When Lineage Becomes Worship: How Martial Arts Slide Into Cult-Like Thinking - By Sensei Liam Musiak

Questioning Is Not Disrespect — It Is Responsibility

The idea that questioning a martial art is “disrespect to the sensei, master, or founder” is one of the most dishonest beliefs in modern martial arts culture. It exists not to protect students, but to shield instructors and systems from scrutiny and exposure.

Martial arts were never meant to be protected from questioning. They were meant to be tested, broken, and refined through pressure, failure, and reality. When questioning is framed as disrespect, what is really being defended is authority — not effectiveness, not safety, and not truth.

A system that cannot be questioned is not rooted in humility. It is rooted in fear: fear of being wrong, fear of losing status, and fear of discovering that parts of the system no longer work outside a controlled dojo environment.

When respect is used to silence questions, it stops being respect and becomes a tool of control.

Criticism Is How Systems Improve — Excuses Are How They Decay

When I teach, I welcome criticism — openly and without defensiveness. Not because it feels good, but because it makes the system better.

Criticism exposes blind spots. It forces refinement. It removes fantasy. If something doesn’t work, I want to know. If something can be improved, I expect it to be. If someone finds a flaw, that flaw matters more than my ego.

That mindset is non-negotiable.

Now compare that to what happens in many traditional dojos.

Questioning is met with excuses:

• “You’re not high enough rank to understand yet.”

• “That only works after decades of training.”

• “You’re doing it wrong — the technique is fine.”

• “It’s not meant to be used like that.”

• “You’ll understand one day.”

These are not explanations. They are deflection mechanisms.

Instead of analysing whether a technique failed, the blame is shifted to the student. Instead of testing the idea, the idea is protected. Instead of improving the system, the system is insulated.

That is how martial arts stagnate.

Obedience, Hierarchy, and “Time-Served” Authority: A Core Structural Flaw

In many traditional martial arts systems, particularly those built on rigid hierarchical models, questioning the instructor has historically been framed as disrespect, insubordination, or a lack of humility. This is not incidental — it is a cultural expectation embedded into the structure itself.

The relationship between student and instructor is strictly hierarchical. The instructor’s word is treated as the primary, and often absolute, source of knowledge. Challenging a technique or asking whether something actually works is not interpreted as curiosity or critical thinking, but as an attempt to undermine authority.

Students are expected to show obedience and compliance. Instructions are to be followed precisely, without deviation. The assumption is that the instructor possesses a depth of knowledge earned over decades, while the student simply lacks the experience to understand the “why.” As a result, questioning is delayed indefinitely — sometimes for years — rather than encouraged as part of learning.

This culture is reinforced through silence and observation. Talking during class is often discouraged or outright forbidden unless the instructor explicitly invites a question. Learning is expected to occur through silent repetition, observation, and personal discovery, not through explanation, dialogue, or testing. Understanding is something you are told will come later, after enough time has been served.

Respect within this framework is closely tied to time served. Those who have trained longer are automatically granted authority, and their methods are assumed to be correct by default. A junior student asking “does that actually work?” can be viewed as arrogant — a sign of poor character rather than a legitimate question. Time becomes a shield against scrutiny.

The unspoken expectation is simple: shut up and train.

Any failure of a technique is blamed on the student — insufficient rank, insufficient years, insufficient humility — never on the method itself. Excuses replace analysis. Authority replaces evidence. The system protects itself by framing criticism as a moral failing rather than a technical one.

This is not a harmless tradition. It is a major structural flaw.

When Preservation Replaces Purpose

There is a point where “preserving the art and lineage” becomes more important than what the art is supposed to do. When that happens, the martial art has already failed — it just hasn’t admitted it yet.

Martial arts exist to deal with violence, chaos, and unpredictability. The moment loyalty to a name, a lineage, or a founder becomes more important than whether a technique actually works, students are no longer being trained — they are being reassured.

This is where martial arts culture begins to resemble religion rather than training.

In churches, there are images of Jesus on the wall. In many dojos, founders’ photos are displayed in the same way — positioned above students, silently reinforcing reverence. Their words are treated like scripture. Their methods are treated as sacred. Questioning is treated like heresy.

At that point, respect has crossed into cult-like behaviour.

Phrases like “this is how it’s always been done” or “this is what the founder intended” function exactly like religious doctrine: they shut down debate, block scrutiny, and demand obedience rather than understanding.

That is not martial thinking. That is faith.

The Founders Were Human — Not Divine Authority

The founders were not gods. They were not infallible. They were not delivering eternal truth. They were human beings responding to the violence, culture, law, and limitations of their own time.

Treating their work as untouchable is not honouring them — it is misunderstanding them completely.

The claim that “this is what the founder intended” is almost always false. I guarantee that if the founders were alive today, inventing their systems now, their martial arts would look completely different.

Different crimes.

Different attackers.

Different weapons.

Different legal consequences.

Different environments.

They adapted because they had to. Freezing their work in time directly contradicts the very mindset that created it.

Legacy Is Being Used as a Shield Against Improvement

I would love to be remembered one day. That is human. But I never want my name, my photo, or my teachings used as icons on a wall to justify refusing change.

If my system does not change meaningfully within five years, I will be annoyed with myself. If it looks the same decades from now, I will consider that a failure. And if, eighty years from now, people are still pointing to my photo and saying “this is how it was done” while refusing to improve, I’ll be rolling in my grave.

Not because I hate tradition — but because I hate stagnation disguised as loyalty.

My work is not sacred. It is provisional. It exists to be questioned, pressure-tested, broken, and rebuilt better. Anyone who treats it as untouchable has completely missed the point.

Lineage Is Not a Shield

Lineage is often presented as proof of quality. It isn’t.

Lineage tells you where something came from — not whether it still works. A long line of names does not turn an ineffective method into an effective one, and it does not excuse a refusal to adapt. Yet in many dojos, lineage is treated as armour — something that protects techniques and ideas from being questioned.

When lineage becomes the final argument, critical thinking stops.

Students are told that something works because it was passed down, not because it has been tested. Techniques are defended by ancestry rather than evidence. Any failure is blamed on the practitioner, never the method.

Lineage should provide context, not authority. Inspiration, not immunity.

The moment lineage is used to avoid scrutiny, it stops being history and starts being an excuse.

When Respect Slides Into Cult Behaviour

There is a point where respect for founders and lineage stops being healthy and starts becoming cult-like.

This does not happen overnight. It happens quietly, through behaviour rather than intention.

Questioning is discouraged because it threatens hierarchy. Criticism is reframed as disrespect. Failure is blamed on the student. Over time, the system becomes insulated from scrutiny.

That is how cult behaviour forms — through the suppression of questioning.

When ideas or people are placed beyond challenge, critical thinking stops. Loyalty replaces honesty. Conformity replaces responsibility. The art is no longer allowed to evolve because doing so would require admitting imperfection at the top.

Martial arts cannot afford that mindset. Violence does not care about hierarchy, and reality does not reward obedience.

Respect should create accountability, not immunity.

The moment a martial art becomes untouchable, it stops being martial.

Stagnation Is Not Respect — It Is Negligence

Martial arts are not diluted by change. They are diluted by refusing to change while pretending they still work.

A system that cannot be questioned becomes dogma.

A system that cannot be tested becomes myth.

And a system that prioritises preservation over effectiveness puts people at risk.

This is not a philosophical disagreement. It is a matter of responsibility.

Violence does not respect rank.

Attackers do not honour lineage.

Reality does not care what the founder intended.

If your martial art cannot be questioned, pressure-tested, and adapted to modern reality, it is not a living system.

It is a myth.

And myths do not protect people.