States of 'Muhyeong' and 'Yuhyeong' in ITF Taekwon-Do

At the end of 2023 I gave a presentation at Youngsan University's 4th International Taekwondo Conference on the muhyeong-principle in ITF Taekwon-Do. It has been my intention to develop it into an academic paper to submit with a journal, but I've been too distracted to work on that, so I'm deciding to share my draft here on my blog to the benefit of the ITF community, while I hopefully finish the paper for publication in the future. 

From Decisiveness to Adaptability: The Muhyeong-Principle in (ITF) Taekwon-Do

Introduction: Karate's Kime and Taekwon-Do's Jipjung

Taekwondo developed from a Japanese karate—mostly Shotokan Karate—foundation and although Taekwondo evolved into a uniquely Korean martial art, it still retains remnants of both technical methodology and philosophy that are rooted in Japanese martial culture. One example is the notion of kime (決め), which refers to the conspicuous full body tension performed by the karateka at the final moment of a technique. From a technical perspective, this full body tension is supposed to make the body into a solid, immovable structure to fully transfer the technique’s force into the target and prevent possible negative effects from any rebound force. The term kime literally translates as “decision,”^[1] and connotes firm decisiveness; in other words, kime suggests an unwavering execution of the technique decided upon. The isometric concentration of the whole-body musculature in kime is a manifestation of the karateka’s decisive technique. This unwavering decisiveness also manifests in the early formation of the attacking or blocking tool. When performing techniques in karate, the practitioner will keep the hand shape the same from start to finish. For instance, if the technique to be performed is a punch the hand will remain in a fist shape from beginning to end; similarly, if the technique is to be an open-handed strike, the hand will be kept in the knife-hand shape throughout the execution of the movement. This consistency in the “form” of the hand reflects kime’s connotation of an unwavering decision: once the decision to perform either a punch or a strike is made, it is resolutely executed. Within the broader context of Japanese martial arts, one may understand kime, then, as a technical expression of another idea in some Japanese martial arts, including Shotokan karate, namely: ichigeki hissatsu (一撃必殺) which translates as “one punch, certain death” or the more euphemistic expression ichigeki hitsutou (一撃必倒), “one punch, certain victory”.^[2] As such, kime which is primarily a biomechanical feature in karate also lends itself to psychological or philosophical interpretation.

Taekwondo inherited a version of kime from karate. But in taekwondo it is known as jipjung (집중), which translates as “concentration” or “focus”; the term is based on the hanja 集中, which literally translates as gathering everything together to a central point. As such, Taekwon-Do’s jipjung is employed “to concentrate every muscle of the body … towards the appropriate tool … at the proper time … onto the opponent’s vital spot”^[3]. 

In Kukki Taekwondo (the style of Taekwondo under the auspices of the Kukkiwon) the shape of the attacking or blocking tool is also predetermined like in karate; in other words, a punch will start from the hip in the shape of a fist, and a knife-hand strike will also be in the knife-hand shape from the very start of the technique. While the physical manifestation of kime is still visible in the performance of taekwondo’s fundamental movements—for instance in poomsae—, the associated Japanese philosophy of a decisive, victorious action is somewhat lost in translation, as the Korean word jipjung doesn’t have the same decisive connotation as is the case with the Japanese word kime. Instead, taekwondo’s jipjung implies the bringing together of all elements, movements, circumstances, and mental focus into a focussed point; in other words, one’s total energy focussed into the metaphoric bullseye by means of a perfect technique. 

ITF Taekwon-Do also retained the kime / jipjung principle of a whole-body isometric contraction at the final moment of the technique; however, the predetermined formation of the attacking or blocking tool has disappeared from ITF Taekwon-Do’s techniques. In ITF Taekwon-Do, techniques must initiate from a state of relaxation, and unnecessary tension of muscles while performing a movement is strongly discouraged as any engagement of antagonist muscles is believed to negatively affect the speed and resultant power with which the technique can be performed. Therefore, in performing a hand technique, the hand is kept relaxed and without any predetermined form; it is only concentrated into its appropriate shape moments before impact. For example, when performing a punch, the hand remains in “no-form” (neither flexed open nor tightly clenched closed) ^[4] and only concentrates into a fist as the hand nears the target; similarly, when performing a knife-hand strike the hand is relaxed into the hand’s natural unengaged shape and not prematurely opened into the knife-hand shape—the hand will only stiffen into this striking tool prior to contact with the target and during the moment of jipjung. 

States of Muhyeong and Yuhyeong

While the full body tension and the moment of contact with the target does have a designation in Taekwon-Do, namely jipjung, thus far this relaxed methodology that encourages a “no-form” shape of the hand does not have an official nomenclature—apart from general descriptions such as “relaxed” or “lightly clenched” and “not tightly clenched”. After research and discussions with various Korean martial art scholars I decided to designate the Sino-Korean word muhyeong (무형, 無形), which literally translates as “no form” or “without form”—implying something that is “intangible” or “amorphous”—for this principle. This is a fitting description for this relaxed “no-form” aspect in ITF Taekwon-Do techniques before they have morphed into a recognizable tool such as a knife-hand or fist shape. Inversely, the word yuhyeong (유형, 有形), meaning “physical form” or “tangible shape” can be applied to describe the attacking or blocking tool when it has “formed” into its appropriate shape moments before and during the final jipjung-climax. 

Of course, it goes without saying that when we describe the hand as being in a state of muhyeong we do not mean it literally, as if the hand is liquid or vaporous. The hand still retains the natural bio-tensegrity or fascintegrity that is innate to the living structure of complex organisms.^[5] Also, the wrist is never allowed to go limp, but is kept in a neutral position, neither bent up or down nor left or right. A hand in a state of muhyeong simply means that it is naturally relaxed and not formed into a blocking, attacking, or grappling tool. Contrariwise, a hand in a state of yuhyeong is formed into a specific tool. Muhyeong has the primary biomechanical function of keeping the limb relaxed (iwan, 이완, 弛緩), free from unnecessary antagonist muscle tensions so as not to hamper the technique’s speed. 

Techno-Philosophical Interpretation

Apart from its primary function as a method for relaxing antagonist muscles, the muhyeong-notion is also ripe for further interpretation. 

Different Approaches: Decisiveness versus Adaptability

In Karate, kime, as a “decisive” action, implies that once the karateka decides on a technique they ought to be fully committed in its execution, hence the shape of the attacking or blocking tool is predetermined and remains the same from start to finish. It would be considered “wrong,” within the Karate-context, to change one’s mind halfway through the execution of the technique. For instance, once the karateka decides to do a fore fist punch, it is improper to second-guess the decision and suddenly change the technique into a fingertip thrust, as techniques should be performed without hesitation. As such, kime in Karate resonates with a similar idea in several Japanese martial arts, namely sutemi (捨身). A literal translation of sutemi is “abandoning the body,” suggesting self-sacrifice. The implication is a total commitment to every technique without thought of any repercussions. Hence, the highest point one can achieve in Judo is called an “ippon” (一本), translating to one full point or decisive victory^[6]. Both kime and ippon emphasize the importance of decisiveness and achieving a clear outcome attained by complete commitment to executing a technique with full intention and power.

On the other hand, the muhyeong-principle in ITF Taekwon-Do frees the practitioner from such predetermination. Since the attacking or blocking tool only fully manifests in a proper shape (yuhyeong) towards the end of the movement, the Taekwon-Do practitioner is theoretically free to adapt the technique as the situation changes. Therefore, it is quite acceptable within the Taekwon-Do context to change a technique strategically: a punch may become a backfist strike; a front kick may suddenly change into a turning kick; a side kick might suddenly morph into an offensive hook kick. Those familiar with Taekwon-Do sparring will immediately recognize this as a common strategic feature of Taekwon-Do. For instance, kicks are often adapted mid-execution to adjust for the opponent’s movements or to exploit new openings in their guard. Furthermore, this helps to prevent a level of telegraphing, because even when the movement has started the exact technique is not fully knowable until near the end of its execution. 

Relation to East Asian Philosophy

I believe that this muhyeong concept is consistent with some East Asian philosophical ideas that have a long historic association with East Asian martial arts theory. 

Eum-Yang

First, the Daoist concept of taegeuk, (태극; Chinese: 太極, taiji) and its associated eumyang-principle (음양; Chinese: 陰陽, yinyang), is a core idea in East Asian cosmology and often used by East Asian martial arts as a theoretical bases for describing techniques. There are already several approaches for understanding the eumyang-principle in taekwondo. For instance, Dr Stephen Capener argues for interpreting the eumyang-principle as “full and empty space” to explain Taekwon-Do sparring strategy.^[7] For him, during a sparring match, the dynamic interchange of the competitors’ limbs in motion and inevitable appearance and disappearance of viable targets for attack represent “full” and “empty” spaces. An understanding of such full and empty spaces allows for both strategic sparring application and philosophical interpretation. Furthermore, some Korean scholars promote the idea of gangyu (강유, 剛柔), meaning “hardness and softness,” as an application of the eumyang-principle in Taekwon-Do but viewed through a Neo-Confucian lens. Gangyu can basically be understood as those particular binary aspects in Taekwon-Do, such as offensive and defensive techniques. My proposal of “form” and “no-form” (in ITF Taekwon-Do) is likewise an exploration of the eumyang-principle. If a Taekwon-Do technique has a moment of deliberate high tension, where the whole body is concentrated into an unmoving, isometric firmness (in other words, jipjung), it only makes sense that it should also have the opposite, namely a phase of deliberate relaxation (iwan) and fluidity. Similarly, since a technique is only recognized as such at the final moment when it expresses into its clearest form (yuhyeong), it goes without saying that it also has a preformed or amorphous state (muhyeong). 

Muwi 

This muhyeong idea, which allows a practitioner a level of liberty to adapt the technique naturally according to changing circumstances resonates with yet another concept from Daoist philosophy, namely muwi (무위; Chinese: wuwei, 無為), which translates as “non-doing” or “no effort”. Within Daoist teaching, this doesn’t literally mean to not do anything, but rather not to force a situation and instead allow things to unfold naturally. Many martial arts have taken up the muwi principle to mean that a good technique is one in which the greatest result is achieved with the least amount of effort. This principle of efficacy directly relates to the biomechanical purpose of muhyeong which is to ensure that only the necessary agonist muscles are engaged in their proper sequence, and the antagonist muscles are appropriately relaxed, subsequently resulting in the most efficacious movement. 

Mugeuk and Mushim

Furthermore, in Daoist thought mu (無) does not mean mere nothingness; instead, it relates to the “Void” (無極; Korean: mugeuk, 무극), the place of incipience, which contains all potentialities. For the trained martial artist this connects to that spontaneous, reflexive, and masterful bringing forth of the right technique at the right time; in other words, the most appropriate technique hitting the best target at just the right moment. This is different from the kime-concept that implies an active decision. From a Daoist paradigm, the most appropriate technique is not “decided” but rather allowed to manifest without conscious thought naturally and spontaneously. Just as the hand can be described as in a state of muhyeong, so the whole person—body and mind—may manifest muhyeong. This is not conceived as a structureless body and unconsciousness mind, but rather as a body filled with potentiality and a mind open to all options. Daoist and Buddhist meditative practices calls this mental state mushim (무심; Chinese: wushin, 無心; Japanese: mushin). Mushim suggests a mental state of no-mindedness; or a “mind empty of all thought or emotion” so that it is able “to respond to any external stimuli, allowing free expression of any response technique.”^[8] In other words, the ability to do defensive and counter-attack techniques reflexively, without thinking. 

This muhyeong state is of course a transitional state, from a state of potentiality to the yuhyeong state of actuality. As the transition happens, the various potentialities or technique possibilities become fewer and fewer, until finally only one possibility remains. In practise this means that the movement starts out relaxed, but slowly more muscles will become engaged until finally all muscles are engaged. Thus, yuhyeong and jipjung converge. When, from the vast sea of potential techniques, the most appropriate technique is actualized, perfection occurs. Or as Capener puts it: “bringing order to chaos through skillful technique.”^[9] Of course, for this to occur the practitioner must have physically mastered various potentialities, which is a great arsenal of efficacious techniques (or fundamental movements). Only then can the most appropriate technique come forth without conscious thought or physical restraint. As such, muwi as a philosophical extension of muhyeong does not mean no effort in training, but rather so much training and mastery of techniques that when a technique is performed it seems effortless, which is—as all martial artists know—the difference between the novice and the expert. This implies that fundamental movements ought to be trained—or rather—drilled to such a level that they can manifest effortlessly. 

Practical Considerations

Returning from the philosophical to the practical, there are important technical aspects regarding the point of impact with the target that is crucial to discuss. We may ask: ‘When, during the execution of the movement, is the moment of contact with target?’ To make the question more tangible, let’s focus on a specific technique, the front fore fist punch: ‘When performing a front fore fist punch, at what point of the arm’s extension (and the hand’s rotation) should the fist reach its target?’ Asked differently, ‘When should the full transformation from muhyeong to yuhyeong occur?’

There are two reasons these questions are crucial. First, if the hand is still in a state of muhyeong at the moment of impact with the target, there is a high possibility of the hand getting injured since it is not formed into a proper, stable attacking tool (yuhyeong) that can withstand the force of the impact. It is therefore imperative that the hand not make impact with the target too early. Second, all techniques accelerate and then suddenly decelerates at the end of the movement. The deceleration can happen either because it reached its target (e.g., the fist hits the opponent), or because the arm has reached its full extension, which means it naturally stops. The implication of this is that since force is the product of mass times acceleration, the highest moment of the technique’s force cannot be at the very end when the limb is fully extended, as by that time it has decelerated to zero. Ergo, the highest moment of potential force is a point along the trajectory, when the limb is at its highest point of acceleration, before any deceleration starts. Therefore, we want to ideally hit the target at this point when the limb’s speed is at its greatest, which is a point before the limb is fully extended. But how can we know when that is?

Taekwon-Do convention advocates that when performing a front fore fist punch, the punch should rotate upon contact with the target. Various reasons for this rotation are proposed, but I’ll leave that aside for now. What I want to focus on here is simply that, according to tradition, the fist should rotate on the target. What this implies, then, is that the moment the fist starts rotating is also conceivably the moment of initial impact—the full rotational corkscrew of the fist is supposed to coincided with the deeper penetration of the technique towards the true target that is beyond the surface skin. For instance, when we aim for the solar plexus, we are not merely aiming for the spot right under the sternum, but rather for a point deeper within the torso.^[10]

Different instructors promote different times in the execution of the punch for the rotation to occur. Some suggest the final third of the movement, others say at the last quarter before full extension. Unfortunately, scientific studies that measure the highest moment of acceleration in all ITF Taekwon-Do techniques are yet to be done.^[11] There are, however, some studies with regards to punches in Karate and Kukki Taekwon-Do worth mentioning. Based on punching experiments mentioned by Master Nakayama, the “maximum speed occurs at just around 70 percent of full extension”^[12]. An academic article focussing on Karate punches states that the “maximum speed was recorded as a point between 70 and 80 [percent]” of full extension.^[13] The Kukkiwon’s Taekwondo Textbook (2022) suggests that this point is at “80% of the arm’s length”.^[14] So the oral tradition in ITF Taekwon-Do that advocates for the rotation to start at around the final quarter of the movement seems to be correct.

What this suggests is that by this point (i.e., the point of highest velocity), yuhyeong (i.e., the formation of the attacking tool) ought to occur. Of course, the point of highest velocity will be slightly different depending on the technique and also purpose. But until scientific research is done to determine the likely points for different techniques, we can—for practical purposes—assume the same rule of thumb that the point of highest velocity occurs at roughly 75% of the full extension of the limb, or around the final quarter of the technique.

Earlier in this discussion it may have seemed that I equated yuhyeong and jipjung. However, based on the preceding it is obvious that this is not the case. Yuhyeong occurs slightly prior to jipjung. Yuhyeong (the formation of the tool) happens at around three-quarters of the movement, while jipjung (isometric concentration of the whole body) is a bit closer to the end of the movement. However, the precise commencement of the two are within fractions of a second of each other. Though they do conclude at the same time. 

Conclusion

A very important departure in ITF Taekwon-Do’s evolution out of Karate is the muhyeong-principle. This kinaesthetic principle has technical, strategic, and philosophical applications and implications. Technically it contributes to more relaxed movement which are theoretically capable of greater acceleration. It is important, however, to keep practical considerations in mind when employing the muhyeong-principle. While muhyeong may have some technical advantages, it may also lead to possible injuries when practitioners fail to apply yuyeong in time. For instance, if it is not formed into an appropriate blocking, attacking, or grappling tool before contact with the opponent, the hand might be injured. Strategically, the muhyeong-principle allows for greater adaptability. Taekwon-Do techniques are allowed to change mid-execution to adapt for changes in the combat dynamics. This level of freedom may have contributed to Taekwon-Do’s creative expression that led to the creation of various innovative techniques. And philosophically the muhyeong-principle resonates with Daoist concepts such as muwi and mushim. For people who find this East Asian philosophical interpretations too esoteric, I recommend another interpretive lens, that of Sport Psychology. The same muwi and mushim ideas can be understood as part of the “flow” state, which is a mental condition where an athlete is fully immersed in their performance; it is often described as being “in the zone,” where athletes experience a merging of action and awareness, making their performance effortless and automatic.

^[1] The equivalent Korean word is gyeoljeong (결정, 決定), meaning decision or resolution. However, this term is not commonly employed to describe Taekwon-Do techniques.

^[2] General Choi famously also made a calligraphy of this phrase (一撃必倒), which is printed in the ITF Taekwon-Do Encyclopaedia. The Korean (일격필승) Romanizes as ilgyeok pilseung.

^[3] Choi, H. H., (1999). Encyclopaedia of Taekwon-Do. Vol. 2, p. 20. 

^[4] Another Korean martial art, Subyeok-Chigi (수벽치기), which has a similar concept of not forming the attacking tool prematurely, calls this hand shape banjum (반줌), literally “half fist”. I use this term when I want to discuss the relaxed hand shape before it concentrates into a tool specifically; when I want to keep the philosophical idea of muhyeong and yuhyeong out of the discussion.

^[5] Bordoni, B., Varacallo, M. A., Morabito, B., and Simonelli, M. (June 03, 2019). “Biotensegrity or Fascintegrity?” Cureus 11(6): e4819. DOI 10.7759/cureus.4819

^[6] The ippon is to Judo what the knockout punch is to Western boxing: clear victory.

^[7] Capener, S. D. (1995.) “Problems in the Identity and Philsophy of T’aegwondo and Their Historical Causes.” Korea Journal. (1995: Winter.)

^[8] Rielly, R. L. (1998). Complete Shotokan Karate: The Samurai Legacy and Modern Practise. (p. 80.)

^[9] Capener, S. D. (1995.) “Problems in the Identity and Philsophy of T’aegwondo and Their Historical Causes.” Korea Journal. (1995: Winter.)

^[10] The solar plexus is a common target in many martial arts. However, few people realize how deep the solar plexus is within the body. What is known as the “solar plexus” is a cluster of nerves roughly 10-12 cm from the front surface of the body, nearer to the front of the spine. It is very unlikely that one would penetrate the body from the front with a punch deep enough to reach the solar plexus. The usual effects we witness from strikes to the solar plexus is probably due to the shock to other organs that are much closer to the surface, such as the diaphragm. 

^[11] Regrettably, I doubt there is an ITF organization with the desire to start such a project even though such studies would be invaluable to the scientific understanding of ITF Taekwon-Do. I can only hope that my work inspire other individual Taekwon-Do scholars with the knowledge and means to undertake such research.

^[12] Nakayama, M. (1967). Dynamic Karate. 

^[13] Walker, J. D. (1975). “Karate Strikes”. American Journal of Physics. Vol 43:10 (pp. 845-849).
^[14] Choi, C. & Lee, S. (2022). Taekwondo Textbook: 2 Basic. Kukkiwon.

The Muhyeong (No-Form) Principle in ITF Taekwon-Do

On 22 November 2023 I delivered a paper entitled "From Decisiveness to Adaptability: The Muhyeong-Principle in (ITF) Taekwondo" at the 4th International Taekwondo Conference under the theme "Martial Arts Meditations: Philosophical Issues and Contemporary Research on Taekwondo", organized by Youngsan University (South Korea) with the support of Kasetsart University (Thailand), on occasion of the 40th Anniversary of Youngsan University. 

It was an online conference, so the organizer requested us to prerecord our presentations and then join the conference via Zoom for panel discussions. Below is the recording I made, and below that is the abstract of the paper. 

ABSTRACT: 

From Decisiveness to Adaptability: The Muhyeong-Principle in (ITF) Taekwondo

Dr. Sanko Lewis

This paper explores one aspect in the evolution of taekwondo from karate. Karate emphasizes kime (“decision”), manifested as the isometric concentration of the whole body at the final moment of the technique. Taekwondo inherited this concept but named it jipjung (“concentration”). Taekwondo’s jipjung retains the physical aspects of kime, but underlying philosophical connotations differ. Furthermore, the ITF style of taekwondo introduces the concept of muhyeong, meaning “no-form,” which functions as the complementary opposite of jipjung. If jipjung represents the moment when the technique is concentrated into its clearest form, muhyeong represents the unformed state of the technique—the state of potentiality. This emphasis on the relaxed and formless part of the overall movement enhances muscular efficiency and offers strategic adaptability. It may also be interpreted as aligning with East Asian philosophical ideas, such as eumyang (yinyang), muwi (wuwei), and mushim (mushin).

Keywords: Taekwondo, karate, kime, jipjung, muhyeong, East Asian philosophy, martial arts philosophy.

The Tenet of ‘Courtesy’ in Taekwon-Do

Calligraphy by Choi Hong-Hi
of the Tenets of Taekwon-Do

 

General Choi Hong-hi, the founder of ITF Taekwon-Do, composed a list of five tenets that he required practitioners to recite and embody. The tenets, as they are translated into English, are courtesy [예의], integrity [염치], perseverance [인내], self-control [극기], and an indomitable spirit [백절 불굴]. As I pointed out in a previous essay, with some of these terms, there is something lost in translation. This is also the case for the first tenet, “courtesy”.

 

In English, the word “courtesy” suggests polite and respectful behaviour with proper etiquette, which is close to the translations one would get if you search the equivalent Korean word [예의] in a Korean-English dictionary: manners, etiquette, courtesy, politeness, proprieties, decorum, and civility.

 

While this may be a general understanding of the term, the Korean word “ye-eui” has a deeper connotation which one may glimpse when you look at the hanja (Chinese characters) on which the word is based. The hanja for “ye-eui” [예의] is 禮儀. The first character [禮] can translate to manners (decent and respectable behaviour) or ritual propriety (proper actions during rites and ritual ceremonies), while the second character roughly translates to proper etiquette, but can also translate as righteous or lawful behaviour. What I want to point out here is that the Korean term “ye-eui” [예의] has a much more demanding implication than the English word “courtesy”. Courteous behaviour may simply be good manners and one’s adherence or disregard of them does not really have any serious consequences. Whereas the Korean term implies the righteousness or lawfulness of one’s conduct. 

 

Confucius was a Chinese sage-philosopher
whose teachings greatly affected East Asia.
There are still many aspects of Confucianism
that are part of modern Korean culture.

 

Confucianism is fundamental to Korean culture and central to Confucianism is the concept of li (‘ritual propriety’ or ‘sense-of-ritual’). Li covers a wide range of conduct and behaviour from religious rites to state and governmental rituals, to social ceremonies such as at weddings and funerals, to appropriate etiquette for social relations. In other words, it covers every aspect of one’s life: in religious matters, with regards to the State, in society at large, within families, and among all relationships. It is both the adherence to state laws and the respect one shows to one’s parents and elders, including the good manners when interacting with people in daily life, even such seeming trivialities as drinking etiquette and table manners.

Confucianism (cf. Mencius) believes that we have the seeds of li innately inside us, but that a ‘sense-of-ritual’ should be learned and developed. The idea of “ritual” here should be understood more broadly to include all appropriate behaviours: manners, etiquette, lawful deeds and righteous conduct. Furthermore, notice the concept “sense-of-ritual”: it is not merely about adhering to codes and rules of conduct; rather, there should be an internal sense of appropriate behaviour. Thus, “sense-of-ritual” refers to a developed moral sensibility.

The Confucian ideal is to be a junzi [君子], often translated as “a gentleman” or “superior person.” (The Korean equivalent is a gunja [군자], a person of virtue and culture.) When Confucius’ greatest disciple Yan Hui asked his Master about perfect virtue (ren 仁), Confucius answered: “Don’t look in a way that is not li, don’t listen in a way that is not li, don’t speak in a way that is not li, and don’t move in a way that is not li.” It would be incorrect to conclude that it is all about outward behaviours—how one ought to or ought not to behave. Confucius’ answer was in regard to his student’s question about virtue. Virtue is more than just an outward display; in a righteous person, virtues have become internalized. Confucian scholars like Mencius considered li a virtue alongside other virtues such as benevolence, filial piety, and sincerity. To another student Confucius answered: “Let your words be sincere and truthful and your actions honorable and careful.”  

 

Bowing before training is one
part of showing courtesy.

 

To bring it back to our original discussion of Taekwon-Do’s tenet of courtesy, the Chinese term li is in fact the same first character in the word “ye-eui” [예의, 禮儀]. Often in Taekwon-Do we understand “courtesy” simply as the respectful behaviours in the dojang such as taking our shoes off before stepping onto the mat, or bowing to instructors or to our opponents before sparring; however, as I tried to show here, ‘courtesy’ must be understood in a much broader sense. Like the other tenets, it is not just limited to the confines of the dojang. The courtesy tenet extends to how we treat people in our daily lives—with respect and sincerity—and the way we conduct ourselves in society. It is not merely about behaviour, but rather an attitude (“sense-of-ritual”). It is also culturally sensitive and situationally sensitive, what Koreans call nunchi [눈치], which is the ability to read a social situation and act appropriately. To embody courtesy means that you will conduct yourself in a noble and virtuous manner at all times—like a junzi / gunja, a person of culture and learning.

In an essay I posted on the Soo Shim Kwan-blog in December 2020 I mentioned as a footnote the idea of postmodern martial arts. In the middle of 2021, while on a martial arts podcast about that post, the interviewer asked me about that postmodern martial arts comment. My answer on the podcast was rather sparce because to answer such a question would really require at least a cursory exposition of what Postmodernism is and only then can one attempt to define what a postmodern martial art would look like. Since our time on the interview was already coming to an end, I kept my response brief. However, the postmodern topic again passed by my radar recently when in two of my university classes this past semester I spent a few units on Postmodernism. This made me think about postmodern martial arts again, so I decided now might be a good time to ponder the topic once more—here in writing.  

What is a Postmodern Martial Art?

 by Dr. Sanko Lewis 

Postmodernism

Image Source 
Different modernist worldviews
promised utopias, but delivered
dystopian regimes.

Let me begin with a brief—and very simplified—introduction to Postmodernism. Postmodernism is a Zeitgeist (“spirit of the time”). Zeitgeists are basically a ‘paradigm’ or ‘worldview’ and is detectible in the many ways that it manifests in society, culture, art, and even technology. The postmodern Zeitgeist emerged around the 1960’s out of an earlier Zeitgeist, known as Modernism. The “post-” prefix in Post-modernism does not mean that it appeared after the end of Modernism, but merely that it emerged after the start of Modernism. Aspects of Modernism is still very much active today; nevertheless, Postmodernism has become hugely prevalent in many aspects of society at large. Without going into too much of the history of these Zeitgeists, let’s suffice to say that Modernism promised Utopias but delivered the world wars and the exploitation of natural resources. Against this background of the Holocaust and Hiroshima, a cynicism and scepticism emerged which is at the core of Postmodernism. Put simply, Postmodernism rose in reaction to the ideals and values of Modernism.

Some important postmodern themes are:

• the questioning and doubting of Grand Narratives,
• the breaking-down or crossing of boundaries and borders,
• decentralization and discontinuity,
• and recycling and repurposing.

These themes manifest in many ways. I will discuss the themes and some of their manifestations as they relate to martial arts.

 

Premodern and Modern Martial Arts

However, before we do so, it is important to make a quick distinction between premodern and modern martial arts.

Zhang Sanfeng observing
a fight between a snake
and a bird.

Premodern martial arts are those martial arts that is thought to have developed in “ancient times” and adhere to a premodern worldview; for instance, the believe in an animistic force (such as qi), esoteric tribal (i.e., in-group) knowledge, and techniques inspired by phenomena in the natural world, such as natural cycles and animal behaviour. It is often believed that the martial art and its “secrets” have been handed down in a lineage from master to disciple over hundreds of years and numerous generations. An example of a “traditional” martial art might be Taiji Ch’uan, which adhere to the theory of qi-power, the natural cycles of yin and yang, and the folklore of the Taoist monk Zhang Sanfeng who witnessed a fight between a snake and a crane.  

On the other hand, modern martial arts are based primarily on a modern scientific understanding of motion (Newtonian physics) and the human body (physiology and biomechanics). Techniques are sourced from what “works” (although this is questionable), rather than handed-down secrets. That does not mean that modern martial arts are not transmitted from one generation to the next, but the relationship is one of coach and athlete, rather than traditional master and disciple. Although ITF Taekwon-Do occasionally regresses to premodern customs, as a whole, ITF Taekwon-Do is a modern martial art that was deliberately modernized by its founder. There are no secrets only available to the insiders; credibility through lineages has been replaced by certificates from an international governing body; magic energy made way for Newtonian physics, and poetic animalistic moves became standardized biomechanical techniques.  

Both traditional martial arts and modern martial arts place their faith in their chosen Grand Narratives. The term “Grand Narrative” refers to a “big story”, i.e., a standard explanation, for how things work. The Grand Narrative in premodern martial arts is the lineage and the inherited tribal wisdom and associated philosopy. The ancestral line is the centre of the system and what legitimizes the practitioner’s knowledge and skill. In the case of modern martial arts, the Grand Narrative is often some form of technical manifesto which is legitimized by a governing body. For example, ITF Taekwon-Do has a technical manifesto known as the “Theory of Power” and the related canonical technical explanations which provides a “scientific model” for the system. This is in turn interpreted and supposedly updated by the Technical Committee of the ITF (whether at a local governing body or international governing body level). In theory the Technical Committee is (or ought to be) populated by people that are highly experienced in the system and have relevant qualifications in, for example, physical education, sport science, biomechanics, physiology, physics, etc.

Both premodern and modern martial arts are structured within boundaries. Premodern martial arts function as intangible cultural artifacts—like traditional dances. The cultural context, such as an ethnicity, tribe, village, or family is its boundary; it is what separates it from another martial art systems. For instance, Taiji Ch’uan is a Chinese martial art that can be differentiate into five (literal) family styles: Chen Family Style (i.e., the version of Taiji Ch’uan developed by the Chen family of the Chen Village in Henan province); Yang Style; Wi Style; Sun Style; and Hao Style. Modern martial arts often define their boundary by their specialization, such as being a striking art or a grappling art, a combat sport or military close combat system, and so on. Modern martial arts seldom claim to be “everything.” Both Judo and Boxing are sports, but clearly within their own spheres: the one would not claim to be a striking system nor would the other claim to be grappling system. Although Taekwon-Do may have some throws and ground techniques, it is ultimately a striking art. Similarly, Brazilian Jiu-jitsu may have some techniques from a standing position, but it is on the ground where it comes into its own.

 

Postmodern Martial Arts

With the preceding context we are ready to dive into the notion of postmodern martial arts. I will propose three examples of postmodern martial arts: Hapkido, Jeet Kune Do, and what has become known as mixed martial arts. And I will discuss each of these in relation to the postmodern themes that I outlined earlier.

 

Hapkido

Hapkido is a modern martial art in the sense that it is one of the “modern” systems that developed in the early 20^th century out of a premodern heritage.

Choi Yong Sul, the "founder" of Hapkido

During the Japanese occupation of Korea, a young boy named Choi Yong Sul was taken to Japan. There he became a house servant to Takeda Sōdaku, the founder of Daitō-ryū AIki-jūjutsu. At the end of the occupation, Choi returned to Korea and started teaching what he called, among other names, “Yusul” (the Korean rendition of “jujutsu”). As the system evolved, so did its name, and eventually the name “Hapkido” became most popular. While originally based on a Japanese system, Hapkido has evolved dramatically. From early on, techniques that are foreign to the original Daitō-ryū AIki-jūjutsu, such as an extended arsenal of kicks-and-striking techniques, were incorporated from various local (Korean) and foreign martial arts. Hapkido also developed numerous weapon systems influenced from local and foreign, such as Chinese and Japanese, systems. Hapkido is a discontinuous martial art—a bricolage of techniques repurposed from various systems; i.e., “crossing of boundaries and borders”. Additionally, Hapkido still adhere to aspects of premodern martial arts, such as the concept of qi (known as “gi” in Korean) that features centrally in Hapkido’s technical philosophy and practice. Yet it is also acts like a modern martial art—claiming to be a self-defence system based on a technical manifesto of Newtonian physics and biomechanical principles.

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At first, Hapkido adhered to a strong lineage starting with Choi Yong Sul, but by implication connected to Takeda Sōdaku and his Japanese system. However, Hapkido quickly reimagined itself as a Korean system, and incorporated not only Korean techniques but also Korean philosophical concepts. The lineage with Choi Yong Sul is still acknowledged but as of today there are over 60 governing bodies in South Korea alone, making it very much a fragmented system. It is not a surprise, then, that the technical syllabi are practically unique from school to school, with little standardization worldwide.

Most Hapkido schools present themselves in the way of premodern martial arts with a long lineage, a particular ethno- and cultural quality (i.e., Korean), a master-disciple pedagogy, and even qi-cultivation techniques. However, these elements are questionable, and may rather be understood from the postmodern theme of “recycling and repurposing.” It is difficult to say to what degree Hapkido is Japanese, rather than Korean, not to mention the incorporation of techniques from other systems such, for example, Sambo (Russian wrestling) and various Chinese styles. The master-disciple pedagogy of tribes and villages is not how Hapkido is taught today—rather, Hapkido schools are mostly often businesses and the students are clients. And it is not quite clear how many instructors actually believe that qi is essential to Hapkido techniques. In many Hapkido schools the idea of qi and even qi exercises such as abdominal breathing exercises, often performed at the beginning or end of a class, seem more to be an addendum than truly part of the system. Techniques are better explained through physics, biomechanics, and physiology rather than Taoist principles.

 

Jeet Kune Do

Jeet Kune Do is the martial philosophy of Bruce Lee.

Apart from martial arts, Bruce Lee 
was also a cha cha dance champion.
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Lee’s family was involved in Cantonese opera, which includes various disciplines ranging from acting to singing to martial arts. Hence, Lee was exposed to these performing arts and even performed in some rolls as a child. While in school, Lee learned boxing and as a teenager he started learning Wing Chung Kung Fu under a grandmaster of the style Yip Man, who claimed to be part of the direct lineage to the Yim Wing-chun after whom the style was named. Lee also added the Cuban dance cha-cha-cha to his extracurricular activities. Lee relocated to the United States where he started to teach martial arts—basically his version of Wing Chun, but here Lee would be exposed to various other martial arts. For instance, Lee learned Taekwon-Do kicks from Grandmaster Jhoon Rhee (father of Taekwon-Do in the USA).

In 1964 Lee had a fight with a Chinese martial artist, Wong Jack-man, in Oakland, California. According to Lee the reason for the dual was because he was teaching martial arts to “outsiders” (i.e., Americans), which was not allowed by the Chinese community. Although Lee claimed to have won the fight, he was disappointed with his performance and concluded that his traditional martial art skillset was too formalized and, hence, limiting. This led to a journey of abandoning tradition for what he called a “style of no style.” His goal was not to create yet another system of fixed techniques, but rather a “philosophy” that embraced the idea of “using no way as way”; i.e., not being limited to any particular martial system but rather incorporating whatever works from any system, based around a number of technical and strategic principles such as efficacy and interception.

Bruce Lee learned Taekwon-Do kicks from Jhoon Rhee

This exemplifies the postmodern questioning of Grand Narratives. Lee questioned both tradition and lineage (“discontinuity”) and started to research and incorporate other martial arts into his system, including those of European origin such as European fencing and savate (a French martial art). Thus, Lee manifested another postmodern theme: “the breaking-down or crossing of boundaries and borders,” which he was also doing, according to his account, by not only learning from other cultural systems but also teaching “outsiders”. Sourcing from different martial arts also exemplifies the postmodern theme of “recycling and repurposing.” Bruce Lee was clearly a postmodernist, and his methodology was one of deconstruction. Lee named his approach Jeet Kune Do.

Today, many people who practise “Jeet Kune Do” are not doing it as a postmodern philosophy. Rather, they have reverted to premodern martial arts notions of lineage and other fixed training methodologies. Nevertheless, there are still people who follows Lee’s postmodern “way of no way”.

 

Mixed Martial Arts (aka Hybrid Martial Arts)

As the name suggest, mixed martial arts are literally the result of sourcing skills from different martial arts to form a hybrid or eclectic system. In other words, it is the individualized practice of mixing techniques together, often to create a personalized “rounded” skillset that can defend at different spheres of engagement: striking, clinch, and ground. One might combine Boxing, Taekwondo, and Judo; or Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiujitsu; or any other combination.

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This mixing of styles from different systems and even different cultures is a manifestation of the “crossing of boundaries” theme in Postmodernism. Furthermore, as there is no respect for an actual ancestral lineage nor a true governing body, mixed martial arts is essentially decentralized. Practitioners can jump from one school or system to another at whim as soon as they have “collected” a skill or technique that they wish to add to their skillset collage. Mixed martial arts training is discontinuous in nature—this doesn’t mean that the practitioner is not continually training, but simply that they are not necessarily loyal to a continuous lineage as is the case with premodern martial arts or the dedicated specialization in modern martial arts. There is a scepticism in mixed martial arts that questions the validity of traditional (i.e., premodern) martial arts as well as the myopic focus of the modern martial arts, but when valuable techniques or skills are identified, they are dislodged from their original context and repurposed to the new non-traditional context.

A sport known as “Mixed Martial Arts” (MMA), epitomized by the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship), has emerged. This sport is in many ways similar to modern martial art combat sports—it is nevertheless postmodern in its mixing of a serious sport with the pomp and pageantry of the entertainment industry.

 

Embracing a Positive Postmodernism

I’m certain, that many martial artists would feel offended if I were to say that their practise is postmodern or even that they could benefit from being more postmodern in their training. For many people, Postmodernism has become a swear word, often associated with Relativism and Nihilism; hence they associate anything “postmodern” with meaninglessness. Unfortunately, this is due to a common misunderstanding and inadequate understanding of Postmodernism. It is not the case that Postmodernism is anti-truth, as is often claimed. Postmodernism’s protest of Grand Narratives does not mean that there is no truth, but rather that reality is too multifaceted to be explained by a singular framework (i.e., one Grand Narrative).

The parable of "The Blind and the Elephant"
exemplifies the postmodern understanding of truth
that is approximated through different points-of-view.
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A postmodern pursuit of knowledge is one that allows for many points-of-view. In martial arts terms we may call it “cross-training.” It is the realization that there is no ultimate martial art, but rather that we can learn from many martial arts. And in fact, it is such an ability to view the world from different points of view that brings us closer to reality. As such, simple “cross-training” is not enough. For instance, mixed martial arts are postmodern in their cross-training, but they are often spiritually superficial, as they still tend to cling to singular goals, such as a modernist ideal of winning at all cost. Mixed martial artist could benefit from expanding their “cross-training” to other “spiritual” disciplines such as finding ways to include a “spiritual discipline” or “moral culture” or even meditation in their training so that they don’t just train how to fight, but also pursue becoming better human beings (goals often pursued  within premodern martial arts). It is here then where I want to connect this essay with the essay which I wrote just over a year ago on “Pre-Rational, Rational, Trans-RationalViews of Martial Arts”.

It is my conviction that there is value in becoming transmodern martial artists that incorporate the best of both premodern and modern martial arts paradigms and develop systems that are truly beneficial at various levels. I believe that one can do this within existing systems or individually within one’s personal martial arts journey. It requires, however, honesty, humility, and open-mindedness. Honesty to admit what doesn’t work within your system; humility to learn from other people and other sources; and open-mindedness to explore the unfamiliar.

I do make a distinction between simply a postmodern martial artist and a trans-modern martial artist. The former can easily become haphazardly fragmentary, without any over arching cohesion. Or, simply busy with deconstruction* without reconstruction. However, if the postmodern journey is a positive one, where the deconstruction is also generative, then it may be of the trans-modern sort: a creative journey of development that synergistically brings together principles and ideas across various styles and disciplines to create something deeper and richer.

*Deconstruction is a postmodern methodology for analyzing the underlining assumptions and contradictions within a system.