Someone sent me this link toa story on Tactical-Life.com about the Center Axis
Relock(C.A.R.) system of Paul
Castle. At the outset it's important to note that I don't think
much of this "system", largely because it asks the shooter to do a
number of things that aren't congruent with how the body reacts to
a threat stimulus. It may or may not have some use to military or
police tactical teams when in a proactive mode, but since I'm
neither of those I'm not qualified to judge its tactical usefulness
in those areas.
I can, however, comment on the intellectual inadequacies of one
specific part of the story. In the fifth paragraph of the article,
the author defends the C.A.R. system's extreme bladed position with
regard to body armor. One of the criticisms of this exaggerated
stance is that it exposes the weakest part of an officer's (or
soldier's) body armor to the threat. The author’s rejoinder
is that the system places the bones and tissue of the upper arm in
a position to protect that vulnerable spot.
Seriously, that's what it says.
There was a shooting instructor back in the 1950s or '60s (whose
name I'm not recalling at the moment) who recommended that the
pistol be shot one handed, with the weak hand reaching across the
chest to the strong shoulder to put the bicep roughly over the
heart to provide protection. Gosh, why aren't we still doing that?
If the bones and muscles of the upper arm are sufficient for
protection of vulnerable areas, why are we wearing body armor at
all?
The whole idea of body armor came about because flesh and bone have
proven to be quite inadequate at stopping bullets. In fact, that's
exactly the kind of material that bullets are designed to defeat.
While a muscled arm may slow the bullet down a bit, it's still
going to go through and into more important organs. Body armor
exists because bullets go through muscles, and we've expended many
resources to give people ever-better armor with fewer and fewer
vulnerable areas.
The sides and arm holes are a well known weakness of all armor, and
the recommendation has always been to keep the front area of the
armor pointed at the threat if at all possible. There are many
stories of soldiers and cops killed because a bullet (or piece of
shrapnel, in some cases) made its way into the body by way of the
open space around the arm - the size of the bicep
notwithstanding.
There are those who will read the article without questioning.
Unless they think critically, examining both the author's
assumptions and logic flow, they might be caught up by the
recasting of a flaw as a feature.
At SHOT I made a passing comment to Pharmacist Tommy that, in the
context of defensive shooting, practicing double taps was a tacit
admission that a person wasn't able to control their gun. He looked
at me quizzically, as I'm sure you're doing right now.
(Let's get some terminology out of the way. Most people shooting
double taps are firing two rounds in quick succession with one
sight picture. Adherents to the so-called "Modern" Technique would
scream that the term is used incorrectly, and that they are
actually shooting 'hammers'. I'll concede the point, in the same
way I concede that the Battle of Bunker Hill was in fact fought on
Breed's Hill - you'll note it's made no difference in elementary
school history lessons, however. I'll continue to use Bunker Hill
and double tap to describe what the majority hold that they
describe, because arguing the point wastes my time and doesn't
change the outcome anyhow.)
Let's start with a question: why practice the double tap as a
defensive tactic? When I watch surveillance and dashcam videos,
regardless of the training level of the shooter, I don't see the
stylized double tap. What I see instead, very consistently, is a
string of fire without artificial pauses. After all, bullets are
what stops bad guys -- and the faster those bullets get to him, the
better.
If you need to shoot your attacker six times, and choose to do so
with three double taps, that means the half-second pause between
those strings gives him a full second to hurt you more. How many
bullets can come out of his gun in one second? How many critical
stab wounds can he inflict? How far can he move? Giving the bad guy
any extra time is counter to your own self interest.
How about double-tapping, then assessing (as is still the
recommendation in some training backwaters)? The answer is that
there is no way to know ahead of time how many shots it's going to
take to make your bad guy go away. That being the case, why on
earth would you stop shooting at an arbitrary point if a threat is
present? The time to asses is after the threat is no longer in
front of your gun, whether that takes one, two, or five rounds.
Practicing to always do that at two rounds means that if your fight
goes longer and you stop to make your well-rehearsed assessment,
you're exposing yourself needlessly to danger.
I could go on, but my point is that the double tap makes no sense
in the context of surviving a lethal attack. The logical practice
routine would be to always fire a random-length string of shots:
two, three, four, and perhaps even occasionally five or six. Mix
'em up; don't get locked into any one pattern.
The double tap really doesn't have a use in defensive shooting, yet
people all over the country continue to practice it. I believe the
answer is simple, and I've observed it in action: if you ask any
random shooter, regardless of his or her proficiency or training
level, to shoot a string of three or four or five rounds at the
same cadence (with the same "split time", or elapsed time between
shots) as the double taps they're flinging downrange, the chances
are almost certain that they won't be able to do so.
What usually happens is that the first two shots land in acceptable
proximity to each other, but the third will climb significantly and
the fourth is usually off the target. In order to land all their
shots inside whatever reasonable target area is chosen, they need
to slow down - sometimes significantly. In other words, they can't
control their gun at that inflated rate.
Now, just about everyone will be faster at the double tap than at
an extended string of fire. The point is that the longer strings of
fire are what are most likely in the context of a defensive
shooting, because the natural reaction is likely to be shooting
until the threat goes away. If the gun can't be controlled in such
a realistic or plausible shooting scenario, then that shooter needs
a different gun (or much better technique) instead of gaming his or
her practice to artificially inflate competence.
Shooting double taps instead of more realistic strings serves as
proof that one cannot control the gun for the use to which it is
likely to be put. It's up to the shooter to recognize, admit, and
change.
As I sat eating lunch last week I found myself perusing a gun forum
with which I'm not all that familiar. On it I ran across a post
from a fairly well known trainer, one that most shooters would not
recognize but those familiar with the training world might. I've
never met the guy, let alone trained with him, but his comments
left me distinctly perturbed.
The statement was in reference to some particular techniques that
he finds important to teach. In defending his approach, he wrote "I
know, statistically, it is unlikely that you'll ever need these
skills. Of course, statistically, it is unlikely you will ever need
a gun at all."
I’m not at all sure that he understands the implications of
what he said.
Let me start with some perspective. The American Cancer Society
tells us that approximately 1.5 million cases of cancer will be
diagnosed this year. With the U.S. population standing at a tad
over 307 million as of the last census, that puts those patients at
about .48% of the population. That’s right - less than
one-half of one percent of the population of the U.S. can expect to
be diagnosed with cancer, which one would have to say is a pretty
small number. (As it happens, it's still quite a bit smaller than
the percentage of people that Kleck and Gertz tell us will use a
gun in self defense the same year, by roughly half. Keep that in
mind.)
Those numbers make it statistically unlikely that any one person
will develop cancer in any given year; the total number of cases is
small compared to the whole population. Even though cancer of all
types is not terribly common, we all know that not all cancers (nor
diagnoses) are equally likely, let alone have the same outcome.
Some cancers are far less prevalent than others; salivary gland
cancer, for instance, occurs in perhaps 6,000 people per year -
compared to nearly a quarter-million who develop who develop
prostate cancer. That’s a huge difference despite the fact
that neither is likely to occur.
What medical science doesn't do is to flail about and proclaim that
since any cancer is "statistically unlikely" to begin with,
they’ll throw the same treatment at all of them in hopes that
something works. That's not how science is done, and it's not how
lives are saved.
Within that small data set of cancer cases there is a huge range of
probabilities and outcomes. It's that very fact that enables
medical science to classify each case and use the best treatment
approach based on where it falls in the data matrix. Since not all
are alike, all do not get the same treatment.
This extends to the research realm as well. We don't spend as much
time and money developing cures for salivary gland cancer as we do
for prostate cancer. We put our research resources where they will
do the most good, where they will save the most lives.
Am I saying that defensive shooting is the same as cancer? Of
course not. What I am saying, though, is that just because an
occurrence of an event is unlikely doesn't mean that all such
occurrences are the same. A small data set does not imply
homogeneity; even in small data sets there are differing
circumstances and results. To imply otherwise is ignorant (or
manipulative.)
Of course it's statistically unlikely that at any given time you'll
need to use your gun. This is not news. Needing to use a gun to
defend yourself is about twice as likely as you developing cancer
this year, mind you, but it's still unlikely. Just because it's
unlikely, however, does not mean that all skill sets related to a
defensive shooting are of equal value!
Just as some cancers are more common than others, some defensive
scenarios are more likely than others. For instance, how often in
private sector self defense incidents are people called on to make
100-yard hostage rescue headshots with a handgun? It may have
happened somewhere or at some time in history, but I think you'd be
hard pressed to find a single case - let alone any sort of trend.
Is that of equal probability to dealing with a simple assault in a
parking lot after dark? Of course not.
Should we train equally in the skills necessary to deal with those
two disparate events simply because neither is "statistically
likely"? I don't think so.
When we look at defensive shooting threats and scenarios, there are
some that are possible but have rarely (if ever) happened; there
are some which happen occasionally but not often, making them at
least plausible; and there are those which happen often enough that
we can see some sort of likelihood, a certain probability of
occurrence. Our problem as students is that none of us has the
unlimited time or resources necessary to train for everything which
is merely possible. We have to take into account the likelihood,
the plausibility, of what can happen when we make training and
technique decisions.
Using the "statistically unlikely you will ever need a gun at all"
argument in relation to training is a smokescreen, a way to ignore
the concept of plausibility. It's an attempt to deflect the
student's attention, to get them to suspend their critical thinking
so that they don't question the actual value of the technique. Yes,
it is unlikely that you'll need to use your gun - but saying so
doesn't magically transform "possible" into "likely", and doesn't
elevate a rarely needed skill into something which is vital to
learn.
It's odd, really. This is the time of year that I pine for the long
days of summer that are sure to come, and in the heat of that
season I wish the early darkenings of winter would get here sooner.
I guess I'm just never happy with the here and now!
---
The whole zombie schtick has long since jumped the shark, and my
thoughts on the utility of a .410 shotgun revolver are well known.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise that someone wouldcombine the two, and likewise it
won’t be a difficult task to figure out what I think of the
thing. (Thanks to Tam forruining my breakfastwith this news.)
---
Trying to catch up with emails, snail mails, parts orders, and
everything else around the shop isn't being helped lately. You may
remember that my wife decided I needed someone to keep my company
during work hours, so she brought in Shop Kat. Turns out that SK is
a girl, which we learned when she finally grew up enough to go into
heat. When that happened I decided to take her in for a little
surgical modification, but as it happens that can't be done until
she's out of heat. I thought that if I kept a close eye on her
during her infrequent and short outings during that time things
would be under control, as I'd seen no stray cats in the
neighborhood. You can guess what happened next.
I now have a pile (seven, to be precise) balls of fur who are about
six weeks old. They're constantly underfoot, seem to think
everything exists for their own amusement, and are generally making
the shop difficult to work in. I wear an apron while I work and
they seem particularly amused by the parts of it that they can
reach. Anyone want a free kitten (or two?)
---
I've got a couple of interesting articles by Ed Harris which I'm
going to run on coming Fridays in place of the Friday Surprise.
Ed's got some great stuff and addresses areas of the shooting world
that aren't in my normal purview. I think you'll find them
interesting.
---
In the next month I'll be working on my teaching schedule for 2012.
If you'd like to book a class now's the time to start the
process!
Of course I'll be teaching my flagship Revolver Doctrine course; if
you liked my book, you'll love this class! I take you through the
revolver, showing you how to shoot it, reload it, manipulate it
with one hand, and more. It's a one-day class that can be held on
nearly any range, and doesn't require drawing from a holster. It's
a great introduction for anyone who is new to the revolver,
regardless of their past shooting experience.
I'm also available to teachCombat Focus Shootingclasses, both one- and
two-day. CFS teaches you the most efficient ways to defeat a
threat, ways that work with what your body does naturally. CFS
classes are open to revolvers and autoloaders (much as I hate to
admit it, I do know how to run an auto. Let's just keep that
between the two of us, OK?)
A great combination is what I call the Defensive Revolver Weekend,
which combines Revolver Doctrine on the first day and Combat Focus
Shooting on the second. RD teaches you how tooperatethe revolver, while CFS
teaches youhow to use itto protect you or those you
love. This is a great way to take these classes, as there is some
overlap which is eliminated when they're back-to-back. The result
is that we get in more material than we would if the classes were
separated.(This combined version
of Revolver Doctrine does require drawing from a
holster.)
I’m available for classes all over the western U.S. How do
you go about booking a class? It's easier than you might think, and
you can train for free just by hosting at your local range! Email
me for the details.
---
Looking even further ahead, I'm considering teaching a master class
on Colt revolver gunsmithing. This wouldn't happen until at least
2013, but I'd like to throw out some feelers now to see if anyone
might be interested. If so, drop me a note; if I have enough
interest, I'll develop the course tailored to your interests.
---
Well, I think that's enough for one Monday. I'm going to return
some emails then go do battle with some very intimidating
kittens!
Yesterday Apple announced a new iPhone, and with it an advanced
software to add voice control to that phone. (“Siri”?
Who names these things?)
Almost immediately the blogs and tech sites were abuzz with
inevitable comparisons to the competition, complete with tables
breaking down the products feature by feature.
I found it amusing that they all had one line that said 'voice
control', with a simple "YES" or checkmark on each product. Some of
the more adventurous would take pains to point out that the
competition had 'voice control' for some time, and Apple was just
catching up. What they failed to take into account was the relative
sophistication and integration of the feature on all the products;
love 'em or hate 'em, Apple's new voice assistant goes well beyond
the simple "call Bill at work" kinds of control that phones have
had for years. The software anticipates and evaluates natural
language requests in a way that hasn't yet been done on a consumer
device, and interacts with the phone's functions in a wider way
than we're accustomed to.
(My best friend was the founder of a software company which did
pioneering work in the field of computer control via voice
recognition. Even he's impressed with how far Apple was able to
push this technology, and he's about as jaded an expert in that
field as you could ever find. He’s also one of the best
shooting instructors I know, which gives me the perfect segue into
this article’s actual topic!)
My point is not to sell phones - personally, I don't derive my
self-worth from what I buy or what you don't buy - but rather to
point out the folly of making bullet point comparisons. If you just
looked at the bullet point of voice control and saw the checkmark,
you wouldn't come away understanding the vastly different ways in
which that feature has been implemented.
This goes well beyond phones, as lots of people do the same thing
when they take defensive shooting classes. I call them "checklist
students" - people who make decisions as to what school or class
they'll attend by looking over a list of topics being covered. I've
actually talked to people who have chosen one class over another
because of the number of topics covered, without understanding the
depth of the instruction or the unique approach of the
instructor.
I've also seen students request refunds from instructors when the
simple number of things they learned wasn't the same as in other
classes they've attended, even though the student made no effort to
understand or become competent in those things that were taught.
The checklist is in control, not their desire to learn nor their
appreciation of their own skill development.
There are instructors out there who will throw a million different
topics into a class and give the students perhaps a couple of
minutes with each, then dash on to the next item on the agenda.
There are other instructors who cover a fraction of those topics
but cover them thoroughly, giving students time and opportunity to
really start to develop some proficiency. Unfortunately, the former
tend to be the more successful - checklists, it would seem, sell
classes as well as phones, cameras, cars, and just about everything
else.
If you buy a phone via a checklist, the worst that happens is that
you don't have the functionality of another phone. You can always
get another. When it comes to your skill development, particularly
the ability to successfully defend your own life, the stakes are a
little higher. Make your training decisions based not on an
ambitious list of topics, but on an understanding of what, how and
why your instructor does what he/she does.
Leave the checklists to those who would rather brag than
learn.
Something I've noticed in the last year or so: as I've incorporated
the concepts of reality-based training (RBT) in my teaching and
practice, my point of view has changed. I'm not really aware of it
until I'm around people who haven't had that exposure, and then the
contrast becomes stark.
The realities of how attacks actually occur and our reactions
(instinctive and intuitive) affect not onlyhowandwhatwe train, but what we
trainwith. My upcoming article over
at the Personal Defense Network examines this idea with regard to
the seemingly banal process of holster choice, and this weekend it
cropped up during an informal gun test in which I
participated.
I was assisting with a rifle class and one of the other instructors
brought in one of the new uber-compact 9mm pistols that are all the
rage. We all got a chance to shoot the thing, and the results were
telling.
Most people's approach to testing a new gun is to get set into a
'proper' range-based stance, carefully line up the sights, and make
a slow, smooth shot; repeat until the magazine is empty, and
declare it a wonderful gun. Everyone at this range did that, and I
used to do that too, but lately I've been testing guns under the
conditions I expect to use them, conditions that are congruent with
the gun's purpose.
For a defensive gun that means shooting as if I'm being
attacked.
I'd already played with the thing, so I was familiar with how it
worked and how the trigger broke. In terms of the gun's operation
there were no surprises. I chambered a round and, from the high
compressed ready position, extended and pressed the trigger
repeatedly and rapidly. I shot at a pace that was consistent with
how I shoot an Airweight 'J' frame, which frequent and realistic
practice has taught me would deliver the balance of speed and
precision needed to put rounds on the target (the ring in an IDPA
silhouette) at the distance I was standing (about 5 yards.)
The results were awful. This particular gun is so slim and flat
that the grip panels do not appreciably contact the palm of the
hand, and the only points of real contact - the front and
backstraps - were polished and finished in a smooth gloss. The
result was an alarming lack of control when shooting at a realistic
pace. My first three shots landed in the target area, but the final
three drifted far to the right as the gun rotated against the
pressure of my hands.
I inserted a second magazine and consciously tried to counter the
torque of the little monster. The results were a little better, but
the extreme amount of physical force I applied to the gun brought
my group down and to the left. As long as the gun was shot
sedately, like on a nice friendly target range, it performed.
Pushed into a more realistic shooting circumstance, it simply
failed because of design flaws - the people who built it didn't
understand the context in which the gun would likely be used. They
built a miniature target pistol, but they’re selling it as a
fighting tool.
Are there some people who might be able to make it work under
realistic conditions? Perhaps, but no one else that day even tried;
the closest anyone got was to do a sequence of
double-taps/controlled pairs (a shooting method which illustrates
that a gun can't actually be controlled for a realistic string of
fire) and the results weren't a whole lot better. Would more
practice - familiarity - with the gun improve my results?
Experience suggests this is unlikely, as the first couple of
magazines/cylinders out of a new-to-me gun are almost always my
best.
I’ve covered this before, and it bears repeating: any
shooting you do has to be in context. Are you practicing for an
IDPA match, or are you practicing for the time when you're
surprised and in true fear of your life?
What I see when I watch videos of actual shootings isn't the
carefully measured
BANG.....BANG.....BANG.....BANG.....BANG.....BANG of the target
range, and It usually isn’t the contrived
BANGBANG.....BANGBANG.....BANGBANG of the shooting match. What I
see consistently, when people are surprised and in true fear for
their life, is BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG. That's because the human
in full reactive survival mode wants the threat gone as quickly as
possible, and knows that the only thing which will do that is
rounds on target.
Whether or not he/she can control the gun in those circumstances is
the variable, which is why I insist on training in context so that
I know I can do so.
When training isn't congruent with the realities of the fight, or
if the equipment doesn't work well in that context, the needed hits
won't be there. We call that 'inefficient' - using more of our own
resources (time, energy, ammunition, space) than necessary to
achieve the goal (making the bad guy go away.)
Ironically, in these very small guns a lesser cartridge, like the
lowly and maligned .380ACP, may actually be the better choice if it
allows the defender to shoot with a balance of speed and precision
that achieves the necessary efficiency.
The only way one can know for sure is to practice and test
realistically. On this day, I did and it greatly affected my
opinion of the hardware. If it weren't for the understanding of
context in training, today I'd be telling you what a great little
gun it is.
Over a year ago I read a review of a training course on one of the
gun forums. It's been long enough that I don't remember what the
course was, or who the instructor may have been, so I don't think I
have any dog in the fight. Besides, it's not the particulars that
matter in this story; it's the student's attitude that I find most
intriguing.
The person in question had taken a weekend course at some gun
school and was very critical of the instruction received. As I
recall, it wasn't the material itself about which he was
complaining - it was the instructor's attitude. The writer was
upset because the instructor had insisted that his students perform
the drills as he taught them, rather than as they were used to
doing. According to the reviewer, the instructor took a "my way or
the highway" approach to the material being taught. This,
apparently, was a Bad Thing.
My thought was (and still is) that this illustrated not a poor
instructor, but a poor student.
Why does one take a course? To learn a new skill, I should think.
If all a student wants is validation of what they've already been
taught, then he or she should simply repeat the courses already
attended. Taking a new course will naturally expose the student to
new material, and doggedly resisting that exposure is counter
productive for both the individual and the other students.
If one is going to learn a new skill one must first be exposed to
it and then take the time to practice. If someone goes to a class
and decides immediately that they don't want to do that, what's the
reason for being there in the first place? If you take a class, you
do it the teacher's way - that is, after all, the whole point of
the event, is it not?
Ultimately the student - not the instructor - is responsible for
his or her own competence. The instructor's job is to present
material competently, logically, clearly, and factually, but it's
up to the student to take advantage of what is being provided. An
instructor who insists that, while in the class, the student
practice only what has been taught isn't arrogant. (As long as the
material has been clearly presented and the students have been
given an opportunity to seek intellectual clarity and comfort with
that material, of course.) An unyielding commitment to structure
provides the proper environment for the student to become competent
if he/she so chooses.
Whether or not one "likes" new material is irrelevant, as we've all
had the experience of disliking someone or something until we got
to know them/it better. Part of the process is habituation, which
only occurs with repeated exposure. If the instructor doesn't
insist on that exposure, letting the students do it their own way,
how are they going to really know if it's for them? What other
frame of reference can one use to make any sort of a
judgement?
Note that I’m not considering the quality or applicability of
the material in this argument. If the student deems the techniques
or processes are silly or illogical or superfluous relative to his
needs, he is always free jettison themafterclass has ended. During the
class, though, they need to be done the way the instructor is
teaching them - and he should insist on it.
(I am not addressing the very real instances where a physical issue
prevents the student from doing something the way it’s been
taught. That’s a separate issue, and the instructor should be
willing and able to accommodate the student’s
limitations.)
"My way or the highway", to me, is simply an instructor's
insistence that a student pay attention and get in enough reps to
at least start on becoming competent. I think a student should look
for that attitude in a trainer, not complain about it!
Sadly, I’ve seen it before: tactical 'expert' pronounces that
if you don't use his pet technique, "you're going to get hit". A
variation: "well, if you don't want to take a bullet you'd better
do this."
Whether or not I agree with the technique being presented, I hate
that method of getting a point across because everyone knows (or
should know) it's nonsense.
Take, for instance, moving off the vector of an attack (which some
refer to as "get off the X") while at the same time shooting at the
threat. This has been raised to a religion in some schools, and one
such congregant recently defended the idea by saying "people who
stand still get shot."
Really?
If that's true, then there should be a whole lot of people around
(whether alive or deceased) who can be used as examples. Humans
have been defending themselves with firearms for more than a
century, and the huge overwhelming majority of those people had no
formal training before doing so. Since they were likely not trained
to move, how did they manage to survive not getting hit? The fact
that they generally did leads us to question the logic behind the
statement.
I'm sure that with enough digging you could find one or two, but
this fellow's absolutist statement would require that there be a
whole lot of those folks - and I think even a little searching will
show that there aren't.
This is the case with so much defensive training: when there really
isn't logic or fact behind what's being taught, instructors will
sometimes fall back on hyperbole to prevent the student from asking
the hard questions. There may in fact be a benefit to a certain
technique, but the benefit is less than the cost; there may, in
fact, be zero benefit. It's up to the student to recognize when
hyperbole is being used to mask a deficiency, and respectfully ask
for a logical explanation of what's being taught.
Do I believe there is a benefit to moving offline during an attack?
Yes. Do I believe that it isalwaysa good idea to continue that
movement while I shoot back? No, and I think that I do a pretty
good job of explaining “why” to my students without
insulting their intelligence or trying to scare them into
compliance. There is a cost/benefit ratio with any defensive move,
and I think it’s a disservice not to communicate that to a
student.
Reason. Fact. Ask for them by name. Politely, of course!
On Monday I commented about a video from an outfit called American
Defense Enterprises (ADE.) In it, a group of black-clad aspirants
show us what they can do with guns. It was apparently so
embarrassing that ADE actually pulled it from YouTube, butluckily someone
managed to snag a copy and put it back up(and with a far
more appropriate soundtrack!)
The whole video looks like a Hollywood caricature of firearms use;
the word that kept popping into my head was 'choreography'.
Hmmm....sure enough, ADE is headquartered on Wilshire Blvd in Los
Angeles. That would go a long way to explaining why the video looks
more like a video gamer's wet dream than realistic defensive
shooting.
You really need to watch the video, as it illustrates some vital
principles about how you should NOT train. How plausible are the
scenarios they're setting up? Look at the safety aspect of some of
their drills - is there a benefit that outweighs the not
inconsiderable risks? My answers would be ‘not very’
and ‘no’.
I'll go out on a limb here: it's damn near impossible to produce an
exciting video clip of quality defensive shooting instruction,
because at its core it is boring. Learning to shoot efficiently
doesn't lend itself to flashy room clearing footage, and how one
deals with a real threat doesn't look anything like an exciting
team assault. Defensive shooting is as much about concepts and
processes as it is techniques, and when was the last time you saw a
blood-pumping video of a concept?
If you want to see good defensive shooting videos, you can find
them at thePersonal
Defense Network. If you want entertainment,
watch the video under discussion.
There is a certain segment of the training community that makes
quite a fuss about teaching techniques randomly collected from SWAT
teams, Special Forces (ours or someone else's), or SEAL Team Six.
(It's always Team Six, because they're apparently the coolest. And
the only one which the average Mall Ninja recognizes. Good for
marketing, you understand. I feel for the guys on Teams One through
Five though, suffering with the knowledge that they're not nearly
as cool.) These classes are usually sold to the public as being
"full strength" or "not watered down for civilians" or some such
twaddle.
I have two concerns with such courses. First is the applicability
to prIvate sector self defense and the resulting drain on our
training resources. Many of these techniques, such as shooting
while running toward a threat, are offensive in nature and require
either attaining initiative or being part a large enough group to
be able establish and maintain sectors of fire. No matter how
convoluted the logic (and I've heard some twisted justifications),
this doesn't have much to do with the kinds of self defense
incidents that you and I are likely to face. They are a lot of fun,
I'll concede that point, but we need to keep in mind that we all
have limited training resources (time and money.) If one spends
precious training resources doing things that aren't at all
applicable to the task at hand, it means that something which is
really needed won't get trained.
The second issue I have is that of safety. For any drill or any
technique, the benefit of the activity needs to greatly outweigh
the perceived risk. Perception, I need to emphasize, is relative.
What is risky to a real-deal SEAL is very different than what is to
you or me! A SEAL puts himself in extreme risk on every active
mission, and as a result his training is correspondingly riskier.
That doesn't mean that they take foolhardy chances, but it does
mean that the nature of their job requires them to practice things
that are far more dangerous than what you or I need to practice. A
drill that would seem boringly safe to them may in fact expose us
to an unnecessary -- and correspondingly unacceptable -- level of
risk. A downrange drill (one where students are downrange of other
students shooting), for instance, has some value to those guys
whose job it is to kill people and break stuff; in my
never-to-be-humble assessment, it has near-zero value to those of
us who face criminal threats here at home.
Getting hurt in a training drill that has no plausible application
to the average citizen's life is a double fail. How to avoid it? Be
discerning in your training. I realize the overwhelming desire to
relate one's reality-show-like adventures to the guys in the office
on Monday morning, but being practical will make you better
prepared. It will also ensure that you leave the class sporting the
same number of orifices with which you arrived.
I saw one again the other day: an after-action review of a "snubby"
shooting class. I think I'm missing the boat.
A snubnose revolver is fundamentally no different in operation than
a non-snubnose revolver. It will have increased recoil, a shorter
sight radius, and generally be a little harder to efficiently
reload than a larger wheelgun, but that isn't sufficient difference
to drop them into their own special class. Apparently some
disagree, because the snubby classes are a rapidly growing subset
of the training business.
This tailoring of classes to fit a specific demographic is all the
rage these days. Actually, that sentence is a little generous; it's
more the tailoring of the title of the class to fit a specific
demographic. My general rule of thumb is that a class whose
enrollment focuses on a factor external to the skills being taught
is probably more marketing than anything else.
That having been said, I might someday decide to compromise my
beliefs and promote a snubnose class of my own. Should that happen,
I promise to feel slightly guilty on my way to the bank.
I spent this weekend up at theFirearms Academy of
SeattleteachingCombat Focus
ShootingwithRob
Pincus. This was the last leg in
Rob's cross-country spring training tour, and a chance for me to
see how he's pushed the state-of-the art forward in the year since
we last taught together.
I've said that all instructors should jump at the chance to teach
with (or at least observe without the distraction of being a
student) a better instructor than themselves. It's especially
useful to pick an instructor whose style -- and even material, in
some cases -- is very different from one's own. It gives a fresh
perspective and reveals the blind spots that we all develop over
time.
This weekend was no exception. I came away with a whole bunch of
new ideas that I hope to incorporate in my own work.
We had a good group of students, including one who had just
recently bought his first gun. I always get a thrill out of
watching someone go from zero to doing pretty complex tasks in just
a couple of days, and this fellow really gave it his all. Two of
the students were experienced instructors themselves and found that
their first exposure to the advanced CFS exercises was as
challenging to them as it was to everyone else.
Because the students were at various stages of ability, some came
with bad habits from prior training. They weren't bad in the sense
of being unsafe or dangerous but rather in the sense of not being
appropriate to the task of surviving the sudden, chaotic events on
which CFS focuses. We were able to have a good conversation about
this important idea of context: that skills need to be judged in
relation to the goal (efficiently making the bad guy go away after
he's surprised you), and not to some separate and arbitrary
measurement.
Marty and Gila Hayes, who run the Academy, are great hosts who
bring in programs like Combat Focus Shooting in order to give their
students a well-rounded view of the defensive firearms world. Even
though CFS doctrine doesn't always agree with theirs, they know
that perspective is important in this field. There are very few --
if any -- schools who are confident enough in the quality of their
own programs to expose their students to new ideas. That's why FAS
has evolved and stayed fresh over the years where other schools
have become insular and hidebound.
Now if you'll excuse me I need to treat a badly sunburned elbow;
apparently I missed a spot when applying the sunscreen!
Stan Kenton was a standout iconoclast in a field of music that is,
by definition, iconoclastic. Some of his albums were a difficult
experience because they demanded so much of the listener. If one is
not conversant with at least a little music theory, much of what
goes on flies right over the head.
I remember reading, somewhere in the intertubes, a critical review
of a Kenton album from just such a person. The writer opined that
Kenton's music just couldn't be any good, because none of his
personnel had successful solo careers.
Aside from the sheer ignorance of that comment, it struck me that
this person suffered a common logic fault: looking for some sort of
validation of worth or quality based on an external factor. This
fellow wasn't capable of assessing the music as it stood, but
instead looked to a unrelated metric to back up his opinion (a
metric that was't even correct!)
This happens frequently in all fields, to include that of shooting
(specifically defensive shooting.) Rather than consider the logic
of a technique or concept, many will evaluate what's presented to
them on the basis of who else has adopted that same point of view.
I've seen the question asked in all kinds of courses with all kinds
of instructors: "what police agency/military branch/well known
school teaches that?" A declarative version of the question is
"so-and-so teaches something else, and he was a Navy Seal/in Desert
Storm/on a SWAT team."
If one doesn't understand the material being presented, either due
to not putting forth the effort to do so or because the instructor
isn't taking the time to explain things, then one is left to rely
on an external 'authority' to make decisions. If the context in
which the authority evaluates something is different from the
student's, it may not be relevant. It may not even be
workable.
If you don't understand what you're being taught, and why, the
burden is on you to ask questions. Respectfully, of course, but you
still need to ask and get intellectual clarity on the subject. If
your instructor himself uses the appeal to authority, justifying
what he's teaching by telling you about the large police agency or
secret military organization or champion shooter that uses it,
that's not the answer you need.
When it comes to protecting your life, techniques and concepts need
merit -- not endorsement.
A few weeks back I saw a picture of a defensive shooting instructor
which bothered me. I couldn't put my finger on why, but something
about it gnawed at my subconscious. I know the fellow only by what
he's written (and by his association with a much better-known
trainer), so it isn't anything that would stem from a personality
conflict, and yet the feeling remained.
It finally hit me the other day. In the picture this fellow is
wearing what is apparently his 'normal' complement of two
autoloading pistols, both carried appendix style: one for the
strong hand, one for the weak hand. Of course he had the requisite
spare magazines and folding knife clipped in a pocket.
What's wrong with that? It's a free country and people should be
allowed to carry whatever they want on their person. I agree
wholeheartedly. The problem I have is role modeling, and it's one
that I've become increasingly concerned with over the past few
years.
Many instructors (and I'd say all of those with any reputation), to
include yours truly, live the instructor lifestyle: we spend a lot
of time around guns and shooting ranges. What we wear, what we can
get away with wearing, is not what most of the people reading this
blog can wear on a daily basis.
When you live on a shooting range you get to dress casually as a
matter of course. Oh, there is the occasional donning of more
'dressy' apparel for an event, but such things are few and far
between (and the 'gunny' is usually cut some slack for having a
suit that is not of the highest quality nor properly fitted.)
Contrast this with what most people wear to their jobs everyday. I
don't know many who can get away with wearing the untucked polo
shirts that are all the rage amongst the appendix-carry crowd, let
alone the IDPA vests and other accoutrement that a lot of folks in
this industry wear on a constant basis.
In my own family there is a hospital administrator, a media anchor,
and a speech pathologist -- none of whom can adopt the kind of
weaponry and the style of carry that the majority of trainers
espouse. My nephew could possibly get away with wearing an
unbuttoned tropical shirt over a colorful t-shirt, but only because
he works for a company famous for producing such tropical shirts.
The rest of my family? Not a chance. My wife’s family? No. My
huge extended family (over 30 first cousins on my mother’s
side alone)? Less than a handful could. My neighbors? Not in their
jobs. In fact, almost no one I know outside of the shooting
industry could; their lifestyles, jobs, or environments just
won’t permit it.
This is important because students tend to emulate their teachers,
adopting not just their techniques but also their weapons and
dress. The problem comes when they spend their weekends training
with what I call 'guru gear' (I ought to trademark that) but switch
to their actual daily carry equipment at the beginning of their
week.
Training with ultra-fast appendix carry of a high-capacity
autoloader on the weekend, but defaulting to a 'J'-frame in a
pocket holster during the week, is not training in context: in the
manner in which something will be used. Training courses are too
often set up to reward the use of specific equipment, which gives
the student a false sense of their abilities with the equipment
they usually tote.
Walking around a range and showing students the kind of gear they
can't carry, in a manner that they can't in their workday lives,
isn't encouraging them to train in context. Doing so tends to
influence them, through aspirational psychology, to train with gear
that is different than what they'll actually be relying on come
Monday morning.
I'm not sure that's terribly responsible, and it’s why the
picture -- which could be of most instructors -- bothers me.
Over at the Personal Defense Network,they've put up a profile of yours
truly. Based on an interview I
did recently, it covers my views on teaching and the state of the
training business. Hope you enjoy it!
The limitations of the equipment that we discussed in theprevious
installmentaren't the only things that
affect the utility of force-on-force training. The way that drills
and scenarios are approached is important as well.
I'll use two terms to describe broad categories of FOF training.
Drills are man-against-man tests of mechanical or physical skills:
drawing the gun, moving off the vector of the attack, and so on.
Scenarios, on the other hand, test decision making and information
gathering skills. They may also include a physical/mechanical
component, but their primary purpose is to test judgment.
At the top of the list, as it always should be, is safety. FOF
training demands a sterile, segregated environment. Any course that
doesn't enforce both should be avoided at any cost. The risk of
accident is too high to trust anything other than a rigorous, and
rigidly enforced, exclusion zone for live weapons. That means all
weapons: firearms, knives, chemical and electrical weapons. The
only weapons allowed inside the FOF training area should be
simulated - and that goes for the instructors, too! If you
encounter a FOF course where the students are required to disarm
but the instructor(s) aren't, that's your cue to leave.
Vociferously, I would add.
As I mentioned last time, a drill or scenario which continues past
the first shot is suspect. As I’ve pointed out, the lack of
ballistic effect on both ends of the muzzle means that multiple
shots from a simulated handgun have little to no value. If the
scenario or drill is set up so that the gun serves as a marker, a
device to signal force has been used and how successfully placed
that force might be, then there is no need for more than one shot.
If, on the other hand, it is set up so that some predetermined
number of shots have been fired or - worse yet - unlimited shots
are allowed, then its value as a teaching tool must be questioned.
Remember that any simulated munition has value only in that it
provides first round accountability; after that, it's just
recreation.
It’s common to see FOF drills that attempt to teach something
which is affected by a student's foreknowledge. For instance, a
student knows that he's in a FOF class, he's got a loaded sim gun
in his holster, and he knows that the drill is testing his reaction
time or ability to do a specific task. His anticipation of the need
to shoot is sky high. If the technique works, all it shows is that
the student could do it when he had advance warning of the event.
Would it work if he wasn't already primed for action? The trouble
is that this can't be tested in FOF, because there will always be
that anticipation. FOF drills must be carefully selected so that
the skill being developed or tested isn't negatively affected by
that anticipation. They also can't be used to justify training that
benefits from anticipation, a fault I see all too often.
I've seen FOF courses that employ students as both
attackers/antagonists and defenders/protagonists. With the possible
exception of what might be akin to a martial arts flow drill, where
the same pattern is repeated multiple times to build familiarity, I
don't see the point in letting students fight things out. The
antagonist in a FOF drill or scenario is the agent by which the
protagonist, the student, learns whatever lesson is being
considered. I don't see where the learning occurs if both parties
are ignorant of the lesson.
Allowing two students to go at each other, no matter how well
coached, seems to invariably devolve to the the equivalent of a
dodge ball game. This is exacerbated by the lack of ballistic
effect which we discussed last time. Students as counterparts
works; students as teachers, I'm not at all sure of.
Scenarios that test decision making are a natural use of FOF. Here,
too, care must be taken to ensure that there is actual instruction.
One flaw I see is that scenarios are designed with arbitrary
outcomes, and the student spends his or her time not evaluating the
environment for what it actually is but rather for what the
instructor wants it to be. In other words, the scenario becomes a
puzzle where the student is figuring out the instructor, not the
situation. This is very common in 'tactical' shooting matches, and
is part of the reason that even the best stage design isn't all
that realistic. The scenario has to be designed so that the
situation, the interactions, and the conclusion are all
plausible.
That's easier said than done! It is very difficult for a scenario
designer to avoid bringing his or her idiosyncratic biases into the
design. Scenarios shouldn't be puzzles and shouldn't be difficult
to figure out, but it seems that many people are intent on making
them so. If the student is forced to examine vague and misleading
clues in order to arrive at the 'correct' solution, how does that
in any manner relate to a plausible real life interaction? It
doesn't, and that's the point.
At the same time, the people playing the antagonists in scenarios
have to be good actors. A thug on the street behaves in ways that
we all recognize (or should recognize), and the person playing a
thug needs to be able to replicate that behavior. If he/she can't,
then the protagonist is back to figuring out the puzzle rather than
reacting to a real stimulus. The actors must be well practiced and
disciplined - again, another strike against students being used in
such roles. (Heck, it may even be a big strike against many
instructors. I know how a crackhead acts, but I also know I’m
not a good enough actor to recreate one realistically enough to
teach a student what such an interaction is like!)
This is true even in drills. The antagonist already knows what the
student is going to do, or at least has a very good idea. That
foreknowledge allows him to act and react in ways that a real
attacker couldn't or wouldn't. This skews the results of the
lesson, and requires that the instructor both take the role and be
able to play it as 'straight' as possible.
It sounds like I'm not a fan of FOF. That's probably true on some
level, because I don't think it has the wide application that so
many think it does. I think that it has some use in very specific
circumstances, but not as a general teaching tool. Its utility is
probably in well thought out scenario training, and less so -
perhaps much less - in simple mechanical drills. To be valuable it
has to be carefully conceived and implemented, something that
doesn't seem to happen all that often. It's not the ultimate test
of defensive preparation, as some contend, but properly and
sparingly used it can be valuable.
Force-on-force ('FOF') training has become all the rage in the last
couple of years, with some instructors making it a hallmark of
their courses. Everyone, it seems, is buying Airsoft pistols and
touting their FOF credentials. Supporters of the concept have done
a very good sales job, as I routinely am asked if my courses have a
force-on-force component.
Such questions remind me so much of my college days working in a
camera store. People would walk in, look at a lens, and proceed to
ask how many elements it contained. That's a useless bit of
information to anyone other than an optical engineer, but these
folks had been told by someone, somewhere that it was an important
question to ask. They didn't understand the question, and certainly
didn't know how to interpret the answer, but by golly they were
going to ask anyway!
I've played with FOF a bit (yes, I bought the requisite gas-powered
Glock lookalikes.) Understand that I don't claim to be guru at FOF,
nor am I a super-tactical-high-speed-low-drag-tier-one-operator
kind of guy. I am, however, fairly intelligent, reasonably well
informed, and possess an inexorably analytical mind. I can
truthfully claim to be a good diagnostician - figuring out how
things work and, more importantly, why they don't. I also don't
believe everything I'm told, no matter how well sold it may
be.
What I see too often with regard to FOF promotion is a certain lack
of critical thinking about the concepts, and it starts with the
equipment used. FOF naturally is limited to the ability of the
equipment, so it's important to know what the gear does and does
not do.
Whether AIrsoft or simulated munition, FOF guns all do one thing:
to the extent that they mimic a gun you actually own, they give you
first shot accountability. That's it. Read that again, because it's
important to the discussion. This is all they do!
When you discharge an Airsoft in a drill or scenario, where the
first round hits will probably be pretty close to where it would
have hit had you used a real gun (within the range limitations of
the pellet, of course.) In other words, if you used a simulated
Glock 19 and you regularly carry a Glock 19, you can be reasonably
sure that the first simulated round would be representative of a
real round.
Understand that this is only true if the guns match. If you use the
Glock Airsoft in FOF training, but actually carry a Beretta 92, the
value of that first round has been diminished. You don't know for
certain that you would have shot your Beretta just like you shot
the Glock simulant.
Beyond the first round, the predictive value drops to near zero.
This is because of a lack of ballistic effect, from the standpoint
of both the shooter and the shootee. Simulated rounds don't have
the recoil and muzzle rise of a real gun, so each additional shot
can be made much faster, with greater precision, than can real
rounds; the shooter's balance of speed and precision is skewed. If
the technique you're learning in FOF only works when you can
discharge 10 rounds in under a second, how valid will that be when
you're using a real gun with which you can't?
Just because a person can land multiple, fast shots with an Airsoft
does not mean that he'll be able to do so with a real gun. At the
very least, he'll shoot a real gun slower and with greater
deviation than a simulated gun. Any conclusions drawn from the
second, third, fifth, or ninth shot with Airsoft or Code Eagle has
virtually no predictive quality with regard to a real gun with real
ammunition.
The first time I picked up an Airsoft and started doing drills this
became clear. As I was going through the exercises I thought "I'm
kicking butt!" I quite literally put down the Airsoft, picked up a
real Glock, and tried the same thing on the same target. Surprise!
I couldn't shoot nearly as fast, with nearly the deviation control,
that I could with the Airsoft gun. What, then, was the value of
those extra simulated shots from the standpoint of the physical
shooting skill?
The lack of ballistic effect is important on the other end as well.
The pellets - be they Airsoft or paint capsules - don't stop
people. There is no effect on the target other than a small sting
(if that), and there is no cumulative damage. This means that where
a real bad guy might start slowing down with the first shot and
might be on the ground with the third, the simulated opponent can
continue full speed, full power charges through the tenth, twelfth,
or fifteenth round. The rejoinder, of course, is that one never
knows how many rounds it will take to stop an attacker (true), so
one should keep shooting until the threat goes away.
This also is true, but we have to go back and reconsider the
lessons from the preceding paragraphs: you can't shoot a real gun
that way, and the target won't react that way, so where's the
learning happening? It's a vicious circle: with simulated guns, the
more rounds you fire in an attempt to be 'realistic' the less
'realistic' the exercise becomes.
This is the basis for my belief that, in most cases, force-on-force
drills which continue beyond the first shot are probably not of
great value. They may be fun, may be exciting, but one has to
critically examine whether they're really teaching us anything that
is relevant to an actual encounter.
Next time we'll look at the structure of FOF drills and scenarios,
and some of the issues they raise.
Winchester's
top sellers:The Firearm Blog reportsthat Winchester recently
released their top five (even though there are six listed!) pistol
cartridges. The 9mm is not surprisingly in first place, and that
favorite of law enforcement, the .40 S&W, is justifiably in the
number two slot. Coming into third place is a bit of a dark horse -
the venerable .38 Special.
What's most curious is the .380 ACP in fifth place. According to a
Federal rep I talked with a few years back, the .380 wasn't a big
seller. If I recall the conversation correctly, they only made a
run of that caliber every other year, as they could easily
warehouse enough for the intervening period. I suspect a
combination of many new guns chambered for the round, and the big
buying frenzy that resulted in widespread ammo shortages, conspired
to create a pent-up demand. Once everyone has gotten their box (or
two) of the9mm
Corto, then sales will drop back
down to normal.
A
little problem at Gunsite:According toAZcentral.com, a man was shot in the
abdomenat Gunsite a few days ago.
If you’ve seen pictures of their facility, you’ve seen
the shoothouse with catwalks above which allows observation of the
proceedings. Apparently a man was on the catwalk and silhouetted by
overhead lights; the student saw his outline and shot it. Luckily
the man survived the incident and is recovering.
Gunsite says that students are instructed not to shoot toward the
catwalk, but the excitement of playing searchg-and-destroy games
often leads to instructions being forgotten. If you have a facility
in which you've hidden shoot targets, then challenged someone to
find and engage those targets (especially under any artificial time
constraints), such forgetfulness should not come as a total
shock.
Yes, the guy who pulled the trigger is responsible for his
rounds,and I am in no way
excusing his behavior.However, it's the
instructor's job to ensure that the benefit of any training
outweighs the risks. I'm not sure what the benefit of having a live
observer perched on a catwalk in view of the shooter is, but
setting up a bank of monitors and some cameras with 2-way audio
capability brings the risk to nearly zero. In this age of cheap,
remote-controlled IP cameras, the practice of having people
suspended above a line of fire is decidedly antiquated.
After last's weeks column on school rivalries, I was reminded of an
email I received some time back. The writer had asked my opinion on
training with a specific instructor. He was concerned because,
though he'd researched the instructor's program and thought it
worthy of attending, something he read in a forum gave him second
thoughts.
He sent me a link to the discussion, and it boiled down to
something like "where's he been? What's he done? Nothing." There
was no consideration of the program itself, or of the instructor's
ability to communicate effectively with students. It boiled down
to, once again, "my Dad can beat up your Dad."
The premise of the discussion was that having a certain number of
years of military/police service was somehow essential to being
able to teach defensive firearms use, and those who didn't possess
such experience were unqualified to approach the subject. That
struck me as illogical, and a quick search provided a proof: the
"what's he done?" guy had once commented on a course given by an
Israeli shooting instructor, calling it - in essence -
nonsense.
If you've made "experience" a litmus test, intellectual honesty
says that you can't cherry-pick the experience to include. In the
case of the Israeli course, it was taught by someone with an
operational background - that is, he's shot at people. Yet that
experience wasn’t sufficient to earn the commenter’s
approval.
Fast forward to the current discussion, and suddenly the instructor
in question didn’t have “experience”, so he too
was disqualified from consideration. So, you not only have to
possess experience, but it has to be the right kind of experience -
experience that doesn’t conflict with what the critic has
already been taught.
Do I find the various incarnations of Israeli shooting instruction
(of which I'm passingly familiar) useful? No. There is precious
little there that has any direct application to private
self-defense in this country. It serves the Israelis well, but for
us it's a curiosity. The point I'm making is that their techniques,
even though borne out of experience, are of no use in our context;
their experiences are theirs, not ours. Their techniques have no
validity relative to our needs, but if your only basis for
comparison is “experience”, you’d have to give
them due consideration.
How much better it would be to base an evaluation of any instructor
or program based not on some arbitrary standard of where someone's
been or what he's done, but rather on objective and rational
analysis: does it make sense; do the techniques reflect reality; is
the curriculum the product of hard data, or simply wishful
thinking; is there more innuendo than fact in what’s being
taught; most importantly, can the personactually teach?
Those are the questions I'd ask long before I'd concern myself with
an idiosyncraticcurriculum
vitae. Remember the Israeli
example: just because someone has "been there and done that"
doesn't mean it's somewhere you'll be going, or something you'll be
doing.
Rivalries among neighboring schools are nothing new. They start in
high school, and continue into college: here in my slice of heaven,
it's the Oregon State University Beavers versus the University of
Oregon Ducks. In Texas, it's the Aggies and the Longhorns. Alumni
from the respective schools can get downright cantankerous when
discussing the "other" team.
So too with shooting schools. Graduates of one school (or, more
commonly, one instructor) hold their alma mater or guru to possess
the "true way" and refuse to even acknowledge that others exist. In
the worst cases, the arguments end up sounding an awful lot like
"my Dad can beat up your Dad".
This came up the other day in a discussion I had withAFGWWWTRA. The term that sparked the
conversation was "disciples", and I think that conveys the thought
quite nicely. Once one has invested time, effort, and money into an
area of interest it's hard to accept that there are other,
competing, interests in the world which might just have validity as
well. The guru becomes infallible, because if he/she isn't the
disciple has wasted time, effort, and money - and who is ever going
to admit to that?
I'm not immune; I went through a mild episode of school spirit some
years back, but since then I've progressed a bit. I'm open to new
ways of thinking and new methods of doing, and my attitude has gone
from "so and so says this and it is immutable" to "show me why."
The litmus test of any technique or opinion is not the logical
fallacy of argument from authority, but rather that it makes sense
given an open and agreed-upon criteria.
In an odd coincidence, I just started reading a book that explains
this behavior, and as it turns out the concepts involved may have
profound implications for self defense. They go well beyond the
guru, school, stance, grip, or anything else, and deal with our
behavior at a surprisingly base level. In other words, discipleship
in and of itself, irrespective of doctrine or dogma, may affect how
one performs in a violent encounter.
MY
WEEKEND:It's not often I get to be a
student these days, but it's important for any instructor to do so
now and again. Last week I got an invitation fromJeff
Varner, one of ICE Training's
certifiedCombat Focusinstructors, to
sit in on his class in Vancouver. Unfortunately I had to cut out a
bit early due to a prior commitment, but I enjoyed the class
nonetheless. Thanks, Jeff, for the invite!
DRAW
FAST, HOLSTER SLOW:Tamalerts us to a ND that
happened at a Todd Green class. In hiscommendable reportingof the incident, Todd
says"Never be in a rush to
holster your pistol. We all know it, we say it, we teach it. Not
all of us do it."So true.
As instructors it's easy for us to forget that reinforcement, and
sometimes enforcement, are necessary parts of our job. Especially
when we're dealing with "advanced" students, we tend to go easy on
the reinforcement of fundamentals for fear that we'll be resented
for belittling their ability or experience. We have to resist that
tendency, and we need to do so consistently. When warranted,
enforcement (up to and including ejection from class) has to
happen.
The only instructor I've ever seen who is absolutely consistent in
this regard is Georges Rahbani (TBRIYNHO.)
Even in his advanced rifle classes, which are invitation only and
have stringent prerequisites, you will hear "safety on" and "finger
in register" (index, if you prefer) commands at the end of a string
of fire. He never wastes an opportunity for reinforcement at any
level of training or ability.
When Georges encounters failures to heed commands or instruction,
he has a way of bringing the point home to the student: he/she has
to publicly deposit a dollar bill into a pot. (The students have a
friendly shoot-off at the end of class to win the pot.) This has a
non-confrontational, yet still very chastening, effect on both the
offending person and the rest of the students; I've seen it work on
countless occasions. I don't know where the idea comes from, but
I'm giving Georges the credit.
THE PROBLEM WITH ELECTRONIC SCALES:I recently sat down to work
up a new .308 load. I turned on my RCBS electronic scale, waited a
couple of minutes, and starting weighing charges. Much to my
surprise, the weight of the charges thrown by my powder measure
increased each time! I'd forgotten that electronic scales need
protracted warmup periods before accuracy and repeatability can be
expected. After a half-hour of warmup, it settled down and gave
correct readings. Word to the wise: keep your mechanical scales
around to double check the electronic ones, or buy a set of check
weights.
"The inexplicable
success of the Taurus Judge still depresses the hell out of me.
Taurus keeps cranking out new versions, each more grotesque,
hideous and nonsensical than the last, and people KEEP BUYING THE
GODDAMN THINGS. Just another sign that our culture is doomed, I
suppose."
(The opinions of the contributor do not necessarily reflect the
views of the Management of this blog. Then again, they just
might.)
In
a previous episode, I talked about doctrine,
dogma, and cliché. One particular subject is very often the source
of instructional dogmatism, and sometimes spills over into cliché:
the shooting stance.
Since we're talking about self defense, let's start with the
conclusion: as I study surveillance films of actual shootings, and
as I play with the concepts of force-on-force training, I'm struck
by the fact that violent encounters rarely involve an identifiable
stance. The players, especially the defender, are shooting from
whatever position in which they happen to find themselves.
If that's the end result, do we even need to worry about stances?
Why do we bother spending the time working on the isoceles,
Chapman, or Weaver stances when we're probably not going to be
using them when reality comes barging into our lives?
Over Thanksgiving I was discussing this with Georges Rahbani("The Best Rifle Instructor You've Never Heard
Of".)For many years his 'Fighting
Rifle' triad has started with basic stances ('platforms', in
rifle-speak) and ended up with shooters using whatever stance they
happened upon in the course of the encounter. He explained that a
basic stance allows the student to do two very important things:
first, to eliminate a variable that keeps them from focusing on the
necessary stuff like trigger control and sight picture. Second, it
helps to develop the level of confidence necessary to be able to
control the shot no matter what. Once those have been achieved, the
notion of a stance can be jettisoned on the way to a better
understanding of a violent encounter.
Some may immediately think of the term 'training wheels', but I
prefer to call the stance a 'scaffold': a temporary device that
allows us to build something. In the case of a defensive shooter,
we're building a skill set. Without the support of the scaffold -
the solid, repeatable stance - it's difficult, if not impossible,
to build those skills. With it, the student can focus on the truly
important things, secure in the knowledge that they are operating
from a stable base.
The problem comes when the instructor doesn't understand the true
nature of the shooting stance. In those cases, the stance becomes
an end unto itself: it drives the instruction, rather than serving
as an instructional tool.
A few years back I had an encounter with an instructor who didn't
understand this. He went to great lengths explaining why his
preferred Weaver stance was the "only stance anyone should ever
need." When queried about physical makeup, gun/hand fit, and other
variables that affect the success or failure of any given stance
with any given student, all he could do was sputter that the Weaver
was "proven" to be superior. His dogma was well on the road to
cliché.
I've met many shooters who were victims of such shortsighted
teachers. More than once have I observed graduates of multiple
shooting classes displaying the necessity of getting into just the
"perfect" stance in order to shoot. Forced out of that comfort
zone, they literally cannot hit the target. Their teachers were so
focused on stance that they forgot about the rest of the act of
shooting. The stance had become a destination, rather than the
journey which it should be.
Roger
Phillips, one of the new breed of
fight-focused instructors, puts it very well:"Situations dictate
strategies, strategies dictate tactics, and tactics dictate
techniques……techniques
should not dictate anything."Yes, you need to
learn a stance that is comfortable and repeatable for you.
Understand, though, that when shooting for your life your favorite
stance is more than likely going to be abandoned for whatever
position the situation allows. Wouldn't it be a good idea to train
for that eventuality?
Use a preferred stance to build your trigger control and sighting
skills; once that's done, learn to shoot from a 'non-stance'. Get
used to being able to deliver combat accurate hits from any angle,
any position, while still or moving. If you've used the basic
stance properly, you'll find that you no longer need it (at least,
for this kind of shooting.)
In my experience, those who teach the martial art of the gun
exhibit several styles of instruction: doctrine, dogma, and
cliché.
'Doctrine' is that core body of concepts/techniques which are (or
should be) taught as a cohesive whole. They are the things for
which an instructor or school becomes known. At their best, those
concepts and techniques reflect reality; they fit together and
support each other. They make sense when thought of as a unit. They
reflect an overriding philosophy of instruction, and should not be
in conflict with that philosophy or each other. Doctrine should be
verifiable, and it should stand scrutiny. It should be open to
question, and be able to answer for itself. Doctrine evolves, it
progresses, as the world around it does.
When doctrine becomes stagnant, or a teacher becomes enamored with
his/her own perceived infallibility, doctrine is replaced with
dogma. Pronouncements are made, not based on reason or experience
or research, but on the strength of the teacher's personality or
reputation. Questions are answered dismissively, in a manner that
reinforces the inferior status of the student. "Best practices" are
replaced by "one true way"; dogma does not evolve, because it is
self-reinforcing. Learning, in the sense of adoption of the dogma,
may happen - but understanding rarely does.
The worst form of instruction occurs when the teacher has neither
doctrine nor dogma. Instead, he relies on cliché: pithy sayings and
one-liners that replace dialogue and reason. The cliché is
delivered in such a manner as to take on a life of its own, as it
has no context. It allows neither questioning nor independent
thought, but rather aims to eliminate both. Its relationship to the
world at large is tenuous at best; it is the perfect embodiment of
the famous quote from Mythbuster's Adam Savage:
Cliché travels far and wide,
because it's easy to remember. People may not understand it, but
they sure can repeat it!
It's rare that an instructor spends all of his time in one style.
He may switch patterns or incorporate elements of another style,
depending on his goal and talent. The doctrinal instructor, for
instance, may use cliché as a memory aid or mnemonic tool to help
his students retain information, while the dogmatic instructor may
use it instead to quash dissent or inquiry that threatens his
authority. Every instructor will have a primary style, though,
reflecting his abilities and grasp of the subject matter.
It's not unusual to find what started as doctrine is presented as
dogma in less capable hands. For instance, an instructor may be a
devotee of a certain school of arms. That school may have the best
doctrinal approach to teaching, but when the student instructor
brings the information back to his students, something is lost in
translation. The instructor may not have understood what he was
being taught, or simply lacks the talent to transmit that
information to others. In either case, he may translate the
doctrine into dogma and present that to his students. Like the
grade-school game of 'telephone', the original intent is
garbled.
That is, unless great care is taken to make sure that the student
instructor truly understands the material, and is held to the same
high standards as the school itself. That's rare in the firearms
field.
Last week I mentioned that I'm not a fan of the Cooper Color Codes
of Awareness. In fact, I think they're downright silly. Why?
Because they serve no purpose, which makes them a distraction from
learning something that might actually be useful.
The Cooper Color Code system was popularized by Jeff Cooper, the
founder of Gunsite. The four Codes are,as Cooper
explained them, "a means of setting
one’s mind into the proper condition when exercising lethal
violence." They describe "a mental state which enables you to take
a difficult psychological step."
Let's start with his explanation: "into the proper condition." Who
is to say what the proper mental condition is when facing a threat
to one's life? Having talked to a few survivors, and having read
the accounts of many more, one's mental state can vary
tremendously: some are angry, some scared, some confused. To
arrogantly proclaim that there is one mental condition with which
to confront an attacker is quite presumptuous, particularly when
all of those I've mentioned (and probably more I've not
encountered) were sufficient to handle each incident.
I submit to you that the "difficult psychological step", which is
the decision/willingness to use lethal force, is made before the
attack occurs. In fact, it's one of the first decisions one makes
when starting into the armed lifestyle. The sequence for most
people looks something like this:
1) You first acknowledge that your life has value to you, and such
value is greater than that of the person attacking you.
2) Because of that, you decide that you are willing to use lethal
force to protect your own life, and the life of your loved
ones.
3) You learn to recognize a threat (stimulus) in such a way that
you have time to defend (respond.)
4) You train to perform the proper defense (response) to the threat
(stimulus.)
Cooper says that the Codes are "a means of setting one’s
mind." This says that they're intended as a guide or a system to
achieve a specific result. This requires that one judge any input
(the stimulus or threat) against the system (the colored
'conditions'), then adopt the indicated response. Who is really
going to do that? "Ooops, I can't go into Condition Red yet,
because the situational parameters aren't all in accordance!"
Silly, no? Silly, yes!
It also assumes that one is in complete control of one's
physiological state. The problem with this line of thinking is that
the response activity isn't digital or discrete. It is a continuous
spectrum, with many things (including adrenal response and
activation of the sympathetic nervous system) completely out of the
individual's control. What happens when one component is in one
condition, and another is at a different one? Nothing, of course,
but a system requires that they must be reconciled - otherwise, of
what use is the system?
The Codes are completely arbitrary combinations and ignore the fact
that fights are idiosyncratic things, as are the responses of the
defenders. The state of mind of the person holding the initiative
(say, as a soldier or a law enforcement officer) is quite different
than that of the person forced into a reactive response to an
attack. Particularly for the latter, the states are quite
irrelevant; the only thing that matters is the appropriate response
to a specific stimulus at a particular time.
The Codes do nothing in the way of guiding those responses. Cooper
himself said that they were not intended to do so, but again: if
they are not a guide, of what use are they? If what he says is
true, why are there specific response recommendations for each
condition - down to whether or not your gun is in its holster? The
system, at least according to the originator's own description, is
self contradicting.
When faced with a threat a human being performs both instinctive
and intuitive actions, the specific combination of which will vary
depending on the situation. To try to constrain a person's
responses to an arbitrary combination (whether one admits to doing
so or not) is the equivalent of forcing everyone to wear size 14
boots regardless of their foot size.
It seems to me that instead of memorizing a bunch of colors, then
obsessing about what color you are "in", it is better to spend your
mental currency on training appropriate stimulus/response
combinations. The Codes sound tacticool as all get-out, but that's
about all they do. They serve no real or actual purpose, and in my
opinion only obfuscate the situation.
Most people go to Gun Skool because they believe it will teach them
"how to be safe." As I opined last time, learning to shoot does not
necessarily make one safe; learning how to identify and avoid
conflict does. These folks are simply asking more of the
institutions than they're able to provide.
As I noted in one of the first installments, the market for firearm
training is quite small relative to the number of gun owners. If a
firearm trainer wants to stay in business, he/she must provide what
the market demands, and the market demands SHOOTING!
In class after class I've seen student evaluations come back with a
consistent complaint: "not enough!" They want more shooting, more
"super ninja warrior secrets", and more talk about 9mm vs. .45ACP.
Gun Skools respond by upping round counts and shoehorning in more
techniques ("we'll show you 53 different ways to perform a tactical
reload!") to satisfy the preoccupation with hardware. This leaves
precious little time for teaching any of the 'soft' skills that
would actually keep the students safe.
Consider this: the typical class is 2 days long, usually over a
weekend. I once roughed out a syllabus for a very basic class in
observational skills, one designed to improve the student's ability
to gather and analyze the information that abounds in the world
around him/her. That's a pretty narrow focus, but even given that -
and a reduced number of skill building activities - it still
wouldn't fit in an 8-hour day. (I'm very big on actually building
skills in class, not just introducing a topic and then dashing off
to another topic.)
Now imagine a Gun Skool offering a self-defense class where the
students spent more than half their weekend working on things that
don't go "bang", are never going to go "bang", and in fact are all
about NOT going "bang". I can confidently guarantee that the
students would complain to high heaven: "I came to shoot, not sit
in a classroom!" A few sessions like that, and the Gun Skool would
be out of business.
Because of the hardware-centric curricula, whatever
proactive/preventive elements that could be covered usually get
reduced to a short and ambiguous lecture about 'awareness'
(remember what I said last time?) and a presentation of the Cooper
Color Codes (which I abhor - but that's another article for another
day.) Again, they are providing what the market demands.
There are also limitations on what they are capable of providing.
Sadly, in my experience, most Gun Skool instructors just aren't
conversant enough with the concept of proaction/prevention to do it
any justice, even if their students would allow them to try.
In order to properly address the issues, an instructor needs to
have familiarity with a wide range of fields related to how the
brain acquires and uses information: neuroscience, psychiatry,
cognitive development, neuropsychology, and emerging fields such as
neural hermeneutics. It requires him/her to know about things like
thin-slicing, pattern matching, mirror neurons, and conscious and
unconscious functions of the brain. That's just for starters.
How many 'gunnies' do you know with that breadth of knowledge, and
how many of THOSE are capable of transferring that knowledge in
usable form to a student? Not many - if any - I'll wager.
It's the chicken and the egg: without a good institution to teach
those topics, there is no place for other instructors to learn them
to teach the next generation of trainers. Instead, they focus on
what they already know: hardware. The result? More classes that
teach people 53 different ways to reload their pistol.
That 'other stuff' is intellectually challenging to study,
difficult to present, and on top of that isn't terribly sexy.
That's a tough sell.
In the last installment we looked at the idea that most people -
due to a lack of training and resulting options - tend to use the
gun as a first line of defense. To those owners the gun is a
talisman, imbued with the ability to keep its bearer safe and sound
simply by its presence. The problem with this line of thinking is
that the gun, being a reactive tool, cannot keep you safe. It can
only help you deal with that which has made you unsafe.
Let's look at the word 'safe'. It means "not exposed to danger or
risk; not likely to be harmed." The implication is clear: to
actually be safe, one must avoid violent incidents in the first
place. That's not what the gun does.
The gun's function is to extract the user from an incident once it
has begun. Massad Ayoob often says that the gun is best thought of
as a "rescue tool", in the same functional league as a fire
extinguisher or first aid kit. Neither of those items prevents
anything, but they do make it possible to survive something. The
gun needs to be approached with the same attitude.
Safety in the personal sense requires layers of protection that are
operational before the gun is ever needed, (hopefully) precluding
the need to even draw the thing. These layers consist of both early
warning (to let you know that something is a potential threat) and
deterrence (prompting the threat to migrate to another, easier,
target.)
It's important that you not think of layers in broad terms; they
are individual things that together are stronger than they are
alone. One layer might be a thorough understanding of criminal
behavior, another could be the manner in which you walk, still
another could be a flashlight to illuminate dark corners or a
motion sensing alarm system. Think "micro", not "macro".
You can't, for instance, say that one of your protective layers is
"awareness." Awareness isn't a thing that you can acquire in an of
itself; it's a state that exists as the sum total of a number of
observational or data-gathering skills, some of which are
instinctive and some of which are intuitive.
Once the proactive/prevention layers have been breached by the
criminal, then - and only then - is it time for the reactive or
rescue layers to be brought into action. By now you should guess
where this is going: most of us spend our training time on the
reactive/rescue skills, because it's a lot more fun than the other
stuff. The result is that the 'soft' skills are often woefully
underdeveloped. The prevention part of the equation is weak,
leaving nothing but the reaction part to pick up the slack.
The result is that no matter how nice and tight the groups are, no
matter how fast the draw, an increase in shooting skill probably
makes one no safer than the person who didn't get that level of
training. The quantity of shooting classes and the number of
certifications and master ratings is really quite irrelevant, if
the gun is being used for relatively low level tasks. Without
security layers interposed between the gun carrier and the
assailant, that's what happens.
(Be very clear: this doesn't address the personal gratification
that one might get from achieving those things, which may be
considerable. We're focusing solely on the safety aspects of
increased shooting skills.)
That's because you generally can't learn the proactive/prevention
stuff at Gun Skool, and next time I'll explain why.
How much training is enough? That depends, of course, on the nature
of the training - but it also depends, perhaps to a greater degree,
on how it's used.
As I hinted last time, an onion gives us a good framework to both
build and evaluate a defensive posture. The onion, as you know, is
composed of many layers; to get to the center requires that one
remove layer after layer. It requires a certain amount of
dedication to do so, because you can't go through Layer #3 without
first getting through Layers 1 & 2.
Ideally, our self defense posture should be similarly layered. To
breach each successive layer should require more skill and
determination from the attacker than the last. The assailant has to
be capable of getting through the layers, and must really want to
do so. The thinnest layers stop the less able criminals, while the
more robust layers serve to thwart those whose skill level is
higher.
As it happens, there are more of the former than the latter. For
instance, there are lots of people who play baseball as a
recreational activity. Go to just about any park and you'll see
lots of local league games. Most of the players are better than the
average guy off the street, but usually not by a lot. A subset of
those might have been good enough to play ball in high school;
fewer still on a college team; maybe, occasionally, you'll
encounter one who managed to make it to a semi-pro club. The
chances of finding a player who ever took the field in the majors
is slim to none - there aren't a lot of those people around. The
lower the skill requirements, the more people participate.
Criminals are like that, too - there are more petty shoplifters
than jewel thieves, because the skill necessary to rip off a DVD
from Target is considerably less than stealing a million-dollar
necklace from Donald Trump's home.
The outer layers of our defensive onion are those things that serve
to discourage the least skilled, and the largest number, of the
criminal fraternity. One of those outer layers might consist of a
well honed ability to unconsciously make visual observation of what
goes on around you, and to predict from scant data an impending
assault. This doesn't seem to come naturally; it is learned.
Because there is virtually no place where it can be learned (short
of a self-directed study regimen), I think most people end up with
observational skills that leave something to be desired.
For them, the gun tends to serve as a replacement. It defaults to
being one of their outer defensive layers because there is no other
outer layer. When it does get pointed at an assailant, it is
probably against the least skilled and least motivated of
attackers, simply because they are the most numerous. (I am not
suggesting that the gun is necessarily used inappropriately, only
that it may end up being used in situations that developed outside
of the defender's base of knowledge.)
This, I think, partly explains why so many people are able to
defend themselves with a gun, even without specialized training. If
the situation is relatively simple, with an adversary who is not
all that motivated, you just don't need to be a Navy Seal to
prevail. As attackers ascend the ladder of skill, motivation, or
numbers, so too must the ability of the defender.
Ironically it's the person with the well developed outer defensive
layers, the one who is least likely to find him or herself in
trouble, who needs firearm training the most. This is because the
gun will be one of their inner layers and only exposed to attackers
with a superior skill set, the inferior having been put off by the
lesser layers.
In other words, the less likely it is that you'll need to use your
gun, the more training you'll need in how to use it - because your
assailants will be more dangerous.
Unfortunately, most people do it backwards. I'll save that can of
worms for next time!
(In this discussion understand that I'm not referring to basic
handling and safety instruction, such as the NRA famously provides.
By training, I mean the defensive or 'tactical' courses provided at
various private facilities: Gunsite, Front Sight, Thunder Ranch,
and all of the smaller and lesser known schools across the
country.)
Getting back to the reason for this missive, I'm intrigued by the
notion that if one possesses a gun, then one must have (with the
emphasis onmust) a certain kind of training
in order to stand a chance of successfully using it in a self
defense role. History would suggest otherwise.
The wide availability of training in the martial art of the firearm
is of relatively recent vintage. Despite practical firearms for
personal carry being available for more than 150 years, it's really
only been in the last 30 that firearms schools oriented toward self
defense have become commonplace. For well over a century, people
apparently got along just fine, thank you, with no tactical
training at all. Perhaps their father or uncle showed them how to
load and unload the gun, and perhaps they got a few pointers on
shooting, but that was it.
Even in this day, with quality instruction more available than
ever, the number of people who take serious firearm training is
still a very small fraction of total gun owners; a niche, if you
will. A huge percentage of the gun owning public apparently doesn't
feel a pressing need to go to Gun Skul, yet they seem to prevail
far more often than not in encounters with criminals.
Why? Because the highest probability of personal attack comes in
the form of what can be termed the low-level crime. There are more
simple attacks, perpetrated by the simplest of attackers, than
complex attacks carried out by skilled criminals. It stands to
reason that a low-level attack can be defeated by the simplest of
tactics - that of presenting a gun. This explains why so many
confrontations are thwarted without firing a shot, and while people
without training seem to win with great regularity.
The problem is that not all attacks fit that mold. As we get
further out on the scale of attack magnitude, training becomes more
important. This opens up a serious can of worms, however: what kind
of attacks justify more training? How much training, and of what
kind, is enough? Is enough ever enough?
The answer is more complex than you might think, but can be
explained just by looking at an onion. Seriously.
Last Wednesday I asked you
to consider the concept of self-defense training, specifically as
it relates to the use of firearms. This was inspired by thecomments over at Breda's, some of which I think show
an incomplete understanding of the concepts involved.
Specifically, I'm interested in the assertion that one needs to
learn some amorphous concept called 'mindset' in order to prevail
in a defensive encounter. In discussions of this nature, one often
sees simplistic equations like "gun + mindset = success", along
with the assertion that this 'mindset' can only be learned at Gun
Skool. Without 'mindset', the proponents claim, the gun is next to
useless. (Some stop just short of saying that the gun moves from
being an asset to being a liability without it, a belief which
comes uncomfortably close to one of the gun-grabber's favorite
arguments.)
I've taken - and helped to teach - a few 'advanced' gun classes,
and I've sat through many a lecture on 'mindset'. Perhaps it's my
own insistence on precise terminology, but I must confess that even
my 158 IQ cannot attach a consistent meaning to the term! Trying to
derive one from the myriad of explanations extant makes me feel
like I'm in the famous Monty Python sketch regarding the Spanish
Inquisition:
Let's start at the beginning. When we look at the data brought to
us by people such as Gary Kleck, one thing stands out: in the vast
majority of self defense cases involving a gun, a shot is never
fired. The mere presence of the gun, lawfully presented, is enough
to convince the assailant that it would be prudent to select
another (softer) target.
The gun, though, is just the medium through which the staunch
resistance of the defender is the clearly communicated. Without
that desire for and dedication to self preservation, the gun would
most certainly be rendered ineffectual. Massad Ayoob has said it
best: "Understand that criminals do not fear guns. They are, after
all, an armed subculture themselves. What they fear is the
resolutely armed man or woman who points that gun at them."
"AHA!", some of you are thinking. "That's the mindset that you can
only get with training!" I contend that it is not.
In order to be resolute, as Ayoob describes, one must first possess
the innate belief that one's life has value. One must value one's
own existence above that of the criminal, otherwise one is unlikely
to muster the unwavering commitment to self preservation that so
unnerves the attacker.
Domestic violence provides us with the most visible lesson. Part
and parcel of the abuser's behavior is to nurture within the victim
- slowly and methodically - the idea that her life has no value.
Once conditioned, the abuser has no fear that the victim can ever
mount an effective defense against his cruelty, because she assigns
greater value to her tormenter's existence than to her own.
(Please note that the genders are simply for your author's
convenience. I am aware that domestic violence is sometimes
woman-on-man, and in gay and lesbian couples there is obviously no
gender difference. The dynamic of the abuse/abuser relationship,
though, remains pretty constant.)
The unthinking spout "if only the woman would have a gun and proper
training, she would never be a victim of her partner!" Here's the
reality: it doesn't matter how many rounds she fires, how many
mindset lectures she attends, or even if she openly carries her
gun. If she doesn't believe, deep down and completely honestly,
that her very life has value, she may never be able to defend
herself against an attacker - whether or not that attacker is known
to her.
Again, this isn't just a female thing. There are plenty of males
who lack that basic belief in their own right to self preservation,
such attitudes having been systematically denigrated over the last
couple of generations. Man or woman, if the belief in one's own
value as a human being is missing, it needs to be restored before
self defense can become a reality.
This requires some extended time with a mental health professional
who understands the issue and can guide the patient to a new
understanding of his/her place in the universe. It can't be done in
a weekend course with a shooting instructor who barks orders and
carries a custom blaster on his hip - no matter how many times he
works the word 'mindset' into his collection of cliches.
Am I saying that training has no value? Of course not, but that's
the subject of Wednesday's treatise. Stay tuned.
If you go to a car show featuring hotrods from the '50s and '60s, a
common sight will be a pair fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview
mirror. They're always carefully chosen to complement the paint
color, and I've even seen fastidious owners arranging the dice
"just so" to get the proper look. Fuzzy dice are an accepted, and
expected, part of the decor.
Take those same fuzzy dice, run over to the Tour de France, and
hang them from Lance Armstrong's bicycle. No matter what color dice
you pick - to go with his jersey or the bike's paint - they'll just
look silly. Fuzzy dice on a racing bike? Preposterous!
Yet, objectively, the function of the dice has not changed. That
is, they really have no function. They don't do anything, they
serve no architectural or mechanical purpose, they simply have mass
and occupy space. They derive whatever value they possess from the
context in which they occur, but that value is not intrinsic; it
exists only because the context allows it to exist. Think of it as
Second Life with mag wheels.
Once taken out of the expected setting, stripped of the value of
that context, the reality of the fuzzy dice becomes apparent.
Understand this: whether on a '57 BelAir or Lance's Trek Madone SL,
fuzzy dice are silly. In the former case, we don't see them as
silly because we've been conditioned to accept them in that
environment. In the latter, if every Tour de France competitor were
to carry them for a few years - perhaps a decade or more - they
would become part of that context too. They'd still be silly.
The same is true for the tacticool accessories Tam questions. (A
bit of a correction: the device hanging at the muzzle isn't
strictly a white light - it's a combination light and laser.) We're
accustomed to seeing lights, lasers, and milspec red dot scopes
attached to autopistols. In the gun rags, in the movies, and
especially in video games, we're told that "serious" guns carry
these things. Tough guys, warriors and operators, have these on
their guns. Thus the context is constructed, such that we no longer
objectively analyze the value of those things.
Putting them on a revolver takes them out of context. (After all,
"operators" don't carry revolvers!) Once out of context their true
worth becomes easier to evaluate, and laughter is the result.
This whole idea of context is particularly important to those of us
interested in the concept of self defense. There are a lot of
instructors out there who teach what can only be termed range
tricks. In class, the instructor's reputation and manner of
delivery combine to create a reality distortion field that even
Steve Jobs would envy; in that context even the silliest ideas
sound valuable. They may be useless and even counter productive,
but if the student can't evaluate them outside of their context
that reality will be hidden.
The same thing happens with people who get their firearms training
from Hollywood - what I've heard called the "Mel Gibson School of
Firearms". In the movies, the good guy always orders the bad guy to
drop his weapon. The good guy gives the bad guy a chance to redeem
himself, to straighten out his horrible life and repent for his
sins. Naturally the bad guy doesn't take that opportunity, wheels
around to shoot the good guy, at which point our hero drops him
neatly with a single shot. Roll credits.
Inside the context of the movie script, this seems perfectly
plausible. Through repetition the scene is burned into our
subconscious, to the point that we start to accept it as normal.
Unless we learn to force ourselves to evaluate the behavior outside
of the theater we may find ourselves repeating it.
This apparently happenedto a certified good guy up
in Washington a few years ago, who faced a gunman in a mall. From
all reports, it seems the good guy drew his legally carried gun,
then challenged the bad guy to drop his. Life isn't like a movie,
and the rampaging gunman simply shot him - five times, paralyzing
him permanently.
It's important to develop both the ability to look at things
objectively and critically, and the judgement to recognize when
it's necessary to do so. I'd say that anything dealing with
defensive firearms needs such evaluation.
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reading... The Revolver Liberation
Alliance! The blog about revolvers,
training, self-defense, and shooting in general (along with an
occasional surprise!)