Chinese martial arts is strongly linked to loyalty. That might not be apparent in today’s world where martial arts schools are necessarily businesses, or in competition where winning is about a trophy. In the twentieth century, an alternative name for Chinese martial arts was Guoshu—the National Art. That signifies loyalty to country.
Nationalistic themes are in a plethora of martial arts films. It’s hard to describe that without approaching xenophobia and the strong emotions every side has about past wars. A deep tie between battle and country goes back centuries and is the basis for themes of vengeance as duty. But these emotions have been amply manipulated by the powerful. It’s hard to extract only the healthy strain of loyalty.
Let’s focus on this instead. When I first visited Southern China to see the ancestral villages of those who had immigrated to the United States, ancient towers dotted the farmlands. I asked what they were. They were lookout towers where villagers scanned for approaching bandits. During an attack, men and women alike had to fight (you can see a legacy of that in the farm tools that are used in martial arts schools). Whenever a feudal state was invaded or during the times that China was invaded by foreigners, people again had to fight.
Many tales exist of people fighting with few weapons or with their bare fists. These were not the well-equipped, high-tech professional armies of today. These were peasants desperately trying to defend their homes, their families, and themselves.
Can you feel that pressing need, that absolute determination, the fear, and yet the fierce loyalty? That’s one of the powerful currents behind martial arts.
I’m Chinese American. So what does it mean to be patriotic? Which country am I loyal to? Of course, it means being loyal to the United States, of which I’m a citizen. But for me “loyalty” in a Chinese American context means also being loyal to the Chinese culture, its ethics and morality, and the history of my people. True, I was urged to preserve Chinese culture by relatives and my Chinese school teachers. But this loyalty means upholding a grand tradition. Even if I weren’t Chinese, I would have to acknowledge Chinese culture as one of the great world traditions. Since I’m born into it too, though, it’s even more important that I’m faithful to it.
How does that manifest in our time? No corny jokes to denigrate the art. No selling out for the sake of some short-term commercial benefit. Serious training as if it’s urgent. A fierce commitment to protect the weak and vulnerable. A righteous opposition to injustice and a determination to pass on this life-saving art. Yes, we live in safer times, but the possibility of civil disintegration or attack by an enemy is not impossible.
Loyalty is one factor that keeps my practice from becoming self-centered. By thinking of others, by resolving to protect others, by being constantly ready to answer the call, it means that martial arts are more than exercise, fighting prowess, or even personal fulfillment. All those are important, but when there is fidelity to a cause or to community, it diminishes selfishness and vanity.
We keep martial art in case we must save others—whether it’s one person or a nation. We keep our courage and exhort others to be brave, and we are vigilant—a lookout tower must always stand, be staffed, and be a silent monument to right.
_________