One of the most common questions from students of traditional karate is why the way we train often looks so different from the way we fight. Even beginners notice the difference between kihon and what they see in kumite. Why do we practice deep, formal stances when fighters use higher, more natural positions? Why do we perform large blocking movements when the defensive actions in fighting are often much shorter and faster? If we’re practicing techniques to prepare us for fighting, wouldn’t it make sense to practice them exactly as we intend to use them?

Recently, a beginner raised this very question in r/kyokushin, a Reddit community that I help moderate. He asked whether practicing kihon was similar to a musician practicing scales. I’m not a musician myself, although both my daughters have studied music, so I’ve spent enough time listening to scales to appreciate the comparison. I think he was on the right track, and I’d like to expand on it.

Learning the Fundamentals

When someone learns a musical instrument, practicing scales is an important part of developing ability. Scales help musicians develop coordination, control, timing, and familiarity with their instrument. A beginning pianist has to learn which fingers to use, how to coordinate both hands, and how to play notes smoothly and at the right tempo. Initially this requires considerable concentration, but with practice the movements become increasingly natural.

Of course, learning scales doesn’t automatically make someone a good musician. The student must eventually take the abilities developed through those exercises and apply them to increasingly complicated pieces. They have to learn how notes fit together, how to maintain rhythm, and how to express the music rather than simply play the correct notes. Yet many accomplished musicians continue practicing scales long after they’ve learned them. They aren’t doing so because they’ve forgotten how. They use familiar exercises to work on timing, precision, consistency, and coordination. Other musicians prefer to develop those same abilities through the music they perform.

A beginner and an accomplished pianist can practice exactly the same scale, but they aren’t necessarily working on the same things. The beginner may be concentrating on placing the fingers correctly and playing notes in the proper sequence. The experienced musician already knows those things and can focus on smaller details of timing and control the beginner may not even recognize yet. The exercise hasn’t changed, but what the musician gets out of it has.

I look at kihon in much the same way. When we practice formal karate techniques, we’re not simply memorizing movements we’re expected to reproduce exactly in a fight. We’re developing coordination, balance, body control, and an understanding of how different parts of our body work together. Consider a beginner learning seiken chudan tsuki. Initially the student may struggle to coordinate the punch with the movement of the hips and legs while maintaining the correct stance. An experienced karateka can perform that sequence without consciously thinking about each movement, allowing more attention to alignment, weight transfer, timing, relaxation, and other details.

The technique may look much the same, but the understanding behind it has changed. Just as practicing scales develops abilities a musician uses when playing more complicated music, kihon develops abilities we use when performing more complicated martial arts movements. Interestingly, Mas Oyama himself used comparisons with music when discussing karate training.

Mas Oyama on Fundamentals, Music, and Rhythm

In his book This Is Karate, Oyama discusses the relationship between basic techniques and formal exercises. In Chapter 8, he compares the fundamentals of karate to the letters of an alphabet. Just as letters are combined to form words and sentences, the basic techniques provide building blocks for more complicated movements. He emphasizes learning and understanding these fundamentals rather than simply rushing through them.[1]

I find it interesting how closely his explanation relates to the musical scales analogy. Both recognize that learning individual movements is only the beginning. We have to develop the ability to put those movements together and use them in ways that go beyond the original exercises.

Oyama takes the comparison further in Chapter 24, “Rhythm,” where he discusses the relationship between karate, music, and dance. He explains that rhythm plays an important role in karate and that the three activities share principles of timing and coordination. He also suggests that an appreciation of music can contribute to progress in karate.[2]

That connection is worth thinking about in the dojo. Rhythm in fighting isn’t simply moving at a steady tempo. It involves timing our movements in relation to an opponent. We can change rhythm, interrupt an opponent’s timing, or take advantage of the moment when they’re between movements. A technically correct attack delivered at the wrong moment may accomplish little, while the same technique at the right moment can be much more effective.

Oyama illustrates the importance of rhythm through examples from music and dance, including footwork used in kata. His discussion reminds us that learning movements is only part of what we’re doing. As we progress, we also have to learn how those movements fit together and how timing changes depending on what we’re trying to accomplish.

So the connection between music and karate goes further than simply comparing scales with kihon. Both involve developing fundamental physical skills, but both also require understanding timing, rhythm, and how individual movements become part of something more complicated.

Why Are Formal Movements Different?

My approach to teaching beginners has always been straightforward: I have to teach them to walk before I can teach them to run. Consider how a child learns to move. Initially the child learns to stand while holding on for support, then develops enough balance to stand independently, then takes tentative steps while learning to coordinate without falling. Before long they’re walking across the room, and soon they’re running around the house, leaving parents with the entirely different challenge of keeping up.

Running isn’t simply walking faster. The mechanics are different, and demands on balance, coordination, and muscular control are greater. Yet the child develops fundamental abilities that make more complicated movements possible. Karate instruction follows a similar progression. A beginner may struggle to coordinate arms, legs, and body while maintaining balance. Add combinations, changes of direction, or an opponent who is actively resisting, and things become much more difficult.

Another useful comparison is weight training. An athlete might perform heavy squats to develop leg strength, but nobody expects that athlete to assume a barbell-squat position while running, jumping, or competing. Someone who can comfortably perform repetitions with 100 pounds will generally find lifting 50 pounds much easier. They’ve developed physical capacity beyond what the lighter task requires.

I think a similar principle applies to formal stances. By deliberately practicing deeper stances and more demanding movements, we challenge students to develop greater strength, balance, and control than they need when moving in a higher, more natural fighting stance.

Consider zenkutsu dachi, the forward stance commonly practiced in traditional karate. In formal kihon, students maintain a relatively deep stance while moving forward, backward, or transitioning. For a beginner this is surprisingly demanding. They have to coordinate legs and hips, control center of gravity, distribute weight, and maintain stability throughout.

Compare that with the higher, more natural stance generally used in kumite. Fighting requires changing direction quickly, adjusting position continuously, and responding to an opponent trying to make the job more difficult. A deep formal stance isn’t the position we want while doing those things. However, someone who has learned to move smoothly while maintaining balance and control in a demanding formal stance may find moving from a higher fighting stance considerably easier. By developing abilities under more demanding conditions, we’re better prepared for faster, more natural movements.

Oyama discusses the importance of stances and balance in Chapter 5 of This Is Karate. He explains how foot placement and weight distribution affect stability, then demonstrates different stances and exercises involving movement and changes of direction.[3] These are among the things we’re working on when we ask students to practice moving in deep formal stances instead of simply adopting a comfortable fighting position from the beginning.

There’s another aspect to consider. A stance that doesn’t appear useful in knockdown competition may have application in a different fighting situation. In Bunkai-Jutsu: The Practical Application of Karate Kata, British instructor Iain Abernethy discusses how stances can be used to apply body weight and control an opponent, rather than simply being positions assumed for kata.[4]

Abernethy’s emphasis is on fighting applications rather than value as conditioning. I think both are worth understanding. Practicing a stance can develop balance, strength, and coordination while the stance itself may also have a particular close-quarters application. In my own teaching, I encourage students to recognize both the physical demands and possible uses.

We see something similar with blocking techniques. Consider chudan soto uke, the middle-level outside block. During kihon we practice the movement through a large, deliberate range, coordinating arms, hips, and body through a prescribed sequence. In kumite our hands are generally already raised. If we use a comparable movement to intercept or redirect an incoming strike, it may require only a fraction of the formal technique’s range.

The larger movement gives us opportunity to develop coordination and control, but it may also have other applications. Abernethy explains that techniques commonly described as blocks can be used to control limbs, disrupt position, or create opportunities for further techniques.[5] What appears as an exaggerated defensive movement compared with competition fighting may serve a different purpose elsewhere.

Oyama also demonstrates basic punches and blocks alongside applications against a partner in This Is Karate. His explanations address alignment, balance, body position, and how to apply force effectively. These are things we work on during formal practice, and continue working on as we learn to apply techniques against another person.

This is one reason I think it’s important for students to understand why they’re learning a movement, rather than simply memorizing its outward appearance. We’re teaching principles of movement through techniques. As students develop, they begin recognizing principles of balance, coordination, weight transfer, and body mechanics that apply across many movements.

What Does Motor-Learning Research Tell Us?

My college experience left me with an ongoing interest in examining research when trying to understand why things work in the dojo. Motor learning is particularly interesting because it deals with how we acquire, develop, and retain physical skills. Some principles are directly relevant to how we structure karate training, even though much of the research wasn’t conducted with martial artists in mind.

One important principle is specificity of practice. In simple terms, the more closely practice resembles conditions in which a skill will eventually be used, the more directly that practice prepares us for those conditions. But that doesn’t mean every exercise has to reproduce the final activity exactly. Breaking a complicated skill into manageable components and gradually introducing additional demands is a familiar approach to teaching physical skills.

Students don’t arrive with identical abilities. Some have considerable athletic experience and good coordination, while others struggle to maintain balance while stepping forward and punching. Giving students opportunities to work on movements in kihon, without having to deal with everything else involved in fighting, allows them to concentrate on what they’re learning. That doesn’t mean they can’t begin practicing with a partner or trying kumite while still developing fundamentals.

When I began training in Kyokushin, it wasn’t unusual for beginners to be introduced to sparring fairly early. We weren’t expected to become accomplished fighters before trying. I remember one Senpai I sparred with many times during my first few years. Somehow he always seemed just a little better than I was. Looking back, I’m certain he adjusted how he fought according to my ability. He made it just close enough that I thought I had a chance, although he certainly wasn’t going to let me win. When I eventually became the senior, I found myself doing much the same with my juniors.

There’s a good lesson in that experience. A senior can adjust difficulty to challenge someone with less experience, giving the junior opportunities to attack, defend, and learn without being overwhelmed. Students need opportunities to try what they’re learning, even when skills are still limited. Learning fundamentals and learning to apply them can take place together, each helping the student improve.

My teacher often reminded us that “Practice doesn’t make perfect, it makes permanent.” I’ve always thought that was a good way to explain why quality of practice matters. If a student performs a technique incorrectly hundreds of times without recognizing the problem, they may simply become better at doing it incorrectly. Repetition alone isn’t enough. Students need to understand what they’re trying to accomplish, and instructors need to recognize when corrections are necessary. The same principle applies to our musical analogy: a pianist who repeatedly practices a scale with poor timing may simply reinforce the problem they’re trying to correct.

In a 1990 study titled Specificity and Variability of Practice, Charles H. Shea and Robert M. Kohl examined how practicing a particular motor task compared with practicing variations. Their findings indicated varied practice could produce better retention than practicing only the target task.[6] Although the study didn’t involve karate, it illustrates something worth considering when structuring training: learning isn’t always best accomplished by endlessly repeating an identical movement under identical conditions.

Experienced instructors see the practical side regularly. A student may execute a technique well during kihon, then struggle with the same movement while changing direction or responding to a partner. The student is now being asked to coordinate more things at once, and learning to do so is part of developing ability to fight.

From Kihon to Kumite

My teacher frowned on fighters simply standing in front of one another trading blows. He always told us the objective was to inflict damage on your opponent without allowing them to inflict damage on you. That principle has stayed with me throughout years of training and teaching. It’s one reason I place emphasis on footwork and positioning. I want students to learn how to move off the line, create attacking opportunities, and avoid remaining directly in front of an opponent where they’re easier to hit.

I typically begin developing these skills through renraku, or combinations. Once students can execute a combination, I have them perform it and immediately change position. We work on stepping and pivoting, switch steps, sliding forward and backward, and other methods. As they become more comfortable, we progress to executing the combination, moving off the line, and immediately attacking again. The idea is to keep moving, create new angles, and force the opponent to adjust.

I tell students to treat it as an unbroken sequence: hit, step off the center line, hit again, and keep moving. Depending on movements involved, this often results in circling the opponent rather than remaining directly in front. We’re developing tai sabaki, repositioning the body in relation to an opponent to create better angles for attacking and defending.

I frequently remind students that action beats reaction. I want them to take initiative and stay a step ahead, using attacks and movement to force the other person to continually adjust. Rather than simply responding to whatever an opponent does, they should be learning to create situations requiring the opponent to respond to them.

This is where the relationship between kihon and fighting becomes easier to understand. The balance, coordination, and body control developed through fundamental exercises are now being used while executing combinations, moving, changing angles, and continuing to attack. As we introduce more partner training, students learn to adjust movements according to what another person is doing and respond when things don’t go as planned.

Oyama’s training system in This Is Karate follows a progression from fundamentals into more complicated training. His drill-system chart in Chapter 2 illustrates the relationship between stances, basic techniques, formal exercises, practice fighting, and practical applications.[7] The exercises aren’t unrelated activities. They’re different parts of learning karate, and each gives opportunities to develop abilities used elsewhere.

Abernethy describes a similar progression in his discussion of kata-based sparring. Students begin by learning an application with a cooperative partner, then gradually introduce movement and resistance. He also discusses continuation practice, in which students learn to respond when an intended technique doesn’t work instead of continuing a predetermined sequence.[8]

Fighting requires bringing together everything developed through training. Distance changes, opportunities appear and disappear, and opponents don’t always move as expected. Through practice, students learn to recognize changes and adjust. Ideally they’re doing more than responding. They’re learning to use movement and attacks to influence what the opponent does next.

Understanding the Purpose of Kihon

Returning to the beginner’s musical analogy, I think he was already approaching the question usefully. A musician practices scales to develop abilities used when playing something much more complicated than the exercises themselves. Similarly, we practice kihon to develop abilities that become part of how we perform more complicated martial arts movements.

What’s particularly interesting is that Mas Oyama was explaining much the same principle in This Is Karate, published in 1965, more than sixty years ago. His comparison with the alphabet illustrates the importance he placed on understanding how individual movements become part of more complicated skills. His separate discussion of music, dance, and rhythm also reminds us that knowing how to execute a technique is only part of learning when and how to use it.

As we develop, our understanding of fundamental exercises changes. A beginner may concentrate almost entirely on performing a prescribed movement correctly. An experienced practitioner can approach that same exercise with greater appreciation of balance, timing, alignment, coordination, and control. The movement may look familiar, but the practitioner is paying attention to things not apparent when first learning.

I think this is one of the important things for students to understand about traditional karate training. The exercises we practice aren’t always intended to be reproduced exactly as they appear in kihon. Sometimes they’re deliberately structured to place greater demands on physical abilities, while particular movements may also have applications not immediately obvious from watching kumite. As students gain experience, they begin to recognize those connections and better understand why we train the way we do.

Ultimately, kihon and kumite are complementary parts of the same learning process. We develop fundamental abilities while also learning to apply them through combinations, movement, partner training, and fighting. As we gain experience, we continue returning to fundamentals because there’s always room to improve control, coordination, and understanding.

The purpose of practicing fundamentals isn’t simply to become good at performing fundamentals. It’s to develop the abilities that allow us to move beyond them.

Osu!

End-notes

1. Masutatsu Oyama, This Is Karate (Japan Publications Trading Company, 1965), Chapter 8, “Formal Exercises,” particularly p. 137, where Oyama compares the fundamentals of karate with the letters of an alphabet.

2. Oyama, This Is Karate, Chapter 24, “Rhythm,” pp. 324–325, particularly “Points in Common with Music and the Dance,” “Rhythm in the Karate Foot Positions,” and “Music’s Importance to Karate.”

3. Oyama, This Is Karate, Chapter 5, discussion of stances, balance, walking, and turning, particularly pp. 64–66.

4. Iain Abernethy, Bunkai-Jutsu: The Practical Application of Karate Kata (NETH Publishing, electronic edition, 2012), Chapter 14, “The Purpose of Stances.”

5. Abernethy, Bunkai-Jutsu, Chapter 13, “The True Uses of ‘Blocks’.”

6. Charles H. Shea and Robert M. Kohl, “Specificity and Variability of Practice,” Research Quarterly for Exercise and Sport 61, no. 2 (1990): 169–177. https://doi.org/10.1080/02701367.1990.10608671

7. Oyama, This Is Karate, Chapter 2, “Drill System,” p. 44.

8. Abernethy, Bunkai-Jutsu, Chapter 15, “Kata-Based Sparring,” including the discussion of continuation practice.

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