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The Illusion of Fighting

January 8, 2025/0 Comments/in Rabbit v. Wolf/by Chris Ranck-Buhr

Violence starts at the top of the stairs—and only goes in one direction.

The back-and-forth that people seek in violence comes from two different ideas: 1) self-defense, and 2) a sport- and media-reinforced expectation of back-and-forth.

“Self-defense” says nothing about the other person. There’s just the self, and then working to keep yourself from harm. As an operational construct this kind of thinking makes it difficult to reach out into the fog beyond the borders of your own personal space and make the switch to you doing things to him. Think of the focus of effort as imaginary arrows—when you’re worried about what’s going to happen to you, some of the arrows point back at yourself, and retard the flow of focus outward (the arrows pointing at him, for things like actually hurting him). This gums up the whole process and has you working at cross-purposes. When both people are doing this, it looks like a classic “fight”.

The lucky thing for all of us—in terms of living a relatively peaceful life—is that very few people have experience with real, effective violence. This means that the vast majority take their cues for how violence works from sport and movies. In sport, the goal is to have a competition, to determine a winner through a process of rules—not to resort to the state of nature and put someone in the hospital or morgue. The perfect match would have both competitors able to compete again, and soon. In movies, real violence is too quick to build any kind of dramatic tension, and would be over before you looked back up from your popcorn. It is necessary, then, to have the engagement go on long enough to catch your attention, ratchet up the stakes, and build the drama toward a satisfying catharsis (the hero wins—or loses if we’re in the second act).

Effective violence is “nasty, brutish, and short”. It’s over before it really gets started, and ends up being shockingly anticlimactic. It only goes in one direction, driven by the person causing harm. (All arrows pointing in the same direction through him.) This is why the motto of violence is the opposite of the Hippocratic Oath: primum nocere (“first do harm”). Initial contact needs to be pathological, and then we stay close to do it again… and again… and again… We shove him down the stairs and then stay right on top of him to make sure he interacts with every step. We are the shove, we are the steps, we are gravity. We never part—we only meet, over and over again, until we are done.

We can see this in videos of effective violence—contact, overrun, stomping—which is exactly what we want our mat time to look and feel like.

— Chris Ranck-Buhr

The Terror of Competition, the Pleasure of Predation

August 27, 2024/0 Comments/in Competition/by Chris Ranck-Buhr

A man approaches you on the street with a proposition: “See that guy over there?” He indicates a big, strapping fellow, his six-foot-four frame enrobed in 300 pounds of muscle. “He’s coming over here to wrestle you to the ground and choke you out for a million dollars. If you can pin him instead, I’ll give you the million.”

“B-but,” you stammer, “I don’t want to wrestle him!”

The man sniffs. “Doesn’t matter—he wants the million. Here he comes—best of luck!”

How does it feel to suddenly have this contest thrust upon you? To have to worry about your performance, and how it will stack up to his experience level? For all you know, he could be very good at wrestling—and even if you, yourself, are no slouch in the ring, he’s clearly way outside your weight class. And much, much stronger. As he begins to sprint toward you, you notice he’s a lot faster, too.

How’s it feel now?

Let’s try a different tack: Same setup, except the man says, “All you have to do is touch him, and I’ll give you the million instead.”

Feel any different?

How about if we qualify that touch a bit: “All you have to do is break something inside of him.” And you’ll get the million.

In the first case, the contest is sprung upon you, you’re not prepared, you’re being asked to compete with the man’s physical size and athletic ability. You’re being asked to perform at a level most of us can’t reach. You’re being asked to compete in such a way that is clearly unfair, and puts you at a disadvantage.

We could just as easily set up a scenario where you are suddenly tasked with debating international monetary policy, before an audience, with someone who may or may not be a Nobel laureate in economics. We’ve all got the basic tools, the components to compete in such a contest—we can speak out loud, we have experience with finances and money in general—and yet, the idea makes me sweat. Most of us can expect to get hammered and humiliated, everything we say twisted back on us with a sneer and derisive laughter from the audience.

In the second case where “all you have to do is touch him,” there is no performance pressure—we can all reach out and touch the guy, even if he wants to wrestle us. In fact, there’s really no way you can lose—how can he wrestle you down and choke you out without you touching him at some point? It’s so simple it’s ridiculous.

And sure, that “touch” can easily be used to break something inside of him, as in the slightly more difficult scenario. We all know he can’t successfully wrestle you without you crushing his groin or gouging an eye at some point. Everything he would want to do just pulls you in nice and close to those delicate anatomical features. Another easy win.

All of the above highlights another distinct difference between competition and violence—that impending competition brings with it performance anxiety as you realize you will be required to pit your skill against unknown thresholds: What if he’s the better wrestler, or speaker? It’s the worry that your meager skills will be outclassed.

When we remove the competition and go instead to a win condition that is not dependent on unknown thresholds (i.e., nothing about the man factors into the equation) there is no dread or anxiety.

Now, I know what you’re thinking—what about performance anxiety around getting violence done? Well, how anxious did you feel about merely touching the guy, really? Outside of counting coup, did your anxiety increase when it was qualified as causing an injury? If the answer is yes, then

YOU’RE STILL LOOKING AT VIOLENCE AS COMPETITION.

Violence, as the absence of competition, has no performance anxiety component. It really is just touching, if we mean it in the same way that we would smash a soda can flat, or slam a car door, or break a stick on the curb. The physics and biomechanics involved are all the same. Any considerations beyond that are imaginary. Hang ups, if you will.

As with pretty much everything in this work, the solution is mat time. It’s the second-best place to learn that competition has nothing to do with anything in violence, that size, speed, and strength have no bearing on who wins and who dies. Those who still view violence as a form of competition, a high-stakes one, act hesitantly on the mats; they keep their distance (even when they think they’re penetrating), flinch, hide and otherwise give poor reactions, and rarely employ body weight. They behave as if they are fundamentally frightened of what’s going on. Which they are.

Those who have figured it out by physically burning the idea out of their heads with hours of mat time throw themselves into the work with great relish, applying themselves bodily to every problem presented to them. The physical realization that violence is about a failure to compete, an end-run around competition, is liberating. Gone is the worry about being big enough, fast enough, or strong enough. The other person’s skill counts for absolutely nothing. It’s all about you, and only you. The other person is prey to be taken, meat to be butchered. The pressure’s off and you’re free to do as you will.

You’re exercising your legacy as a predator—and by all accounts, predation is pleasurable.

— Chris Ranck-Buhr (from 2008)

Hitter or Quitter?

August 19, 2024/0 Comments/in Social-Asocial/by Chris Ranck-Buhr

Most of what goes on in martial arts and combat sports works because people quit. They quit because it hurts, or because they’re exhausted, or because they start to listen to the little voice that’s telling them everything will be a lot better if they’d just give up and give in. More often than not it’s a combination of all these things at once; the question gets asked often enough, with each blow, “Why don’t you just quit?”, until they hit that personal threshold and just can’t take it anymore.

Any technique that isn’t about career-ending, crippling injury is about compliance, about making the person submit—trying to convince them to quit. This is fine when the outcome isn’t critical, when what happens next is nice and social. It’s great for competition and the dojo. In fact, without this, sport becomes impossible, filled with sickening “accidents” and truncated careers; the dojo runs out of students as they succumb, one by one, to the brutal endpoint of their training.

Relying on your ability to make people quit, to have a higher pain tolerance, better conditioning, and an indomitable will—to outlast your foe while working them to the point where they cave—will get you killed in the place where those things don’t matter. If your would-be murderer is a quitter at heart, chances are you’ll be fine. But if they aren’t… if they don’t care about pain, or how tired they are, or if they lack that little voice that the sane call caution, well, then they’re not going to quit. Unless you know how to remove choice from the equation, they’re going to kill you. Even if it takes them a little bit of work to get you there.

If they’re a killer, they know it’s not about making you quit. They know it’s not about technique, or speed, or strength. It’s about results. They won’t waste their time engaging or setting you up. They’ll go straight for those results, breaking you, shutting you down to the point where there’s nothing you can do—not even quit—they’ll remove choice from the equation and treat you like meat to be butchered.

Your only hope is to know how to get those results, too—to know why those results happen so you can make them happen every single time, and get it done first. Toughness, bravado, ego, superior technique—these things mean nothing in violence. Going against a killer when the prize is your life is no time to hope for the best with a suitcase full of techniques you don’t fully understand—techniques that you hope will work but can’t articulate why they do. If you don’t know, with surety, the result you’re gunning for, and why that result occurs, you’re out of your league when it comes to violence.

And in violence there are only two kinds of people: those who know what they’re doing—precisely—and the dead.

— Chris Ranck-Buhr (from 2008)

Access the Meat

May 14, 2024/1 Comment/in Competition/by Chris Ranck-Buhr

Choosing the level of interaction in violent conflict.

One of the key features of the sociopath is that they see everyone as essentially the same—a piece of meat to be butchered. Sociopaths look at everyone this way, regardless of personality, skill, or ability: a big strong guy with a black belt looks the same as a sleeping child. The sociopath understands that both their skulls open the same way, their eyes yield to equal pressure, and they both die when their throats are cut.

The sociopath disregards the things that set them apart, and won’t waste time interfacing with their personalities, or the big strong guy’s black belt skill, or his massive muscles. They will only concentrate on the things that both victims are susceptible to. In order to use violence successfully, in order to have an equal chance of survival, so must you. Don’t get caught in the sucker’s game of interfacing at higher levels, of showing respect for the person, their skills, or physical power. Go straight for the meat.

The Four Levels of Interaction

As a person – social

This is trying to change behavior, mood, or motivation. This is where most people would like to keep the situation.

As a skill set – antisocial

This is trying to out-wrestle him, or out-technique him in a 90-mile-an-hour chess game. This is a duel in which the most skilled practitioner will typically win. It is “civilized violence” and seen as “fighting fair”.

As an animal (via strength, speed, stamina) – antisocial

This is pitting your strength against his, trying to out-maneuver or out-last him, going blow for blow—this typically looks pretty brutal and ugly. A lot of struggle where the best specimen prevails. This is seen as brutish, desperate, and decidedly “uncivilized”.

As a piece of meat – asocial

This is regarding him as a physical object beholden to the natural laws of the universe. Paying no heed to the person, the skill, or the ability. This is seen as almost universally “bad”—people who do this naturally are classified as “evil” in a social setting. This is interfacing with him as a thing that can be broken down and rendered nonfunctional.

It’s interesting to note that these four levels correspond to different ranges and comfort zones.

Interfacing with the person can be done from across the street, a distance from trouble where most people feel safe (they can always take off running if it gets out of hand).

Interfacing with his skill set is almost always done at a pace away, with the contestants circling to get a feel for their opponent’s skill level, feinting and parrying and otherwise dancing around. It’s all about giving yourself enough room to see what he’s doing and try to counter it.

Interfacing with his physical abilities is done skin-to-skin, but that’s as deep as it goes.

Interfacing with the frailties of the flesh is done beneath the skin—true injury is about disregarding the sanctity of the body and simply destroying it.

What-ifs, Buts and Maybes

The kinds of questions people ask during training can tell you a lot about where their head is at and at which level they’re stuck on. The important thing to note is that none of their worries have any impact on injury whatsoever.

The “Socialist”

The person who is uncomfortable with the whole idea of conflict will ask questions that dance around the issue from across the street, like, “How can I tell if he wants to hurt me?” and such.

The Duelist

People trained in martial arts usually get hung up on interfacing with his skill. They’ll ask the most what-ifs, like, “What if he throws a spinning back kick?”, “What if he counters my joint lock?” and “What if he’s holding the knife like this?” They are also overly concerned about defensive reactions like blocking and counters—both in doing it and worrying about having it done to them.

The Animal

Untrained people who can come to terms with the idea of conflict usually end up fixated on physical attributes. For smaller, less athletic people it manifests as worry about how they’ll fare against bigger, stronger, faster adversaries; big, strong folks have the opposite problem—they typically believe they cannot be defeated by “lesser” beings.

Sociopaths & Butchers

Almost no one shows up comfortable with injury as a starting point.

Another interesting thing to note is that progressing through the levels is not linear. Socialists don’t usually walk through the others to arrive at injury. They go one of two ways—either they dig in their heels and cram their heads into the sand and will never, ever cross the street, or they go straight from where they are to injury (though sometimes with a short stopover at the animal level).

Duelists are another thing entirely. It is often very difficult to wean them off of the idea that they need to respect and/or thwart his skill before they can be effective. If they do move on, it’s usually with a long stopover at the animal level. His skill bothered them before; now they’ve transferred that worry to his physical abilities. Those who have taken the long walk from skill to animal to injury are typically the most evangelical about the whole process. (As opposed to those who went straight from social to injury. They usually don’t see the whole experience as that big of a deal.)

Animals are easier to nudge into interfacing directly with the meat of the matter. They’re pretty close, conceptually, and they just need to be shown how to direct their efforts away from strong points and into the weak ones. (Instead of going strength-to-strength, go strength-to-eyeball.)

If you’re reading this, I’m going to assume that you don’t have a problem with violence in a general sense, that you’re not hung up on the social aspects from across the street. So where are your hang-ups? What are you stuck on? Are you worried about what he’ll do if he’s skilled? Or bigger-stronger-faster? Be honest with yourself. You’re letting yourself down if you lie—you’re not going to get any more effective that way.

If the idea of going after a trained Goliath makes you sweat (more than the usual, healthy amount, I mean) then you need to buckle down and study up on injury. Seek out photos of sports injuries (for broken joints and twisted, nonfunctioning limbs). Autopsy reports from non-firearm killings—especially where the victim was beaten to death—are illuminating. Troll the internet for videos of prison fights and violent muggings. Essentially, look for anything where the survivor is interacting with the other person as a piece of meat.

You’ll be repulsed and comforted simultaneously.

– Chris Ranck-Buhr (from 2006)

Cry Foul and Let Slip the Dogs of War

April 30, 2024/0 Comments/in Injury/by Chris Ranck-Buhr

Using UFC fouls as the basis for operational success in violence.

Contrary to popular belief, combat sports are not about injury. In fact, they go to great lengths to make the contest as “safe” as possible so that competitors can have lucrative careers that generate profits for a good chunk of time. A rotating stable of fighters makes more money than having people get functionally retired every time they lose a 10-second match. The 27 fouls in the UFC are specifically designed to make debilitating injury the least likely outcome—for our purposes, this makes the list a pretty good roadmap for what to do first in violence. It turns out that not all the fouls are useful guideposts; some are definite yesses, fewer are iffy, and two are flat-out wrong. Here they are, with commentary:

DEFINITE YESSES

2. Eye gouging of any kind.
9. Fingers outstretched toward an opponent’s face/eyes.
The eyes are one of the three targets that don’t require body weight for serious injury. A pinky nail across the cornea is all that’s needed to blind someone. And to quote Master Derrick, “Violence is the race for the eye.”

5. Hair pulling.
See 19, below.

6. Spiking an opponent to the canvas on his head or neck.
Your doctor would tell you to never, ever do this. Especially if by “canvas” you mean “parking lot”.

7. Strikes to the spine or the back of the head.
‘Nuff said.

8. Throat strikes of any kind, and/or grabbing the trachea.
The trachea is the second of three that do not require body weight for injury; grip strength gets it done.

10. Downward-pointing elbow strike (12 o’clock to 6 o’clock strike).
This is contraindicated due to “accidental” body weight transfer. Downward means gravity-assisted, which means falling body weight; using the elbow rather than the lower arm or hand means the removal of strength as a factor. This changes it from a punch to a strike (as we define it). The point of the elbow is the smallest, hardest striking surface. Add it all up and you have people “accidentally” doing an ideal strike. Line it up with a target (oh, like the spine or neck of a grounded person) and you have a guaranteed fight-ender.

11. Groin attacks of any kind.
The groin is the last of the “Anti-Wrasslin’ Trifecta”—no body weight required to cause serious injury. Get a fistful of soft tissue and haul yourself into your next target. Better phrased as “Groin attacks of every kind.”

12. Kneeing and/or kicking the head of a grounded opponent.
13. Stomping a grounded opponent.
Again, the “accidental” inclusion of body weight, driven home by leg strength and front-ended by a part of your body that’s meant for rough business (your foot). All that effort is back-ended by the planet—the body has no way of moving to dissipate the force—meaning all the work comes out inside anatomy. Could result in actual, fight-ending injury.

14. Holding opponent’s gloves or shorts.
Falls under the aegis of 5, above, and 19, below. Useless in isolation, brilliant in conjunction with a throw.

15. Holding or grabbing the fence or ropes with fingers or toes.
Typically employed when stomping or kicking a downed person. Adds leverage and improves follow-through.

16. Small joint “manipulation”.
(Quotes mine.) As long as this is really code for “breaking fingers”, I’m all for it. Personally, if I were going to use code, I’d say something like “forcible removal of all future piano concertos.”

17. Throwing an opponent out of the ring/fighting area.
Okay, bear with me on this one. I take it to mean “throwing into a not-nice place” like a fire hydrant. Or a plate glass window. Or traffic.

19. Clawing, pinching or twisting the flesh.
By itself, this doesn’t make the cut, as it’s simply painful. As an adjunct to something vicious (like a throw or joint break) it’s wonderful. To the trained operator the human body is like a jumpsuit with handles all over it. Except that the handles are all sewn into the bones…

22. Flagrant disregarding of the referee’s instructions.
Violence is the time to jettison those pesky social mores. You are free to do as you will, beholden only to the physical laws of the universe.

23. Unsportsmanlike conduct that causes injury to an opponent.
Goes without saying.

24. Attacking an opponent after the bell has sounded the end of the period of unarmed combat.
25. Attacking an opponent on or during the break.
26. Attacking an opponent who is under the care of the referee.
AKA “attacking unexpectedly”. But isn’t that the best time?

27. Interference from a mixed martial artist’s corner or seconds.
Yes, your mates are free to pitch in. Many hands make light work, and all that.

IFFY

1. Butting with the head.
Goes without saying. Can it work? Sure. Ask a Scotsman… from a distance. Is it a good idea? Hardly.

3. Biting or spitting at an opponent.
Three little words: BLOOD-BORNE PATHOGENS. Can it work? Sure. As an omega option. I bet you ten bucks you can figure out something better to do first.

4. Fish hooking.
I actually know a guy who was in a headlock and went for the eyes and missed and ended up fish-hooking the guy instead. It did make the guy let go. This is anecdotal and your mileage may vary. The danger of getting your fingers chewed should dissuade you.

18. Intentionally placing a finger into any orifice or any cut or laceration of an opponent.
Again, this is just discomfort. But if we take it to mean “rolling ‘em over with a broken arm” then I’m all for it.

20. Timidity, including, without limitation, avoiding contact with an opponent, intentionally or consistently dropping the mouthpiece or faking an injury.
This one’s iffy. I take it to mean “social manipulation to gain advantage” (see 24-26, above). But that would only really apply in antisocial situations, wouldn’t it?

FLAT-OUT NO EFFIN’ WAY

21. Using abusive language in the fighting area.
Once you break the social plane and cross over into violence, there is no communication.

AND THE ONE THAT’S NO LONGER A FOUL FOR SOME REASON

X. Throwing in the towel during “competition”.
(Quotes mine.) In violence if you quit, you die. End of story.

— Chris Ranck-Buhr (from 2006, revised 2021)

Spiritual Enlightenment, Competition, and the One-Way Street of Violence

March 7, 2024/0 Comments/in Competition/by Chris Ranck-Buhr

Note: Another one from 2006, so the argument is rough-hewn. I make the same points better, later—but this stands as a hopefully interesting artifact showing the genesis of my thought process.

Violence and How It Relates to Its Social Children: Martial Arts and Combat Sports

Violence is eons older than polite society. It had long been the dominant tool of last resort before anything even remotely human strode the savannah. But once we were here and began to pull together and organize against this hostile environment we call home, it became crucial to put limits on violence within society; you can’t build a pyramid if everyone’s busy choking each other out.

We added rules, decided society-by-society when it was appropriate and when it was not, who could do it to whom, and the state sanctioned the use of the tool on those who broke the rules.

This is the necessary order of history.

Violence, then, gave rise to traditional martial arts, which in turn produced combat sports. Makes sense, right?

It’s not so clear-cut to everyone. If I had a steel penny for every time I’ve heard someone refer to our training as being just like this or that martial art or a “really brutal” version of combat sports, I’d be able to fire torpedoes full of cash down on Bill Gates’ head from my solid-gold orbital railgun.*

Because the family tree goes

rock to the head –> crane style –> wrestling match

and not the other way around, this view is a funny one.

What we do is not the next step in the evolution of modern martial arts; it’s a return to the root of the whole matter. “Back to basics,” if you will.

Martial Arts: An Empty Bottle of Violence with a Child-Proof Cap

Long ago, the martial arts were the initial attempt to codify and keep knowledge of violence to train elite troops. As time went on and the schools got further and further from that original purpose—training for war—the teaching was more and more diluted with philosophy and religion. As well it should be—it’s wasn’t necessarily a Good Idea to train the average person in the skills of total war.

Instead, martial arts staked a claim to the foggy gray expanse of the antisocial realm: how to behave when dealing with social belligerents. Or, more plainly, how to be the best damn bar fighter to ever sit a stool.

This is the area that martial arts are famous for: “How do I deal with a drunk?”

It all starts with a bunch of rules on social decorum—essentially a checklist of social tools to try and defuse the antisocial bomb. When all that has been tried, and failed, then comes the fighting stance and perhaps a verbal warning: the stripe on the skunk, the cat arching its back and hissing. Then comes blocking, and “techniques” designed to convince the unruly to quit: punches, kicks, joint locks, etc., etc.

For the most part, it works. Martial arts have taken ownership of the antisocial realm and worked very hard to give practitioners a road map to navigate all the pitfalls and minefields. And if the situation is truly just antisocial in nature, blocking, punches, kicks, joint locks, etc., work well.

Combat Sports: Violence Made Palatable

Thanks to the internet, media that used to take some effort to get are now readily available—like video clips of unrestrained violence. There is, however, little interest in such things. Sane people cannot stomach real violence—we literally have a gut reaction to it. And it’s unpleasant.

Movies that attempt to recreate real-world violence—with an unflinching eye and no stylistic embellishments—make people leave the theater.

But what if we could make violence palatable? What if we could titillate and tease with just enough action to excite the predator within us all while maintaining enough padding to keep from scaring the higher-order functions?

Let’s say we put rules on it and make it a contest of strength, skill, and will instead of maiming and killing. I bet people would pay money to see that.

And they do.

But still we’re sickened when someone actually breaks an arm or loses an eye.

That’s because obvious, crippling injury is coloring outside the lines—it’s not social anymore. As long as we can all enjoy the sensation of watching the schoolyard tussle without crossing over into the schoolyard shooting, we’ll pay to play.

Violence: Not Just “Anything Goes” but “Do Your Worst”

What we strive to teach you is not just martial arts knobbed up to 11 or combat sports without the rules—it’s to get back to the genesis of all the rest of that stuff. It’s back to basics.

When people think of violence as martial arts gone wild, they are trying to drag an antisocial tool into the asocial. To be metaphorical, it’s like trying to use a crowbar as a lockpick—wrong tool for the job. To be more concrete, it’s like putting out your hand and shouting “No!” to dissuade a sociopath from killing you.

Wrong tool for the job, indeed.

When people think of violence as “combat sports without the rules” they’re also missing the point. Again, they’re thinking of violence as “anything goes” when it’s actually “do your worst.” While it sounds like pencil-necked semantics, it’s really a chilling distinction.

“Anything goes” means you can do anything, and when left to their own devices people will tend to choose non-awful things. Innate squeamishness will keep sane people away from the eyes, as seen in periorbital scratching, where people who were being strangled to death—murdered—chose to scratchat the eyes rather than dig them out. What other situation, outside of your own murder, could be more “anything goes”?

Violence, on the other hand, is “do your worst”, as in “go straight to the end of the list, pick the most godawful thing, and start there.” It means you will start by taking the person’s eye, then break their leg to drop them, and stomp them like you’re making an apocalyptic vintage from the grapes of wrath. No ifs, ands, or buts, no veering off from the socially unacceptable, the horrible, or the sickening. In fact, those things are your stock in trade. They are the tools you use—not “techniques”.

In violence you don’t best the person or even win—you do horrible, sickening, awful things to them. You do them first, without hesitation and without stopping out of pity or horror.

Is it really any wonder, then, that our ancestors sought to minimize and hobble violence with social constraints, limits, and rules?

— Chris Ranck-Buhr (from 2007, footnote 2020)

*Do you have any idea how much it costs to get a solid-gold, steel-jacketed I-beam into orbit? $227,057,702 in 2020 dollars. Yeah, I did the math.

Tag Archive for: combat sports

The Illusion of Fighting

The Terror of Competition, the Pleasure of Predation

Cry Foul and Let Slip the Dogs of War

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