Two recent Facebook posts and a movie have punched me gently but firmly in the middle of my abdomen, where my conscience lives.

Post one: a shocking picture of a young gay woman, face streaming with blood. She had been randomly attacked by a stranger. The comments, naturally, full of outrage.

Post two: two graphics of a man and a woman having an argument. In the first, there is insult and conflict. In the second, she wears a fake moustache and his response is to smile.

Both were posted by the same person, a beautiful friend.

I wrote this comment on the second post:

“Contrast this with the unprovoked attack on the lesbian woman above. Ironies and a feeling of dis – ease. Maybe there’s a difference in challenge and aggression when it’s between relatively intelligent people seeking a resolution? As opposed to attack by a moron. As a teacher of martial arts for many years I try to teach non-violence and psychological self- defence as well as powerful resistance to violence where essential. These two posts (attack on lesbian and conflict resolution via humour here) contrast two responses to aggression: in the first, the woman could not have stopped the attack with a false moustache. I apologise for this, but frankly if I saw her on the street in that state, once I made sure she was ok my instinct would be to set forth after her attackers with every intention of beating the shit out of them. Not appropriate for one who follows Karate-do! Or Bushido!“

Once I did just that. But that’s another story which will be fictionalised in Cassie’s Game, the TV Series I’m working on. I was young. Stupid.

I’m much more sensible now. I tell my pupils there are three levels of threat: light, medium or heavy. For light threat pull away, laugh, make a joke. If it ramps up, say “If you hit me I’ll tell my mommy! And she’ll cry! And it will be your fault!” Or, say sorry, at fault or not. Then, if it moves to level 3 and you can’t run away or yell for help, hurt the bastard hard, fast and sudden. THEN walk away and get help.

Clearly in the first case none of these strategies would have worked. Owen Jones had the same experience: nutters erupting from the cage of their own prejudices and lashing out. The only thing this woman can do is to hope there were witnesses or CCTV and get the law to do its job. In Owen Jones’ case the attackers were caught, prosecuted and will be sentenced this week.

But it was the movie which made me utterly sick of, repulsed to my depths by the stupidity of people I once admired far too much. Yes, I know – the Holocaust, the Crusades, the Pogroms, the persecutions, attacks, random killings with which we humans have scarred our history. And which are all the proof I need there is no god. But in a way my response to these has been intellectualised disgust, and after all they are none of them personal.

The Japanese invasion of China. Nanking. There they were, my heroes. The Japanese soldiers, their katanas swinging at their sides. Invading an innocent nation. Their strategies: terror, rape, murder. This people with their spirituality, their Warrior Code, their art and poetry. Sure the Germans were as bad or worse! But they weren’t carrying katanas.

Since I started Karate in 1976 with the godlike Sensei Enoeda, I had revered the Japanese. Enoeda was the ultimate gentleman. Humorous, wise, and a superb instructor in the art of causing corporeal destruction to an enemy. But he did it with the Dojo Kun, a set of precepts we had to recite at the end of every lesson, ways of thinking and being developed by Funakoshi, the founder of modern Karate.

The English translation goes as follows: “Exert oneself in the perfection of character; Be faithful and sincere; Cultivate the spirit of Perseverance; Respect propriety; Refrain from impetuous and violent behaviour“.

Great principles to live by, and since then I always have adhered to the letter and the spirit as best I can.

But that movie!

…anyone want to buy a katana? Used…..