The worth of a (black) belt - Part 2



The purpose of the belt

And I don’t want to rehash the old, old, old ‘joke’ about it holding up your pants (karate belts hold the top closed in any case).

Why award a belt in the first place? What purpose does it have within the eyes of the awardee, their sensei, their dojo, their organisation, and outside their organisation?

The individual

The purpose of a black belt, in the eyes of the person awarded it, is the hardest question to answer. Each person will likely have their own take on it, depending on how they view the continuum of ranking in the martial arts, what preconceptions they brought into their training prior to beginning karate, and environment and the attitudes of their dojo and peers. So, I’m not going to discuss this aspect, as I will probably only project my own values onto others if I do. But it is an aspect that I think each person who is aiming for, or has achieved a certain level within karate needs to reflect on. For me, my personal opinion is the real arbiter of its worth, more so than the value anyone else attaches to it.

The sensei/dojo
What is the purpose of grades for the instructor awarding them, or for the dojo? On the surface, the obvious is for everyone to know who is senior/more experienced or where they should go when classes are split into ability levels. But in a single dojo, where everyone knows everyone else, and the instructor knows exactly what the ability levels of everyone are, how necessary is it? I would like to argue that belts are not necessary for small groups’ organisational requirements, but that their purpose within a small group with only one main instructor is to indicate the individual’s improvement relative to themselves, as it is to indicating their improvement relative to others. In this scenario, the belt signifies a training relationship between the teacher and the student; a form of recognition that in the eyes of the teacher, they have reached a point in their development where they can move on to the next stage. What this next stage is may vary from person to person, or from grade to grade.

This has four major implications. Firstly, the black belt is relational. Its worth depends on the depth of understanding and acceptance that their teacher has of their abilities/understanding. Secondly, the worth of the belt is defined by the worth of the teacher - their abilities, standards and standing. Thirdly, the worth of the belt as a symbol wanes, the further from the teacher and the dojo that you go; it becomes essentially meaningless outside of the dojo, and definitely outside of the organisation (if any exists). Fourthly, there is a degree of variance expected within and between belt holders and levels within the dojo - a fit 20 year old would not be held to the same standards as a 60 year old for instance. The worth of the belt is relative.  
These will all be considerations in how the individual in such a dojo views their belt - both positive and negative. Personally, I have felt both these extremes over the years: the positive effect on my own sense of self worth from being appraised and recognised by someone whose opinion I respect; and the negative effect on my comparisons of myself with others who hold the same rank (both devaluing to myself, but at other times devaluing in my opinion of them leading to my questioning of the validity of the rank itself).

The organisation/association
Belts awarded by organisations, however, can hold value for very different reasons. The worth of a belt to the organisation that awards it, can be dependent on the size of, and desire for control within an organisation. Having consistent standards is often considered desirable for an organisation; it creates reputational consistency, the ability for individuals to change training venues without worrying about not knowing how or what to do, and some martial arts organisations have been constituted with the express purpose of maintaining the traditional ways of their art (which is an excellent topic for another post) - their need for preservation of technique and syllabus requires a high level of consistency across every member of the organisation in order to be met. For an organisation, the actual ability and understanding of an individual with regard to their own development is less important than their ability to conform to and demonstrate certain standards. The belt’s worth lies in its indication of what standard the holder is (notionally) capable of. This worth is then indelibly tied to the criteria, curriculum and standards that the organisation holds.

Belts, then, only hold worth within the organisation; their value as an indicator is not transferrable to another organisation, nor are they a guarantor of the abilities in any shared martial principles between organisations. A corollary of the way that organisations value belts is that members of an organisation will tend to hold a complementary view - their belt’s worth to them is linked to their regard for their parent organisation, rather than to their individual instructor. The value they assign to their grade/belt is linked to the light in which they hold the awarding organisation; possibly as much or more than the regard in which they have regard for their instructor, or the regard they have for their own efforts and ability.

This conflation of the meaning of the belt to the organisation with its meaning to the self is something I struggled with in the late 90s when, after joining what I thought was a large organisation, I found that the instructor and dojo were in the process of quietly going independent. They were still using the name of the organisation in their advertising, but were no longer paying their membership fees and were not registering grades with the parent body. This caused me a lot of internal conflict as I was enjoying the training, had a good relationship with the instructors, but felt that the value of continuing, both in my progress and in the worth of my grading (which would only be recognised in the dojo it was awarded in) was being compromised by this split. While this internal struggle did not cause me to leave the dojo, it made it easier for me to come to that decision further down the track. It was only some years later after a hiatus of a couple of years in my training that I was able to think through what I considered the belt to represent - what its worth is to me - that I was able to recognise that I was seeking two incompatible things: standardisation of worth v. personalisation of worth. In other words, to me, is the value of a belt/rank intrinsic or extrinsic? I now have worked out that answer - for me - but it is something everyone who aspires to or holds a black belt needs to work out for themselves.

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