Few terms in Chinese martial arts are as anachronistic and contentious as "grandmaster." While many Wing Chun lineages have wisely chosen to forgo this title, the issue I refer to as the "grandmaster problem" remains a persistent challenge across all Chinese martial arts. Regardless of the system, traditionalists often overlook a fundamental concern regarding the utility of a successor. Beyond the questionable utility of the title itself, there is also the glaring narcissism of those who bestow it upon themselves.
I must clarify my position on this matter. I believe that certain traditions within Chinese martial arts are not only valuable but also essential for the transmission of these arts. My dedication to learning Cantonese and understanding Chinese culture stems from this belief. I mention this because some argue that the entire Wing Chun tradition should be replaced with alternatives like MMA, Tai Chi, boxing, or military combatives. While I advocate for progress and development, I also resonate with my good friend Dr. Mark Cheng's sentiment: "Those who seek to dispense with tradition should first seek to understand it." Therefore, my perspective on the relevance of the term "grandmaster" is not merely based on Western pragmatism; I strive to view it through the lens of Wing Chun, particularly in Hong Kong.
In Chinese, there are two general terms for "grandmaster." The first, Jung Si (宗師), is the most common and generic. It denotes a martial artist of great achievement and also refers to a "great scholar respected for learning and integrity." The second term, Jeung Moon Yan (掌門人), translates roughly to "keeper of the gate." In this context, the Jeung Moon Yan serves as the vessel through which students gain access to the art. This title was fitting in the past when martial systems were taught to only a few students, and grandmasters typically selected a sole successor. The rise of commercial martial arts schools, beginning perhaps with the Jing Wu Academy in Shanghai in the 1920s, has changed this landscape. Although Sifus had previously accepted money for teaching, it was not their sole means of livelihood; most taught to sustain their own practice and fulfill a duty to pass on the system, as dictated by Confucian values. In those times, having a "keeper of the gate" made sense, as they were responsible for training the next generation and designating the next "keeper."
However, the commercialization of martial arts in the last century has diminished the need for a Jeung Moon Yan. Grandmaster Yip Man’s 22-year teaching career significantly impacted the tradition and the role of the Jeung Moon Yan. This issue is not unique to Wing Chun; it is also evident in the history of Hung Gar. The late Lam Jo became the de facto successor to the great Lam Sai Wing and was an exceptionally prolific instructor from the 1920s until his death in 2012, producing many highly qualified Hung Gar instructors.
Qualifying a single individual as a successor when many have been taught raises questions about the quality of instruction. If Grandmaster Ip Man had appointed one of his students as his sole successor, what would that imply for the other students who completed their training? Are they suddenly unqualified because a successor has been named? Must they yield to the authority of this new successor long after their Sifu has passed? How can one truly appoint a successor? The best fighter may not necessarily be the best teacher, nor may they know how to effectively promote or unify the system. Should the successor be the one with the most technical or conceptual understanding of the art? Should they be the best teacher or the best promoter? Expecting a successor to excel in all these areas is unrealistic. Bruce Lee, arguably one of the best in Kung Fu, struggled to keep his various schools operational.
As a student of history, I have examined the aftermath of notable grandmasters appointing successors, and the results are often disappointing. For instance, in Eagle Claw, a grandmaster appointed his elder daughter as the successor, even though many believe his younger daughter was more skilled. This official designation did not foster peace and harmony within the Eagle Claw community. In cases where a successor was not appointed at the time of a grandmaster’s death, chaos often ensued. This was the case with Wing Chun; Grandmaster Ip Man informed Tang Sang shortly before his passing that he would not appoint a successor. He believed that the student with the most students and success would naturally assume the role of successor. No disrespect intended to our late master, but that plan did not unfold as he envisioned. In the aftermath, camps became more divided than ever. While they may present a united front in public, behind closed doors, they remain increasingly entrenched in their own beliefs and hype.
Commenti