The point of this little article is that there may be no real point in writing it… but I did anyway. That is to say, there will always be Dojos with inexperienced or unqualified instructors, as well as those that promise high standards but deliver low. There will always be money-making Karate shops where belts are given away to load up the bank account.
So, what’s the point?
The point is awareness. The point is to ensure that society understands that Dojos span a vast range of quality and offerings. The point is to clear up some of the flimsiness behind claims of Martial Arts fame.
I am not trying to convince you to agree with me. My goal is to make you think—and talk—about these issues.
Some Martial Arts training halls follow the Budo path, while others do not. Some teach Karate, while others teach Karate-do.
Parents, and students themselves, need to understand what questions to ask when enrolling their kids—or themselves—in a Dojo. More importantly, they need to do their homework and ask themselves some key questions: What do I hope to get out of these classes? How much time am I willing to commit? Do I want to compete? Do I want a contact-free environment? Am I looking for a mind-and-body practice, or just physical exercise? Do I want to learn self-defense?
There are obvious red flags to look out for, such as a Dojo where one instructor teaches five different martial arts, or a Sensei who comes from an unclear or extremely short martial arts lineage. Frankly, martial arts schools are like any other business: some provide a deep, comprehensive experience, while others offer little more than fluff.
Anyone can teach anything, but not everyone can teach the essence of that thing—or know how to guide their students toward it.
If you’re a Black Belt and want to open a Dojo, that’s your prerogative. Many will do a great job, but others will open Dojos thinking they are the ultimate authority on all things Karate. The problem is that many students signing up for classes won’t know the difference.
Yes, you can learn the movements of a Kata or some Kihon from a book, the internet, or a few years of training. But to pass these on in an effective way, you need something much deeper. For example, I have degrees in Language Arts, Education, and Economics, all earned over five years. Does that make me qualified to teach someone Language Arts and give them a degree?
No. Karate is no different. The Shu Ha Ri concept exists for a reason: the path to becoming a Sensei does not have shortcuts. It is a progression. It is earned, not given. And it is not easy.
Similarly, when I was a teen, I had hockey coaches who loved the game, were dedicated, and watched a lot of hockey. But they had never played beyond occasional pick-up games. They helped me improve, and I admired them for that. On the other hand, I had a friend who moved to the mainland to pursue a hockey career. His coaches were trained, certified, and all had professional hockey experience. He went on to skate with the Hartford Whalers, while I continued skating in circles at my local rink.
If we own a Dojo that teaches self-defense, one of the most dangerous things we can do as instructors is promote students—especially to higher ranks—before they have a solid grasp of the material we’re teaching. This leads to false confidence in a skill that may fail them when they need it most. Worse yet is having instructors with little experience, propped up by YouTube tutorials, teaching people how to defend themselves in real-life situations.
The term “Sensei” suggests that someone who has traveled the proverbial path is well-positioned to guide those who follow. If this ‘path’ doesn’t involve hard training, consistent practice under a well-seasoned Sensei, a commitment to self-improvement, seminars, academic work, an understanding of teaching methods, and knowledge of Martial Arts beyond your own style—then it’s not a path, it’s a side street.
Recently, a special guest delivered a lecture to my students, as well as students from a Sensei friend of mine. His message focused on developing a warrior mindset, and he repeatedly stated: “Anyone who continues to learn is unstoppable.”
He’s right. And it’s equally true that anyone who stops learning stops progressing. I’ve been training in Karate for decades, and every time I train under a Sensei like Toru Shimoji, Jan Knobel, or Don Owens, I feel like a beginner again! They continuously refine what I think I know and offer new insights. Karate is an evolving art—if I stop being a student, how can I teach it?
We all know that over time, details get lost, and bits of information disappear. As it changes hands, it can get distorted, lost in translation. If there’s no solid foundation to begin with—insight gained through years of hard work and study—then over time the Karate becomes a shadow of its true self, no matter the style or origin.
Of course, some readers may ask: who am I to judge another Dojo? If I’m a Sensei, shouldn’t I be all-accepting and supportive of other Dojos?
If I’m a Sensei, I should be concerned about how Karate is becoming a catch-all term when, in reality, the quality and philosophy can vary immensely from Dojo to Dojo.
If a member of society walks into a Dojo, they have every right to ask questions: Who has the instructor trained with? How long have they been training? What rank do they hold? Who promoted them? Who do they currently train with? Is there contact in the training? What do they teach? What are their teaching methods? How long does it take to get promoted? Is this a sport, or more of a classic-style Karate? I use ‘classic’ here because the term “Traditional Karate” has come to mean many different things—and often those meanings don’t make sense.
The sport vs. classic-style Karate question helps determine if the style of Karate being taught aligns with what a student hopes to achieve in their training.
Of course, to some people, none of this may matter.
Again, my goal is not to belittle any Dojo. My point is simply to make people think about the fact that many Dojos promote themselves as ‘Traditional,’ ‘Okinawan,’ or ‘Complete’ Martial Arts, but if you look closely, the product often doesn’t match the sales pitch. Some instructors stay a few steps ahead of their students through internet research or by occasionally dropping into another Dojo, but this doesn’t guarantee a high-quality learning experience.
This isn’t something that keeps me up at night, but there’s a danger in it. Strapping a black belt on a child tells them they are now capable of great things—both in skill and in combat. But are they really? The answer can often be found in a simple question: Who taught them?
I should be clear: having decades of Karate under your belt doesn’t automatically make you a good teacher or Sensei. It’s about much more than that.
Am I suggesting that I know the ‘right’ way to train and teach? No, I’m not. But I have done my best to put my money where my mouth is. After nearly forty years of training, I still train weekly under my own Sensei, collaborate with local Sensei, and attend every Karate session I can to fill my cup with knowledge.
Yes, a Black Belt means you’ve conquered the basics, but in my instructor’s book, it also means you’ve learned how to be knocked down and get up again—physically and emotionally. To me, it signifies that you can summon a warrior mentality when needed. It means you’ve been exposed to realistic scenarios that have helped you understand your limits. It means that a Black Belt is just as much about your character—your nature—as it is about skill. Finally, it means you can defend yourself—for real!
My wish is that Dojos would promote themselves for what they truly are. If you only train for competition, that’s great. If you only teach the physical aspect of a Martial Art, that’s great. If you want to teach your own adaptation of a Karate style, that’s great. But don’t sell it as a ‘Martial’ Art or a Budo experience if it isn’t.
Can you call yourself a Skipper if you’ve honed your skills on an inshore pleasure craft and have never weathered a storm? Karate and Karate-do are not two sides of the same coin.
One of my Sensei, Shihan Jan Knobel of the Netherlands, often says that many ‘Traditional’ Karate Dojos are creating Paper Tigers—students who appear to have great Karate skills, but lack depth. There’s nothing wrong with being a paper tiger, unless you’ve been led to believe you can turn into Rickson Gracie when the need arises!
Perhaps it’s too late for this discussion, but it’s one we need to have. I am grateful for the national and international organizations that strive to keep Karate consistent and as true to its roots as possible. They help ensure that instructors and Sensei follow rules and teach according to a curriculum that covers various aspects of the Art.
Karate can mean many things to many people. We just need to ensure we clearly understand what it means to us.
Shu Ha Ri.
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Another well written article by Sensei Jeff Hutchings. His experience and in-depth knowledge is evident. I read this article 3 times and the content broadened my knowledge and opened my mind through another lens. I always look forward to reading your writings.