Reinventing Martial Arts in the 21st Century

The first set of vignettes are from 2017 to 2019, when travel and physical exchanges permitted travel of practitioners and teachers from different countries to work in singular spaces. The second trio of vignettes returns to these three martial arts schools to show how their pedagogies were flipped online in the spring to summer period of 2020, making use of the technological advances of the 21^st century. The third set of tales returns to these training sites to show how the pedagogies had adapted to social distancing and awkwardness when returning to human touch.

These are impressionist tales that follow the convention set out by Van Maanen (2011), which is designed to invite the reader into the social and sensuous world of a fieldwork setting while minimising the authoritarian and theoretical voice of the author. This genre is a way of representing ethnographic research, making the most of long-term immersion in fieldwork sites, as I have done over several years. As such, this chapter makes a contribution to knowledge by showing how three different martial arts schools operated before, during and after the main wave of the pandemic and subsequent lockdowns. The reader will notice the contrasts between the special events (a Wing Chun seminar, a guest workshop and a Taijiquan course) to the regular online training from the main instructors and their supportive network of students, followed by gradual adjustments to partner training and the use of physical equipment. We begin with the story from Bridge’s Wing Chun Academy in which two guest instructors from the United States gave a two-day seminar over one weekend, only for the school to close its doors once the “stay at home” mandate was enacted. One theme that unites the three groups in dealing with the issue of the virus and the related problems of isolation, loneliness and lack of touch is humour among tightly-knit martial arts communities, which features in the second set of tales.

Bridge’s Wing Chun Academy

Once our basic movements were checked on the first day, we moved onto partner training on the Sunday. Karl and Jemima wanted to get out “rolling” mechanism correct, and each of them would check on how it felt. Karl moved with me in a slow and thoughtful fashion, and I could feel his solid structures coming up from his strong stance. My own teacher crossed the room to take a look at me. “He’s crap!” He joked, laughing as I smiled to meet the joke. He meant this in a sarcastic manner, as he had normally regarded me as a skilful student who had been trained to a high level. Karl did not seem to register this humour, and he defended me with a serious reply in a steady, monotone voice: “He’s doing very well.” It was interesting to note how the very professional couple wouldn’t mock the students or make jokes about any other Wing Chun school, while Sifu Bridge felt comfortable to joke about many things with both his students and peers. During a demonstration of a partner exercise, Jemima corrected Karl, and suggested a different way to explain the technique, leaving John to quip: “We know who’s in charge at home, don’t we, Karl!” Everyone laughed at this joke, including the guest instructors, who obviously had a strong bond with John, understanding his cockney working-class and direct sense of humour. Karl often deferred to Jemima, and he noted, “there is no doubt in my mind that she could hurt me.” The two also became very passionate about their teacher Sifu Li, noting that “there’s always something that he can spot with your technique to make you better.” Jemima later added, “you keep on getting better and better each day…and then you die” smiling with the realisation that our goal of perfection will never be reached.

Reuniting the Kung Fu family online.

Two and a half years on from the seminar and later weekend seminar from Master Li and his son (also travelling for the corresponding family holiday enabled by the student fees from the weekend), the COVID-19 pandemic led the UK Government, like many governments around the world, to initiate measures including the stay and work from home policies. Letter from the Prime Minister’s office were posted to each household, while martial arts schools had to close with no idea when they would return, and Sifu Bridge used the Facebook platform to set up a private member’s group that George and I could join, along with another former student who lived far away.

Normally, it would be very difficult to learn from our formative teacher on a regular basis, as the special events of the quarterly seminars and the occasional guest seminar would enable us to learn more about Wing Chun from our teacher who lives two and a half hours away (as far distance by British standards) in another country (England), which had slightly different restrictions due to the Welsh Government’s localised control over the pandemic. However, now that no one could learn in person – even the locals – Sifu developed twice-weekly online classes to teach Wing Chun on the same evenings as he normally taught in the gym, making sure the times suited his senior student and confidant, Jim, who has a young family. Using the Messenger application connecting to the Facebook group (renamed from “Dragon Gym is Closed” used to announce the closure of the doors to the more vulgar “Dragon Gym Fucked Off” with the exchange of jokes, memes and action plans), he started a group call with current and former students united by his lineage. People answered the call from their homes, sometimes with a beer or snack in hand after a hard day’s work online, with many taking a brief break at 8 p.m. for the “clap for carers” in honour of the National Health Service (NHS) workers who were struggling to maintain the health system afloat during the pandemic. Clangs of saucepans erupted for a moment as we took a break midway through the class.

Sifu wanted students to study the videos he posted on our members-only Facebook group, which included a palm and chopping sequence in the air, which consisted of eight techniques (as with the eight stances, eight punches and eight elbows corresponding to the eight directions characteristic of our lineage). He appeared to have filmed this while visiting another Kwoon either in the warmer climes of the South West United States or Macao (with him wearing shorts and a vest), and he would then test our understanding by asking us to demonstrate. This was a new sequence that I wrote down in my technical notebook, which I would then take photographs of and send to my training partner George (who could not attend due to him working evening shifts) via WhatsApp, as he told me he was able to read my rather illegible handwriting often taken very quickly as I watched, interpreted and tried to emulate the movements while standing up. Sometimes Sifu laughed at my extensive notetaking, making the others chuckle at my different mannerisms and habits. My manner of speaking and profession often made me feel different from the other, more local, working-class students. It seems rarer for students to take notes by hand these days as they spent more time on YouTube scrutinising videos and training off handouts and posters – as did Kyle, a beginner who had plastered his walls with posters of the fundamental sequences and maxims of our style of Wing Chun.