Cynicism
by Keith Vargo

Sometimes it seems like cynicism is the collective neurosis of our time. It’s as if everything we do must be reduced to base cravings for anything to make sense. Money, power, status and sex are the only motives that count. We see beliefs as useful lies, things to massage people’s feelings and get what we want from them. Otherwise, we consider such ideals harmless idiosyncrasies or cultural ornaments—fairy tales nurtured by people who are too weak or stupid to deal with the cold, hard truths of life.

This kind of cynicism may be an occupational hazard in some areas, like politics or show business. However, it doesn’t have to be everyone’s default setting, least of all in the martial arts community. All of us are, to some extent, in the business of self-discovery and idealism. In fact, one of the main reasons the arts endure is they show a truth in fighting that’s not hard and cold.

In spite of this, many martial artists descend into cynicism. I’m not just talking about the owners of belt factories that charge high rates for classes and distribute rank certificates like confetti. Some of the biggest cynics are famous and influential practitioners.

Over the years, I’ve been fortunate enough to meet heads of styles, top fighters and other big names in the industry. I generally have an automatic admiration for them because of the things they’ve achieved. I usually assume they’re pleased with themselves, too. Consequently, I’m always surprised by how many complain that they’ve wasted their time and should’ve become lawyers or doctors; or how many talk constantly about making money or moving merchandise. Most of all, I’m amazed by champion fighters—men who’ve accomplished something real in the ring—who covet the hollow glamour of Hollywood.

To be fair, many well-known martial artists do try to live up to a kind of warrior ideal. Guys like Pat Miletich and Yuki Nakai spring to mind. They make money off the fighting arts and enjoy a certain level of fame, but you can’t reduce them to it. The honesty and excellence of such fighters put cynicism in its place. Being a modern-day warrior is what they’re about, regardless of fight purses or fame.

This spark of idealism, the notion that people can be more than what they are, gives meaning to the martial arts. Every day in the practice hall, we have a chance to shape ourselves according to an ideal and make it come alive through our actions. Every time we step in the ring, we have a chance to test the character we’ve developed, to see if we’ve really become more than we were. It’s only when we give up on our ideals and guiding principles that the arts seem meaningless and we fall back to the default setting of cynicism. It’s only then that we sour on the martial arts and start asking, “What is this getting me?”

What the martial arts “get” us is the chance to bring an ideal to life through our fighting skill. Each of us makes the arts as meaningful or meaningless as we want through our attitude. We can make our art something noble and strong that’s the center of our life, or it could be a two-bit hustle in which we talk like a fortune cookie and relieve people of their money. The choice is ours.

About the author: Keith Vargo is a freelance writer, researcher and martial arts instructor who currently lives in Japan.