The Myth of the Secret Master: Critical Thinking and Reality in the Martial Arts

 The Illusion of Power and the Appeal of Magic
We’ve all seen videos of qigong "masters" who use their mystical powers when confronted by multiple attackers—magically tossing them through the air, sending them to the ground convulsing, and effortlessly subduing them. Then we see a video of the same master up against a non-believer, where suddenly his power doesn't work, and he gets thrashed.
The question is: Why do his followers believe him in the first place? What happens to their ability to think critically and rationally when all evidence points elsewhere?
There is an Eastern mystique that goes along with the martial arts—one that somehow applies exclusively to this discipline and no other physical endeavor. Over fifty years ago, I was in a class with Teruyuki Okazaki Sensei, a Japanese Shotokan karate master, and he asked everyone:
"If you see in a magazine 'learn guitar in thirty days' or 'master tennis or baseball in thirty days,' do you believe it? No, you don't. But if it says, 'learn karate, judo, or death strikes in thirty days,' you do. Why?"
It makes no sense. It’s not magic; it’s hard work and discipline. Of course he was right, but unfortunately, this kind of thinking did happen then and still happens now.
The Myth of the Secret Lineage
Over my decades in the martial arts, I have met so many people who claimed to have learned a secret style or technique that no one else had access to. The story usually goes that they were taught by some mysterious person who roamed out of the forest, or a legendary master who, at the end of their life, chose them exclusively to impart what no one else had ever learned.
Generally, these are disenfranchised students who suddenly become the center of the art through this "divine intervention," and now they alone can teach it. Of course, the master then disappears back into the forest so he cannot be questioned, or he dies and cannot disavow what these fellows are selling.
Let’s entertain this narrative, since I have personally experienced it three times in my life:

1. The master dies.
2. A marginal student steps forward and says, "I am the only one he taught the real style to—no one else—and I alone can pass it on."

So, Master Sasquatch, after a lifetime of teaching dozens of students over decades, decided right before he died to teach you the art he kept hidden from everyone else? This assumes he knew he was going to die and taught you right before he croaked—very prescient of him. Now you are the only great and powerful wizard holding the precious ring.
It makes me wonder what a wretch this master must have been to deceive all his other students for so long. It’s not ethical, moral, or honest; clearly a person of low character to do that—and yet he supposedly advances you.
So why didn’t you tell anyone before? The answer is always the same in these stories: "He didn't want to create controversy when he was alive, so I couldn't tell anyone. I was sworn to secrecy until he died."
So, causing mass controversy after his death is okay, but not before? What a schmuck this guy must have been.
Of course, there is no evidence of this pact: no pictures, tape recordings, or written documents—just your word. All those other students who spent decades were conned and betrayed, but you alone have the secret ring, right? In some cases, every technique this new "master" passes on is completely different from what was taught for decades. How did he practice it if it was so secret? And the grandmaster he got it from? It’s nowhere evident in any previous lineage. Did they all just wait until they were about to die to pass it on? Pretty amazing.
Cults, Funerals, and Pay-to-Play Successors
Some people buy these stories, and the cult begins. About twelve years ago, a master I knew well was dying, and I made a prediction: soon after his death, the secret students would appear claiming secret midnight teachings and status no one else knew about.
It took only a week before one appeared, declaring they had secret conversations and were the rightful next-generation master, regardless of who actually received that title. Predictably, this fellow was not at the funeral, did not help carry the coffin like true students, and did not help the family.
Someone commented to me after the funeral that I seemed very distraught as I stood by the coffin for a long time. I wasn't. I was reading every funeral arrangement card to see if the "new" master had even sent flowers. He hadn't. I did the same at the gravesite. Yet here he was, declaring himself the guardian of this lineage and holder of the precious ring.
In the Chinese gongfu tradition, it is common for a master to create a sun toi (神台,altar) for his prized student. This personal altar is either kept by the family or passed on to the new head teacher. As someone who has been through this ceremony, I know its importance to a school as the mechanism for passing blessings down to rightful descendants. Somehow, these new "secret students" didn’t get that memo and have zero record of the lineage.
There is another, even more unethical side to this. Some masters initiate a new disciple under a cover of secrecy—teaching nothing new—strictly to receive a large stipend. Totally egregious in my opinion. There are schools where the public has known the main representative for years, and then suddenly—oops!—sorry, he's not the successor anymore despite battling for the school for decades. Now "Johnny Cage" is the one, ignoring the fact that he paid a ton of money for the title. Nothing to see here, move along.
Several years ago, guys associated with a well-known school claimed they went to China, a monk came out of the jungle to teach them the real mantis (the secret "Blue Mantis Society"), and only they were chosen. This master recognized them as special even though they weren’t Chinese and didn’t speak the language. When they returned, they opened a rival school to the original one. Sounds legit, right?
Consider one more example. A well-known US teacher frequently talked about his fighting days in Taiwan, secret tournaments, and accomplishments. Later, a mutual friend—who happened to be Taiwanese and knew all the stories—visited the exact spot in Taiwan where these events supposedly took place. In most old schools, the walls are lined with pictures of past students and masters, and he looked for verification. He had no doubt the stories were true, but there was zero evidence this guy had ever been there, and being non-Asian, his picture would have instantly stood out. When this ‘master’ was confronted, he gave the predictable response: he was a secret student that no one else knew about.
What Can You Hide?
Where else does this happen?

• Do famous sports coaches come out and declare that Johnny Superstar is no longer the flag bearer for the sport?
• Will Mick Jagger announce that the immortal Keith Richards isn't the real guitarist and writer for the Stones, but Johnny Bonobo is?

Nope. This bizarre dynamic happens exclusively in the mystical world of the martial arts.
Over forty years ago, Sifu Mark Foon noted that people accused him of "hiding his hands"—meaning he had secret moves he was keeping from everyone else. He just laughed and said:
"Look, my hand moves up and down, side to side, and in circles. What can I hide?"
There is nothing to hide. You just need a skilled eye to see what is right in front of you. As a great fighter I know once observed while watching students in a class: "They cannot digest the meal they are being offered." In other words, he’s not hiding anything, you are not developed enough to understand his skill. In conclusion, when someone offers a very unlikely story on their ascendance through any discipline, especially one that concerns secret teachings, titles and societies, be very skeptical. Think about a courtroom scenario; if they presented what they are saying as evidence in a courtroom would it stand up? Does it stand beyond a reasonable doubt or would it be dismissed as hearsay?  Really think about it instead of just believing what someone offers no matter how convincing they may seem. Data over dogma, evidence over belief.