A Reply to a Fencer Looking for a Traditional Fencing Venue in His Area

A Reply to a Fencer Looking for a Traditional Fencing Venue in His Area

By Nick Evangelista

The fencing master teaching at home, a time-honored tradition.

Hello,

What can I tell you?  You probably won't find traditional fencing where you live. I did a web search for your area, and they're all sport clubs. They’re easy to spot: pistol grips, assembly-line fencing strips, the mandatory scoring machines. Sport high tech. You can’t fence without scoring machines. Hint: How will you know who got the touch without them?

The alternative to the above is, of course, developing actual fencing skills—physical and mental—that transcend technology. Doubtlessly an old-fashioned, mean-spirited, and subversive thought on my part.  The human being is only part of the modern social equation. I sometimes think we are seeing the end of Homo sapiens, who is fast being replaced by the techno-driven Homo electronius. How many people do you know who can say, “I do not own a cell phone, nor do I want one”?

Sport fencing, then, is a creature that fits seamlessly into its time, a reflection of the artifice over substance world we live in. It is a game of shoot from the hip quick draw, strength, speed, and aggression being sold as mastery. With that being said, it is accepted in the mainstream as normal. Is it any wonder that fencing salles operating under their own power is a rarity?

To be fair, post-modern fencing does not pretend to be a representation of its martial origins. Simply put, it is about the accumulation of electronic impulses. This may be with or without opposition, depending on the strength, speed, and aggression of one’s opponent. With this in mind, it might well be false advertising to even call this electronic scavenger hunt “fencing.” Historically, the term fencing is derived from the word “defence,” so without any supporting protection beyond hitting first, how about tagging it “offencing”?

The above being understood, consider that sport fencing, with all its poking and clenched fist swaggering, would not exist without electricity. The scoring machine sorts out the touches--at least in theory—making the scoring machine sport fencing’s god. Without electricity, the life support system of sport fencing would be mute, and fencing exchanges would be nothing more than a blur of double hits. How so? The all-knowing box, thanks to modern technology, separates and divides touches into micro seconds. Without it, a jabbing conversation between two gyrating opponents would be incomprehensible:  onelongwordwithoutabeginningorendonelongwordithoutabeginningorendonelongwordwith outabeginningorendonelongwordwithouatabeginningorend. But, of course, we have electricity, and so the scoring box beckons with its Pavlovian Sirens song. Like any of the techno traps of the 21st century, it grabs the mind and holds on with a vice-like grip.

Historically, it is interesting to learn that the Russians—formerly Soviets--created the concept of what fencing is today: cut out everything except making the light on the scoring machine to go on before the other guy does. They found the best way to utilize the scoring machine. If you need someone to turn on a light switch, the one who runs fastest turns on the light switch.  It's very Marxian: the end justifies the means. It cuts out the need for mastery instantly. I won’t deny it’s a sport, but is it truly FENCING?

It is not surprising, then, in a world society that worships technology, it is difficult to find someone teaching fencing who was trained in Old World human values. By comparison, the traditional game, minus the frills and almost instant thrills of sport fencing, requires a dedication to a long and hard-won process that, to some, has no value. Those who teach the old-fashioned way are out there, but they are also difficult to find.

You might run into Classical Fencing, which eschews sport fencing like the plague. You might think you have found a home. No scoring machines, no running, no poking, no screaming, no displays of dominance.  But this would be an illusion. Classical fencing is made of fluff, a sanitized version of fencing lost in times past. When I watch videos of classical fencing, I ask myself, “Where’s the energy, where’s the dynamic, where’s the fire?” I think of stationary fencing illustrations from the 18th and 19th centuries, posed stick figures frozen in time. I have heard classical fencers equate fencing to a dance, it being very polite and restrained minuet. Classical fencers have referred to me dismissively as a modernist.

What do I think fencing should be? More than anything else, I see the mind and body combining to create a controlled process that takes puzzle pieces, and instantly arranges them into their logical order.  I call this the Logic of the Sharp Point, which is a reflection of fencing’s long martial past. We do what we do on the fencing strip if those things in our hand were sharp, and we act with the energy, in real world time, displaying all the resolve of hitting and not being hit. It’s not the same as fighting with live weapons, of course; but using this concept is a graphic template for doing our very best, and staying true as possible to the precepts of fencing as a combative endeavor.

I believe in what I teach because what I propose to my students has a direct unbroken thread to more martial times.  This is my road map for fencing, and I have stuck with it for fifty-one years. It is what I learned from my fencing master Ralph Faulkner. It is neither fencing shorthand over in two seconds exchanges, nor is it a elegant dance. I describe what I do as the traditional French School of Fencing, which means it has a link to a militant past.

I'm afraid if you want what you are looking for in your area, you'll have to create it yourself. If you know how to teach fencing, you might offer your services to a YMCA, and teach students one-on-one, until you have a group. Or if you have a house, and you can spare the space, you can turn a room or a garage into a fencing studio. Also, some universities have clubs, and if they don't have fencing, organizing a campus fencing club may be a possibility. I speak with authority, because I’ve done it all.

If you go it completely on your own, you'll need a website. It doesn't have to be spectacular, just something to let people know you are there, and what you have to offer. Pictures help. But, again, keep it simple. There are folks who are turned off by the slick, sterile game that fencing has mutated into. To be honest, I don’t see the organized sport of fencing ever returning to fencing as fencing, but that doesn’t mean we have to give up, or fall in lock-step with the many. There are still plenty of people wanting to learn the art and science of fencing who see it as something that should have honor and skill and tradition and maturity as part of the learning process. Someone needs to be there to teach them. Imagine the desperate move taken by the French Fencing Academy to attract new members to its fold: to combat the disinterest that forty years of running, screaming and poking has produced, they have added lightsaber fencing—a la Star Wars and George Lucas—to its repertoire of weapons. They are selling fantasy to would-be Luke Skywalkers. If that isn’t a cry for help, I don’t know what is.

So, put together a plan. Start small and build. It might take a while for you to create what you are hoping for, but it's not impossible. If you offer something worthwhile, people will find you.

Anyway, that's my story.

Take care, and good luck!

NE