Does Hick’s Law Apply to the Moon?
When I'm in a bakery, I often stand transfixed by the many rows of donuts. They all look so delicious, I can imagine myself eating most of them. After a few moments, I narrow down my selection by deciding which one or two elements I really need to have (sprinkles, glazing, chocolate…). After that, I compare prices and sizes of the available choices. Ultimately, I make my choice and try to live happily with it.
Other times I remind myself that I'm trying to eat as little sugar as possible, and walk out without buying anything at all.
Most of us are fortunate to have these moments of abundance in our lives. But the real crux of this tale is the decision time it takes to make a selection. If there were only 3 or 4 donuts to choose from, certainly my process would be much simpler and quicker, even if it resulted in me not wanting anything.
The burden of selection and it's effects on the brain is a long studied phenomenon…longer than many people realize.
In the 1950s, a gentleman named William Edmund Hick performed an intriguing experiment. He utilized computers and humans to test how the amount of choices affected decision time. In fact, he boiled it down to a logorithm:TR+a+b{Log2 (N)} (read the wikipedia entry for more on that). Through his studies Hick concluded that IQ and choice quantity were heavy factors in determining the ability of a person to react quickly to external stimuli. In fact, as choices continued to rise, reaction time would increase logarithmically.
Hick Invades the Martial Arts
He couldn't have predicted it, but Hick has made a real splash in the martial arts world. Britain in the 1940s and 1950s didn't have the same kind of martial diversity as we see all over the world today. In fact, traditional arts like karate, taekwondo, jujitsu, etc were just starting to make appearances outside of their native homelands. Had they been as popular during his time, he might have seen the obvious connection.
One of the biggest (legitimate) complaints surrounding the traditional martial arts is the focus on technique quantity and visual appeal over quality. While there were many brilliant westerners who helped spread martial arts in meaningful ways, there were far more who treated kata like currency and were more interested in developing large schools and successful tournaments than truly learning how to use the skillsets handed to them.
The result of the early boom was a lot of half-learned concepts taught in unintegrated fashion. Instead of learning "better", many instructors just learned "more". Before too long styles were cropping up that boasted thousands of moves to defend against any attack.
Some practitioners (both traditional and modern in background) have spoken out against this kind of training, frequently citing Hick's Law to support their argument. They state that the hastily collected techniques and myriad of kata relied upon by many traditionalists will increase their needed reaction time beyond any semblance of usability.
It's a compelling argument. Unfortunately, it's not quite complete…or original.
Hick's Law – Not Complete
Since Hick's time there have been many studies in the realm of neurobehavioral science, many of which dispute some of the direct assumptions made by Hick.
"New tests on skills like driving vehicles, flying, sports and psychology, have created so many layers of fresh information. Larish and Stelmach in 1982 established that one could select from 20 complex options in 340 milliseconds, providing the complex choices have been previously trained. One other study even had a reaction time of .03 milliseconds between two trained choices! .03! Merkel's Law, for example, says that trouble begins when a person has to select between 8 choices, but can still select a choice from the eight well under 500 milliseconds. Brace yourself! Mowbray and Rhoades Law of 1959, or the Welford Law of 1986, found no difference in reaction time at all, when selecting from numerous, well-trained choices. " – W. Hock Hochheim
Mr. Hochheim's work goes on to explain further studies in deeper context. I recommend you read his study if you have the time.
It turns out, there are a bunch of other important variables that can affect a person's reaction abilities other than just pure stimulus-to-reaction-choice quantity. One of the most important aspects is how well trained each choice is inside the person's neural pathways.
Gary Klein (also sourced by Hochheim) explains that the brain actually possesses a dual track. When stimulus enters the brain through the eye, it is transported to two sections. The first (System II Cognition) can be likened to my donut quandary as stated at the beginning of this post. In System II, external stimulus is transferred to the frontal lobes of the brain, where the consciousness analyzes, assesses, and comes to a conclusion about the best course of action. This is a rather slow and deliberate process.
The second location is located in a more primitive part of the brain – the amygdala. Here in System I Cognition the stimulus flashes against pre-existing sensations similar in sight, sound, smell, and essence. The amygdala bounces a response back based on pre-conscious patterns that are not under deliberate control.
And, according to researchers Martin D. Topper, Ph.D., and Jack M. Feldman, Ph.D…
"Even though these two tracks are complimentary, we know that some people seem to be much more skilled than others at integrating System 1 and System 2. These especially competent individuals seem to resolve critical situations and also adapt to rapid changes in those situations. They invent routines they have never before performed and act in a fluid, seamless manner without employing full focal awareness." – Unconscious Competence
When taking more modern research into account, it can be concluded that the brain isn't slave to a single reactionary track that enlongates reaction time exponentially as stimulus increases. Instead, the brain can utilize different responses depending on how well trained it is. If the amygdala can sense recongizable stimulus as ingrained during training, it is then more likely to respond in kind. It can also utilize conscious decision making while responding in order to create new and more appropriate solutions.
Hick Back In!
While's Hick's ideas have been built upon since his original studies, he still has more to offer. One of his most useful ideas was that of Stimulus–Response Compatibility. In essence, he was suggesting that the closer the stimulus and response are in character and kind, the shorter the needed reaction time.
For example, it's easier for a person to hit a red button (amongst other colors) when a red light illuminates. Similarly, a person can more easily drive a car if turning the wheel left is connected with moving the tires left.
This idea works with the natural connections already established in our brain. The body and mind have built-in connections that allow us to function normally in every day life. They also allow us to protect ourselves instinctually. If something flies toward our eyes, our hands automatically raise up and turn palms outward. If something swings passed our groin area, the hips will instinctively lurch backward.
From a martial arts perspective, it could be considered wise to work WITH those bodily reactions and enhance their effectiveness. Furthermore, instincts can be used as launch points, connecting other methods of self defense from them, utilizing and sculpting the amygdala while providing it with trained pathways that connect it to a few structured solutions in the frontal lobes.
The Hick Argument – Not Original
The sophistication behind neuroscience is increasing every day. Our technical understanding of the brain's functions has never been better, and we stand to improve radically in the next few decades.
Would it surprise you then if I said the Japanese were making the same Hick-like arguments a couple hundred years ago?
Kenjutsu is an art with limited real world application. Anyone caught carrying a katana in day-to-day life will be quickly escorted to jail. Because of that, it's value in the martial pantheon is often overlooked by individuals focused on practicality. But consider this brief story…
In the early 1600s, a powerful man named Muso Gonnosuke roamed the Japanese countryside while engaging in musha shugyo, the practice of challenging other warriors to test one's own skill. One fateful evening Gonnosuke happened upon Miyamoto Musashi. His fame preceding him, Musashi found himself challenged by the brash Gonnosuke. Attacked suddenly, Musashi was able to easily evade and defeat Gonnosuke, leaving him alive after the duel (a rare occurrence).
Gonnosuke, thoroughly defeated, retreated to a Shinto shrine near Mount Homan where he meditated and trained for 37 days. It's said that he received enlightenment there and invented the Jo in order to finally defeat his rival Musashi. Armed with a weapon of increased length and an enlightened mindset, Gonnosuke eventually found Musashi once again and either fought him to a draw or defeated him (as the story goes).
The duel itself is not critical to our exploration of Hick's law in the martial arts. Instead, we need to analyze one of Gonnosuke's enlightened theories:
maruki o motte, suigetsu o shire – with the round stick, know the strategy of the moon on the water.
The round stick of course refers to the Jo. However, the idea of "the moon on the water" is a bit more slippery (pardon the pun).
When you observe the reflection of the moon on a still pond, you can see it's true nature. However, disturb the water and the image becomes distorted. Try to grab the moon, and you'll reach through it to the water.
The movement of the moon, subtle as it may be, is always reflected on the water. They are attached, not by any physically measurable property, but inescapably nevertheless.
The Moon and the Mind
This Japanese concept is very esoteric. In fact, many Japanese concepts are esoteric.
Japanese culture has long been steeped in oral transmission, frequently mixing fact with fanciful embelishment. In addition, their desire to hide real knowledge from one another has been deeply ingrained since the time of The Warring States Period.
In the old days, a good kenjutsu instructor transmitted wisdom to his students using artful story telling as well as thought provoking analogies and metaphors.
Despite all that, what the samurai were trying to impart is clear – The mind, when like still water, can reflect the truth of the moon. If the moon moves, it does not escape the water's notice and yet the water remains unperturbed. Should something disrupt the water or should it's surface become muddled, the image of the moon becomes hazy and unfocused.
This concept is often related to the idea of mushin – the uncluttered mind; free to act or respond.
To draw things out a touch, we can correlate the idea of disrupted water with that of a mind that is burdened by decisions. Think of dozens of techniques as being like dozens of reeds tossed on the water's surface. The clear path to the moon (as in, the opponent) is now slowed down as you attempt to push through the reeds and once again reveal the reflection. Continue the metaphor by analyzing the perpetual connection between any change-of-state between the moon and water. If a practitioner is connected to the opponent with such unencumbered clarity, they can move and act even before the opponent attempts anything of their own since the opponent's intent is at-once revealed.
When looking at the practice of kenjutsu, such a principle is apparent in every movement. The core of sword work is based off of 8 cuts. Everything that happens can be created from and returned to these cuts. Waza as performed by kenjutsuka are stark, simple, and effective.
Kenjutsuka realize that their lives can be ended with the smallest mistake, and a mind that is burdened by excessive choice and stimulus-overload would be quickly defeated by a better prepared warrior.
One Case Among Many
Gonnosuke's idea of "maruki o motte, suigetsu o shire" is hardly unique. All of the major sword styles have some way of building a foundation that can be relied upon in times of high stress with minimal choice conflict. They may not have known what an amygdala was, or that the frontal lobes are responsible for conscious thought, but they saw what worked on the battlefield. A few brilliant minds like Yagyu Munenori were able to communicate their ideas through the language of the time. Had they been able to grasp the science behind studies like that of Hick and Topper/Feldman, they would likely have concurred with the logic.
So, what of traditionalists that are fighting their own natural instincts in an effort to collect more techniques? Are they lost forever?
That depends. Each of the major classical arts (kenjutsu, karate, taekwondo) have roots based in true violence. The progenitors of those styles knew about things like unconscious competenence. Falling short of their high level can come from a wide variety of causes, including desire to make profit, grow business, form new systems before the old ones were understood, incomplete teaching, cultural miscommunication, lineages moving away from effectiveness (you get the idea – a WIDE variety of reasons).
Personally, this is why I find modern investigations so valuable. The scientific, research-based understanding of conflict can prepare us in ways that we might have missed while trying to navigate old esoterica.
And what of modernists who consistently blast traditional artists for being backward and blind to real conflict? Should they keep raging on?
That also depends. There will always be martial artists out there who spout nonsense and rely on parlor tricks to seem impressive. But perhaps modernists can also take a moment to realize the brilliance of some of the old masters, and what they were trying to impart through generations of artful study.
Interview: Jody Paul, Seidokan / Motobu Udundi
I'm very happy to present this interview with Jody Paul Hanshi. Counted among some of the earliest westerners to experience karate on the island of Okinawa, Paul Sensei has a rare combination of influences. He is a senior practitioner of Seidokan and Motobu Udundi, as well as having extensive experience in Okinawa Kenpo Karate/Kobudo and Shorinji Kempo.
Paul Sensei has distinguished himself through years of military service and deligent training. Some of his accomplishments include being a part of the inaugural Seal Team Two, as well as being one of the first western students accepted by Uehara Seikichi into the previously closed Motobu Udundi system.
Paul Sensei has continued to pass on the lessons taught to him by his instructors, and brings a special energy to each of his classes.
I recently had a chance to sit down with him and ask a few questions about his training and theories surrounding the martial arts.
Please enjoy!
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Q&A
MA: Paul Sensei, thanks for agreeing to share some of your story with us. To start off with – what inspired you to get involved with the martial arts in the first place?
JP: I was listening to a couple of guys talking about it. Actually it was judo. Later I watched them throwing each other around and I thought that was kinda neat. I got into karate because of watching the judo guys.
MA: How old were you when you made the leap into karate?
JP: I was about 19 or 20 at that time.
MA: When did you enlist in the military?
JP: It was about 1960. Around 1962 we had the cuban missile crisis. I was involved there, and it was one thing or another for the next several years. Soon after I retired it got a little better, haha.
MA: As I recall you were involved with the Navy throughout your career, including the Seals. What can you tell me about the early days of the Navy Seals?
JP: back in 1960, around March or April, Lt. Commander Roy Boehm was the Officer in Charge of Team Two. That was right in time for the cuban crisis. Team Two was comprised of the new navy seals and the UDT teams.
MA: Were you handpicked to be part of that team?
JP: Yes, most of the guys selected were divers and UDTs.
MA: When you were stationed in Japan, because of your experience in karate, did you immediately try to get involved with martial arts?
JP: Yes I did.
MA: Who did you end up connecting with?
JP: I trained with Watanabe Sensei, who was one of master Doshin So's students. Then from there, I continued with So Sensei in Shorinji Kempo.
MA: Was the training regimented?
JP: In Japan it's a lot more regimented than Okinawa. everything is very stand in line, and so forth.
MA: How did they take to you as a westerner? Was there any friction?
JP: A little bit of…skepticism. of course. but overall fair treatment. I thnink in some instances I got more preferential treatment because they wanted to make sure I got it right, haha.
MA: What ultimately led you to transfer to Okinawa?
JP: Okinawa was the departing point to Vietnam in the early days. We staged a lot of people out of Okinawa. I didn't have a choice in that matter. My teacher (Doshin So) had trained years and years before with some people on Okinawa, and I had a letter of recommendation from him to show to Okinawan sensei.
MA: Did you spend any time in Vietnam itself?
JP: Yes, I spent a bit more than three tours there. I got to come back to Okinawa between and after.
MA: When you had your letter of recommmendation, which Sensei did you choose to go to?
JP: I went to Toma Shian Sensei and Uehara Seikichi Sensei.
MA: Was there something in particular that stood out about Toma Sensei?
JP: Ohh yes, he was very strong. His techniques were similar to what I learned in Japan and I felt comfortable doing his style. In kumite, weapons, and everything he does you could sense the power.
MA: Could you describe a bit about the Okinawan training culture?
JP: In the dojo it wasn't quite as regimented as it was in Japan. It was loose, people were warming up and training on different areas of the floor. There wasn't as much 'yes sir no sir'. There was respect of course. Another thing I noticed was the kids that would run through the dojo. You might be working out and doing kata and a little one would run under your feet. It was more of a family environment. It was like one big family. Everyone would take care of each other.
MA: Did you find that there was a lot of opportunities for cross training, or perhaps teachers visiting each other?
JP: Yes, a lot of times. For Toma Sensei, he had one kata for each weapon. if you wanted anything more advanced, he would send us over to Odo Seikichi Sensei. he would say "you need to do more weapons, you go see Odo." Odo Sensei was happy with that too. They were both of the same mindset.
MA: Speaking of Odo Sensei, could you describe your time with him? You were one of the earliest westerners to train with him.
JP: He was an integral part of my kobudo and karate training. I did a lot of the tuide for his forms and his weapons forms. It was quite similar to what Toma Sensei did. Back then a lot of it was similar to each other, there were only different nuances depending on how the person was built and how they liked to act. There were a lot of common threads. Odo sensei could show you 20 minutes of connections to a 2 minute question. And that was great because I was always asking why, how, how comes…, he was always happy to share. Odo also had a very good way of showing you new forms, he explained it to you very well.
MA: Asking questions seems to be a western approach to learning. Did they ever seem to mind it?
JP: It depended a lot on what you asked. Sometimes they minded, but other times they would jump right in to explain. Toma sensei's English wasn't too good so he usually would grab you, throw you to the mat and say "you do this way". You could feel where it was hurting, so you got the picture.
MA: Did that generation ever have big training gatherings?
JP: It was more of a "sharing students" type of perspective. Students would go to certain instructors depending on their interest and the instructor's area of expertise. but sometimes we would have a big function on the beach or something like that. It was an outing where we all brought our gis and worked out.
MA: Could you talk a bit about what day-to-day training was like? Was there a certain amount of time you trained, and was it the same time every day?
JP: The training wasn't a strict regiment of a certain number of kicks, punches etc. We would go to the dojo or beach and do some basics. We would train some punches and kicks and throws in the ocean with water up to our neck. Then get out on the beach and do some running (Uehara Sensei was always good for this kind of training). It was very very hot there, so you couldn't train for as long. We would work out for an hour and then have a beer break. It was tough for me to go back to training after one of those.
In the dojo at night, you could bring a gallon milk jug of water and a six pack of beer. You would drink the water during the class and then the beer after. We would hear a lot of interesting stories and ideas then.
MA: Uehara sensei is an interesting story because he comes from the Motobu Udundi line, which has a unique history and flavor to it. could you talk about how you met him and came to train with him?
JP: Uehara sensei is one of the people I was introduced to by So Sensei. when I got to Okinawa and started training with Toma Sensei I saw that Toma was friends with Uehara (With the rengokai coming together, Toma Sensei got a chance to learn more of the toide from Uehara Sensei). Everything fell into place then, I went to visit with Toma and began training after that. Uehara Sensei was a very interesting person. He was very close with his students, which I enjoyed a lot because he took a lot of time with his students individually.
MA: Toma sensei had a lot of power and impact with his method, while Uehara Sensei's style features a lot of flow and dynamics. Was it difficult trying to learn Uehara Sensei's methods at first?
JP: Ohh yes, every time I would punch and kick Uehara would say "ohh…you do like shorinji ryu" (back from my Japan days). He spotted me right away. It took several years for me to get used to the ideas of hard and soft. The older I got the softer I got I guess, haha.
MA: What was Uehara Sensei like as an instructor? Did he demonstrate a lot and was there a lot of conversation?
JP: Doing the toide techniques, he would demonstrate a lot. Then everyone would break up and try to do it. Uehara Sensei would then come around to each person and correct things and fix us. He didn't teach everyone the same way. I asked him this question one time – "why does so-and-so do it this way, a little bit different than me", and the answer was that my body was different than the body he had. If you were powerful like Toma Sensei, he would have you punching real strong, but the long tall skinny guys couldn't do it the same way so he adjusted what would work for them.
MA: Did Uehara Sensei ever talk about why he decided to open up his style to non-family students? This was rather unprecedented in the Udundi line.
JP: To me that was a hands-off topic. They never really discussed that with me. That was mostly a matter for the family itself.
MA: When you came back to the US, were you given instructions to begin a school or organization?
JP: Toma Sensei had requested that I start a school and association. I came back in 1970, but in 1984 we brought Toma Sensei to Pennsylvania. at that time we started our first association. We had a big seminar and formed the first USA Seidokan association where Toma Sensei appointed the different officers.
MA: Did you spend a lot of time at tournaments in the earlier days?
JP: Not that much. I went to a few of the original tournaments. To me it didn't show what the arts were all about anyway. Also I wasn't used to pulling punches and kicks which was a problem. Master Odo and Master Toma tended to fight with bogu gear and hard contact. so if you got in the "ring" you hit the other person. Here if you did that they would throw you out. That's what happened to me at least. I never denied my students the experience though. If they wanted to give it a try I would support them and go with them.
MA: With your experience across Okinawa Kenpo, Seidokan, and Motobu Udundi, how important do you feel natural movement is to success at higher levels?
JP: Kihon, basics, and everything is set in iron because you have to learn the core of the movements. Without that you can't get into doing natural stancework and techniques later on. So it's important, but not without the earlier stuff.
MA: Do you have any tips for individuals who have good kihon but are trying to get to that next level?
JP: Sure – relax and train. When Toma Sensei would see something that's not quite right he would just say "…more practice".
MA: Modern karate tends to be a mix of business and training, the balance of which can be difficult. What do you see as necessary for keeping the Okinawan spirit of karate alive?
JP: Toma Sensei always wanted us to open schools, and if you do that you have to have some business with it too. Here in the states that's just the way it is. Uehara Sensei didn't believe as much in having a formal school where you charge money for classes and so forth, so he never did that. I think if we stay true to the art and the way that we learned, the original way that we learned from our teachers and carry on what they were trying to give us, martial arts can still go a long way.
MA: Thanks a lot for your time and insight Paul Sensei!
Reader Article #6: Yoi
GUEST AUTHOR: Marie Lazeration Richter began her martial journey nearly seven years ago learning traditional Karate-Do at Shotokan East in York, PA; currently, she studies and serves as a junior instructor in Tai Chi Chuan with Sifu Steve Kleppe at Shao Lin Boxing Methods in Waukesha, WI. As a freelance writer, Marie assisted Master Kwon Wing Lam with the editing of his latest book, “Authentic Five Animals Style Hasayfu Hung Kuen.” She may be reached via email at mlrichter@ mac.com.
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Taikyoku shodan. Yoi.
I heard the words. While I was hoping that it was merely a kind suggestion from Sensei, I knew better…it was a command. Karate mirrors life – commands are serious, specific, absolute. My only option was to obey. And funny how it wasn’t the first words that made every muscle seize up, but rather that one, tiny little “yoi.” Be ready.
In this moment, I was to prepare myself to perform taikyoku shodan, one of the first kata, or prescribed series of basic moves, taught to students of Shotokan karate. Ask any higher belt: this was the easy stuff. But somehow my arms, legs, hands and feet became wholly independent appendages – often jockeying for position and colliding with one another while my brain screamed, “Left! Left! No, your other left!” Adding insult to injury is the fact that I am a reasonably intelligent adult who despises failure on any level. Ha! Yoi indeed.
How did I manage to find myself here, blatantly parading my inadequacies in front of men, women and children? Ah, love. It’s true…love will make you do crazy things, especially when you are a mother. My youngest attended classes for awhile and, in the process, piqued the interest of my oldest. Quite specifically, a near-teen boy who still thinks his mom is an ok companion. “Let’s do this together,” he said. Saying no was never an option.
So there we were, my beloved son and I, learning how to block, punch, kick and follow orders in a foreign language. You know how people say that kids are like sponges? Well, let’s just say that while my eldest resembled something akin to a bright, vibrant household cleaning tool fresh from its package, I could have easily been mistaken for some poor, forgotten sea creature whose crevices long refused to absorb anything of value.
Yes, old and craggy I felt, and none too pleased with the realization, either. But something incredible was happening simultaneously: I continued to try. As feeble and awkward as I felt at times, I never gave up. Through the haze of exasperation and frustration, I recalled one of life’s most important lessons: A failed attempt does not equal failure. Who spoke such sage wisdom? Was it Vince Lombardi, FDR, or perhaps inspiration from Mother Teresa? No, wait…I said that. Certainly to my two kids, and quite possibly to my husband, when whatever was looming seemed just too hard to master. I told them countless times that the path of learning – heck, the road of life – is paved with mistakes. There comes a time when you have to stop focusing on all the wrongs and embrace that one, important thing that’s right: your willingness to stick with it.
Today, it’s different…it may have been the love of my kids that landed me in this alien universe of precision and discipline, but it is for the love of myself that I remain. Although I still hear my brain yelling out directions my body can’t quite follow just yet (or, more likely, the voice belongs to a blackbelt doomed to suffer from apoplexy as a reward for his attempts to correct my shortcomings), I try and focus more on what another part of me has to say in the matter. Regardless, I listen. With unwavering certainty, I know the command will come again. But this time, I am ready.
