The Black Belt Betrayal: A Call to Return to True Martial Values



"I didn't start martial arts to be the toughest guy in the bathroom. I started to become a better human being."

Today, the belts are brighter, the stripes more numerous, the halls of fame more crowded—and yet the soul of martial arts has never felt so empty.

We live in an era when anyone with a checkbook can purchase a black belt. Where "grandmasters" outnumber students. Where some wear more stripes than skills, and honor is replaced with hashtags and hall-of-fame selfies. Where the sacred teachings of self-control, humility, and courage are traded in for fame, fear, and financial gain.

I've seen too much. I've seen schools hand out black belts after six months. I've seen instructors give themselves titles their masters never earned, because their masters are long gone, and can no longer speak up. I’ve watched America become the land of opportunity… and sometimes, the land of illusion.

And I'm here to say: Enough.

Martial arts were never meant to glorify violence, promote anger, fear, or hate, or become another pay-to-play arena for ego and entertainment.

They were meant to build people. Strong people. Honest people. People who stand up not for recognition, but for what's right.

The lying must stop. The fake masters must step down. The real teachers must rise again—and remind the world what this path was always about:

• Discipline over domination.

• Character over competition.

• Honor over hype.

If you're a martial artist, I challenge you: Find your name. Define what you're really creating, supporting, and selling. Is it fear, pain, and image? Or is it growth, courage, and truth?

I was once considered the first superstar in the sport of karate. But I was only a shodan—a first-degree black belt. I never claimed more, because my belt wasn't about fame. It was about the foundation.

And so I stand here, not as a grandmaster, not as a hall-of-famer, but as a man who still believes in what martial arts can be. What they once were. What they still must become again.

Let’s bring back the soul of the art.

Let’s train with integrity.

Let’s teach with humility.

Let’s fight for the truth.

Martial Integrity Over Modern Imitation

As the art of karate evolved and merged into the realm of various combat sports, I observed a steady decline in the attitudes and values of many students. The art, the values, and the principles I fell in love with when I first began training were disappearing from the martial arts landscape. The future of combat sports seemed built on the passion and vision of young men seeking fame and fortune, venting aggression and anger. It was no longer a noble quest for self-mastery and personal growth.

The lure of money, fame, and entertainment was diluting the virtues and principles of the Bushido code. Aggression and violence were being rewarded and glorified under the banner of "mixed martial arts," overshadowing the deeper spiritual foundation that once defined the martial arts. The spirit of the art I had once fallen in love with must now make a focused and determined effort to reclaim its code of honor.

That code courses through our veins. It resides in our DNA. We are its guardians—the originators, pioneers, innovators, instructors, and warriors raised during the "blood and guts" era. We can no longer sit idly by, reminiscing about the good old days, silently suppressing the truths we feel deep in our hearts. Why has it become about money, ego, pride, recognition, and fame? Have we truly forgotten how to know ourselves?

I remember asking Koichi Tohei after one of my first classes, "Sir, how should I address you?" He replied simply, "Just call me Sensei. I'm a teacher." At that time, he was the highest-ranked practitioner of Aikido in the world, second only to the founder, Professor Ueshiba. In my entire martial arts journey, which began in 1963, I’ve met only a handful of exceptional martial artists whom I am proud to call Sensei.

When did titles, ranks, and certificates come to the forefront? When did Hall of Fame ceremonies become showcases for status rather than substance? When did we devote our energy to pursuing recognition rather than refining our skills, abilities, and character? And by whose authority are we calling ourselves Masters and Grand Masters? Did we receive divine blessings? Did God serve on the promotion board?

I’ve watched people skip the years of discipline and character-building it takes to earn a black belt truly. I've seen more self-appointed grandmasters in this country than in the homelands where these arts were born. Where are their teachers? Who validated their knowledge and skills? Many claim their teachers are deceased, conveniently unable to verify or refute their stories.

We must take an honest inventory of who we are. I have no agenda tied to my credentials. I remain at peace being a Shodan. I still see myself as a student, in pursuit of truth and honesty about my abilities and character. I do not feel I have contributed enough to deserve the praise and honors I have received. My passion has always been to learn, grow, and serve others.

Truth, Love, and the Inner Fight

Truth and authenticity are the highest states of being I strive for. This has been the most challenging pursuit of my life. I’ve failed many times, but I’ve always gotten back up. That persistence has been my saving grace. That spark is the essence of my spiritual existence—it is the force and nature of who I am.

Imagine if we committed ourselves to a greater purpose: working together to champion the original values of our martial code. I believe the Bushido warrior code should be taught in all dojos and implemented in educational institutions worldwide, beginning as early as age five.

Imagine a world where integrity, courage, respect, honor, honesty, humility, patience, compassion, truth, and love are not only taught but lived. It is up to us, martial artists, to return to our roots and transmit our foundational values to the next generation. It would be a tremendous contribution to society. We must encourage our youth to embrace the Warrior Lifestyle and nurture the Warrior Spirit.

We all seek love. It’s a universal longing that transcends age, culture, and circumstance. We want to love and be loved, to feel valued and understood. Yet, many of us are searching for love in the wrong places.

As physical beings, we are naturally rooted in the material world. Over time, that connection has become an obsession: homes, cars, money, luxury, and appearance. There is nothing wrong with enjoying the finer things, but problems arise when we let them define us or become the sole source of our happiness.

We neglect our inner selves—our mental and spiritual well-being—in favor of outward gain. This imbalance leaves us feeling drained and unfulfilled. True fulfillment comes from harmony between body, mind, and spirit. When one is out of balance, everything suffers. We may be successful in our careers yet struggle in our relationships or health. We may be financially secure but feel emotionally empty.

This imbalance affects our personal and professional relationships. It breeds stress, confusion, and insecurity. The key is realizing that real love is not about external validation. It comes from within—through self-awareness, self-love, and self-respect.

When we align our body, mind, and spirit, we create peace and draw meaningful love into our lives. This alignment empowers us to make better decisions for our health, relationships, and overall well-being. We no longer seek approval outside ourselves—we become grounded in truth.

To achieve this, we must ask: What do I truly value? What brings me peace? What fulfills me spiritually? What is my purpose? The answers shift our focus from the external world to the internal one, where genuine love resides.

Transformation doesn't happen overnight. It's a lifelong journey. However, every small step, whether through meditation, reflection, exercise, or a heartfelt connection, brings us closer to our true essence. Love isn't something we find outside ourselves. It's something we cultivate from within.

The Freedom of Truth and the Warrior's Legacy

After years of self-reflection, I made a quiet yet radical decision: I stopped lying to others, and most importantly, to myself. At first, it was painful to admit how often I had done it. Even well-intentioned lies slowly erode our integrity.

The most complicated lies to face were those I told myself, especially in relationships. I had to confront how I had betrayed my truth to avoid conflict or maintain appearances. My failed marriages taught me this. For years, I blamed others, but in time, I realized I hadn't been honest about what I needed or believed. I stayed silent when I should have spoken. I tried to keep the peace by sacrificing my truth.

That silence followed me into the martial arts world. I saw respected practitioners give themselves ranks and titles they hadn't earned. I watched our traditions get distorted and commercialized. I knew it was wrong, yet I said nothing—for fear of backlash, for fear of being labeled.

But silence in the face of dishonor is dishonor.

When I finally began to speak the truth about myself, my failures, and the martial arts, it was like breaking free from a shell. It wasn't easy. I was afraid. But I did it honestly. And with every truth, the burden lifted.

Taking full responsibility is not a punishment. It is liberation. It returns your power. It makes you whole again.

Truth burns away the fog, the uncertainty, and the illusions, and by accepting responsibility for my choices, expressions, and actions, I have gained internal strength and self-confidence.

Being honest and truthful in all my relationships and dealings with others leaves me feeling at peace, calm, and relaxed. Relationships built on truth help create lasting friendships and mutual respect.

Integrity creates a sense of freedom. When your actions align with your values, you no longer need to hide.

This path requires courage. But it is the path of the true warrior, not in name, but in spirit.

I speak not just as a martial artist, but as a man who has stumbled, grown, and evolved over a lifetime. A man who has faced his ultimate opponent: himself.

Responsibility isn't about blame, it's about authorship. What did I choose? What did I allow? What did I avoid? When we live with truth and integrity, we change from the inside out.

We gain clarity, peace, power, and freedom. We stop living in fear. We begin living in truth.

This is the legacy I hope to leave—not one of titles, belts, awards, Hall of Fames, and 17 10th-degree black belt certificates hanging on my walls. How outrageously arrogant.

Because belts fade, certificates gather dust. But character, integrity, honor, respect, courage, and humility—that's what endures.