On Discipline

Discipline is the cornerstone of attaining success in the martial arts. It is arguably the most important component for achieving success in any aspect of life (with luck and skill thrown in too of course).

However, what is discipline? Often times discipline is evoked by instructors telling their students to stand up straight, focus, bow to seniors, or remember to keep their fist tight consistently. It is that thing that people lack, and that instructors often beat their heads against a wall trying to give to students. The problem is that discipline is not a thing that anyone can teach to someone else, which is what makes it such a valuable resource.

Succinctly put, discipline can be defined as “self-control.” It is the ability to exert one’s willpower over their actions.

This trait is entirely derived from one’s own self, of the control that the practitioner has on their life and the choices that they make. For this reason, it cannot be taught to others. It must be cultivated within a person, not handed to (or drilled into) them as an external idea.

Because of this, superficial discipline is easily discernable from real discipline. Superficial discipline may appear when practitioners excel at the niceties and politeness of protocol, but have sloppy technique. They have focused their attention to the aspects of discipline that are most on the surface, because those are the places that passively interact with others.

However, the manifestation of deeper aspects of that self-control never appear. They have not exerted that willpower over the mastery of techniques, of training, and of improving their skill in the actual martial art that they train in. More true discipline manifests by adapting to corrections in one’s technique, or pushing oneself to the limit of one’s ability, or even simply showing up on time to train at every opportunity one commits themself to.

Truly, real discipline emerges no matter who else is around. And, in fact, is most salient when no one is around, since it is self-control exerted upon a person’s own actions alone.

When true discipline is achieved, it permeates all aspects of a person’s life. The practitioner’s martial technique will show the devotion paid to it, yet their protocol will reflect the values they have learned from that development. Their politeness will pour from the wellspring of the lessons that training has shown them, not from being told what politeness is and how to show it.

True discipline emerges out of hard work and training, and cannot be taught as a “thing” unto itself.

If the training itself is not the focus, then what right do we have to call ourselves “martial artists”? If only protocol is stressed, then we forsake the “martial” — simply becoming polite shells of practitioners whose technique does not matter, in capturing only the façade but never the true lessons of the inner power of martial practice.

On Competition

Many are mistaken about the nature of competition. In Volume One, Chang Ip Jang Nim clearly distinguished that Soo Bahk Do was an "art" not a "sport," because its training does not yield winners and losers. This is not an indictment on competition, but rather on the perceptions to which we bring to competition. The result of competition is not what is important, what is important is the process.

Perhaps the most "successful" coach in American history, John Wooden, has always stated that true success in competition comes not from winning, but from the preparation and effort along the way. He writes that:

"...there is great joy and satisfaction in competing against an opponent who forces you to dig deep and produce your best... The worthy opponent brings out the best in you."

The secret to competition is not that it is a place for deciding winners and losers, but that it challenges people to push themselves, both in their preparation and in the ring. If you never have the opportunity to test yourself, you will never push yourself to achieve something more. A martial artist who does not want to improve themselves is one who invites stagnation and death. Wooden describes this further:

"Most all good things come through adversity... We get stronger when we test ourselves. Adversity can make us better. We must be challenged to improve, and adversity is the challenger."

In Soo Bahk Do, we were challenged as a group when Chang Ip Jang Nim passed away. It created changes that we as a Federation still struggle to overcome. As individuals, we challenge our abilities through competition. Tests and clinics do not do this. They only allow us to push ourselves to fixed goals set out before us. The goals in competition are unlimited, because the abilities of our opponents are unknown. We are forced to strive to be our best, both in preparation and in the ring.

Personally, my best came when I fought the "Giant" from Minnesota in the team competition at Nationals a few years ago. It was a match that I didn't even win: we tied. Yet, I consider it my greatest achievement in Soo Bahk Do competition, because it forced me to challenge myself — to adapt, to dig deep, and to make myself better. I can only thank him as an opponent for giving me the opportunity to improve myself.

I cannot speak to any knowledge of it, but it would seem to me that those who wish to do away with competition do not understand its uses and benefits. Perhaps, instead of doing away with competition, we should strive instead to educate and promote a better understanding and perception of what good it serves. Otherwise, I fear we will be forsaking the "martial" for the "art" and ending up with neither.