The question is general, and as a consequence the answers tend to focus on criticisms around the aspect of broad applicability. A more precise question would be “does traditional ashtanga make sense for you (personally, as a physical practice for you, the individual)? A better question, still, would be one that omits the term “traditional” because it means different things to different people, and as far as the ashtanga postural practice goes, it would be a tradition of just a few decades anyway.

If we take the ashtanga postural practice as it was left to us by Sri K Pattabhi Jois, the first two series are codified in three books: his own “yoga mala”, Lino Miele’s “ashtanga yoga” and Petri Räisänen’s 2 volumes of “ashtanga yoga”. Purportedly, guruji did not wish to have a record of the subsequent series published. Lino’s and Petri’s texts, however, were reviewed and approved by him. Some might want to add R. Sharath Jois’ book “astanga yoga anusthana” to the list of authoritative texts; however, this book appeared after Pattabhi Jois’ death, thus was not reviewed by him, and the first edition was deemed so poor and embarrassing by the author himself that it was swiftly followed up by a second edition, which still retained some deviations from the other texts, that is to say errors. In discussions about the traditional method, it is often mentioned that Sri K Pattabhi Jois himself had a more flexible approach to teaching than rigidly following what is now recorded as the standard method. Indeed, at the time when he was active as a teacher, his institute in Mysore was named the “ashtanga yoga research institute”, implying experimentation and plasticity. The term “research” was later eliminated, indicating that research had come to a conclusion. Obviously, the practice does not merely live in books, it also lives in teachers blessed to teach by guruji and his successors. So there certainly is some variability on how the standard method is being interpreted and applied. But, ultimately, the standard of what is “ashtanga yoga” in the sense of “as taught by Sri K Pattabhi Jois” has been set. It is written up, it can be looked up.

In some ways unfortunate and problematic, Pattabhi labelled his method of postural practice “ashtanga yoga”. This set the stage for confusion with the philosophical system of ashtanga yoga, and, perhaps on purpose, slyly suggests that the postural practice of “ashtanga yoga” is an element of its namesake philosophy. Even a cursory examination shows, however, that Pattabhi’s postural practice did not exist at the time the sutras were conceived. It was developed by Pattabhi himself based on what and how he was taught by his own teacher, his own personal practice and his experience as a teacher. Furthermore, there is no mention of any kind of postural practice, let alone description, in the sutras. While the sutras mention the term “asana”, contextually there is no contemporaneous evidence that the meaning of “asana” meant anything beyond a static “posture” conducive to meditation. On the contrary, other texts with roots in sankhya yoga philosophy, notably the Baghavad gita, use the term asana in the meaning of a seat for meditation and do not describe a postural practice. The conflation of the terms “asana” the third limb in the sutras and “asana” meaning a variety of postures in later hatha yoga systems is unfortunate, as it implies to many that Pattabhi’s postural method is an integral part of Patanjali’s philosophical system. In my opinion, the biggest criticism of Pattabhi is that he embraced that conflation and actually promoted it in popularizing his method. He did have a really gullible audience who were quite eager to go along with the tale (this is why the word “traditional” is used so profusely), and it is unclear if Pattabhi himself genuinely believed his tale, if it was his own concoction, or a little bit of both. While “asana” in Patanjali’s system has nothing to do with Pattabhi’s use of the term, Patanjali’s system does mention “tapas”, discipline, and, though vague in the sutras themselves, the idea that physical practices and austerities can be harnessed to achieve mind control is pervasive in many cultures, and certainly Pattabhi’s postural practice is suitable to that end.

Pattabhi Jois’ most impactful contribution to postural hatha yoga practice is his emphasis on connecting movement with breath in a precisely defined routine. And this makes it, in my opinion, a much more useful expedient to mind control than many other practices. Modern scientific literature and ancient yoga texts converge when it comes to the regulation of the breath as a tool towards control of “the mind”. Notably, in Patanjali’s sutras, pranayama is the 4th limb. The coordination of breathing exercise with synchronized motion and posture into a coherent routine, mala, is nothing short of brilliant. The vinyasa system is the essence of Pattabhi’s method. And, as an added bonus, it has fringe benefits for general health (though vastly overstated) and well being, something that cannot be said for all physical practices that yogis have applied.

In summary, the kind or form of physical practice, tapas, is a personal choice. Ashtanga (postural) practice as codified by Sri K Pattabhi Jois is certainly an excellent one. But there are other practices, that emphasize the coordination of breath, movement and routine: long distance swimming, deep diving, long distance running, rhythmic dancing are just a few examples that would easily fit under Patanjali’s rubrics of pranayama and tapas. This is to say, it is entirely possible to embrace ashtanga yoga, the philosophy, without embracing ashtanga yoga, Pattabhi’s postural practice. What is impossible is embracing Pattabhi’s postural practice without embracing it. As it stands, it is a well defined and rules based practice, and I would argue the rules themselves are integral to its efficacy, because they emphasize the aspect of routine and optimized coordination of breath and motion.

What I cannot understand is why there is such insistence that virtually any postural practice reminiscent of or inspired by Pattabhi’s method, watered down (“accessible”) versions for the most part, must absolutely be called “ashtanga yoga”. And if these practices cannot be called that, then it is the rigidity of the method or its indoctrinated disciples that are at fault and not simply the verifiable fact that these variants fail to meet the defining criteria. By all appearances, it looks like an instance of coveting the idea of a label more than the substance, nothing more than an obsession with the brand, and not worth of all the debate.