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It's no secret that a number of us in the WMA/HEMA community are actively working on rule-sets for tournaments. In recent threads on this subject (both on US and European sites), I've noticed that there is a certain subset of our community that has a visceral reaction to the idea of tournaments.
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<li>Questions about the legitimacy of tournaments
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<li>Doubts about the usefulness and functions of tournament</li>
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<li>A perception that the fighting in tournaments is not high quality</li>
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<li>Discomfort with the ego-related issues inherent in tournaments</li>
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<li>Concern that tournaments will encourage a sports mentality, rather than a proper martial attitude</li>
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<li>Concern that contestants will be more concerned with gaming the rules and winning than in showing proper technique</li>
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<li>Concern that tournament formats/rules will either warp or discourage proper technique</li>
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The goal of this thread is to explore these concerns, as well as to present the positive side of tournaments. While I am a strong believer in the value of tournaments, I am also sympathetic to the concerns listed above, and share some of them. Also, I have close friends on both sides of the divide.
By way of disclosure, I do have a strong background in both sport fencing (university teams in foil and sabre) and kendo (regular participant in tournaments during college). Despite this, I do not consider myself to be "sports-oriented". On the c
I sometimes hear doubts expressed about the legitimacy of tournaments as an element of the Historical European Martial Arts. I find this surprising, since the very word "tournament" is an outgrowth of a French martial tradition which spread to every European country. Competitions of various sorts were integral to the historical martial arts, from the very beginning onward: Wrestling, boxing, and pancration at the Olympic games in Greece; the Roman gladiatorial games; knightly tournaments; the
pas d'armes of France and Burgundy; the knightly
Kolbenturnier and bourgeois
Fechtschule competitions of Germany; the longsword and rapier tournaments of the Belgian fencing guilds; prize-playing all across Europe; English singlestick matches; Breton and Cornish wrestling contests... The list goes on and on.
The ubiquitous nature of tournaments and similar competitions in the Western martial tradition amounts, in part, to an implicit acknowledgement of their martial value by the warrior classes of Europe. Competitive fighting was used by the very fighters whose historical example we are attempting to emulate. Tournaments have always had their share of detractors, but they have also been a part of every European martial tradition. Thus, their legitimacy as an element of the practice of WMA/HEMA cannot be called into question.
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Tournaments Provide the Best Form of Pressure-Testing Available</u>
The primary goal of the WMA/HEMA community is to revive the traditional fighting arts of Europe, based on surviving manuals of fence. As we have seen over time, this results in a host of competing interpretations of historical fencing technique. Ultimately, the touchstone for any interpretation must be the following: Can you carry it out under pressure against an unfamiliar, uncooperative opponent? Anyone who is truly dedicated to this pursuit must, at some point, apply this touchstone to his interpretation. (Credit for this "touchstone" goes to Scott Brown; the idea is not my own.) Tournaments provide the best venue for doing this.
On a more personal level, it's also natural for a swordsman to want to test his own skills under pressure. Sparring and free play are fine, but only go so far: The opponent is often a regular training partner, with familiar movement patterns and a level of trust resulting from previous interactions. Sparring with unfamiliar opponents is better, but there is still a choice of partner involved, giving the swordsman a degree of control over the terms of the encounter.
The fact is, free play is simply not the same as fighting in a public competition. The level of adrenaline, effort, and concentration goes way up in a tournament. One reason is the presence of a large audience; another is the fact that the fighter's performance is being measured by unfamiliar judges according to pre-set criteria; yet another is the fact that the opponents are generally strangers, typically chosen at random. Finally, social pressures (potential loss of face or reputation) also play a role in increasing the stress of tournament fighting.
Plenty of research has been done in recent years regarding the physiological and psychological effects of combat stress. (For a great discussion, read Dave Grossman's book,
On Combat: The Psychology and Physiology of Deadly Conflict in War and in Peace.) This research makes clear that combat stress has a big impact on our ability to perform complex physical actions, such as the techniques that we study in historical manuals of fence. In my view, exposure to the pressure of tournaments is invaluable for learning how we react under stress. In turn, that tells us how likely it is that we will be able to carry out a particular technique in a real fight. While I don't pretend that tournaments fully replicate the stress of real combat, or that they accurately replicate a real fight, they do provide the closest approximation that we are capable of within acceptable bounds of safety.
This same body of research suggests that regular exposure to combat stress teaches us how to deal with it effectively. A swordsman who is accustomed to the stress of tournament fighting will thus become "immunized" to some extent. He will be able to go about the business of fighting more effectively, and will be less affected by the disturbing effect of adrenaline on his body. For those who truly desire to know if their skills are functional, shunning tournaments amounts to a decision to forego the best pressure-testing tool available.
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Tournament Fighting is an Excellent Reality Check</u>
Tournament fighting represents a healthy dose of reality for most people. A fighter's own perception of how he behaves while fencing is often highly subjective. At worst, his opinion of himself may amount to pure fantasy. The objective nature of tournament fighting (evaluated by third parties, according to pre-set criteria) forces a reality check on the fighter. This is particularly the case when bouts are videotaped, as is commonly the case in today's tournament scene. There is real value in this, since it disabuses the fighter of false notions about his technique. It also gives him a much clearer idea of what is (and is not) possible when fighting at full speed. This reality check is particularly important for instructors, who bear the responsibility of passing on martially-sound technique to their students.
Viewed in this light, tournaments can be a very humbling experience. At my first kendo tournament (age 17), I had my ass handed to me by a 14-year old who barely came up to my shoulder. At the same tournament, one of my fellow club-members (with macho tendencies) was thoroughly trounced by a smaller female opponent. We were both crushed by the experience, but went back to train with much greater focus. Not only did the tournament serve as a reality check for us, but the sharp blow to our egos gave us the spur we needed to improve ourselves. This is not an isolated experience; such tales are commonplace among tournament fighters.
It has become common practice is to video all fights during a tournament, then to post them online, such as on YouTube. This has a positive effect, in that it allows other members of community to see compare themselves to the fighters, serving as yet another form of reality check. It also serves as a visual record of the overall trends and quality of fencing in our community. This will allow the collective progress of the community to be measured over time.
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On the Perception that Tournament Fighting is of Poor Quality</u>
As mentioned above, combat stress (real or simulated) generally has a negative effect on physical performance. Thus, it should be no surprise that the fighting we see in tournaments is often not as graceful or smooth as the fighting we see when watching free play in a relaxed club environment. As the level of tension increases, the fighters strike harder, move faster, and are extremely focused on their opponent's movements. This nervous tension is clearly reflected in the fighter's movement patterns, and it is not uncommon to see actions that sometimes look almost convulsive in nature. Pretty? Not at all. More representative of a real fight than free play in a fencing salle? Absolutely.
For many spectators, especially those who hold a strong vision of what they believe is "proper fencing" (a large percentage of our community), tournament fighting strikes them as a crude, unworthy expression of their art. But let's face it: Brute force plays a role in any form of fighting. Although we should not encourage it, we must also be cautious about unduly penalizing it. Good fencing technique is a way of countering brute force, and making up for differences in size and strength. If we create an artificial environment where those natural attributes play no role, that will result in true "sportification" of our art, and deprive it of martial value entirely.
The raw, ugly reality of much tournament fighting is apparent not only to the spectators, but also to the fighters themselves. The stress of combat (real or simulated) is inherently unpleasant. Many people have severe negative reactions to combat stress (e.g. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Likewise, many people have lesser, but still negative reactions to the stress of tournament fighting, which is often much faster, harder, and more intense than they are used to. This can make the first exposure to tournament fighting a disappointing and unpleasant experience. Some fencers who take part in tournaments are so discouraged by their performance that they decide competition is not for them, and never go back.
And yet, some tournament fighters are clearly able to carry out martially-sound technique under pressure. Yes, many fights in a tournament will inevitably involve a certain amount of ugly, force-on-force violence. But every tournament will also include sublime moments when fighters rise to the occasion, and make sophisticated use of timing, distance, and technique to convincingly defeat their opponents. In my view, those moments are becoming more and more frequent. By instituting the right rule-sets (in particular, rules that discourage or even penalize double-hits), I am convinced that we have the ability to shape the behavior of fighters in the right direction, towards good swordsmanship and away from unthinking, convulsive bashing.
Moreover, the high level of competition involved in tournaments forces fighters to think about their opponent's tactics, and how to counter them. This is precisely how technique must have developed in the historical context -- through a feed-back loop of experience, observation, analysis, and further experiment. I am convinced that as the level of fencing at our tournaments increases, so too will the level of thought and analysis required to defeat the best fighters. This will lead competitors to look to the best source of technical solutions that we have: The historical fencing manuals which we all study.
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On Ego-Related Issues</u>
Some critics of tournaments are put off by ego-related issues. There is no doubt that ego becomes involved in tournaments. For the winner, there is an ego boost, and the opportunity to brag; for the loser, there is the potential shame and humiliation of defeat. This is unavoidable in any endeavor that distinguishes between winners and losers. While some are uncomfortable with this aspect of tournaments, there is value to be found here as well.
Also, let's remember that not all tournament fighters are motivated by ego; many take part with a humble spirit, and readily accept the outcome, good or bad. In this regard, tournament fighting is a character-building experience. It is also instructive for others, who get to see the full range of human character -- both the ego-driven fighter and his opposite.
The speed, violence, and physicality of tournament fighting can be off-putting for some competitors. Yet for those who do go back, there is the great benefit that comes from learning how to cope with the heightened stress levels inherent in a competitive environment. Once they learn how to function effectively in that stressful environment, there is a great sense of pride that comes from being able to master one's emotion and adrenaline and successfully carry out martial technique under pressure. This is especially the case when a fighter can manage to do this consistently enough to win the tournament.
Is this ego-stroking? To some extent, I suppose. But putting it in those terms sounds a bit like sour grapes. Viewed from a different perspective, what is wrong with pride in hard-won accomplishments? Fighting is inherently a contest of egos. To deny this is to reject the fundamental nature of combat. Generations of generals and warriors have commented on the importance of fighting spirit in combat; a healthy ego is an important part of this.
Our community is a "big tent" with room for different approaches. But it definitely needs to have outlets for people's natural drives. These include the drive to compete; the desire for attention; and the desire for recognition of one's accompishments. Creating a controlled environment where those drives can be expressed in a positive manner will help our community to grow, and will make it more rounded and complete.
Let's face it, many people are attracted to our community because they want to learn how to "sword fight." If we ignore or repress that desire, those people will simply go elsewhere. On the contrary, we should recognize this urge and channel it. Creating a system where winners are publicly recognized will encourage others to emulate their performance. It also creates role models, whose skill and accomplishments will serve as an inspiration for others.
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Sports Mentality vs. Proper Martial Attitude, and the Concern that Fighters will "Game the Rules"</u>
Maestro Sean Hayes recently posted a comment relevant to this topic. Watching a sport-fencing tournament, he commented that a particular technique would not have worked with sharp swords. His fellow spectator responded along the lines of, "Who cares? This is just a game." The evolution of this kind of "sports mentality" is generally repulsive to the WMA/HEMA community, and is something we clearly need to avoid. One way of doing this is to ensure that those involved in developing tournament rule-sets are clearly focused on their goals. Statement of those goals thus becomes critical, since it affects the end-state we strive for. High among those goals must be an explicit statement that we seek to encourage the use of historical technique; to reward the use of skill as opposed to brute force; and to reduce artificiality to the extent compatible with safety and accurate judging.
One major concern that I have heard voiced, and which I share, is that contestants may become so interested in winning that they focus more on gaming the rules than on fighting with good technique. I have helped stage tournaments in the past where this was clearly evident. For example, one tournament rule-set used weighted scoring for different targets; the head was worth 3 points, the arm worth 1 point. (This rule set is historical in nature, and is described in Manciolino's manual of fence from 1531.) Fighters quickly began using their left arms to block head-blows, a sensible thing to do under the rules in question. The solution? Creation of a new rule, to the effect that covering the target with the arm made it of the same value as the head.
The key lesson here is that great attention must be paid to constructing rule-sets that are well-thought out, and which contain safeguards designed to minimize such gaming. Any rule-set will contain compromises, whether for the sake of safety, for ease of administration, or for other reasons. Thus, no rule-set will be perfect; but by clearly focusing on the goals to be attained, and the evils to be avoided, the ability of fencers to game the rules can be reduced to a minimum.
Another example of this are rules dealing with double-hits. Certain rule-sets create the possibility of using double-hits to the fencer's advantage, such as the rules for the epee in modern sport fencing. By rejecting such rules, and adopting other models which discourage and even penalize double hits, the behavior of fencers can be shaped, pushing them in the direction of good swordsmanship. (For a thorough discussion of this subject, see the recent thread, "The Problem of the Double Hit.")
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On the Concern that Tournament Formats or Rules will Warp or Discourage Proper Technique</u>
A friend of mine once visited a kendo club in Los Angeles. During the evening's practice, one of the senior students instructed him not to parry a blow to his side, but instead to cover the target with his elbow, since the arm was off-target under kendo rules. This anecdote is a classic example of how a sportive mentality can lead to "technique" that makes sense under the rules, but which is antithetical to notions of good swordsmanship. The familiar use of the "flick" in modern sport fencing is another example of this.
Certainly, this is an area that needs to be watched, and careful attention paid to the effect of weapon simulators, rule-sets, and even attitudes. A weapon simulator that is flexible and whippy (like a fencer's foil) could lead to the intentional use of "flicks", and will force much wider parries by the defender; neither of these would be desirable with real swords. Rule-sets that create no penalty for double hits will create a mind-set that these are acceptable and to be ignored (an idea which should be repulsive to any swordsman). An attitude that "this is just a game" as opposed to "this represents an encounter with sharps" is also of major concern, and needs to be vigilantly guarded against. This concern does not apply just to tournaments, but applies to free-play as well.
However, this problem is not insurmountable. The most important thing is to recognize that rule-sets have the effect of shaping the fighters' behavior. By tailoring the rules, effects can be created or eliminated. (Although there are often unintended side-effects that must be guarded against.) With this understanding, and a clear idea of what we want to achieve, rule-sets that warp technique can be recognized and corrected.
For example, one item of concern is the excessive use of one-handed blows with the longsword. This type of attack is historically documented in many traditions (examples can be found in Fiore, Talhoffer, Wilhalm, Di Grassi, and Silver). However, in a tournament environment, there is a temptation to over-rely on this technique, because it works well, and gives the fencer a great reach advantage. The danger is that this technique could end up being over-represented in tournament play, creating a type of fencing that is unrepresentative of traditional longsword fencing (as currently understood). Yet with the proper attention to rule-sets (in particular, the adoption of the "after-blow" concept taken from the Franco-Belgian guild rules), this tendency is slowing down, and the one-handed blow becomes a much less attractive tactical option.
Bottom line: This is a legitimate concern, but with a clear eye on our goals (e.g., to create a rule-set that reduces artificiality to the extent compatible with safety and accurate judging, and to encourage the use of historical technique), it is a danger which can be guarded against.
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Reputation Issues Associated with Tournaments</u>
One sensitive issue connected with tournaments is the pressure it puts on those in leadership positions. For instructors, it is an implicit challenge to practice what they preach. It is easy for an instructor to demonstrate technique in a controlled environment, with a cooperative training partner. It is quite another thing to demonstrate those skills under pressure, in public, against an unfamiliar opponent. This puts a lot of stress on instructors, who may worry about issues such as potential loss of face among their peers, damage to their reputation in the community, and the possible undermining of their authority with their students. These concerns are understandable, particularly for professional instructors who make this their livelihood.
Yet, this is an area where I believe instructors have an obligation to the community as a whole. If we are going to argue for interpretations of historical technique, we owe it to the community to test our theories under pressure. If we are going to pass on technique to our students, and represent it as martially sound, we owe it to them to apply the touchstone described above: Can you pull it off under pressure, against an unfamiliar, uncooperative opponent?
As instructors, I believe we have an obligation to demonstrate our personal skills in public. In the absence of instructor certifications for WMA/HEMA (which are unlikely to be agreed upon anytime soon), this is one of the few ways we have of confirming an instructor's skill as a fighter. This includes confirmation that the instructor has a solid grasp of key elements of fighting, such as timing, distance management, body mechanics, and the like.
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Conclusion</u>
In closing, I believe that developing a sportive side to our art, with a tournament format that favors skilled fighting and the use of historical technique, is going to be critical to the growth of our community in the near future. I don't believe this is too hard to achieve; the only real issues are the best choice of weapon simulator, defining the requisite protective gear, and drafting the right rule sets. I think real progress is being made in all those directions.
Regards,
- Matt
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Matt Galas
Mons, Belgium"
