Has karate got an image problem?
Are we presenting ourselves in the right light? Just how good are we at representing what we do in terms of our relevance in the current age?
First – The problem; signs and symptoms.
Not long ago one of our Dan grades was doing the school run and chatting with other mums at the school gates. “So, what are you doing this weekend?” asked one of the mums, “I’m off to a karate course actually”. “Oh, you do karate?” (surprised expression), “I thought that was for kids?”.
I’m guessing that for her karate as an activity was in the same league as majorettes or cheerleading?
Obviously, that is one example, one person’s view; but is it an indication of something bigger?
Is karate seen as a hobbyist activity, one of so many that it gets lost in the crowd?
As seen from outside.
I often wonder what happens when members of the wider public encounter karate people; what goes through their minds? For me, the most interesting examples happen in those big sports centres, where maybe people who have booked in for an hour of squash suddenly find themselves encountering white-uniformed groups of people, sometimes en masse (like a big competition or a major course) or sometimes alone in a changing room. What goes through their brain?
I found myself in such a situation recently. One evening, in a changing room I was engrossed in fastening up my hakama only to look up and see a badminton player sneaking curious glances in my direction; to him I probably looked like some kind of alien creature or cosplay freak. I think the right thing for him to do was just ask the question, but, I suppose, he was just too reserved – I would have been only too happy to oblige. In that case, did he have go-to points of reference (beyond cosplay)?
What might other martial artists think?
The other side of the coin is the image we present to other martial artists, not necessarily from the wider karate fraternity but people we might assume are in the same zone as us.
As an example; for quite a few years we trained in a newly founded martial arts centre; a business crafted by an entrepreneurial enthusiast with the will and the money to do it. A nice space, well-equipped and fully matted. However, the timetabling was tight; evening classes were booked end to end, so it was important that they started and finished on time.
Before our slot was a kickboxing class. As is natural in these situations, we would arrive slightly early and watch the kickboxers finish off their workout. I found it really interesting, watching their technique and how they worked the heavy bags etc. (strangely, I never saw them spar, it was very much about having a workout. Maybe they did that at another time).
But, on another level, I found myself looking at them individually and as a group and how they engaged with their activity. Firstly, they were all guys, there were no women; maybe there were practical reasons for this, not necessarily cultural reasons – I am prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt on that one. Secondly, they were all within the same age bracket, and to my thinking many of them looked like bearded Vikings with tattoos. Another curious point, I don’t think I saw any of them smile, it was all so earnest.
As we stood on the side-lines watching; waiting for them to wrap up their class and leave the mat, the contrast couldn’t have been more different; there we were with crisply ironed white keikogi, with a clearly different (older) age demographic and probably 50% female. As these sweaty grizzled Vikings left the mat, we politely hedged around them, but, surprisingly I also picked up subtle and not so subtle indications of distain. I thought I was imagining it, but I suspect that some of them looked at us as if we were interlopers on their territory, both physically and philosophically. Maybe it was just one or two individuals, maybe they were so jacked-up on adrenalin (or testosterone), or maybe it was just in my head? (Clearly, they didn’t see us at the end of a tough session where crisp white keikogis had turned into a sweaty mess).
The bigger picture – looking through the wrong end of the telescope.
All of this got me thinking. Why would anyone put themselves forward to do what we do? How does it work? Do you just wake up one day and say “Hey, I want to join the ranks of the white-clad people in the sports centre!”? Or, maybe the idea of training in the martial arts is an itch you have been yearning to scratch? Or even that you’d had sand kicked in your face by the bully on the beach, and then spent too much time despondently looking at your less-than-impressive physique in the mirror? (Tick one, or any of the boxes that apply).
It is all influenced by how we present ourselves; just what is our shop-window? For example, what would convince a kickboxer that what we have is worthy of his curiosity, and would not prompt his dismissal or scorn?
The insider’s view is always biased, so much so that we often find ourselves tongue-tied when asked to explain what it is that we do… ‘Isn’t it obvious?’… well, no, it’s not. Then, disappointingly, we find ourselves blathering on with the same old tired tropes, ‘self-defence, ‘confidence’, ‘fitness’ yadda yadda.
I have been in that position myself; cornered and asked to explain, to justify, and I have always failed the test. I struggle to find the words and don’t seem to be able to secure the connection; the entry point is always elusive and any common ground or common language is completely beyond my grasp. All this, even though I consider myself reasonably articulate and have spent my entire working life as a communicator – it’s quite embarrassing really.
In Japan.
I wish I had more information on this, but snippets regarding the image of martial artists and karate people in particular inside Japan, have reached my ears, and it seems that it’s not just western karate people who have this image problem.
I think if you were to unpick it you would find it goes all the way back to at least the 1920’s, when Japanese karate was struggling to gain some kind of foothold. Not to put too fine a point on it, this Okinawan ‘fist method’ was sneered upon by the ultra-conservative established Japanese martial arts authorities, which I always found ironic, as they themselves were having to compromise their own principles and restructure their methods all to hold back the tide of cultural attrition threatening to wipe away the their ancient traditions in a tsunami of modernisation.
What was it that the conservatives didn’t like about this imported system? Well, everything really, starting with the fact that it was imported. They didn’t like that its so-called ‘system’ had only the barest of structures and I get the feeling that one of the things they disliked most of all is that they trained in their underwear! (The lack of a dignified and standardised training uniform). ‘Sort these things out boys and we might just let you in the club’.
But, even then, when they had more than a foot in the door their position in the perceived hierarchy of the full range of Japanese martial arts has remained pretty low. It was explained to me that karate is still considered a blue collar activity; while the white collar types pursue Iaido or Kyudo, the real aristocrats of Japanese martial arts.
And, in Japan today; the impression I get is that people pursuing martial arts are either considered a curious anachronism, or, in the case of karate, an almost thuggish throwback. Someone told me that when Kyokushinkai karate founder Mas Oyama was elevated to a comic book and fiction hero, it seemed to play into the established prejudices and had the opposite effect to that intended.
I am reminded of a quote from Robert Twigger’s excellent book recounting his time training on the aikido course for the Tokyo riot police, ‘Angry White Pyjamas’, “Sara thought martial arts were pretty silly. To a trendy young Japanese, aikido was about as sexy as Morris Dancing”. For anyone who doesn’t know what Morris Dancing is, watch this:
Conclusion.
Over lock-down I did a lot of thinking about the whole issue, of how we present ourselves and how to truly explain the worth of what we do as martial artists, karateka and even Wado practitioners. I consulted and studied many different sources, including authors, business people, entrepreneurs and futurologists. I am convinced we just don’t explain ourselves well.
I did come up with some solid conclusions, and a clear pathway started to appear; perhaps I will share some of these ideas on future posts.
Main image: Stills from Jim Carrey’s ‘karate instructor sketch’.
For the whole hilarious clip, watch here: