Modern karate has changed, so what most people call it today isn’t what it used to be.

Early Okinawan karate, originally called ‘To-de’, meaning ‘Chinese hand’, was a civilian self-defence system. It wasn’t battlefield combat or duelling; it was self-defence.

Okinawa, a trading hub, saw Chinese martial arts merge with indigenous fighting methods to create something unique. This system was designed for civilians who might face sudden violence from bandits, pirates, armed attackers, and more. Traditional karate included joint locks called ‘tuite’, methods for controlling and breaking limbs in close quarters, and aggressive seizing techniques to trap an opponent’s arms before they could draw a weapon; strikes targeting vulnerable points; and throws. These throws were designed to slam an attacker onto hard ground and end the fight immediately, not for sparring points. It was about survival, close, brutal, and over in seconds.

The training reflected this reality too. Masters like Enkoitosu and Krio Higana didn’t teach large classes; they worked with small groups of dedicated students, often training in secret. Kata, the solo forms everyone associates with karate, were originally encyclopaedias of combat techniques. Each move had a purpose, a target, and a follow-up.
In Okinawa, the ruling Satsuma clan had forbidden blades to prevent rebellion, so karate became the ‘secret’ weapon. However, this version almost disappeared.

In the early 1900s, Okinawan karate masters like Gichin Funakoshi introduced karate to mainland Japan under the name of Shotokan. Japan wanted physical education, not self-defence, so they made karate safer. Dangerous techniques like joint locks, vital point strikes, close-range work, and bone-breaking throws were removed. What remained were the ‘shapes of techniques’, but the applications were diluted or lost. The deadly bunkai was forgotten or simplified. Sparring became formalised, with a focus on distance fighting, light contact, and stopping at command. This process wasn’t a mistake; it was intentional. The goal was to produce disciplined students who could contribute to society, not fighters.

Karate spread across Japan and became part of the national identity. By the 1950s and 1960s, when American servicemen and Japanese masters brought karate to the West, this safer, sportified version is what the world received. The problem is that most karate students don’t realise there has ever been a difference.

Modern sport karate produces excellent athletes – fast, disciplined, and technically precise. However, sport and violence are different. In competition, you know when the fight starts, what techniques are legal, and your opponent won’t tackle, headbutt, pull a weapon, or bring friends. You train for this specific context, and the athletes who do are incredible. However, these skills are optimised for a specific rule set, one that has nothing to do with violence.

So why do combat sports like judo and MMA seem to work better in chaos? This is because they have managed to maintain a level of realism that karate attempted to eliminate. In judo, you don’t pretend to throw someone; you throw them against resistance repeatedly. You learn what works when your opponent actively tries to stop you. The throws that work in competition are the same as the throws that can work in real confrontations.

My only criticism of judo for self-protection is the danger of getting close enough to perform a throw – disabling resistance with a few strikes first would then make it favourable. Despite this, numerous videos demonstrate the successful use of throws for self-protection, particularly when the aggressor is positioned up close ‘in your face’.

Judo and MMA focus on whether techniques work against a resisting opponent.

Traditional karate had this. Motobu Choki, one of Okinawa’s karate practitioners, tested his skills in real fights, not tournaments. He deliberately provoked fights to see if his techniques worked, and they did. The difference isn’t the style; it’s the training method, which emphasises practical applications and real-world scenarios over traditional tournament settings.

The question isn’t whether karate works; it’s which version aligns with your training objectives.

Are you training for competition, tradition, or survival?

I have had comments that Kyushindo Karate is watered down, but mostly from practitioners of modern-day tension-based styles. Ultimately, it all depends on the individual. Like traditional karate, joint locks and throws are part of Kyushindo Karate, but they were introduced from other arts, like Kyushindo judo, which had none of these in the Shotokan base. However, it’s one of my missions to be selective and make these as effective as possible.