Terminology – Page 2 – Cheongnyong-yu Taekwondo

The Korean term for ‘floor diagram’

It’s very common to hear in Taekwondo classes ‘What is “walking stance” in Korean?’ or ‘What is “knife-hand strike” in Korean’. There are a large number of Korean terms that are known to most of those who practise Taekwondo. More obscure terms – for less common techniques, or philosophical concepts, perhaps – can be found in forms textbooks and similar. However, the Korean term for the floor diagram of a form is not something I see very often at all, so what should it be?

In Karate, the term for ‘floor diagram’ is 演武線 embusen. This is pronounced 연무선 yeonmuseon in Korean, and literally means ‘lines of attack’. However, with the de-japonification (can any etymologists tell me if that word is right?) of Taekwondo, this may not be the right term.

An alternative term could be 방향 표 方向表 banghyang pyo, which literally means ‘direction diagram’. This is not a purely Korean term – it has a hanja writing – but it’s not a term that’s been borrowed from Karate.

Yeonmuseon is my preferred term. It’s what I use in all of my writings, as well as on here.

Floor diagrams statistics

What a delightfully dry topic this is.

In Taekwondo, every form has a floor diagram. The floor diagram shows the lines along which a student should move as they perform the form.

In Karate, floor diagrams, which are called 演武線 embusen, ‘lines of attack’, are often more literal. If you take more steps in one direction than another, this is shown on the diagram. In Taekwondo, floor diagrams, which could be called 연무선 yeonmuseon – the Korean pronunciation of 演武線 embusen – are more symbolic. The asymmetries of the form are often not shown – for example, in the Changheon-yu form Dan-gun, you start by taking two steps to the left, and then turn and take two steps to the right. The result of this is actually that you move twice as far from your starting position to the left than you do to the right, but this is generally not shown in the floor diagram.

This symbolic aspect of floor diagrams in Taekwondo is taken even further, and floor diagrams are often based on a 한자 漢字 Hanja character (indeed, the Hanja character for the form is chosen first, and then the form is designed around it). This is, arguably, one of the defining aspects of a form in Taekwondo. It’s more common in Kukki-won and Jukam-yu Taekwondo than it is in Changheon-yu.

Some Hanja characters are more popular for form design than others. In the table below I’ve counted how many forms use which Hanja character, and given the meaning and pronunciation of each character. (For this list I’ve looked at the forms that I included in my book, Taekwondo Forms, as well as a few others.) In this table I’ve included not only those forms for which the symbolism of the floor diagram is intentional, but also those for which it is co-incidental, for comparison.

(There are some forms which have floor diagrams that do not match any Hanja character – the form Dosan being the most well-known example.)

Hanja Character	Mandarin Pronunciation	Korean Pronunciation	Meaning	Where the symbolism is intentional	Where the symbolism is co-incidental	Number of forms
下 [2]	xià	하 ha	below	Cheon-gwon	Godang, Palgwae Chil Jang	3
上 [2]	shàng	상 sang	above	Jitae	Pyeong-an Samdan, Pyeong-an Odan, Balsae, Yeonbi, Chungjang	6
士	shì	사 sa	scholar, gentleman	Yulgok, Toigye, Koryeo	Pyeong-an Sadan, Palgwae Pal Jang	5
工	gōng	공 gong	work	Taebaek	Gwan-gong, Ja-eun, Dan-gun (Choi), Wonhyo, Junggeun, Hwarang, Chungmu, Dan-gun (Bak), Palgwae Il Jang, Palgwae I Jang, Palgwae Sam Jang, Palgwae Sa Jang	13
一	yī	일 il	one	Pyeong-won	Cheolgi Chodan, Cheolgi Idan, Cheolgi Samdan, Po-eun [3]	5
十	shí	십 ship	ten	Shipjin	Shipsu [3], Banwol, Cheonji, Samil, Choiyeong, Yeon-gae, Munmu, Seosan, Jisang, Jigu	11
土	tǔ	토 to	land, territory	Gwanggae		1
山	shān	산 san	mountain	Juche, Keumgang		2
乙 [1]	yǐ	을 eul	second	Eulji		1
王	wáng	왕 wang	king	Sejong	Taegeuk Il Jang, Taegeuk I Jang, Taegeuk Sam Jang, Taegeuk Sa Jang, Taegeuk O Jang, Taegeuk Yuk Jang, Taegeuk Chil Jang, Taegeuk Pal Jang [4]	9
平 [1]	píng	평 pyeong	peace	Pyeonghwa		1
女	nǚ	여 yeo	woman	Seondeok		1
水 [1]	shuǐ	수 su	water	Hansu		1
卍	wàn	만 man	a sacred and auspicious symbol in Buddhism	Iryeo		1
None	–	–	–	–	Pyeong-an Chodan, Pyeong-an Idan, Myeonggyeong, Dosan, Gyebaek, Uiam, Yushin, Tong-il, Jugam, Palgwae O Jang, Palgwae Yuk Jang	11

[1] This character is made more geometric for the floor diagram.

[2] The lateral dash is not part of the floor diagram.

[3] This may actually be intentional.

[4] The symbolism of the floor diagrams for the Kukki-won Taegeuk forms is intentional, but the floor diagram is supposed to look like a trigram, rather than the Hanja word for ‘king’.

So it seems that 工 gong is the most popular, followed by 十 ship and 王 wang (which is mainly because all of the modern Taegeuk forms have that diagram). It’s easy to see why these are the most popular – they’re quite simple, and they’re symmetric, and they allow for easy stepping between the lines of the diagram.

When I write about forms, I will often describe a form as having a ‘工 gong shaped floor diagram’, or a ‘十 ship shaped floor diagram’, even if the symbolism is not intended, because it’s quite a convenient way of showing what the diagram is.

How to spell ‘Taekwondo’

From the title of this post, and indeed the title of this blog, you can already see what my opinion on this is. Let me explain it.

I see ‘Taekwondo’ written in a lot of different ways. I see it written: Tae Kwon Do, Tae Kwon-Do, Tae-Kwon-Do, TaeKwon-Do, TaeKwon-do, Taekwon-Do, Taekwon-do, TaeKwonDo, TaeKwondo, Taekwondo, taekwondo, T’aegwŏndo, Taegwondo. (All of these different ways written deliberately and not mistakenly.)

Most of these writings vary only in whether syllables are separated by spaces and hyphens, and in capitalisation.

I think that the correct way to write 태권도 is ‘Taekwondo’. No spaces, no hyphens, no capital letters in the middle of the word, but the first letter should be a capital letter.

Firstly, why shouldn’t there be any spaces? ‘Taekwondo’ is one word in Korean. It would be like, in English, instead of writing ‘information’, writing ‘in form ation’. Certainly, each of the syllables in ‘Taekwondo’ has meaning – just as ‘in’, ‘form’, and ‘ation’ have distinct etymological meanings – and looking at the separate meanings is how we learn what the whole word means, but ‘Taekwondo’ is not three words, it is one.

Why shouldn’t there be any hyphens? In large part for the same reason that there shouldn’t be any spaces. Writing ‘Tae-Kwon-Do’ suggests that it’s three words rather than one. Writing ‘Taekwon-do’ suggests that the ‘do’ is a suffix that can be omitted as with ‘Karate-do’, but no-one ever calls ‘Taekwondo’ just ‘Taekwon’.

Furthermore, in the McCune-Reischauer and Revised systems of romanisation, hyphens are significant. They are used to separate letters that English speakers may interpret as a single sound – specifically they are used to distinguish between ‘ng’ and ‘n-g’. An example of this is in the word 평안 pyeong-an. If the hyphen were omitted from the romanisation, this would be written ‘pyeongan’, but this is ambiguous – is the pronunciation like ‘pyeong-an’ or ‘pyeon-gan’? Thus, hyphens shouldn’t be used to separate syllables unless necessary to help with pronunciation.

Why shouldn’t there be any capital letters WITHIN the word, like in ‘TaeKwonDo’? This is just bad English. The trend for using capital letters in the middle of words (like in ‘YouTube’) is a modern phenomenon that’s used most often in brand names. It’s inelegant, and looks very odd if you dO iT aLl ThE tImE.

Why should there be a ‘k’ instead of a ‘g’? G’s in Korean words tend to be confusing. For example, the romanisation of 고려 according to the Revised Romanisation is goryeo, but the ㄱ in this position is pronounced more like a ‘k’ than a ‘g’, which is why writing this word as ‘koryo’ makes a lot of sense. This is also true of a word like 국기원 – written gukgiwon in RR, but more familiar when written kukkiwon. When the ㄱ is in the middle of the word, the pronunciation IS often more like a ‘g’, but a ‘g’ is often still confusing for English speakers, so a ‘k’ should be used. (Similarly, I advocate writing ‘kukki-won’ rather than ‘gukgiwon’, ‘songdo-kwan’ rather than ‘songdogwan’, and so on.)

And finally, why should ‘Taekwondo’ always start with a capital letter? ‘Taekwondo’ is a proper noun – it is a name – not capitalising the first letter would be like writing ‘britain’ or ‘korea’. Taekwondo is a specific style of martial arts, much the same way that Impressionism is a specific style of western art, and both should be written with a capital letter at the start.

My conventions when writing Korean text

I write a lot about Taekwondo. At the time I’m writing this blog post, I have written nine books on the subject. I write a lot about the terminology used in Taekwondo, even if that’s not the main subject of the book or post. If I use a Korean word in the text, I will give the han-geul, hanja, and romanisation for the word in-line. I do this because a lot of authors mis-romanise Korean words, sometimes to the extent where you can’t be sure what word they mean. Korean is the proper language of Taekwondo, even though probably more of the art’s practitioners are not Korean and do not speak conversational Korean. When authors mis-romanise han-geul, the reader can’t be sure what the correct Korean is, and what the correct pronunciation is, and this leads to a degradation of knowledge among Taekwondo practitioners. By including the han-geul directly in the text, the reader never has to look it up, and can be sure that the romanisation presented is correct.

However, adding the han-geul, hanja, romanisation, and translation for most of the terms I use into the text is quite difficult to do right – it’s a lot of information and if it’s not presented well and consistently, then it’s confusing. Here are the conventions I use for adding Korean into what I write, and why I use them.

Let’s say I want to put the word dojang into a sentence. I put the han-geul, 도장, first, because Korean is the proper language of Taekwondo, and so should come before anything else. If the han-geul has a writing in hanja, which for dojang is 道場, that will come immediately after the han-geul, separated by a space. I think it’s important to write the hanja because if it’s not there then the reader may have to look it up, which is time-consuming and not straight-forward for the average reader. After that I will write the romanisation. I use the Revised Romanisation of Korean. The main reason I use this romanisation system is because it’s what I’ve always used, and I want to be consistent with what I’ve already written. I actually think that the McCune-Reischauer system is better at representing the pronunciation of Korean. I will sometimes include the McCune-Reischauer Romanisation of the word in parentheses () if I think it’s useful. The romanisation I always put in italic text – which is why I always put Taekwondo in italics.

So for dojang, I would normally write this in the text as: 도장 道場 dojang

If I’ve already written the han-geul and hanja for a word in the book or post that I’m writing, I won’t include it a second time if I write the word again (the exception being for lists of movements of forms).

These conventions give the reader a lot of information, make it very easy for the reader to find out the han-geul for a given word, make it easier for people whose first language is not English to interpret what I write, and reinforce Korean as the proper language of Taekwondo.

Why do I say ‘form’ instead of ‘pattern’?

I practise Changheon-yu Taekwondo – the style of Taekwondo promulgated by Choi Hong-hi. In Changheon-yu, we call forms – predetermined series’ of movements that are used as educational exercises, among other uses – ‘patterns’. We use this word because it’s the word that Choi favoured. I, however, prefer to use the word ‘form’, and here’s why.

In the early years of Taekwondo, everyone called these exercises 형 hyeong, which is the Korean pronunciation of the Japanese word 型形 kata, and this is evidenced by early Korean texts. 형 hyeong is generally translated into English as ‘form’. Now, however, alternate words are used. Choi changed to using 틀 teul to describe them. 틀 teul literally means ‘mould’, and the implication here is that the exercise ‘moulds’ or ‘shapes’ your techniques. Choi chose ‘pattern’ as the translation of 틀 teul, with the same aim. In Kukki-won Taekwondo, 품새 pumsae is the modern Korean term for these exercises.

Part of the motivation behind these changes was to de-Japanese Taekwondo. Taekwondo is descended from Karate, and for a long time, the Korean pronunciations of Japanese terms were used to describe techniques in Taekwondo. However, since the Japanese had occupied the Korean peninsula for several decades, and had attempted to eradicate Korean culture, many of those in Taekwondo wanted to remove the influence of Japan on the art, and this meant changing the terminology. That’s why nowadays we use the term 손칼 sonkal to describe a knife-hand, rather than the term 수도 sudo – the Korean pronunciation of 手刀 shutō, which refers to a knife-hand in Japanese martial arts. The word for ‘form’, 형 hyeong, was also replaced.

I use the word ‘form’ rather than ‘pattern’, when writing in English, because I think that ‘pattern’ implies the wrong meaning – ‘pattern’ suggests a series of movements that repeat themselves, and while this is true for some forms, it isn’t true for a lot of them. ‘Form’ is a generic word that doesn’t imply anything about the content of the exercise. Also, using ‘form’ brings the terminological conventions of Taekwondo into line with those of other martial arts. I use 형 hyeong in Korean for the same reason.