015 — The Okinawan Spirit of Not Losing, Part 5: In Conclusion

An AI-generated photorealistic likeness of the back streets of Okinawa, based on historical reference images.

The narrow back streets of old Okinawa were more than just passageways between homes and shops — they were places where neighbors exchanged greetings and where the rhythm of daily life moved at a human pace. It was in this environment, steeped in courtesy, mutual respect, and the ever-present awareness of community, that Karate's moral code took shape. The spirit of "not losing" was not forged in the ring, but in these quiet lanes, where preserving harmony mattered more than proving dominance.

"Karate ni sente nashi." — In Karate, there is no first attack.

This well-known maxim has been repeated in dōjō for generations, but its meaning is far more than "don't strike first." It speaks to intent, restraint, and moral responsibility. It reminds us that the highest ideal in Karate is to prevent harm whenever possible — and, when conflict cannot be avoided, to end it with the minimal force necessary.

On Okinawa, the concept of "not losing" goes beyond its literal meaning. It means resolving conflict with restraint, control, and moral clarity so that neither party suffers unnecessary harm — preserving dignity, peace, and safety over the pursuit of victory. This is not passivity. It is disciplined action, born of a clear mind guided by a moral compass.

Many misunderstand "no first attack" to mean never taking the initiative. In truth, it demands knowing exactly when and how to act. This is where the principles of sen, sen-no-sen, and go-no-sen apply — each offering a way to respond to conflict in harmony with the spirit of "not losing."

Though these are Japanese terms, the combative principles they describe were undoubtedly understood and practiced by Okinawan karateka. On Okinawa, timing was not viewed as purely tactical — it was also moral. The questions of when to act, how to act, and why to act were inseparable. Sen refers to taking the initiative at the moment a threat becomes unavoidable, seizing control before an opponent can fully commit. Sen-no-sen, or "before the attack," is the act of intercepting an opponent's movement at its very inception, stopping aggression before it gains momentum. Go-no-sen, or "after the attack," is responding only once the opponent's action has begun, using precise timing and control to neutralize danger without preemptive aggression.

These are not simply fighting strategies — they are expressions of judgment, restraint, and proportionality. Within Okinawan culture, the goal was not to win at any cost, but to act at the right moment and in the right way to protect life and restore peace.

Matsumura Sōkon (c. 1809–1899), court retainer and chief martial arts instructor to the Ryūkyū king, faced a challenge unlike any other — a contest against a ferocious bull. In one telling, he met the beast head-on in the ring, waiting until the last possible instant to unleash a kiai that caused it to falter and flee. In another, he prepared for days beforehand, conditioning the animal to retreat at the sight of him. In either case, Matsumura acted only after the threat was fully in motion. The attack had, in fact, already been made — first when the king commanded him to face the bull, and again when the bull charged. His measured response was an example of go-no-sen — meeting danger with decisive action once the attack was underway, ending the conflict without harm to himself or the animal.

Miyagi Chōjun (1888–1953) found himself facing a large, aggressive foreign sailor in Naha's busy port district. By some accounts, the man had been drinking; by others, he was simply combative. Either way, Miyagi's response was instantaneous. As the sailor moved to strike, Miyagi intercepted — not after the blow had landed, but at the moment the attack was born. This was sen-no-sen — taking control at the very instant aggression was initiated, cutting it off before harm could occur. His timing and restraint allowed him to subdue the sailor without injury, safeguarding himself, the sailor, and those nearby, preserving both dignity and peace.

Sōken Hohan (1889–1982) came upon a group of young men harassing a woman. Without hesitation, he stepped forward. When one of the men moved aggressively, Sōken acted decisively before the man could launch his attack. This was sen — taking the initiative at the point where the threat became immediate and unavoidable. Acting with just enough force to stop it before it could escalate, his intervention was swift, decisive, and minimal — protecting the woman and dispersing the group without unnecessary harm.

From these examples, it is clear that Okinawa's culture valued harmony, the sanctity of life, and the avoidance of unnecessary conflict. Karate was forged from this culture — a means of self-protection and protection of others, guided by the understanding that power without moral grounding is dangerous. True victory was not about defeating another, but about preventing unnecessary destruction.

Today, Karate is often corrupted by medals, points, or public displays of dominance. In the process, deeper lessons have been obscured: Karate is not about proving superiority — it is about cultivating self-mastery and applying skill with discipline and restraint.

Without a moral base, Karate and martial arts in general become nothing more than stylized violence. Without the concept of "not losing," we risk losing the very essence that makes Karate an art rather than just a method of pugilism.

To keep Karate whole and authentic, we must remember that Karate ni sente nashi is not a passive ideal, but a call to disciplined, principled action. "Not losing" means bringing conflict to an end without causing needless harm. The accurate measure of skill lies not in how hard one can strike, but in how one chooses to engage with and control the situation. When training, it is essential to develop the mind, body, and spirit — for mastering technique is not enough; we must also cultivate sound judgment.

Matsumura did not need to fight the bull. Miyagi did not need to injure the sailor. Sōken did not need to brutalize the young men. Each acted accordingly with enough force to end the moment — no more.

As Spider-Man once said, "With great power comes great responsibility." The old masters of Okinawa not only understood this but lived it.

That is the Okinawan spirit of not losing — a powerful choice left for us to uphold. The question is: Will we?