Sine qua non
All human activities
have a goal, or organizing principle, or sina
qua non related to that activity. I
call it the foundational imperative of the activity.
The goal of
equitation is to ride a horse from point a to point b. The sine qua non of
equitation, the foundational imperative is: Stay on the horse! I submit
that any approach to equitation that results in your being thrown, trampled or
dragged by the stirrup is invalid.
The goal of
swimming is to cross the water in the water from point a to point b. The sine
qua non of swimming, the foundational imperative is: Don’t drown! I submit that
any approach to swimming that results in you drowning is invalid.
The goal of
a swordfight, or duel, if you prefer, is not to get killed. To survive the
fight. The foundational imperative of “fencing” then is: Don’t get stabbed!
Indeed, the
word “fencing” comes from Old French meaning to fend off or to ward away a
blow. The primary and definitive skill of the fencer is defense. Not offense.
Swimming in a
pool resulted from and was intended to address the real world need to NOT
drown. Riding around an arena resulted from and was intended to address the
real world need NOT to get thrown, or trampled.
Fencing in the salle d’arms resulted from and was intended to address
the real world need NOT to get stabbed.
None of
these activities were created by the whimsy of idle minds, who fabricated, ex recto, rules, conventions, procedures or
recommended practices that were arbitrary or capricious. The rules for the thing were created by
people who had experienced the reality of the thing. The real world reality.
The
only reality that counts.
People who
had experienced and understood the real world requirements of swimming,
developed swimming, based on and consistent with that reality. People who had experienced and understood the
real world requirements of horse-riding developed equitation based on and
consistent with that reality. And people who had experienced and understood the
real world requirements of surviving a sword-fight developed fencing, based on
and consistent with the reality of the duel. They were people who had fought
duels, whose friends an family members had fought duels. They lived at a time
when reports of duels appeared in the newspaper like baseball scores.
Indeed, the fencing rules that govern fencing contests specifically state that the goal of
fencing is to simulate as closely as possible a “courteous and frank
encounter.” What’s a “courteous and frank encounter?” That’s 19th Century-speak
for “duel.”
The purpose
of a fencing contest is to determine who is more skillful at surviving a duel. It’s
not a contest to see who’s stronger or who’s faster because being strong does
not, per se, optimize your chances of surviving a duel. Fencing is not a
contest to see who’s faster because speed does not, per se, optimize your
chances of surviving a duel. Even
strength and speed combined won’t do the trick. The only thing that optimizes
your survival in a duel is your sword-handling skill,
Luck, too, I
suppose. But you should always remember the first rule of luck: it runs out.
The person
best able to survive a duel is the one who never receives a “touch” (a wound).
Touching the opponent is a secondary consideration because it isn’t required
for your own survival.
In summary, fencing
is specifically and explicitly intended to simulate a duel, and fencers are bound
to conduct themselves as if those blades were sharp. If you just got here from
Mars and read those rules in a vacuum, they don’t make any sense. The contest
rules are not an instruction manual for people who don’t know how to fence. The
rules exist to clarify and codify standard operating procedure for people who
already know how to fence. The rules provide standard definitions, a common
language, and describe established principles. They serve to ensure a safe
contest, a fair contest, and a true contest, that is a contest with the highest
degree of verisimilitude. All fencers
and officials agree, by their participation, to follow those rules.
But do they?
WE do.
When you
boil it all down, the definitive difference between “classical” fencing and
“modern sport fencing,” which is the so-called “fencing” you see in the
Olympics, is this:
In classical fencing, we follow the
rules the way they were written and for the purpose for which they were
intended. We don’t cheat. We don’t
creatively “interpret.” We’re not interested in gaming the rules, or bending
the rules, let alone breaking the rules.
The rules are “sacred” not because they are rules, but because they are
logical, rational and realistic, not arbitrary or capricious. The rules specify exactly how you should fight a duel IF you want to maximize your chances of survival.
And that,
you might say, is the point.
-aac
