I wrote this article in January 2019, I edited, updated and reposted in July 2025.
After more than 44 years [edit: now 50] of training in the kung fu I learned from Master Chan Hon Chung, I remain convinced that traditional teaching and training methods are the only way to preserve the conceptual nature of Hung Kuen and truly grasp its fundamental principles. These insights come from my personal journey as a long-time Hung Kuen practitioner at the Hon Chung Gymnasium, but I believe they resonate with most classic martial arts, not just Chinese ones.
Once upon a time in 20th-century Hong Kong, there was the “kung fu Sifu.” Typically a respected local figure—often a traditional doctor or bonesetter—he ran a Chinese martial arts school out of his back shop, known as a “tong.” The teaching was wonderfully informal, almost innocent: no structured classes, no rankings, no colored belts, no instructors, no formal admission ceremonies, no bureaucracy, and no organized lessons or courses. Fees were low, or even waived for those who couldn’t afford them.
The Sifu was the custodian of the style, and students, referred to as “brothers,” were part of a family. More experienced students would help beginners in a consistently positive atmosphere. When a Sifu felt it was time to step down, he would select the most suitable student as his successor, just as he himself had been chosen.
The Sifu would usually appear in the training space for only a few minutes here and there, often between seeing patients. Learning was primarily based on mutual imitation and peer assistance. Yet, despite this unorganized environment and seemingly spontaneous teaching, the style remained faithful to its ancient roots. This was due to its conceptual nature, built upon a minimalistic yet incredibly efficient set of principles, movements, and transitions. Forms were learned relatively quickly, followed by a longer period dedicated to understanding, refining, and eventually applying them in sparring, harmoniously adapting the conceptual techniques to one’s own physical structure and sensibility.
This method fostered a positive creative effort, leading to a wide variety of applications that were practiced, compared, and exchanged among the “brothers.” As students improved, they naturally introduced their personal interpretations, always grounded in the basic concepts but tailored to their unique build, attitude, and sensibility. This natural process didn’t dilute the system’s purity; its conceptual foundation ensured it could be safely passed down, untainted, through generations.
Crucially, this traditional approach was indeed martial. People could effectively use what they learned in sparring and combat. It worked in the real world because the concepts were realistic and adaptable to the unpredictable variables of a genuine fight. Take, for example, a double tiger fist (and the same applies to crane, snake, leopard fists, etc.). It shouldn’t be seen or taught as a fixed sequence of codified movements (e.g., “block this, then grab that, pull, strike”). Instead, it’s the idea of a combined defensive and offensive action, performed with two hands moving in sync or with a short delay, aiming to block or deflect, enter, and hit or grab, all while occupying the opponent’s space.
Things changed dramatically at the very end of the millennium. Soaring land values and labor costs in Hong Kong (and mainland China) made this ancient model unsustainable. Schools now required a solid base of paying students who needed to be kept engaged. Much like what happened nearly a century earlier in Japan when Gichin Funakoshi adapted Okinawan karate into Shotokan, the happily informal Chinese kung fu evolved into an organized system. This ushered in hierarchies, ceremonies, structured classes and courses, exams, and degrees, along with a proliferation of instructors, colored belts, and uniforms.
Most significantly, the conceptual techniques were segmented and rigidified into fixed movements. This created an artificial fragmentation, essentially “freezing” the art’s core. The goal was to dilute and complicate the material, substantially lengthening teaching time. The few days it took to learn a form in the 1980s stretched into months in modern schools, keeping students enrolled and generating a larger, steady income for much longer.
This artificial fragmentation eventually shifted the focus from the core concepts to individual movements, jeopardizing the vital creative process of comprehension and assimilation that had preserved Hung Kuen’s conceptual nature—the true essence of the art. Basic principles were replaced with long sequences of stereotyped movements, which then became subject to layered personal adaptations, often driven by false myths. A prime example is the pervasive myth of the “low stance at all costs,” a misunderstanding that leads practitioners to open their hip to go lower, disrupting their center of gravity, defusing waist energy, and losing control of their action space. It’s astonishing how many teachers, whether obscure or celebrated, fall into this fundamental error.
This pedantic teaching attitude and fragmentation quickly led to a significant alteration of the style within just a few years. The pure conceptual ideas, replaced by sets of frozen movements, now incorporated the conscious and unconscious adaptations applied by every single instructor during transmission. Consequently, instead of the traditional minimalistic efficiency, we now often see movements that might look flashy in a demonstration—where the opponent “strikes upon request”—but are totally useless in a real fight. This uselessness becomes painfully obvious when watching a sparring session: instead of applying what they’ve supposedly learned, practitioners often try to mimic Western boxers, because their frozen techniques simply cannot cope with the unpredictable chaos of real action.
My hope is that all teachers of good will, who are genuinely committed to the conceptual nature of Hung Kuen (and indeed, to every other classic Chinese and non-Chinese martial art), will return to focusing on its original spirit and deep martial essence. This is crucial for its preservation over time and for the future benefit of the entire martial arts world.
PS: This video is a clear example of how Kung Fu is taught while neglecting the basic concepts of every martial art. This practitioner knows all the moves, but performs them without connecting the whole body, so power and penetration are totally absent.