As a martial art/combat sport, taekwondo has gone through several transformations. Each generation of practitioners is plagued by critics who express disdain for anything new.That’s to be expected. However, I must say that I agree to a certain extent with those who are unhappy with the current state of the art. As practiced in some locations, taekwondo has devolved from a wonderful martial art into an ineffective sport. If this continues, it may result in the marginalization of taekwondo.
The Slide
The majority of what’s written about the martial arts falls into the how-to category. Most authors are practitioners and therefore focus on the technical aspects of their style. They laud its self-defense potential while promoting its benefits for self-development.
For much of history, these claims went unchallenged. Each art existed in a vacuum, and little was done to shine a light into the darkness that surrounded any of them. Then in 1993, the world as we know it changed. That’s when the UFC was born.
In this new format of competition, all martial artists were welcome. The bouts were full contact, and very few techniques were illegal. Any athlete had the opportunity to bring his best game and let the winner be determined through the process of elimination.
What followed in the octagon is of little importance to the discussion at hand. The purpose of this article is not to determine whether one martial art is superior to another. It’s to examine what the goals of a modern martial art — specifically, taekwondo — should be.
Historically, both sports and martial arts have been regarded as paths to self-development. A primary benefit of training has been the improvement of the individual and the betterment of society. Furthermore, it’s widely believed that the physical training has a profound positive effect on the mental and spiritual components of the practitioner.
The Expectations
Taekwondo as a sport has always prided itself on the physicality of its competitions. Athletes wear little or no protective gear and compete in a full-contact format that allows and actually rewards head kicks. The original intent of this was to distinguish taekwondo from predominantly punching arts like karate and boxing.
Taekwondo, with its focus on full-contact kicking and allowance of knockouts, offered a unique form of fighting, one that validated the technical acumen of athletes. It also created a no-nonsense environment in which practitioners needed to undergo hardcore training to withstand the rigors of competition. Along the way, they devised better ways to maximize the effectiveness of their kicks.
Fast-forward to the present: Taekwondo is one of many combat sports. MMA, the most prominent member of this group, has cast a shadow over its less-telegenic predecessor. MMA appeals to viewers, who tend to crave easily understandable sports that don’t require expertise or a practitioner’s perspective to enjoy. Meanwhile, sport taekwondo’s increasing complexity with respect to techniques and scoring have made it even less user-friendly.
This latter observation hasn’t been lost on the leaders of sport taekwondo. Since its addition to the 1988 Olympics, taekwondo has struggled with the demands of the International Olympic Committee. It’s my opinion that taekwondo’s continued inclusion in the Games has come at great cost — to the sport and the art. Among those costs was the appointment of a new master for taekwondo: the IOC’s executive board.
Another cost has been bad publicity. In recent years, there have been numerous incidents involving poor refereeing and poor sportsmanship. The reports that resulted helped create a lackluster competition format in which players clinch excessively and don’t engage sufficiently, and that has caused concern among taekwondo’s leaders.
Many of the problems stem from the electronic chest protectors used in Olympic competition. They were adopted to standardize scoring, which is laudable. How- ever, used in conjunction with them is a multitiered scoring system. No longer is it necessary to create “trembling shock” or displacement of body mass to score a point. One merely has to engage the opponent and place a foot on his or her chest protector with sufficient contact and adequate duration, which closes the circuit and registers a point.
A bigger problem involves head kicks. No longer are such techniques judged for power. All that’s required is contact. The result is that athletes don’t need to kick with proper technique; they merely need to lift their leg to touch their opponent’s head to score.
Several questions must be asked: Did these changes have a positive or negative effect on the sport and the martial art as a whole? Moreover, is there a way to serve two masters — the IOC and taekwondo purists — without alienating either or both? Finally, if the goals of each group are so disparate, is there enough commonality to allow modern taekwondo to flourish and grow?
The Purpose
I would argue that taekwondo’s value proposition is not contingent on its effectiveness in combat or self-defense. In reality, most parents choose taekwondo for their children to enrich their development of life skills. Discipline, confidence, humility, determination, patience and perseverance are a few of the attributes parents hope to cultivate in their kids. The good news is that regardless of the rigors and challenges of Olympic-style training and competition, the martial art of taekwondo will continue to deliver on this promise.
The issue that remains is this: What effects have the quest to keep taekwondo in the Olympics had on that value proposition? There’s no doubt that great amounts of time, energy and money have been spent to maintain its Olympic status. In fact, some might argue that the focus on this has hindered the advancement of the players’ skills.
As I mentioned, before taekwondo’s Olympic aspirations, most energy went to attempting to differentiate it from other martial arts, especially karate. The scoring system reflected the central values of taekwondo as a martial art: by rewarding kicking and ignoring hand techniques. The moves needed to be powerful, and knockouts were encouraged. Head kicks, of course, were the preferred method for those knockouts. Furthermore, intricate kick combinations were crafted and used. Points were awarded only if a proper technique with proper power and proper focus landed on the proper target.
So the question is, What changed and why?
The Problem
Taekwondo needed to appeal to the masses, and it needed to be welcomed by the risk-adverse IOC. Unfortunately, the scoring system didn’t seem to reflect what spectators saw during matches. This didn’t concern the purists, but it proved detrimental to the effort to globalize the sport of taekwondo.
For any sport to enjoy mass appeal, it needs to be easily understandable and exciting to watch — and, some might argue, have an element of danger. If these conditions are met, the public will clamor for the sport, and that means advertisers and sponsors will invest. There’s great pres- sure on sports in general to fill stadiums and engage TV viewers so profits can be maximized.
The effect this had on taekwondo was significant. The scoring system was changed to allow more points to register. The required contact level was lowered. A warning system was instituted to punish those who didn’t attack or appeared to stall. As so often happens, the cure had unintended consequences.
First, athletes who’d normally be forced to commit to a technique to reach the power threshold could now simply kick with more speed to earn a point. This was a significant departure from the premise that taekwondo was a full-contact martial art — one in which, absent the chest protector, a fighter would be severely injured. Now the chest protector was relegated to delineating target areas. It was no longer necessary for protection.
The second unintended consequence: The balance between offensive and defensive techniques was altered. Speed and touch — as opposed to power and body dis- placement — were rewarded. One need look no further than the 2012 Olympic Games, in which electronic chest protectors were used. The protector could not discern between a properly executed taekwondo kick and the simple contact that resulted when a foot hit the sensor. Any point that was scored electronically could not be challenged. In virtually every match, taekwondo purists could see perfectly executed kicks that didn’t score on the electronic protector, as well as poorly executed techniques that did.
Also in play was the new head-kick rule. Scoring no longer depended on the amount of contact or the nature of the technique; it rewarded any contact from virtually any technique that struck the face or helmet.
At this point, it’s essential to note the impetus for those changes. Over several world championships and Olympic events, critics of taekwondo had pointed out the lack of consistency and the seemingly biased results involving various countries and nationalities. The World Tae- kwondo Federation, in an attempt to correct this, altered the rules.
The Result
In the past, taekwondo athletes were forced to train with proper technique and powerful execution if they wanted to score in competition. Points were not awarded for a mediocre technique executed poorly or a good technique executed without power. In current competitions, how- ever, athletes train with the electronic chest protectors so they can learn how to score points on it. Any contact that registers is then deemed a valid technique. Thus, an electronic device is defining what a proper technique is.
Yet another change has impacted sport taekwondo. The WTF technical committee adopted a multitiered scoring system designed to reward techniques based on their difficulty and the purists’ vision of what taekwondo should be. A body kick was now awarded one point. If it was a turning kick to the body, it received an added point. A jumping technique received an additional point. A head kick received three points.
I, along with Steven Capener, Ph.D., created and then championed this effort, which was adopted by the general membership and used in the world championship and the Olympic Games. Our logic was that it would be better to reward techniques that require more skill. Additionally, we wanted to continue to encourage head kicks, so we crafted a rule that rewarded athletes for attempting more difficult techniques even though that might leave them vulnerable to counterattack. Here’s the rationale:
Under previous rules, a head kick and a body kick were scored the same. However, a roundhouse to the head is more prone to being countered with a body kick, and it requires more energy and better timing to execute. When both are scored equally, a smart competitor will opt for the less-risky body kick. However, once the scoring dynamic shifted to reward head kicks, the value proposition changed. Athletes are now willing to attempt a head kick — even though they can be countered with a body counterkick — because they might receive three points as opposed to one.
This simple change has had a profound effect on the behavior of athletes and on the public’s perception of sport taekwondo. Practitioners are attempting more high-level techniques because they know they’ll be rewarded. It’s made competition more exciting for the public and thus more attractive to sponsors.
Before I move on, I must concede that the electronic chest protector has had one positive effect on taekwondo: It’s leveled the playing field. The protector is politically blind and doesn’t care about nation of origin or past performance. Regardless of whether it works well or is imperfect, at least it’s unbiased.
It’s important to note, however, that all attempts to correct the previous dysfunctional scoring system have created an even more potentially unfair arena. Referees have been granted greater subjective scoring power through the new rules. Techniques that are rewarded by the electronic chest protector cannot be challenged, but they’re worth only one point. Referees, however, can still penalize athletes and thus can have a greater effect on the outcome.
The Proposal
At this point, we need to examine the issue of martial art versus martial sport. Are the objectives of the sport of taekwondo and the martial art of taekwondo similar, dissimilar or disparate? If they are dissimilar, are there enough points of connectivity so one can coexist without adversely affecting the other? Or are the goals so dispa- rate that the differences cannot be reconciled?
In my opinion, there are significant differences between the goals and objectives of the sport and the art. However, these differences are not irreconcilable. Areas of commonality can be defined and enhanced by having the right training goals and objectives. More important in the sport arena, those goals and objectives can be recognized by a more discerning scoring paradigm that better reflects the original intent of taekwondo as a martial art. The goals and objectives of both first must be defined with an eye on the past. As such, I offer the fol- lowing for consideration.
First, both the sport of taekwondo and the martial art can be a mechanism for personal development. Master- ing the required skill set is arduous and time-consuming. It also requires patience and determination. The practitioner not only refines his physical skills but also gains mental acuity and focus.
A factor that separates taekwondo from other sports is its emphasis of tradition, honor and seniority. In fact, I would argue that this is what’s made taekwondo a world- wide phenomenon. Not only do athletes gain physical ability, but they also learn restraint and respect. Done well, taekwondo — whether it’s practiced as a sport or a martial art — can yield these benefits. For this reason, they should be core objectives of both.
The technical objectives of the art and the sport, as I mentioned, have been bifurcated. The sport was adjusted to meet the requirements of the IOC, while the martial art is still focused on proper technique and the maximization of power and economy of motion. This was originally reflected in taekwondo competition.
If the case is that the martial art of taekwondo is power-based and serves as a viable means of self- defense, does this need to be mirrored in its competitive form? If not, do we need to refine the objectives of both to explain the disconnect? A more important question is, In a speed-versus-power environment in which contact is not encouraged, is there even a need for a chest protector? After all, it hinders the athlete’s ability to move. In most other forms of martial arts competition, the striking implements are padded, not the targets. This affords the participants more freedom of movement while protecting them no matter where they’re hit.
Currently, taekwondo instructors must explain the differences between martial arts practices and competition preparation. Athletes must focus on the objectives of the sport, which are now electronic and don’t encourage the development of new techniques and combinations. It’s fair to ask whether taekwondo competition as a sport no longer enhances taekwondo as a martial art.
I posit that the new competitive arena in which sport taekwondo exists is dumbing down the technical acu- men of the athlete. When any sport allows the scoring system to define its objectives, it limits itself to the technology that’s available. It would make more sense to build the objectives of the sport based on the objectives of the martial art — and then design a suitable scoring paradigm.
The question that remains is whether we’ve mortgaged the future of all taekwondo in an effort to maintain its status as an Olympic sport. Many purists think this is the case. Even with a scoring system that prioritizes head kicks over body kicks, the frequency of kicking has experienced a decline in recent years.
In closing, it’s worth considering whether taekwondo was ever meant to be practiced by the masses. Perhaps it should be reserved for the dedicated few who have the work ethic and diligence to excel. Although some purists would agree, I do not. The alternative is to accept that there must be two versions of taekwondo that are tangentially related yet significantly different: the martial art that’s practiced in the dojang and the sport that’s used in competition.
Regardless of one’s position on this matter, the issue must be addressed by the powers that be. It’s my hope that they can resolve their differences. It’s the only way to maintain taekwondo’s legacy as a martial art and its status as an international sport.
Herb Perez won a gold medal in taekwondo at the 1992 Barcelona Olympics. As a result, he was Black Belt’s 1992 Co-Competitor of the Year.
This article originally appeared in a 2019 edition of Black Belt Magazine.