Knowledge as a Tool of Control

I think there is a valid argument in holding back knowledge from a student, especially in the context of the martial arts. There are advanced techniques – some of which may hurt the student (looking at you nunchaku) and some of which the student could use to seriously hurt others – that require a certain maturity in the student. I’ve written before about the short and brutal Core Bunkai, most of which end with twisting the neck to wrenching the head. Those techniques are serious and I would reserve them for a serious student that has the right mentality about them. I’ll also point out that many Okinawan styles rely on closing and grabbing, something which requires a high level of skill in and of itself regardless of any follow-on techniques. There’s a good chance a novice wouldn’t even be able to apply certain advanced techniques successfully even if they did “learn” them.

So controlling some knowledge is part of being a Sensei, as is determining when a student is ready for more. That’s just teaching. However, I want to use this post to discuss the darker side of this. The trap I fell into when knowledge is withheld, purposefully or maybe thoughtlessly, to keep a student… interested? Indebted? Controlled?

My Sensei told me a story of when his Sensei (“1^st Sensei”) visited from Okinawa on a trip with his friend, another Okinawan sensei who specialized in kobudo (“Kobudo Sensei”). After running himself ragged all across the state, my Sensei has amassed a huge enrollment of students. This was in the 1970’s so karate was all the rage and he had several hundred students moving through the various dojo. All classes were being taught my 3-4 low ranking black belts who were driving back and forth to cover it all. During this visit, 1^st Sensei saw this as a golden opportunity to make money. After all, he was the top of the pyramid. Kobudo Sensei recognized this and told my sensei, essentially, “You know he’s just going to use you for the money, right?” My Sensei was never going to be promoted or taught beyond the point where he wouldn’t be indebted to 1^st Sensei because 1^st Sensei wouldn’t be make as much money if he wasn't seen as the fount of all wisdom.

So Kobudo Sensei taught my Sensei the last few Goju-ryu kata. Particularly Supairenpei, but possibly Kururunfa as well. Kobudo Sensei wanted to “complete the system” and give my Sensei a modicum of control over his art.

This story cut me to the core. It was my story. Here I was, a dedicated Sandan, yet my old Sensei wasn’t engaging with me, wasn’t giving me an opening at all. I was ranks away from “completing the system” given that this was a Godan requirement. (Just to keep score, that wasn’t one promotion away, it was two: sandan-hoà sandan à yondon à godan with about five non-Goju kata to learn in between.) My old Sensei wasn’t pushing me to learn Supairenpei or any other requirements. They were waiting until I asked and, I think, shelled out money for more private lessons to learn it. (Also layer in a lot of talk about Chi and energy work. 🙄)

When my (new) Sensei taught me Supairenpei, it meant freedom. It meant closure. It meant I didn’t have to “Mother, May I?” for another… three? Four? Five years? Just to finish a system I had already spent 25 years training in.

I don’t know if I would have been able to break away from my old Sensei if I didn’t have the Goju-ryu syllabus completed. I certainly would not have felt comfortable opening an independent dojo on my own. I was fully in thrall to the knowledge they had and was desperate to have it. Even now, it kills me thinking of the requirements that my old teacher didn’t pass on. Many of which came from their teacher. Sunsu, Rohai, Hakutsuru… but Supairenpei was definitely the crown jewel.

In hindsight, my old sensei did this all the time. They talked about “layers” to bunkai, promising more advanced techniques with deeper understanding, but we never revisited any of that. Certainly nothing as coherent as my attempt at Thematic Bunkai. The dojo had promotional requirements listed out to Hachidan and a weapons rack sporting equipment that was never taught to anyone as far as I know. For example, Chinese butterfly swords, sansetsukon, naginata… and honestly kama and tonfa since I never learned them and never saw anyone else practicing with them. Maybe it was just a collection… but the promise of knowledge was still there. The mystique of it, for sure.

I remember once I reached a certain rank (I think it was nidan), this Sensei moved a required partner drill up higher in the curriculum and didn’t teach it to me. In this case, the drill was the final part of a four-part series. So I know parts 1-3, but not 4. The explanation was that the moves were very physical, almost acrobatic, and would be tough to learn and train in our space. Of course, I was 20 years old at this time, so I don’t know how waiting 10 years would make me more acrobatic… Lord knows I’m not jumping now.

Maybe this hits me hard because of my completionist tendencies, but for a teacher who absolutely harped on “propagating the art”, I don’t remember information being freely shared with anyone.

I certainly wasn’t like this with my students. I remember trying to cram requirements into their brains from the start. The founder of my old organization, my old Sensei’s teacher, also wasn’t like this. From my own memories, from interviews he gave, and from some of his other senior students, he was a man who knew a lot and wanted you to learn it too.

I think I always recognized this need for control from my old teacher and always pushed against it. When I graduated high school I gave them a commemorative token that was inscribed with something like “The best teachers teach students to walk on their own” as a thank you. Stupid gift, I know, I was 18, but I don’t think they appreciated the sentiment. That dependence was their bread and butter. And it poisoned the dojo, the organization, and ultimately left them without any students. Mind-boggling, to be honest, to teach karate for over twenty five years in a formal setting and not have a single student above sandan. When you try to use knowledge as a tool of control, especially in the Internet Age, you shouldn’t be surprised when students realize your game and find that knowledge elsewhere.