The Illusion of the Decisive Blow

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The Illusion of the Decisive Blow

Karate has long been split by a quiet civil war. On one side stands traditional Shotokan, cloaked in the rhetoric of budo, wary of trophies and the trivialising effect of rules. Its creed is ikken hissatsu — one decisive strike to end a fight — a philosophy that treats sport kumite as mere athletic fencing. On the other side is sport karate, fast, point-driven, and shaped by the World Karate Federation’s obsession with speed, control, and the referee’s flag. Here the aim is to score, not to maim.

Each side regards the other as missing the point. The traditionalist sees the sport fighter as conditioned to pull punches, addicted to game tactics, unfit for “real” combat. The sport stylist sees the traditionalist as rusty and untested, drilled in compliant partner routines and overtrained in kata whose utility has long since been lost in translation.

And here’s the awkward truth: both are right. Neither format, in the form commonly taught in the UK and elsewhere, reliably produces people who can handle the chaos of a street assault or the savagery of a battlefield encounter. Sport ruleset habits are hard to unlearn under adrenal stress; traditional kihon and pre-arranged kumite do not pressure-test skills against a fully resisting attacker. Neither prepares for clinch fighting, groundwork, multiple opponents, or the environmental messiness and shock of real violence.

Police and military combative systems address exactly these gaps. They strip techniques down to a small set of gross-motor movements that survive adrenaline and fatigue. They train against resistance, under stress, in scenarios that begin with verbal escalation and end with weapon retention or extraction. Striking, clinch, and ground skills are integrated; protective gear allows full-contact pressure testing. It is brutally pragmatic and entirely uninterested in the elegance of a textbook gyaku-zuki.

Why then does the traditional Shotokan community — the one most fond of claiming “combat effectiveness” — not engage with these methods? Partly, it is cultural inertia: the art’s identity is tied to its post-war pedagogy and its kata canon. Admitting the need for change would undermine decades of mystique. Partly, it’s safety and liability: full-contact, scenario-based training raises injury rates and insurance costs. 

But mostly, it is a matter of self-image.

And here’s the unspoken truth: in the civilian West, there is almost no market for Krav Maga-style fast, brutal lethality that’s genuinely pressure-tested. The existing rituals — more akin to macho war dancing than to combat — are far more congenial. They are safe, inclusive, and fun, yet still offer the illusion of an inherited warrior brother/sisterhood.

Belts, medals, and formalised bouts deliver status without danger; the pageantry is preserved, the mythology intact. Testing the myth in the chaos of real violence would strip away the comfortable spectacle, would be terrifying to the participants and leave more than a few bruises — and that’s a truth few have any incentive to face.

ChatGPT interviews me about Martial Arts

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ChatGPT: How did you first get into martial arts?

Nigel: I think I was 10 or 11 when I got the idea to do Judo: it seemed empowering. My mother was against it, thinking it would make me violent. My father came to my rescue, telling her that such training would stand me in good stead if I got caught up in any bar brawls. I imagine he was recalling his army days—this would have been around 1961-2.

I used to cycle up to the local club on Saturday mornings, they used a scout hut on the Southmead Road, near Filton aerodrome. I was keen and worked my way through the Mon grades of the junior system. Back then, gradings required contest victories, and I won enough.

ChatGPT: Did you have a favorite technique or style of fighting?

Nigel: Tai-otoshi—body drop. It suited my build: long and lanky. I was never very good at hip or shoulder throws. Once, in a grading contest, I got caught by a sucker-punch. My opponent used tomoe-nage, the stomach throw. It’s spectacular—an instant ippon, a victory. But it should never work against a prepared opponent; the counter is too easy. Just squat down and go straight to groundwork with the advantage of being on top!

ChatGPT: Did you continue Judo into adulthood?

Nigel: I kept it up in secondary school, but university and then work took over. I dabbled a bit later, but I never returned to it systematically. A shame, but priorities are what they are.

ChatGPT: Did you explore other martial arts later?

Nigel: Briefly. I tried karate a few years later, but in those days, it was all punching the air and ferocious numbers of push-ups. Too hard for me, and the benefits were years away. Aikido? I went to a few lessons, but it seemed curiously placid and ineffectual. I couldn’t buy into it.

ChatGPT: And T’ai Chi? How did that fit into your journey?

Nigel: I never thought of T’ai Chi as a combat art. You get what you train for. If you go slow and don’t spar for real, you’ll win no fights. For me, T’ai Chi was about Taoist ideas—balance, a calm frame of mind, and kinaesthetic awareness. You could see the difference between the newbies and the adepts: I wanted to be like those who flowed through the form, and I think I’ve got there.

ChatGPT: Did Taoism lead you to T’ai Chi, or was it the other way around?

Nigel: Taoism came first. I’ve always had sympathy for Lao Tzu’s idea of immanent harmony. But I’m also mindful of Cheng Man Ch’ing’s remark that Taoism is for the philosopher-hermit on his hill, while Confucianism is for those who live in the world. My adherence to the Catholic Church probably reflects the wisdom of that remark.

ChatGPT: So, would you say you’ve always balanced the philosophical with the practical?

Nigel: I’m open to the deep mysticism of consciousness in the universe, for sure. But I also believe combat skills matter in an uncertain world. Shotokan Karate reminded me of that. I achieved 7th kyu (yellow belt) in nine months of regular training. Realistically, though, I think first dan, plus hard kumite getting there, is the minimal precondition for useful skill. In another life, I’d have liked to get there.

ChatGPT: You mentioned earlier that martial arts should unify inner spirit and outward efficiency. Did you see that in your training?

Nigel: Yes. My Shotokan Sensei, a 6th dan, insisted on that unity, as do all serious martial arts. The hard and soft styles ultimately converge. I first encountered that idea as a child in Judo, and I’ve always internalised it as the goal.

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Two Years of Karate (2022-2024)

Paul Mitchell, 6th Dan, Shotokan Karate

Today it is two years since I rolled up to the dojo at Wells Blue School, and asked the Sensei, Paul Mitchell (6th Dan), whether I could observe. He brusquely pointed to the left hand end of the line, where the lowest grades and newbies stood, and said, "Join in there."

I graded as orange belt (9th kyu) on Tuesday November 22nd 2022. Three months later, on February 14th 2023 I was promoted to red belt, (8th kyu) and I gained yellow belt (7th kyu) on May 20th.

But through most of my training I had developed pins and needles in my left foot, with pain in my buttock which made sitting difficult. That's nerve damage: sciatica. I concluded that shotokan karate training, with its high kicks and aggressive turns, was just wreaking havoc with my 72 year old body. On Tuesday June 13th 2023 I had the difficult conversation with Paul, telling him I had to withdraw from further classes.

That was not the end.

I had a private lesson with Paul a few months later, when I was beginning to feel a little better. "Is it possible to do karate in a manner similar to T'ai Chi, where you focus on balance, stretching, memory and poise rather than speed and power?"

Paul, who is a teacher of T'ai Chi as well as karate, emphasised that indeed it was, while straightening me out on Heian Sandan.

I no longer attend classes, but my regular weekly gym sessions include kihon, sanbon kumite and the first four Heian katas, done in the way Sensei Mitchell proposed. It's good for me (I also do T'ai Chi and the sword form in these sessions) and keeps up the tradition.

I find shotokan karate endlessly fascinating: its relationship to real street-fighting skills ("How many of these black belts have ever been in a real fight," one of the blue belts once said to me scornfully, "apart from Paul Mitchell?"), as well as its purpose and philosophy in the early twenty-first century in the developed world.

On biting the hand that 'protects' you

Clare, picking up the post this morning, said, "Your Ninja Turtle magazine's arrived."

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And here's Clare at the East Somerset Railway station four days ago.

My 'Talk' with the Karate Sensei

Sensei: “Welcome. You wanted this meeting, so what did you want to talk about?”

Me: “Traditional Shotokan Karate: I think you have an identity crisis.”

Sensei: “Why?”

Me: “Focus first on the 'Traditional'. You don't like competitive sports karate. You think it distorts the art, moves it away from combat effectiveness.”

Sensei (gruffly): “That's right. It's all about dancing up and down, high-kicking, lightness of touch and fast, instant withdrawal for point scoring. And so they lose true lethality.”

Me: “Your own classes are quite kinetic though. Plenty of technique (kihon), and kata. But looking at the class, the students seem overwhelmed by the number of techniques and kata they have to learn. And they don't do much sparring (kumite).”

Sensei: “That's because it takes at least two to three years to get technique into automatic muscle memory so that sparring practice is useful.”

Me: “Yet surely a disinterested observer would conclude that sports such as boxing and MMA, which make sparring central, are more effective on the street. You get what you train for. And you get to be effective within the first year.”

Sensei: “Karate isn't just fighting skills: it comes with a cultural tradition of personal development, honour, self-discipline and spirituality.”

Me: “That is mostly anchored in the kata, 26 in all, which could take a lifetime to learn well - and that's not at all a criticism. Yet the combat application of kata, the bunkai, isn't well integrated with sparring and seems ill-understood, even controversial?”

Sensei: “Yet the essence of karate is to be found in the kata.”

Me: “It seems to me that if you want to be an effective street fighter then boxing or MMA are the ways to go. Motobu Choki pointed out that kata are almost irrelevant. The martial values of self-control, self-discipline and honour are present in all the formalised fighting traditions.

“If, on the other hand, you want the health benefits of balance, flexibility, suppleness, mental calmness and spirituality, then the T’ai Chi Ch’uan form, which is equivalent to kata, has exactly those objectives.

“Surely Traditional Shotokan Karate is simply trapped between these two poles, neither one thing or the other?”

Sensei: “The two aspects you point out are indeed dimensions within karate. Different masters emphasise one more than the other perhaps, depending upon their interests and inclinations. 

“Yet there is no shallow route to deep understanding of the art. Once their energy goes, people have to retire from the practice of boxing and MMA. T’ai Chi Ch’uan can lose its grounding in brutal combat effectiveness, veering off into the arbitrariness and superficiality of choreography: 'mere dance'. 

“The lifelong study of karate in all its complexity - it's a deep immersion into an ancient warrior culture: one which is absent and even deprecated in modern life.”

Me: “Agreed. But your class really falls between two stools. Many students are middle class and not very aggressive: your focus on power, speed and martial spirit falls upon stony ground. Yet the level of physical engagement in kihon, kata and kumite (when performed with speed and power which is always the end objective) makes the class too strenuous and damaging for seniors like me.

“Perhaps you should have two classes: one focused on the external form of the art, forceful kihon and kumite with kata backing it up; the other inclining to the internal art, centred around mindful, low-adrenalin study of the kata?”

Sensei: “Had we but world enough and time! It won't have escaped your notice that ninety five percent of people who attend karate class want to develop effective combat capability. Those who lose the physicality to train migrate across to T'ai Chi, as do those who are primarily interested in health or spiritual matters.

“So I believe you'll find what you need in T'ai Chi. I regret that I can't run a health and spiritual class founded on karate technique and kata; I simply can't afford the opportunity cost.” 

A psychotherapist intervenes.

Psychotherapist: “Nigel, you are just driven and you aren't even aware of it. You are bereft unless you can latch onto a goal, then focus all your efforts on attaining it. You are too old for karate! Get over it - let it go!

“You know the T'ai Chi form, you know the T'ai Chi sword form. Practise them when you want to, otherwise don't bother. You don't need a schedule, you don't need a plan to continually 'get better', there is nothing to achieve.

“Relax, and enjoy the people in your life. In fact, grow up!”

Me: “Thank you Sensei and wise counsellor. I see now that you are both wholly in the right.”

I pass my first karate grading

After the grading: orange belt - 9th kyu

Two and a half months after starting Traditional Shotokan Karate, I passed my first grading last night and now have my orange belt. I am absurdly pleased!

Paul, a brown belt, said to me afterwards with a wry smile: "Welcome to the ladder of hell!"

The Sensei was extremely helpful in this first grading (I got most things right) and confided that he had hated all his gradings: "Except one time, when I was taking my second dan back in 1995. I suddenly realised half way through I was enjoying it."

I was of course nervous beforehand, even though it's really hard to fail your first grading. You really want to display all the skills you think you have, and not be flustered.

The next phase of training focuses on the first of the Heian katas, Heian Shodan.

Heian Shodan