If I were to tell you that you’re going to read something about the relationship between martial arts and philosophy, you may think you’re going to read about some ancient traditions. Doing philosophy is stereotypically seen as an interpretation of the works of ancient Greeks like Aristotle or trying to live a stoic life. Another common stereotype is that practicing martial arts is the exercise of some ancient combat system with a heavy focus on spiritual self-growth like kung fu or karate. While some philosophers and martial artists certainly do those things, I don’t think it represents how these disciplines are practiced at the professional level by most people today. For instance, consider Timothy Williamson or Jon Jones, two of the greatest of each respective discipline.

In this piece, I want to discuss the parallels between these disciplines and in what ways they can contribute to each other. After reading this, I may motivate you to appreciate at least one of them; and if you’re into one of them already, you may be encouraged to try the other. To be clear, all this is from the limited perspective of my own journey into both worlds and with the focus on two contemporary approaches to each discipline. On the one hand, an intellectual tradition known as “analytic philosophy”; on the other hand, a combat sport known as “Mixed Martial Arts” (MMA). 

One of the things that got me into analytic philosophy was a deep sense of curiosity that no other intellectual discipline or tradition was able to satisfy. I don’t know of any other human effort that tackles the major questions about the nature of reality, mind, and value the way analytic philosophy does it today. Does God exist? Could I know anything given the possibility that I’m living in a simulation? Is consciousness nothing but a physical state of the brain? Does anything ultimately matter other than gene replication for evolutionary survival? No scientific discipline will answer these questions without philosophy. Some people say that philosophy doesn’t really provide any answers. I disagree; the problem is that it provides way too many. 

Similarly, what got me into MMA was the combat efficacy and sense of confidence that no other martial art seems able to provide in a weapon-free fighting setting. Ceteris paribus, if you’re good at boxing, an MMA fighter can take you down and submit you easily. If you’re a good wrestler, an MMA fighter can knock you out quickly. So, a good question to start with is, what makes analytic philosophy and MMA so special in their respective domains?

There is no silver bullet here. Philosophy can tackle fundamental questions that no science can, not because of some esoteric epistemic privilege, but because it combines conceptual analysis with different sciences as part of its methodology. The founding figures of analytic philosophy like Gottlob Frege, Bertrand Russell, Ludwig Wittgenstein, and, of course, the members of the Vienna Circle, were all deeply engaged with science tackling questions about the foundations of mathematics, and the limits of logical thought and truth (e.g., the work of Kurt Godel and Alfred Tarski). So, one of the distinctive features of contemporary analytic philosophy is the combination of abstract reasoning supported with formal frameworks (e.g., logic, semantics, decision theory) and empirical sciences (physics, cognitive neuroscience, evolutionary biology) as part of their toolbox. Nowadays, it’s common for metaphysicians in the analytic tradition to know advanced theoretical physics or higher-order logics, or to have philosophers of mind that are well-versed in cognitive psychology and computational neuroscience. 

Similarly, the distinctive feature of MMA has been the combination of the best combat systems. If you were into martial arts, you probably asked yourself at some point, what would happen if the best one in martial art X fights with the best one in martial art Y? The first UFC (former Pride FC), one of the founding promotion companies of MMA, envisioned a tournament to answer that question and put to test the best combat systems like traditional boxing, kickboxing, karate, and wrestling. Moreover, some disciplines made their world debut in those tournaments like Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ) represented by the Gracie family. Imagine a Jiu-Jitsu grappler submitting a boxer on the ground until he taps out (Royce Gracie vs Art Jimmerson, UFC 1). Those tournaments showed that to become a champion, the best strategy is to mix the martial arts, hence, MMA. Thus, a common approach in contemporary MMA is to have a solid foundation in striking (usually Muay Thai or boxing) and grappling (usually BJJ or some form of wrestling). Now, we can see that the success of both analytic philosophy and MMA rests on their interdisciplinary approach that defines them. Analytic philosophy does it by mixing our best epistemic practices (e.g., philosophy, history, logic, science) and MMA by mixing our best combat systems (e.g., Muay Thai and BJJ).

My journey into MMA started quite late in life. I did some traditional martial arts as a kid; and, more recently, I was getting some experience lifting weights and with calisthenics. From my naïve perspective, I thought I could be at least decent at MMA; yet, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The first time I stepped into the ring for a sparring session, I immediately got punched in the face and then got a solid front kick (what is known as a “teep”) on the solar plexus. I was helpless. Although I was a relatively good runner, my cardio couldn’t catch up with the pace and explosive strength required in a fight. It was a humbling experience inside the ring (and out), given the negative emotions and thoughts coming to your head afterwards. Interestingly, such an experience wasn’t new for me. 

I also started analytic philosophy relatively late, having first majored in psychology and then done a master in neuroscience. In my first discussion in a philosophy seminar, I thought my scientific background was sufficient to put me in good standing. Again, wrong. I couldn’t make fine-grained conceptual distinctions, not even distinguishing between sufficient and necessary conditions; or to quickly respond with counterexamples. Everyone’s train of thought was so fast and logically sharp. I felt dumb. Even years after, during my first talk, I remember receiving some devastating objections, with some even telling me that what I just said was nonsensical. 

Looking back, there isn’t much difference between getting an objection or a punch in the face. Both are painful, yet formative experiences. Of course, it takes some time to get used to getting hit or to someone telling you that what you’re saying is false. You also must learn how to manage your emotions in the process. We hence come to the second major parallel between these disciplines: analytic philosophy and MMA embrace combat as an inherent aspect of their respective practices. Believe it or not, not every martial art does so. You hardly spar in Karate as you do in MMA or boxing; in the latter, pressure testing isn’t optional, it’s the way to go if you want to improve. Likewise, a standard session in an analytic philosophy seminar is a battlefield of arguments and objections. Not a great place to be if you have a fragile ego, but it’s probably the only way to get better. That’s why sparring is typically at the core of the philosophical training in Ph.D. programs aimed at preparing you for research in academia. For example, if you present a new theory at a professional talk, but nobody has an objection, even if the theory is true, it’s probably a trivial theory. And to be clear, if you think MMA is all brute force while philosophy is all reasoning, you probably have never entered the octagon. In an MMA fight, there is a lot of computation going on, commonly as “fight IQ.” You must calculate every move, manage the appropriate distance, control the timing of attacks, determine the best way to throw the next jab and avoid getting counterpunched; or how to escape a joint lock while on the ground. This is shown in the case of John Danaher, one of the best coaches in the world of martial arts who worked along people like Gordon Ryan and George St Pierre, and did a Ph.D. in philosophy before entering the MMA world: the signature of his coaching style is the logical analysis of fighting. So, a lot of the combativeness in both disciplines involve forms of logical reasoning. 

The last parallel I want to mention is related to the values of each discipline. During my journey into philosophy, I explored other traditions and disciplines where, unfortunately, raising objections against a famous professor was considered disrespectful. There was a sense of epistemic authority based on the academic ranking that in combination with an obscure technical jargon discouraged everybody from asking questions. In contrast, one of the things that made me fall in love with analytic philosophy was its laid-back and rather iconoclastic nature. If you have something to say, no matter how devastating to the other’s theory, you are encouraged to say it regardless of your status. In fact, one remarkable moment in the history of analytic philosophy is when, in the 70s, the young mathematician Saul Kripke, without a Ph.D. or any degree in philosophy, gave a series of three philosophical lectures at Princeton on the nature of proper names that produced a paradigm shift within the discipline changing it ever since (see his work Naming and Necessity).

Similarly, traditional martial arts rely a lot on ranking systems (especially belts). However, it’s not unusual to hear about dojos in which no one dares challenging the old master, where they offer you the ultimate combat system, yet they wouldn’t put it to test in sparring. Frequently, in these disciplines, reverence has priority over skillfulness. This isn’t the case for disciplines like MMA, where there are no belts. If you’re good enough, it will show up in sparring. The value of skill over reverence is related to the pressure-testing aspect that I’ve mentioned. Both in analytic philosophy and MMA, if your work is genuinely good, it has the potential to speak for itself either in a peer-review process for a good journal, or in a world-class tournament like ONE or UFC. In fact, one remarkable moment in the history of martial arts is when, in the early 90s, the underdog Royce Gracie, an expert of BJJ from Brazil, tapped out every fighter in the first UFC and, not only became its first champion, but also changed the discipline of MMA forever. 

Beyond the parallels, can analytic philosophy and MMA contribute to each other? To answer, it’s worth mentioning one key difference. Unlike a pure combat discipline like MMA that aims at defeating somebody, philosophy must have a different normative goal than winning a debate, otherwise it would be mere sophistry. Although it sounds romantic or outdated, philosophy is an explanatory project that aims at truth, knowledge, or something near enough. This means that in philosophy, your opponent is not another philosopher but the logical possibilities against your theory. So, it’s not enough to debate by efficiently replying to someone else’s objections, philosophers have to imagine a hypothetical opponent that can put to test your theory in a way that nobody has done before. I think MMA fighters could benefit from this approach. 

At the other end of the spectrum, I think analytic philosophy would not only benefit from incorporating the training discipline of MMA, but also its public reach. MMA has been very successful in being available to a wider audience and inspiring people, something analytic philosophy isn’t particularly well-known for. This is unfortunate since I believe it has so much to offer beyond academia. For instance, while MMA can offer you the best skill set available for self-defense, philosophy provides the best skill set available for critical reasoning. Plus—like watching MMA—doing philosophy is a lot of fun.

So, to draw some lessons from the parallels between philosophy and MMA, we can say that having the basis of interdisciplinarity, the combativeness of style, and the value of skillfulness over reverence as pillars can make a huge difference in developing a successful practice. Moreover, perhaps the interaction between philosophy and MMA can also teach us that having the goals of truth and entertainment isn’t something incompatible.  

I want to thank my former philosophy professor Eduardo Villanueva (also a big fan of MMA), my brother Franco, and my coaches at Barranko Muay Thai in Lima (Perú) for introducing me to those worlds.

The post Mixed Martial Thoughts: On Philosophy and MMA first appeared on Blog of the APA.

Read the full article which is published on APA Online (external link)