Jon Nielson and I sit down with Gene Ching to discuss our book on the social history of the southern martial arts, Wing Chun and the importance of recent development in martial arts studies.  Expect the second half of this detailed interview to posted sometime next week.

Chinese tea set. Source: Wikimedia.

Kung Fu Tea on Facebook

As always there is a lot going on at the Kung Fu Tea Facebook group and this last month has been no exception.  We discussed modern Daoist meditation practices, the life of Ma Liang (both a warlord and martial arts reformer) and watched some new interviews with Adam Hsu.   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.

Volkerkunde by F.Ratzel.Printed in Germany,1890. This 19th century illustration shows a number of interesting Japanese and Chinese arms including hudiedao.

Three Critical Questions

The inaugural issue of Martial Arts Studies, a new interdisciplinary peer reviewed journal edited by Paul Bowman and myself, will be released very shortly.  In fact, I have it on good authority that it will go live on Monday morning.

Whether you are interested in history, anthropology, cultural studies or martial arts cinema, you are sure to find something within this first issue.  It features a number of articles, both empirical and theoretical in nature, by some very talented scholars who have generously agreed to share their research with us.  It also has a substantial review article as well as a number of discussions of recently released books that may be of interest to students of martial arts studies.  The journal’s homepage is even getting a slick new update as we speak.

Many exciting things are currently developing within the field of martial arts studies and it is our hope that this journal will provide a forum in which students can discover the very best research that is being produced.  Working in partnership with Cardiff University Press, Martial Arts Studies is being distributed as a true “open access” journal.  Any individual with an internet connection will be free to read, download, share or print articles free of charge.  Nor will we ever charge authors a fee for publishing their work with us.

I know that for myself it will be a long wait until Monday morning.  So what better way to pass the time than by doing a little reading in preparation for the upcoming release.  After all, what we have read in the past enhances our understanding of works that we will encounter in the future.

Or maybe you find yourself asking one of the following questions.  What on earth do the martial arts (which strive to be practical) have to do with academic research in the first place?  If I am not a professional scholar, how can I recognize good research on the martial arts?  What sorts of things should I be looking for?  Or alternatively, if you are already an academic researcher, what sort of contribution could a better understanding of these fighting systems actually make to theoretically substantively discussions?  Sure they are interesting, but so what?

Giving some thought to each of these questions will be a great way to pass the hours until Monday morning.  It may also help to ease yourself into some of the coming discussions that you may encounter.  So here are three recommended essays, each of which attempts to address one of the previous questions.  Find the one that is right for you, or just read all three!

A) How can I recognize good scholarship within the field of martial arts studies even if I am not a researcher myself?

-Check out: Writing (and Reading) Better Martial Arts History in Four Easy Steps  or, for an example of a nice historical argument, see: Invulnerability in the Chinese Martial Arts: Meir Shahar on the Origins of the “Iron-Cloth Shirt” and “Golden-Bell Armor”

B) What do the martial arts have to do with academics?  And more importantly, what could universities actually do for the traditional martial arts?

-For a comprehensive answer to that question (and a fantastic review of the current state of the literature) see: Will Universities Save the Traditional Asian Martial Arts?

C) Sure it all sounds interesting, but so what?

-This is how I think about that problem: Martial Arts Studies: Answering the “So what?” question

Good luck with the homework.  And check back here Monday morning to find your first issue of Martial Arts Studies.

Paul Bowman and I are happy to announce that the first issue of the new interdisciplinary journal Martial Arts Studies has arrived. It is free to download, read or share by anyone with an internet connection. Best of all, the journal has sharp new look to compliment its cutting edge content.

Readers of this this issue can expect to see a variety of papers, original research, review articles and book reviews contributed by both young scholars and some of the most respected names in the field.

Our goal for the first issue was to explore what “martial arts studies,” as an academic research area, really is. What does its study entail? What methods or approaches might its students employ? What sorts of questions does it touch on?

Obviously we have only just begun to think about these issues, and I am sure that over the course of the coming weeks and months we will have ample opportunities to explore the arguments of the authors in much greater detail. Still, even at this early stage one thing is clear. Martial arts studies is a field with immense promise. We currently find ourselves standing at the most exciting point of any great adventure, the beginning!

Paul and I both hope that you find much of interest in the pages of this issue, and we encourage you to share it with friends and colleagues. It has been a privilege to be able to work on this project. None of this would have been possible without the generous contributions of our authors, reviewers, editorial advisory panel and most especially the tireless efforts of both our Assistant Editor Kyle Barrowman and the journal’s designer, Hugh Griffiths. To everyone who contributed to this issue we offer our most profound gratitude and thanks.
Click here to read the Autumn 2015 Issue of Martial Arts Studies.

Traditional style Hudiedao. Source: traditionalfilipinoweapons.com

Introduction

Earlier in the summer my co-author, Jon Nielson, and I had the pleasure of discussing our recent book and the current state of martial arts studies with Gene Ching.  As many of you already know, Gene is the Editor of Kung Fu Tai Chi magazine, one of our favorite publications.  He has also been very proactive in bringing some of the more important authors in Chinese martial studies (scholars like Meir Shahar and Peter Lorge) to the attention of his readership.  Yesterday I got a follow-up email letting me know that the second part of our interview had gone live on the Kung Fu Tai Chi webpage.  You can see the original here.

We had the chance to do a couple of interviews following the release of our book, but this was by far the most detailed and thoughtful.  We greatly appreciated the fact that Gene engaged directly with the substance of what we were seeking to accomplish.  The questions in this section covered a variety of topics, but there was a bit more emphasis on martial arts studies as an academic area.

The entire interview ended up being long enough that they decided to split it into two parts.  If you have not yet done so you may want to start by reading the first section of the discussion here.  I have re-blogged the final section of the discussion below.  Also be sure to watch for an upcoming interview with Paul Bowman in the same space.  Gene said that he thought it might be up in a week or so.  Enjoy!

1860s photograph of a “Chinese Soldier” with butterfly swords. Subject unknown, taken by G. Harrison Grey.

Interview

GC: What do you think of all the attention Grandmaster Ip Man has garnered in Chinese film lately? There’sDonnie Yen’s trilogy, Herman Yau’s films, and, of course, The Grandmaster. How might these fictional retellings affect the subject of your book and Wing Chun on the whole?

BJ: On one level it’s a great thing. As the teacher of Bruce Lee, Ip Man has long had a certain level of name recognition among the practitioners of Chinese martial arts in the West. The way that his life’s story has intersected with what was going on in the southern Chinese martial arts is absolutely fascinating. We hope that these films inspire a number of people to dig a little deeper in an effort to come to terms with what he accomplished and the nature of the environment that he lived in.

This project has been something of a labor of love and was years in the making. We started it prior to the release of the first movie. In terms of building an audience, these films have been great! No one could ask for better advertising. And I suspect that most viewers of the films realize that they are watching very fictionalized accounts of Ip Man’s life, so they probably won’t be too disturbed when some of the events in his actual biography turn out differently.

The more interesting questions revolve around how this burst of media attention will affect the practice of Wing Chun itself. Obviously anything that attracts new students will be welcomed by many individuals interested in the health of the art. But by and large these films all attempt to make Ip Man’s Wing Chun conform to a preexisting vision of what the southern Chinese martial arts are supposed to be, and how they relate to larger questions of national and regional identity. One of the things that is interesting about Ip Man was the degree to which he was willing to sidestep some of these expectations in his own day to focus on his unique visions of what Wing Chun should become as a modern system of hand combat. So it will be interesting to see whether this new media discourse pushes his system in the direction of becoming a more self-conscious cultural project.

GC: Family feuds are fairly common within the world of Chinese martial arts. Wing Chun, in particular, has suffered from many such squabbles. What did you do to maintain an objective perspective on Grandmaster Ip Man’s coverage in your book?

BJ: From the very beginning of our research we decided that we wanted to tell the story of Wing Chun, and the southern martial arts, as a “social history.” What that did was to shift our focus away from a “great man” view of history towards one that focused on the social, political and economic environment in which these events took place. That allowed us to focus on the martial arts as social institutions and organizations rather than as reified lineages or cults of personality. It also brought the students of these systems (rather than simply their creators) into the picture. Who studied these arts? What motivated them? How did all of this change over time?

This sort of approach helps to deemphasize some of the sorts of disputes that have plagued the TCMA community. Suddenly who did it “first,” or who did it “best,” is not nearly as important a question as why they did it in the first place, and what it all meant to their communities. So the more academic focus of this work naturally led the discussion in a different direction. And addressing some of these more controversial points is a lot easier if you have first developed a really rich understanding of the environment that all of this was supposed to have happened within.

GC: Have you seen the Wing Chun duan ranking system that China is trying to establish and, if so, what do you think about it?

JN: I guess they are trying to bring order to a disordered community, so I have to respect that, but I hope it doesn’t catch on. Wing Chun is a self-defense system, not a combat sport. Ranking systems are useful to sports combat because you want to match people of equal skill when they compete, but such a system doesn’t really carry over to self-defense.

BJ: It is not anything that I have personal experience with. I suppose anything that helps to make Wing Chun available to a larger audience on the mainland cannot be completely bad. And this is only one part of a much larger effort to promote and harness martial culture that has been going on in one form or another since the 1930s.

Still, there do seem to be certain historical ironies in all of this that are difficult to ignore. While this may create a pathway for certain sorts of state legitimation or support, Wing Chun has always been deeply connected to southern China’s local and regional culture. And I suspect that these ties will continue to strengthen in the foreseeable future, especially in Hong Kong. I think that it is still an open question as to whether these national level efforts will have any sustained impact on the development and actual practice of Wing Chun.

Personally I would be more interested in seeing whether the Hong Kong government might be convinced to do more to support or legitimize the practice of Wing Chun and other local forms of Kung Fu. That seems like a pretty natural fit and there have been some recent moves to include these combat systems in lists of important cultural practices. But so far they preferred to take a slightly more laissez faire approach to the question of actual support or preservation.

GC: When you hear MMA spokespeople like Joe Rogan put down Wing Chun, what do you think?

JN: We haven’t really heard Joe Rogan or any other official spokesman say anything directed specifically at Wing Chun. Instead we observe people who listen to these spokespeople and hear what they want to hear. As with any movement that people identify strongly with, there will always be people who will use general statements to build up arguments against those systems they feel most threatened by. In that way, we see these misdirected criticisms as a testament to Wing Chun’s strong position in the martial arts community.

GC: Do you feel that the Chinese martial arts are growing or fading now? What about with Wing Chun specifically?

BJ: That is a question that you could write a book on. Certainly it is something that a lot of people are wondering about. I can tell you that multiple readers a day come to Kung Fu Tea after doing an internet search on that specific question.

In general the death of the traditional Chinese martial arts has been greatly exaggerated. Certainly things are slower now than they were in the 1980s and 1990s, both in China and the West. Yet what is often forgotten is that those were in many ways pretty exceptional decades in the history of the Chinese martial arts. For a variety of reasons there was an explosion of interest in these systems which for most of the 19th and 20th centuries had actually been viewed as pretty socially marginal. So the most recent historical era might not actually be a great baseline for meaningful comparison.

A lot of the decline in martial arts practice in China today is directly tied to the recent period of rapid economic growth and the expanded opportunities for both employment and recreation that comes with it. In the short run that has not been great news for a number of systems. But in the long run having a healthy middle class with disposable income to spare will probably be great for at least some of these same systems. It is really a question of how well they can adapt to changing cultural and economic circumstances. Note that some arts, like Taekwondo and BJJ, have been expanding at exactly the same time that other traditional Chinese systems are shrinking.

The idea of the “traditional” martial arts changing tends to make a lot of people nervous. But the truth is that these systems are always adapting themselves to their environments. They have changed, often in important ways, in every generation. The real question is how well they are doing it. When people ask me whether the traditional Chinese martial arts are dying, I tell them no, they are evolving.

Wing Chun seems to be doing fairly well at the moment. Unsurprisingly there was a groundswell of interest following the release of Wilson Yip’s film. Nor has the Sherlock Holmes franchise (with Robert Downey Jr.) been bad for enrollments. And I think that the ongoing interest in Bruce Lee suggests a certain degree of sustained public curiosity about the art. At the moment Wing Chun is either holding steady or growing, depending on the area under discussion.

JN: I feel interest in the martial arts comes in waves. Sometimes it surges and sometimes it wanes, but there is always water in the ocean. Right now, a lot of attention is being focused on sport combat. Some see this as detracting from other martial systems, but most people who are really interested in self-defense understand that sport combat is a great form of exercise and entertainment, but won’t replace a serious study of self-defense.

GC: In Paul Bowman’s 2015 book, MARTIAL ARTS STUDIES, he ponders the possibility of martial arts studies as an academic field. What do you think of this notion? Do you foresee doctoral programs in martial arts in major U.S. universities?

BJ: It is becoming increasingly apparent that martial arts studies, as an academic project, is here to stay. Scholars from a number of fields have decided that an examination of these fighting systems can help them to advance fundamental discussions on topics as diverse as identity formation, social conflict, imperialism, nationalism and gender performance. We are seeing anthropologists, historians, cultural studies scholar and a variety of social scientists all doing good work in this area. University Presses are increasingly receptive to these projects, and Paul and I are in the process of launching an academic, peer reviewed, journal meant to encourage the publication of more article length treatments of these subjects.

I think that right now the real question is what sort of project martial arts studies will become. There are a couple of possibilities. First, it might develop into an interdisciplinary research area, a space where scholars trained in the traditional fields come to investigate a set of questions that provide them with a new perspective on established debates. As Bowman has pointed out, development along these lines also has the potential to begin to call into question some of the more artificial boundaries that have traditionally separated the academic disciplines. That is something that he is generally in favor of.

At the June 2015 conference on Martial Arts Studies held at the University of Cardiff, the very distinguished professor (and highly accomplished martial artist) Stephan Chan took issue with this view. In his keynote address he argued that in fact martial arts studies is likely to become a discipline of its own, with a distinct set of conceptual tools and theoretical concerns. He saw its development as being guided by linguistic, geographic, historical and social scientific concerns. One suspects that this vision of martial arts studies would likely find a ready home in Asian Studies departments, but it might have less of an impact on the traditional disciplines.

At this point it is really difficult to predict the details of how things will develop. Either pathway could work, though I suspect that we are more likely to see martial arts studies develop as an interdisciplinary research area first. Creating the basic institutions needed to support named chairs and degree programs in the American university system will take a lot of work and fundraising. But I can tell you that there are already a number of individuals who specialize in the academic study of the martial arts who are graduating with doctorates in anthropology, history and cultural studies. That is certainly one of the big forces pushing martial arts studies forward at this moment in time. There is a lot of hunger among these scholars for a deeper, more sustained and meaningful conversation.

GC: What else might you be working on in the future concerning Chinese martial arts?

BJ: I think it would be fair to say that we have a number of irons in the fire. Paul Bowman and I are looking forward to the launch of our new interdisciplinary journal, Martial Arts Studies, in October. The first issue is currently slated to include a review of our book by Prof. Douglas Wile and we are looking forward to hearing what he thought of it.

We also wrote a fair amount of material that did not fit with our final vision for this book. I think that we will be taking another look at some of this, as well as writing a few new chapters, to develop a different sort of discussion of Wing Chun’s origins and significance aimed more at a popular audience.

Three unidentified children practice Kung Fu near the Shaolin Temple. This press photo was taken in 1982 and it captures the first moments of the “Golden Age” of Kung Fu in mainland China.  Source: Author’s personal collection.

Introduction

Two weeks ago I moved to Ithaca NY and things have been a bit hectic. I have not been able to get as much reading and writing done as I would like. Yet there has been no corresponding decrease in the appearance of new ideas that I want to explore in blog posts. Now that I finally have a working office set up perhaps I can begin to work my way through this growing backlog.

One of the big topics to emerge in the news recently was the impending end of China’s “One Child Policy.” For readers who may be unfamiliar with the topic, this was an audacious experiment in social engineering conceived of by the Chinese government following the Cultural Revolution (1978) as a way of limiting the country’s burgeoning population growth. It was hoped that this would then result in a socially and economically optimal demographic balance that would lead to prosperity.

The following post has two slightly different, but ultimately related, goals. First I would like to think a little bit about the effects of this policy on the traditional martial arts in the PRC, as well as what its transformation into a “Two Child Policy” might portend for the future. Nor is this discussion as far-fetched as it might appear. Government officials, writers and social scientists have been aware of the link between demographics trends and patterns of social conflict in China (many of which have helped to promote the martial arts) since at least the 19th century. Often these discussions have focused on the issue of “bare sticks,” young men who for economic or social reasons cannot marry and have traditionally fed China’s many martial arts traditions.

Secondly, what does all of this suggest about the nature and possible uses of Martial Arts Studies as an academic research area. Scholars are quickly building an impressive database of information on the historical development of these fighting systems as well as better models of how they interact with society. But what is the ultimate point of this? How can we as researchers actually apply this knowledge? What is it good for?

Before delving into these twin discussions we might wish to begin with a quick overview of the One Child Policy. This set of directives is actually more complicated than its totalizing title might lead one to believe. The policy evolved over time, and its application has never been uniform. While much has been written on the subject, demographer and economists have never come to total agreement on its actual effectiveness or impact on Chinese society. A few of these debates may even be relevant to our discussion of how it may have interacted with the fate of the martial arts in the PRC.

A group in the same general area today.

A Quick Overview

Originally intended as a measure that would last only a single generation, the “One Child Policy” saw a number of important revisions over the course of its lifespan. Since enforcement of the policy was largely carried out at the provincial level there was a fair degree of variability in how it was enforced throughout the country. Still, estimates by demographers suggest that anywhere from 200 to 400 million births were prevented by this policy which is now slated to be substantially modified (basically into a “two child policy”) within the coming months.

In practice the subset of couples that were strictly restricted to a single birth in recent years was actually smaller than one might expect. Again, estimates vary, but it seems likely that only 35% of couples in the past decade were strictly restricted to a single birth. Exceptions to the policy were numerous. Individuals living in rural farming villages and ethnic minorities could apply for additional birth permits. And after 2013 all couples could apply to have a second child if either one was a single-child themselves.

Discussions of the One Child Policy are always complicated by a number of factors. Obviously it has been a politicized topic in the West where the enforcement of this directive has been tied to accusations of human rights abuses. And demographers have struggled to come to terms with the effects of what has been, in many ways, an unprecedented social experiment.

It is certainly true that China’s population growth curve bent down sharply after enforcement of this policy was instituted. Its advocates have noted that it seems to have cut the countries potential population by several hundred million (again, exact estimates differ). Yet critics of these policies note that China’s overall birth rate fell at exactly the same time that its economy entered its rapid growth phase, a large percentage of the population relocated from primarily agricultural to urban areas, and opportunities for female education and employment improved.

We know from studying population dynamics in other countries that these same variables are more than capable of explaining dramatic dips in population growth rates. For instance, the shift in China’s growth curve closely matches those also seen in the case of Vietnam. Yet its smaller southern neighbor never adopted a single child policy, and instead relied on public education and market forces. Likewise Hong Kong never considered anything akin to the PRC’s enforced social engineering strategy. Yet it currently has one of the lowest birthrates in the world.

When thinking about the effects of the One Child Policy we are first forced to ask ourselves whether it really had much of a substantive impact on Chinese society at all. Reporters working this story recently found that most of the individuals in urban areas who they interviewed (those most likely to be restricted to a single child under the old system) have said that, policy changes notwithstanding, they have no plans to seek a second birth. The costs of housing, raising and educating a second child in the current economic environment are just too onerous.

Indeed, it is hard to underestimate the importance of household economic calculations in explaining demographic trends. I doubt that even the most ardent economist would claim that people are actually mathematically rational in their decision making. Yet hard budget constraints are impossible to ignore. And the population declines that we have seen in recent decades in states like Vietnam and Russia indicate that economic factors may be more than capable of explaining most of the variance that we see in the Chinese case as well. Without the One Child Policy it is likely that China’s total population, while possibly a bit higher, would not be radically different from what we see today.

Yet even if the total population numbers did not change, it is still possible that this policy has had other consequences which need to be taken into account. Demographers have noted that how this policy was drafted, and the ways in which it interacted with traditional Chinese culture, reinforced a strong preference for male children. Sex selective abortions have resulted in a massive demographic skew. And as we have seen in previous posts, large numbers of unmarried males (or “bare sticks” in the Chinese vernacular) have not always been a force for social stability in China’s past. In fact, martial arts societies recruited quite successfully out of this demographic pool in the 19th and earlier 20th centuries.

The rapid decline in birth rate has also skewed the age distribution of China’s population, and these effects will continue to grow stronger over the coming decades. On the macro level there are simply fewer active workers to support the growing number of retired senior citizens who are living longer and healthier lives.

Within individual families these trends can be felt even more starkly. With a weak social safety net individuals continue to rely both on their personal savings and their children for financial support in their old age. Yet the rigid enforcement of the One Child Policy in some demographics has led to the “4-2-1 Problem,” where a single working child may be called on to support up to six elderly adults (two parents, and four grandparents).

The burdens placed on single children in this situation are stark and immediately evident. Yet if we return to the macro level it becomes apparent that this rapid decline in the size of the overall workforce could pose a serious problem for China’s economic prospects in the coming decades. It seems that these very real economic and social fears were largely responsible for the political decision to walk back the One Child Policy.

Nor do these issues exhaust the list of social ills that are often attributed to the One Child Policy. Some writers have referred to those living in China now as “the loneliest generation” as vast numbers of singletons grew up without the benefit of brothers, sisters, cousins or even many neighbors of their same age with which to share their childhood. Adults have attempted to compensate for this by lavishing attention and spending on the few children in their extended families leading to what some have termed the “Little Emperor” problem of spoiled and generally fragile children who then go on to struggle in an educational and social system that demands a high degree of discipline.

On the other hand these same supposedly “spoiled” children are often overwhelmed with the social responsibilities that they personally bear to multiple generations of their own families. Even if China’s total population might be roughly the same without the advent of the One Child Policy, this experiment still seems to have had an important effect on the contours of Chinese society.

Shaolin Masterclass. Photo by Jack Latham. Source: FT.com

Demographic Change and the Martial Arts

This brings us back to the martial arts. What impact did the One Child Policy have on the development of both official and folk Wushu after the close of the Cultural Revolution? What changes in the development of the martial arts might we expect to see in the wake of its departure? And what does all of this imply for the field of martial arts studies?

In a recent paper my colleague, Dr. Paul Bowman, asked what is the point of martial arts studies? Once we have accumulated this knowledge about the ways in which martial arts systems develop and interact with society, what do we do with it? What possible solutions to this more theoretical question might a quick consideration of the One Child Policy suggest?

Historical work on the traditional martial arts has demonstrated that these practices were not distributed evenly across Chinese society. Up through the early 20th century there was a distinct social stigma that accompanied the practice of these systems. Their spread was often associated with practical concerns such as village defense or making a living either as a guard, opera performer or bandit. As such the traditional hand combat arts were more commonly encountered in some areas of the country than others. Further, in my own research on the martial clans of Guangdong province I noticed that they tended to be practiced by second and third, rather than first, sons within a family.

Obviously there are a number of exceptions to this last point, particularly in cases where the martial arts were essential to the family business (guards, soldiers, pharmacists, bandits). Yet among those who might be said to have adopted these systems by choice, there does seem to be a bias towards second sons. For instance, it was Ip Man, and not his older and better established brother, who would go on to become a master of Wing Chun kung fu after Chan Wah Shun took up teaching in the Ip clan temple. Why might this be?

The answer seems to come down to questions of responsibility and the duties of filial piety. First sons were more senior, and in the case of the family businesses might well be expected to continue on in the enterprise. Often the family would invest substantial resources in their education in the hopes that they might win office through the civil service system and thus increase the prestige and fortunes of the clan.

In economic terms we might argue that it was more expensive for first sons (excluding those in certain specific industries and situations) to study the martial arts. They were often afforded other opportunities that were too valuable to lightly discard. And they also felt the greatest weight of social expectation to succeed. In short, the “opportunity cost” of the martial arts was simply too great to make if affordable in a good many cases.

The situation was slightly different for younger sons. While they would still expect to inherit something of the family estate, they do not seem to have born the same weight of parental expectations. Further, I have often suspected that a number of families decided that once the clan fortune was secure, having a couple of “security specialists” on hand to make sure that everything ran smoothly might be a great investment. Thus it could be rational for second sons to invest themselves in a martial education even though their older brothers were being encouraged in a more “civil” direction.

Nor can we forget the “bare sticks,” younger males from poor families that did not expect to inherit anything. Economic considerations combined with the problem of the “missing girls” meant that their marriage prospects were limited. These young men also tended to be more loosely tethered to their home communities and clans. Such individuals were often viewed as somewhat expendable and were the most likely to be caught up in clan warfare, smuggling, petty criminal groups and even martial arts societies. This last pursuit may have provided them with an alternate means of constructing a masculine identity within a predominately Confucian society.

As we can see, the distribution of the martial arts knowledge throughout Chinese society tended to be correlated with certain demographic and economic variables during the late imperial period. And the One Child Policy was consciously designed to reengineer those exact aspects of society. So how might it have affected the subsequent development of the Chinese martial arts on the mainland?

Ultimately these sorts of counterfactual questions are impossible to answer with precision, especially when we are looking at a vastly complicated social experiment with a sample size of one. Still, it may be possible to discern a few key patterns worthy of further consideration.

To begin with, we should recall that in urban areas any couple lucky enough to have a son on their first attempt was not likely to be allowed to have another child (unless they were a member of a minority group). Thus in these areas a very large percentage of all males would now find themselves in a situation where they alone bore the weight of their parents’ and grandparents’ expectations. This would seem to increase the social costs of martial arts training and make it likely that fewer parents would actively seek out these opportunities for their children.

Of course martial arts training did not vanish after the end of the Cultural Revolution. It actually went through a boom in the 1980s. Yet by in large the individuals who took up training early in this decade were still the product of a previous generation. As time went on fewer children enrolled in both official Wushu programs and folk martial arts classes. This trend became especially pronounced towards the end of the 1990s and beyond as China’s economy picked up steam and parents became increasingly anxious about forgoing the possibility of a lucrative career for their children.

In short, there is circumstantial evidence that economic considerations, made more acute by the One Child Policy, have probably inhibited the total number of martial arts students. It has likely also skewed which sorts of children will take up the martial arts and the sorts of practices that they will be introduced to.

Readers might recall that individuals living in more rural areas were generally allowed to have a greater number of children. One suspects that this was probably a good thing for the development of the martial arts in China as these practices have always been more popular in rural areas. Further, journalists and researchers who have interviewed individuals studying at China’s many fulltime Wushu based schools have noted that the students in these vocational programs tend to come disproportionately from poor rural backgrounds.

From the 1920s-1950s martial arts reformers on the mainland succeeded in an effort to re-brand their fighting systems as tools of public health, physical education and nationalism that were fit for urban middle class students. Such individuals were expected to already have full time occupations and thus approached the martial arts mostly as a recreational activity. The Jingwu and later Guoshu movements are the best known examples of this trend, but many schools and groups were working along similar lines.

Obviously the advent of the government’s new Wushu system in the 1950s (subsequently expanded after the end of the Cultural Revolution) meant that none of these Republic era approaches would be coming back. And while there was a sudden outpouring of interest in folk masters teaching in urban areas in the 1980s and early 1990s, I have wondered over the years if one of the effects of the One Child Policy was to generally suppress interest in the martial arts as a recreational activity in urban areas, and to once again re-center these practices in more rural areas where they would be seen as a fulltime course of study in preparation for a career in the military. Ironically, this is not all that different from how many families living in the same regions had viewed them in the 19th century.

What then might we see in the future with the relaxation of the One Child Policy? The most obvious (but also the most problematic) prediction might be that this change would lead to a notable increase in the birth rate. Clearly certain party officials hope to see some increase in the number of new workers being born. And as families have more children over which to spread the burden of social obligation, they might be more willing to let some of their sons (and increasingly daughters) participate in martial arts training. Observers have been noting the declining fortunes of the traditional arts within China for some time, and the lack of new students is often explicitly tied to parental objections. So it does not seem unreasonable to expect that an increase in the birth rate might be tied to an increase in the absolute number of martial arts students.

Unfortunately these exercises in forecasting are never so simple. A large number of reporters interviewing young couples in Chinese cities have noted that the people whom they interviewed in recent weeks are not actually anticipating having more than one child, despite the promised policy change. Their reasons are essentially economic in nature. Given the expense of raising a child, the difficulty in arranging for child care, and the soaring cost of real estate, few working class urban couples feel that they can afford to have more than one child. Thus a number of observers have speculated that the change in policy might not lead to the boom in births that government planners are hoping for.

Yet even these more cautious predictions may require their own set of caveats. The existence of a robust “birth tourism” industry indicates that at least some Chinese couples are interested in and planning for the possibility of multiple births. Further, many parents are very worried about the social and psychological effects of being a singleton.

Even the economic arguments about the costs of raising a child are more complicated than they first appear. Lacking a European style safety net, and facing the possible end to decades of rapid economic growth, it seems likely that a number of couples may decide that having a second child is the best insurance against poverty in their old age that they are likely to be able to afford. In short, it is not entirely clear how the long term value vs. short term costs of an additional child will look in the next five or ten years.

While not everyone will decide to increase their family size, and these measures may be too little too late to create the sort of population bump that the government is hoping for, it is likely that the relaxation of this policy will change some of the details of how births are distributed across Chinese society.

Female student studying Wushu in a scene from Inigo Westmeier’s Dragon Girls.

What Do we do with Martial Arts Studies?

As I noted at the opening of this essay, students of martial arts studies must at some point begin to articulate the purpose of this new field. Our primary mission may be to better understand the origin of these fighting systems, how they have been discussed through time, and the various ways in which they have contributed to their host societies. But once we have accumulated this body of information, what do we do with it? What is it good for? Is understanding the martial arts the only goal, or a means to something bigger?

Personally I hope for the latter. I fully expect that many projects will take these fighting systems as their “dependent variable” (meaning the thing that is explained). Yet the most interesting thing about the martial arts is what they can reveal about the hidden nature of the communities around them. Societies often do a good job hiding certain types of conflict, friction and rupture. The martial arts, by exploring, amplifying, or seeking to ameliorate social conflict, can illuminate the details of cleavages that would otherwise remain invisible to the outside observer. This is especially true in periods of rapid social change.

As a thought experiment let us assume that the average Chinese birthrate does not change a great deal in the coming generation. Certain western observers might conclude from this that market forces (e.g., hard budget constraints) have more of an impact on family fertility decisions than government policy, especially in increasingly urban middle income countries. Thus they might say (and some already are) that the One Child Policy had very little impact on Chinese society. Would this view be correct?

Shifts in future patterns of social conflict and martial arts practice might well tell a different story. For instance, renewed interest in the folk martial arts centered in urban areas like Guangzhou, Shanghai or Beijing might point to the growing strength of an urban middle class that can afford both the luxury of additional children and investments in cultural pursuits. Such a finding would herald the coming of a certain sort of Chinese modernity.

Continued stagnation of the urban folk arts might signal something very different. Particularly if this were to be accompanied by renewed strength within the rural Wushu vocational schools as hard times inspired rural families to increase their birthrates as a hedge against the future. Renewed interest in these vocational institutions would also signal the emergence of a new, but very different, vision of Chinese modernity. Thus the sorts of martial arts that social groups choose to invest in may reveal critical information regarding their private beliefs about the future.  And as “costly signals” these opinions would be hard to ignore.

Every new macro-level development within a complex  social system creates groups of winners and losers. The art of politics often focuses on compensating, quieting or shoving aside one of these two groups. The sorts of conflicts that change brings about are not always readily apparent, especially in their early stages. Yet the martial arts have functioned as tools for addressing these tensions in the past, and they are likely to continue to do so in the future. The state has used them to promote its unifying vision of the nation, while local groups have looked to them as signs of identity and centers of cultural resistance.

I do not know what the end of the One Child Policy will bring. Yet even if birthrates remain unchanged the creation of a new demographic regime may still have an important impact on Chinese society. The value of Martial Arts Studies as an interdisciplinary pursuit goes far beyond its immediate object of study. Rather than simply being a body of facts relating to the origin and functioning of various hand combat systems, it may provide us with a lens to interpret and study aspects of social conflict that might remain invisible to more conventional modes of analysis. As we have already learned “the personal is political,” and nowhere is this more apparent than in the realm of the martial arts.

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If you enjoyed this post you might also want to read: Government Subsidization of the Martial Arts and the Question of “Established Churches” 

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Still shot of Bruce Lee in the opening scene of “Enter the Dragon.”

Introduction

Welcome to “Chinese Martial Arts in the News.”  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 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 a while since our last update so there is a lot to be covered in today’s post.  Let’s get to the news!

A scene from the 13th World Wushu Championship in Jakarta. Source: AFP.

News Stories

Wushu was once again a prominent story in the news cycle over the last few weeks.  A number of articles focused on the recent 13th annual World Wushu Championships held in Jakarta.  Teams from a large number of countries (including the United States) took part and the event received quite a bit of coverage in South East Asia.  The following article attempted to put Wushu in a historic perspective (I particularly like the note about a young Jet Li performing for Richard Nixon at the White House) while looking ahead to future expansion in the global sporting community.  As one would expect, this included a new round of speculation as to whether the Chinese fighting arts might finally find a home in the 2024 Olympic games.

The mixed martial arts have also continued to make news in China.  The country’s immense media market has proved to be a valuable prize for MMA fight promotion companies in a number of states, and not just the UFC.  This article looks at the South Korean based ROAD Fighting Championship and their plans to hold their first ever Chinese event in the Shanghai Oriental Sports Center.

Sunday morning Taiji practice at the Temple of Heaven in Beijing.

A number of news outlets were reporting the results of a recent string of studies on the benefits of regular Taijiquan practice for individuals suffering from a wide range of chronic illnesses from congestive heart failure to cancer.  One of the most visible of these articles was published in the New York Times blog and looked at the potential of Taiji to treat sleep disorders.  Harvard Health Publications also ran a short article summarizing the findings of a recent study in the British Journal of Sports Medicine that had compiled data from 33 smaller studies encompassing nearly 16000 adult patients.  It showed statistically significant quality of life improvements for patients suffering from a broad range of serious chronic conditions after they began Taiji practice, even in comparison to other forms of exercise.

Of course not all martial arts practices are equally good for one’s health.  This fact was recently demonstrated by a martial arts enthusiast in Suzhou who, after one too many drinks, scaled a street light pole, balanced himself above a busy road, and decided to practice his forms (click for video).  Luckily he managed to climb down on his own, but one suspects that the Harvard Medical School would probably not endorse this particular style of practice.

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.

The Stoneybrook Press blog recently ran an article titled “Anatomy and Gender in Martial Arts.” It is an introductory effort and I doubt that it will contain any revelations to those who follow the topic.  Still, I thought that it was interesting as a sign of the sorts of questions regarding the martial arts that popular readers are currently interested in.  At this moment gender seems to be high on that list.

Bruce Lee is always a topic of interest for the media, but the last few weeks have seen a pronounced surge in the number of stories about this iconic film maker and martial arts reformer.  I strongly suspect that even more pieces will be making an appearance in the next week or so.  Friday the 27th is the 75th anniversary of his birth and a number of media outlets are expected to note the occasion.

A somewhat preparatory article recently appeared in the pages of the South China Morning Post.  Its title (“Bruce Lee, a global hero who epitomised Hong Kong’s strengths – it’s just a pity the city could not preserve his former home“) pretty much sums up the piece.  The article mixes an acknowledgement of Lee’s importance to his home city’s global image with open criticism of government officials who failed to preserve his former estate as some sort of museum to his legacy.  Interestingly this article was authored by none other than Lam Woon-kwong, the convenor of Hong Kong’s Executive Council.  The comments on this piece also reveal something of the current popular sentiments on the issue.

I am not sure that I could count the number of times that Bruce Lee has made the cover of Black Belt Magazine, but earlier this month I was surprised to find him gracing the front of the a special issue of Newsweek.  The commemorative magazine celebrates his 75th birthday with a number of articles on various aspects of his life and career.  These include a discussion of his “Flawless Technique,” an exploration of the Hong Kong cityscape that shaped his childhood and adolescence, and an overview of “Bruce Lee’s School of Hard Knocks.”  I noticed that the Newsweek webpage also had an extensive excerpt of an article titled “The Kato Show: Bruce Lee as the Green Hornet’s Sidekick.” Given the discussion that has broken out in the last week as to what is (and is not) “revolutionary” about the AMC series Into the Badlands portrayal of Chinese masculinity on western television, this discussion may be worth reviewing.

The traditional art of Fujian province have also been in the news this month.  Yibada.com ran a piece on the area’s White Crane tradition, how it planted roots abroad, and what needs to happen for the system to gain increased international attention.  The article also contains a brief discussion of some of the ways in which local governments have sought to promote White Crane.

Ecns.com also ran a piece looking at events in the same region.  It published a short (and uninspired) photo essay of the fifth Southern Shaolin Martial Arts and Culture Festival held in Putain city (Fijian) on November 8th.  In its words “The festival has brought together various schools and aims to promote Chinese Buddhist culture. Located in the east of the Qingyuan Mountain of Quanzhou, the Quanzhou Shaolin Temple, also called the South Shaolin Temple, is the birthplace of the South Shaolin martial art, which has spread to Taiwan, Hong Kong and Macao and even Southeast Asia.”  Unfortunately with the exception of this single contested historical assertion, the article did not offer much in the way of a substantive description of what could have been an interesting event.

A still from AMC’s Into the Badlands.

Chinese Martial Arts in Popular Entertainment

The last month has seen quite a bit of entertainment news.  Perhaps the biggest event was the release of the first episode of AMC’s much anticipated (and heavily promoted) new series Into the Badlands, staring Daniel Wu and inspired by the classic Chinese fable “Journey to the West.”  The initial reviews of the series have been decidedly mixed, but they make for very interesting reading, particularly for anyone concerned with the place of the Asian martial arts in current popular culture.  Wired magazine kicked things off with a generally positive discussion that delved into some of the shows technical details.  One of the interesting points to emerge from this piece was the author’s observation that the current martial arts action available on the small screen has tended to favor close range in-fighting (Daredevil, Green Arrow) but Badlands quite consciously breaks with this pattern of fight choreography.  It will be interesting to see how subsequent action sequences in this series evolve (as well as if other choreographers begin to pick up on its more extensive style), but this observation plays into a previous conversation that I had with Paul Bowman here and here.

Other reviews were less kind.  Some noted problems in the coherence of the basic ideas behind the fantasy world that the drama is set in as well its visual design aesthetic.  A number of reviewers found the first episode to be too stiff and gory enough that it might have trouble moving beyond a dedicated martial arts fanbase.  The English language broadcast of CCTV (basically Chinese public television) had a different take on the series.  It instead viewed the project as a groundbreaking exercise in the way that Asian American were being portrayed on American television.  While listening to this I could not help but be struck with dejevu as so much of this conversation is identical to the sorts of assertions that are often made about Bruce Lee (see for instance the Newsweek special issue above).  In fact, by the end of the discussion I was starting to wonder if the promotional material for Badlands was engaging in some sort of subconscious erasure of the past.

USA Today published an interview with Daniel Wu that helped to address some of these points.  In it he discussed Bruce Lee, Jet Li and Jackie Chan as his favorite film stars and he began to explore some of the ways in which the portrayal of the martial arts in film and TV have traditionally differed.  Yet he remained largely silent on other martial arts based TV series (such as the Green Hornet, Kung Fu, Walker Texas Ranger, Daredevil etc…).

The New York Times engaged more directly with some of these points in its own, largely unfavorable, review of the series.  After characterizing the show as at best “perfectly average” (and probably the weakest of AMC’s various projects) it tackled the stylistic and aesthetic parallels between Badlands, set in a post-apocalyptic “old west,” and the original Kung Fu series, starring David Carradine, which introduced many of these same themes to American TV audiences in the 1970s.  In a revealing exchange Miles Millar (one of the creators of Badlands) directly attacked the earlier series and called the casting of Carradine (who was white) as a mixed-race monk “a travesty.”  He then pointed to Wu’s starring role in the current production as part of an effort to “redress that old injustice.”    Yet the Times critic goes on to note that the original Kung Fu series succeeded in large part because Carradine, whatever his race, was a better actor than Wu who has a limited emotional range and only really only shines in fight sequences.  While a fascinating exchange it should also be noted that much of this exchange seems to rest on unexamined assumptions (held by both sides) regarding Chinese vs. Western styles of acting and even what constitutes a proper, skillful or “realistic” martial arts story.  Still, if this final review by the Toronto Sun is any indication, it remains an open question as to whether the dramatic elements of this program will succeed in attracting and maintaining the diverse audience that AMC needs.

The Assassin. Source: Toronto Film Festival

Taiwanese Director Hou Hsiao-hsien’s much lauded film The Assassin (discussed in our last news update) was the big winner at this years Golden Horse Awards presentation.  Huo’s film earned a total of 11 nominations and by the end of the evening it had walked away with five winning statues.  These included the Golden Horse for Best Director and (in a turn that surprised no one) Best Cinematography.

Fans of the “Ip Man” franchise have greeted the increasing flow of images, interviews and information about the upcoming film (Ip Man 3) with enthusiasm.  A new trailer was even released in which you can see Donnie Yen and Mike Tyson trading blows.  I personally am even more interested to see how they handle the long poles and butterfly swords in this one.  Click here to see more.

Lastly, for anyone dreading the prospects of a Kung Fu free Thanksgiving, El Rey has your back.  It will be celebrating the great American tradition of feuding families this Thanksgiving with a 72 hour Kung Fu movie marathon.  I ran through the list of titles and it seems that all of the classics are there.   Shannon Lee and Dario Cueto will host this buffet of classic martial arts cinema.

Martial Arts Studies
There have been some very exciting developments in the academic field of Martial Arts Studies over the last month.  First, the new peer-reviewed interdisciplinary journal Martial Arts Studies released its Fall issue.  It is free to read or share on-line and offers a number of original articles, book and literature reviews.  Anyone who has been following this field (or Kung Fu Tea) will be sure to recognize a number of the names of contributing authors.  Head on over to check out the journal’s crisp new homepage, or go straight to the articles.  And while you are there be sure to check out the following book review by Douglas Wile!

Paul Bowman has recently traveled to South Korea to participate in an academic conference held at the Seoul National University on Martial Arts Studies.  There he presented a paper titled “Everything you know about Taekwondo.”  We have been promised a full report on the event after his return.

I am very excited about the next announcement.  My friend Charles Russo has spent the last few years working on a book on the early history of the Chinese martial arts on the West Coast for the University of Nebraska Press titled Striking Distance: Bruce Lee and the Dawn of Martial Arts in America.  It looks like his hard work has paid off and the volume is now available for pre-order on Amazon (for the very reasonable price of $25).  Unfortunately we will still need to wait until June of 2016 for this volume to ship, but its never too early to mark your calendar.  I expect that this book will make a big splash when it finally lands.  In the mean time here is the publishers blurb:

In the spring of 1959, eighteen-year-old Bruce Lee returned to San Francisco, the city of his birth, and quickly inserted himself into the West Coast’s fledgling martial arts culture. Even though Asian fighting styles were widely unknown to mainstream America, Bruce encountered a robust fight culture in a San Francisco Bay area that was populated with talented and trailblazing practitioners such as Lau Bun, Chinatown’s aging kung fu patriarch; Wally Jay, the innovative Hawaiian jujitsu master; and James Lee, the no-nonsense Oakland street fighter. Regarded by some as a brash loudmouth and by others as a dynamic visionary, Bruce spent his first few years back in America advocating for a more modern approach to the martial arts and showing little regard for the damaged egos left in his wake.

On the Chinese calendar, 1964 was the Year of the Green Dragon. It would be a challenging and eventful year for Bruce. He would broadcast his dissenting view before the first great international martial arts gathering and then defend it by facing down Chinatown’s young ace kung fu practitioner in a legendary behind-closed-doors high noon showdown. The Year of the Green Dragon saw the dawn of martial arts in America and the rise of an icon.

Drawing on more than one hundred original interviews and an eclectic array of sources, Striking Distance is an engrossing narrative that chronicles San Francisco Bay’s pioneering martial arts scene that thrived in the early 1960s and offers an in-depth look at a widely unknown chapter of Bruce Lee’s iconic life.

If you are looking for something to read over the holiday weekend you might want to consider the following chapter from the 2012 Routledge Handbook of Heritage in Asia (eds. by Daily and Winter) titled “Fighting modernity: traditional Chinese martial arts and the transmission of intangible cultural heritage.” Patrick Daily, the author, recently posted a PDF of this piece to his Academia.edu webpage, which is a great resource as I am constantly scouring the academic journal literature on the Chinese martial arts and had never run across this paper before.  I suspect that I am not the only person who missed it, but it is now available to a much broader audience. Daily is a faculty member of Nanyang Technological University, Earth Observatory of Singapore.

The Creation of Wing Chun by Judkins and Nielson.

If you are in the mood for something a little lighter, Kung Fu Tai Chi magazine has now released the second half of my interview discussing both my recent book on the history of Wing Chun and the Southern Chinese martial arts (with Jon Nielson) and the future of martial arts studies as an academic field.  You can read it here.

Its facebook time!

Kung Fu Tea on Facebook

As always there is a lot going on at the Kung Fu Tea Facebook group.  We discussed Daoism in Western Taijiquan manuals, the connection between the English Suffragettes and Jujitsu and some of the ways in which China’s “One Child Policy” impacted the traditional martial arts.   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.

Bruce Lee with his favorite onscreen weapon.

Introduction: Bruce Lee at 75

Yesterday I celebrated Thanksgiving with my family. As is customary on this day of remembrance I took a few moments to think about the last year and review the many things that I had to be grateful for. The year has been an eventful one.

In the professional realm I had a book published on the social history of the southern Chinese martial arts. I also delivered a keynote address at the first annual martial arts studies conference in the UK and, just recently, saw the publication of the first issue of our new journal on that same topic. I have had opportunities to meet and share my interests with all sorts of fascinating people from all over the world, and have started a number of other projects that should be bearing fruit months and years down the road. As the old Chinese saying goes, a wise man thinks of the source of the water that he drinks, and as I did so it occurred to me that I owe a profound debt of gratitude to Bruce Lee.

Today is the 75th anniversary of Lee’s birth in San Francisco. Born in California and raised in Hong Kong before returning to the West Coast at the end of the 1950s, Lee had a profound effect on the worlds of film, popular culture and the martial arts. While many claims about his career are exaggerated (one should treat with a certain degree of suspicion any assertion that someone was the “first” to do anything) there can be no doubt as to his ultimate impact on the public perception of the martial arts in America, as well as their rapid spread and popularization.

For anyone wondering what the point of Kung Fu was, Lee had a very specific answer. It combined a laser like focus on the problems of practical self-defense with a need to find personal and philosophical meaning in their practice.

Like others who came before him, Lee argued that the martial arts were ultimately a means of self-creation. Yet drawing on the counter-cultural currents of the time he freed this discourse from the ideological chains that had linked such quests with ethno-nationalist projects for much of the 20th century. He instead placed the individual student at the center of the process. For Lee the martial arts went beyond the normal paradigms of personal security and self improvement and became a means of self actualization.

His own image on the silver screen promised that through these disciplines and their philosophies one could craft a “new self,” one that was fully fit for the challenges of an age of global competition and strife. It was promised that this “new self” would grow out of the process of self expression which the martial arts facilitated. Of course one had to first understand the true nature of these systems to free oneself from their stultifying structures. Individuals might agree or disagree (sometimes violently) with Lee’s assertions, but its hard to underestimate the impact that he had on the ways in which the martial arts are discussed in the West today.

Does this mean that in the absence of Bruce Lee I would not have written my book, or that we would not currently be reading a blog about martial arts studies? Ultimately those sorts of counterfactuals are impossible to answer, and they may cause more confusion than light. Japanese teachers had been promoting their arts in the west since the dawn of the 20th century. Sophia Delza knew nothing of Bruce Lee when she introduced Wu style Taijiquan to New York City. And the Korean government’s heavy support and promotion of Taekwondo had more to do with their own post-colonial struggles with the memory of the Japanese occupation than anything that came out of China.

I suspect that even in a world in which Lee had never existed the martial arts would still have found a respectable foothold in the west. A demand for these systems existed as part of larger cultural trends following WWII, Korea and the Vietnam War. Lee’s genius lay in his ability to understand and speak powerfully to the historical moment that existed.

Following his own advice he bent with the flow of history rather than fighting against it. Certainly some things would remain the same. That seems to follow from the structural nature of 20th century modernization and globalization. Ultimately our theories about the history of the martial arts are very much stories about these two forces (among others).

Yet would I be a student of Wing Chun, a somewhat obscure fighting system from the Pearl River delta region, without Bruce Lee’s rise to fame? Would I have had an opportunity to convince a university press to publish a book whose central historical case was built around a detailed, multi-chapter, biography of Ip Man, Bruce Lee’s teacher? And what of those individuals who study the martial arts? Would this body be as diverse (and sometimes radical) in the absence of Lee’s striking ability to speak to African and Latin-American martial artists (as well as many women and Asians) in the volatile 1970s?

Anthropological studies of the martial arts and social marginality remind us that people who are the most attracted to messages of resistance and individual empowerment are precisely those who have also been disempowered by the dominant social systems of the day. While the globalization of the East Asian martial arts would have come in one guise or another, its clear that I do have a lot to be grateful for when thinking about Lee’s contributions as a film maker, teacher and popularizer of the Chinese martial arts.

Birthdays are also important times for looking to the future. There can be no doubt that Lee’s image has retained a remarkable grip on the public imagination. Decades after his death he still frequently appears on magazine covers and in video games. Books bearing his name (either as an author or in their title) are found in every bookstore with a martial arts section. And Lee’s impact on the realm of martial art films can still be detected with ease. Countless allusions to his more iconic fight sequences can be seen on both the big and small screen. Ninjas may come and go, but even in the age of MMA it seems that Bruce will always have a home on the cover of Black Belt magazine.

Still, one wonders if we are not starting to see changes in some aspects of how Lee is remembered and discussed. AMC recently aired a new series titled “Into the Badlands.” I have been following the advertising efforts around this project with great interest. The show’s creators have prided themselves in their extensive use of the martial arts. In fact, much of their advertising copy focuses on the fact that they are bringing “real” martial arts to the American small screen for the first time. Of course to make this claim with a straight face it is first necessary to seriously downplay, explain away or “forget” quite a bit of equally revolutionary TV that has come before, from Bruce Lee in the Green Hornet to Chuck Norris in Walker Texas Ranger.

A lot of discussion has also focused on Daniel Wu, the lead actor of this project. The show’s promoters have discussed the supposedly revolutionary nature of his role and the many ways in which he is changing the portrayal of Asian males in the entertainment industry. Yet if one drills down into this rhetoric very far what quickly becomes apparent is that Wu is seen as revolutionary in many of the exact same ways that Lee was seen as exceptional in his own era. The one real difference that stands out is that Wu’s character has the potential to develop a truly romantic storyline, where as this was something that was usually not seen with Lee’s films.

While the blame for this is often put on Hollywood (and there is no doubt that much of that is justified) one must also remember that Lee’s heroes came out of a genera of Cantonese storytelling and filmmaking in which romantic and martial leads tended to be somewhat segregated for important cultural reasons (see Avron Bortez for an extensive discussion of the construction of masculinity in the world of Kung Fu). While I applaud Wu for being able to pursue the sorts of roles that he finds interesting, I worry that his revolution is simultaneously erasing some of the traditional conventions of Chinese film and literature rather than challenging Western audiences with something unfamiliar. This is essentially the same discussion of hybrid borrowing vs. hegemony that seems to emerge in so many discussions of the globalization of popular culture. But whatever the ultimatel resolution to this debate, it seems that there is an effort on the part of certain advertisers to retool and downplay Bruce Lee’s achievements in an effort to create a moment of “revolution” in the current era.

Readers interested in looking at this specific discussion can see a number of the links that were included both in the most recent news update and on the Facebook group (in particular the Slate article titled “Daniel Wu is the Asian Action Hero that Bruce Lee Should have Been.”) Actually resolving the specific questions raised by all of this might take some time and far exceed the space available in this post. Yet reviewing it led me to ask whether Bruce Lee is still the revolutionary figure that he once was. In our current moment do we still need Bruce Lee and his message of radical self-creation through the martial arts? Can he still act as a force for the popularization and spread of these fighting systems? Or is he becoming too culturally remote from modern students, readers and audiences? Is it likely that the public will remember his 100th birthday with the same enthusiasm that is greeting his 75th?

Ip Man and his best known student, Bruce Lee.

Bruce Lee and the Tao of Gung Fu

As I thought about these questions over the last couple of days I found myself turning to Lee’s unpublished “manuscript” The Tao of Gung Fu. In some respects this may seem like an odd choice. This book was never published in Lee’s lifetime, and as such most of this material had a rather limited impact on the way that people discussed either him or the martial arts in the 1970s and 1980s.

Nor is it always clear to me the degree to which this collection of chapters can be considered a true “book.” From the editor’s (John Little) description it appears that Lee abandoned the project before a complete manuscript was pulled together. A number of the early chapters were in place (they even make internal references to each other) but after that there may only have been an outline. This has been flushed out with notes, drawings and other pieces that Lee wrote over the years. Some pieces are in a more finished state than others, but none of it was ever intended to be made public during Lee’s life. In fact, it must be remembered that he made the rather conscious decision to walk away from the project. As such we can only speculate as to what would have made it into the final version had Bruce decided to actually pursue publication.

One of the things that bothers me about this particular book, as it was posthumously published by Tuttle and the Lee estate, is that it attempts to seamlessly weave this mass of material together into a coherent whole rather than letting the individual pieces, written over a range of years, stand on their own. Nor does it attempt to label what the original documentary sources of the various “chapters” actually were and how they fit into the larger body of Lee’s papers.

Obviously this is an annoyance for other historians working on Lee. And it is especially problematic when one realizes that a number of these essays were originally composed as papers for Lee’s classes as University of Washington. While clearly bright and interested in philosophy (as well as its application to the martial arts) Lee is the sort of student who likely gave his teachers heart burn. As multiple other scholars (including John Little and James Bishop) have pointed out, Lee was guilty of plagiarizing a number of passages and key ideas throughout these essays.

In a few cases he simply borrowed text while dropping the quotes and footnotes, while in others he followed his sources much too closely (a problem known as “patchwriting”). In a number of other cases he appropriates ideas or insights without proper citation, or plays fast and loose with his sources. For a student of philosophy a surprising number of very detailed arguments are simply attributed to “Taoism” with no further support.

Worst of all, some of Lee’s best known personal stories, such as his exchange with his teacher Ip Man about the problem of relaxation, turn out to have been lifted from other sources (in that particular case the important popularizer of Zen, Allen Watts who had a striking similar exchange with his Judo teacher). James Bishop seems to be the best source currently available on the extent of Lee’s plagiarism and the sources that he was actually drawing on. Of course Lee never intended that these essays be published, let alone to be printed on t-shirts.

Given this list of problems and cautions, one might wonder why I would even discuss such a book. Simply put, the Tao of Gung Fu is a critical work not because the material in it is in any way original, but because it does a great job of clarifying the issues that were being discussed among a certain type of Chinese martial artist at a specific moment in time, and the sorts of sources that they had available to them (both in terms of technical manuals, but also cultural and philosophical resources) to make sense of all of it. While fans might be crushed by some of the instances of Lee’s patchwriting and plagiarism (which varied from unintentional to egregious) the transparent nature of these problems is actually a great blessing to cultural historians and students of martial arts studies.

Lee often starts by outlining questions that a wide variety of readers in his era would have found interesting, and with only a few minutes of googling you can figure out exactly what resources a young, somewhat educated martial artist would have had access to in both the Chinese and English language literatures. In short, for anyone interested in the specific steps by which the Chinese martial arts were culturally appropriated by the West, this is a remarkable resource.

If you want to better acquaint yourself with the sources of Lee’s philosophy on the martial arts, this is the book that I would recommend. And for Wing Chun students it has the additional bonus of providing critical insight into how (at least some) individuals were discussing the system during the late 1950s and 1960s.

What then is the ultimate root of Lee’s philosophy of the martial arts? What ideas did he turn to in order to both make sense of these fighting traditions and to provide them with increased social meaning (and status) against the backdrop of Chinese culture and thought?

The Tao of Gung Fu provides an embarrassment of riches on these sorts of questions. Students of Wing Chun will likely find Lee’s discussions of Chi Sao (some of which is quite philosophical) to be the most interesting. And readers of history will no doubt want to pay close attention to Lee’s understanding of the subject as discussed in the book’s closing chapters.

Yet perhaps one of the most important themes in Lee’s thinking is outlined in the very first chapter before being expanded upon throughout the rest of the manuscript. Here we see Lee outlining a three step process (one that he attributes to Daoism) in which something progresses from 1) the “primitive” stage 2) the stage of “art” 3) the stage of “artlessness.”

Most often this progression is applied to the martial arts themselves. Lee sees in this pattern the meta-history of the Chinese martial arts as a whole. They progressed from a simple, but natural, system to a more sophisticated but stultifying understanding. Finally, after years of hard work Chinese martial artists practiced, experimented and realized what non-essential material could be stripped away, leaving a set of systems what was both sophisticated but once again natural in its execution.

In other places Lee appears to apply this same process to the life history of individual styles. It can also be viewed as the stages that any given martial artist must progress through. In fact, Lee’s iconic “Liberate Yourself from Classical Karate” article is premised on this idea, as well as Lee’s contention that most Western martial artists at the time were stuck in stage two.

Lee’s use of this basic framework extended far beyond the martial arts. At times he seems to have seen it as a more general lens by which we could examine the struggle of humans with both the natural and social worlds. Note for instance that Lee attempts to explain this teleology to his readers by using it as an explanation of the evolution of Chinese grammar between the classical and modern periods. And grasping its logic seems to be a precondition for the introduction of his later discussion of the nature of Yin and Yang in both the martial arts and Asian philosophy.

Given the centrality of this idea to Lee’s thought, it might be useful to ask where it originates. Lee himself claims that the idea is indigenous to Taoism and, at other points, Zen. This later claim may be bolstered by the observation of some Japanese stylists that their own systems suggest a similar progressive understanding of katas (or forms) in three progressive stages.

At the same time it must be remembered that Lee was a philosophy student when much of this material was written, and then resonances with some of the western thinkers he would have been introduced to is noteworthy. The system Lee is proposing seems to be somewhat in debt to Hegel and his progression from “thesis,” to “anti-thesis” and ultimately “synthesis.” We have already seen that Lee was very familiar with the works of Allen Watts, and its possible that this idea may have found its genesis in his writings. Indeed, this might be why Lee sometimes claims that he was outlining a “Zen” theory of progress.

While I suspect that this element of Lee’s thought reflects his study of Western writers and sources, once established it is the sort of thing that you can begin to see everywhere. We know, for instance, that Lee was influenced by the ideas of the mystic and writer Krishnamurti. While I have yet to find an exact statement of this idea in his writings, once it has been established in your mind it’s the sort of thing that will find easy parallels and support in some of Krishnamurti’s statements. Much the same goes for the Dao De Jing. I suspect that this theory of “becoming” struck Lee with such force, and became a cornerstone of his thought in this period, precisely because it seemed to find support in so many sources. The ease with which both Eastern and Western (and possibly even Marxist) sources could be used to illustrate aspects of this theory must have made it seem both universal and self-evident.

I suspect that this idea was also critical to Lee because while it facilitated a rejection of stultifying forms, it also argued that these things could only be overcome through study, experimentation and exhaustive practice. When we look at Lee’s workouts in this period (also provided by John Little) we see that Lee was drilling himself in basic techniques at the same time that he was advocating empirical verification and freedom from pointless tradition. There has always appeared to be a fundamental tension here, between what is necessary to learn a technique, and the desire to transcend it in the search of something more natural or personal. This three step teleology spoke directly to that dilemma, and claimed that the way forward was not a return to a primitive state that rejected scientific advances, but rather through a long and arduous process of additional practice, refinement and (most importantly) experimentation.

Bruce Lee sketching on the set for Game of Death. Photograph: Bruce Lee Estate. Source: The Guardian.

Conclusion: Walking On

While interesting on a technical level, its also important to think about the social implications of all of this. The claim that the only true knowledge which is possible is self-knowledge, gained through extensive practice and experimentation, is most likely to be attractive to individuals who feel themselves to be alienated from other sources of social power or meaning. Indeed, the basic ideas about self-actualization that Lee draws on have their origins in China’s martial arts sub-cultures which often acted as an alternate means of self-creation for marginal individuals within Chinese society.

As I have argued at length elsewhere, this would have been the context in which Lee first saw the martial arts being taught in Ip Man’s school to a generation of often angry, surprisingly alienated, young men in the Hong Kong during the 1950s. Lee’s contribution was to take this basic pattern and to combine it with the philosophical and counterculture currents of his own day in such a way that westerners could access this same technology of self-creation.

The 1970s, when the Chinese martial arts first exploded into popular consciousness, was a volatile decade. Globalization in trade markets was causing economic pain and increased income inequality at home at the same time that some western nations faced both security challenges and open conflict abroad. Nor did the gains of the civil rights movement in the US ensure the spread of racial harmony. Everywhere one looked traditional social institutions seemed to be under attack and society was struggling to produce new ways of understanding and coping with these challenges. Given these structural factors, it is not surprising that Lee’s onscreen presence and martial arts philosophy (to the extent that it was known at the time) had a profound effect on a generation of seekers looking for a new set of tools in their quest for self-production.

In many respects we seem to be entering a similar era. Clearly the situation today is not identical. The Cold War is gone, and an information and service based economy has replaced the manufacturing one (at least in the West). Yet many of the more fundamental concerns remain the same. Economic insecurity, militarism abroad and social conflict at home are once again challenging basic notions of what our nations stand for. Levels of public trust in a wide range of institutions has reached an all time low, and social organizations that once supported vibrant communities in past eras are struggling to survive.

Indeed, many of these factors are directly challenging the economic health and social relevance of the traditional martial arts today. Yet where large schools might falter one wonder’s if we are not seeing a renewed opportunity for the expansion of Lee’s ethos of individual struggle, experimentation and practice. If nothing else the recent discussion of Daniel Wu by the advertisers at AMC could be seen as evidence that there is a hunger for the renewal (and expansion) of the sort of revolution that Lee originally introduced to the West in the 1970s.

As the needs of students and audiences change I fully expect that the ways in which we see Bruce Lee will continue to evolve. That is the sign of a healthy discourse, and it suggests that Lee might be just as important for understanding the current situation within the martial arts community as its mid-twentieth century history. Given the cultural moment that we now find ourselves in, Lee’s promise of self-creation and his basic philosophy seem more important than ever. And as long as his achievements continue to be the yardstick by which each new “revolution” in the martial arts is measured, it seems likely that the memory of the Little Dragon will indeed live to see its 100th Birthday.

oOo

If you enjoyed this post you might also want to read: Two Encounters with Bruce Lee: Finding Reality in the Life of the Little Dragon

oOo

The Creation of Wing Chun: A Social History of the Southern Chinese Martial Arts by Benjamin Judkins and Jon Nielson. State University of New York Press, 2015.

Given that today is “Cyber Monday,” one of the largest on-line shopping days of the year, it is only fitting that I give something away.  A reader recently informed me that the State University of New York Press has posted most of the first chapter of my book, The Creation of Wing Chun: A Social History of the Southern Chinese Martial Arts, as a PDF to their webpage.   As such this seems like the perfect time to share that text with my readers here at Kung Fu Tea.  You can find it by clicking this link.

I actually thought that it was a bit odd that they decided to convert Chapter 1, titled “Growth and Disorder: Paradoxes of the Qing Dynasty,” into a sample PDF.  This section of the text attempts to provide readers with the basic historical and conceptual tools to make sense of the later case studies (though there is some good information in there for martial artists to be aware of).  If SUNY had asked my advice (which they did not) I would have told them to post my Introduction instead.  Not only does it outline the project, but many readers might find its literature review to be really helpful.  In this case it looks like they decided to jump right into the “meat” of the text instead.

If, after reading this chapter, you decide that you want to hear more directly how I discuss Wing Chun, you can check out the following conference paper, which summarizes the book’s conclusion.  You can also find Douglas Wile’s recent discussion of my book here. Or you could just head on over to Amazon and order either a hardback copy for your library or the electronic version (at a notable discount) to read on your Kindle.   And if you still need something to ponder while waiting for you acquisition to arrive, try checking out this recent essay which asks whether the world still needs the memory of Bruce Lee?  Enjoy!

A studio image of two Chinese soldiers (local “braves”) produced probably in Hong Kong during the 1850s. Note the hudiedao (butterfly swords) carried by both individuals. Unknown Photographer.

Bernard the Kung Fu Elf, training for a spot on the elite North Pole Alpine Search and Rescue team. (Source: late 1940s Swedish Postcard, Authors personal collection.)

“In business, be competent.
In action, watch the timing.
No fight: No blame.”

Introduction

I bet you didn’t know that the Dao De Jing was full of Christmas shopping advice. It turns out that it is, and this is the perfect time to start thinking hard about what you are going to get that hard to please martial artist on your list. Or if you are the one looking for some martial arts books and gear to help you pass those long winter nights, this is the post for you.

This year’s shopping list is split into four categories: books, weapons (mostly sharp), training equipment, and items of cultural interest. I have tried to select items at a variety of price points for each category. Some of the gift ideas are quite reasonable while others are admittedly aspirational. After all, Christmas is a time for dreams, so why not dream big!

Given the emphasis of this blog, most of these ideas pertain to the Chinese martial arts, but I do try to branch out in places. I have also put at least one Wing Chun item in each category. Nevertheless, with a little work many of these ideas could be adapted to fit the interests of just about any martial artists.

As a disclaimer I should point out that I have no financial relationship with any of the firms listed below (except for the part where I plug my own book). This is simply a list of gift ideas that I thought were interesting. It is not an endorsement or a formal product review. Lastly, I would like to thank my friend Bernard the “Kung Fu Elf” (see above) for helping me to brainstorm this list.

Books: Feed your Head

For a supposedly oral branch of popular culture the Chinese martial arts sure do produce a lot of books. In fact, books make the ideal gift as they cater to a wide variety of interests, are never the wrong size and (unlike a number of items slightly further down) will not slow you down in the airport security line.  My first pick for this year would have to be Kung Kuen Fundamentals and Hung Kuen Training by Lam Chun Fai (and Hing Chao).   You can think of these as volumes one and two of the same project.  At about $50 they will be the most interesting to students of Hung Gar in all of its many incarnations.  But the historical discussions in these volumes will also make them of interest to any student of the Southern Chinese martial arts.  The quality of these volumes is excellent and you can find a description of the contents of both books here.

Of course one of the challenge that Bernard and I face every year is coming up with gift ideas that might appeal to a wide range of readers, and not just those from a single style .  That is why I like this next suggestion.  As some of you already know Ted Mancuso has been working on a short series of books looking at the basic weapons that appear in the Chinese (and Asian) martial arts.  Probably no weapon is more commonly encountered than the staff or pole.  In this volume this often overlooked weapon and training tool gets the detailed discussion and focus that it so richly deserves.  If you have been thinking of taking another look at your pole form, you may find the discussion in this book to be interesting and helpful.  While you are at it you might also want to check out his discussion of the spear.

The sorts of literature that we see engaging with the martial arts has now expanded well beyond the “how to” manual.  Those whose tastes run towards the philosophical and autobiographical may want to check out Not Afraid: On Fear, Heartbreak, Raising a Baby Girl, and Cage Fighting by Daniele Bolelli.  This book tackles some pretty intense subject matter but Bolelli is always an engaging writer with a flair to discussing the martial life.  Better yet it just started to ship a few days ago, making it the perfect gift for the martial artist on your list.

Readers interested in exploring beyond the standard literature on the Chinese martial arts may be interested in Alexander C. Bennett’s recent historical, cultural and political account of the development of Kendo.   Kendo: Culture of the Sword (published by the University of California Press) is a nice example of the sort of work that we are seeing in this new generation of martial arts studies research.  Obviously many of the individual events that Bennett discusses are grounded in Japanese history, yet the more general themes that arise in an investigation of the origins of Kendo can be seen in the evolution of a number of arts throughout Asia.  Hopefully the next couple of years will see the publication of some serious comparative studies which will allow us to better leverage our growing understanding of these individual arts to tackle more basic theoretical questions.

The Creation of Wing Chun: A Social History of the Southern Chinese Martial Arts by Benjamin Judkins and Jon Nielson. State University of New York Press, 2015. August 1.

What gift list would be complete without an author plugging their own book?  Obviously students of Wing Chun (and those interested in the lives of Ip Man or Bruce Lee) will find this work to be very interesting.  In addition to providing a detailed case study of the development of Wing Chun in and around Foshan, this book outlines a social history of the broader hand combat community of the Pearl River Delta region.  Thus readers from a variety of Chinese styles may find this discussion quite helpful.  While I realize this book maybe in the “aspirational” category at $90 for some, it is a very good example of how an  interdisplinary approach (economic, political, and historical) can lead to a better understanding of what factors influence the development of martial arts styles.  For those who may not be familiar with the specifics of these systems, don’t worry, it has been written in a very accessible way.  No prior experience in Wing Chun is necessary.   I should also mention that I have seen copies of this book on-line going for about $75 if you shop around.

Weapons: The Cutting Edge

The Christmas Gift Guide is always one of the most popular end of the year features here at Kung Fu Tea, and I know from prior reader feedback the “weapons” category seems to demand the lion’s share of that attention.  The big news this year is that Kris cutlery had brought their line of hand crafted hudiedao back!  I have always really liked these swords as they are in many ways the closest copies that you will see to the sorts of swords that were actually carried for combat purposes in the middle and later parts of the 19th century.  As this post reminds us, we do need to be careful about making broad generalizations as there was always a huge amount of variation in the styles, dimensions and even construction techniques seen in this class of weapon.  Nevertheless, most of the antique hudoiedao that one will encounter today will look a lot more like this than what you typically see hanging on the walls of the average Wing Chun school.

I have always been particularly fond of this blade profile as well as the steel handguards.  The form feels different when performed with knives like these and they force you to reprioritize your approach.  And if you ever wanted to do any cutting exercises, these blades (rather than very expensive period antiques) would be the way to go.  (It goes without saying however that either forms practice or cutting with live blades can be very dangerous and these exercises should be supervised by someone who knows what they are doing).  The last time I I talked with Kris about these swords they had dropped them from their lineup as they were too expensive to make, so I am thrilled to see them back and comparably priced ($265) to what they were.

http://www.everythingwingchun.com/

Those looking to get a feel for this older style of blade without making the big investment necessary to purchase a set of vintage swords (or the more moderate investment necessary to get a set of decent reproductions) might want to consider these plastic training swords from Everything Wing Chun.  The blade profile is close to correct and long enough (14 inches) to get you into the sorts of sizes that were commonly encountered in historic weapons.  Better yet, you can practice your forms or train at the school without having to worry about getting cut or destroying your $1200 antiques!  For $35 these are a great training tool.  And if the “stabbers” are not your style you can get very similar practice swords with a wide range of blade shapes and lengths from the same source.  The Wing Chun practitioner on your list would get a lot of use out of these training knives.

Chu shing Tin demonstrating the pole form. Source: http://www.wingchun.edu.au

Of course the Butterfly Swords are only half of the Wing Chun weapons equation.  Even more critical in the training of basic skills in the long pole.  I love the pole because of its versatility.  In skilled hands its a fearsome weapon, yet it is also a simple piece of equipment for strength training and conditioning.  Really nice poles made from exotic hardwoods can set you back a $200-$300, but for basic daily training its hard to go wrong with these red oak poles, also from everything Wing Chun.  At $70 they are priced to sell.

Of course there is no reason to stick with the tried and true.  Why not consider giving yourself the gift of a new set of weapons skills (and possibly a trip to the emergency room) over the holidays.  Various sorts of chain whips have been a part of southern Kung Fu culture for a long time.  I have always been interested in learning more about them, but never had the time.  But if you decide that this if your project Tiger Claw had both seven and nine section whips as well as instructional DVDs and books.  Just remember what I said about the emergency room.

Qing Damascus Lamellar Zhibeidao. Source: http://armsandantiques.com

Our last selection is strictly for the seasoned weapons collector looking for something really unique.  This late 19th or early 20th century sword appears to be Jian but in fact is slightly different.  The blade has only been sharpened on one edge and had a different cross-section than what you might be expecting.  This style of sword (called a Zhibeidao) shows up from time to time but is not very common.  I have always wanted to handle one of these but have yet to get the chance.  But that chance could be yours for the (not totally unreasonable) price of $1500.

Training Gear

Do you want to train like a Shaolin monk?  No, I don’t either.  But at least you can wear their now iconic foot gear as you train in the (relative) comfort of your local school.  These are inexpensive, no frills, shoes that won’t break the bank.  But they are also instantly recognizable in the world of the Chinese martial arts and sure to bring a smile when unwrapped.  These shoes are available in white and black.  Personally I like the black better, but white is definitely the classic look.

Photo of Wallbag. Source: Everything Wing Chun.

If there is a Wing Chun stylist in your life, why not help them to upgrade their wall bag?  As I tell my own students, a wall bag is both the most important, and the least expensive, piece of training equipment you will ever use.  It does everything from training the basic punch to conditioning the hands and more.  Lots of places on the internet carry decent wall bags, though I have always appreciated the little bit of extra quality that you get when you splurge for the leather lining or embroidery.  For Christmas this year why not give the gift of chain punches?

Speaking of bags, here is something else to consider.   We certainly used the heavy bag in my Wing Chun school, but I didn’t come to appreciate how important a training tool it was until I started with a group of kickboxers as part of an ongoing research project.  Now I am a convert.  Rounds on the heavy bag are always going to be a part of my basic boxing and conditioning workout.  I like this particular model for a couple of reasons.  First, its free standing so you don’t have to worry about hanging it.  Secondly at 72 inches its tall enough to be “realistic.”  At the same time padding goes all the way down to the base allowing you to train the low kicks and knees that are critical for self defense drills.  At $250 its not cheap, but its still a great investment if you have the space.

If you are going to start using the heavy bag for serious training routines you will probably want to invest in a set of gloves at some point.  Either the lighter MMA or the more traditional Boxing models will do.  For bag work I prefer the heavier traditional boxing gloves.  There is no need to spend a fortune on these and you can generally get a pair of decent gloves for between $30 and $70 dollars.  The two most common makers are Title and Everlast.  Between the two I always feel more comfortable with the slightly squarer fist shape of the Everlast gloves.  Your millage may vary.  Its also nice to have some gel in the gloves, especially if you plan on using traditional wrist wraps.  These gloves will only set you back about $60.  And if you ask around at your local gym or YMCA you will probably discover that they already have a heavy bag in a closet or back room.  Add a round timer and an mouth guard and you are ready to add a new dimension to your workout.

Buick Yip – Mui Fa Jong. Source: Everything Wing Chun

No Christmas gift list would be complete without a nod to the traditional wooden dummy (particularly where Wing Chun students are concerned).  But this year I thought I would feature something a little different.  The hanging dummies made famous by Ip Man and Bruce Lee get most of the press, but the Chinese martial arts have generated a lot of other sorts of training devices that are technically “wooden dummies” as well.  Perhaps the best known of these are Plum Blossom Poles.  Wooden pillars are typically sunk into the ground and are supposed to help students with their balance, stepping and shifting.  Some Wing Chun schools (including mine) even practice Chi Sao on the Plum Blossom Poles.  Recently Buick Yip, who makes some of the very nicest wooden dummies out there, has started to produce his own line of portable Plum Blossom poles.  Each pole is seven inches across and six inches high.  They are made of camphor wood and could be attached to a board, though they are meant to be portable.  I think this last feature is great as I have worked in a couple of training spaces that are small enough that it would certainly have been nice to be able to pack up the plum blossom poles when not is use.  Like everything Buick Yip does, this footwork dummy is a thing of beauty, and at $300 you will pay for it.

Artistic and Cultural Objects

Our final set of suggestions is less specific to any given tradition or training method, and instead focuses on the artistic or cultural aspect of the Asian martial arts.  Everyone loves a good martial arts documentary, and one of the best ones to come out in the last couple of years was “The Black Kung Fu Experience” directed by Martha Burr and Mei-Juin Chen.   One of the reasons why I personally like this documentary is that touches on a number of sorts of themes that we often discuss in martial arts studies, but it does so in very concrete and personal ways.  All in all, its a nice introduction to what is too often an overlooked chapter in the history of the martial arts in the west.

Woodblock print of Chinese warrior holding a sword.

Or perhaps you would like to spend a few of the upcoming cold and dark winter evenings exploring the origins of Chinese martial arts culture?  In such case it might be worth investing in a good translation of Outlaws of the Marsh (also sometimes called Water Margin).  This sprawling novel has had a profound impact on the way that the martial arts have been imagined and understood within many successive generations of Chinese popular culture.  Some researchers have gone so far as to call it the “Old Testament” of the Chinese martial art world.  That assessment seems about right to me, and I have always been a bit surprised that we have not seen more discussions of it in the recent literature.  Certainly for those interested in how the Martial Arts may have been imagined in the Song, Yuan and Ming dynasties, this is a critical resource.  But the 108 Heroes of the marsh are also living and vital figures in modern popular culture traditions.

Or how about a little art for the wall?  The Chinese martial arts have always generated great visual images, but these days I find that I am more interested in photographs that manage to escape the stereotyped misty mountains and show these traditions in a more vital, modern and urban context.  While quickly perusing the offerings of allposters.com I found a couple of great images that could grace the wall of either your home or school and are available in wide variety of sizes and framing options.  The first of these is the now iconic image of a Shaolin monk walking onto the grounds of the temple in Henan while carrying an Burger King bag.  This image became somewhat famous after it graced the cover of Matthew Polly’s book American Shaolin (which might also make nice Christmas gift for someone).  Now it can hang on your walls as well.  The second image captures a slice of modern Taiji culture, as well as the Shanghai city skyline.  Both are great pictures.

Mini buick yip dummy. Source: Everything Wing Chun

Miniature wooden dummies are apparently now a thing.  This actually makes me glad as I am always looking for sculptural expressions of Chinese martial arts culture, and I have always felt that the strong lines of the traditional Mook Yan Jong make a great architectural statement.  Now you can put that same statement on your desk.  Buick Yip (the maker of the Plum Blossom Poles that we discussed above) has released his own line of miniature dummies made to the same exacting standards as his full size models.  And like the originals these too are available in a variety of exotic hardwoods including Lychee and Tiger Marble.  The dummy stands about a foot tall and the body has a diameter of one and half inches.  Its the perfect size to use either as a gift or award.  At $130 I suspect that it is as close as I will get to owning a Buick Yip dummy for the next couple of years.

A home silhouetted by the moon on Christmas eve. These architectural cards were some of the most commonly given and are a valuable remainder of the material lives that Americans at the turn of the century aspired to. Note the art nouveau influenced gate. (Source: Vintage American Postcard, authors personal collection.)

Conclusion: The Best Things in Life are Free

Its important to remember that many of the best things about the holidays come free of charge.   These include the chance to spend time with our friends and families, to get caught up with old training partners or teachers, and to reflect on what the new year might hold.  But now you can also add a subscription to the new interdisciplinary journal Martial Arts Studies to that list.  Published twice yearly this journal is available for free to anyone with an internet connection.  It features research and discussion by some of the top names in the field and it will look great on your tablet, desktop or phone.  So as you get caught up with your “Kung Fu Family” over the holidays please consider passing the link along.

And if you still need help shopping for all of the martial artists on your list consider checking out the 2012, 2013 and 2014 gift guides.

A detailed view of one of the 19th century murals at the Shaolin Temple in Henan. Original published source unknown.

Religion, Violence and the Asian Martial Arts
Tel Aviv University – Department of East Asian Studies Conference, November 23, 2015.

Introduction

Today’s post will introduce readers to some of the recent developments in the global field of Martial Arts Studies. This comes in the form of a conference report, submitted by Abi Moriya, on a recent gathering held at Tel Aviv University titled “Religion, Violence and the Asian Martial Arts” on November 23rd of 2015. Sponsored by the Department of East Asian Studies this one day conference featured some very well-known writers who will already be familiar to readers of Kung Fu Tea, as well as the work of a number of younger, up and coming, scholars.

The following report focuses most if its attention on the keynote addresses. While all of the topics are important I suspect that many readers will be most interested in the results of Prof. Zhou Weiliang’s research into the history and possible whereabouts of the “Southern Shaolin Temple.” Still, after reading through the conference program I admit that I am looking forward to seeing a number of these papers in print.

Increasingly we are seeing more gatherings dedicated to Martial Arts Studies and related topics around the globe. If you find yourself in attendance at one of these conferences please consider submitting a report of your own so that other readers can keep up with this ever evolving conversation.

Lastly, there is a news item that needs to be discussed before going on. The schedule has just been published for the upcoming conference titled “Gender Issues in Theory and Practice.” This event, sponsored by the Martial Arts Studies Research Network, will be held at the University of Brighton on February 5th, 2016. Attendance is free, but they need you to register anyway. Click here to see the list of papers and to find the registration details. Hopefully we will be able to get some reports from this event as well!

Conference Report: Religion, Violence and the Asian Martial Arts

The topic of this conference is timeless, yet it is also very relevant to the present situation in Europe and the Middle East. What is a photograph of a terrorist from the Islamic State, who decapitated one of his victims, doing in a lecture about Guan Yu? Israel, like other countries, is facing at this moment a wave of violence. Recently much of this has taken the form of knife and blade attacks. If we try to analyze the situation we will soon face its religious and ideological components. But still, trying to successfully weave together the numerous threads of the headlines is not an easy task.

As with most academic lectures, the chosen language of presentations at this conference was English. The exception was Prof. Zhou Weiliang who spoke in Chinese. I believe that most of the participants in this event had some familiarity with Asian culture. Nevertheless, translating ideas that are deeply rooted in one culture to another language is not that easy.

We try to describe our region, to formulate its rules and our thoughts through imperfect language. This is also a common challenge in the martial arts. Many times we describe in words feelings and movements only to discover the gap between words and deeds.

Popular Chinese terms, which may be understood by every educated Chinese person, have found their way to the western world through a different prism, sometimes trying to remain loyal to older translations. That reminds me of a saying of Bruce Kumar Frantzis: “When Taiji Quan terms were first translated to English there wasn’t a good Taiji Quan teacher who knew English well and vice versa…”

The first session of the conference had three distinguished guests, all well known to the CMA community, who gave short (20 minutes) lectures:

Professor Barend ter Haar – Oxford University
Professor Meir Shahar – Tel Aviv University
Professor Zhou Weiliang 周伟良 – Zhengzhou University

Since I was asked to give a Xingyi Quan demonstration at the opening of the conference, I had plenty of time to watch the whole event from the audience’s point of view.

A display of strength using a Wukedao, or heavy exam knife. Source: http://steelandcotton.tumblr.com/post/79458102847/i-dont-oppose-playing-ball-in-the-least-but-i#notes

Lecture 1: Prof. Barend ter Haar: “Guan Yu: Violent and Moral Deity.”

As far as I know, China never had a single organized pantheon of gods, so there is no universal “God of War” who is common to all the Chinese, like Mars in ancient Roman religion and myth, or Ares in ancient Greece. Guan Yu 關羽is a god of war who is associated with Confucianism while Zhen Wu is linked to the Daoist tradition, etc.

In his lecture, professor ter Haar discussed briefly Guan Yu’s life. He claimed that he was an “unsuccessful historical figure” who was eventually decapitated. So, how did such a figure became worshiped and highly popular in Chinese culture?

According to ter Haar he was deified because he came to be associated with an admired quality: loyalty, and more specifically his loyalty to Cao Cao曹操; a warlord and the penultimate Chancellor of the Eastern Han who rose to great power in the final years of the dynasty. Ter Haar then made a great leap to the present, showing a decapitation by the Islamic State, and declaring that “This is how Guan Yu’s death would look today.” The audience was asked to turn their heads in case the modern version was too much to watch…

The second section of the lecture focused on Guan Yu’s figure in different temples and its evolving iconography: including his red face, unique beard and iconic weapon. My interest in this part did not last long as the Guan Dao 關刀 (yanyuedao 偃月刀) was not the focus of the discussion.

The third part of the lecture described a street performance by a local theatre company in Taiwan, which included Guan Yu’s figure. Ter Haar also discussed Daoist practices which are predominant in Guan Yu worship. Many temples dedicated to Guan Yu, including the Emperor Guan Temple in Xiezhou County, show heavy Daoist influence. Every year, on the 24th day of the sixth month on the lunar calendar (legendary birthday of Guan), a street parade in the honor of Guan Yu was held.

I was expecting that all these disparate strands of information would somehow be woven together into a single argument, but alas…. During a conversation with a doctoral student of the Department of East Asian Studies, I learned that this is how Professor ter Haar prefers to “slice the apple,” by chopping it into many sections.

Lecture 2: Prof. Meir Shahar: “Martial Gods and Divine Armies.”

My acquaintance with Professor Shahar goes many years back. He reviewed my own book, and kindly invited me to his CMA history course at the TLV University as a guest lecturer and for demonstrations.

Professor Shahar is currently focusing on the history of Chinese gods, especially Nezha. He has written a book awaiting publication titled the “Oedipal God: The Chinese Nezha and his Indian Origins.”

Many books have been written about symbolism in Chinese culture (1), but it is always a pleasure to discover some new facts. In his lecture, Shahar described divined armies who have a protective roll in Chinese culture and are worshiped by the common people. Most of the pictures he showed were taken during his trips to Taiwan.

One of the most interesting subjects in the lecture was the symbolism of different objects and their meaning. Five bamboo sticks in the grounds which surround the village represent these same divine armies. At times the direction they face correlates to the five elements.

The next picture was of a priest who carried a special prayer. Afterwards the townspeople marched around the village and entered into a collective trance. This allowed them to stab, puncture, and hit themselves in various ways. At that point I was amazed to see that along the parade route what Shahar described as “Mini Golf Carts.” Each of these carts contained various weapons, needles, whips, etc., which were selected and used by the people in trance.

The last part of the lecture was an explanation of the temple’s structure. Under the table at the front there is a statue of a tiger, named simply the “Black Tiger.” This is symbolic of the lower divine god. The statue on top of the table is usually of a martial god, such as the Diamond God (Jingangshou pusa 金剛手菩薩), which represent the middle divine god.

An image from the southern Chinese martial arts manuscript collection known in Japan and Okinawa as the Bubishi.

Lecture 3: Professor Zhou Weiliang “The Heaven and Earth Society and the Southern Shaolin Monastery”; Tiandihui Yu Nan Shaolin Si天地會與南少林寺.

Perhaps because my written Chinese is not fluent, I was not exposed to much of Professor Zhou’s writing prior to the conference. Some of his publications (2) were mentioned in Meir Shahar’s book (3), others in Stanley Henning’s article , who wrote:

“Professor Zhou left no stone unturned in his efforts, and has covered all aspects of the Chinese martial arts – historical, technical, and socio-cultural – in amazing detail. His writings, of which I have just mentioned a few, are essential reading for gaining an understanding of the full scope of activity that makes up the term “traditional Chinese martial arts.” Professor Zhou is, without question, one of China’s top martial studies scholars.”(4)

I had the opportunity to have lunch with Prof. Zhou and found him to be “not very Chinese.” Mr. Zhou is a great interlocutor, expressive and straight forward. Not the “beating around the bush” type of guy. I felt very comfortable talking with him. I found that he practices different martial arts, and that he had even made an appointment with one of the university’s doctoral students to practice Tan Tui 彈腿.

In his paper he focused on the question: “Is there a southern Shaolin monastery?”

The first part of the lecture described rebellious societies in Fujian province, especially the Heaven and Earth Society (Tiandihui a.k.a Hongmen 洪門) and their connections to the martial arts, since some of the founders came from that province. The Hongmen grouping is today more or less synonymous with the whole Tiandihui concept, although the title “Hongmen” is also claimed by some criminal groups.

The second part of his paper turned to a survey of three different monasteries in Fujian. All of these claim to have direct roots going back to the shaolin monastery in Henan, and call themselves the “Southern Shaolin Monastery.” Professor Zhou showed pictures and gave a short description of the three. His conclusion was sharp and clear: Even though there were some archeological discoveries at one of the monasteries, none of them is a “real Shaolin.”

At the conclusion of his lecture I asked him about the Fujian White Crane systems practiced in Taiwan. Specifically, does the fact that some of these groups use Buddhist terminology indicate any connection to the Shaolin Monastery? Professor Zhou’s replied that there is no such connection and, worse yet, some styles may use false names in order to claim a superior link to Shaolin.

I will speak more briefly about the second session of the conference. I guess that the way to become a professor is to spend endless hours standing in front of an audience. That was very clear in contrast to the first session starting with things like the flow of speech and ending with the body language and apparent inability to sit comfortably at the lecturers table. My heart and empathy goes out to the doctoral students of the second session, who all gave their best effort. Yet all in all, papers read directly from the page are not very interesting to me.

The material itself, such as a written document by A’de 阿德, which was provided to Professor Shahar, and from him to a doctoral student, has true value and deserves its own discussion. Professor Zhou saved the day in this case by noting that this document should not actually read fluently, but is instead a poetic verse which describes different styles, weapons and deities of the Shaolin temple.

To conclude this short review, I am sure that this conference has been another brick in the construction of the edifice of Martial Arts Studies both in Israel and abroad. This field, populated by both academic and independent researchers, is infinite, so it is no wonder that some prefer to focus their research on specific subjects. My personal hope is this experience and knowledge will influence my own point of view in my work at the School for Coaches and Instructors, Wingate Institute, where our team trains and educate the future generations of martial arts teachers.

oOo

About the Author: Abi Moriya is a professional teacher and researcher whose involvement in the CMA and FMA spans more than three decades. In addition, Abi Moriya is a teacher of Qigong, Shiatsu and TCM, and a senior member of the Martial Arts faculty at the Nat Holman School for Coaches and Instructors, Wingate Institute, Israel.

Published Works:
Lightened Tiger, Darkened Dragon: Chinese Martial Arts; A Cultural View. TLV: Madaf Publication, 2015 (Hebrew).
Krav Maga: Teaching With Doubt! Co-author with Dr. Guy Mor. TLV: Self publication, 2015 (English).

oOo

Notes

1) Williams, C.A.S. Chinese Symbolism and Art Motifs: A Comprehensive Handbook on Symbolism in Chinese Art through the Ages. NY: Dover |Publications, 1976.

2) Zhou Weiliang. “Ming-Qing shiqi Shaolin wushu de lishi liubian” (The historical evolution of the Shaolin martial arts during the Ming-Qing period). In Shaolin gongfu wenji (q.v.)
Zhou Weiliang. Zhongguo wushu shi中国武术史 (History of Chinese Martial Arts). Beijing: Gaodeng jiaoyu Chubanshe, 2003.

3) Shahar, Meir. The Shaolin Monastery: History, Religion, and the Chinese Martial Arts. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2008.

4) Henning, Stanley E. “Professor Zhou weiliang: Leaving No Stone Unturned. In China’s New Wave of Martial Studies Scholars”. Journal of Asian Martial Arts, Vol. 15 No. 2, 2006, pp.15-18.

Painting of a man yielding two long iron whips on pith paper. Canton, mid 19th century. Source: Digital Collections of the New York Public Library.

Introduction

History is difficult. It goes beyond gaining access to appropriate sources, records and languages. The challenges that we face are often more basic and conceptual. At the present moment there is a lot of interest, both in popular and scholarly discussions, in finding the “real origins” of various Asian martial arts.

Perhaps this should not be a surprise. A number of these fighting systems have strongly linked their credibility as hand combat practices to very specific genealogies or fantastic creation myths. And as scholars attempt to establish martial arts studies, a different “quest for origins” is emerging, one that will allow us to understand the contributions that these systems have made to the maintenance of a wide range of identities and social institutions.

Whether our conversation is popular or academic in tone, one specific problem always seems to emerge. The ways in which we want to speak about “origins” are concrete, singular, linear and logical. And yet most events of sufficient complexity to be of any interest to social scientists do not actually emerge this way. A gap exists between the language that is used (both spoken and conceptual) and ways in which complex systems actually generate social outcomes.

Consider the following exercise. Think about an event of real significance in your life; the start of a relationship, getting your first professional job or even purchasing your first car. If I were to ask you about this event three different times, in three different settings, I am fairly certain I would get three different versions of the story. Simply consider all of the various ways in which you have already described your profession, your faith or dislikes in the past. Does this mean that the first two times you told me the story about your job that you were lying? Or worse yet, that people are infinitely changeable and there is no discernible logic of causality at work in our lives?

I do not think so. Rather, because our lives are the product of multiple complex systems (psychological, cultural, economic, political….etc) most of the decisions that we come to are “overdetermined.” Or to put it slightly differently, there are many sorts of constraints that help to explain our actions, and they are no less real for the fact that we often perceive their workings dimly if at all.

I suspect that individuals tell the same story differently because as their setting changes other factors are moved to the forefront of their thought. They become more conscious of new parts of the puzzle. So it seems appropriate to tell the story that way in a given setting. This is why to really know our teachers, friends and parents we listen to their stories not once, but many times. Why should it be any different with the martial arts?

The same basic problem emerges when we debate the first instance of any behavior. Who was the first person to teach Chinese martial arts in America? Who wrote the first book of Taijiquan? Who was the first individual to challenge the way in which the modern world perceived China? These are all questions that have been discussed at length. And as we listen to the ensuing debates one cannot help but think that often these discussions talk past one another. Yet given the complex nature of causality, how could it be otherwise?

While it is probably impossible to fully account for the complexities of causality within an empirical case study or historical discussion, there are somethings that we can do to alleviate the problem while at the same time producing a richer picture of the social environment which created the outcome that we are interested in. The key is to remember to tell our story more than once, and to do so in systematic and rigorous ways.

Image of a man holding a “horse knife.” Guangzhou, mid 19th century. Source: Digital Collections of the New York Public Library.

LaRochelle and the Four Types of Origin Stories

Recently I had an opportunity to read a paper by Dominic LaRochelle (Laval University) titled “The Daoist Origins of Chinese Martial Arts in Taiji quan Manuals Published in the West.” Building on the prior writing of Douglas Wiles (who looked at late Qing and Republic era Taiji quan manuals in China) this paper argued that the authors of English language Taiji publications closely followed older Chinese literary models in advancing the view that the art of Taiji was a fundamentally spiritual and Daoist undertaking. La Rochelle noted that this discourse was in active opposition to a more historically rigorous line of argument (originally championed by Tang Hao) that tends to see Taiji as the result of military, social and political causes clustered around Chen village in Henan. Further, the actual content of this “Daoism” in practice tends to much more closely resemble contemporary western spirituality than traditional Chinese religion.

In building his case LaRochelle reviews a number of Taiji publications produced in the West, and examines the rhetorical strategies that each adopts in positioning Taiji as a uniquely Daoist practice. While the common critique of such material is that it is profoundly simplistic and unoriginal, with each work simply republishing what had come before, things became more complicated as each account of Taiji’s origins are subjected to a close reading. Rochelle found that while each work ultimately came to the same predetermined conclusion, their actual understanding of what it meant to say that Taiji was a Daoist art varied quite a bit. This, in turn, effected how various authors described the origins of the system.

To simplify, LaRochelle found that one could identify four different types of (non-exclusive) creation narratives for Taijiquan. Depending on the type of argument that authors wished to make they tended to explain the creation of the art in terms of its technical, philosophical, mythological or historical origins.

For instance, a technical argument about the Daoist nature of Taiji might focus on the similarities between ancient Daoyin gymnastic practices and a modern short form. Philosophical discussions find deep resonances between elements of practice and classical literary texts including the Yijing or the Dao De Jing. Mythological accounts often trace their roots back to Mt. Wudang, and include stories such as the famous account of the crane and snake or the involvement of immortal saints. Finally historical accounts of the origins of the art often take the form of lineage discussions in which complex chains are created connecting sometimes dubious ancient ancestors to modern practitioners in a single flow of martial legitimacy. Because these different modes of argumentation are not necessarily exclusive some texts managed to weave more than one strain into their accounts of Taiji’s origins.

LaRochelle’s article focused primarily on the ways in which Taijiquan emerged as a Daoist practice in the West, and at some point I would like to return to this basic thesis. Yet what really struck me as I reviewed this piece was his four part typology of “origin” stories. Indeed, the Chinese martial arts are rife with such accounts, and I am always keeping an eye open for a better way to classify and sort these creation myths. The four part system that he proposes is nice because it is fairly comprehensive yet not overly complicated.

I also think that we can expand this approach in some easy ways to make it even more useful. For instance, discussions of the creation of many arts other than Taijiquan might benefit from just such a device. “Historical” discussions of Wing Chun tend to give pride of place to lineage genealogies spreading out in both directions from Leung Jan. “Mythological” approaches draw freely on southern China’s rich folklore concerning the burning of the Shaolin Temple. Ip Man’s own account of the system combines both of these aspects.

More “technical” discussions tend to find parallels with the arts of Fujian province or to look back to the region’s long history in training local militia forces in the use of Long Poles and Hudiedao. Stanley Henning has sought to go further, connecting the technical genesis of both White Crane and Wing Chun to specific postures preserved in the woodblock prints that illustrated General Gi Jiguang’s Fist Classic.

If we were to apply the same degree of scholarly rigor to the philosophical origins of the art we would likely be forced to look at a number of the “Cotton Boxing” manuscript textual traditions that circulated in the Pearl River delta region during the late 19th century. Or, as I recently touched on in my recent study, we would need to seriously consider how the ethos of Southern China’s rapidly evolving economic markets provided a social space in which local martial arts traditions could grow and evolve in a purely civil context. In contrast the popular philosophical discourse often seen within the Wing Chun community focuses on both Chan and Daoist parallels.

All of this complicates how we look at competing hypotheses. Can we simply dismiss out of hand any discussion of the burning of the southern Shaolin Temple as objectively “untrue?” Is Henning’s theory linking the ultimate origins of Wing Chun (and a number of other arts including Taiji) to the popular dissemination of the Fist Classic correct by virtue of the fact that it references the oldest existing document that seems to show technical movements similar to modern Wing Chun (and a number of other arts) in a coherent form? I think that the framework advanced by LaRochelle would urge caution.

This should not be taken as an embrace of absolute relativism on his part or my own. While I believe that responsible historians have to be modest in making affirmative claims about the past I absolutely accept that we can use empirical evidence to test and discard less effective theories. Yet what exactly are these things supposed to be theories of?

The real value in adopting a conceptually complex understanding of the problem of origins is that it forces us to move beyond simple debates and to think more carefully about how we construct our theories in the first place. When we discuss the origins of Wing Chun, Taijiquan or Karate, what are we actually trying to understand? Are we really looking to challenge what we know, or are we instead interested only in gathering evidence to support a predetermined ethnonationalist, spiritual or modernist agenda? And if we are asking fruitful questions, what specifically do we want to know?

Jon Nielson, my co-author and a scholar in his own right, is also a full time professional Wing Chun instructor. He is deeply engaged in studying, understanding and deconstructing his style’s basic forms. Thus when he searches for the “origins” of Wing Chun he is very much interested in the sorts of technical history that Henning is talking about. If he can understand the ultimate origin of the Six and a Half-Point Pole form, he may acquire additional information about what its movements originally implied in a military context and how they might better be performed. Interestingly he has less interest in whether anyone practicing this proto-art would have called it Wing Chun (or anything else).

I think that these questions are fascinating. And when I am in the training hall I am deeply engaged with them. But I have a day job as a social scientist. I study the Chinese martial arts academically to better understand how civil society works, the ways in which new identities form and how communities react to stress and violence. These are questions of vital interest in understanding not just the past, but our present environment.

From my perspective, knowing when and why a group of martial artists took up a new name and formed a new social organization is of critical importance. What social institutions facilitated this transformation? What threats did they perceive in the local environment? What larger myth complexes inspired them? How this process unrolled between the 1850s and the 1890s is actually relevant to theoretical discussions in a number of fields. But how the Six and a Half-Point Pole form evolved over the same 30 year stretch probably is not. So which of these approaches to the arts origin is “true?”

This is a question that simply does not make much sense. Again, this is not a call for post-modern relativism. Some historical theories may be much better than others and they should be treated as such. Yet it is a helpful reminder that the martial arts which we have today are, like most complex phenomenon, massively overdetermined. They exist at the confluence of rich streams in economic, political, military, cultural and social history. Rather than arguing which of these sources in the most important in some universal sense, we should instead ask ourselves what exactly we are proposing a theory of, and what source of data would best test the specific hypothesis that derive from this theory. I don’t think that this step alone would resolve all of the big debates in Chinese martial studies, but it would help to make those discussions more productive and focused.

A man with a sword (dao) and shield. Guangzhou, mid 19th century. Source: Digital Collections of the New York Public Library.

Conclusion: Martial Arts Studies as an Interdisciplinary Project

 
Occasionally our goals are grander. Rather than attempting to understand a single aspect of an art (or place) we set aside the resources to advance a more comprehensive study. Rather than following only a single chain of causality back through time we strive to understand the nature of the territory that structured and gave rise to a martial art. Douglas Wile has attempted such a project with his investigations of Taijiquan. Meir Shahar has done much to advance our understanding of the Shaolin tradition in late imperial China. And I have attempted to illuminate the world of the Republic era southern Chinese martial arts.

One of the things that all three of these projects have in common is their complexity. If you sit down and begin to map out the causal mechanisms discussed in each of these books you will quickly come across a lot of moving parts. That, I think, is why LaRochelle’s relatively simple typology really grabbed my attention. I spent quite a bit of time attempting to explain to my readers why an interdisciplinary approach to the martial arts was necessary. Yet if you expand his model from the realm of the purely empirical to the theoretical, it gets to the same place in an intuitively appealing way.

Interdisciplinary work is not necessarily easy, and it is a concept that poses its own challenges. In my personal opinion the very best such work is produced cooperatively by multiple scholars with a deep appreciation of both the tools and limits of their own fields. I am always the most excited about work that creates new communities of researchers united in the pursuit of questions that had previously eluded any one discipline.

Also critical are research projects that probe the limits of a field and its key theories or methods. These are often not well understood. When we challenge the boundaries of the various disciplines we expose their fundamentally artificial nature. Paul Bowman’s recent monograph on martial arts studies does exactly this, demonstrating that the study of these fighting systems might help us to reconfigure the ways in which we attempt to understand our world in fundamental ways.

Still, both of these approaches to interdisciplinary research are challenging. The first requires the resources necessary to sustain not just an individual research project, but an entire team of scholars. In practice that means winning a substantial grant. The second presupposes a deep background (and interest in) a variety of theoretical literatures. Still, they do not exhaust the list possible approaches to interdisciplinary research and writing.

Those working on more empirically focused projects, or who need to produce rich, yet still theoretically tractable case-studies, would do well to consider this four part outline. Anyone investigating the origins of a martial arts style, group or practice is likely to encounter a variety of creation myths. Sorting these into the technical, philosophical, mythological and historical categories proposed by LaRochelle is a great way to begin to get your hands around the discourses that exist within a given community.

When it comes time to more rigorously discus the group’s actual origins, these same four categories can provide critical balance. The technical origins of an art may focus on the transmission of its actual movements and pedagogical traditions. The origins of the folklore and myths surrounding an art can say something about its place in popular culture, the groups within society that it appeals to and the social functions that it performs. Historical discussions will likely turn our attention to the lives and contributions of individual practitioners. And philosophical questions can tell us something about the larger cultural constructs that structured their approach to the world.

Adopting each of these approaches will require delving into different literatures and bodies of theory. That is always a complicated and time consuming process. Yet one of the great benefits of embracing an interdisciplinary approach to the question of “origins” is to move us away from overly simplistic or “silver bullet” models of causality.

This approach promises another benefit as well. The embrace of a more complex framework naturally redirects our focus from the individual fighting system outwards towards the society and environmental conditions that gave rise to it. This is a critical point. If Martial Arts Studies is to succeed as a research area in the current era, this is where our focus must most often be.

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If you enjoyed this discussion you might also want to read: Bodhidharma: Historical Fiction, Hyper-Real Religion and Shaolin Kung Fu

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“Monkey Boxers” performing in a public market in Shanghai circa 1930. Source: Taiping Institute.

Introduction

Spirit possession is a fascinating but rarely discussed aspect of the traditional Chinese martial arts.  Reformers in the field of physical culture spent much of the 20th century attempting to erase the national embarrassment of the Boxer Uprising in which young martial artists who practiced a type of “spirit boxing” were seen as having jeopardized the physical security and financial health of the state.  Elite opinion turned sharply against all of the traditional martial arts in the wake of this uprising. As subsequent generations of reformers attempted to rehabilitate the public perception of these practices they went to lengths to strip out anything that seemed to be too feudal, parochial or superstitious.  Indeed, the “traditional” arts that most of us practice today are in large part the product of these 20th century “modernization” and “rehabilitation” efforts.  Which is to say, its not entirely a coincidence that we hear so little about spirit possession techniques.  While such practices still exist in some area’s (and may more commonly be seen in temple procession troupes), they have undergone a process of cultural marginalization for much of the last century.

Perhaps this is why spirit boxing always generates such interest when accounts of its various techniques rise to the surface.  The Red Spear movement in Northern China came to prominence during the 1920s and 1930s in large part on the strength of its esoteric magical practices. As a result of this and a few related incidents, most discussions of spirit boxing continues to focus on the lives of relatively impoverished (and physically insecure) northern peasants during the late 19th and early 20th century.

Yet spirit possession techniques were never confined only to a single geographic region.  Their exponents could also be found in parts of Southern China and even Hong Kong.  Daniel Amos has published a fine ethnographic study of a contemporary spirit possession cult titled “Spirit Boxing in Hong Kong: Two Observers, Native and Foreign” along with Ma Kai Sun (Journal of Asian Martial Arts, Vol. 8 No. 4 (1999): 32 pages).  Readers interested in learning more about the subject may wish to start there.  Fortunately this is not the only account of such groups that students have access too.  The following newspaper story offers another view of these practices, as they were practiced in the villages of the New Territories 50 years earlier.

A few words about the source of this account may be in order.  It was originally published in The Hong Kong Daily Press on October 31, 1922.  This paper ran from the 1860s to the early 1940s and was one of the major English language media outlets to serve the city.  Discussions of the traditional Chinese martial arts were not unheard of in the local foreign language press, but they were also not all that common.  In this case the occasion for the story seems to have been an upcoming party at the Government House in the first week of November, which was expected to feature a traditional martial arts performance.

I have yet to track down an account of the event in question, but given the political and social activism of the Jingwu Athletic Association in Southern China during the early years of the 1920s, one rather strongly suspects that they were to be the guest at the government gala.  If this was the case than we can be relatively certain that spirit possession was not on the party agenda as it would have been antithetical to the reformist aims of this group (and most other ones of the period).

In an attempt to edify the reading public a reporter from the paper interviewed a local Chinese authority on the subject of traditional boxing.  Unfortunately the article lists neither the name of the reporter or source.  This seems to be a fairly common editorial practice during the period.  Yet it was the Chinese expert who appears to have steered the interview away from more recent developments in the martial arts, towards the remembrances of his youth.  After a brief historical discussion which situates the Chinese martial arts both in dynastic history and in relation to their better known cousin’s in Japan (Judo and Jujitsu), the discussion settles on local spirit boxing traditions among the village youth of the New Territories.

The account ends abruptly, leading one to suspect that a longer piece was paired down to fit a set number of inches of “column length” (another common editorial practice.)  There are also a few places in which the electronic scans of the article could not be transcribed with confidence.  These have been marked with brackets [ ].  Yet for all of that, this short article contains a number of interesting details pertaining not just to the rituals of a local spirit boxing technique, but also as to how the traditional Chinese martial arts were discussed and understood by social elites in southern China during the Republic period.  The history, social anxiety and even vocabulary in this piece is worthy of further consideration.

A picture of a young militia group. Luckily the hudiedao of the leader have become dislodged in their sheath. We can confirm that these are double blades, and they are of the long, narrow stabbing variety seen in some of the prior photographs. Source http:\\www.swordsantiqueweapons.com.

CHINESE BOXING AND FENCING.

HISTORY OF THE ART

 

In view of the fact that the Garden Fete at Government House on November 4th is to include an exhibition of Chinese Boxing and Fencing, many of our readers will probably be interested to know something of this art as practiced in ancient and modern times. The following account has been supplied by a local Chinese scholar of no mean repute:-

The art of Kei Kik, includes dexterity in wielding sword, spear and knife as well as skill in the use of fists and feet. This peculiarly Chinese form of what we may call Chinese boxing and fencing has a history dating back to the period of the “Waring States,” some three centuries before the Christian Era. It was developed in the succeeding dynasties of Ts’un and Hon. A certain Ts’ai Man is commemorated in the history of the Hon Dynasty as being a famous exponent of the art, and the men of the Ts’ai State are said to have greatly esteemed such skill. In the province of Ho Nan is an ancient temple called Shin [Lam Tsz ?] whose priests and acolytes in days gone by were continually engaged in exercises of this nature. Thirteen of them won fame as “boxers and fencers” when they helped the Emperor T’ai Tsang of the T’ang dynasty to subdue the rebellious Wong Shai-ch’ang in the early part of the 7th Century, and established a traditional “School” of the art known as the “Shin Lam P’ai.”

It is clear that in those days a real military value was attached to skill in Kei Kik, but later with the development of firearms, the art became neglected as a practical field of martial endeavor. Transplanted to Japan, however, it doubtless became the historical parent of Judo or Jujutsu.

But although the Chinese expert may have lost his military importance, the practice of the art has persisted, partly, perhaps as a form of self-culture and partly as a pastime for boys and men. In very recent Republican days indeed there are not warning signs that the practice has been deliberately recognized as tending to stimulate a militaristic spirit, but this is not the place to touch on certain modern aspects of Chinese social life.

The writer has pleasant recollections of many a spirited exhibition of “boxing” given by village boys in the New Territories. In certain villages there between the 10th day of the 7th moon and the 9th day of the moon, performances of “Stupefying the Toad” take place. Three or four boys lie face downward on the ground while others sit round them and chant the refrain:-

Little Toads and King Toads.
Hifflody Piggledy.
Into the Lotus-Pond
In they go.
Break the branches, break the reed,
There come the Toads? I don’t know.
Jumping on the toad-throne to [] their books.

What the meaning of this nursery rhyme is the writer cannot say, but the chant invokes the spirits of ancient fighting men, ancient masters of boxing and fencing, and it must be kept up till the boys lying face downwards become, as if they were mesmerized. Their “heart goes,” and passes beneath the earth by way of the Fairy Bridge. When the heart has gone, the invoked spirit enters, the symptom being a coldness of the feet and a violent trembling of the body. The master of the ceremonies thereupon cries out “Master, up and perform!” If he did not call this out, no medium would ever get up. He must on no account utter the boys’ real names, as this would at once restore them to consciousness. The assumption throughout is that each medium becomes “mung” or stupefied, and that all his actions when in this state are involuntary, dictated by the spirit of the dead master. Jumping up, then, they proceed to box with fists and feet. After a minute of this they are told to sit, and then they may smoke but on no account drink tea. Then, still sitting, they sing a song, some ancient song that their dead masters used to sing, and then they perform a kind of sword-stick exercise with long thin bamboo poles. On one occasion one boy accidentally banged another on the head, and the instant reproach sounded extremely like an everyday exclamation of a Yung Tsai of the Old Market, and not at all like the grave utterance of an ancient boxing-master.

Finally, their real names are cried in a loud voice, and the mesmerized boys awake. The role of medium is said to be very exhausting and only possible for those with [yin ?]; eyes expressive of the female principle or passivity.

Detail of postcard showing traditional practitioners performing in a marketplace. Japanese postcard circa 1920.

Further Notes on Toads and Martial Spirit Possession Games

Students of Chinese folklore may already be familiar with some variant of this activity, often associated with boys and the Moon festival in Guangdong province.  Compare the above account to the much earlier one published in the 1887 edition of the China Review (Volume 15) on page 123:

Mai Sin Mesmerizing

From the 1st to the 20th of the eight month the Chinese in the Kwong-tung province have a custom of putting lads into a mesmeric or clairvoyant state in which they perform feats of skill with swords, spears, iron bars, and shields in mimic fight, while supposed to be possessed by the spirits of long-deceased famous fencing masters.

On these occasions sever big lads lie on the ground in a row, either in-doors or out, and men wave lighted incense sticks over them, while they repeatedly chant the following incantation accompanied by the beating of gongs.

“Ye little toads* and king toads,
Descend, ye proud, to cool abodes!
Arrive at our cool rooms we bow,
Change hands and enter cool rooms!”

As the lads become or pretend to become possessed, they rise and are assisted to seats, where they are asked then, the sze fu’s lottery surnames and honoured names, whence they come, how many there are, if they will please take a drink of tea. They give the names of renowned performers of the past and say they come from Canton, or some distant place. When they are as many in a state of clairvoyance as each says had left, they are put to perform with swords, etc., to the amusement and wonder of the numerous on-lookers, who all seem to believe the lads are really the mediums of supernatural agents, or else, they say, they could not perform as they do, as they have never been taught.

*In Chinese legends the toad k’am eh’ii or shim ch’ii is reckoned one of the animals that inhabit the moon; as this performance takes place during the time of the bright mid-autumn moon it is only natural it should be appealed to for assistance at the ceremony.

It is interesting to read these two reports side by side.  While some details of the incantations have changed, and others have been totally flipped, its clear that this same basic game enjoyed quite a bit of popularity in southern China.  I thought that the later account’s explanation of the importance of toad imagery in spirit possession exercises was particularly helpful.  Yet this game did not always take on a martial character.

The anthropologist and folklorist Chao Wei-pang also recorded this game as one of many played at mid-autumn festival in Guangdong (see “Games at the Mid-Autumn Festival in Kunagtung”) while doing research in the 1920s.  In reading through the paper its remarkable to note how many of these popular games involve magic and spirit possession.  Apparently this festival was thought to be an especially auspicious time for such activities.  And a number of the exercises that men might take part in could lead to episodes of Spirit Boxing.  Yet the variant of the spirit possession ritual via toad that Chao presents, while still viscerally physical in nature, is not seen as directly martial (pages 10-11):

14. Encircling a Toad

This game is played in a similar way as the above in Ch’ao-chou but only by boys.  When the boy standing in the center is unconscious, he tries to find a cave and creep into it.  In Canton this came is called Mu Ch’in-ch’u or ‘Bewitching a Toad.”  It is played there is a different way. A boy is Chosen to be the Toad King.  He lies prostate on the ground; while others hold sticks of incense and repeat the following spell:

“Toad’s eff, toad’s child.

This evening the Great King comes to invite you.

He buys a fire basket and fir Branches.”

Having been bewitched, the boy jumps about like a real toad.  He Sometimes even injures his head butting accidentally against a wall.  He is stopped by sprinkling water on his head.

Once again, we appear to be seeing another variant of the same basic activity.  Yet in this case the spirit of the toad no longer assists one in channeling a great boxer of ages past, but rather it imparts its own unique physical abilities onto its medium.  This is especially interesting as Chao next mentions a basically identical game in which monkeys are instead invoked.  Needless to say, pictographic monkey styles of boxing have always been very popular throughout the recorded history of the Chinese martial arts.

Conclusion

These account, while far from exhaustive, do help to remind us of a few vital facts.  First, spirit boxing has a long and well established history in Southern China, just as it does in the North.  While most martial arts organizations attempted to move away from these practices in the Republic period they remained popular in the countryside because they were deeply embedded in fabric of local popular culture.  Lastly, these practices were widespread enough that they continued to influence the way that many individuals described the traditional martial arts even after the rise of later reform movements (such as the Jingwu Association).

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If you enjoyed this post you might also want to read: Acquiring “Dark Powers” in the Southern Mantis Tradition: D. S. Farrer Examines the role of animals in the Chinese martial arts.

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Chin Woo crouching tiger quarterstaff stance, Singapore, 2007

Introduction
It is my distinct pleasure to introduce the first entry in a new series of guest posts titled “Doing Research.”  Compared to other fields of scholarly inquiry, Martial Arts Studies has a distinctly democratic flavor.  This stems from a number of sources.  Mostly obviously, the martial arts are widely practiced in both the East and West in the current era.  Many individuals were introduced to these systems while students at a college or university and are interested in seeing a more intellectually rigorous (or even academic) treatment of this phenomenon.  And certain practitioners want to go beyond reading studies produced by other writers and undertake research based on their own time in the training hall.   The emphasis on ethnographic description, oral and local history, as well as the methodological focus on community based collaborative research within Martial Arts Studies (itself a radically interdisciplinary area), makes participation in such efforts both relatively accessible and highly valuable.

There is also another class of reader who might find themselves embarking on their first ethnographic research project.  With the growing popularity of this field of study we are increasingly seeing classes in Martial Arts Studies offered at the undergraduate and graduate level.  Some of these courses include a “research component” in which students are encouraged to go out and join a class or school in the local martial arts community and then to reflect on their experience.

What ever their source, a new generation of novice researchers is likely looking at the challenges that lay ahead and asking themselves, what comes next?  To help smooth these first forays into the world of ethnography, a number of researchers (most of whom have taught these sorts of classes in the past or have conducted field research) have agreed to contribute to a series of short posts on this topic.  Each of these will attempt to pass on a single piece of advice, insight, research strategy or concept that the author wishes that they might have had when first setting out to begin their fieldwork.  Most of these posts will be released in the first few months of 2016, but after some discussion it was decided to launch this series over the holiday break.

D. S. Farrer has generously offered to open this series with a post titled “Fieldwork Methods in Martial Arts Studies.”  Farrer is an anthropologist and longtime student of the martial arts.  He has studied a number of systems and his contributions to Martial Arts Studies have been discussed on this blog both here and here.  For an added sense of depth readers are strongly encouraged to take a look at Farrer’s recent article in the Fall 2015 issue of Martial Arts Studies in which he further expands upon his anthropological approach to researching the traditional Asian fighting systems.

His essay below serves as an introduction to the upcoming series and advances a few of the considerations that novice researchers will need to take into account as they begin to plan their field work.  The list of references at the end of this post is well worth the price of admission and will be especially valuable for anyone wondering about the current state of the discussion or wanting more guidance in planning their own project.  We hope that this occasional series will give students of all backgrounds something to consider as they tackle the unique challenges inherent in doing field research on the martial arts and combat sports.

Fieldwork Methods in Martial Arts Studies

Since 2001 I have researched martial arts in Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Guam, Yap, China and Hong Kong (Farrer 2015). At the outset of my career, the indomitable prison anthropologist, Ellis Finkelstein (1993), said: “You don’t become an anthropologist by reading books, someone has to take you under their wing and show you the ropes.” To set up my research project on silat, we reviewed the essentials of anthropological research methods or ‘ethnographic fieldwork,’ including hypothesis (question) formation, the literature review, participant observation, language acquisition, gaining access, sampling, key informants, covert and overt approaches, subjectivity and objectivity, reflexivity, theory and practice, reliability and validity, induction and deduction, emic and etic concepts, informed consent, writing fieldnotes, description and explanation, triangulation, depth interviews, dangers, ethical concerns and publication (Farrer 2009). To cover ethnographic fieldwork requirements is a tall order for a short blog, so the novice researcher should seek a guide, just as they would seek out an expert to learn a martial art. That said, much of what Dr. Finkelstein relayed may be found in Michael Agar’s (1996) The Professional Stranger (see also Robben and Sluka 2006). Below I address the essential attributes of fieldwork methods, and the “who, what, why, when, where, and how” of participant observation.

Great insights may be gleaned from observing different cultural ways to solve common human problems. Therefore anthropologists recommended extended periods abroad learning about the ‘other’ to better understand the ‘self’ and their own societies (Agar 1996; Pelto 1970). Classical fieldworkers ideally spent eighteen months fully ‘immersed,’ learning the language and the rules associated with another culture and environment (Malinowski 1948). Nowadays, while the emphasis remains on “being there” anthropological fieldwork may involve travel to multiple locations, be of short or long duration, and be conducted at home and online (Davis and Konner 2011). The supposed distance between self and other, ‘us’ and ‘them,’ similarities and differences, may be regarded as an ‘ontological’ device, to contrast the lifeways, worldview, existence (‘being’) of self and other, where social anthropology is the study of social relations (how people relate to one another and their environment). ‘Epistemology,’ how to know, via experience, exposure, then, is intimately tied to ontology. Ontological assumptions concerning the subject, for example, whether societies are fundamentally moulded by economic structures or religious actions, condition epistemology—how to know—with scientific, positivist/realist/Marxist or phenomenological/interpretivist theoretical perspectives. Predominantly a sociological concern, ‘methodology’ is the study of methods; whereas ‘research methods’ are the actual tools employed— mostly, for anthropology this means ‘participant observation’ and ‘depth interviews.’ Training in methodology affects the ultimate selection of research method, using, for example, an experiment to test a hypothesis and/or depth interviews to generate a narrative account.

‘Performance ethnography’ is where the researcher joins in and learns a martial art from the ground up as a basis for writing and research (Farrer 2015; Zarrilli 1998). Similarly, Wacquant’s (2004) ‘carnal sociology’ of boxing is based in participant observation (and the occasional beating). Martial arts fieldwork may involve a higher degree of participation as compared to observation in regular anthropology. The ratio of participation to observation is something the fieldworker needs to periodically address. Too much participation may obscure observation making it difficult to write detailed in situ notes and record verbatim conversation. Observation without participation may leave the fieldworker with scant appreciation for what is really going on. Basically the researcher joins in with day-to-day activity and keeps an on-going written record or ‘fieldnotes.’ Notes may run into hundreds of pages. Good notes are written in first person, recording local concepts, using the active voice to “show” rather than “tell” (Emerson et al: 1995). Some ethnographers record as much data as possible in exacting detail to provide a snapshot of a culture at a particular time; others employ fieldnotes as an inspirational source of material from which to write. While ‘ethnography’ and ‘anthropological methods’ are often used interchangeably, more precisely ‘ethnography’ is descriptive recording, whereas anthropology engages social activity to formulate social theory (Ingold 2014). Ethnography seeks to describe (who, what, when, where). Social anthropology ventures to describe and explain, where explanation asks ‘how’ and/or ‘why,’ to relate the individual to the society, the particular to the general (induction) and/or the general to the particular (deduction). Explanation links theory to practice, testing a hypothesis, or tracing out lines of interconnections (multiplicities).

Participant observation provides a ‘primary’ source of data, where the information gathered is collected first-hand by the researcher, supplemented by ‘secondary sources,’ such as knowledge gained from existing literature. Participant observation has been considered too ‘subjective’ for the purposes of ‘objective’ or ‘positivist’ data collection in the social sciences, where ‘subjective’ choices, values, and preferences supposedly tarnished research findings, to ‘confound variables,’ obscure relations of cause and effect, and conjure up spurious correlations (Pelto 1970). The problem of objectivity and subjectivity in fieldwork was broached by notion of ‘reflexivity,’ where the researcher recognises, takes into account, and incorporates changes in the interlocutors and researcher as part of the research design (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992).

Primary data helps to ensure ‘validity’ (what is supposed to be measured is actually being measured), if not always ‘reliability’ (where another researcher may repeat the same measurement), because non-digital ethnographic studies were by nature bound in time and space to the presence of the researcher with the ‘informants.’ Nowadays ‘informants’ are called ‘interlocutors’ or ‘correspondents,’ but should never be referred to as ‘respondents’ (a term reserved for those ticking boxes on surveys). Gaining access to key informants and a (martial arts) group may be achieved by serendipity, introduction, or through a literature review followed by a formal request. A ‘key informant’ may provide an endless stream of valuable information (Whyte [1943] 1993); alternatively they may act as disruptive gatekeepers barring access to vital information (Metcalf 2002). Crosschecking findings with multiple informants is important to ensure reliability and validity (Babbie 2016). ‘Triangulation’ is further achieved by applying other methods such as depth interviews, extended conversations with occasional open-ended rather than closed-ended (yes/no) questions.

An adequate if not ‘representative sample’ may be collected through ‘snowball sampling,’ where one informant introduces another and so on. However, it may be difficult, dangerous, and even unethical to study two groups simultaneously, to test a hypothesis in a ‘field experiment,’ where one is the ‘control group’ and the other the ‘experimental group’ (Festinger et al 1964). ‘Field experiments’ occur in social psychology: anthropology may regard such procedures as simply generating other forms of narrative (Clifford and Marcus 1986). Nevertheless, comparisons are possible via a series of case studies either carried out longitudinally (over extended periods of time) or simultaneously by multiple teams of researchers. Distancing themselves from a colonial past, some anthropologists advocate ‘community based’ ‘collaborative research,’ where the community helps to investigate itself, and maintains control over the research outcomes (Barbash and Taylor 1997). Community participation is achieved by asking interlocutors to advise at every stage of the research process, from the formulation of the project right down to reading the final draft of the report to check for inaccuracies and produce a rounded, detailed, sincere account. Large-scale community participation is achievable given widespread contemporary access to digital and visual technologies in social media environments, spurring the development of visual anthropology and digital ethnography (Pink et al 2015).

Community based collaborative research, Ah Kin and Ah Feng, Hong Kong, 2012.

To some extent anthropologists differentiate internal, ‘emic’ attributions, concepts employed by the informants, from external, ‘etic’ theoretical concepts and constructs developed outside the field site (Pelto 1970). Dividing emic from etic may not be realistic where the researcher is ‘interviewing up,’ researching high social status people with advanced degrees, or conducting ‘dialogical’ research in an on-going conversation, where the anthropologist shares knowledge and expertise concerning problems at hand (Fabian 2014).

Signed permission slips should be obtained from informants prior to carrying out research, where a brief explanation or ‘cover story’ is provided to attain ‘informed consent.’ Informed consent and community participation necessitates an open, ‘overt’ approach to the research, rather than a ‘covert’ or secret investigation, to avoid ethical dilemmas and gain richer data (Alfred 1976). Publishers often require informed consent forms prior to publication, covering participant observation and interviews, and may insist on the consent of those filmed or photographed (unless the film or photograph is ‘public domain’), the photographer/filmmaker, and the owner of the photograph/footage. Names presented in ‘research outcomes’ (articles, chapters, books, blogs) may be their actual names, or pseudonyms, depending on the sensitivity of the data, whether obscuring the names is realistic, and taking into account the wishes of the interlocutors.

As a general ethical precept the researcher must “do no harm,” and protect the interlocutor’s identity and right to privacy, because the publication and dissemination of the research may result in negative unanticipated consequences. Correspondingly, the martial arts researcher may be a “vulnerable observer” subjected to routine violence as part of their fieldwork (Behar 2014). Martial arts are commonly entangled with shamanic, mystical, and magical practices that may involve murderous assault sorcery (Farrer 2014; Whitehead and Finnström 2013). Historically many anthropologists were thrown into the deep end to conduct fieldwork, but given the expense and time-consuming nature of this enterprise decent preparation is essential.

Pilot research on Yap, Micronesia, 2013.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Dr. Douglas Farrer is Head of Anthropology at the University of Guam. His research interests include martial arts, the anthropology of performance, visual anthropology, the anthropology of the ocean, digital anthropology, and the sociology of religion. On Guam he is researching Brazilian jiu-jitsu.

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Davis, Sarah H. and Melvin Konner, eds. 2011. Being There: Learning to Live Cross-Culturally. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press.

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Farrer, D. S. 2009. Shadows of the Prophet: Martial Arts & Sufi Mysticism. Muslims in Global Societies Series. Dordrecht: Springer.

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Pink, Sarah, Heather Horst, John Postill, Larissa Hjorth, Tania Lewis, and Jo Tacchi. 2015. Digital Ethnography: Principles and Practice. Los Angeles: Sage.

Robben, Antonius C. G. M. and Jeffrey A. Sluka eds. 2006. Ethnographic Fieldwork: An Anthropological Reader. Malden, MA: Blackwell.

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Whitehead, Neil L. and Sverker Finnström. 2013. Virtual War and Magical Death: Technologies and Imaginaries for Terror and Killing. Durham: Duke University Press.

Whyte, William Foote. [1943] 1993. Street Corner Society: The Social Structure of an Italian Slum. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Zarrilli, Phillip B. 1998. When the Body Becomes All Eyes: Paradigms, Discourses and Practices of Power in Kalarippayattu, a South Indian Martial Art. Delhi: Oxford University Press.

Chinese Officer and Soldier with Ring Hilted Sabers

Today’s post is an early Christmas gift.  When I first decided that it would be wise (for research purposes) to collect and catalog images of period martial artists, I was faced with a couple of dilemmas.  Perhaps the most pressing was to determine what constituted a photo of a “martial artist.”  The realm of hand combat instruction in China was filled with all sorts of figures, from opera singers to private security guards and even bandits, who depended on the martial arts to make a living.  Yet they do not all fit into a modern understanding of “proper” kung fu students and schools.

Soldiers also fall into this category.  For many individuals the martial arts were a very practical educational choice to prepare for a career in the military.  So under what circumstances is a photo of a late 19th century soldier also a potentially important image of a martial artist?

My answer to this question has shifted over the years.  At the moment I have decided that a soldier is also a martial artist if he is acting as such (for instance, practicing archery) or displaying either objects of values associated with Chinese martial culture (e.g., one occasionally finds photos of soldiers participating in lion or dragon dancing at festivals).  I will be the first to admit that this is more of a rule of thumb than a comprehensive typology for classifying images.  Unfortunately I had yet to work even this out when I first began collecting period postcards and photographs.

You can see a scan of one of the very first postcards that I puzzled over at the top of this article.  For reasons that I have not entirely worked out, some of the best photos of early Chinese martial artists appear on Russian postcards.  Soldier and martial artists were also plentiful in the British, American, Japanese, German and French spheres of influence.  And over the course of this series we have seen interesting images emerge from all of these geographic areas.  But for some reason, whether it was local culture or consumer demand back in Europe, martial images seem to have made up a larger percentage of the Russian catalog.

The image at the top, which probably dates to the very end of the 19th century or the early 20th, shows a Chinese military officer flanked with four soldier who appear to be armed as his personal guard (recall that regular troops in China in the early 20th century generally carried rifles). When I first saw this postcard I was fascinated by the image.  Not being able to read Russian I am not exactly sure where the photo was taken, but one can clearly see the crenelations of a fortress or city wall behind them.  These were quite common in northern and central China at the end of the Qing dynasty.  Even more interesting are the long, ring hilted, sabres carried by each of the soldiers.  The central officer is armed with what appears to be a European style blade.

Unfortunately I decided that these particular soldier were not a “priority” and I passed on the image.  I immediately regretted that decision and spent the next three years looking for another copy of this postcard.  Earlier this month two examples hit the market at exactly the same time.  Luckily I managed to snag one and am now sharing my good fortune with you.

One might assume that such a long search indicates that the image in question was very rare and had little impact on anyone’s perception of Chinese culture or the martial arts.  That is probably not the case.  I suspect that this image was actually quite popular.  Each of the three examples that I have come across in the last few years is slightly different from the others.  This indicates that each of these examples (see below) comes from a different printing of the card.  It must have been commercially successful to warrant this degree of sustained attention.  The scarcity of this image today is probably a better indicator of the incredibly low survival rates for all sorts of ephemera rather than its circulation figures at the time.

Taking a Closer Look at the “Tai Chi Saber”

From a martial arts perspective, the most interesting thing about this image is the swords (or more properly dao) carried by the soldiers.  Pay special attention to the “S” shaped guards, cord wrapped handles (probably over wood scales) and ring pommels seen on each weapon.  Occasionally one sees modern interpretations of this basic blade shape marketed as the “Tai Chi Saber.” The weapon even seems to have achieved a degree of popularity among practitioners of certain forms.  Needless to say this is not an “official” name for these sorts of swords.  Chinese martial artists, in general, seem to have employed the weapons that were at hand rather than commissioning specific designs for their local styles. Instead this was a style of dao that was popular in northern and central China from roughly the middle of the 19th century to the 1930s.  It was carried by a wide range of local militia members, bandit forces, security guards, martial artists and apparently even some more regular soldiers.

One of the reasons why this image has always fascinated me is that I have owned a couple of these swords over the years.  I would have loved to provide detailed photos of one of these blades as it is a pretty close match to the examples in the postcard.  Unfortunately that weapon is currently on loan to my Sifu on the other side of the country.  Instead I found a couple of examples that were posted over at Swords and Antique Weapons for study purposes that may help to shed some light on what these blades are like for anyone who has not had a chance to handle one.

http://www.swordsantiqueweapons.com/s205_full.html

http://www.swordsantiqueweapons.com/s205_full.html

The first of these is the sort of blade that may have been used as a presentation sword or carried by more elite guards whose employer was looking to make an ostentatious statement.  This particular sword is 111 cm long (about 44 inches).  Its blade is decorated with both piercings and fullers, and the spine has been incised with a bamboo pattern.  That last flourish actually seems to have been somewhat common on these swords and can even be seen on my own, much more plebeian, example.

In general these swords are lighter and faster in the hand than you might expect given their length and width.  This is possible as the profile of the blade is rather thin and flat coming to a sharp edge optimized for slicing rather than bashing armored targets.  As you move towards the tip this tendency becomes even more pronounced, much as you might expect with an ox-tailed dao of the same period.  Of course one has to be careful making generalizations about blades of this era as they have often been polished more than once and this can change both their weight and geometry.  If you see one of these swords with a oddly rounded tip and fullers that lack definition or depth, this is an indication that you are dealing with a “tired blade” that has seen too many polishings.  Given the lengths and weight of the handle, it seems that many of these swords could have been used with either one or two hands.

http://www.swordsantiqueweapons.com/s109_full.html

The second example of a blade of this type is more typical of what one might encounter today.  Because these swords appear to have been popular with civilian martial artists and militia members, they show up on the antique market with some frequency.  Unfortunately a lot of these swords are in “relic” or “dug” condition.  Still, it is possible to get a real sense of how they would have handled, and many of them are sturdy enough for forms practice.  Needless to say, all of the normal disclaimers about the proper inspection and careful use of antique weapons apply here.

This more typical sword is about 93 cm in length, 69 of which is blade.  Aside from that, the basic profile of the blade appears to be similar.  It was also a nicely decorated weapon in its day.

Over the years I have seen some discussion of these swords and whether they could be considered true “military” weapons or if they were the exclusive domain of civilian martial artists.  In a sense these sorts of questions are impossible to answer because of the ever shifting boundaries between the “official” military, sanctioned and unsanctioned local militias, bandit groups and warlord armies.  Soldiers and even important commanders moved back and forth across these lines and when they did they took their weapons with them.  Thus what one might encounter at any given garrison in the final years of the Qing dynasty might deviate substantially from the official regulations for the Green Standard Army. Still, the postcards discussed here provide a suggestion that at least some of these swords ended up in military hands.

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If you enjoyed this post you might also want to read:  Through a Lens Darkly (18): Chinese Martial Arts and Early 20th Century Cigarette Cards: Building the Global Image of Kung Fu.

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Introduction

Welcome to “Chinese Martial Arts in the News.”  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 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 a while since our last update so there is a lot to be covered in today’s post.  Let’s get to the news!

Robert Downey Jr. and Eric Oram working on the wooden dummy.

Chinese Martial Arts in the News

As you can tell from this blog’s subtitle, I write about Wing Chun in addition to the history of the Chinese martial arts as a whole.  As such I am always on the lookout for a good Wing Chun story when putting these news updates together.  But needless to say, very few of the leading stories have much to do with my personal style.  The closest we usually get is something about Bruce Lee.  This month, it seems, is the exception to the rule.  Wing Chun was in the news a lot.

Perhaps the mostly widely read story discussing these Chinese martial arts this month actually came out on Christmas Day.  Shortly after Robert Downey Jr. received a pardon for some prior offenses related to his personal struggles with substance abuse a slew of stories emerged about the role of Wing Chun in helping to motivate him to both seek and find sobriety.  As is often the case most of them seem to have been based on the same source material.  I personally liked TMZ’s piece, which included interview material with his Sifu Eric Oram as well as a link to a nice video.

As a side note I should mention that people always ask me about the impact of the recent Ip Man films on popular interest in Wing Chun.  It is true that those projects have given the art some great exposure.  But after Sherlock Holmes came out I was seeing just as many people coming into my Sifu’s school because of Downey as Ip Man.  I think it would be unwise to underestimate the publicity that he, and his story of overcoming serious challenges in his life, has brought the art.  And for at least a few days this was probably the most widely read story dealing with the TCMA in the mainstream press.

Wing chun is the essence of correct and efficient movement, says Nima King at his school in the Central District of HK. Photo: Bruce Yan, SCMP.  Also note the very expensive looking dummy in the background.

This was not the only Wing Chun related story to find its way into the news over the last few weeks.  The South China Morning Post recently ran a feature on Sifu Nima King’s Central District school titled “The Ip Man in all of us: classes teach kung fu for Hong Kong office workers.”  This is a more detailed profile than what you normally get and we even hear a little bit about Nima’s teacher, the late (and highly respected) Chu Shong Tin.  As with any martial art there are different types of emphasis that can be brought to the fore when teaching or discussing Wing Chun.  In this case what might be thought of as lifestyles issues (rather than fitness or self defense) dominate the discussion.  But in that sense this fits nicely with the somewhat similar emphasis that arises out of the Robert Downey Jr. narrative that also seems to have gained traction over the last few years.

Taijiquan practitioners in a park. Source: http://english.cntv.cn

Wing Chun is not the only traditional art to be in the news.  As usual there were a number of stories about the health benefits of Taijiquan.  One of the more interesting of these was run on the English language webpage of CCTV and was titled “Tai Chi Groups Taking Over the Parks.”  This will not come as much of a surprise to anyone who has spent time in a major city in China where martial artists have long staked out their claim to a great deal of real estate in that countries public spaces.  But, as the article notes, we are starting to see the same thing in other areas as well.  The article hints at the “Americanization” of Taijiquan as it moves abroad, but aside from some vague hints at the “Orientalization” of the art in the Western imagination, this aspect of the article is not as extensively developed as one might like.

Representatives of Chinese Sanda fighters participate Wednesday’s news conference. Source: chinadaiy.com.cn

I am not sure that I would personally classify modern competitive Sanda as a “traditional martial art” (honestly, on some days I doubt whether Wing Chun as taught by Ip Man would really qualify) but the good folks over at the China Daily seem to have a degree of clarity on that issue.  They recently ran an announcement that the national Wushu administrative bodies have given the go ahead to create the first competitive professional Sanda league next year.  Named the Wushu Sanda Pro League, this organization will sponsor various types of competitive fights between a relatively small, hand picked, group of high profile fighters.  It seems that the hope is to use some of the institutional mechanics that are driving the various MMA organizations competing for a share of China’s media market to raise the profile of Sanda among China’s viewers.  In fact, I rather suspect that defining Sanda as a “traditional” art in this context is simply to claim it as Chinese and thus create some dynamic tension with the more international MMA movement.  You can read more about this project here.

RIP Yang Jian Bing. Source: SCMP.com

Earlier this month Yang Jian Bing, only 21, died the day of his scheduled ONE Championship 35 fight in Manila.  It was later determined that Yang died of complications of severe dehydration as he attempted to cut weight for the upcoming fight.  This story received a lot of coverage and sparked renewed debate about the dangers of weight cutting in combat sports.  The ONE Championship has since announced a series of changes to their weigh in procedures in an attempt to prevent the use of dangerous practices to achieve drastic short term weight loss in the future.

While on the subject of death in combat sports, be sure to check out this short article in the New Yorker.  It follows the fate of an early research collection on deaths in boxing.  This may not be considered of much interest for many readers, except that these files ended up in the hands of first R. W. Smith, an important writer on the Chinese martial arts in the post-WWII period, and then Joseph Svinth, one of the more frequently cited authors on Martial Arts Studies in our current era.  It even includes some nice interview material with Svinth in which he discusses his research and writing.  Of course Smith, while initially trained as a boxer, turned against the sport as he became aware of its problem with repetitive brain injury.  This then factored into his promotion of the TCMA.  All in all its a fascinating read that includes some of the more important names in the development of Martial Arts Studies.

Bruce Lee inforgraphic. Source: SCMP.

Over the last few months there has been much discussion of Jack Ma’s purchase of the South China Morning Post.  Various media critics (who were already concerned with what they saw as the paper’s softening editorial independence) have worried about what this means for the long term independence of the paper.  While I can’t speak to larger trends in editorial policy, the last month seems to indicate that the paper’s long standing interest in the martial arts of southern China remains fully intact.  The SCMP actually put out more features mentioning the martial arts than I can list here.  As such I have chosen the two that I personally found to be the most interesting.  The first is an “infographic” on the life and career of Bruce Lee.

I do not count myself as an expert on the life of the Little Dragon, though I am called upon to write about him from time to time.  As such I am going to be saving a copy of this timeline as a handy reference to keep on my desktop.

The home of Wing Chun as we like to imagine it. The Cantonese Opera stage on the grounds of Foshan’s Ancestral Temple.  Photo: Author’s Personal Collection.

The other piece that I really enjoyed was a feature titled “How to Spend 48 Hours in Foshan, City of Ceramics and Kung Fu Legends Bruce Lee and Ip Man.”  As the article correctly points out, the sights in Foshan are an easy daytrip for anyone who is going to be in Guangzhou, and this much smaller city has a lot going on, if you know where to look.  Foshan is also the home of some great martial arts history.  But if you decide to go, don’t limit yourself to just Wing Chun.  The city also saw important innovations in Choy Li Fut, Hung Gar, White Eyebrow and even Jingwu!  And if you want to know where to eat or what other cultural sites to hit while you are there, this article will help you out.

A still from the trailer for AMC’s Into the Badlands presented at the 2015 Comicon.

Chinese Martial Arts in the Entertainment Industry

I have been discussing the press coverage surrounding AMC’s new martial arts series Into the Badlands for a few months now.  Just when I thought that there would be nothing new to say, I ran across this Wall Street Journal blog article.  Its interesting precisely because it focuses on what goes into filming the massive “50 vs. 1” fight scenes that are a staple of so many movies, and this series in particular.  It turns out that this sort of choreography presents directors with its own challenges, not least of which is where to find 50 extras who already know Chinese martial arts?  Check it out.

Probably not going to happen anytime soon. Source: http://www.nothinguncut.com

Donnie Yen has been back in the news.  Martial Arts fans are excited to see Ip Man 3, while Star Wars fans want to know more about his upcoming role in that iconic franchise.  You can see Yen discussing these topics, and others, in this interview that he did with the South China Morning Post.  Or if you want to cut right to the can read an early review of Ip Man 3.  It appears that the directors have deliberately moved away from sweeping nationalist themes and “fights to the death” in this last film and have instead decided to provide a much more nuanced exploration of Ip Man as a martial artist and family man.  As someone who just wrote a detailed biography of Ip Man I can vouch for the general lack of “fights to the death” in his martial arts career.  I for one am very interested to see how Yen’s portrayal of Ip Man will evolve in this film.

Michelle Yeoh. Source: http://english.cntv.cn

The Ip Man franchise is not the only one getting an new edition.  There has also been a fair amount of press coverage of the sequel to “Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon.”  You can find one such discussion here.  All of the advance footage of the film that I have seen has been just as beautiful as one might hope.

One image from Ameena Rojee’s project “Hard Work.” http://www.ameenarojee.co.uk/hardwork

News From All Over

Our next item come from a somewhat unusual (if beautifully illustrated) source.  It seems that the British Journal of Photography maintains a blog.  One of their recent features profiled Ameena Rojee’s project “Hard Work.”  This collection of photographs documented life at the School of Shaolin Kung Fu in Qufu, China.  The entire shoot lasted one month and Ameena captured some striking images.  But rather than the lush, highly polished images that we are used to seeing on the tourist material, her work often emphasized the bleak nature of the landscape, the ugliness of the local pollution and construction, and the “smallness” of her subjects against the immense backdrop of the local environment  Its a different take on a subject that a lot of us feel that we are already familiar with, and its worth checking out.

While we often discuss Chinese martial artists, less thought is typically devoted to the physical structures and spaces that organize their activities.  This is an problem as the nature of the space that one works within has a profound impact on the types of training that can occur.  We are all familiar with the images of Chinese martial artists training in public parks, but what are these spaces like, and what is their place in the local community?  The Economist recently decided to tackle this conversation in an article titled “Park life: A day in the life of one of the capital’s few green spaces.”  It mentions martial artists, but the entire article is well worth reading so that we can think a little more deeply about the spaces that these martial artists inhabit.

Martial Arts Studies by Paul Bowman (2015)

Martial Arts Studies

There have been some interesting developments in the interdisciplinary realm of Martial Arts Studies over the last month.  Gene Ching, the Editor of Kung Fu Tai Chi magazine, ran a detailed two part interview with Paul Bowman on Martial Arts Studies on the journal’s webpage.  Its well worth reading and a great example of substantive engagement between the scholarly and practicing community.  Click here for Part 1 and Part 2.  While exploring this intersection between popular and scholarly discussion, be sure to also check out this short essay that Paul wrote on the theoretical implications of how we discuss and think about the now legendary fight between Wong Jack Man and Bruce Lee.

Illustration from Meyer’s Longsword. Source: Bloody Elbow, MMA History Blog.

Daniel Jaquet (a Post Doc Visiting Fellow at the Max Planck Institute for the History of Science, Art and Knowledge) has posted an article on Academia.edu (free to download and read) titled “Historical European Martial Art: A crossroad between academic research, martial heritage re-creation and martial sport practices.”  This is coming out of the German Martial Arts Studies literature that we have touched on a few times here at Kung Fu Tea.  While his article addresses issues in the relationship between historians and practitioners of the traditional European Martial Arts, it seems to me that many of these same issues could also be discussed with regards to Asian traditions.  As such his paper might make an interesting launching point for a comparative discussion.

The abstract is as follows:

Historical European martial arts (HEMA) have to be considered an important part of our common European cultural heritage. Studies within this field of research have the potential to enlighten the puzzle posed by past societies, for example in the field of history, history of science and technology, or fields related to material culture. The military aspects of history are still to be considered among the most popular themes of modern times, generating huge public interest. In the last few decades, serious HEMA study groups have started appearing all over the world – focusing on re-creating a lost martial art. The terminology “Historical European Martial Arts” therefore also refers to modern-day practices of ancient martial arts. Many of these groups focus on a “hands-on” approach, thus bringing practical experience and observation to enlighten their interpretation of the source material. However, most of the time, they do not establish inquiries based on scientific research, nor do they follow methodologies that allow for a critical analysis of the findings or observations. This paper will therefore propose and discuss, ideas on how to bridge the gap between enthusiasts and scholars; since their embodied knowledge, acquired by practice, is of tremendous value for scientific inquiries and scientific experimentation. It will also address HEMA practices in the context of modern day acceptance of experimental (or experiential) processes and their value for research purposes and restoration of an historical praxis. The goal is therefore to sketch relevant methodological and theoretical elements, suitable for a multidisciplinary approach, to HEMA, where the “H” for “historical” matters.

It is the season for book awards, and I noticed that at least one of the titles that I discussed here earlier this year has done rather well for itself.  Lisa Funnell’s volume Warrior Women: Gender, Race, and the Transnational Chinese Action Star (SUNY Press) considers “the significance of Chinese female action stars in national and transnational contexts.”  It was recently named a Bronze Medalist in the 2015 Independent Publisher Book Awards in the Women’s Issues category; it grabbed the 2015 Emily Toth Award, and it was a finalist for the 2014 ForeWord IndieFab Book of the Year in Women’s Studies.  This is great news as the more recognition that titles like this earn, the more scholars will be exposed to the importance of Martial Arts Studies.

Lisa Funnell is an Assistant Professor in the Women’s and Gender Studies Program at the University of Oklahoma, where she is also an affiliated faculty member of the Film and Media Studies Program and the Center for Social Justice.

On November 23rd the Department of East Asian Studies at Tel Aviv University held a one day conference titled “Religion, Violence and the Asian Martial Arts.”  It featured a number of well known researchers as well as papers by some up and coming graduate students.  See here for a full report on this event.  This may be particularly important for anyone who is curious about the debate surrounding the possible existence of the Southern Shaolin temple in the Chinese language academic literature.

We also have some upcoming events to look forward to.  The Martial Arts Studies Research Network will be hosting a conference looking at questions of gender in the martial arts in February.  And the Second Annual Martial Arts Studies conference will be held this July at the Cardiff University.  That event has already locked in a number of confirmed speakers (including Adam Frank, Daniel Mroz, Benjamin Spatz,  Phillip Zarrilli, Paul Bowman and myself)  but if you are interested in going there is still time to submit a proposal to the organizers.  Check out this link for more information on both of these events.

Hing Kee shop in Wan Chai Road, Hong Kong. Source: Wikimedia.

Kung Fu Tea on Facebook

As always there is a lot going on at the Kung Fu Tea Facebook group.  We discussed spirit possession in the traditional Chinese martial arts, Star Wars, female friendly training spaces and why academics need to take blogging more seriously.   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.