matrix: what martial arts tries to be
2.1: assumptions and epistemology
2.3: common sources of knowledge about violence
2.4: strategy training
2.5: goals in training
2.6: thinking in the moment
CHAPTER 3: VIOLENCE
3.1: types of violence
Patterns of Violence
3.2: the four basic truths of violent assault
3.3: the chemical cocktail
Different Cocktails
Levels of Hormonal Stimulation
3.4: adapting to the chemical cocktail
Training and Experience
3.5: the context of violence
3.6: violence happens in places
3.7: violence happens in time
The Threat of Violence: You Have Time
Types of Hostage Takers
Acts of Violence: You Have No Time
3.8: violence happens between people
CHAPTER 4: PREDATORS
4.1: threats ain’t normal folks
4.2: the types of criminal
4.3: rationalizations
4.4: what makes a violent predator?
CHAPTER 5: TRAINING
5.1: the flaw in the drill
5.2: kata as a training exercise
5.3: responses to the four basic truths
5.4: operant conditioning
5.5: the whole enchilada
CHAPTER 6: MAKING PHYSICAL DEFENSE WORK
6.1: stages of defense: movement-opportunity-intent-relationship-terrain
6.2: the “go” button
6.3: the golden rule of combat
6.4: effects and actions
6.5: the big three
CHAPTER 7: AFTER
7.1: after
7.2: acute events
7.3: for supervisors
7.4: cumulative events
7.5: dealing with the survivor/student
7.6: changes
BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
By Steven Barnes
There is a “gap” between reality and fantasy, and that “gap” is where the novelist plays. Whether the reality of day to day life in marriage as opposed to the fantasy world of “falling in love,” the reality of the workaday world as opposed to the fantasy of “making it big,” or the reality of life and death combat as opposed to the fantasies of battlefield glory.
The gaps between these things are the meat of my profession. Because so few of us actually place our lives in jeopardy, ever face the reality of combat, or self-defense, of facing an aggressive human being, or discovering our own potential for violence, we are endlessly fascinated by images of the men and women who can and have done such things. We make them into heroes, we study them in books, we are hypnotized by their images on thirty-foot high movie screens, and pay those who can convincingly portray them staggering sums of money.
And behind much of our fascination is a question: what would I be in that context? Could I cope? And what would I become if I did? What would happen if I could not?
One of those who portrayed this hyper-effective fighting machine stereotype was, of course, Bruce Lee, and after Enter the Dragon, legions of young men swamped martial arts schools all over the world, seeking to be strong, to be brave, to be capable—to, in other words, deal with their fear that they would not be able. Or to feed their hunger to learn what that mysterious creature lurking in the back of their subconscious was really all about.
I remember during the early 1980’s, when training at the Filipino Kali Academy, a school maintained by Danny Inosanto and Richard Bustillo (two former Lee students), that every time a new class opened up, we’d be flooded by the LBKs—Little Blond Kids. They came in the doors with their eyes filled with dreams of martial glory. And we knew that the instant it got real, the instant we put on the gloves and actually started whacking each other, 90% of them would flee.
And friends, sparring in the school has a very limited application to what happens on the streets. Those of us who wanted to learn how to apply what we learned in an academic context to a real life and death situation studied texts by ancient samurai, killer monks, warriors of every culture—those who had actually been and done. We struggled to grasp the difference between fantasy and reality, between theory and application. Because the gap between them could cost us our lives.
Could we do it? And what if we could not?
I met Rory Miller about fifteen years ago, and was immediately impressed by an odd fluidity of movement that told me that he had endured long and intense practice in some effective physical discipline. I suspected martial applications. Over time, I learned about his background, and that his profession as a Corrections Officer placed him in the peculiar position of, as he said at the time, having “A fight a day.”
Every day? Against some of the most dangerous and desperate members of our society? This was not a theoretician. But more than his obvious skill, what impressed me was the quality of his relationship with his lady,
