Let me set the scene for you: sometimes I try out my WingTsun – or myself? – against users of other styles. Don’t worry, I am not about to tell you how wonderful I still am at the age of 62. This is about something quite different.
If you were able to watch me testing WingTsun against wrestling, boxing etc., most of you would not identify my movements as WingTsun. Why not? Because you would look in vain for an „IRAS“, a „Bong-Sao“, a „Tan-Sao“ and „chain-punches“.
What is generally regarded as typical WingTsun seems to be missing. It is all over very quickly, and if any movements are identifiable at all, they are not familiar WingTsun techniques.
This is because I do not „do“ any techniques, but rather „chaotic products of chance“, movements which „come about as if by themselves“, with practically no input from me. I could puff out my chest and say that I „invented“ these movements, i.e. that I created them spontaneously during the course of the fight. I would have to admit that I did not do this alone, however, as the opponent also contributed something with his attacking pressure or resistance, namely the impulse!
The extent to which some people imagine they are „creators“ after such an experience is shown by the popular, but misunderstood and usually vainglorious term „martial artist“.
Perhaps I did not really invent the appropriate movement, but only „discovered“ it? One can only invent something that was not there before.
And can I be certain that one or other of my Asian „antecedents“ did not invent or (merely) discover this spontaneously performed movement before me?
In order to give as little encouragement as possible to flights of fancy, I prefer to see myself not so much as a creator, but rather – in all modesty – more as a „discoverer“. This is because I did not really create my movement from nothing, but rather from something that already existed, namely what we call the WT principles or concept. I call them "Movements of the moment". You can see some of these unplanned, nameless (and hopefully still nameless for some time to come) products of chance which just happened or came about by themselves during my last Italy-Tutorial, in the "photo gallery".

Like almost all things, one can divide WingTsun into several classes, depending on how deeply somebody has penetrated into the core of this material.

1. Exoteric (superficial) WingTsun is practiced by those who think in terms of criteria such as „techniques“ and „combinations“. Those who argue with their friends about which punch is the best, whether the thumb should be beside or above the index finger during a Fook-Sao and by how many degrees one should execute a turning stance, or what percentage of one’s bodyweight is permissible over the front foot.
Those who are at the exoteric development stage consider it to be very important whether a „technique“ (sic!) is authentic and traditional.
This is alright and as it should be, for the first stage of learning is to imitate as closely as possible.
„Do it exactly as I do“, is what the teacher tells a student who is at this stage of his development (student and Technician grades).

2. Mesoteric (intermediate) WingTsun is practiced by the WT Practitian who has immersed himself much more deeply into the material, which e.g. means that a punch is just a punch and a Bong-Sao is no longer an arm artificially bent to an angle of 135 degrees, but rather a process or something that is created and passes.
Despite the large quality difference between the exoteric and mesoteric stages, this WingTsun must also still be seen as a „style“. Not WingTsun as a style in itself, as WingTsun is not intended to be a style, but the style of the relevant teacher.
For here too, one tries to follow the movements of one’s model as closely as possible, and the „handwriting“ of the teacher is still very obvious.
„Choose the solution that it best suited to you from what has been offered“, is what the teacher says to his master student.
 
3. Esoteric (inner) WingTsun, the highest achievable level, is practiced when a Grandmaster has absorbed the Taoist concept so completely that every one of his movements is WingTsun – even when he is only having fun with fellow martial artists and e.g. performing typical karate techniques.
Even if he uses techniques from other styles for fun or by way of disguise, but employs and executes them according to the WingTsun concept, the end product can be called WingTsun because the user himself has become WingTsun. The spirit of WingTsun is recognisable in everything he does.
As WingTsun is formless – at least at its highest level – it is able to adapt itself to anything, like water. In this third stage, the esoteric stage, WingTsun is no longer a style. The Grandmaster has freed himself from having to move as his teacher moved.
Instead he moves in accordance with the concept that his teacher too is following. And he interprets this according to his own nature and understanding. When his master students have themselves crossed the threshold to become grandmasters, he will not demand that they move like clones of himself, but rather allow them the same scope for self-development that he also claimed in order to become what he is. „Don’t do what I do, but rather try to find what I am looking for“, is what the old grandmaster should tell those who follow him ...
 
 
Everything a WingTsun master at the highest level does becomes WingTsun by the fact that he does it. In contrast, it is not WingTsun if e.g. a Jiu-Jitsu competitor or follower of another style attacks his opponent with WingTsun chain-punches or a „Foon-Sao“ technique he has learned from a Bruce Lee book.
Why not? Because by definition, WingTsun does not consist of „techniques“ but of a concept or „formulae“. Anybody who steals a „WT technique“ like a sultana from the WingTsun cake is by no means doing WingTsun, but only performing a „dead“ WingTsun movement. We refer to it as „dead“ because it is not suffused with the spirit of WingTsun, it did not come about of its own accord, it was not born of the WingTsun principles and does not exploit an external impulse – in short, somebody „wanted to do it“. The effort and intention are obvious, and do not ring true, as Wu-Wei – lack of intention and lightness of touch – is something one can only expect of a grandmaster.
For a movement to be recognised as WingTsun, it is not „what sort of movement“ somebody does, but rather „for what reasons“ he does it that is decisive.
Something that „looks like“ Bong-Sao but is chosen „actively for the wrong reasons“, is not by any means WingTsun.
Conversely a WingTsun master – if he considers it appropriate and things happen that way – can certainly make use of a movement from another style, and the whole thing can still deserve to be called WingTsun.
 
This is precisely what is meant when my Si-Fu Leung Ting  refers to WingTsun as a „wolf in sheep’s clothing“, though I must hasten to add that it does not have to be a sheep: any coat that can give the WingTsun wolf a surface disguise is suitable.
WingTsun was once a secret style, and it still remains an invisible weapon.
If I have to defend myself, I only want to eliminate the immediate danger. I am not interested in letting my opponent know that I have beaten him using a certain martial arts system. Why not let him think that it was his own fault that he stumbled and fell to the ground. Why should I awaken feelings of vengeance in him unnecessarily? Do I really want him to gather reinforcements and come back with his mates, a knife or a firearm? Practical considerations such as this might well have led to the idea of our WingTsun being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. In my next editorial I am interviewed on a hot topic: the relative value of solo and partner forms in WingTsun.