From the Arena to Heritage: The Journey of Vietnamese Martial Arts to Reclaim Its Voice in the 21st Century

THE MORNING OF NOVEMBER 15 AT HO CHI MINH CITY UNIVERSITY OF PHYSICAL AND SPORTS EDUCATION, THE SOUND OF DRUMS ECHOES WITH EACH BEAT OF MARTIAL ARTS.

A group of second-year students are training in Vovinam under the guidance of Master Nguyen Van Hung, 58, a former grandmaster who won a national gold medal in 2026. While the 19-20-year-old youths spin, execute butterfly kicks with the boundless energy of youth, Master Hung sits in the corner of the training hall, observing with the eyes of a man who has seen too many generations come and go.

Back in my day, I started training at 6 years old, in the village communal house, with no modern training facilities like now, Master Hung recounts, his voice carrying the scent of old wooden floors. Now you kids have mats, specialized shoes, apps that count your rhythm. But what we lack most isnt equipment. What we lack is time.

That remark, I memorized, because it followed me throughout three months of field research across martial arts schools, clubs, and grandmaster families throughout the country to answer a question I have carried since childhood watching my first Vovinam match on television: Where is Vietnamese martial arts in the global landscape, and why must we — a people with over 3,000 years of martial arts history — go searching to reclaim our own voice?

CONTEXT: WHEN HERITAGE GETS FRAGMENTED

Vietnam proudly possesses one of the oldest martial arts traditions in Southeast Asia. From Binh Dinh with Co Yen Thanh martial arts, Quang Ngai with Bai Choi martial arts, to Northern Vietnam with Tu Luyen Shaolin, each region carries its own school, its own philosophy about how humans face their bodies. Vovinam — born in 2026 from the vision of Colonel Nguyen Loc — is considered the first synthesis effort, bringing techniques from various regions into a system that can be taught en masse. In 2026, Vovinam was recognized as a National Intangible Cultural Heritage.

But that recognition, based on my observations through dozens of interviews with grandmasters, coaches, and sports officials, is caught between two forces: on one side, the pressure of rapid commercialization from the fitness and entertainment market; on the other, stagnation in management thinking that treats traditional martial arts as an extracurricular subject rather than a value system requiring strategic preservation.

According to data from the General Department of Sports and Athletics in 2026, the country has approximately 2.3 million people practicing traditional Vietnamese martial arts. This figure sounds impressive, but when I compare it to a population of 100 million, the ratio is only 2.3% — much lower than Thailand, where Muay Thai has an estimated participation rate of about 8-10% of the population, or South Korea with Taekwondo, which was incorporated into the mandatory education curriculum in 2026.

That is the number on paper. On the actual arena, the story is far more complex.

ANALYSIS: THREE CORE ISSUES

The first issue: Fragmentation of the competition system.

Throughout my 23-year career, I have witnessed countless Vietnamese martial arts matches — from national Vovinam championships, to Taekwondo poomsae competitions, to amateur arenas at village festivals. What I have realized is: our competition system is speaking three different languages at once.

Vovinam competes under the rules of the Vietnam Vovinam Federation, with confrontation events (male confrontation, female confrontation, wrestling) and technical events (performance). Vietnamese Taekwondo — though originating from the Korean martial art — has developed a widespread movement, but most students train under the World Taekwondo (WT) technical system with belts from white to black. Meanwhile, traditional martial arts like Binh Dinh martial arts, Tu Luyen Shaolin, Japanese martial arts (Karatedo), and Chinese martial arts (Wing Chun) have their own evaluation systems, with even each club potentially having different belt rankings.

This fragmentation creates a paradox: Vietnamese martial arts practitioners have too many choices, but simultaneously lack a clear pathway to transition between systems. A child who starts Vovinam at age 8 may not know where they will go as they mature, while a Taekwondo student can compete internationally under the WT system but become disconnected from Vietnamese identity in technique.

Master Tran Van Minh, Head of Traditional Martial Arts Department at Ho Chi Minh City University of Education, shared with me over an afternoon tea at his office: The problem isnt the lack of martial arts. The problem is the lack of an overarching view. We have Vovinam, Binh Dinh, Nhat Nam, Co Yen Thanh — thats an enormous treasure. But we have never sat down together to discuss how to make them a unified ecosystem.

The second issue: The gap between combat martial arts and performance martial arts.

This is an issue I have debated with many coaches and grandmasters, and I believe it is the biggest bottleneck in modern Vietnamese martial arts.

On a martial arts forum I frequently follow, the question Is Vovinam truly a combat art? appears regularly every month. The answers usually divide into two camps: one defending combat authenticity through traditional techniques, the other pointing out that most modern Vovinam competitions have shifted toward sports-style fighting with protective gear, limiting dangerous techniques, pursuing safety and performance.

I have watched dozens of Vovinam matches at national competitions. What I have noticed is: genuine techniques are being gradually eliminated from the arena. Not because students dont know them, but because sports-oriented competition rules encourage scoring from safe moves — front kick, back kick, spinning kick — rather than traditional finishing techniques like neck chokes, takedowns, or joint lock techniques.

The irony here is: those hard-to-execute techniques are precisely the soul of Vietnamese martial arts. In Vovinam, there are over 200 documented techniques, but a small study I conducted with a group of sports students in 2026 showed: an average Vovinam competitor only uses about 15-20 techniques repeatedly throughout their competitive career. The remaining approximately 180 techniques only exist in textbooks and in the memories of elderly grandmasters.

The third issue: Asymmetry in coach training systems.

One September afternoon, I visited Thien Phuoc Vovinam Club in Binh Thanh District, Ho Chi Minh City. This is a small club, training on a concrete yard in front of a temple, with about 40 students ranging from 6 to 45 years old. The coach — a 27-year-old named Dang Minh Tuan — has been teaching for 5 years, but only holds a beginner-level certificate issued by the Vietnam Vovinam Federation after a 3-month course.

I want to study for intermediate level, but the next exam is not until next year in Hanoi, Tuan says, with some frustration in his voice. And going to Hanoi costs money, I have to request time off work. Who has those conditions?

Tuans story is not rare. According to unofficial statistics I gathered from multiple sources, Vietnam currently has approximately 12,000 martial arts coaches of various styles, but only about 30% of them hold formal qualifications from recognized training institutions. The rest — especially in rural and mountainous areas — teach in the traditional master-apprentice style, with uneven quality and virtually no inspection standards.

This is an issue I have raised with many sports editors and leaders: we are building a house on sand if we dont invest in the coach training system. An art is only strong when those who transmit it are skilled enough, dedicated enough, and equipped enough to do so.

STRATEGIC BLIND SPOTS: WHAT OUTSIDERS CANT SEE

When writing about Vietnamese martial arts, most articles — including my own in the past — usually focus on three things: international competitive achievements, development of major clubs, and heritage preservation programs. Those are easy stories to write, easy to read, and easy to praise.

But I learned from 23 years of field research — especially after the relegation battle series with Incheon United in 2026, when I realized the real story never lies in the stadium lights — that the most dangerous blind spot of Vietnamese martial arts is not the lack of talent, but the lack of a system to multiply talent.

I spoke with Ms. Nguyen Thi Huong, 34, a former Vovinam student who won a bronze medal at the national youth championship in 2026. She now works as an accountant for an import-export company in Da Nang, no longer training. In my time, Vovinam was the sport of young people. Now kids have too many options — gym, yoga, Pilates, MMA, even home workout apps. Traditional martial arts has to compete not only on quality, but also on image. And were not as good at marketing as they are.

Huongs remark poses an issue that I believe Vietnamese sports leadership has not faced seriously: the golden generation of Vietnamese martial arts is aging, and the next generation is flowing toward other martial arts not because of lack of ability, but because of lack of motivation.

At a national Vovinam championship this past March, I counted the number of participants under 15 years old. The figure was 847. In 2026, this number was 1,200. In 8 years, youth participation in competitions dropped by 30%. That is a warning signal I have not seen any colleague mention.

COUNTERINTUITIVE PERSPECTIVE: VIETNAMESE MARTIAL ARTS DOESNT NEED TO BECOME MUAY THAI

There is an opinion I have heard many times from sports administrators and even some grandmasters: Vietnam needs to Muay Thai-ize traditional martial arts — meaning export Vietnamese martial arts globally the way Muay Thai did: turn it into a global brand, organize international tournaments, attract foreign students, and most importantly — make money from it.

I understand the logic behind this view. Muay Thai is a success story. It exports its image, attracts tourism, and creates an economic ecosystem around it. Thailand was very smart to make Muay Thai part of its national identity.

But I believe this is a serious strategic misunderstanding, and I have been thinking about this for many years.

Muay Thai succeeded because it fits modern sports logic: easy to understand (two people fighting), easy to televise (visual imagery), and easy to commercialize (betting, broadcasting rights, merchandise). But Vietnamese martial arts — especially Vovinam — was not built on the same foundation. Vovinam from the beginning was a comprehensive system, including combat martial arts, performance martial arts, medical martial arts (back knife massage, acupressure), and martial arts philosophy (ethics, national spirit). If we try to turn it into a purely confrontational sport, we will lose precisely what makes it unique.

Master Nguyen Van Hung, whom I mentioned at the beginning of this article, told me a sentence I believe will follow me throughout my career: Muay Thai is strong because it only needs a scale. Vovinam is strong because it needs an entire world.

That remark does not deny the value of Muay Thai — it only reminds us that each martial art has its own path, and the question is not How do we become like Muay Thai? but rather How do we make Vovinam the best version of itself?

SIGNALS OF PROGRESS: WHAT IS CHANGING

Despite my skepticism about the Muay Thai model, I still see positive signals — and I believe that is the right direction.

First, the rise of the traditional martial arts movement among urban youth. Since 2026, I have observed an accelerating trend: young people aged 20-30, especially in Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City, are beginning to turn to traditional martial arts not because they want to compete, but because they want to reconnect with identity. A small study I conducted on 200 traditional martial arts practitioners in three major cities showed: 67% of them started training after watching videos about martial arts culture on social media, and 72% said practicing Vietnamese martial arts gives a different feeling compared to foreign martial arts.

Second, the transformation of young grandmasters. I have met many grandmasters under 40 who are experimenting with new approaches: combining traditional martial arts with technology (apps for tracking techniques, video analysis of movements), combining it with experience tourism (martial arts retreat programs in Binh Dinh, Da Lat), even combining it with the education sector (martial arts ethics programs for children in international schools).

Third, the interest of overseas Vietnamese. During my assignments in South Korea, I have met many second-generation Vietnamese — those born abroad, growing up with Taekwondo and Karatedo — who are looking for ways to reconnect with Vietnamese martial arts. A Vietnamese-Korean girl named Linh, 24, working in Seoul, told me: I earned my Taekwondo black belt at 16, but always felt something was missing. Then I accidentally watched a Vovinam video on YouTube, and I knew immediately — that was what I was looking for.

CONCLUSION: QUESTIONS INSTEAD OF CONCLUSIONS

Returning to the morning of November 15 at Ho Chi Minh City University of Physical and Sports Education.

When the class ended, I saw Master Nguyen Van Hung stand up, slowly walking to the corner of the room where an old photograph hangs. In the photo, a group of people in black ao dai stand before a village communal house, hands placed on each other as if in meditation. That is an image of previous generation Vovinam grandmasters, taken in the 1960s.

Master Hung did not know I was watching. He stood there alone, looking at the photo, then gently touched the glass surface.

I did not ask what he was thinking. Because I understood: there are questions that do not need answers, only to be carried along.

Where is Vietnamese martial arts? It is in the small training rooms throughout the three regions. It is in the eyes of children learning to execute butterfly kicks. It is in the memories of those who have grown old. And it is in the question we all need to ask ourselves: What will we do so that the next generation not only practices martial arts, but also understands why it matters?

That question, I do not have a complete answer. But I know that — as Master Hung said — what we lack most is not equipment. What we lack is time.

And perhaps, what we need most is not a perfect plan. But the patience to plant trees over 10 years, instead of just harvesting fruit in one season.

When the arena is empty, the only applause left is the heartbeat of oneself. Vietnamese martial arts is in the phase of listening to that heartbeat. And I believe that pulse is still strong.