“the kata is only an ouside symbol that represents the inside. So you must understand the inside; if not then you are only a puppet doing a movement with no meaning” Hidetaka Nishiyama, Kudan, head of the ITKF
“For the pre-modern or classical martial artist, kata practice was not just an empty routine performed for aesthetically appealing reasons. It was instead a complicated training ritual used to instill martial behaviour patterns that were critical to their survival. Kata and the use of pre-arranged routines, allowed the classical martial artist to preserve techniques and behaviours that had proved successful in mortal combat” Michael Rosenbaum “Kata and the Transmission of Knowledge in Traditional Martial Arts”
As I mentioned in my last article, I have long since retired from debating the relative value of kata. I no longer argue whether kata forms an vast encyclopedia of fighting techniques versus an archaic bunch of martially inspired folk dances best preserved for public demonstrations of performance art. Either you believe in kata or you don’t and I am not the guy to argue the point. I just don’t have the credentials nor the patience. The entire remainder of this text will be dedicated to the assumption that kata represents martial knowledge passed down from real fighters of the past to us clowns in our starched white uniforms. If you see kata as little more than something to pass your belt rank with, then you can just skip on down to the bibliography and close the book.
Most people consider “the doldrums” to be a descriptive word for a state of boredom or unproductive inactivity. Few people realize that the term actually refers to a specific geographic area of the Pacific or Atlantic oceans that centers around the equator. “The Doldrums” result from a peculiar combination of the Earth’s rotation and the Earth’s climate which create an area of the ocean where the wind either whithers to an inconsequential puff or blows with the terror of a tropical typhoon. In the days of the great sailing fleets a ship of the line could get caught in the doldrums, becalmed for weeks at a time, drifting at the mercy of the weak equatorial currents and the will of the fickle Gods. In the “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” Samuel Taylor Coleridge describes the despair of the dying sailors as they floated helpless, burned by the noonday sun, surrounded by water, yet not having a drop of water to drink. The ship was adrift, with no destination on the horizon and no wind to fill it’s sails and give it freedom. Such is the case of kata training today: the collected kata are drifting with each passing generation, slowly losing meaning and recognizable form as we continue to use them merely as superficial demonstration vehicles. Without realistic applications the kata are losing any utility and without utility they will cease to have true use. Having killed the Albatross, the Ancient Mariner was damned to sail without hope of safe harbour; we are killing the core of our karate and unless we change course, we will be damned to continuing mindless repetitions of martial dance we hardly understand.
Most of what follows is gleaned from several sources, the majority of the historical references being from either Harry Cooks “Shotokan Karate: A Precise History” or from Donn Draeger’s “Classical Budo”. If you really wish to understand how kata has become the mess we practice now, you really need to do the historical research yourself. I plan on giving you my heavily opinionated version here, mostly because it feeds well into the rest of my discussion.
What I call “the devolution of kata” is the result of a perfect storm of history combined with human nature. History, in the form of war, conquest and cultural influence has both altered the kata forms and hidden the true kata applications. The all too human vices of suspicion, avarice, sloth and myopia also have played their part in the slow death of what was once the core of our martial art. As a preamble to this discussion I would like to illustrate what I believe to be the truth of the origins of kata and how they might naturally “drift” from their true forms.
I personally agree with the author and karate instructor Bill Burgar when he suggest that kata is a mnemonic training tool to aid in the preservation and instruction of a student in the ways of martial arts. His contemporary , Michael Rosenbaum, as quoted above, suggests that the use of kata can be dated back into the stone age, probably originating around the fires of our cave dwelling ancestors as they passed the oral history of the tribe from elder to youth. If these gentlemen are correct, the progenitors of our karate kata were successful (or at least well self-promoted) fighters who had a few basic principles which they chose to pass onto a few students. In most cultures, the exact preservation of oral histories is a matter of great pride. The oral histories are usually in the form of rhythmic rhyme and dance, often so to not only impart some underlying tribal principle, but to also give the audience an essence of the importance of the sacred truths within the history. Furthermore, the rhythmic nature of the dances aids in their memorization, much the same way we all used stupid little poems to remember equations in high school math and chemistry.
In martial arts, the instructor typically had a very few students under his direct instruction. Each student was stridently taught to learn the by exact repetition of the master’s movements. The learning process is generally termed “Shu Ha Ri”. In very simple terms, “Shu Ha Ri” represents the three levels of understanding within a martial art. “Shu” is the beginner who learns by rote and repetition, without question or assumption. “Ha” is the advanced beginner who has understanding of the essential principles and may self-correct within the framework of what he has been taught, while “Ri” represents mastery and perhaps transcendence of form. This all comes back to my earlier statement that the goal is not to learn what the master knows, the goal is to seek what the master was looking for when he started down ”the Way”. The question in my reader’s mind at this point must be “what the hell this has to do with kata drift?”. Well, it’s all about the transcendence of form; when we individually reach that point and what it really means.
Within any group of students training at a martial arts school, you are likely to meet five basic different personalities. The first group are the talented traditionalists, the second group will be the talented innovators, while the third will be the untalented but steadfast. The fourth group, the most common, will be the quitters, while the last group will be the artistic performers. The talented traditionalists will learn everything the master has to teach exactly how the master teaches it and will be unwilling to deviate from that way for the entirety of their life. This group is most likely to preserve and protect the basic principles of the style, including the moves and applications of the kata. The talented innovators will learn everything the master has to teach, but may transcend the basic curriculum of the school, creating their own spin on the style and kata of that style. These innovators are most likely to alter the form of the style to fit either their own perception of martial arts or the requirements for changing circumstances. The third group, fairly common to see in every dojo (I likely fall into this group) are the untalented but steadfast. We tend to learn everything the master has to teach and we will endeavour to pass that knowledge on without alteration, but we are limited by our own physical or mental inequities. The fourth group, the quitters, are easily the most common martial artist. These guys rarely complete their training in any style, leaving each school often before they actually perfect or even learn any of the most important principles. These guys are simple dabblers and are unlikely to ever pass on anything of true value to the next generation. Finally, the artistic performers are captivated by the “art” in the martial arts These artists may be talented and may actually be excellent martial artists, but they are more than willing to add a little flourish to everything they do for simple aesthetic value. These groups, taken by themselves, have little effect on “kata drift”. On the other hand, once the members of these groups leave the master and become instructors themselves is when the entire essence of the style may be effected.
The talented traditionalists represent the true and original form of the style. Unfortunately now, nearly two hundred years after Matsumura, we have no idea which modern school remains true to the “Way”. You have to keep in mind that within each generation of each school the same five groups existed, so there is no telling who stayed on the path and who deviated. On the other hand, perhaps that is unimportant because the path of the talented innovators likely has not only preserved the old ways but improved them to match the modern times. Of course, within both groups are going to be souls such as me: untalented by well instructed. My students, as long as they strive for their own perfection rather than slavishly copying my personal style, are just as likely to meet or exceed the standards of the original style. It must be emphasized that the relative athletic talent of the instructor is no measure of the quality of the school; it’s all about the quality of the instruction itself. The schools that deviate the most from the true path are going to be those of the quitters or dabblers. Because these martial artists never had the intestinal fortitude to actually complete their tuition in any style, they cannot possibly pass on the principles of that style in total; they can’t because they never learned them. The schools of the quitters are best represented by the modern day strip-mall “McDojo” which teaches a little of everything and as a result, perfects nothing. Finally, the artisans of the crowd, ever ready to perform and please some spectators, may actually alter the style profoundly as they pass on their own artistic variation of the kata without explaining to students that it represents showmanship rather than useful application. We all should seriously consider how the interaction of personality and instruction has altered our karate as each succeeding generation of karateka has passed on his variation to his own students.
The loss of appropriate applications to our kata is likely the result of generational kata drift. There are numerous historical examples of either innovative alterations or simple incomplete transmission. Consider for example the Shotokan standard katas of the Heian (Pinan) series. Most sources agree that Itosu Ankoh created the Heian kata as an introduction to karate kata to be taught in high school physical education classes. The Pinan series, while demonstrating most of the basic principles of karate, were never actually meant to be cohesive fighting system as the older kata such as Kwanku (Kanku Dai, Kushanku) were meant to be. They were, in fact, meant to be calisthenic exercises with a martial flavour. Of course, the similarities between Kanku Dai and the Pinan kata cannot be overlooked; it is likely that the Pinan kata were derived from Kanku Dai (or it’s original progenitor). On the other hand, if you study an even older kata sequence called “Channan” originally taught (presumably to his student Itosu) by Matsumura Sokon, the resemblance becomes absolute and impossible to ignore. “Channan” can be traced back to a Southern Chinese Wushu form called “Chiang-Nan”. Here we have at least three passages of a kata from the original form with absolutely no proof that the original applications were ever taught at each passage. Shinpan Gusukuma, an original student of Itosu Ankoh, admitted that he did not know many of the applications of the kata he learned from Itosu. He explained that Itosu himself did not know all the applications and had felt that many of the movements were merely for aesthetic appeal and little else. This opinion may actually be the truth and is likely the result of a process that was in action long before karate ever entered the Western World.
Donn Draeger, in his excellent book “Classical Budo” discusses the distinct difference between bujutsu, the tactics of the warrior, and budo, the way of the warrior. These two similar terms actually represent companion but contrasting ways of thought. Without rewriting his entire thesis (I certainly am not capable of this, nor am I worthy), he basically views bujutsu as the martial schools that developed out of the battle tested strategies and techniques of the true warrior. These styles, in a reflection of Helmut von Moltke’s statement, are all about expediency. The warrior, in battle, does what he has to do to survive rather than what he wants to. On the other hand, after the ascendancy of the Tokugawa Shogunate with it’s two centuries of enforced peace, the utility of these battle tested techniques was questionable. Separated from the reality of the battle field, the warrior class, what we call the Samurai, had to find new applications for their martial training. The goals of the martial ways became self improvement rather than self defense. Budo was all about finding perfection of character within perfection of form. Certainly, within the budo training we can find very viable self defense techniques, but they are often hidden within formal disciplines dedicated to development of the mind-body connection. Readers interested in this entire process should read both Draeger’s essay and Rosenbaum’s masterpiece “Kata and the Transmission of Knowledge”. Modern day martial arts did not avoid this quantum shift of attitude, they were born right into the middle of it. Consider the first line in Funakoshi’s “Dojo Kun” : “hitotsu, jinkaku kansei ni tsutomeru koto” or “first, seek perfection of character”.
History has other ways of muddying the waters. Any karate historian will tell you that much of what we call karate actually originated in Southern China, but was heavily altered and flavoured by the original Okinawan martial art known simply as “Te”. Simply put, we should probably accept karate as a grass roots Okinawan martial art. The real changes to karate probably occurred once it was imported from Okinawa to Japan at the turn of the last century. There are several records of old Okinawan masters commenting (or complaining about) the dramatic changes after the “Japanification” of karate. Just considering the changes in stances evidenced by comparing the upright, shorter stances of Funakoshi Gichin to the longer, deeper stances of his son Funakoshi Yoshitaka makes one pause in wonder if they were indeed practicing the same art. Many of these changes were likely the result of exposure to Japanese martial arts such as Maniwa Nen-ryu Kenjutsu which prefers a very deep and long stance, selecting stability over mobility. Of course, comparisons of old Okinawan kata to modern Japanese kata could fill an entire text-book: the name changes alone could confuse Einstein.
The devastation of World War Two played a large part of the loss of kata applications. The original “Shotokan” dojo burnt down during the bombing and fires of Tokyo, while the battlefields killed many of the first generation of Japanese karateka. In 1945, in a conquered nation where karate had to wear the guise of little more than a cultural dance, the old masters were either gone or no longer able to finish the instruction of a new generation. Funakoshi himself was nearly eighty at the end of the war and actually participated very little in the direct instruction of students in his final years. Nakayama returned to Japan after the war, but, at that point, had spent many years as a military attache in Southern China, separated from the core of karate and studying alternatives such as Tai Chi Chuan. Similar scenarios were played out in every karate dojo throughout Japan and Okinawa; maybe especially Okinawa where the sharp end of the American invading force had made landfall.
Of course, WWII had other, perhaps unforeseen, effects on karate. The American occupation of Okinawa and Japan introduced karate to an entirely new audience. Once the primary hurdles of cultural misunderstanding were overcome, G.I Joe adopted karate with a passion that only a homesick young man with no possibility of romance on the horizon can. Unfortunately, the soldiers were often only stationed overseas for very short periods; far too short to completely understand and internalize even a small proportion of this new and exciting fighting style. Many of the new karateka returned to America with fresh, stiff bunny-eared black belts, determined to open their own schools and pass on their newly minted knowledge to their own students. On the other hand, after the war karate also started to develop in the Japanese universities as a team sport. The nature of the university experience flavoured the karate of the day. New recruits often entered the university dojo either with no previous knowledge or alternative knowledge of martial arts (often kendo or Judo). These students had to learn the entire curriculum during their four years at university, usually graduating senior members of the black belts in their fourth year. It was often from among these talented seniors that the current, most famous Japanese instructors were selected. Fresh white belt to senior black belt and instructor, all while getting an education during their four university years. Think about it. Furthermore, the pressures of competition had their influence on kata performance. An excellent example of this can be found in the Shotokan black-belt kata Nijushiho. Originally, Nijushiho included two stomping kicks (fumikomi geri) from kiba dachi. In the mid-fifties, while attending the JKA instructor’s class Asai Sensei and Okazaki Sensei altered these kicks to Yoko Geri Kekomi because “they were young, strong and flexible and the kicks looked cool!” Asai Sensei later performed the kekomi geri variation in competition, became a champion, and thus the form was permanently altered. Without a doubt the kekomi kicks are far more difficult and much more aesthetically pleasing versus the original stomps, but as a practical application, they are hardly useful. If the reader needs yet more illustration of how competition is changing kata, one merely needs to look at just about any kata demonstration found on “You Tube”: all very dramatic, but many little more than artistic performance filled with dramatic pauses and histrionic screams.
The advent of the Internet with it’s absolutely vast amount of unedited information has created yet another previously unseen method of devolution for just about all the martial arts. Deluded individuals can convince themselves that they are “learning” an entire martial art while picketed in front of a computer screen. They believe they are perfecting a highly technical, traditional physical art form while sitting upon their ever-enlarging ass sucking up radiation from their monitor. There’s a pathetic thought. This sort of fraudulent tuition is, in many ways, worse than the quitter-dabbler schools: it gives merely a cheap facsimile of knowledge rather than any real experience. The modern day multi-disciplined McDojo at least gives the student something physically real. Check out sometime the medieval and early Renaissance illustrations of “sea monsters” and “mythical beasts” found in the travel logs of early world explorers. These illustrations were artist’s renditions of written descriptions of real animals glimpsed for mere moments by frightened or amazed men travelling in lands far from home and miles off the beaten path. These illustrations barely resemble any current or extinct creature and are often more akin to the dragons, gryphons, and chimera of Greek and Norse mythology. These are the result of second hand interpretation of questionable first hand experience. This is exactly how the Internet dojo will effect martial arts if we allow it: we will eventually have modern “masters” who have learned all they know from the most questionable source of information in the world: the unedited and likely biased Internet.
Of course, there are other reasons the kata have lost their meaning, some of them directly attributable to the kata themselves, or more specifically, how we practitioners choose to interpret them. When I was young and karate was an open book I was told that each kata represented a series of attacks from multiple directions by multiple assailants. Within that framework everything I learned was taken as literal truth: a block was always just a block ,a punch was always just a punch and we were always striking rather than grappling. The result of this very rigid method of study was a mishmash of impractical defenses against unlikely attacks. In this form the kata are not just useless, they are actually detrimental to learning any self-defense techniques that may be hidden in the kata. If we want to make the kata meaningful to our students, instructors need to emphasize that kata is actually NOT a dramatized shadow fighting sequence but it is actually a codified teaching vehicle designed to preserve and pass on effective techniques, movements and strategies. I would like to touch base on a few superficial points here as they pertain to the devolution of kata, but I will expand these points in later in future segments.
Each kata has a specific embusen or performance line. Simplistically, the embusen represents the attack direction of each sequential assailant and for the most part they do work well in this fashion. On the other hand, even the most naive karateka will have to admit that many of the embusen are impractical and actually defy any effort to make them applicable in real combat. Go back to what they really are: teaching vehicles limited by the classroom and the instructor. Most of the original kata instruction was done on a one-to-one basis in the very small back yard of the master. The embusen of each kata were always limited by simple geometry: they had to fit the dojo dimensions. Furthermore, we also need to remember that kata was and is a form of demonstration; it needs to be visually clear and concise so the observer can follow all of the movements in detail. By altering the embusen of specific kata and perhaps inserting specific coded movements to signify a directional change where none actually occurs, the performance becomes more concise and precise, therefor easier to assess and critique.
Consider the Tekki/ Naihanchi/ Nifuanchi kata series: perfectly linear and all in kiba-dachi or shiko-dachi. This form is hardly applicable for “real” fighting (unless we get tremendously creative and start discussing fighting in narrow back alleys or on the deck of a fishing boat, two suggestions that have been brought forth to explain the Tekki series). On the other hand, if we look closely we see several points where the transitional phase has a cross step; extrapolating from Aikido, a cross-step often signifies a body turn in place to “enter” the attack at a different angle.
On a lighter note, some of the kata embusen, when drawn out in detail, actually can form the shapes of the Chinese Kanji used to form parts of their names. As an example, take the Heian/ Pinan series (the only one I actually know that does this for sure). If you take the embusen of the first thee kata of the series and combine them, then take the embusen of the last two kata of the series and combine them, then invert the last combination end for end, you will end up with two figures that look suspiciously like traditional Chinese kanji. The first kanji is pronounced, in Japanese, as “hei” while the second kanji would be pronounced “an”; combine the two characters and they form “Heian”. That is just so cool, but I admit that it does take a bit of imagination and eye squinting to see the effect. If this little aside is true, then one should have little problem explaining why the embusen make little sense: they were modified heavily to create the kanji rather than mimic a fight.
On the other hand, some of the kata embusen may be imparting strategy rather than directionality. Back in our sections on kumite I discussed the concept of tai sabaki in detail. Perhaps some of the embusen, rather than suggesting that we are turning to meet an attacker coming from a specific angle, are suggesting that we turn ourselves to meet an frontal attack from an angle. Look at the most simple example I can think of, the first move of Heian Shodan/ Pinan nidan. Beginners are told that the first move represents an intercepting block from a lunging body attack from the left. The question that should be asked immediately is “why am I not facing my assailant if I am being attacked?”. Well, perhaps you are; perhaps the assailant is attacking you from the front and the kata embusen is telling you to intercept the attack, turn the assailant ninety degrees to the left with your block and attack his weak axis with your follow-up attack. This would likely be a superior strategy and thus may be a better explanation of the movement. That is assuming we wish to stick with the literal application of the block as “just a block”. More on that concept as we progress.
Some of the sequencing in the kata tends to cloud the waters with regards to applications. In many kata we see repetitive blocks in sequence or the same blocks with minor alterations. It just does not make sense to perform three rising blocks sequentially if we are hide-bound to the traditional concept of kata as a sequential fight demonstration. On the other hand, if we go back to our “kata as a teaching vehicle” concept, then repetitive motions make great sense. The nature of any training program, especially karate, is repetition.
As an example of how this may work, let’s go back to Heian Shodan again. The first two movement sequences are block and punch left, then block, hammer fist strike and punch right. Here is a perfect example of two variations on the same theme: we use both left and right (it is important that the proficient fighter attempt to keep his body skills balanced between left and right, regardless of his dominant hand) and we also use a subtle variation from the left side to the right side: we add in the hammer fist strike. The hammer fist strike actually includes an escape from a grip followed by an immediate flowing counter-attack. In the most simple explanation of these two sequences (there are many, far better and more sensible applications for these simple sequences) the progenitors are saying “train left and right equally, and have a plan “B” if plan “A” is not successful”. That is pretty good training advice.
Heian Shodan also includes three rising blocks in a row down the first long leg of the embusen. I can remember how crazy I thought the first applications I was taught for this sequence appeared: I was driving in rising blocks against my assailant who is… stepping away from me as he punches?. Ridiculous. On the other hand, if I dispense with the rising block as “a block” and look at it as “an attack” then the sequence starts to make sense, especially if I look at the entire sequence through the big turn at the end of that arm of the embusen. Consider the first part of this segment: we downward block to the front, then immediately lift that blocking arm head high as the traditional “guide arm” (which become hikite), we then step in rising block. How about this thought: the “guide arm” is actually the real block, intercepting a head attack, then the apparent block becomes a forearm strike to the throat, face or the elbow of the offending arm. Of course the “hikite” has grabbed the attacking arm, pulling the assailant into your incoming forearm strike. Now this is looking a little realistic. The second part of the sequence then becomes merely practice of the concept. Take this one step farther though: now the big turn into downward at the end of the embusen arm becomes logical: we soften the opponent by slamming his throat, then we spin on our axis and throw him to the ground, quickly following up with a finishing blow to his now much lower head. Here the entire sequence is saying “here are the set-up techniques, repeat them so you know them, and then they will lead to the final, finishing throw and blow”.
This leads us to the timing and sequencing of many of the techniques. Bill Burgar, in his book “Five Years, One Kata” suggests that repetitive sequencing within a kata may suggest that the karateka should find alternative applications for each appearance of a specific technique or posture within a kata. He quite successfully demonstrates this approach as it applies to the Shotokan version of Goju-Shiho Sho: this kata has some very specific movements appear and re-appear throughout the kata and he manages to find alternative applicators for each.
Typically we all practice kata with a machine-gun type staccato rhythm, punctuated by various pauses and the odd slow motion movement. The slow movements are always difficult to assess and new students often find them to be some of the largest stumbling blocks when trying to see the utility of the kata. Again, you need to go back to the “kata as a teaching vehicle” concept to justify slow actions within a kata. The primary reason I see for slow actions is the demonstration of perfect form. Keeping in mind the nature of human observation: rapid movements tend to give general impressions rather than detailed observation. Moving at high speed, the karateka can “hide” many deficiencies of their form. Slowing the action down will almost always uncover weaknesses in either application, alignment, or stance. Slowing the action down allows the instructor to correct the student before too many faults accumulate. The second reason that kata may include slow actions is related to difficulty of application. Under high-stress situation such as an unprovoked attack, the ability to perform complex physical manipulations pretty much disappears. Complex actions require Beta brain wave action (thinking) and we have already said that thinking while fighting gets you killed. Complicated movements such as arm-bars and joint manipulations require exacting movements with strict adherence to both your own and your opponents body position and joint angles. If you deviate even just a little bit from those parameters, then the opponent is likely to “slip” the compliance application and be able to counter-attack from a very dangerous distance. In these cases, the student must apply the action slowly every time to completely internalize those very exacting parameters. Having said that, it also suggests that the instructor needs to teach the application of those moves correctly so the student may train with intent each time he trains. The third reason that we may do something slowly is that it really would be done slowly in application. Think of the “parting blocks” (kakiwake uke): these blocks may be applied against a strong person who has a firm grip either on your neck or on your clothing (lapels): as you perform this movement you may actually be driving the assailant back and “parting” his arms enough to allow you your own attack. The final reason for slow actions, not to be overlooked but to be minimized, is for aesthetic value. We do need to keep in mind at all times that kata is, and always will be, a demonstration of karate. If you really want to have your demonstration make an impact it needs to be visually appealing: the break of kata rhythm from fast and staccato to slow and fluid is very appealing and has far more artistic impact.
Finally, before we get into the “meat and potatoes” of kata analysis, we need to look once more at what karate and kata actually are. If you take the time to read Rosenbaum’s “Kata and the Transmission of Knowledge” and maybe follow that up with Draeger’s “Classical Budo” you will understand that karate, by strict definition, is NOT a martial art. The true definition of “martial art” is an fighting art that developed out of battlefield applications. Fighting sequences from ancient Greek battle craft, Roman Legion training or indeed, modern army training can be considered to be “martial arts” because they pertain to and are applicable to wartime conflict. The easiest way to figure out if a ”fighting art” is a “martial art” is if they involve real weapons. Since we first crawled out of the trees man had used weapons to kill each other and it is absolutely natural for us to defend ourselves with the first available weapon. Interviews with modern soldiers confirm that their first concern prior to going to war is the state of their assault rifle and how many rounds of ammunition they can practically carry into the field. Their ability to throw a punch is likely somewhere below “clean, dry socks” on their list of important things to take to war. No, truthfully, karate is a civil fighting method, designed completely for self-defense against an untrained ruffian in the relative peace of civilian life. The key point here is that the karate defenses are designed to be used against an untrained, civilian attacker. This point has been made in just about every book on karate and kata applications ever wrote, and yet the majority of the training drills we use for kata applications are based on standard karate attacks such as the step-in punch. The applications done this way do not work or do not make any sense whatsoever. This is no great wonder really: if you use the wrong tool for the wrong task, you are highly unlikely to get the right result.
For example, let’s look at Heian Nidan (Pinan Shodan). The first sequence involves a double high block (haiwan uke) in either kokutsu-dachi or neko-ashi-dachi, followed quickly by a nagashi uke/mawashi tetsui-uchi combination, followed immediately by a straight tetsui-uchi with the lead hand. The standard application I was taught was that the attacker leads from the left with a straight punch to the face, which I successfully block with the lead hand of the haiwan-uke. The back hand of the haiwan-uke is “held waiting in ready position”, essentially doing nothing. The attacker now reverse punches to my face, which I miraculously anticipate, block with the nagashi-uke and I manage to nearly break his arm with my spectacular mawashi tetsui-uchi. I then finish the devil with a hammer fist strike to the body.
All this is just so damned unlikely!! Look at it realistically: I have the ability to successfully block the first punch, but I illogically hold my free hand high in the air in preparation to….what? In what world do we hold one hand up over our head in preparation to strike? Following this, by some miracle of mind reading, I just know that my attacker is going to punch with his other hand to my face, so I automatically block it and attack the limb. Let’s get this straight: my attacker is going to attack with a trained karate punch, but when I respond by leaving my body completely unguarded to protect my face, he is going to overlook the body attack and go for the face again. And I am going to anticipate this? Finally, with a small body movement and a relatively soft technique I am going to “break his arm” with my mawashi-tetsui-uchi. Santa Clause is more realistic. Of course, maybe we should look at all this some other way: one karateka suggested to me not so long ago that the haiwan-uke represented simultaneous attacks from two assailants, both using standard stepping in attacks to the head. In this little scenario the defender deals successfully with the attacker to the left by “breaking his arm”, and just completely ignores the attacker on the frontal plane. My God, how unreal do we want to make this?
How about we look at the best, most likely scenario: we have one attacker in front of us, he swings with a typical, street style round house punch, arcing past our lead hand (hence it’s name “round-house punch”) and coming to stop on the raised, rear hand of the haiwan uke. In this scenario we are using the lead hand to … attack of course. We stepped in, thus we are not necessarily in a defense mode at all. We have one hand above our brow, clearly blocking something, while the other is striking out to somebody directly in front of us. This is realistic fighting. Now I am not saying that this is the only application for this sequence, it is just one of the best I have seen. It makes sense and it works in the circumstances that karate was originally designed for: the untrained hoodlum attack.
There is really only one more step to cover before we start looking at the real nuts and bolts of kata applications. As suggested above, the most likely applications for kata are going to be defenses against an untrained attacker in a sudden, unexpected attack. These applications will not be about “sparring”, which suggests some sort of duel between two opponents, but they will be about attacks you can expect from the average bar-room thug, full of beer and spoiling for a little Saturday night entertainment. If we really want to find the right key for kata applications we need to look for the right door and the right house: these applications will be against a few typical civilian attacks and will have to be applicable under severe psychological distress. I guess we need to discuss the mindset and tactics of the attacker (the right door) and the likely state and capability of the defender (the right house).
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