(Approx 2 minute 50 second read)

In a recent conversation about my article on preemption and self-defense, someone said to me, “There are some situations where a block and counter is your only option.”
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At first glance, it sounds reasonable – but as a general principle for self-defense? It’s flawed.
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There are moments when you may have no choice but to react – when you’re taken by surprise, caught off-guard. But in most real-life violent encounters, waiting to block and then counter is often too little, too late.
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Preemption – acting before the opponent fully initiates their attack – is not about aggression, it’s about survival. Real violence is fast, messy, and often unpredictable. The idea that you’ll have time to recognize the attack, position yourself, block it cleanly, and then launch a counter is unrealistic.
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If you’ve never been on the receiving end of a sudden, committed assault, it’s easy to overestimate your ability to respond with calm precision – and what if there’s a weapon? You have to stop viewing attacks as if they’ll come from a karateka.
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A knife doesn’t give you a second chance. A bottle or a crowbar doesn’t wait for your hard block. The more committed and dangerous the attack, the less time you have to process and react. That’s why preemption matters.
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Unfortunately, the way karate is commonly taught today reinforces a false sense of security. The classical block-then-punch – with one hand withdrawn to the hip doing nothing – is often presented as effective. It’s not.
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That withdrawing hand – the hikite – was never meant to just sit idle. Both hands need to be active. One is not blocking while the other waits its turn. They should be working together – striking, grabbing, pulling, controlling, unbalancing.
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Older interpretations of kata show this clearly. The hikite is often part of a takedown, a limb control, or a close-range disruption. But over time, that functional intent has been lost or turned into choreography. The result? A generation of practitioners being taught to “wait their turn” in a fight – and that’s not how violence works.
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This is where we could take a valuable lesson from boxing. While boxing isn’t self-defense, the way a boxer deals with an incoming punch is far more functional than what we often see in modern karate. A boxer doesn’t simply block – he slips, parries, covers, rolls, absorbs, and counters in one seamless motion.
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There’s rarely a moment when one hand is doing all the work while the other is idle. Both hands are active. The body is moving, defense and offense together.
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Compare that to the way many karateka are taught to perform a rising block, for instance – standing in place, one arm lifted to ‘stop’ an incoming attack, the other hand retracted to the hip. It’s a pose, not a response. There’s no movement, no repositioning, no intent beyond the action itself. That’s not self-defense. It’s choreography.
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Interestingly, the Japanese term uke, translated as “block”, is a poor and limiting definition. Uke comes from the verb ukeru – to receive. This implies much more than just stopping something. It suggests accepting, redirecting, even neutralizing with control. It’s closer to what the boxer does – receiving the punch in a way that leaves him in a better position, not a worse one.
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In older karate – before modern sport or institutional teaching diluted it – uke had this layered meaning. It wasn’t a block followed by a counter. It was an active, strategic part of a dynamic engagement.
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Somewhere along the way, that understanding was reduced to “step, block, punch” – a rigid format that looks good but falls apart under pressure. And now it’s stuck.
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We need to return to the idea of receiving – not blocking an attack dead in its tracks to then wait to counter, but using it. Turning the moment to our advantage, whether through preemption, disruption, or simultaneous application. That’s not just more practical. It’s more in line with karate’s roots.
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Written by Adam Carter