Deception is an essential combative skill.
We use kata to develop speed, power, flexibility, endurance, body architecture, determination and focus.
We use bunkai to work targeting, initiative, positioning, shifting, contact and flow.
Deception is trained in kumite.
Sun Tzu, in his ancient book the Art of War, says the essence of war is deception. He wrote about it in his chapters on tactics, strategy, maneuver, terrain and spies. Every fighter knows he is right.
But we need to be clear about the implications of this – in training, self-defense, and in our lives.
Before General William Tecumseh Sherman gave the order to burn Atlanta, he told the people to abandon their homes and fields, or they would die in the flames.
They understood when he said: “War is hell.”
Karl von Clausewitz’ learned the lessons of defeat. He was a young officer when Napoleon rolled over Europe, raiding and killing, from Paris to Moscow.
For Clausewitz war was an extension of politics – a means to power. He viewed war – death, devastation, fear and despair – as one of the tools of statecraft, along with persuasion, diplomacy and deal-making, to be used as needed.
Sun, Sherman, and Clausewitz emphasized different things: War is deception. War is hell. War is business. No need to fight about it. They’re all right.
What about martial arts? What do we learn as we learn to fight? What are we cultivating?
Health and fitness. Focus and flexibility. Courage and confidence. Sure. But those aren’t the only habits we are building.
We learn deception. In kumite we fake, counter, shift, change tempo, timing and direction, we evade and strike from multiple directions, too fast for our opponent too handle. We are deceptive. We get good at it. It is necessary to win.
Sun Tzu’s analysis describes single combat as well as war. We do not telegraph our intention, we are not predictable, repetitive or obvious, in our plans, actions or responses. We assess our opponent and surprise him, intimidate him, exhaust him. We defeat his expectations. We fake him out.
If you can, you might overwhelm your opponent with blunt force. If you are mismatched in speed, power and skill, you can rely on Clausewitz’ “application of overwhelming force at the decisive point.” Target the schwerpunkt. Bang. He’s down.
Robbers, muggers and thieves do that. They go for easy prey.
But to defend against a bigger, stronger competitor, we need deception. In a combative, defensive situation, we may need to add to our empty hand fighting skills – we might use objects, obstacles, cover, and distraction. We use all dimensions of deception to neutralize the opponent’s advantage and prevail.
We practice deception in fighting. It works. There is a danger that it may become a natural way to think, outside the world of combatives. Calculating. Disguising. Storytelling. Misdirecting. Dominating. Little by little, that way of angling for advantage turns relationships from win-win to zero sum.
People who work in the worlds of war or intelligence live in a place where lies work. Lies are good. The better you are at deception the better you are at your job. Like show business. You live your life in a house of mirrors. Clever. Cunning. Trapped. Solitary. Hungry. Fearful. On the lookout. On the prowl.
That is dangerous for them, and for everyone they touch.
We do not want to cultivate that frame of mind.
Everyone who handles dangerous things – weapons, chemicals, vehicles, tools – learns to use them safely. Watch the muzzle and trigger discipline on a range full of professional shooters, a pilot going through his preflight checklist, a diver checking his gear. You will not see bravado. You will see safety in action.
Well-trained people use their tools with purpose. If we use ours for the wrong reasons, we will migrate from “war relies on deception” to “life relies on deception.”
Then, instead of war is hell, we get life is hell.
In Iraq a while back General Mattis told young Marines how to deal with their new home: “Be polite. Be professional, but have a plan to kill everyone you meet.” At that time, in that unfamiliar, dangerous place, as invaders, as strangers, he was giving them practical advice.
Some people tried to adopt this as a way of life. They took an idea made for a narrow application and let it spread like an oil slick over their lives. That fails.
We apply deception when we need it, in the heat of conflict.
Deception tears the fabric of reality. It destroys relationships and groups. It devours the heart of the liar.
As we train our fighting skills, as martial artists, we cultivate honesty: in assessing our skills and performance; in our attitudes toward the people we train with; our goals, the values that guide us, and the techniques we are learning.
We choose the right tools when we need them, for the best way forward.
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Post copyright Jeffrey Brooks © 2024
Featured image Anastase Maragos via unsplash
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“One of the best books I’ve read in years, inviting and compelling. Jeff Brooks moves effortlessly from martial arts to Buddhism to consciousness studies, self-transformation, and related fields in this wide-ranging and Illuminating study that has much to offer both novice explorers and veteran practitioners. A splendid achievement.”
— Philip Zaleski, Editor, The Best Spiritual Writing series
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