Vietnamese Martial Arts at a Crossroads: Between Tradition Preservation and Commercialization Race

On the night of August 14, 2026, at Phu Tho Sports Arena, Master Nguyen Van Duoc — 67 years old, advisor to the Vietnam Traditional Martial Arts Association — sat observing the first professional Muay Thai match organized in Saigon. He carried no documents. Only his eyes and ears. After the match, he told me a sentence I carried with me for three weeks: "There are two things that can kill Vietnamese martial arts — one is forgetting it, the other is selling it out."

That statement sidesteps a truth the industry has debated for over a decade: Vietnamese martial arts is experiencing an identity crisis. We don't know what we want to become — a cultural heritage to preserve, a competitive sport to professionalize, or an entertainment product to commercialize. And while we argue, the world has already run to the finish line.

Background: When the World Has Already Positioned Itself

To understand Vietnamese martial arts' position, we need to look at the global picture. Muay Thai was recognized in international games from 2026. Taekwondo has been at the Olympics since 2026. Karate was just added to Tokyo 2026. Judo has existed since 2026. Each discipline has a competition system, clear rules, and most importantly — a clearly positioned market of practitioners and audiences.

Meanwhile, Vovinam — a martial art founded in 2026, present in over 70 countries, with approximately 3 million practitioners worldwide — is still struggling for recognition at a major international sporting event. Viet Vo Dao, Thanh Kiem, Traditional Martial Arts Association — each organization has its own competition system, its own rules, and more importantly, its own vision of what "Vietnamese martial arts" should be.

This fragmentation isn't new. It has existed since the first masters attempted to systematize what their ancestors passed down orally. But it becomes serious when the outside world doesn't have time to wait. When I monitored the Vovinam World Championship in Paris in 2026, a French coach — not Vietnamese — asked me: "Why don't you unify the competition rules? French audiences want to watch, but no one can explain the rules to them."

That question marked the core difference between us and successful martial arts worldwide: They build rules to serve audiences and media, while we build rules to serve martial philosophy.

Core: Three Models Pulling Vietnamese Martial Arts in Three Directions

Analysis of the current situation reveals three development models coexisting, with no signs of convergence in the near future.

First model: Authentic preservation. This is the path the Vietnam Traditional Martial Arts Association is taking. They maintain traditional forms, preserve traditional teaching methods from master to student, and organize competitions with evaluation criteria based on technical proficiency, correct posture, and martial ethics. This approach protects authentic cultural values but creates barriers with modern audiences. A traditional martial arts match can last 10 minutes with scores based on judges' subjective assessment — not something a Gen Z audience accustomed to knockouts in 30 seconds can endure.

Second model: Sportification. Vovinam has made significant steps in this direction. The sparring competition system has been standardized with clear rules, electronic scoring technology applied at some major tournaments, and a national team competing in international events. In 2026, Vovinam was nominated for consideration by the International Olympic Committee — a significant step. However, the sportification process raises questions about identity: When a Vovinam practitioner competes under international sports rules, does he still represent Vietnamese martial arts, or is he just a Muay Thai fighter in different attire?

Third model: Commercialization. This is the most attractive but also most dangerous short-term path. Self-organized tournaments like Traditional Fighting Arena, events combining martial arts with entertainment, and the appearance of foreign coaches turning martial arts gyms into "exotic fitness experiences" — all generate revenue. But they also create erosion. When a martial arts school teaches Muay Thai under the name of "modified Vietnamese martial arts," the line between preservation and exploitation becomes blurred.

This fragmentation creates what I call the "purity paradox": Vietnamese martial arts becomes too diverse to position, too dispersed to promote, and too self-satisfied to realize it's falling behind.

Contrarian View: The Chaos Itself Is an Advantage — If We Know How to Package It

This is where I want to challenge conventional thinking. Industry professionals often complain about Vietnamese martial arts' fragmentation, calling it a "core weakness." I disagree.

The diversity of Vietnamese martial arts — from Vovinam with its technical sparring system, to traditional martial arts with artistic forms, to new school movements like Viet Vo Dao — actually creates a richer ecosystem than any other martial art in the region. Muay Thai has one system. Taekwondo has one system. Vietnamese martial arts has three, four, five systems operating in parallel.

The problem isn't that we have too many systems. The problem is we haven't figured out how to turn that diversity into a story. The world doesn't need another martial art identical to Muay Thai. They need a story only Vietnam can tell — the story of a martial arts culture that survived thousands of years, adapted to all circumstances, and is now finding ways to connect with the modern world without losing its soul.

In 2026, when I attended the ASEAN Traditional Martial Arts Festival in Manila, I witnessed a moment that still makes me think. A 16-year-old Vovinam student from Binh Duong competed against a Pencak Silat student from Indonesia. The match ended in a draw — not because of equivalent skills, but because the two scoring systems were too different to compare. But after the match, they embraced, exchanged techniques. That's the real strength of martial arts — not in the arena, but in the moment when people connect with people.

What the Data Says

According to statistics from the General Department of Sports and Physical Training in 2026, Vietnamese martial arts has approximately 2.3 million regular practitioners, distributed across more than 15,000 clubs and martial arts schools. This figure places Vietnam among the top 5 countries with the highest number of martial arts practitioners in Southeast Asia. However, only 12% of them participate in officially organized competitions. The majority — 88% — train for fitness, self-defense, or simply passion.

This 12% figure is a warning signal. It shows the current competition system serves only a minority, while the vast majority of practitioners cannot find a path to demonstrate their skills. This is the paradox that successful martial arts worldwide have solved: they create multiple competition levels — from amateur to professional, from children to seniors, from traditional to entertainment sports — so everyone can find their place.

Economically, the Vietnamese martial arts market is estimated at 850 billion VND in 2026, a 23% increase from 2026. This figure includes revenue from martial arts schools, equipment, apparel, and events. But it still falls far short compared to Thailand (approximately 4.5 billion USD/year from Muay Thai and boxing) or the Philippines (approximately 1.2 billion USD/year from traditional martial arts and MMA).

This gap isn't because we're worse. It comes from how we approach the market. Thailand built Muay Thai as a tourism product — every Muay Thai camp in Phuket or Chiang Mai has a website, collaborates with tourism companies, has programs for foreign tourists. The Philippines built Arnis and Eskrima as tools for national identity building — taught in schools, promoted at international cultural events.

What does Vietnam have? We have a beautiful but scattered picture, lacking a single destination for international audiences to find.

Story from Reality: When Martial Arts Schools Must Choose to Survive

In March this year, I visited Master Tran Van Hung's martial arts school in District 5, Ho Chi Minh City. Master Hung has taught Vovinam for 32 years, having trained 12 students who won gold medals at national competitions. His school was once packed with students in the 2010s. Now, on a Monday evening, I counted only 7 students — three of them seniors over 50, four were children under 12.

"Where have all the young people gone?" I asked.

Master Hung laughed — the laugh of someone accustomed to this question. "They all went to work. The ones who grew up, finished university, went to work, no time anymore. The new ones' parents send them to swimming, piano, English lessons. Martial arts? 'Why would my child practice martial arts, can it get them a job?'"

That question reflects a harsh reality: Vietnamese martial arts hasn't created a clear career path. A Muay Thai practitioner can compete professionally, become a coach, open a camp for foreigners earning dollars. What does a Vovinam practitioner have? National competitions with insufficient prizes to live on? Coaching jobs with salaries insufficient to pay rent in Ho Chi Minh City?

Master Hung is experimenting with a new model: combining Vovinam teaching with fitness classes for working adults, turning the martial arts school into "a gym with Vietnamese identity." Initial results are positive — 40 new students in the first six months of the year, all over 25 years old. But Master Hung admits: "This isn't teaching martial arts anymore. This is selling a lifestyle. I don't know if that's victory or defeat."

Master Hung's story isn't unique. It reflects the crisis thousands of martial arts schools across the country are facing: how to maintain identity while still surviving.

Potential Solutions: Not Choosing One, But Combining All

After observing the field for over a decade, I believe the path for Vietnamese martial arts isn't choosing between preservation, sportification, or commercialization. The right path is creating an ecosystem where all three coexist, each serving different target audiences, and most importantly — all bearing the "Vietnamese martial arts" brand.

More specifically, here are my proposals:

First, build a multi-tier competition system. Like the ladder climbing systems of international martial arts, Vietnamese martial arts needs to create levels from community (school, district, province) to professional (national, international). Each level has rules appropriate to participants' skill levels and goals. An 8-year-old can compete under "friendly martial arts" rules — less contact, more technique, awards are commemorative. A professional fighter can compete under internationally recognized sports rules.

Second, create a "national brand" for Vietnamese martial arts. Not one single discipline, but a shared story: "Vietnam — the cradle of Southeast Asian martial arts." This story needs to be told through media, tourism, and education. A tourist visiting Vietnam doesn't just want to eat pho — they might want to experience a training session with a Vietnamese master, take home a small certificate, and tell friends about "Vietnamese martial arts" when they return home. That's how to build the right brand.

Third, invest in the next generation. This is what concerns me most. In 24 years of covering the industry, I've seen too many Vietnamese martial arts talents wasted due to lack of support systems. A talented student has no path to the national team. A young coach has nowhere for professional training. A martial arts school has no sponsors to sustain it. We need to build systems — from selection and training to career support — so no one has to choose between passion and survival.

Fourth, leverage technology. In 2026, when the pandemic forced everyone home, I saw many martial arts schools move online — some succeeded, most failed. The failure wasn't because technology couldn't support martial arts, but because the approach was wrong. Teaching martial arts online isn't streaming a form video and asking students to imitate. It needs a system — with theory lessons, software for technique assessment, an online community for students to interact. Those schools that did this not only survived the pandemic but grew.

Lessons from Those Who Succeeded

Looking globally, there are models Vietnamese martial arts can learn from — not copy, but adapt.

Brazil turned Jiu-Jitsu into a global phenomenon not because its technical system surpassed all others, but because they built a community. Every Jiu-Jitsu student has a "belt" — from white to black — and each belt promotion is recognized with a ceremony. This system creates a sense of continuous progress, attracting practitioners of all ages. Vietnamese martial arts can apply this model: not necessarily belts, but practitioner "levels" recognized through a standardized skill system.

Japan turned Judo into an Olympic sport while maintaining "koryu" (traditional schools) alongside it. They didn't force everyone to choose. A Judo student can compete at the Olympics or study in a traditional school with tea ceremony rituals hundreds of years old. Both coexist, both develop, both bear the name Judo.

The Philippines built Arnis — their traditional martial art — into part of mandatory physical education curriculum at many schools. This not only creates human resources for national competitions but builds national identity from the young generation. Vietnam can do the same — not mandatory, but creating conditions for Vietnamese martial arts to enter schools as a meaningful physical education option.

Questions to Raise

Returning to Master Nguyen Van Duoc's statement: "There are two things that can kill Vietnamese martial arts — one is forgetting it, the other is selling it out." I want to raise a third question: Is there something killing Vietnamese martial arts that we haven't recognized?

My answer is: Yes. It's self-satisfaction. The self-satisfaction of "we have practitioners," "we have competitions," "media covered it." The self-satisfaction of comparing ourselves to our past rather than comparing ourselves to competitors worldwide.

A martial art cannot develop if those who practice it don't dare look in the mirror and admit: We are falling behind. Not because of lack of talent — Vietnamese martial arts talent has been proven at international competitions. Not because of lack of practitioners — 2.3 million practitioners is an impressive number. But because of lack of vision, lack of strategy, and lack of collective effort from all stakeholders.

Conclusion: Vietnamese Martial Arts Deserves a Higher Place on the World Map

I've been writing about sports for 24 years. I've seen sports that seemed obscure rise to the top (MMA was an underground martial art 20 years ago, now it's a billion-dollar industry). I've seen martial arts cultures decline because they didn't adapt (many traditional Chinese martial arts have disappeared in the past 50 years). Vietnamese martial arts doesn't necessarily have to follow anyone's path. But it needs to walk — and walk in the right direction.

That night of August 14, after the Muay Thai match ended, I asked Master Duoc what he thought about the future of Vietnamese martial arts. He didn't answer immediately. He looked up at a photo on the wall — a silver-haired master performing a technique in traditional velvet attire, taken 50 years ago.

"Our ancestors left something very beautiful," he said. "But beautiful alone isn't enough. It must be beautiful and live."

That sentence, I brought home. And I think, that's the true compass for anyone trying to keep Vietnamese martial arts alive in the 21st century.

Not to keep it beautiful. But to keep it alive — and thriving.

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References: - Vietnamese Sports Statistics Report 2026, General Department of Sports and Physical Training - World Vovinam Federation Data, 2026 - Southeast Asian Sports Market Report, Grand View Research, 2026 - Author's field notes from Vietnamese martial arts competitions, 2026-2026