The Homogenization of Technique

I was thinking about this the other day...our tendency to homogenize things that are similar, how over time we smooth out the edges and look for commonalities until we've erased the differences altogether. That may be overstating the case, but it got me to thinking.

I was out for a walk in the woods, engaging in a bit of "woods bathing," one of my favorite activities, when I found myself thinking about the time my father "borrowed" my rock collection. I think I must have been seven or eight years old. My father was helping out the Boy Scouts with their Klondike Derby. My older brother was in the scout troop--he would go on to become an eagle scout and I would become a scout dropout, never really comfortable with dressing up as a para-military youth gang, though the questionable leadership of our assistant scout master was probably more to blame, either that or the '60s. Anyway, the Klondike Derby was a sort of winter carnival with the scouts dragging sleds through the snow, completing tasks, and accumulating "gold nuggets." Of course, someone needed to supply the "gold nuggets," and that was the job my father took on. He "borrowed" the big Lincoln Log barrel I had filled up with my special rock collection, spread them all out on his work bench, and spray painted them all gold. When I found out, I was distraught. My father didn't understand at the time. He offered to get me more rocks, but this was a collection of "special" rocks that I had been collecting for quite some time. They were just rocks I had found on the road or in the woods, but they were all special to a little kid. And they were all different...at least until they all got a thick coat of gold paint.

I wasn't consciously thinking about childhood events or kicking up "special" stones hidden under the fall leaves. I was just sort of wondering about that unique quality that all things have, especially things that seem similar. You really notice it in the fall, when the trails are covered with leaves. Late in the season, when all the leaves have turned brown, they all seem to be the same unless you look closely. Then, you can't find any two that are really exactly the same. The trails up around Fitzgerald Lake are mostly covered with oak leaves, but still they're all different.

Beginning movement of
the mawashi uke.

I suppose as humans we have this natural tendency to generalize. We need to generalize in order to identify things, even to recognize people from one day to the next. But really what all of this brought to mind--as any good walk in the woods will certainly do--is whether we do this with technique in kata, techniques that may look similar, at least to some extent, but are really different. I think this can be especially true if we rely on appearances rather than how something may function. And it can be subtle, creeping in over time, slowly erasing the differences in techniques until all we see is a redundancy, a repetition of familiar basics.

I'm not at all sure how insidious or widespread this tendency to homogenize may be or how it may have affected kata over the years or generations. Certainly when we name techniques in kata, there is the danger that we may be homogenizing movements that are actually quite different, especially if the names we give the movements are meant solely to describe the look of the movement rather than how it is used.

Beginning movement of
the other one.

Take the mawashi techniques that occur in the classical kata, for example. I believe there are two kinds of mawashi techniques, but I don't think it really helps much to distinguish between them by calling one a mawashi uke and the other tora guchi, as some have done. I will simply describe how they are used. The first of these--one that can legitimately be described as a mawashi uke because it is used as a receiving technique--occurs first at the end of Sanchin kata and then again at the beginning of Suparinpei and again at the end of Tensho. But these three kata, I would argue, are the only time this mawashi uke occurs in the classical subjects. It is distinguishable because it is done in basic stance or sanchin dachi.

The second mawashi-like technique occurs at the end of Saifa, at the end of Seipai, at the end of Seisan, in the middle of Kururunfa and again at the end, and it is shown three times in Suparinpei (interestingly both kinds occur in Suparinpei). Each of these mawashi-like techniques is done in cat stance or neko ashi dachi. The difference is in how they function. This second mawashi-like technique is a finishing technique, meant to twist the head or break the neck of the opponent. These techniques are tacked onto the end of longer bunkai sequences in the classical kata. They function differently from the other mawashi and consequently should be done differently in kata. More specifically, when the mawashi is associated with the cat stance (which itself implies a knee kick), the left hand does not pass under the right elbow or forearm, or, on the other side, the right hand does not pass under the left elbow or forearm. When the mawashi is associated with basic stance or sanchin dachi, the right hand does pass under the left elbow or forearm, or, on the other side, the left hand passes under the right elbow or forearm. What gets confusing, I suppose, is that the end position--both palms facing forward with one hand pointing up and the other pointing down--looks the same, except for the stance.


These are the two kinds of mawashi techniques we see in the classical kata of Goju-ryu, and, on second thought, they probably have nothing to do with rocks and trees and walking in the woods. But when the paths diverge, I can't help thinking of that line from Robert Frost. How does it go?

And so, the method...or how we look at kata

We often bemoan the fact that so many people out there don't seem to see the same things we do. Even when you explain it, people just seem to think that it's just another bunkai. But it's not. There's a method to the madness. But we tend to take that for granted. Or we mention it in passing, as if it's incidental. I was reminded of this by a comment a student made:

Receiving or "uke" technique
from Seipai.

"When it comes to science, peer review generally focuses first on the methodology. The criteria and methods applied to the collection, selection and analysis of data (kata) are presented first. Spend the time to explain the development and application of the methods, as it effectively determines the results (bunkai)." (Narda W.)

Now I have learned the occasional bunkai from various teachers. And I have seen seemingly endless examples of bunkai that individuals have come up with on their own. There are videos on the Internet, pictures in books, and it's a part of every stage demonstration of karate nowadays. But there is no methodology behind the analysis. In each demonstration, the attacker punches and the defender suggests that you could do this, or you could do this, or you could do this. And sometimes these scenarios are quite creative. But this is not a system of self defense.

So what is the method we use in figuring out bunkai? 

Controlling or bridging
technique from Seipai.

When we began a serious inquiry into kata and bunkai, we simply turned around a principle that we had always been taught as students--that is, to attack the center line. It's the same thing, I suppose, as you find in T'ai Chi push hands, finding the opponent's center and then pushing there. So logically we thought that if the attacker is attacking the center line, the defender should step off the center line. The first step then is to look at kata and determine whether it shows how to step off the center line. In more colloquial terms, does it show you how to get out of the way? The way this translates into kata analysis is that the steps and turns in kata take on renewed significance in determining how a technique is applied, where the attack is coming from, and, of course, how to get out of the way. More importantly perhaps, they cannot be ignored. Secondly, it brings with it the corollary that the defender moves in such a way that the attacker is only allowed the one, initial attack. 

This investigation leads one to consider the steps and turns in kata, and where the beginnings and endings of sequences and combinations might be. This may be an assumption--that katas are composed of sequences or combinations--but it arises naturally when we see that the different techniques in kata fall into different categories. There are, on a basic level, defensive actions and offensive actions. But more specifically we begin to see that there are "blocking" or receiving techniques, bridging or controlling techniques, and violent, ballistic, finishing techniques. And that, in essence, is all you need to begin the study of bunkai.

Finishing technique
from Seipai.

There are, however, a number of other caveats we employ while testing out bunkai. The first of these is that the bunkai must follow the kata. That is, in applying the technique, it should be done against an opponent the same way it is done in solo kata performance. That includes both the hands and the feet. It includes any steps you would take in kata or any turns that are part of the technique. They should all be shown in the application of the technique. To be honest, at first we had some problems with this strict adherence to kata. We had originally learned the movements of the classical subjects the way they are done in the Shorei-kan tradition (Toguchi sensei). There wouldn't seem to be terribly overt or significant differences between the three or four major schools of Okinawan Goju-ryu, but even some small differences can greatly affect how one sees the application of techniques, and some katas, like Sanseiru, have very pronounced differences. So over time, and after a visit to Okinawa and training in the Shodo-kan tradition, we began to do all of the classical subjects in the manner of Higa Seiko's Shodo-kan. This certainly does not mean that any of the other traditions of Okinawan Goju-ryu are any less authentic or wouldn't lead one to similar results, but the Shodo-kan katas seemed to suit our purposes.

Receiving technique
from Sanseiru kata.

The second caveat is to understand the structure of the kata, though this may be something you discover on your own. The Goju-ryu classical subjects are composed of entry techniques, controlling or bridging techniques, and finishing techniques (as stated above). Each kata is composed of a limited number of sequences or combinations; some have three, some have four, and some have five or six. It is not always easy to figure out where the combinations are since the controlling and finishing techniques are separated in some kata. In some kata, the entry techniques and controlling techniques are shown on both the right and left sides before the finishing techniques are tacked onto the second sequence. Sometimes it is difficult to determine whether a technique is the final technique in a sequence or the beginning of a new sequence--the technique seems to work equally well in both cases. This is true for the final techniques in both Saifa and Seipai, for example. 

Finishing technique from
Sanseiru kata.

The third caveat is that the application of the technique in bunkai should not require excessive physical strength. More often than not, it should only require a thorough and practiced understanding of the technique and very little or no physical strength. If a bunkai seems to require too much physical strength on the part of the defender, we generally abandon the bunkai and start all over again. And usually we have discovered a much better application. After all--and I've said this before--if you're faster and stronger than everyone else, what do you need a system of self-defense for anyway?

And lastly, the application--that is, the full combination of receiving, controlling, and finishing techniques--should be lethal. I don't know how else to say it. Goju-ryu is a system of self-defense, not a sport or "mixed-martial-art-like" activity, with rules and regulations, to be used in mutually agreed upon combat. It was developed for a different age. It may even be a bit anachronistic. But the techniques of this system are meant to finish an encounter, to end a confrontation. They are incredibly violent. Many of the techniques that end a sequence involve breaking the neck of the opponent. These are techniques that you can't really train in bunkai. But that, I believe, is the reality of the bunkai...and the method. 

Weeding the garden

The rains finally let up this week, at least for a day. The mosquitoes are still horrendous but with the sun out they keep mostly in the shade. Of course I had slathered on quite a bit of deet, so that may have been the reason. But what struck me, as I was pulling out Creeping Charlie and blades of grass and all manner of unidentifiable weeds from around the oregano and rosemary and catnip, is that it always seems as though the weeds take over. Why is it that the garbage stuff seems to proliferate and choke out the good stuff? Is that just the natural order of things? I read some place that when humans are gone from the earth it will be the cockroaches that take over. Of course, in the martial arts it may be different....

So I was watching a kung fu class training in the park the other day. Just a few people doing "animal forms." The teacher had said that they should just practice moving like the animal that they were envisioning. I didn't see anyone trying to be a cockroach though. A few people were prowling around being tigers or leopards or some sort of cats. And, of course, there were the obligatory cranes, though in this case I think they were black cranes, at least they were dressed in black. There were snakes, but they were walking upright too. I guess they were snakes before the Fall. It was sort of entertaining for about five minutes, before it started to get silly and irritating. I mean, these were all adults.

But I started to wonder about Goju-ryu kata. I've had a lot of conversations with people--some not so friendly--who steadfastly and adamantly argue that kata can mean whatever you want it to mean; that is, any bunkai/interpretation of kata movement that works is good, supposedly because the katas were created with this sort of intentional ambiguity. Look on the Internet some time and you will find all sorts of different explanations for the same moves in kata. Is everyone right? Or are most of them wrong?

I started to picture a couple of people fooling around in a park. Maybe one of them is a particularly good mimic. He starts to prowl around like a cat. Pretty soon he really gets into it, especially as he notices a number of people watching him. His friend thinks it's also pretty cool. Pretty soon they've developed a set routine and they call it the cat...or the snake...or the crane. They teach others. One thing leads to another, and slowly, over time, these random, meaningless movements take on a life of their own.

Of course, that's a ridiculous scenario. Kata did not come first, though there are plenty of people out there who think that this is a point as open to debate as the chicken and the egg. Isn't it far more likely--perhaps one should substitute logical for likely--that bunkai/application came first, and then in order to remember particularly good and effective applications they were put into solo routines so that they could be remembered and practiced in the absence of a partner or teacher? It's hard for me to believe that this is not universally acknowledged, but the larger question is, if we accept this: How do we know which applications are the ones originally intended by the kata? Are yours as good as mine? Are mine as good as some renowned teacher who has books and dvds and seminars?

Some would say you can't, since that would be trying to figure out what the original creators of the katas had in mind. But does that close off all of history to us? We unearth artifacts to learn about past civilizations. We apply the scientific method to problems in the universe. We analyze evidence to solve crimes. Why can't we apply logic and a knowledge of martial principles to the analysis of kata? Without it, it seems to me, we are doing a disservice to the garden, letting the weeds proliferate. Without it, the cockroaches will soon take over, and where will we be then?

The Second Principle...in no particular order: kata analysis cont.

"Much of the stepping--particularly in the initial "uke"--indicates how the defender steps off line and consequently the direction from which the opponent's attack comes."

Taking Saifa--the first classical subject in the Goju-ryu canon--as an example, and imagining that one starts the kata facing north, the first sequence, repeated three times--a wrist grab release and arm bar, followed by a grab of the opponent's head, a step back and down into shiko-dachi, and a forearm strike to the back of the opponent's neck--shows the defender moving in along either a northeast tangent to the opponent (in the first and third repetition) or a northwest tangent to the opponent (in the second repetition).

The second sequence--beginning with the block of a two-handed push, followed by a front kick, and ending with the lower-level hammer fist--also shows an initial movement in along the northwest tangent.

The third sequence--the turn around to the south which again ends with a lower-level hammer fist--shows a 90 degree off-line initial movement with the attacker stepping in from the west with a left upper-level punch.

The fourth sequence, which shows an initial left hand block and right hand hammer fist strike and is repeated on the other side with a right hand block and left hand hammer fist strike, again shows a 90 degree off-line movement with the attacker again stepping in from the west.

The fifth and last sequence, the step and mawashi uke, again shows a 90 degree off-line movement with the attacker again stepping in from the west.

Saifa kata shows two of the directional off-line movements found in the Goju-ryu classical subjects. One can see an example of stepping back directly to the south in Seiunchin kata (with the defender facing north and the attacker stepping in from the north). One can see an example of stepping back at an angle to the southwest or southeast in Kururunfa kata (again facing north with the attack from the north).

Last sequence in
Seipai showing 90
degree step off line.

So what one should see in kata is a demonstration of how one steps off line. The pattern of kata doesn't show turns because one has run out of space but because it shows both where the attack is coming from and how one should avoid it in applying the technique. What should be apparent then is that in analyzing kata (bunkai) one should always start from the end of the previous sequence, because it is the movements and steps between sequences that show how to move off line, and, consequently, the application of the techniques may be different from what one previously imagined.



End of throw in last
Seipai sequence.

For example, in the last sequence of Seipai kata, if we begin from the undercut in shiko-dachi which ends the previous sequence, one steps and turns in a clockwise fashion to face the original front. But the off-line movement shows us that the attacker is not coming from the north or original front but from the west. This changes the way we might see the hand techniques applied. In this case, as one steps off line with the left foot, the left arm blocks an opponent's right punch. At the same time the defender's right hand comes across the opponent's face to the right side of his head. Then, turning towards the front, as both arms move in a clockwise fashion, taking the opponent's arm and head with them, the opponent is spun around and thrown. The sequence finishes with the low hammer-fist.