Besides offering a handy reference volume, this survey allowed Kennedy and Guo to advance what was, up to that point, one of the clearest, most reasonable, accounts of the evolution of the Chinese martial arts to date. Certainly the story focused around the production of texts (and thus it tended to skew heavily towards the modernist inflected reading of these practices favored by the Jingwu and Guoshu associations), yet from there the authors could chase down a surprising number of topics that provided readers with a flavor of the actual lives of China’s martial artists.
The volume featured good biographical material. Kennedy’s writings on Tang Hao, an important early scholar of Chinese martial arts history, remain one of the most complete discussions of his life available in the English language. True to form, this extensive discussion was not the result of original archival research on primary source data. Kennedy and Guo instead brought Western readers translations of preexisting Chinese sources on Tang’s life.
Occasionally other academic trends entered this mix. Andrew Morris’s 2004 volume Marrow of the Nation: A History of Sport and Physical Culture in Republican China (California UP) had a major impact on Kennedy and Guo and is echoed at many points in their writing. Given the quality of Morris’ archival research into the evolution of the Chinese martial arts in the 1920s and 1930s, as well as his ability to contextualize this information within the larger trends effecting Chinese physical culture, that is not surprising. I frequently refer to Morris in my own work. Yet his book is largely inaccessible to those who do not frequent University libraries, and in any case, his writing is academic in nature. Morris also came to benefit from Kennedy and Guo’s ability to mediate between spheres: the Chinese and the Western, the past and the present, the rigorously historical and the often fantastic.
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Kennedy also seemed to stand at another crossroads, the one that separated a largely amateur approach to writing and recording information about the martial arts from the increasing professionalization (for better or worse) of fields like Martial Arts Studies and Chinese Martial Studies. His writings helped to create a demand for more academic methods and attitudes within the discussion of the martial arts. Kennedy’s columns remind one of the pioneering efforts of William C. C. Hu in the early issues of Black Belt Magazine. Like Kennedy and Guo, Hu went to great lengths to attempt to demystify the Chinese martial arts for sincere American students by drawing on established bodies of historical and anthropological knowledge. Kennedy and Guo’s articles are more rigorous, and have generally aged better. Of course, our current understanding of Chinese history has progressed far beyond what Hu had access to in the 1960s.
Likewise, one is very much reminded of the work of Stanley Henning when reading some of Kennedy and Guo’s pieces. While Henning is more concerned with academic questions and engagements, they both share a common concern with proper translation and a desire to bring a similar vision of the history of Chinese martial arts to Western students. It is also interesting to note that both sets of authors seem to be largely sympathetic to the revisionist and often utilitarian readings of the Chinese martial arts advanced by groups like the Guoshu Institute and Jingwu Association in the 1920s-1930s. I have sometimes wondered if that is an artifact of a textual and historical approach to studying these practices when in truth a very small number of elite martial artists (with a clear ideological agenda) were responsible for producing almost all of the written sources that currently exist.
I have not always agreed with all of Kennedy and Guo’s conclusions. My own archival and historical research has led me to conclude that by the 19th century there were at least a handful of (woodblock) printed martial arts manuals being sold commercially in Southern China which do not fit into their otherwise helpful typology of Chinese fight books. Likewise, I disagree with their assertion that Jingwu (while certainly early) was the very first public commercial martial arts school in all of China. But this is a good sign and it speaks to the fundamental strength and intellectual integrity of their work. When one writes about primary source documents and engages with the historical record, there is always the possibility that new documents may be discovered, or a better way of thinking about existing sources may be developed. That is a feature of good academic arguments, not a weakness to be overcome.
Clearly the best way to remember Kennedy’s work, and to come to terms with the immense impact that he had on a generation of Chinese martial arts students and readers, is to take some time to review a few of his best essays. Again, coming up with a concise list is a challenge given the many topics that he addressed, but here are three of my favorites that showcase the range of Brian’s intellectual curiosity.
The first of these is actually a guest post that Kennedy and Guo were kind enough to submit to Kung Fu Tea after having previously published a version of the same essay in Classical Fighting Arts. Given my interest in Chinese swords and Republic era martial arts I think that any reading list would need to start off with their now classic essay, “Bridges and Big Knives: The Use of the “Big Knife” saber in the Chinese Republican Army.” It is well worth checking out.
The fact that this essay is housed on the blog makes it easy for readers to find. My next two picks will require some digging, but your effort will be rewarded. In the Winter 2010 issue of Chinese Martial Studies, Kennedy and Guo published an essay titled “Taiwanese Martial Motifs” examining the colorful temple processions which they often observed. While not directly related to the practice of the martial arts, this article presents a valuable study of the ways in which martial images and ideas permeate local Chinese society. It also offers some hints as to the sorts of roles that martial artists occasionally play in the more marginal sectors of Southern Chinese life.
Finally, the one absolutely mandatory article for any reader of this blog would have to be “Historical Methods in Chinese Martial Arts Research.” This surprisingly lengthy piece was published in Volume 2 Number 17 (2010) of Classical Fighting Arts. One suspects that it was the product of many years of frustration as the authors continued to encounter martial arts marketing and myths being presented as academic history. Sensing that there might be some confusion as to what the discipline of history actually entails, Kennedy set about explaining in simple terms, and with great patience, what sorts of standards we should hold would-be researchers too. Everyone with an interest in Chinese martial arts history should read this piece. Nor does one have to track down back issues of magazines on ebay to do so. This essay was reprinted in the same year as Appendix A in Jingwu: The School that Transformed Kung Fu.
It seems only fitting that we should close this remembrance with a few of Kennedy’s own words from the previously mentioned essay on why we as students have a responsibility to do history well:
One might ask why historical accuracy matters, what difference does it make if the comic book version of martial arts history is the one that you see in the magazines, the internet and the chat forums. The reason it matters is “respect.” Real life people, not cartoon characters, not Shaw Brother Shaolin Monks, not Daoist Immortals, but real life people living in the real world with real problems made Chinese martial arts what it is today. And these real people, working in real life circumstances, deserve the credit for having developed Chinese martial arts into the strong and proud thing that it is today.
To honor these people, the teachers, students, developers and creators of Chinese martial arts means looking at the historical realities of their lives. To paint them up as cartoon characters or to fill their lives with absurd feats is not honoring them. To honor them we must present them as they were and that is why history matters.
