Among my friends there is one in particular that I think of when I hear the word “Warrior.”
My friend “M” (I use only an initial – out of respect for his privacy) is friendly and good-natured, but carries himself with an undeniable sense of confidence. Upon meeting him, you would agree that he seems both humble and comfortable with himself. From the martial arts perspective, one would say he is a very centered person. Like myself, he is under 6 feet tall and probably wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Yet beneath this unassuming appearance, lays a rather profound individual.
You see, M is a retired Army Ranger. He is a combat veteran with numerous deployments around the globe, a recipient of the Purple Heart, and undoubtedly the most deadly accurate person with a handgun that I have met in my life. M is in every sense a warrior, a patriot, and a true hero. He always carries a knife and I have no doubt he is skilled with it. I’m pretty sure he can also handle himself empty-handed as well. Despite this, you’d never hear him give himself these accolades. People like M don’t have to tell you “I’m a warrior,” because they are…and they know it.
I’m starting this post with M’s story because it represents reality. I do so in order to contrast it with a disturbingly common fantasy that is prevalent in some areas of the martial arts community in America these days.
The fantasy in question, is the abundance of martial arts students running around describing themselves as “warriors” and even invoking the word “combat” when they describe their on the mat training experiences.
Case in point: recently one of my assistant instructors was discussing martial arts with a co-worker at his company. The co-worker, a guy in his 20’s who studies Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, naturally felt his martial art was superior – which is his right. After all, if one didn’t believe in the martial art they were studying then it would be foolish to continue doing so, correct? However, when arguing the virtues of their different approaches (e.g. striking versus grappling), the co-worker became frustrated at one point and retorted, “you know nothing about combat!”
Upon hearing this, I just shook my head. Now I don’t know this fellow nor where he trains BJJ, but I would hope his instructor would slap him in the back of the head for making such a dumb comment.
Unfortunately this kind of wording has been bandied around quite a bit lately. While it probably makes good marketing for the schools who encourage these fantasies, it’s nonetheless as nauseating as it is delusional.
Still, it reminded me of a similar incident involving another friend of mine who is a life-long martial arts teacher, a military veteran, and another true hero. “D” (again, only using an initial out of respect for his privacy) is a former flight surgeon and combat medic. He too is a retired Army veteran with deployments to hot zones in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Kosovo where he administered trauma medicine on the battlefields, often while under fire and in austere conditions.
Well, a number of years ago, he related a similar story to me in which two younger fellows in MMA shorts walked into his school to inquire about lessons. At one point they questioned whether they would be required to wear “the funny pajamas” as their uniform and insisted they wouldn’t do so because, “we are warriors!” My friend D abruptly showed these two clowns the door, kicking them out of his dojo.
It’s comments like this that make people look really ridiculous, and show how out of touch they are with reality.
Before we go further, let me make one caveat… It would be different if the kind of people running around calling themselves “warriors” were actual professional fighters. By this I mean guys who train and fight for a living, not as a hobby. But this is not the case.
Going back to the discussion with my assistant instructor I suggested that the next time his co-worker (or anyone else for that matter) insists they are a warrior or that they are experts on the subject of combat, ask them these questions:
- Have you ever served in the military? Were you a combat veteran or ever deployed to a combat zone?
- Have you ever served in law enforcement? Did you ever have to go “hands-on” with a non-compliant suspect or employ pepper spray, baton, TASER or firearm in order to defend yourself?
- Have you ever worked in private security / close protection / executive protection / bodyguard work? Have you ever had to go “hands-on” with a non-compliant adversary to defend yourself or protect your client? Have you ever had to use your firearm or other weapons on the job?
I see… So the person calling himself a warrior is actually just a hobbyist who practices a martial sport in his spare time. He does this a few hours per week in a padded, controlled and air-conditioned environment against his classmates who are also paying to be there.
Then he’s not really a warrior and he hasn’t really been in combat on a regular basis against non-compliant, aggressive individuals who might be trying to seriously injure or kill him.
Ah, therein lies the difference.
The thing that makes my friends M and D real warriors (though they would never call themselves as such…) is that they served professionally in a capacity where their lives were actually in danger – and they could have been killed numerous times. There was no “tapping out” if things went bad.
Practicing martial arts (regardless of the school or style) doesn’t make one a warrior. Concordantly, sparring with a classmate doesn’t constitute combat. While you may be learning and training a martial art; you’re not in the real world where warriors don’t get to choose:
- The size, weight class, or experience level of their opponent.
- The number of opponents they will encounter.
- Where they fight (asphalt road, wet or filthy concrete floor, poorly-lit alley).
- The weapons employed by the opponent (brass knuckles, a shiv, knife, ice pick, baseball bat, tire iron, firearm).
- The presence of a referee to break-up the fight when one participant is incapacitated.
I would hope that words like warrior and combat be reserved for those to whom they apply and who deserve our respect and gratitude.
The Empty Cup 