The Threat of Violence: You Have Time
Types of Hostage Takers
Acts of Violence: You Have No Time
3.8: violence happens between people
CHAPTER 4: PREDATORS
4.1: threats ain’t normal folks
4.2: the types of criminal
4.3: rationalizations
4.4: what makes a violent predator?
CHAPTER 5: TRAINING
5.1: the flaw in the drill
5.2: kata as a training exercise
5.3: responses to the four basic truths
5.4: operant conditioning
5.5: the whole enchilada
CHAPTER 6: MAKING PHYSICAL DEFENSE WORK
6.1: stages of defense: movement-opportunity-intent-relationship-terrain
6.2: the “go” button
6.3: the golden rule of combat
6.4: effects and actions
6.5: the big three
CHAPTER 7: AFTER
7.1: after
7.2: acute events
7.3: for supervisors
7.4: cumulative events
7.5: dealing with the survivor/student
7.6: changes
BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
By Steven Barnes
There is a “gap” between reality and fantasy, and that “gap” is where the novelist plays. Whether the reality of day to day life in marriage as opposed to the fantasy world of “falling in love,” the reality of the workaday world as opposed to the fantasy of “making it big,” or the reality of life and death combat as opposed to the fantasies of battlefield glory.
The gaps between these things are the meat of my profession. Because so few of us actually place our lives in jeopardy, ever face the reality of combat, or self-defense, of facing an aggressive human being, or discovering our own potential for violence, we are endlessly fascinated by images of the men and women who can and have done such things. We make them into heroes, we study them in books, we are hypnotized by their images on thirty-foot high movie screens, and pay those who can convincingly portray them staggering sums of money.
And behind much of our fascination is a question: what would I be in that context? Could I cope? And what would I become if I did? What would happen if I could not?
One of those who portrayed this hyper-effective fighting machine stereotype was, of course, Bruce Lee, and after Enter the Dragon, legions of young men swamped martial arts schools all over the world, seeking to be strong, to be brave, to be capable—to, in other words, deal with their fear that they would not be able. Or to feed their hunger to learn what that mysterious creature lurking in the back of their subconscious was really all about.
I remember during the early 1980’s, when training at the Filipino Kali Academy, a school maintained by Danny Inosanto and Richard Bustillo (two former Lee students), that every time a new class opened up, we’d be flooded by the LBKs—Little Blond Kids. They came in the doors with their eyes filled with dreams of martial glory. And we knew that the instant it got real, the instant we put on the gloves and actually started whacking each other, 90% of them would flee.
And friends, sparring in the school has a very limited application to what happens on the streets. Those of us who wanted to learn how to apply what we learned in an academic context to a real life and death situation studied texts by ancient samurai, killer monks, warriors of every culture—those who had actually been and done. We struggled to grasp the difference between fantasy and reality, between theory and application. Because the gap between them could cost us our lives.
Could we do it? And what if we could not?
I met Rory Miller about fifteen years ago, and was immediately impressed by an odd fluidity of movement that told me that he had endured long and intense practice in some effective physical discipline. I suspected martial applications. Over time, I learned about his background, and that his profession as a Corrections Officer placed him in the peculiar position of, as he said at the time, having “A fight a day.”
Every day? Against some of the most dangerous and desperate members of our society? This was not a theoretician. But more than his obvious skill, what impressed me was the quality of his relationship with his lady, Kami. Their clear and obvious love told me that he had been able to find a way to engage in violence at a level most martial artists, most people, cannot even dream—without losing his soul.
Because he is both classically trained and the survivor of literally countless all-out confrontations, Rory has the absolute right and responsibility to share his impressions of the difference between theory and application. What works and what will get you killed. What attitudes and illusions are harbored by those of us who don’t have to face the animals who ENJOY hurting, killing, raping, maiming. What is that space? Where do you have to go inside yourself to survive?
I believe that his training, environment, and inclination created a “Perfect Storm” of martial awareness, in which he has attained a kind of clarity about these things that is a hallmark of those on the road to enlightenment. Very few human beings would be willing to pay the price he has paid, or be capable of paying it even if they were willing.
That he is willing to report back what he has learned is an act of love and social responsibility. I have the very highest respect for Rory and what he has to say about the “gap” between martial arts as taught and conceptualized, and survival in the crucible of actual combat. In other words, how he stepped through the fire without being utterly destroyed by the flame.
Meditations on Violence—A Comparison of Martial Arts Training & Real World Violence is not a joke, or a fantasy, or a screed written to salve the ego of some wannabe. I’ve met the men who work with Rory, and they are tough, hard, guys—and they adore him. They know that what he knows, and who he is, has kept them alive to return to their lives and families.
You hold in your hands a document long in incubation, the musings of a modern warrior on a topic central to mankind’s survival since the first dawn.
Can I? And if I can, how? And who will I be? What MUST I be, to protect my life, my values, my family?
There are few questions more important than these.
Here, in these pages, are the results of one man’s quest for answers.
It’s the real thing.
Steven Barnes
Southern California
August 1, 2007
Steven Barnes is a N.Y. Times bestselling novelist and former Kung-Fu columnist for Black Belt magazine.
This is a book about many things and I was helped by many people from many different worlds. Cops and criminals, friends, trainers, authors, and students have all helped with this work—some directly