Self-defense and karate – two words that can be the difference between chalk and cheese, or, if trained within the correct context, can comfortably coexist.
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Some people believe combative skill, that is, self-defense, will somehow emerge despite never training to develop it, even while calling what they do “self-defense”.
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That assumption sits at the root of a much wider problem: the failure to clearly differentiate between contexts. This isn’t unique to karate, but karate does suffer from it badly.
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Asking whether sport kumite “works” for self-defense, then criticizing it because it doesn’t, makes no more sense than claiming a boat is useless because you tried to drive it on the highway.
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What works is always context dependent. I write about this often, in the hope that those who cling rigidly to their dogma might at least pause long enough to consider it.
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Sport does not work well for self-protection – but it works very well for sport.
Self-protection training does not work well for sport – but it works for self-protection.
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Now let me add a disclaimer. There are exceptional individuals who can make almost anything work, regardless of context or scenario. They could probably walk around with a big ‘S’ on their chest.
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But for the rest of us who don’t wear blue spandex, the real problem is that martial artists routinely fail to separate these contexts, then go one step further by treating a single context as a universal gold standard.
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‘Does it work?’ is an incomplete question unless we also ask, ‘works for what?’
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There is nothing inherently wrong with modern karate if the goals are health, enjoyment, discipline, or cultural practice. The problem arises when those same methods are presented as practical self-protection. They are not, and saying so is not an attack. It’s an honest assessment of function.
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In my own dojo, we sometimes train things that would be ill-advised in a self-protection context, and we are honest about that. We do them because they are fun, useful for skill development, or serve specific training aims. That does not mean everything is equal or interchangeable.
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I have no interest in limiting karate to a single aspect, even though most of my writing and teaching focus is on practical application. Nor do I want to tell others what they should or should not practice. What matters is that the goals are clear, and the training genuinely addresses those goals.
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If training aligns with its stated purpose, there’s no problem. No single approach is inherently superior to all others, because there is no single context against which everything can be judged.
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I know people who are entirely sport-focused. They train for sport and make no claims about self-protection. I know others who train purely for artistic, cultural, or personal reasons, and again make no claims beyond that. These are legitimate pursuits and don’t require defending.
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Scrutiny only becomes necessary when claims are made that the training does not justify. At that point, the issue isn’t style, tradition, or preference – it’s honesty.
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So when a school states that it trains for tradition, discipline, and excellence in the martial arts, with a focus on fighting, mental strength, and physical conditioning, the sensible question becomes: what does that prepare someone for in practice?
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It can be confusing. And I suspect that most people walking through the door of a martial arts school are, at least initially, interested in learning how to protect themselves. The other benefits may come later, but if the context isn’t made clear from the outset, that confusion is not the student’s fault.
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Being clear about context isn’t an attack on tradition or training – it’s an obligation to the people who place their trust in it.
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– Adam Carter