A Convenient Paradox

I regret to inform you that I have decided to abandon reason altogether.

I don’t abandon it lightly. All of modernity is tied to the same anchor, and so to cut loose of it must cause one to hesitate. But cause itself is the cancer, and can therefore be surgically removed without scrutiny.

Martial arts are a little bit crazy, as you and I quietly know. Maybe it follows that martial artists are as well, and I wouldn’t be the first to volunteer evidence to the contrary. We have at once been labeled naive, paranoid, anachronistic, arrogant, dangerous, and especially delusional. Admittedly, the signal to noise ratio in our community isn’t exactly favorable. In fact, I would argue that any signal we may come across is merely a statistical anomaly, and the rare fruitful discussion is well within the margin of error.

And so we, as martial artists, begin our journey toward understanding with the deck stacked against us. The responsible martial artist does his part to impose order upon the chaos of combat, using whatever shreds of philosophy that he has at hand. He collects theories and observations, instructions and experience, and then he cuts a swath through them with his faculties of reason. But many an inquisitive martial artist has caught himself in the epistemological traps of his discipline. Martial arts, both traditional and modern, commit daily offenses to reason which cannot be overcome as easily as we would like. As students, we have no idea which elements of a martial art contribute to its success as a method of fighting or training, so we have no recourse but to empty our cups and accept the teacher’s tea. And yet, when I emptied my cup, I found it difficult to refill.
 

Cracks in the Foundation

When I lived in Beijing, I had a Wing Chun teacher who was prone to talking to me at length after class. During one such talk, he asserted that Westerners take the wrong approach to Chinese martial arts. Western logic and reason are limited tools, he said, and anyone who bases their beliefs solely on reason is stuck in a box. If I never leave that box, I can only reinforce the worldview that I already have.

As a dyed-in-the-wool rationalist, I was keenly aware that reason is the only path toward certainty. I was tempted to pursue the matter Socratically, to expose faults in his idea through a series of innocent questions. But each question that arose in my mind presupposed the very idea that was under attack. I couldn’t critically examine his point without betraying myself as an advocate of reason.

After listening quietly, I asked “How do we know whether we are achieving our goals?” He thought for a moment, then said “That is a very good question.” The problem, he said, is the word “know.” We cannot know, we can only have faith. It seemed that he had given up on certainty altogether.

I went home frustrated, unable to come up with a way to convince him of the importance of reason. We disagreed on such a fundamental level that it was nearly impossible to find common ground. So I asked myself: How could I justify reason to a man like him?
 

The Paradox of Reason

That night, I discovered a problem. Reason cannot be justified without begging the question. All justifications are based on reason, so any justification must presuppose that reason is valid. Circular reasoning is invalid logic, so reason fails on its own terms.

Well, that was easy.

David Hume (1711-1776) is usually credited with identifying the problem of induction.

There must be some other justification, I thought. Reason seems to match observation, shouldn’t that count for something? Yet sense observation is a poor basis for reason, as reason itself can undermine the senses quite easily. Take Descartes for example, who reasoned that his perceptions could all be part of a dream or deception. Fair enough, you might say, but doesn’t reason have an incredible track record of success? Cue David Hume, who famously outlined the problem of induction. Not only is it impossible to use past experiences to predict future events, but to do so is to engage in inductive reasoning. So we are left, once again, begging the question. The very notion of justification presupposes the value of reason.

Reason demands that we discard all ideas which have no justification. But if reason has no other justification, then we are left with an order to disobey all orders. It seems that all commands of reason are suspect, and that we had better learn to do without.
 

Living Unreasonably

It’s liberating. Without reason, there is no way to establish cause and effect. In terms of martial arts, I am free to use any solution to solve any problem, although I have no justification to expect any result. In fact, why solve problems at all? There’s no reason for it. There, I can take the rest of the day off.

My teacher was right about one thing: Once you take reason out of the picture, the only alternative is faith. Faith requires no reason whatsoever, and ceases to be of use when reason is involved. Since matters of faith require no reason, I need no reason to have faith in anything – another liberating idea. I can have faith that the world is as it seems, that I can trust my perceptions, and that my pen is now a leopard. Perhaps those ideas seem contradictory, but I have faith that they are not.

Faith has no claim to certainty. But once we give up all hope of certainty, faith becomes quite an attractive option. It is the only way to satisfy our addictions to cause and effect. For example, when I am unhappy with someone, I simply lend them my pen. I have faith that they will be very badly mauled as a result. Such feats of mental agility are beyond the grasp of reason. Faith’s reach never exceeds its grasp. No article of faith is more nor less reasonable than any other article of faith, because reason has nothing to do with it.

Best of all, faith can be as circular as it likes. When confronted with a doubt about my faith, I can simply conjure up more faith in my own beliefs. It’s really quite convenient.

But I am not willing to have faith in reason. What’s the use of faith if I have confidence in reason? If I have faith that things can and should be justified, then I may require a reasonable justification of my own faith. And then the house of cards comes tumbling down yet again.

So it seems that my teacher was right. I’m grateful, because my world has become significantly more whimsical as a result. I only wonder why he persists in teaching Wing Chun when he could just get a leopard like mine.

Choosing a martial art: The fundamental problems

Choosing a martial art is an important decision. Real expertise does not come from switching martial arts every few years; it requires a long-term commitment. In some ways, choosing a martial art is like choosing a spouse: You can play the field while you’re young, but you won’t develop a deep, meaningful connection if you never attempt a committed relationship. Likewise, your criteria for choosing a one night stand (hopefully) would not be the same as your criteria for choosing the mother of your children.

I am still searching for the right martial art to study in the long term. In searching, I have discovered that there are some questions that every martial artist should ask, and some harsh realities of which every martial artist should be aware. Without these questions, we are simply letting whim and chance choose our martial art. The choice is too important for that. So let’s begin with the first question, and perhaps the most obvious one:

How do I know that a martial art is effective?

There are two ways to directly determine whether a martial art is effective: Observation and training.

Observation

My first instinct would be to observe a martial art in order to see whether it’s effective. But can I rely on observation? Effectiveness is difficult to see, especially if I don’t already have experience. The most refined techniques are often the most subtle. This is why realistic martial arts are never portrayed in movies or television; it’s usually not very impressive to watch. Even if effective technique wasn’t so subtle, how could I observe an authentic, unrestrained expression of a martial art? I can’t witness effectiveness in real combat without putting the practitioners in harm’s way (and doing it enough times to be certain). Therefore, observation is unreliable.

Training

My next option is to train in a martial art in order to determine its effectiveness. Training is more reliable than observation, but it also has its problems. Some arts are better suited for short term results; others are suited for the long term. If I am only evaluating the art based on short-term results, I’ll likely favor the sort of arts which MMA has popularized. If I am evaluating the art based on long-term results, what’s the point of the evaluation? I want to know whether a martial art is good before putting in the sort of time and effort required to achieve long term results. Furthermore, long-term training still doesn’t help if I don’t have long-term experience in other arts to compare it with. Therefore, evaluation through training is either unreliable or impractical.

Neither of these direct methods are adequate ways to judge a martial art’s effectiveness. Long-term training is useful overall, but it cannot tell me what I need to know about an art before committing to it.

Since direct methods won’t work, maybe I can supplement our knowledge with indirect methods. There are several indirect reasons why I might believe that a martial art is effective:

1. Someone else tells me that the martial art is effective

2. I have faith that the martial art is effective

3. The martial art was practiced by a person of extraordinary ability or knowledge

4. The martial art survived an unforgiving environment

1. Someone else tells me that the martial art is effective
The first reason makes sense if I don’t have much personal experience. Why not trust the opinion of someone who knows more than I do? By relying on an expert, I can benefit from long-term training experience without making the commitment yourself. Experts can be reliable if you choose them correctly. But how do I know who to trust? Is it better to trust someone who challenges my beliefs or someone who seems to agree with what I already know? Is it better to trust someone I know personally or a more experienced stranger? Is it better to trust a book or a person in the flesh? What about teachers who stand to make a profit – are they reliable sources of information? And no matter who I choose, there will almost always be someone else out there who disagrees with them. If I choose to rely on the opinions of others, I will not have solved the problem of uncertainty.

2. I have faith that the martial art is effective

Next, there is faith, always a popular option. Some people maintain their confidence in an idea regardless of the evidence. For some, this is acceptable. For others, like me, faith is completely incompatible with rationality. I hope that you do not choose this option unconsciously or lightly. But even if you do, there remains a problem: How do you choose what to have faith in? I could have faith that the greatest martial art in world history originated in suburban New Jersey. I could have faith in the claims of every martial artist on YouTube. I could have faith that Ueshiba Morihei was a small but mostly domesticated tortoise. All of these beliefs can be equally sustained through faith, but it stands to reason that faith does not spring into existence arbitrarily. People don’t just suddenly develop faith in an idea. Ideas are usually based on some form of inductive reason, however questionable their logic may be. It is only when those ideas are called into question that faith comes into the picture. Faith allows people to avoid revising their ideas in the face of evidence to the contrary. If you have faith in something, do yourself a favor and trace the origin of your belief. A belief based on faith is not necessarily incorrect, but faith is by definition the least reliable option.

3. The martial art was practiced by a person of extraordinary ability or knowledge

When a martial art is practiced by an extraordinary martial artist, I can take that as a sign of its effectiveness. Let’s take Bruce Lee as an example. Many people believe that Wing Chun is effective because Bruce Lee practiced it. Other people believe that Jeet Kune Do and/or Jun Fan Gong Fu are effective for the same reason. Bruce Lee had amazing abilities and/or knowledge, therefore his methods must be effective, right? Of course, it’s not that simple. There are two problems with this line of reasoning. First, I should not assume that everyone can achieve the same results as he did. What makes me think that his martial art was even responsible for those results? Second, how do I know that he was so extraordinary? There are good reasons to think that he wasn’t (exaggeration, media hype, etc). Look closely at the stories they tell about famous martial artists and you can see a striking parallel with the stories told about prophets or miracle men. Jesus walked on water; Bruce Lee knocked a grown man down with a one-inch punch. Ultimately, the authority of any famous martial artist depends on their list of achievements. But reputation is built on hearsay, not actual credentials. Because of these problems, I cannot reliably determine whether a martial art is effective based on its famous practitioners.

4. The martial art survived an unforgiving environment

The final reason is the most interesting to me. A martial art is likely to be effective if it survived an unforgiving environment. An unforgiving environment is one which allows as little inefficiency as possible. You could call this the Darwinian argument. For example, Taijiquan was used by the Chinese military. If the military found Taijiquan to be effective under the real stresses of combat, then I have reason to believe that Taijiquan is effective. War is a good example of an unforgiving environment, but don’t forget that not all martial arts are intended for the battlefield. Civil disorder could be a good crucible as well. For example, Krav Maga was created by a Jewish man who learned to defend himself against anti-Semites in Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia. If I want to know whether a martial art survived an unforgiving environment, I need to understand when a martial art was founded, and under what circumstances. This is usually more difficult for older martial arts. But even if I don’t know the circumstances in which it was founded, a martial art may have passed through a crucible later in its existence as well.

This seems simple enough. But here we come to a harsh reality about martial arts: Very few extant martial arts have survived an unforgiving environment.

Truly unforgiving environments are rare in the modern world. Modern weapons make most martial arts unnecessary. Therefore, inefficiency can be tolerated. Let’s take the US Marine Corps as an example. Every Marine is taught to fight unarmed. But if the Marines use these methods of fighting during wartime, that does not tell me much, because Marines try to never fight unarmed. When it comes to firearms, the USMC has tremendous authority. When it comes to fighting without guns, I’d rather listen to someone else. It’s even worse when you look at swordsmanship or other obsolete weapon arts. Modern environments are usually not conducive to developing unarmed martial arts, or pre-modern weapon arts. This is why people like me tend to look for older martial arts.

Unfortunately, martial arts are much younger than most people believe. There are extremely few extant Japanese martial arts from before the Edo period(1603-1868), during which time there was no war. Japan is not alone in this. The martial arts of the Shaolin temple are often recognized as some of the oldest in the world, yet there is no solid evidence of their existence prior to the 16th century. When you think about it, it’s amazing than an orally-transmitted tradition has even lasted this long.

Among the older martial arts that survived, most have been modernized or have otherwise changed dramatically. These aren’t the arts of ancient warriors, or even from the days before firearms. When we take these changes into account, nearly every martial art that you’ve ever heard of is younger than one hundred and fifty years old. Many are less than fifty years old. Let me give you a few tangible examples. Almost every internationally-known Japanese martial art(Judo, Aikido, Kendo, Karate, etc) was created or modernized during the cultural upheavals of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Although each art traces its roots back hundreds of years, none of them are representative of historical Japanese(or Okinawan) martial arts. They have become some of the most popular martial arts in the world, yet they are absolutely modern. These martial arts can’t rely on their history for legitimacy. They have changed too much.

It can be useful to ask whether a martial art survived an unforgiving environment. However, once you account for age and change over time, the answer is almost always no.

After weighing my options, there’s really only one conclusion that I came come to: For a prospective student, it is functionally impossible to judge the effectiveness of an art with any real degree of reliability. The implications of this have haunted me for years. Direct methods are flawed and indirect methods can’t make up for that. Yet though there is no such thing as true certainty, our judgments can be more or less justified. The point of this discussion is to examine martial arts using all the tools available. Most people would be satisfied with just one or two of these methods. But if you want to study a martial art in the long term, this is an important decision. Choose wisely.

Reason, Faith, and Confidence

Any well-developed martial art requires long-term study. It stands to reason that one must have a great deal of confidence in a system before investing so much time and effort. But how does a martial art earn our confidence?

We can assume that not all martial arts are worthy of our confidence. Given this premise, a martial artist must be skeptical in order to separate the wheat from the chaff. Skepticism lies at the core of modern reason, and without it we would have to rely on blind faith. But even as an avowed skeptic, I have to admit that skepticism has its limits. When studying a new system, for example, isn’t it presumptive for a martial artist to judge a martial art in the short term? Many underlying principles are not easily observable or understood, especially to someone without prior martial arts experience. How can a beginner even expect to know what criteria by which to judge a martial art? Isn’t this kind of skepticism antithetical to humility? The study of a martial art is a process of discovery, one which cannot occur if the martial artist is unwilling to admit ignorance. So, if a martial art cannot be thoroughly and accurately judged in the short term, what good is skepticism at determining whether a system merits long-term study?

At first glance, faith seems to be the alternative. Certainly, those of us who attempt to be humble must suspend judgment at times. It seems natural to assume that an instructor is knowledgeable, and that it might be wise to accept their claims at face value. Many martial artists would say that they have confidence in a particular martial art, even despite a lack of concrete proof. But what is faith? Faith can be defined as a belief held in absence of or opposition to evidence. When, as a beginner, I temporarily suspend my skepticism in order to give a martial art the benefit of the doubt, is that faith? Certainly, this is a situation in which the martial artist maintains confidence despite an absence of proof. It can be difficult to reconcile this behavior with modern rationality.

Rather than faith, this is an example of inductive reasoning. Inductive reasoning is a simple process, and one which we use every day.

It allows us to make probabilistic assumptions based on incomplete evidence. Take, for example, the scenario given by Bertrand Russell in his book The Problems of Philosophy: If the sun has risen every day of our lives, then we can reasonably assume that tomorrow the sun will rise again. However, we can never be certain of this.

Fig. 1: A British person

The more days that we observe the sun rising, the higher the probability will be that this is an unbreakable rule. However, we can never be certain that there isn’t an exception to this rule. Perhaps one day the sun will fail to rise. Let us set aside the fact that on that day, humans will likely have greater problems than epistemology. If the sun fails to rise, then we will have to revise our beliefs to account for this new data. Perhaps we failed to account for the possibility of a solar eclipse, or even that the Earth suddenly stopped rotating. Even under such a scenario, we could never be sure. Inductive reasoning can never be truly reliable. All we can do is collect as much data as possible before making a hypothesis, thereby increasing the probability that it is accurate. In other words, the best that we can hope for is an educated guess.

In martial arts, we establish a base level of confidence through observation and practice. Intellectually, we learn that many of these arts developed under violent and unforgiving circumstances, which lends them further authenticity. We draw confidence from the endorsement of generations of fellow martial artists around the world. And most importantly, we see the masters, perhaps even practice with them, and through them begin to understand the difference that long-term training can make. By making these observations, we realize that even if a martial art seems ineffective in the short term, it may be devastatingly effective after serious, long-term training. Although on the surface this appears to be a faith-based approach, it is entirely based on reason and observation.

Even an ignorant or misled martial artist employs inductive reasoning, though his conclusions may suffer from a low quantity or quality of supporting evidence. The crucial element is reason. It is only when reason is discarded that faith comes into the equation. However romanticized it may be, faith is the least reliable option available to us. But a purely faith-based approach is rare. Most of us establish our beliefs through reasoned assumptions, however strong or weak these assumptions may be. Faith tends to come into play when one makes an inductive assessment and refuses to amend it upon discovery of evidence to the contrary. We are all information gatherers, and it is important to remember that as the information changes, so must our conclusions.

If we are to entrust a martial art with our confidence, it is critical that we do so with purpose and reason. But a student won’t get anywhere by expecting instant gratification. To be humble is to suspend judgment, and to suspend judgment is to admit that you may not have enough data to make a conclusion. We can never be certain that our conclusions are correct; all we can do is continue gathering data over the course of our lives to support these conclusions. And when we encounter evidence to the contrary, we can weigh both sides and make a reasoned assessment. The process is slow, and may test the patience of the diehard skeptics among us. But it is this very process which cultivates informed and independent martial artists.