Theory & Counter-Theory: Comparing Open- & Closed-Hand Techniques

There is an old story about a fight that broke out on a street in Okinawa, and a passerby ran to a Karate Master’s home and asked him to go stop the fight. The Master asked if the fighters’ hands were open or closed, and when told they were fighting with closed fists, the Master reportedly went back into his home, saying that there was no need to worry because the fighters wouldn’t hurt each other too badly.

The moral of this story seems clear: open-hand techniques are more advanced and deadly than closed-hand techniques. This has been the mantra of many a martial arts school, and it is certainly a concept that practitioners of the “softer” arts (aikido, jujutsu, et cetera) have taken to heart and proven time and time again.

Though it would be foolish to think less of open-hand techniques, closed-hand techniques certainly have their value, or else they wouldn’t be taught. Mas Oyama made a name for himself by killing bulls with a single punch to the forehead. Before he did this, he would frequently chop off the bull’s horns with a shuto-uke (sword-hand strike), thus demonstrating his ability with both techniques. Yet, it was the closed-hand technique that killed the bull.

So, why are the open-hand techniques so advanced? Because of qi. Qi is the energy that flows through our bodies. It flows through channels, just like blood flows through arteries and veins, and electricity flows through nerves. Qi is energy; therefore it can be channeled through the body and transferred from one thing to another. The transference of energy into an opponent can be called kime, and is the heart of an effective technique. Open-hand techniques are the easiest way to transfer this energy into an opponent.

To demonstrate this, we could look at any open-hand technique, but the easiest to demonstrate is the shuto-uke, or sword-hand strike. To form the shuto, the hand is flattened, as if reaching into a pizza oven without touching the hot walls. The fingers have enough tension to keep them together, and the thumb is pulled back, tightening the muscles in the hand to form the weapon. The striking surface is the meaty part of the hand just below the smallest finger.

Ostensibly, that’s all there is to a good shuto-uke, and that limited view is partly to blame for it being most karate practitioner’s worst hand technique. There’s a lot more going on in the hand and body than just this. Since there is qi flowing through the body, it also flows through the hand. Qi does not flow very well through tight or tense muscles, and flows readily and easily through relaxed muscles. This means the flow of energy (qi) can be manipulated by the martial arts practitioner by the proper tensing and relaxing of certain muscles.

Done correctly, a shuto-uke should feel like energy is circling the hand, starting at the thumb, flowing around the palm, down the side of the hand (striking surface), and out the little finger. This energy cycle will add strength to the structure of the hand (as air adds to the structure of a tire), and increase the effectiveness of the technique.

This same concept can be applied to every technique to enhance the stability, performance, and effectiveness of that technique. Proper qi flow through a technique will do the following:

Make the weapon stronger: The weapon will be stronger because the qi is present, filling the gaps between cells and energizing them.

Increase the speed and accuracy of the strike: When the proper muscles are used, not only does qi flow through the weapon more readily and easily, but also the muscles used to deliver the weapon to the target are not unnecessarily constricted. The rest of the body is more relaxed; therefore the weapon is delivered to the target without hindrance by opposing muscles that serve to slow or draw the technique off target. (For example, if the bicep is too tight, then a punch is slowed because the triceps are the muscles used to extend the arm.)

Increase the effectiveness of the strike: The kime at the end of a technique is mostly the transference of qi from the attacker to the recipient. When qi enters the opponent’s body, delivered by a properly formed weapon, then the amount of damage to the opponent’s body is increased. When a sealed, water-filled paint can is shot, depending on the bullet, it either gets two holes in it or it explodes. The bullets that simply put holes in it are traveling so fast or are shaped in a way so their energy does not transfer to either water or container, so the bullet punches through both sides of the container and is gone. The bullets that make the container explode are hollow-points, which expand upon impact with the container, transferring most of their energy into the target. The water and container are suddenly filled with too much energy, and the container explodes. This same concept applies to hand techniques: the more energy (qi) transferred into the target, the more damage done to that target.

Decrease the opponent’s ability/will to continue fighting: When a weapon arrives at its intended target with proper qi flow, then it is faster, more fluid, and more powerful than any other technique. This means the weapon cannot be blocked or avoided, and the thought “that hurts more than it should” races through the target’s mind and body (this concept is one frequently and expertly taught by Masami Tsuruoka). This breaks down the opponent’s body, mind, and defenses, dramatically reducing any desire or ability to counterattack.

Increases the available energy to the attacker: When the flow of qi is not inhibited by improper weapon formation and/or execution, then there is more energy available to the martial artist. This means stronger or multiple opponents are more readily and easily managed.

The listed benefits of proper weapon formation and delivery (defined as the formation and delivery method that takes best advantage of available energy) could fill an encyclopedia, but the above list is a few highlights of the most obvious and important benefits of proper weapon formation.

The effects of qi flowing through open-hand techniques are obvious the first time a martial artist makes a proper shuto, haito, nukite or any other open-hand technique. From then on, if open-hand techniques are not a large part of a practitioner’s repertoire, then the individual is seriously lacking in his study of the Way.

But … what about the bulls? If open-hand techniques have so many benefits over closed-hand techniques because of their ready use of qi, then why didn’t Mas Oyama kill a bull with a nukite?

The answer is two-fold. First, a bull’s forehead is an incredibly hard surface that must be penetrated to cause any damage to the beast. Second, there are those that have done similar things: Gogin “the Cat” Yamaguchi is reported to have choked out a lion after kicking it in the nose, and David (a shepherd in the Old Testament of the Bible) is reported to have killed both a lion and a bear with his hands. Now, what techniques David used were lost, and it could be argued that Yamaguchi’s choke is not an open-hand technique, but the point is not which technique was used, but rather that these accomplishments, though few and far between, were not those of a single man, nor a single technique.

It also means that open or closed-hand techniques have equal use and validity. Further, the first technique anyone ever learns—a simple tsuki (punch)—is both the most basic technique, and the most advanced.

The punch is basic because it’s readily understood by the general population. Knuckles are hard, and when they are rapidly and forcefully placed on weaker things, those weaker things tend to break. This is a simple concept to understand and actuate. What is not so simple is the utilization of qi in a karate punch.

In open-hand techniques—once one knows what to look and feel for—the appearance and manipulation of qi is rather simple. This makes them wonderful techniques for the average Green Belt through early Black Belt ranks, providing power, fluidity, relaxation, and options that were previously unavailable to the martial arts practitioner. But then, as with everything, the focus returns to that first technique—the punch.

A properly formed fist (tsuken) is more difficult than first understood. The fingers are curled to touch the pad above the palm, then tightly rolled in, then held in place by a thumb that covers the first two fingers and points towards the little finger. The striking surface is the first two knuckles, and there should be no air gaps in the fist: it should be tight and feel heavy, like a brick.

As with the shuto, this is all well and good for the beginner. But the more advanced martial artist will notice that the last two fingers and the thumb should be tight, while the first two fingers should be relaxed. This is for several reasons:

Tightening the last two fingers and the thumb can be accomplished by tightening muscles in the hand, and do not require the use of any muscles in the forearm. This creates a more solid fist without bringing other—larger and slower—muscles into play.

In order for the first two fingers to be tightened, the muscles along the top of the forearm (extensor carpi radialis longus and brachioradialis) must also tighten. This not only slows the technique and prohibits proper rotation of the fist, but also draws the knuckles back and up, bending the wrist. When the wrist is bent like this, it blocks proper qi flow, creates a “shock absorber” out of the wrist, and places the weapon in a precarious situation wherein it will be damaged when it meets resistance. Further, tight forearms cause the elbows to float away from the body during the technique, which slows the punch and creates a non-linear line of attack, which causes even further loss of power.

When the first two fingers are relaxed and the other fingers tight, qi flows from the body and forearms through a channel formed in the hand to the first two knuckles and into the target. The tighter the last two fingers and thumb, and the more relaxed the first two fingers, the more qi will go into the target.

A tight fist and relaxed forearm will create a faster punch, allow quicker rotation, and promote proper qi flow through the weapon and into the target. This applies the exact same benefits to the closed-hand techniques that were present in the open-hand techniques discussed earlier. But, it is more difficult to experience the qi in a punch than it is an open-hand technique, so this makes the punch (though initially a “basic” technique) arguably the most advanced technique in the martial arts repertoire.

So, does that mean that the Master was wrong when he said that the street fighters wouldn’t hurt each other if they weren’t fighting with open hands?

He understood that, by their actions, the fighter’s character was less than enviable, and that they obviously knew very little about proper technique or its application. That meant that he could rest easily, knowing that the worst they would do to each other was cause a couple of black eyes and maybe a broken nose. If one of the fighters had understood and been able to apply the “hidden” concepts of proper technique formation and qi manipulation described above, then the fight would have been over before the passerby could’ve even thought to go find help.

His understanding was of the mentality and ability—or lack thereof—of the fighters, and his words spoke of them, not of the individual techniques. I have trained with masters that tell me, after fifty or more years of practicing their martial art, they are still working on getting a punch right. Are they foolish or unintelligent? No, far from it. They understand the things I have highlighted here, and things that I have yet to discover about our most basic—and most advanced—techniques.

Open or closed handed, the martial artist is a formidable foe if he or she takes the time to understand not just the “basic” technique, but all the depths and facets that make that technique effective.

As Kinjo Hiroshi said, “The performance of technique reveals one’s understanding of it.”

© MES, 2002

Teaching Martial Arts: The Standards of Being Sensei

“The true teacher defends his pupils against his own personal influence. He inspires self-trust. He guides their eyes from himself to the spirit that quickens him. He will have no disciple.” Amos Bronson Alcott, Orphic Sayings. From The Dial [July 1840]. The Teacher.

Amos Bronson Alcott has, in these few words, captured the essence of teaching Karate. Really, no more needs to be said, except to expound on the meaning of this deep and intricate saying. As a kata that seems so simple in its few movements, but has dozens of fabulous and deadly bunkai applications to each movement, so does this quotation seem outwardly simple, yet within its few words lies dozens of applications and meanings for the one who seeks to teach Karate.

The person that sets out to teach embarks on a difficult journey, but the one chosen to teach Karate (or any Martial Art) tackles the most difficult path. While a teacher teaches his own field and generally ignores the rest of reality, the teacher of Karate is called upon to instruct his students in all three aspects of the Human Trinity: the mind, the body, and the spirit.

The Karate instructor must teach his students to take control of their natural fight-or-flight instinct, and make split-second, rational decisions followed by quick, decisive acts of brute force. “On the street, the only rule is to fight for your life, and certainly the sooner you react with effective movement the better” (Robert Scaglione, Building Warrior Spirit, p. 23, 1990). This ability to quickly respond to stimuli with decisive, conscious use of brute force, in and of itself, makes the martial artist superior to common mensch. Mahatma Gandhi once said that, “In this age of the rule of brute force, it is almost impossible for anyone to believe that anyone else could possibly reject the law of the final supremacy of brute force.” Therefore, the Karate instructor imparts to his students the ability to join the ranks of the supreme, which means that the Karate instructor has a greater responsibility than, say, someone who teaches Algebra.

For this reason—as well as many more—it becomes imperative that the Karate instructor be a person of the highest moral fiber, committed to passing on his knowledge, not to making disciples. A great danger of teaching Martial Arts is the ego of the instructor. This ego can get in the way, and when the students—or the instructor himself—elevate their instructor to the level of a minor god, then we shouldn’t be surprised when that self-deified individual rebels against his style and his superiors and either sets out on his own or attempts to overthrow his own superiors (while there are often valid reasons for separation, and at some point it is inevitable that the student leave the teacher, lest he forego his potential, this is not the focus of this statement, but rather the egocentrism that poisons even the most devout students and instructors). There was only one Teacher in history that made disciples to Himself, and as we are not He, we are not to attempt such a pious feat.

Therefore, the first requirement of a good teacher is humility. This humbleness will manifest itself in several ways: First, it will prove to the instructor’s teacher that he is worthy of more learning. Once humility and teachability is proven, then the instructor’s teacher will impart more knowledge on the instructor, who will then be able to, in turn, pass that knowledge on to his own students. Second, the humble instructor has a much easier time keeping his students focused on “the spirit that quickens him”—Karate—than the egocentric instructor that spends his time telling his students how good he is. The humble instructor keeps his own personal influence out of the class, and allows the students to learn Karate themselves, so that it becomes a part of them in mind and body and spirit, rather than just a random set of mechanical movements. In the mind of the student, this lifts Karate from a hobby to a way of life. Which means that the students become disciples, not of the instructor, but of Karate.

Furthermore, the Karate instructor must be knowledgeable and be constantly increasing that knowledge. It is painfully obvious that, before a person can teach something, they must first know it. As Eric Hoffer once said, “In a time of drastic change, it is the ‘learners’ who will inherit the future. The ‘learned’ find themselves equipped to only live in a world that no longer exists.” The Karate instructor is called upon to know everything from the mechanical movements of kata to their bunkai applications, from First Aid to minor psycho-social counseling techniques, from basics to “secret” advanced techniques that will keep even the most self-reliant Brown Belt guessing. Instructors are called upon to know about other styles, personal safety, logic, tactics, prevention, strategy, body mechanics, and even anatomy. He is required to be a motivator, a disciplinarian, an encourager, and at times, even a parent-figure.

Now that we have a clearer understanding of the immense requirements and responsibilities placed on the shoulders of a Karate instructor, it becomes obvious that the methods of instruction must also be as diverse and flexible as the Karate instructor himself. The Karate instructor has more on his shoulders than just teaching punching and kicking; he has the responsibility to instill character in his students.

“Education has for its object the formation of character. To curb restive propensities, to awaken dormant sentiments, to strengthen the perceptions, and cultivate the tastes, to encourage this feeling and repress that, so as finally to develop the child into a man of well proportioned and harmonious nature—this is alike the aim of parent and teacher.” Herbert Spencer, Social Statics, p. 180 (1851)

“Karate strives to build character, improve human behavior, and encourage modesty. It cannot, however, guarantee it.” Ankoh Itosu (1831-1915)

“To educate a man in mind and not in morals is to educate a menace to society.” Theodore Roosevelt

“The ultimate aim of Karate-do lay neither in victory or defeat, but rather in the perfection of one’s moral character.” Gichen Funakoshi (1868-1957)

Since the ultimate purpose of Karate is to build character, then the first method of teaching Karate should be by example. The Karate instructor should be morally upright, honest, sincere, humble, and not prone to fits of egocentrism-inspired bravado or machismo. The Karate instructor should be the hero of his students. He should be active in his community and in the lives of his students, and inspire them with his positive attitude and firm moral base. This takes place as much outside of the dojo as within.

Once it is established that the Karate instructor is someone that the students can admire and trust, it is up to him to focus their admiration on the Martial Art itself, rather than him. This instills loyalty to the instructor and the school, as students are more prone to listen to a humble instructor than a self-interested one. It also instills loyalty to the style, as the students will associate good character qualities with the Karate itself, and believe that if they apply themselves, then one day, they too will be like their hero—their instructor.

Now that the students have their goal in sight, all they have to do is achieve it. To help them on their way, the Karate instructor must be a motivator. Karate practitioners of all levels must be motivated by outside sources. Some people are motivated by encouragement, others by demands to do better. Still others are motivated by pending tests or competitions—the chance to show-off in front of their family, friends, instructor, and fellow students. It is the job of a good Karate instructor to provide all of these as necessary.

It is also the Karate instructor’s job to occasionally withhold motivation, so that the students have the opportunity to learn how to motivate themselves. This strengthens their spirit, and teaches them to rely upon themselves (what Alcott calls “self-trust”), and to focus on Karate instead of their instructor (what Alcott means when he speaks of “guiding their eyes … to the spirit that quickens”).

Motivation is essential, and motivation comes from and is enhanced by confidence. As D. L. Feltz said in his book, Understanding Motivation, “You can do it if you just have a little confidence.” The karate instructor can motivate by building confidence with such techniques as creating situations where the experience will be a positive one for the student.

“Creating positive experiences is a strategy for coaches. Their teaching and leadership style, communication skills, coaching philosophy, knowledge, and experience will ultimately affect (positively or negatively) their athletes’ self-confidence level. … [T]here is a direct relationship between self-confidence and consistency in high-level performance (note carefully, this is performance level, not the competition outcome). Consistency in performance positively affects self-confidence, which in turn facilitates an optimal mind set: emotions, thoughts, and concentration. Further, an optimal mind set facilitates good performance, which enhances self-confidence, and so the cycle continues.” Artur Poczwardowski, Ph.D., “Your Self-Confidence and Your Performance,”
STADION News, vol. 4, no. 3, summer ’97, p. 2

In short, motivating and creating what Alcott calls “self-trust” (self-confidence) begins an upward-spiraling cycle that continues on its own to boost the student in all aspects of Karate. This will also have positive effects on other aspects of his life, which he will rightly attribute to his study of Karate and the good teaching of his instructor, which will in turn make him a better student, which will build his confidence, which will have even more positive effects on his life, and so on.

Now that the instructor has built up the student’s confidence, it is important that he then keep the student from becoming the egocentric, self-deifying type of individual that causes splits in Karate and deviation from the Way. The first dojo that I trained in had a banner on the wall, directly in front of where the newest students sat. It was written in Japanese, and for years I asked what it meant and was never told. Somewhere around Green Belt, when my talent started to show and my ego began growing with my abilities, I sought to enter tournaments, or test quickly, or do something to show off what I was learning. I wanted to assert myself as a candidate for the Alpha Male role. Around that time, my first sensei took me aside and told me what the banner said: “Do not treasure illustrious titles or certificates, but adhere to the Way and polish your technique, for the wind cannot read.”

That struck me as profound. As with Alcott’s words, these few words held volumes of hidden meaning for me. It became clear—at the time I needed to learn the lesson—that the importance in learning Karate wasn’t in seeing what I could do, but rather who I could become. This goes back to what Gichen Funakoshi and Ankoh Itosu said about character development. So, I was taking Karate not for exercise, nor so I could kick someone into next week, but rather so I could become a better person.

“We all agree that martial arts is good for people and for the community. The more people learning and living the principles of respect, self-control and discipline, the better for everyone. With that in mind, we have to ask ourselves: ‘If martial arts is so good for people, why aren’t more people involved?’” John Graden, How To Open and Operate a Successful Martial Arts School, p. 58 (1997)

It can be argued that Karate, properly taught, can change a person’s character and make them a “better person” suddenly full of “respect, self-control and discipline,” but this would be a poor argument at best. In this aspect, Graden shows his foolishness in believing that Karate is for everyone, and that running a “successful martial arts school” equates to running a school with more students than a university.

Re-read the quotations above about character. At no time does anyone ever say that Karate creates character, only that it builds or perfects character that already exists inside the individual. Therefore, Karate is not for everyone, and never will be.

“A person’s character never really changes. It only manifests itself differently from time to time. Always the true colors will come to surface … again, from time to time. … Serious commitment is reserved only for adults, rarely for children or the immature.” Robert Scaglione, Building Warrior Spirit, p. 22 & 67 (1990)

Here we have encountered the built-in en passe in Karate. The level of commitment, respect, and maturity that discipleship to Karate demands is higher than most people can or will ever achieve. Therefore, when a Karate instructor loses students, it is (provided he is a good instructor as defined earlier in this thesis) not because of poor instruction, but rather because of a character flaw within the psyche of the student.

Karate is not meant for everyone. It is for a select few, those superior individuals that understand what Mahatma Gandhi meant about brute force. And with the use of brute force comes a great responsibility. This is where most students and instructors will fall short—they simply can’t handle the responsibility that being a karateka brings. As a result, they end up defying their instructor at some point, by splitting, quitting, or attempting to usurp their own instructor. This is the ultimate show of disrespect and blatant examples of a serious character flaw. For these students, no matter how the instructor teaches them, they will eventually go astray. Likewise, the instructor that lacks or—as some unfortunately do—loses their way will lose their students to instructors more dedicated to the Way.

So, what is the best way for an instructor to teach Karate? By following Alcott’s advice. Good instructors will teach Karate because they love what they are doing, and not because they see it as a business. When you love what you are doing, then the teaching style becomes meaningless—especially when we realize that for every teaching style, no matter how off-the-wall or mainstream, there is someone out there for whom that is the perfect method by which they can learn. But, what makes a good teacher? Love. Love of Karate: learning, practicing, and teaching it. It is not the words used or the inflection in the voice that makes a good instructor, it is that something that shows through any façade. It is the character of the instructor. An instructor with good character will have students of the same, and those that lack their instructor’s level of integrity will ultimately fall by the wayside.

In the end, it all boils down to character—which makes sense, as character is, after all, the “ultimate aim of Karate-do.”

© MES, 1999