Reader RB wrote in to ask me some questions related to martial arts, and how to go about choosing the right art for personal training needs:

I was reading your blog the other day and ran across the post you have about Vox Day gently mocking the ‘Brazilian cuddle-puddlers’. In it you mentioned that you would give people advice about martial arts if they wanted. Well, if you’re still doing that, I’d be very grateful for any advice – and if you’re too busy, I more than understand.

I’m a thirty year old guy, and I want to learn a martial art, but unfortunately, I’ve read too much and now I don’t know which is better – the MMA guys say everyone else’s sucks, Jiu-Jitsu guys say theirs is the best one, Wing Chun seems cool but gets some hate, Vox says Aikido is the most generally useful one but everyone seems to run that one down – I’m rather lost.

My tentative plan was Aikido per Vox’s recommendation, coupled with Judo and later Boxing, but I’m definitely uncertain, so any words of wisdom would be greatly appreciated – I’d rather not spend ten years finding out the best arts if I can help it.

There is a lot to get into here, so let’s get started with the post that RB is referring to. That would be the one where I looked at the video in which our beloved and dreaded Supreme Dark Lord (PBUH), Voxemort the Malevolent, dissected Toe Rogan’s mitt-work and concluded that the man didn’t know how to actually fight.

As I said in my post on the subject, I agreed with His Voxness based on my experience in Krav Maga, kickboxing, and muay thai. The Dark Lord followed up on that video with another one talking about BJJ using terms like the epic “Brazilian cuddle-puddle”, which absolutely enraged the BJJ community and was likely responsible for quite a few coffee-stained monitors across the world.

Now, I was asked for advice about “which martial art is best”. As I have pointed out many times before, this is a highly subjective and speculative term and I do not answer such questions based on whether I personally believe one art to be better than another. I answer it instead based on what the individual in question wants to get out of studying a martial art.

There are any number of factors that go into making this decision. It is not an easy one and is intensely personal. As my teacher likes to say, “martial arts is the highest level of human self-expression”, and as such every person needs to decide for himself or herself which art suits his or her own purposes best.

(Side note: I know personally the guy who made the video in that last link. He’s a friend of mine, a blue brown belt in Rhon Mizrachi Krav Maga and a double 4th Dan black belt in tae kwon do who has done international exhibitions in the latter art. He’s also a southpaw and one hell of a good kickboxer. Sparring with him was always interesting and very challenging. On top of that, he happens to be a highly skilled marketing and advertising specialist with many years of experience. It just goes to show how diverse the backgrounds of top martial artists really are.)

So the question I would ask is not “which art is best”. The question I think is much more important is “which art is best for me?”

This is hard to answer because everyone is different. Everyone carries different baggage with him – different injuries, different experiences, different levels of self-control and aggression, different desires for contact, and of course different fitness levels.

Speaking from my personal experience, here are the three most important criteria that I would use for judging a martial art:

1. Is it widely applicable in a broad range of real-world situations and scenarios?
2. Is it possible to engage in full-contact sparring early on during training?
3. Is it possible for ANY fitness level to engage in this art?

The first criterion rules out almost every “ancient” martial art, and most competitive ones as well.

You see, the reality of most martial arts such as karate, savate, tae kwon do, judo, and even jiujitsu (Brazilian or Japanese), is that they were born on battlefields of eras long past. The striking and grappling techniques demonstrated in each one of these arts is specific to a particular range of situations. Over time – centuries, in some cases – those techniques and methods were gradually refined to focus on competitive situations, because the reality for most practitioners was that they were not about to ride off into battle in their own lifetimes.

Believe it or not, the incidence of war in one’s own lifetime is actually pretty rare. Although conflict and warfare are ever-present around the world, the actual probability that you, personally, will ever be in a combat situation is pretty tiny. And that has been the case throughout most of human history; the overwhelming majority of people who have ever existed, never knew war and conflict directly.

These long periods of peace – though not necessarily prosperity – meant that practitioners of martial arts needed to have a way to keep their skills sharp without killing their partners and opponents. Which is why, just as mediaeval jousting allowed the knights and lords of old to keep their fighting skills sharp in preparation for real wars involving massed cavalry and infantry charges, competitive martial arts developed as a way of allowing judoka and karateka and savateurs and so on to practice their skills.

The problem with competitive arts is that those same practitioners had to devise rules designed not to inflict permanent damage, to the greatest extent possible – so the arts were watered down significantly from their origins. This was unavoidable. You only get good at fighting by fighting – and you have to be alive for the next fight, obviously, so that you can learn from your mistakes in the previous one.

By necessity, this means that many of the ancient martial arts are designed for situations and scenarios that are deliberately limited in terms of their relevance to the real world. To give just one simple example, karate stances and kata, such as those extremely powerful but rigid punches that it is known for, were designed for samurai to fight other samurai clad in bamboo armour – which meant that those punches had to be powerful enough to break through such armour and cause serious damage to an opponent.

Which is why so many modern karateka spend so much time smashing their fists into wood and bricks to harden their bones and knuckles.

Is that directly relevant to modern urban combat? Ummm… no.

So, if you learn an art designed for fighting against single combatants wielding swords and pikes, then you are going to be horribly badly prepared for real-world situations where you may well be facing multiple attackers and weapons ranging from knives to short sticks to firearms with bayonets.

That does not mean that studying these arts is without merit. It simply means that you are preparing yourself for situations that may not be relevant to what actually happens these days when shit gets real.

The second criterion relates directly to the first. I am a very strong proponent of taking real contact and impact. If you train in an art where the rules say that you cannot make contact, then you are going to be very, very good at kicking and punching the air – but the moment that you actually get hit, you are going to freeze because you have literally no idea what happened.

I speak from real personal experience when I say this. I completed my yellow belt test for Rhon Mizrachi Krav Maga in early 2014. I thought I was a badass because I “knew” how to kick and punch. The reality is that I didn’t know shit, and that was exposed the moment that I walked into my first sparring class.

I’ll never forget the fear and hesitation that I had in that first class. I remember feeling extremely nervous when I put on boxing gloves for the first time and walked over to box with an orange belt – and I will certainly never forget the feeling of that first punch to the face.

My brain just froze. I had no idea what had happened to me. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move.

Then training and instinct took over and I started to respond, but very badly and ineffectively. I had no clue what I was doing because I had never taken real contact in my life until then – and I was in my late twenties when I started to learn how to fight.

It took me nearly 6 months to get to the point where I could fight at least halfway effectively. But now I relish the fight. I came to love sparring. The weekly sparring lessons would be something that I looked forward to – and I would go to them on Thursday evenings, less than 24 hours after truly brutal leg days involving a scary volume of squats and deadlifts. I still miss sparring, intensely. I long for the days when I can walk onto a mat, touch gloves with someone, and proceed to punch and kick my way to exhaustion.

I do not fear getting hit (at least, with boxing gloves), because I know what I can take – and I know damned well that I am simply tougher than many of the guys that I fight. I am stronger, I am more resilient, I am better trained, and I am definitely much more willing to feel pain than them. My former sparring partners didn’t call me “Titanium Shins” and “the Terminator” for nothing.

And I do not fear getting punched with a fist nearly as much as I used to – I’ve been punched in the face with a naked fist, I know what it feels like, and I know damned well just how much punishment I can take.

So, as far as I am concerned, full-contact sparring is absolutely non-negotiable. If a martial arts school doesn’t allow for it or only allows for “light sparring” with no blows to the groin, the head, or anywhere on vulnerable parts of the body, then it isn’t useful.

(The exception to this is kyokushin karate, but it’s not much of an exception. That particular style of karate utilises an interesting style of sparring which uses bare fists, or at most light 7oz gloves, and so does not permit punches to the face and concentrates on punches to the chest and ribs instead. But it has absolutely no problem with close-range roundhouse kicks to the head – and kyokushin karateka have remarkable kicking skills.)

The third criterion is all about assessing your own personal needs, and only you can answer it.

Let’s take my own example. I started martial arts at the age of 28. I am now in my mid-thirties. I carry moderate to serious injuries to every single load-bearing joint on my left side, except for my left ankle. My hip and knee hurt all the time. My lower back is fragile and always has been.

So for me, training for actual competitive purposes is pretty much out of the question. While I am considerably stronger in raw powerlifting terms than roughly 99% of all pro martial artists out there – even in the UFC, very few professional fighters squat and deadlift anything like the weight that I can – I am in no position whatsoever to train long-term for cage-fighting matches.

(On the other hand, those fighters who do deadlift a lot, are also among the most explosive, dangerous, and feared ones in the game.)

Others who take up martial arts are, I hope, injury-free. But maybe you are overweight and have poor cardio. In that case, training in MMA is probably not a great first choice. You will likely be better off with something a bit gentler and less aggressive – like BJJ.

While we are on the subject of BJJ practitioners who claim that BJJ beats everything – let’s be clear about this: it doesn’t. BJJ is a phenomenal ground-fighting art and works exceptionally well against a single opponent. But the moment you get into a multiple-attacker situation, it becomes useless.

My friend and fellow shitlord Last Redoubt used to train in BJJ. As he once put it:

It’s great to be able to take one guy down to the ground. Now what about his three buddies?

Well exactly. BJJ is terrific in that one-on-one environment. But against multiple attackers it is totally pointless.

I also think that BJJ teaches some very dangerous and genuinely stupid concepts when it comes to defending against knives and guns. I don’t care how skilled you are as a BJJ grappler – if you grab someone with a knife on him and take him down into a cuddle-puddle, you’re going to die. The best defence against a short sharp-edged weapon is distance, and if you grapple with someone, you are by definition seeking to reduce that distance.

So, you need to find a style of training that suits your own particular fitness level, your personal goals, and your desire to take contact.

If you just want to get fit, then there is nothing particularly wrong with those cardio-kickboxing clubs like CKO Kickboxing. Personally I think those classes are a joke, but that is because I actually know what it means to punch and kick. I attended one class of theirs on a day when my Krav Maga school was closed for a public holiday, and what I saw made me swear that I’d never come back. They were simply letting people whale on heavy bags without knowing what the Hell they were doing.

But I’ll readily admit that those types of classes are a great way to lose weight.

If you want to look good when throwing stances and punches and kicks, take any decent karate or tae kwon do class. It’s fun, it’s good exercise, you get to do some cool stuff, and you’ll look good in photos.

If you want to engage in real fighting, on the other hand… try muay thai, wing chun, a decent boxing gym, or any legitimate BJJ or judo school. Judo, in particular, is a highly technical and aggressive art – far more aggressive than BJJ – and focuses much more on the stand-up aspect of fighting than its more ground-based Brazilian and Japanese counterparts.

As far as aikido goes, I would give it a miss. I don’t consider aikido to be a particularly useful modern martial art. It is not effective in either the striking or grappling departments relative to other, more modern arts. Aikido is a modern martial art, but its origins come from arts like karate that were born in a day and age when samurai would face each other in direct combat using swords, spears, and pikes. So aikido focuses on dealing with long-ranged weapons and disarming opponents with throws and joint locks.

In real life, these joint locks are not useful if they are not backed up by serious blunt force in the form of punches and kicks. I have trained in knife- and gun-disarming techniques that use joint locks similar to the ones you see in aikido, but by themselves they do nothing. The only thing that really stops an attacker with a weapon is serious violent force in return. Not for nothing does my teacher insist that, if you can’t punch someone, you sure as shit can’t defend against his knife attack.

I have immense respect for boxing, by the way. I think that boxing is a highly technical art that requires tremendous skill. I love watching old-school boxers with their intricate footwork, head movement, and striking patterns. I believe that combining boxing with muay thai and judo or BJJ provides a near-complete skill set for fighting in all situations.

A few notes on MMA, since RB brought it up:

The thing to remember about mixed martial arts is the “mixed” part. MMA involves combining multiple disciplines into a particular fighting style. No modern MMA fighter relies on one skill set, because no martial art is complete. It is impossible to find a complete martial art that always works against everything and never has any weak points. The very idea is absurd.

If you look at the best MMA fighters on the planet, they tend to be wrestlers first – Khabib Nurmagomedov, the Eagle of Dagestan, is a great example of this. They then add to that skill set by utilising serious striking techniques from muay thai and boxing.

MMA is, as Toe Rogan once put it, high-level problem solving under immense pressure with seriously violent consequences for failure. It is as close to real street fighting as you can legally get.

But it is still not true fighting.

There are still rules in place. There are still time limits to rounds. There are still banned strikes. MMA still, despite its bloody and nasty origins, has more rules, especially these days, than its ancient Greek ancestor of pankration, which allowed for almost any strike and grappling technique other than eye-gouging and biting.

MMA fighters are certainly tougher and more skilled, by far, than the average man or woman. They will have tremendously higher odds in a real unarmed fight. But against a knife or a gun, they are just as dead as you or me.

Here is where I would normally plug for my chosen art of Krav Maga, or a military-style training system such as MCMAP, or any relevant civilian version of the same – such as systema, which is marketed as derived from Система Спецназ, a form of Russian military combat training, or Dr. Dennis Hanover’s hisardut survival system.

But I have to insert a strong warning here. Most Krav Maga schools are pure bullshido from start to finish. There are very few genuine, legitimate schools out there which teach Krav Maga the way that its founder, Imi Lichtenfeld, intended, and which obey the principles and core concepts that he devised.

I know of many of those schools. I do not consider them to be legitimate. There are a few that I respect and like, but they are all on the East Coast – very few of the Californian schools setup by Darren Levine,  are worthy of the name of Krav Maga.

I could easily go on and on about this subject for some weeks yet, but ain’t nobody got time for that shit, so let me wrap things up with a few more points:

Don’t get hung up on that whole stupid “my art is better than yours” argument. It’s all nonsense. There is no such thing as the “best” art. As I pointed out to RB in my personal response to his email, every art has flaws and no art provides a complete skill set. Even MMA practitioners acknowledge and recognise that MMA itself has limitations that Krav Maga does not – because every martial art is designed for a different set of scenarios and purposes.

Just go check out a school that meets your requirements, subject to what I’ve written above. Most of them offer a free introductory class, so take them up on it, and see what kind of vibe you get from being there. If you feel intimidated even in a class full of beginners, then don’t stick around. If, on the other hand, you feel warmly welcomed and the instructor attends to you personally to give you tips and advice, then you’re probably in a good place.

Take a look at how some of the senior students carry themselves. In many muay thai gyms, you will generally see a distinct hierarchy, where the senior guys definitely have an attitude toward the “fresh meat”; in those schools, you really have to earn your position there through a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. Many Krav Maga schools, on the other hand, are really quite friendly to new people. And BJJ schools generally have a reputation for being fun places to go and bond and hang out with interesting people.

Ask how soon you are allowed to spar. If they tell you that no sparring is allowed, then GTFO.

Ultimately, if you decide to take up a martial art, remember that it’s about the journey. At most 1% of people who take up a legitimate martial art in a really tough school will make it to black belt.

Most of the guys walking around with “black belts” in karate and tae kwon do these days wouldn’t be able to fight their way out of a paper bag, whether they know it or not. I don’t fear them because I know that once I get past their kicks, they have nothing left – and that means that I can grab them, take them down, and maul them at will, or simply unleash a flurry of muay thai-style leg kicks that will leave them limping. And I only have a green belt in Rhon Mizrachi Krav Maga.

What martial arts gave me was not the black belt. That’s merely an outward testimony to the skills of a real fighter. What the study of martial arts really gave me is of far greater value than that.

It gave me purpose. It gave me strength. It gave me a measure of immunity to pain. It gave me a burning desire for self-improvement. It gave me stoicism, inner peace, and calmness in the face of adversity.

Above all, though, it gave me a family – a brotherhood that I have left physically but will never, ever leave spiritually. I miss my brothers terribly and long for the day that I can see them again, touch gloves, and partake in the joyous expression of skill and movement that is true sparring.

That is the real reason to take up martial arts. Learning how to defend yourself is a nice side bonus. The friends and family that you make along the way is what will keep you going once the initial high of achieving that first belt wears off.

I’ll leave off with an example of that brotherhood in action, just to show that no matter how great you are in other fields, on the sparring mat you are just like anyone else: