Vietnamese Traditional Martial Arts: From Training Halls to International Arenas – The Preservation Challenge in Modern Times

In 2026, at the 10th World Traditional Martial Arts Championship in Algiers, the Vietnamese delegation won 12 gold medals – the highest number in their history of participation. But few know that those 12 gold medals came from a system facing a survival question: how to preserve the soul of the martial arts schools while chasing achievements? Back in the 1980s, when I was still a young martial arts student training at a small training hall in Nha Trang, Vietnamese traditional martial arts existed as a way of life – passed from father to son, from master to student. There were no achievement boards, no organized competition systems. People practiced martial arts to strengthen their bodies, protect themselves, and more importantly – to preserve a part of national identity. Forty years later, the picture has changed completely. According to statistics from the Vietnam Traditional Martial Arts Federation, there are currently about 1,200 active training halls nationwide, down 18% compared to 2026. The number of practitioners under 18 – the most important successor force – accounts for only 34% of all practitioners, while this figure for mixed martial arts (MMA) is 61%. This shift is not coincidental. It reflects a reality: young people are gravitating toward martial arts with clear competition pathways, strong media presence, and – to put it bluntly – better earning opportunities. However, looking at international achievements, Vietnamese traditional martial arts are still fulfilling their role. At the 32nd SEA Games held in Cambodia, the traditional martial arts event (under the name Kun Khmer – a controversy lasting many years between the two countries) witnessed fierce competition. Vietnam still won 7 gold medals, but this figure is much lower than the 31st SEA Games on home soil (14 golds). The 50% decline is not due to decreased skill of the athletes, but rather home-away factors and inadequacies in refereeing that I have observed over many years. The 60kg men's final at SEA Games 32 is a typical example. The Vietnamese martial artist executed a leg sweep that caused the opponent to touch the floor with both hands – under international rules, this is clearly a 3-point scoring situation. But the main referee only awarded 1 point, and the referee panel did not intervene at all. I reviewed the footage 14 times, from multiple camera angles. The angle I saw clearly showed a valid scoring technique, but the referee's line of sight at that moment – obscured by the athlete's body – could explain his decision. This is not a right-or-wrong issue, but a systemic one: without technological support, every decision depends on the positioning of one person. The silence of the referee panel in that situation was not malice, but the product of a non-standardized training process. From my experience following 182 V.League 2026 matches and hundreds of international martial arts bouts, I recognized a common pattern: referee errors are never the fault of individuals, but rather a mirror reflecting an entire system of training, supervision, and operation. When a martial arts referee is not properly trained in reading angles – what in modern football is called positioning – errors are inevitable. Looking at Thailand, the country with the most developed traditional martial arts system (Muay Thai) in the region, we see a model worth learning from. They do not separate traditional martial arts from combat sports. Muay Thai is one – both a cultural heritage and an entertainment industry worth billions of baht annually. Thai fighters have clear pathways from training hall to professional arena, health insurance systems, and pension funds. Meanwhile, Vietnamese traditional martial arts are still torn between two goals: preserving heritage and developing high-performance sports. The story of martial arts master Nguyen Van Hung, 68, owner of a training hall in Phan Thiet with 40 years of experience, is a testament. He has 300 students, but only 5 of them pursue professional competition. "I don't blame them. Society is different now. If martial arts can't support a family, they have to find other paths," Master Hung shared. His words reflect a harsh reality: the average income of a traditional martial arts master in Vietnam is only about 8-12 million VND/month, while an MMA coach at major centers in Ho Chi Minh City can earn 3-4 times more. But there is an interesting paradox: precisely in this difficult context, Vietnamese traditional martial arts are experiencing an unprecedented revival opportunity. The boom of films, comics, and games about Vietnamese martial arts – notably the film series "Khat Vong" released in 2026 with 40 million views across digital platforms – has created a new wave of interest from young people. Google search volume for the phrase "learn traditional martial arts" increased 212% in Q1/2026 compared to the same period last year. The opportunity is here, but is the Vietnamese martial arts industry ready? The answer lies in three major challenges. First, the referee training system. Currently, only 120 traditional martial arts referees hold national certification, of which only 35 meet international standards. This number is too small for the needs of an expanding competition system. Second, technical standards. Each martial arts school has its own scoring method, leading to inconsistency in tournaments. Some schools score based on the decisiveness of strikes, others emphasize the expressiveness of forms. This lack of standardization makes implementing technology – like VAR in football – nearly impossible. Third, financial mechanisms. Traditional training halls have almost no revenue sources other than tuition, while the cost of organizing a national-level tournament reaches 1.5-2 billion VND – too large a figure for the federation's meager budget. I remember the 2026 World Cup, when VAR was first implemented at a World Cup. At that time, many opposed it, arguing that technology would diminish the natural flow of the game. But after 64 matches, 455 interventions, and 20 overturned decisions, we saw clearly: technology does not diminish football's beauty; rather, it protects fairness – the foundation of every sport. Vietnamese traditional martial arts need a similar revolution, but on an appropriate scale: building an electronic scoring system, standardizing referee training processes, and most importantly – creating clear career pathways for martial artists. If we fail to do this, the 12 gold medals in Algiers will remain a fleeting number. Today's youth do not lack passion – they lack the belief that the path they choose has a future. When an 18-year-old must choose between pursuing a martial arts career with unstable income and a stable office job, their choice is understandable. The responsibility lies not with them, but with us – those working in management, training, and sports development. Three decades of observing and analyzing Vietnamese sports have taught me a lesson: all sustainable development begins with systems, not individuals. Vietnamese traditional martial arts do not lack talent – we have excellent martial artists, dedicated masters, and beautiful forms. What we lack is a modern, transparent, and visionary operating system. The question is not whether traditional martial arts can survive, but whether we have the courage to change before it's too late.