Right Spirit, Right Instruction
by Dave Lowry

Martial arts circles make much of the importance of “spirit.” Perhaps it’s because Westerners perceive the arts as methods for the weak to overcome the strong. Perhaps it’s because the arts often feature masters whose feats seem to defy the laws of physics: breaking stacks of boards, fending off multiple attackers and leaping head-high into the air to execute spectacular kicks. Consequently, it’s become the attitude of many people that karate is a mystical art.

Japanese teachers, at a loss to explain in English how karate actually works, have further clouded the issue. Sometimes it’s a language problem, but sometimes they don’t really know because not all instructors possess a solid understanding of the principles of their art, even if they can demonstrate it beautifully. “You have to have a strong spirit to excel in karate,” they tell their students. The implications behind that exhortation vary, and some of them can be misleading.

In this context, spirit refers to “attitude.” We must have the correct attitude to do anything properly. In the budo, it’s essential for several reasons. First, it’s impossible to accomplish much in a short period. A beginner in karate may be able to make a fist correctly after six months of training, but it probably won’t be instinctive. He may believe he’s begun to polish some elementary stances and even the movements of a basic kata. However, at this stage, he’s just imitating what he sees his teacher or seniors doing. There’s no content yet, and if he’s smart, he’ll realize this and be frustrated by it. If he has the wrong attitude, he’ll lose interest. If he has the right attitude and accepts that he has a long road before him, he’ll continue training.

Second, spirit, in the form of attitude, is vital to learning a budo because it’s so foreign that most people who are starting on its path have little idea of where it will lead. Therefore, we must have absolute faith in our teachers, believe they know where they’re going and be confident they can lead us there. In this sense, spirit is a form of trust. It’s an acceptance of the rules and training laid down by the instructor—a willingness to do things his way in the belief that we’ll eventually understand the art for ourselves.

However, some instructors place so much emphasis on correct spirit that they present a lopsided view of the budo. Having all the spirit in the world won’t take us to the summit of the martial ways unless we also receive correct instruction. Even if we train eight hours every day and throw 10,000 front kicks and punches, if we haven’t learned how to do the techniques correctly, we’re largely wasting our time.

Even an excellent course of instruction in an art is fraught with pitfalls, disappointments and setbacks. While there’s a strong element of “If I can dream it, I can make it come true” in our culture, we must be realistic. Our dreams of finding a cure for cancer might be utterly sincere, but unless we have a thorough grounding in science and medicine, we’re unlikely to achieve our goal. Without the technical foundation, we’re just spinning our wheels.

Many Westerners believe the martial ways can convey an almost magical power. And as with other performances of magic, the details are often neglected when they’re really what makes the final product look and work well. One of the details of mastering karate and other arts lies in securing expert instruction. Unfortunately, many “teachers” are nothing of the sort. Some are outright imposters, while others learned incorrectly and received permission from their own ineffective teachers to go out and take on students. Both types, either deliberately or unconsciously, develop a repertoire of psychological stratagems to keep pupils. One such tactic is to make a big deal out of the importance of spirit.

“Sensei, I just can’t make this kick work,” the student might say. “It doesn’t have any power. What am I doing wrong?”

“Not enough spirit,” the teacher will reply. “Practice harder!”

If the ersatz teacher has sufficient charisma or is skilled enough as an actor, he can dress up
this message with dramatics that inspire the student to return to the dojo floor and double his enthusiasm and output. However, even if the student triples his efforts, it won’t do any good because the teacher is incapable of supplying the right kind of instruction. The instructor can’t improve the student’s kick because he doesn’t know how to do it himself or doesn’t know how to communicate the needed information.

The real crime here is that the student doesn’t improve and thinks it’s his fault. The karate teacher deliberately places the burden of guilt on the student instead of putting it where it belongs—on himself. The student probably came to the dojo in the first place because he had a poor self-image, was afraid of being attacked and couldn’t cope with stressful situations. The teacher reinforces these feelings. Anyone so venal as to pass himself off as a legitimate teacher of karate is unlikely to lose any sleep over this, but it illustrates just how damaging bogus instruction can be.

While spirit is a vital component of budo training, you must also have expert instruction to guide your spirit in a suitable way. Foster a strong spirit in all aspects of your life, including your attitude about karate, then make sure you have a teacher who’s worthy of using it.

About the author: Dave Lowry is a freelance writer who has trained extensively in the Japanese and Okinawan arts. He started writing Karate Way in 1986.