Nino bernardo

Wing Chun and fighting – divorcing violence from violent intent

By Nino Bernardo

A lot of people confuse martial arts and fighting, but they are not the same, although there are certain overlaps and parallels.

I think of Wing Chun, the Chinese martial art I have studied for more than three decades, as a tool that can be used in different ways. For example, a screwdriver is a tool that is used for putting in screws or taking them out. However, you can also use it to stir your coffee.

Wing Chun can be developed as a fighting art, but I’m not particularly proud of that aspect. My advice to students is that if they’re going to fight, it’s better to just fight. They might be able to apply some of the lessons they’ve learnt from training, but it’s best not to get too hung up on individual techniques in the midst of a fight.

It’s better to avoid fights altogether. I believe that violent intent is a mental virus that is especially prevalent among young men. We must strive to delete that virus if we are to study Wing Chun in any depth.

If we remove violent intent from the equation, we can develop Wing Chun as a study of the human body. We become like engineers or architects, studying the biomechanics and structure of the body. This is a healthier attitude than trying to claim ownership of the whole system, as many students attempt to do.

The mindset that we should try to develop for chi sao (sticky hands), the combat-like game at the core of Wing Chun, is indifference. We should be patient, but prepared for surprises. We should be aware of our own fear and try not to get angry or frustrated. We should wait for opportunities, then develop crisp entries that minimise the risk to ourselves and our partners. There should be no intention to hurt or injure our partners. We shouldn’t wait for applause after finding an opening, but get out again quickly.

This indifference should extend to our attitude to ourselves and to our training partners. We should neither love ourselves for doing things right, nor beat ourselves up for doing something wrong. At the same time, we should be brutally honest to ourselves and to our training partners. There is no room for politeness, good manners or self-deception in a kwoon.

Another way of describing the mindset is one of innocence. Imagine a child picking up pebbles on a beach and examining each one. This is the attitude we should seek to cultivate in our study of Wing Chun. Contrast this approach with an adult frantically looking for their car keys.

I’d like you to imagine two high-level practitioners who have known each other for many years. They are enjoying an intense, high-speed session of chi sao in silence. Each one is studying one aspect of the art. Maybe one is deliberately making mistakes in order to make the other respond in one way. The other might be experimenting with a slight adjustment to the horse stance. The game proceeds with stalemate after stalemate.

Suddenly, an opening appears. A highly trained arm slips into the gap with a punch. The other practitioner doesn’t respond quickly enough. Bang! “Shit, sorry.”

They rest for a moment, while one of them goes to tidy up a bloody lip. They talk through what happened and then slowly experiment with different solutions. Why did the accident happen? How could it have been prevented? What moves would work as a counter?

Just as there are no wrong notes in music, an accident like this can prompt skilled practitioners to take their study of Wing Chun to a new level.

Now imagine two teenagers watching them. They decide to play chi sao. One of them punches the other. Bang! “Shit sorry.”

There’s an enormous difference between the two scenarios. In the first example, there was no intention to hurt one another. The accident was a side effect of two friends having an intense training session at high speed. They then used an accident as a trigger to slow down and examine the system in greater depth. In the second example, the teenagers made a very shallow analysis on what was going on and copied the least desirable effect, adding in a healthy dose of hypocrisy.

The idea that violent accidents can be divorced from violent intent has profound implications for our study of martial arts. It explains why the old kung fu teachers warned people to be careful not to wake them up because they might be dreaming of chi sao. Bang! “Shit, sorry.”

In the same way, Wing Chun practitioners have been known to punch would-be muggers before they were even aware they were being mugged. There is no intention to hurt anyone, but if someone grabs your arm with violent intent, your body responds automatically. Bang! “Shit, sorry.”

I have developed the view that we should remove violent intent from chi sao after many years of studying Wing Chun, first of all with my teacher Wong Shun Leung in Hong Kong, then in the Basement in London and now in my new school, the Ibiza Kwoon. I don’t want people to accept my interpretation as gospel, but to test my opinions.

If you decide to train with me, I only ask that you listen to what I say, watch what I do and copy it. See if it makes sense for you.

I think that if you listen, watch and copy with the right attitude, you will slowly notice side effects in other areas of your life. Your awareness of your surroundings might improve. Maybe you will notice improvements in your health. You might find you take more pride in your work. Don’t take my word for it. Try it and see.

Of course, other schools and teachers have different interpretations of the relationship between Wing Chun and fighting. Try them as well. Test their views.

Nino Bernardo will explore how to delete violent intent from chi sao at a two-day seminar in London on 23 and 24 July. For further information, please click here.