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A Killing Art: The Untold History of Tae Kwon Do
In 1938, Tae Kwon Do began at the end of a wicked poker game in a tiny village in a remote corner of what is now North Korea. Today, the martial art is likely the most popular on the planet, an Olympic sport practised by an estimated 50 million students and known for its spectacular kicks. Few people, however, know about its secret and violent past; there are good reasons for the screams…The Art of The Untold History of Tae Kwon Do is a nonfiction novel that takes readers into the lurid dynasties of two men and their Choi Hong-Hi, who began the martial art, and his nemesis, Kim Un-Yong, who developed the Olympic style and became one of the most powerful, controversial men in sports. The story follows Choi from the 1938 poker game (where he fights for his life), through high-class geisha houses (where the art is named) and into the Vietnam War (where the martial art evolves into a killing art). Tae Kwon Do became a martial art for the twenty-first century, an art of merciless techniques, indomitable men and justice pumped on steroids.This book is part biography, part thriller and part memoir; the author, a martial artist and investigative journalist, made the mistake of entering the high-stakes world of Choi and Kim. The work is based on obscure documents, Korean-language books and in-depth interviews with Tae Kwon Do’s pioneers. It is steeped in Confucian values and confused men, high ideals entwined with tragedy ― with tips, along the way, on how to kill with your bare hands. The Art of Killing is a wild ride to enlightenment.
264 pages, Hardcover
First published November 1, 2008
About the author
Alex Gillis
1 book8 followersAlex Gillis is a Canadian university instructor, investigative journalist and author of A Killing Art: The Untold History of Tae Kwon Do. He has trained in the art for 25 years in both ITF and WTF styles (as well as in Karate and Tai Chi). He first heard the incredible stories of Tae Kwon Do from one of his instructors more than a decade ago. Alex Gillis's teachers were some of the pioneers of the martial art, and he has had rare access to these men and their families and students.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 54 reviews
January 5, 2024
The most painfully honest book I've ever read
Discovering the hidden truths behind Taekwondo's history was both shocking and validating, echoing the concerns my mentor, Domingo Tavarez, had shared about the pervasive corruption within National Taekwondo Federations globally.
Master Dagoberto Lockward's recommendation to delve into Alex Gillis' "A Killing Art" proved transformative.
The book's captivating narrative makes it essential reading for martial arts enthusiasts and history buffs alike.
Personally, it altered my perspective significantly, and I wholeheartedly endorse it as a must-read that transcends the boundaries of its subject matter.
Discovering the hidden truths behind Taekwondo's history was both shocking and validating, echoing the concerns my mentor, Domingo Tavarez, had shared about the pervasive corruption within National Taekwondo Federations globally.
Master Dagoberto Lockward's recommendation to delve into Alex Gillis' "A Killing Art" proved transformative.
The book's captivating narrative makes it essential reading for martial arts enthusiasts and history buffs alike.
Personally, it altered my perspective significantly, and I wholeheartedly endorse it as a must-read that transcends the boundaries of its subject matter.
June 3, 2024
If you're really interested in taekwondo, then it's a great book, but it's mostly political.
Going way back to the poker game in 1938 that started it all, there's a lot of corruption throughout its history, even into modern-day Olympics.
Would have liked to have seen more about the history of techniques and patterns and when they came to be discovered since there are only brief mentions. As far as the politics, though, it's very detailed and worth reading. You'd definitely be glad you're not from old Korea.
Going way back to the poker game in 1938 that started it all, there's a lot of corruption throughout its history, even into modern-day Olympics.
Would have liked to have seen more about the history of techniques and patterns and when they came to be discovered since there are only brief mentions. As far as the politics, though, it's very detailed and worth reading. You'd definitely be glad you're not from old Korea.
Read
April 17, 2017Fascinating. I'm sure there is more untold TKD history out there.
July 30, 2026
For more than fifteen years, the title A Killing Art seemed strange to me. I first heard about Alex Gillis's book through Mustafa Gatdula, known as The Kuntaw Man, whose blog, Secrets of the Filipino Martial Arts, was one of the martial arts sites I followed closely. Mustafa's recommendation stayed with me. I remembered the title, but I did not immediately understand it. I had begun Tang Soo Do and Taekwondo when I was twelve years old, later trained in Shotokan, discovered Muay Thai at nineteen, and continued throughout my life in eskrima, Hawaiian Kenpo, military combatives, and other practical systems. Taekwondo had been formative for me, but I had never thought of it as a killing art. I thought of it as discipline, athleticism, speed, flexibility, character, and, depending on how it was taught, a martial art with both real strengths and serious limitations. Gillis's book finally explained why the title was not sensationalism. The killing in A Killing Art is not simply about techniques. It refers to the political violence, dictatorship, espionage, intimidation, organized crime, and national mythology entangled with the creation and global expansion of modern Taekwondo.
My own relationship to Taekwondo makes this history complicated rather than merely disillusioning. I trained with extraordinary intensity. At one point, I trained about two hours a day, 363 days a year. I could already do the splits. I could kick straight up, perform a 360-degree jump with four kicks before landing, hold a horse stance for five minutes, extend a nearly vertical side kick for about a minute, and do hundreds of push-ups, including finger push-ups, two-finger push-ups, and one-handed push-ups on two fingers. Those abilities did not come from casually reading martial arts books. I trained under masters. Hee Il Cho's books were important to me, but the physical knowledge came through instruction, repetition, pain, discipline, and years of work. Taekwondo helped shape my body and my character. It taught me endurance, precision, and the ability to keep going when I wanted to stop.
At the same time, I came to understand its limitations. When I discovered Muay Thai at nineteen, it changed the direction of my martial arts life. Muay Thai showed me what was missing. It emphasized structure, damage, close-range fighting, balance under pressure, and techniques that remained functional when an opponent was resisting and trying to hurt you. That experience permanently sharpened my preference for practicality and function over form. My judgment did not come only from schools, books, or tournament competition. It was also informed by actual street fighting. That distinction matters because Gillis is primarily a journalist and historian. His great strength is investigative history, not an analysis of real fighting from the perspective of someone who has personally tested systems under violence. I therefore read the book through two lenses at once: as someone deeply shaped by Taekwondo and as someone who has spent much of his martial arts life asking whether a technique or training method truly works.
Gillis's achievement is that he strips away the ceremonial history so often repeated inside Taekwondo and replaces it with a much more disturbing and much more interesting modern history. One of the most important parts of the book is his treatment of the Hwarang. Taekwondo organizations have often presented the Hwarang, the elite youth of the Silla kingdom, as ancient predecessors of modern Taekwondo practitioners. In this mythology, Taekwondo becomes the direct inheritance of an indigenous Korean warrior tradition extending across many centuries. Gillis shows why this narrative cannot bear historical scrutiny. Modern Taekwondo did not descend in a clean, uninterrupted line from the Hwarang. It emerged from twentieth-century Korea, especially from the experience of Japanese occupation, karate training, military institutions, Cold War politics, and the ambitions of powerful men.
That correction should not be treated as an attack on Korea. Gillis gives the Japanese occupation the brutality it requires. Korea was subjected to forced assimilation, political repression, cultural destruction, exploitation, and violence. Korean names and language were attacked; Korean sovereignty was eliminated; and generations lived under a colonial regime determined to subordinate or erase Korean identity. In that context, the desire to establish a distinctly Korean national martial art is understandable. The problem is not the desire to reclaim Korean identity after occupation. The problem is the transformation of that desire into a false antiquity. Many early masters had learned or been influenced by Japanese karate, and modern Taekwondo grew partly through the adaptation and reorganization of that material. Later institutions obscured those connections because a Japanese lineage was politically and emotionally difficult to acknowledge. The mythology was therefore not arbitrary, but it was still mythology.
The actual history is more compelling. It places Taekwondo in the convulsions of occupation, World War II, liberation, division, the Korean War, dictatorship, and the global Cold War. It shows martial arts not as a sealed world of techniques but as an institution shaped by states, armies, intelligence agencies, personal rivalries, and international power. Gillis repeatedly demonstrates that Taekwondo's development cannot be separated from the South Korean military and government or from the ideological struggle between North and South Korea. The martial art became a vehicle of nationalism, diplomacy, propaganda, and influence. Its global spread was not simply the result of superior kicking techniques or inspirational masters opening neighborhood schools. It was also organized through military networks, political patronage, and the strategic interests of the South Korean state.
General Choi Hong Hi stands at the center of much of this history. Gillis presents him neither as a simple hero nor as a cartoon villain. Choi was brilliant, ambitious, authoritarian, creative, and deeply entangled in the conflicts of his time. He played a central role in naming, codifying, and internationalizing Taekwondo, yet he also built a personality cult and became embroiled in political struggle. His later relationship with North Korea intensified the division between competing Taekwondo organizations and histories. For many practitioners, Choi's version of the art became inseparable from the International Taekwon-Do Federation, while other institutions attempted to minimize or erase his role. Gillis makes clear that arguments over forms, terminology, founders, and lineages were never merely technical disagreements. They were struggles over legitimacy, national identity, political allegiance, and control.
Kim Un-yong represents another path to power. Through him, the book enters the world of the World Taekwondo Federation, the Kukkiwon, Olympic politics, bribery, patronage, and institutional corruption. Gillis does not describe corruption as an abstract moral weakness. He documents systems in which influence was purchased, positions were manipulated, rivals were pressured, and organizations were used for personal and political advancement. Taekwondo's rise to Olympic status was celebrated around the world as recognition of a Korean martial art, but Gillis shows the machinery behind that achievement. The reader sees how sport governance can operate through backroom deals, personal networks, and the concentration of authority in a few hands.
The book is especially effective when it follows Taekwondo into the orbit of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency. Here, the title A Killing Art takes on its darkest meaning. Gillis traces intimidation, surveillance, coercion, and violence connected to political struggle and the global promotion of Taekwondo. Masters and officials were not always simply instructors or sports administrators. Some were connected to intelligence services, military regimes, or political operations. Exiles and dissidents could be threatened. Organizations could be infiltrated or pressured. A martial art publicly marketed as a path to courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit could also serve authoritarian power.
This is also where Gillis's work as an investigative journalist is strongest. He follows money, institutions, personal relationships, criminal allegations, and political connections. The book documents literal organized crime. It is not merely that Taekwondo politics became 'like' gang warfare or that officials behaved metaphorically like gangsters. Gillis describes gangsters, criminal networks, corruption, and violence surrounding major figures and organizations. That directness is one of the book's virtues. Martial arts communities are often remarkably skilled at protecting their myths. Rank, titles, ritual politeness, photographs with famous masters, and claims of lineage can discourage criticism. Gillis refuses that deference. He treats powerful masters and officials as subjects of investigation rather than as sacred authorities.
At times, the density of names, organizations, rival federations, political shifts, and accusations can make the narrative difficult to follow. Taekwondo history is already fractured, and Gillis moves among South Korea, North Korea, Canada, the United States, international federations, intelligence agencies, and Olympic institutions. Readers unfamiliar with Korean history or Taekwondo's organizational divisions may need to slow down. Yet that complexity is part of the point. The familiar, simplified origin story was easy to remember because it had been manufactured to be easy. The real history is contested because people with power repeatedly rewrote it.
My earlier reading of Chalmers Johnson had already given me a framework for thinking about American empire, military power, and Korea. Gillis made that history more personal. Instead of dealing only with governments and military strategy, he follows people whose lives were transformed by occupation, war, dictatorship, exile, ambition, and fear. The division of Korea appears not as a distant geopolitical fact but as a force shaping individual careers, institutions, loyalties, and betrayals. American involvement is part of that story. The Korean Peninsula became one of the central battlegrounds of the Cold War, and Taekwondo developed within the military and ideological structures produced by that conflict. The art's international expansion cannot be understood apart from those structures.
The book also helps explain why so many contradictory histories coexist. Different students were told different stories by different masters, and many of those masters had powerful reasons for emphasizing or suppressing particular facts. Some wanted to establish themselves as founders. Some wanted distance from Japan. Some wanted favor from the South Korean government. Some followed Choi; others needed to erase him. Some were caught between political factions. Some may have repeated stories they had themselves been taught. The result is not simply a collection of innocent errors. It is a field of institutional memory shaped by nationalism, rivalry, fear, and self-promotion.
For a martial artist, this raises difficult questions about lineage. Martial arts often encourage reverence toward teachers and founders. That reverence can be beautiful when it expresses gratitude, humility, and respect. It becomes dangerous when it prevents historical or moral judgment. A master can transmit extraordinary knowledge and still be dishonest, abusive, politically compromised, or corrupt. A founder can create something valuable without deserving a personality cult. A system can help millions of students even when its official history is false. Gillis's book does not require readers to hate Taekwondo. It requires them to stop confusing loyalty with historical truth.
That distinction matters to me because I know how much good can come from a martial arts school. I spent more than fifteen years training at White Tiger Martial Arts Academy with Grandmaster Delfina Lucero, an eighth-degree Taekwondo black belt, and Grandmaster Antonio Lucero, one of the greatest mentors of my life. My training there also included Eskrima and Hawaiian Kenpo. The academy was not merely a place where adults collected rank or practiced choreography. It worked with children and young people. I participated in that work and saw students develop discipline, confidence, resilience, and a sense of community. I saw young people learn to control their bodies, listen, persist, and believe that difficult things could become possible through practice.
My own children trained in Taekwondo. That experience changes the meaning of the book's conclusion for me. After hundreds of pages of occupation, war, dictatorship, intelligence operations, rivalry, corruption, bribery, organized crime, intimidation, and mythmaking, Gillis ends by taking his daughter to Taekwondo. The choice could have felt sentimental or evasive, but it does not. It recognizes that institutions are not identical to every local school, every instructor, or every student's experience. The crimes and lies in Taekwondo's history are real. So are the children learning courage, coordination, self-control, and confidence in small schools around the world.
This does not absolve the founders or organizations. It makes the moral picture more demanding. We do not have to choose between a heroic mythology and total rejection. We can acknowledge that Taekwondo's official histories have often been fabricated, that major institutions were entangled with dictatorship and corruption, and that powerful figures harmed people. We can also acknowledge that generations of sincere instructors have used the art to help students. The value created in those schools does not retroactively purify the institutions above them, but neither can the corruption above erase every good thing created below.
The same is true technically. Taekwondo gave me extraordinary flexibility, kicking ability, endurance, and discipline. Those qualities were real. So were the limitations that became obvious when I encountered Muay Thai and continued searching for practical martial arts. A mature assessment does not require either worship or contempt. It requires specificity. What does the training develop? What does it neglect? What happens under resistance? What happens at close range? What survives fear, fatigue, impact, and chaos? Gillis asks an analogous set of questions about history: What evidence survives the official story? Who benefited from a particular version? What happened to people who challenged those in power?
A Killing Art is therefore more than a revisionist history of Taekwondo. It is a study of how martial arts are invented, nationalized, marketed, and weaponized. It shows how tradition can be manufactured within living memory and then repeated until questioning it appears disrespectful. It shows how authoritarian institutions appropriate ideals such as discipline and loyalty. It also shows how an art can escape the intentions and corruption of its leaders. Once Taekwondo entered local schools, families, and communities, it became many things its political architects could not fully control.
The book finally made sense of the title that had stayed with me for more than fifteen years. Taekwondo was called a killing art not because every school secretly taught lethal techniques or because its spectacular kicks made it uniquely deadly. It was a killing art because its modern history passed through occupation, war, military dictatorship, intelligence agencies, political violence, and criminal power. Yet the title also creates a productive tension with the book's ending. The same art became a means through which children learned confidence and adults found discipline, friendship, and purpose.
That contradiction is not a weakness in Gillis's account. It is the truth he uncovers that experienced martial artists understand.
Taekwondo is neither the pure ancient Korean tradition of its official mythology nor merely a corrupt political project. It is a modern martial art created by flawed and often dangerous people, shaped by historical catastrophe, and transformed by millions of practitioners. For me, the book did not erase what Taekwondo gave me. It gave me a more honest way to understand it. The discipline was real. The athletic achievement was real. The mentors, students, children, and communities were real. The lies, violence, corruption, and political manipulation were also real. A Killing Art is valuable because it refuses to sacrifice one truth to protect another.
My own relationship to Taekwondo makes this history complicated rather than merely disillusioning. I trained with extraordinary intensity. At one point, I trained about two hours a day, 363 days a year. I could already do the splits. I could kick straight up, perform a 360-degree jump with four kicks before landing, hold a horse stance for five minutes, extend a nearly vertical side kick for about a minute, and do hundreds of push-ups, including finger push-ups, two-finger push-ups, and one-handed push-ups on two fingers. Those abilities did not come from casually reading martial arts books. I trained under masters. Hee Il Cho's books were important to me, but the physical knowledge came through instruction, repetition, pain, discipline, and years of work. Taekwondo helped shape my body and my character. It taught me endurance, precision, and the ability to keep going when I wanted to stop.
At the same time, I came to understand its limitations. When I discovered Muay Thai at nineteen, it changed the direction of my martial arts life. Muay Thai showed me what was missing. It emphasized structure, damage, close-range fighting, balance under pressure, and techniques that remained functional when an opponent was resisting and trying to hurt you. That experience permanently sharpened my preference for practicality and function over form. My judgment did not come only from schools, books, or tournament competition. It was also informed by actual street fighting. That distinction matters because Gillis is primarily a journalist and historian. His great strength is investigative history, not an analysis of real fighting from the perspective of someone who has personally tested systems under violence. I therefore read the book through two lenses at once: as someone deeply shaped by Taekwondo and as someone who has spent much of his martial arts life asking whether a technique or training method truly works.
Gillis's achievement is that he strips away the ceremonial history so often repeated inside Taekwondo and replaces it with a much more disturbing and much more interesting modern history. One of the most important parts of the book is his treatment of the Hwarang. Taekwondo organizations have often presented the Hwarang, the elite youth of the Silla kingdom, as ancient predecessors of modern Taekwondo practitioners. In this mythology, Taekwondo becomes the direct inheritance of an indigenous Korean warrior tradition extending across many centuries. Gillis shows why this narrative cannot bear historical scrutiny. Modern Taekwondo did not descend in a clean, uninterrupted line from the Hwarang. It emerged from twentieth-century Korea, especially from the experience of Japanese occupation, karate training, military institutions, Cold War politics, and the ambitions of powerful men.
That correction should not be treated as an attack on Korea. Gillis gives the Japanese occupation the brutality it requires. Korea was subjected to forced assimilation, political repression, cultural destruction, exploitation, and violence. Korean names and language were attacked; Korean sovereignty was eliminated; and generations lived under a colonial regime determined to subordinate or erase Korean identity. In that context, the desire to establish a distinctly Korean national martial art is understandable. The problem is not the desire to reclaim Korean identity after occupation. The problem is the transformation of that desire into a false antiquity. Many early masters had learned or been influenced by Japanese karate, and modern Taekwondo grew partly through the adaptation and reorganization of that material. Later institutions obscured those connections because a Japanese lineage was politically and emotionally difficult to acknowledge. The mythology was therefore not arbitrary, but it was still mythology.
The actual history is more compelling. It places Taekwondo in the convulsions of occupation, World War II, liberation, division, the Korean War, dictatorship, and the global Cold War. It shows martial arts not as a sealed world of techniques but as an institution shaped by states, armies, intelligence agencies, personal rivalries, and international power. Gillis repeatedly demonstrates that Taekwondo's development cannot be separated from the South Korean military and government or from the ideological struggle between North and South Korea. The martial art became a vehicle of nationalism, diplomacy, propaganda, and influence. Its global spread was not simply the result of superior kicking techniques or inspirational masters opening neighborhood schools. It was also organized through military networks, political patronage, and the strategic interests of the South Korean state.
General Choi Hong Hi stands at the center of much of this history. Gillis presents him neither as a simple hero nor as a cartoon villain. Choi was brilliant, ambitious, authoritarian, creative, and deeply entangled in the conflicts of his time. He played a central role in naming, codifying, and internationalizing Taekwondo, yet he also built a personality cult and became embroiled in political struggle. His later relationship with North Korea intensified the division between competing Taekwondo organizations and histories. For many practitioners, Choi's version of the art became inseparable from the International Taekwon-Do Federation, while other institutions attempted to minimize or erase his role. Gillis makes clear that arguments over forms, terminology, founders, and lineages were never merely technical disagreements. They were struggles over legitimacy, national identity, political allegiance, and control.
Kim Un-yong represents another path to power. Through him, the book enters the world of the World Taekwondo Federation, the Kukkiwon, Olympic politics, bribery, patronage, and institutional corruption. Gillis does not describe corruption as an abstract moral weakness. He documents systems in which influence was purchased, positions were manipulated, rivals were pressured, and organizations were used for personal and political advancement. Taekwondo's rise to Olympic status was celebrated around the world as recognition of a Korean martial art, but Gillis shows the machinery behind that achievement. The reader sees how sport governance can operate through backroom deals, personal networks, and the concentration of authority in a few hands.
The book is especially effective when it follows Taekwondo into the orbit of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency. Here, the title A Killing Art takes on its darkest meaning. Gillis traces intimidation, surveillance, coercion, and violence connected to political struggle and the global promotion of Taekwondo. Masters and officials were not always simply instructors or sports administrators. Some were connected to intelligence services, military regimes, or political operations. Exiles and dissidents could be threatened. Organizations could be infiltrated or pressured. A martial art publicly marketed as a path to courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit could also serve authoritarian power.
This is also where Gillis's work as an investigative journalist is strongest. He follows money, institutions, personal relationships, criminal allegations, and political connections. The book documents literal organized crime. It is not merely that Taekwondo politics became 'like' gang warfare or that officials behaved metaphorically like gangsters. Gillis describes gangsters, criminal networks, corruption, and violence surrounding major figures and organizations. That directness is one of the book's virtues. Martial arts communities are often remarkably skilled at protecting their myths. Rank, titles, ritual politeness, photographs with famous masters, and claims of lineage can discourage criticism. Gillis refuses that deference. He treats powerful masters and officials as subjects of investigation rather than as sacred authorities.
At times, the density of names, organizations, rival federations, political shifts, and accusations can make the narrative difficult to follow. Taekwondo history is already fractured, and Gillis moves among South Korea, North Korea, Canada, the United States, international federations, intelligence agencies, and Olympic institutions. Readers unfamiliar with Korean history or Taekwondo's organizational divisions may need to slow down. Yet that complexity is part of the point. The familiar, simplified origin story was easy to remember because it had been manufactured to be easy. The real history is contested because people with power repeatedly rewrote it.
My earlier reading of Chalmers Johnson had already given me a framework for thinking about American empire, military power, and Korea. Gillis made that history more personal. Instead of dealing only with governments and military strategy, he follows people whose lives were transformed by occupation, war, dictatorship, exile, ambition, and fear. The division of Korea appears not as a distant geopolitical fact but as a force shaping individual careers, institutions, loyalties, and betrayals. American involvement is part of that story. The Korean Peninsula became one of the central battlegrounds of the Cold War, and Taekwondo developed within the military and ideological structures produced by that conflict. The art's international expansion cannot be understood apart from those structures.
The book also helps explain why so many contradictory histories coexist. Different students were told different stories by different masters, and many of those masters had powerful reasons for emphasizing or suppressing particular facts. Some wanted to establish themselves as founders. Some wanted distance from Japan. Some wanted favor from the South Korean government. Some followed Choi; others needed to erase him. Some were caught between political factions. Some may have repeated stories they had themselves been taught. The result is not simply a collection of innocent errors. It is a field of institutional memory shaped by nationalism, rivalry, fear, and self-promotion.
For a martial artist, this raises difficult questions about lineage. Martial arts often encourage reverence toward teachers and founders. That reverence can be beautiful when it expresses gratitude, humility, and respect. It becomes dangerous when it prevents historical or moral judgment. A master can transmit extraordinary knowledge and still be dishonest, abusive, politically compromised, or corrupt. A founder can create something valuable without deserving a personality cult. A system can help millions of students even when its official history is false. Gillis's book does not require readers to hate Taekwondo. It requires them to stop confusing loyalty with historical truth.
That distinction matters to me because I know how much good can come from a martial arts school. I spent more than fifteen years training at White Tiger Martial Arts Academy with Grandmaster Delfina Lucero, an eighth-degree Taekwondo black belt, and Grandmaster Antonio Lucero, one of the greatest mentors of my life. My training there also included Eskrima and Hawaiian Kenpo. The academy was not merely a place where adults collected rank or practiced choreography. It worked with children and young people. I participated in that work and saw students develop discipline, confidence, resilience, and a sense of community. I saw young people learn to control their bodies, listen, persist, and believe that difficult things could become possible through practice.
My own children trained in Taekwondo. That experience changes the meaning of the book's conclusion for me. After hundreds of pages of occupation, war, dictatorship, intelligence operations, rivalry, corruption, bribery, organized crime, intimidation, and mythmaking, Gillis ends by taking his daughter to Taekwondo. The choice could have felt sentimental or evasive, but it does not. It recognizes that institutions are not identical to every local school, every instructor, or every student's experience. The crimes and lies in Taekwondo's history are real. So are the children learning courage, coordination, self-control, and confidence in small schools around the world.
This does not absolve the founders or organizations. It makes the moral picture more demanding. We do not have to choose between a heroic mythology and total rejection. We can acknowledge that Taekwondo's official histories have often been fabricated, that major institutions were entangled with dictatorship and corruption, and that powerful figures harmed people. We can also acknowledge that generations of sincere instructors have used the art to help students. The value created in those schools does not retroactively purify the institutions above them, but neither can the corruption above erase every good thing created below.
The same is true technically. Taekwondo gave me extraordinary flexibility, kicking ability, endurance, and discipline. Those qualities were real. So were the limitations that became obvious when I encountered Muay Thai and continued searching for practical martial arts. A mature assessment does not require either worship or contempt. It requires specificity. What does the training develop? What does it neglect? What happens under resistance? What happens at close range? What survives fear, fatigue, impact, and chaos? Gillis asks an analogous set of questions about history: What evidence survives the official story? Who benefited from a particular version? What happened to people who challenged those in power?
A Killing Art is therefore more than a revisionist history of Taekwondo. It is a study of how martial arts are invented, nationalized, marketed, and weaponized. It shows how tradition can be manufactured within living memory and then repeated until questioning it appears disrespectful. It shows how authoritarian institutions appropriate ideals such as discipline and loyalty. It also shows how an art can escape the intentions and corruption of its leaders. Once Taekwondo entered local schools, families, and communities, it became many things its political architects could not fully control.
The book finally made sense of the title that had stayed with me for more than fifteen years. Taekwondo was called a killing art not because every school secretly taught lethal techniques or because its spectacular kicks made it uniquely deadly. It was a killing art because its modern history passed through occupation, war, military dictatorship, intelligence agencies, political violence, and criminal power. Yet the title also creates a productive tension with the book's ending. The same art became a means through which children learned confidence and adults found discipline, friendship, and purpose.
That contradiction is not a weakness in Gillis's account. It is the truth he uncovers that experienced martial artists understand.
Taekwondo is neither the pure ancient Korean tradition of its official mythology nor merely a corrupt political project. It is a modern martial art created by flawed and often dangerous people, shaped by historical catastrophe, and transformed by millions of practitioners. For me, the book did not erase what Taekwondo gave me. It gave me a more honest way to understand it. The discipline was real. The athletic achievement was real. The mentors, students, children, and communities were real. The lies, violence, corruption, and political manipulation were also real. A Killing Art is valuable because it refuses to sacrifice one truth to protect another.
April 30, 2012
While the subject matter was fascinating (at least to me as a martial artist), the writing style leaves much to be desired. Much of the book reads as though Gillis were writing an essay for an undergraduate research class.
The author notes in the introduction his reasoning for using different spellings/capitalization of taekwondo/Taekwon-Do/Tae Kwon Do/etc., which I understand, but didn't expect it to be so distracting. Likewise the inconsistent order of given name/family name.
He makes a good attempt to give context for each name that's dropped in a particular section ("Remember, he was head of this dojang at this time"), but more often than not, that just serves to be confusing, or the name in question is quite unnecessary. I'm sure to someone who's been immersed in the research the way Gillis has, it flows really nicely and serves as an important reminder of where events fall in the overall web of the book, but I just found it distracting at best.
Final negative thought: while this didn't happen too often, there was at least one analogy/metaphor that was so ridiculous I actually laughed out loud.
On the whole though, I enjoyed the long and sometimes saddening tale of Choi Hong-Hi and his "2000-year-old" martial art. I felt the book also gave (intentionally or not) a nice basic overview of modern Korean history, something I knew nothing about. I wish Gillis and his daughter the best in their continued training.
The author notes in the introduction his reasoning for using different spellings/capitalization of taekwondo/Taekwon-Do/Tae Kwon Do/etc., which I understand, but didn't expect it to be so distracting. Likewise the inconsistent order of given name/family name.
He makes a good attempt to give context for each name that's dropped in a particular section ("Remember, he was head of this dojang at this time"), but more often than not, that just serves to be confusing, or the name in question is quite unnecessary. I'm sure to someone who's been immersed in the research the way Gillis has, it flows really nicely and serves as an important reminder of where events fall in the overall web of the book, but I just found it distracting at best.
Final negative thought: while this didn't happen too often, there was at least one analogy/metaphor that was so ridiculous I actually laughed out loud.
On the whole though, I enjoyed the long and sometimes saddening tale of Choi Hong-Hi and his "2000-year-old" martial art. I felt the book also gave (intentionally or not) a nice basic overview of modern Korean history, something I knew nothing about. I wish Gillis and his daughter the best in their continued training.
August 26, 2020
This book is a short history mostly about the political history of Taekwondo. While I enjoyed some of what it is written here, I found the politics to be taxing and boring. Martial arts is most interesting to me when you are as far away from politics as possible. Because of this, this book wasn’t incredibly interesting to to me. Now, that being said, it did have some enlightening sections with sources that are to be commended. When the history of the art and its development is being talked about this book is as its best for me. However, that is the minority of the time. If you are interested specifically in the politics of the art, then this book will probably be of much more interest to you than it was to me.
August 24, 2024
A brisk and relatively engaging narrative in its first half, but as is to be expected from something as slim as this, it does begin to unravel and suffer from a lack of direction in its second. More than anything, A Killing Art is a biography of Choi Hong-hi, inventor of Korean Taekwondo imported from the basic framework of Japanese Karate with a pronounced emphasis on high kicks that increased as the art developed.
Gillis frames the creation of the fighting style as a passion project turned into a nationalist one in the wake of the Korean & Viet Nam War by the support of the ROK military dictatorship. He shows the interchangeability between the KCIA and the early founders of the World Taekwondo Federation such as Kim Un-yong and Nam Tae-hi, cataloguing some of their covert operations against Koreans abroad in West Germany and the United States.
With the nominal and formal introduction of democracy to the Republic in the late ‘80s, Gillis’ attention shifts to Taekwondo’s attaining permanent status at the Olympic games and the bribery that made it so. However, aside from some reflection on this bribery by pointing to how men forged under the military dictatorship found themselves unable to adapt to the rules of democracy and his revisionist account of the art’s creation, Gillis fails to develop a compelling and continuous argument with his book.
Of course, I should also make a caveat about the usual boilerplate anticommunism regarding the DPRK that one would expect from a liberal book on Korean history. Otherwise, this was a fine debut book on a subject obviously very dear to its author.
Gillis frames the creation of the fighting style as a passion project turned into a nationalist one in the wake of the Korean & Viet Nam War by the support of the ROK military dictatorship. He shows the interchangeability between the KCIA and the early founders of the World Taekwondo Federation such as Kim Un-yong and Nam Tae-hi, cataloguing some of their covert operations against Koreans abroad in West Germany and the United States.
With the nominal and formal introduction of democracy to the Republic in the late ‘80s, Gillis’ attention shifts to Taekwondo’s attaining permanent status at the Olympic games and the bribery that made it so. However, aside from some reflection on this bribery by pointing to how men forged under the military dictatorship found themselves unable to adapt to the rules of democracy and his revisionist account of the art’s creation, Gillis fails to develop a compelling and continuous argument with his book.
Of course, I should also make a caveat about the usual boilerplate anticommunism regarding the DPRK that one would expect from a liberal book on Korean history. Otherwise, this was a fine debut book on a subject obviously very dear to its author.
April 3, 2018
Decent read. Especially for anyone practicing the art.
I tend to take these kinds of books with a healthy pinch of salt, however the insights into the politics of Taekwon-do is fascinating.
My instructor seems to think the author is biased in favour of the WTF, but I did not find that at all. Regardless of which branch of the Taekwon-do tree you fall on, this is an interesting foray in to the history of the art and its legendary founders.
3.5 stars
I tend to take these kinds of books with a healthy pinch of salt, however the insights into the politics of Taekwon-do is fascinating.
My instructor seems to think the author is biased in favour of the WTF, but I did not find that at all. Regardless of which branch of the Taekwon-do tree you fall on, this is an interesting foray in to the history of the art and its legendary founders.
3.5 stars
October 30, 2025
Good and very interesting book. Some of the tales were based on speculation and rumour rather than fact or history which made it a bit difficult. The more recent history, going into Olympic politics, was quite dull.
July 17, 2020
Educational. Eye-opening. A must-read for anyone studying Tae Kwon Do (either form) IMHO
September 19, 2017
The history of Tae Kwon Do, as related by Alex Gillis, gives me a bit of a pause as I find myself back in Tae Kwon Do class after 14 years. It was full of intrigue, bribes, violence, collusion with the government... wow. It also started from a sincere wish to have a modern Korean martial art, and pride in country after being dominated by the Japanese. The links to an ancient Korean martial art are tenuous at best - TKD really does owe a lot to Karate, but it also owes a lot to some larger than life Korean men who made some questionable choices, but also built something bigger than themselves.
I still love being back in class, and hope to stick with it for a long time. I find it engaging, and definitely a physical challenge. I also love the 5 tenets of Tae Kwon Do - Courtesy, Integrity, Perseverance, Self Control, and Indomitable Spirit - things to aspire to, definitely.
As for the writing, it was okay - sometimes really interesting, sometimes too many names to keep track of, and his organization style was a bit... unique. Still, you could tell it's a subject dear to his heart, and that he also struggled to justify his love of Tae Kwon Do in the face of its dark past.
I still love being back in class, and hope to stick with it for a long time. I find it engaging, and definitely a physical challenge. I also love the 5 tenets of Tae Kwon Do - Courtesy, Integrity, Perseverance, Self Control, and Indomitable Spirit - things to aspire to, definitely.
As for the writing, it was okay - sometimes really interesting, sometimes too many names to keep track of, and his organization style was a bit... unique. Still, you could tell it's a subject dear to his heart, and that he also struggled to justify his love of Tae Kwon Do in the face of its dark past.
March 21, 2026
As I make my return to Tae Kwon Do after a long absence, I revisited this book which was originally a gift for my Dad, who took such incredible interest in my Martial Arts journey.
From gambling, to imprisonment, coup and accounts of spies, the path of Tae Kwon Do from Shotokan Karate to "Old Korea" and I.T.F/W.T.F. conflicts, the path has been corrupt, often times controversial and tense, but Chapter 19 - Reprieve perfectly sums up the joy and even a brighter future in the students who want to learn. (Imho)
As a Black Belt in Karate and (hopefully) one day a Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do, I am reminded of the pillars we strive to follow but also, to quote:
"My style? you can call it The art of fighting, without fighting" - Bruce Lee, Enter the Dragon 1973
Yes, it is a killing art, but not every strike has to be coated in malice.
Sun Tzu's, "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting". "
From gambling, to imprisonment, coup and accounts of spies, the path of Tae Kwon Do from Shotokan Karate to "Old Korea" and I.T.F/W.T.F. conflicts, the path has been corrupt, often times controversial and tense, but Chapter 19 - Reprieve perfectly sums up the joy and even a brighter future in the students who want to learn. (Imho)
As a Black Belt in Karate and (hopefully) one day a Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do, I am reminded of the pillars we strive to follow but also, to quote:
"My style? you can call it The art of fighting, without fighting" - Bruce Lee, Enter the Dragon 1973
Yes, it is a killing art, but not every strike has to be coated in malice.
Sun Tzu's, "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting". "
April 11, 2019
I've studied Taekwondo for nearly 45 years, and I had heard that there was some corruption within the ranks... but wow - the reality of it was far beyond what I had been told. I'm a non-ITF traditional guy - I've never liked the Olympic style and after reading this book I'm really glad to not be aligned with the Kukkiwon. This is a well written book that's fully backed up by documented research - and is a must-read for anyone training in the art and way of Taekwondo.
February 2, 2018
A Killing Review
By David B-J
Student, young author and 2nd Degree black belt in CHITF Taekwondo
Edited by: Shawn Rochette & Samuel L-P
A killing Art was written in 2002 by
Alex Gillis. The best-seller is a 264 pages book revealing the Taekwondo’s history. Did you know that this martial hides one of the most controversial story?Most of the
population think that Taekwondo is an old Korean martial art and olympic sport developed after the WWII. The thing is that since its creation in 1955, the martial art had spread so fast in the
world that there are necessarily untold things around it.
Before giving you my thoughts of the novel, you need to know its summary. At the beginning, we see the Korea’s circumstances under Japanese occupation by living the story of General Choi, one of the creating member of Taekwondo who called himself “The Taekwondo Father”. After, we learn how all the other pioneers helped to teach Taekwondo overseas. Then arrives Choi’s nemesis, Kim Un-yong, who will become the World Taekwondo Federation president while Choi will run the International Taekwondo Federation. A Killing Art presents how the martial art was popularized with agencies such as the KCIA, the CIA, the KGB and others.
Here are some reasons why I personally didn’t enjoyed this best-seller. I would have prefered the book if Gillis would have sticked to Taekwondo history instead of passing few pages on money controversial and how a certain Kim Un-yong tried to reach International Olympic Committee’s presidence. Furthermore, I was confused because of the countless amount of characters in it.
Why have-I enjoyed so much the novel? Well, for a Taekwondo adept such as myself, I loved to learn that all the credits weren’t only for Gen. Choi, some were given to others pioneers such as Nam Tae-hi. “Choi ran the show, but Nam was the show.” wrote the author while referring to the martial art demonstrations . I also appreciated the parallels between the Taekwondo and The Cold War because the famous martial art is implicated a lot with communism. I am grateful to all the research made by the author to provide surprising hidden facts. For example when he wrote “ It is likely that Choi was mad not only about the mission’s brazenness but at the KCIA for failing to notify him..” indicating the East Berlin Incident where KCIA agents (taekwondo trained spies) kidnapped Koreans.
The book covers up the martial art history including the two sides of the medal with brilliance. Personally, the author demystified a lot of my questions about Taekwondo and I appreciate. For someone passionated by the martial, it is a must for understanding what happened in Taekwondo.
By David B-J
Student, young author and 2nd Degree black belt in CHITF Taekwondo
Edited by: Shawn Rochette & Samuel L-P
A killing Art was written in 2002 by
Alex Gillis. The best-seller is a 264 pages book revealing the Taekwondo’s history. Did you know that this martial hides one of the most controversial story?Most of the
population think that Taekwondo is an old Korean martial art and olympic sport developed after the WWII. The thing is that since its creation in 1955, the martial art had spread so fast in the
world that there are necessarily untold things around it.
Before giving you my thoughts of the novel, you need to know its summary. At the beginning, we see the Korea’s circumstances under Japanese occupation by living the story of General Choi, one of the creating member of Taekwondo who called himself “The Taekwondo Father”. After, we learn how all the other pioneers helped to teach Taekwondo overseas. Then arrives Choi’s nemesis, Kim Un-yong, who will become the World Taekwondo Federation president while Choi will run the International Taekwondo Federation. A Killing Art presents how the martial art was popularized with agencies such as the KCIA, the CIA, the KGB and others.
Here are some reasons why I personally didn’t enjoyed this best-seller. I would have prefered the book if Gillis would have sticked to Taekwondo history instead of passing few pages on money controversial and how a certain Kim Un-yong tried to reach International Olympic Committee’s presidence. Furthermore, I was confused because of the countless amount of characters in it.
Why have-I enjoyed so much the novel? Well, for a Taekwondo adept such as myself, I loved to learn that all the credits weren’t only for Gen. Choi, some were given to others pioneers such as Nam Tae-hi. “Choi ran the show, but Nam was the show.” wrote the author while referring to the martial art demonstrations . I also appreciated the parallels between the Taekwondo and The Cold War because the famous martial art is implicated a lot with communism. I am grateful to all the research made by the author to provide surprising hidden facts. For example when he wrote “ It is likely that Choi was mad not only about the mission’s brazenness but at the KCIA for failing to notify him..” indicating the East Berlin Incident where KCIA agents (taekwondo trained spies) kidnapped Koreans.
The book covers up the martial art history including the two sides of the medal with brilliance. Personally, the author demystified a lot of my questions about Taekwondo and I appreciate. For someone passionated by the martial, it is a must for understanding what happened in Taekwondo.
March 29, 2018
I had purchased and read the original edition and was excited when I learned about this updated version. I gave the original one away but from what I remember, this edition is much improved. The narrative style flows much better than the previous edition.
If you practice Taekwondo then I strongly recommend that you buy and read this book. The author presents the history of it's creation with a beginning from Japanese Karate to what it is now with numerous footnotes. I had no idea of just how political and.. well... crazy the history of it is. It's filled not just with political intrigue but also espionage and assassinations (attempts and actual). Wow.
There are still a few issues I have with the book. The writing style from time-to-time falls into a clunky delivery that reads like a direct translation from another language into English. There a few times when some bit of history gets inserted without being properly introduced and it's appears like we should have known about it. Some things are repeated and written multiple times and each time as if it's being introduced for the first time. And the five tenets of Taekwondo are never really discussed in much detail and there's nothing about how they were developed and introduced into the martial art.
A note about the publisher. Once you buy the book you can send your purchasing information to them and receive a free ecopy of it which is very cool. A hard copy for the home library and an ecopy to carry with you. A very nice perk!
To finish up, even though I wrote a long paragraph about the few issues I have with the book, this really is 5-star book. Anyone who aspires to earn a black belt in Taekwondo really needs to read the book in order to know the history of it.
If you practice Taekwondo then I strongly recommend that you buy and read this book. The author presents the history of it's creation with a beginning from Japanese Karate to what it is now with numerous footnotes. I had no idea of just how political and.. well... crazy the history of it is. It's filled not just with political intrigue but also espionage and assassinations (attempts and actual). Wow.
There are still a few issues I have with the book. The writing style from time-to-time falls into a clunky delivery that reads like a direct translation from another language into English. There a few times when some bit of history gets inserted without being properly introduced and it's appears like we should have known about it. Some things are repeated and written multiple times and each time as if it's being introduced for the first time. And the five tenets of Taekwondo are never really discussed in much detail and there's nothing about how they were developed and introduced into the martial art.
A note about the publisher. Once you buy the book you can send your purchasing information to them and receive a free ecopy of it which is very cool. A hard copy for the home library and an ecopy to carry with you. A very nice perk!
To finish up, even though I wrote a long paragraph about the few issues I have with the book, this really is 5-star book. Anyone who aspires to earn a black belt in Taekwondo really needs to read the book in order to know the history of it.
July 10, 2020
The Untold History of Taekwon-do
The book reads like a spy novel, which is more or less the best way to describe South Korean politics from 1960-1980. The author, though, is openly hostile to General Choi and his tone mars an otherwise good read.
What We Do Know
Did General Choi invent Taekwon-do and how does it relate to ancient Korean styles? Choi invented the term. To the degree such moves were practiced in ancient Korea we simply don't know. There are Karate elements to it, but Choi's style is recognizably is.
His theory of power is notably different from Karate, and with his later use of "sine-wave" it is different from breakaway Taekwon-do styles.
Reaction Force (based on Newton's 3rd Law)
Concentration (pressure being equal to force multiplied by area)
Equilibrium (maintaining center of gravity)
Breath control
Mass
Speed (united the previous five)
Be glad you didn't live in Korea in the 20th century. General Choi was imprisoned and tortured by the Japanese around WWII, which was common to many Koreans.
Battle Stories
~Battle of Yongmunsan: Chinese special forces and North Korean elements overran a Korean outpost. It was completely dark. One Korean leader, Second Lt. Nam, singlehandedly, with his hands, killed 20 men in the dark. He knew the communists had shorter hair and when he approached one, he felt his head and killed or spared him accordingly.
The 1960s began a series of coups and counter-coups and later saw the KCIA (Korean secret police) abducting and terrorizing Korean citizens across the globe. Even worse, the KCIA fronted many organizations and laundered its money through the Moonie Cult. To his credit, and the author grudgingly admits this, the General wasn't involved.
The book reads like a spy novel, which is more or less the best way to describe South Korean politics from 1960-1980. The author, though, is openly hostile to General Choi and his tone mars an otherwise good read.
What We Do Know
Did General Choi invent Taekwon-do and how does it relate to ancient Korean styles? Choi invented the term. To the degree such moves were practiced in ancient Korea we simply don't know. There are Karate elements to it, but Choi's style is recognizably is.
His theory of power is notably different from Karate, and with his later use of "sine-wave" it is different from breakaway Taekwon-do styles.
Reaction Force (based on Newton's 3rd Law)
Concentration (pressure being equal to force multiplied by area)
Equilibrium (maintaining center of gravity)
Breath control
Mass
Speed (united the previous five)
Be glad you didn't live in Korea in the 20th century. General Choi was imprisoned and tortured by the Japanese around WWII, which was common to many Koreans.
Battle Stories
~Battle of Yongmunsan: Chinese special forces and North Korean elements overran a Korean outpost. It was completely dark. One Korean leader, Second Lt. Nam, singlehandedly, with his hands, killed 20 men in the dark. He knew the communists had shorter hair and when he approached one, he felt his head and killed or spared him accordingly.
The 1960s began a series of coups and counter-coups and later saw the KCIA (Korean secret police) abducting and terrorizing Korean citizens across the globe. Even worse, the KCIA fronted many organizations and laundered its money through the Moonie Cult. To his credit, and the author grudgingly admits this, the General wasn't involved.
January 16, 2023
Taekwon-Do has been the one constant in my life, and I've got the techniques, moral culture and narrative of General Choi Hong-Hi and his ITF spoonfed since childhood. Needless to say, the subject matter of this book is fascinating to me, as it offers a more nuanced, more realistic (and therefor uglier) story about the inception and evolution of Taekwon-Do than the one I've heard over and over. Lots can be said about mystification of the martial arts, and Alex Gillis does his part in debunking a couple of stubborn myths about Taekwon-Do. (Spoiler alert: the Korean art is not created in a mystical vaccuum, nor by a holy man. It also isn't rooted in ancient Korean dynasties.)
The author does well in encapsulating Taekwon-Do within the wider context of a modern, divided Korea. It is now clear to me how the contradiction ITF-tradition-North Korea and WTF-innovation-South Korea came about, and why that is a harsh simplification of reality. Corruption, conflict and violence always was inherent in both branches. Unfortunately it continues to do so today, but that doesn't stop Taekwondo/Taekwon-Do from bringing together and empowering millions of people - myself being one of them.
A Killing Art is therefor a compelling read, although one that at times suffers from the breakneck speed at which names of pioneers, KCIA agents and gangsters are being mentioned. As an eighty year long history unravels over merely 200 dense pages, it can be hard to keep up and remember who's who.
The author does well in encapsulating Taekwon-Do within the wider context of a modern, divided Korea. It is now clear to me how the contradiction ITF-tradition-North Korea and WTF-innovation-South Korea came about, and why that is a harsh simplification of reality. Corruption, conflict and violence always was inherent in both branches. Unfortunately it continues to do so today, but that doesn't stop Taekwondo/Taekwon-Do from bringing together and empowering millions of people - myself being one of them.
A Killing Art is therefor a compelling read, although one that at times suffers from the breakneck speed at which names of pioneers, KCIA agents and gangsters are being mentioned. As an eighty year long history unravels over merely 200 dense pages, it can be hard to keep up and remember who's who.
August 16, 2026
Entertaining and full of information I didn't know. Definitely biased though. The bulk of this book is spent criticizing General Choi, the man largely credited with creating TaeKwon-Do. He is largely given what I call the "Stan Lee Treatment." In an effort to credit the other pioneers that made immeasurable contributions to TKD, General Choi is consistently diminished and painted to be an awful human being, just as many have done to Stan Lee in the comic book world. The truth is likely more nuanced, with General Choi making is own immeasurable contributions, though overshadowing the others around him due to his larger than life character.
I do find it interesting that this author, a practitioner of TKD himself, ends the book largely condemning the art, or at least the organizations, grandmasters and masters, and instructors that keep it alive. He praises his own instructor, absolving him of any wrong doing, and C.K. Choi, whom he appears to have built a relationship with.
As with many non-fiction books, there is always the lens of the author puts onto the subject matter, as they portray the "truth" in the way they see it, rather than wholly objectively. This book just has a significantly more heavy-handed approach than many.
Still an entertaining read, but certainly flavoured heavily.
Disappointingly, no mention of the grandmaster of my organization.
I do find it interesting that this author, a practitioner of TKD himself, ends the book largely condemning the art, or at least the organizations, grandmasters and masters, and instructors that keep it alive. He praises his own instructor, absolving him of any wrong doing, and C.K. Choi, whom he appears to have built a relationship with.
As with many non-fiction books, there is always the lens of the author puts onto the subject matter, as they portray the "truth" in the way they see it, rather than wholly objectively. This book just has a significantly more heavy-handed approach than many.
Still an entertaining read, but certainly flavoured heavily.
Disappointingly, no mention of the grandmaster of my organization.
January 3, 2020
I have mixed feelings about this book. A bit about myself. I've been studying World Taekwondo for about four months with my nine year old. I’ve really enjoyed the opportunity to do something with my son and hope to get my 14-year old involved. I love martial art movies.
This book is good because it reminds me to question my assumptions. Before reading this book I assumed there was one unified system of Taekwondo originating from the mythic past of Korea. This book reads like a real-life spy story. It illustrates how the art started from a lost poker game in the 1930s, took from Japanese Karate, was a killing art during the Korean and Vietnam wars, and spread to the world via political intrigue in the Olympics. Each book division is based around the authors “rule of opposites” showing how the founders of the art did not follow the tenets of the art they created.
This brings up the great philosophical question can anything good come from an art founded and used by thugs? I imagine this is the same question that can be asked about any martial art. My answer to this question is absolutely yes. I want to be as strong and as skilled as a thug but with better values. I enjoy the discipline and opportunity to learn an art with my kids.
This book is good because it reminds me to question my assumptions. Before reading this book I assumed there was one unified system of Taekwondo originating from the mythic past of Korea. This book reads like a real-life spy story. It illustrates how the art started from a lost poker game in the 1930s, took from Japanese Karate, was a killing art during the Korean and Vietnam wars, and spread to the world via political intrigue in the Olympics. Each book division is based around the authors “rule of opposites” showing how the founders of the art did not follow the tenets of the art they created.
This brings up the great philosophical question can anything good come from an art founded and used by thugs? I imagine this is the same question that can be asked about any martial art. My answer to this question is absolutely yes. I want to be as strong and as skilled as a thug but with better values. I enjoy the discipline and opportunity to learn an art with my kids.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 6, 2022
This is an essential work as the background of Tae Kwon Do is much in need of exploration. This book shows how the political and social pressures changed the path of this martial art and its acceptance alongside other such sports. As others have noted, this is a consideration of the sport's history, including the politics which played such a significant role in how it expanded as a competitive sport. While the politics may seem complicated, this is a wonderful introduction and consideration of the sport that is limited, partly due to its focus on specific figures (all worthy of note) that marginalize others. For this, it is evident that the author is not to blame, but rather, there is a need for further histories - more focused on the social and educational aspects of Tae Kwon Do, perhaps.
Still, it is rare to see such a book that focuses on the political and social history of a sport that would rise to be part of the Olympics. Thus I recommend anyone interested in sports and their development consider reading this one. It's worth your time.
Still, it is rare to see such a book that focuses on the political and social history of a sport that would rise to be part of the Olympics. Thus I recommend anyone interested in sports and their development consider reading this one. It's worth your time.
Currently Reading
October 26, 2020The book is able to inform the reader without making it boring. Although that should come with every book, the history martial arts isn't exciting for all people. This book is able to make the history of a martial art even for an average reader. On page 8 it stated "...World Taekwondo Federation (the WTF, perhaps the most unfortunate acronym in sports history)...". I'm not going to explain the joke because I think we all know and I'm not sure if I can put this here. The book talks about the seperation of the North and South Korea's taekwondo, WTF taekwondo and ITF taekwondo. This seperation is still strong today between North and South Korea.
The author did a good job because of his ability to get information across without boring the average reader. I might be biased because I enjoy martial arts but I enjoyed the book because it gave me insight on a popular martial art.
The author did a good job because of his ability to get information across without boring the average reader. I might be biased because I enjoy martial arts but I enjoyed the book because it gave me insight on a popular martial art.
September 19, 2024
Ok yeah this was actually great. The book answers all the questions I've had about the martial art since I started more than two decades ago, while presenting me with a much wilder ride than I anticipated along the way—and with stories that are so heavily cited that you'd be hard pressed to doubt them, incredible though they sound! I feared an ITF/WTF bias going in (either direction) but was happy to find none: this author delivers kicks equally to all sides—and yet he manages to end on a happy and hopeful note, focusing in on the core spirit of the martial art, and the unsung heroes who dedicate their lives to uphold it.
Could use another round of editing though, as several characters, concepts, and organizations are introduced and re-introduced between chapters, each time as if it were the first time, which gets a bit tiresome after a while.
Could use another round of editing though, as several characters, concepts, and organizations are introduced and re-introduced between chapters, each time as if it were the first time, which gets a bit tiresome after a while.
January 29, 2025
An intriguing and shocking depiction of the origins of the martial art of Taekwon-Do. A story of war, hardship, politics and perseverance, the author delves into both the context and the personal journeys of the figures at the centre of the creation of Taekwon-Do.
For those interested in such stories this is an eye-opening read which firmly plants the noble martial art in the realm of personal fallibility, grudges and corruption. This is the real world and these are the real people and the story is fascinating, even if at times the book does digress into world politics a little much for my taste. But, it all helped shape the landscape of Taekwon-Do as it stands today and is important in it's own right.
Well worth a read for practitioners of Taekwon-Do, whether they be from an ITF or WT background.
For those interested in such stories this is an eye-opening read which firmly plants the noble martial art in the realm of personal fallibility, grudges and corruption. This is the real world and these are the real people and the story is fascinating, even if at times the book does digress into world politics a little much for my taste. But, it all helped shape the landscape of Taekwon-Do as it stands today and is important in it's own right.
Well worth a read for practitioners of Taekwon-Do, whether they be from an ITF or WT background.
July 16, 2017
For anyone who isn't very familiar with Tae Kwon Do and thinks that they won't be able to follow what's going on or might finding it too technical or boring, I don't believe that this would be the case. It's really a look at the founders of the art and at the personal, political, and business aspects which have affected Tae Kwon Do.
There is a lot of history here which was forgotten, ignored, and at times suppressed. I would have given this five stars but it focused a lot on Choi and the ITF (International Taekwon-Do Federation) and not as much on the WTF (World Taekwondo Federation). I would have liked more info on the WTF before the Olympics, especially the how and why the Palgwe and later the Taeguek series of forms were created.
There is a lot of history here which was forgotten, ignored, and at times suppressed. I would have given this five stars but it focused a lot on Choi and the ITF (International Taekwon-Do Federation) and not as much on the WTF (World Taekwondo Federation). I would have liked more info on the WTF before the Olympics, especially the how and why the Palgwe and later the Taeguek series of forms were created.
June 20, 2024
I've been practicing taekwondo for more than twenty years now and had heard a lot of these stories from masters and grandmasters over that time. I had taken a lot of it with a grain of salt, assuming a kind of shared mythology around the toughness and mystique of the founding members. As it turns out, this guy cites his sources. It was interesting for me as a practitioner, if a little cringe at times. You'd need to be pretty invested in TKD to get into it. It says something about the continuing state of the politics that I feel vaguely anxious writing this review that I'll run into this dude at some event and get iced out for calling him cringe on the internet.
June 30, 2020
This book covers the history of Taekwondo well!
Considering this martial art has no roots in eastern mysticism and is only around some 50 odd years old there's not too much to cover but a lot of political intrigue and backroom dealings on par with many a political scandal.
I'm glad Gillis wrote this to give clarity and demystify the art for everyone.
WARNING: Do not expect insight into the martial art itself relating to techniques and such. This is a historical book covering just that: History.
Considering this martial art has no roots in eastern mysticism and is only around some 50 odd years old there's not too much to cover but a lot of political intrigue and backroom dealings on par with many a political scandal.
I'm glad Gillis wrote this to give clarity and demystify the art for everyone.
WARNING: Do not expect insight into the martial art itself relating to techniques and such. This is a historical book covering just that: History.
March 26, 2020
Absolute must read for anyone interested in the history of Taekwon-do or even martial arts in general. Follows the story of Gen Choi Hong Hi, the credited founder of taekwon-do from the perspective of Taekwon-do black belt and author of the book Alex Gillis. Captivating read and does not hold back debunking myths, falsifications and reveals the true history behind one of the world most visually spectacular martial arts.
October 19, 2020
Reads like a spy novel. Thrilling tales of internal struggles and crazy dictators leveraging a sport to bolster their country’s reputation and kidnap people criticizing their way of governing. It’s hard to believe a martial art with seemingly decent values was created by such a political man with an outsized ego.
May 12, 2026
This is an absolutely brilliantly written book about taekwondo and its main people. There is no "black and white " or "good and bad": the personalities are shown in certain circumstances they were, and one can understand why some decisions were made.
I would recommend it to any TKD practitioners; I already purchased 4 more copies and spread within my tkd circle
I would recommend it to any TKD practitioners; I already purchased 4 more copies and spread within my tkd circle
January 3, 2018
Great read about the surprising history of Tae Kwon Do that few people will tell you. It's more about history than the actual sport, but Martial Arts itself should be about more than sport, so i recommend it to anybody who has an interest in Tae Kwon Do.
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