Not too long ago I got into a mild debate with some instructor or other – his name escapes me – at an online discussion forum. Reading too much into a single photo that was part of an article here at The Martialist, the instructor made what I thought were vague and condescending comments. He capped these with the delightful assertion that, as I interpreted it, the way he instructs law enforcement officials is far superior in application to similar material shared by others, especially those who don’t teach LEOs. He implied, in my estimation, that he could not share these effective techniques with the mere mortals frequenting a bulletin board, so all assembled would simply have to take his word for it.
Setting aside, for the moment, that anyone unwilling to share information shouldn’t be participating at an online discussion forum, let’s be clear about two things:
- Truth is not a function of one’s resume.
- There are no secret techniques.
Anyone who tries to assert differently should immediately earn our contempt. The first is a logical fallacy – the Appeal to Authority – and the second is just foolish. Anyone who makes an assertion (or who criticizes your honest presentation of an idea) but will not offer his or her own assertion in equal measure and detail is evading the issue. He or she has learned that it is easier to criticize than to create. The loudest critics online are those who create little or nothing themselves. The Web is rife with them. They are armchair martial artists.
My argument with the instructor – in which I ridiculed his responses fairly viciously, as I have no patience for online silliness related to the martial arts – managed to anger the participants at a small, low-traffic discussion forum in another country. I gather that these participants either know, or know of, the instructor in question. They were very angry that I did not afford him the deference they felt he deserved.
What all of them missed completely was the frank reality that respect must be earned. Anyone who offered the responses I ridiculed would have received the same treatment from me – for I brook no evasions when someone takes issue with me. I urge anyone reading this to do the same.
This does not mean I am never wrong, of course. (On the contrary – I am always learning, as I believe we all should be. This is why I encourage dissenting opinions in print at The Martialist and online at our discussion forum.) What it does mean, though, is that waving your resume around and demanding to know someone else’s law enforcement credentials and training (if any) doesn’t win an argument or settle an issue.
In the course of venting their ire at me, the foreigners I managed to irk took a few shots at me (as one would expect). One called me an “armchair martial artist.” I read that and literally laughed out loud sitting at my computer.
I’ve never claimed to be an expert of any kind. I will never tell you, “Agree with me because I am the publisher of The Martialist,” or, “I am right because I say so.” I do not, however, pontificate from ignorance. I train under two different instructors, spend a great deal of my free time researching the martial arts, and regularly publish this magazine. While that’s not the resume of a Jeff Cooper or a Chuck Norris (or even an Aaron Norris), it’s also not the profile of an inactive, uninvolved practitioner. I live and breathe what I do and I believe strongly in it.
Who, then, are the real armchair martial artists? They are the children (and the adults who behave like children) who comprise a vocal minority within the online martial arts and self-defense community. They’ll accuse you of egotism – because of a self-involved envy that you, not they, have taken the time to build something of value. They’ll happily criticize your efforts – while offering no efforts of their own. They’ll micro-analyze every photograph you publish – while offering for public scrutiny no photos of their own work. They’ll bitch and moan about the articles you haven’t written – because it’s easier to demand why a single article doesn’t cover the sum total of martial art since the dawn of time than it is to create even a single article of narrow scope. They’ll dash themselves on the rocks of their own anger, their own bitterness, their own insecurities – because you dare to have an opinion and defend it, committing the ultimate sin of failure to be convinced by their feeble efforts.
These are the armchair martial artists, who may indeed go regularly to their dojos and kwoons and halls. They dwell in the armchairs of their minds – soft places from which they spew their envious vitriol while fleeing mentally from the truth of their own failings.
To get up out of the chair, you must be willing to stand. You must be willing to create. You must be able to endure criticism, most of it ignorant. You must accept what Ayn Rand knew decades ago – that the good are often hated for being good. You must be willing to expend tremendous effort, knowing that you will receive few thanks but absorb much grief.
I am proud to believe that among The Martialist‘s readers there are no “armchair martial artists.” I know this is true because our readers contribute and because they participate. They get it – and I am honored to serve them while serving myself in bringing them, and you, this publication.
Helicopter pilot Ken Cox once spoke of how fascinating he found criticism – seeing himself through others’ eyes. He also referred, much later, to the hypocritical manner in which I believe the armchair martial artists hurl accusations at others. He called it “the pot calling the refrigerator black.”
The armchair martial artists know who they are.
They fear you.