“Karate is back.”

Those were the words of Shotokan practitioner Lyoto Machida after his picture perfect destruction of Rashad Evans at UFC 98 to become the first undefeated fighter to ever hold a divisional title in the UFC. With the event firmly in the books and the resulting fallout just beginning to sink in, the time to reflect on the implications of what Joe Rogan referred to as the beginning of “the Machida Era” is upon us.

Machida’s rise to the top of the 205 pound rankings has stirred up a hornet’s nest of speculation about everything from what constitutes an “exciting” fight, to the role of the so-called “traditional” martial arts in MMA. Now, with a proud Karate fighter at the head of the UFC’s marquis division, the question of whether or not Karate is making a comeback in MMA has been either the explicit thesis or implied subtext of everything from forum threads to mainstream news articles. Insiders and neophyte fans alike are asking how it is that the enigma called the “Dragon” brings arts like Shotokan Karate and Sumo into the Octagon and makes them work.

As fans, fighters, and pundits speculate on whether Machida is the next dominant champion at 205, the question of whether karate is really “back”, and whether or not it ever “left” in the first place is a compelling one…and one whose answer is as complex and difficult to pin down as Machida’s fight game itself. Like most of life’s compelling questions, the answer is not a simple, cut and dried solution that can condensed into a ten second sound clip: It is a multifaceted entity whose features, like a fight itself, operate on many different levels and are constantly changing.

The Friday before the fight, I had the opportunity to ask Frank Mir about his thoughts on the state of the traditional martial arts in MMA. Coming from a Kenpo background himself, Frank was in a great position to offer insight as to the changing ideas that are erupting around the catalyst of Lyoto Machida. To fully appreciate the changes that Machida brings to the modern MMA worldview, as well as place Mir’s comments in the proper context, a short trip through the historical evolution of the sport in is order.

From Then To Now

It was not so very long ago that the prevailing worldview amongst most students of the fight game was that the “traditional” Japanese martial arts such as Karate and Kung Fu had been proven ineffective by the modern laboratory of the MMA ring and cage. Indeed, early MMA competition burst the bubble of many martial arts myths. Karate, Kung Fu, and Ninjitsu practitioners who though that they could rely on animal techniques, death touches, chi balls, no-touch knockouts, or striking skills honed in point sparring competitions consistently found themselves on the wrong end of one sided beatings at the hands of kickboxers, wrestlers, and JuJitsu artists. Quickly, a whole host of traditional Chinese and Japanese arts were shelved in favor of other, more effective methods.

In the early years of MMA the zeitgeist was that the fighters themselves were primarily representatives of a single style, and that the purpose of the match-ups was to pit the effectiveness of those styles against each other in order to discover what the “best” style was. UFC 1 was not organized to find out who the best martial artist was, per se. Rather, it was intended to use the martial artist (Royce Gracie) as a vehicle to showcase the effectiveness of a particular style (Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu) over other styles. As soon as the laboratory of the UFC began to produce objective, measureable datum on the effectiveness of different styles and approaches to fighting, a fundamental orthodoxy about what arts constituted an effective foundation for a modern fighter began to emerge. In very general terms, this new orthodox approach broke the fight game down into three separate, but not necessarily distinct, phases: the striking phase, the clinching phase, and the grappling phase. These phases are not rigid, static absolutes, but dynamic, fluid states that are constantly changing. Certain techniques, such as takedowns from the clinch or shooting from the outside, serve as ways to transition back and forth between phases. Others, such as utilization of the Thai clinch to strike, or ground and pound from within the guard, combine elements of two different phases.

With the emergence of modern training methods based upon this new orthodox approach, the emphasis began to shift from a style versus style paradigm to one that centered around the full skill set of an individual athlete and how that skill set matched up against the skill set of any other given opponent. For example, it became less important whether or not fighter X’s grappling background was in Wrestling, BJJ, or Sambo, or that fighter Y’s clinch game was based upon Greco Roman, Muay Thai, or Judo. What was much more important was that the individuals could fight in all phases, and that the fighters could objectively match their own skill sets to the strengths and weaknesses of a particular opponent. Indeed, styles can and still do, make fights. However, not in the same sense as they did at UFC 1: we may still refer to Thiago Alves as a “Muay Thai” fighter or Demian Maia as a “Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu” fighter, but we only do so within the framework of the given understanding that whereas each fighter has their own specialty, that specialty rests within a complete skill set that extends outside of merely that one art.

As such, the various forms of Kickboxing, Wrestling, and Brazilian Ju-Jitsu became the predominant trifecta of arts composing the base upon which most modern MMA fighters’ skill sets began to be built…because those were the arts thought to give the fighter the best comprehensive coverage to be able to function in each phase of the fight. In the striking phase, the traditional Japanese arts of Karate and Kung Fu were quickly jettisoned in favor of Western Boxing and Muay Thai.

What That Means Today

But why is that so? What is it about Muay Thai or Boxing that has made them more effective in MMA than Karate or Kung Fu? For Frank Mir, “it all comes down to randori.” He aptly pointed out that Jigoro Kano, the founder of Judo, was a very strong proponent of intensive, live sparring that simulated a real fight as closely as possible. For many years, the myth of the one punch killing blow and the illusions that many Karate practitioners had about their skill sets because of those myths made them avoid true, realistic sparring. In addition, the various forms of Karate came from very rigid, authoritarian cultural backgrounds whose approaches to training and development of the arts were hostile to change and unwilling to alter their methods and ideas to meet reality. It was, after all, easier to simply hide behind the excuse that the art could not be practiced realistically because it was too dangerous, than to admit that hundreds of years of established tradition and rigid orthodoxy might need critical examination and change.

For Mir, this was the crux of the issue. It was “not that the arts themselves were bad, but that they way in which they were trained were unrealistic...Why is it that boxing is such an effective martial art? Because boxers spend the majority of their time fighting. If you were to tell me that I was going to fight someone who was a boxer, but who had only spent his time hitting pads and had never sparred before, I’d laugh at you.” In other words, Boxing and Muay Thai are not necessarily better or worse than Karate. Rather, they have been heavily utilized by trainers and fighters during these early years of MMA because they, as arts, place a heavy emphasis on fighting. Relating that directly to his own experience, he added: “For example, look at the lead uppercut that I used against Nogueira. That’s a technique that I’ve been using in Kenpo since I was a kid. It’s not that it’s a different punch, it’s just that I train it realistically….it’s all about: can you apply the traditional techniques to a real fight.”

And that is exactly what Machida is doing…and in more areas than one: It is not just Shotokan that is frustrating his opponents…it is Sumo as well. Ever since Emmanuel Yarborough’s ill fated sojourn into the world of MMA, it seemed pretty clear that an art which encouraged morbid obesity and whose criteria for victory was to simply push an opponent outside of a small circle while clutching his enormous diaper was doomed to failure against any number of other modern fighting arts.

However, when worked into the repertoire of a fully rounded, modern mixed martial artist like Machida, his Sumo experience becomes a deadly foil against those who would attempt to bully him in the clinch. Like the Greco Roman style, Sumo is a game of millimeters in which practitioners are forced to develop a very finely tuned sense of balance, weight distribution, and the ability to intuitively feel and act upon very minute changes in an opponent’s center of gravity and direction of movement. In the same way that Machida’s Karate forms the base for his striking, his Sumo experience forms a foundation for his takedown defense, takedowns, and clinch work. As such, Machida is not challenging the orthodox approach itself: his style operates well within the general boundaries of the view of the complete modern martial artist honing his skills at all ranges and phases of the fight game. Rather, it challenges many of the given stylistic assumptions that operate within that orthodox approach: Karate instead of Thai Boxing, Sumo instead of Greco Roman.

Did Karate Ever Leave in the First place?

But is this phenomena really that unique? Is what Machida represents truly something new and revolutionary to MMA? Once again, it is not a simple “yes or no” question, but one that crosses through many different layers of grey.

Many modern Mixed Martial Artists come from the traditional Asian arts. Frank Mir was brought up training in Kenpo, Chuck Liddell in Korei Kai and Hawaiian Kempo, Stephan Bonnar holds a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and Georges St. Pierre held a black belt in Kyokushin long before he was an MMA champion, and it was not long ago that Georges St. Pierre, during his walk-out to the cage, was referred to as a “Kyokushin fighter.” As one looks through the list of athletes competing at the top levels of the sport who started in, or still practice, the traditional Asian arts, the list goes on and on almost ad-absurdum. However, the reason why most fighters who come from Karate backgrounds have not looked like Karate stylists is primarily because as those fighters make the transition into full time MMA training, the striking coaches available to them are not training their fighters in traditional Karate, but kickboxing and Thai boxing. However, as is usually the case, the exception is a great example to illuminate the rule, and one need only look to the last dominant Light Heavyweight UFC champion to see the problematic nature of trying to pigeonhole fighters and their arts into neat little boxes.

John Hackleman is a renowned teacher whose experience in Hawaiian Kempo and KaJuKenBo has allowed him to excel translating traditional styles into effective modern fighting methods. Like Machida, Chuck Liddell’s kickboxing style is rooted in the art of Karate. Although different from the Shotokan of Machida, Liddell’s Korei-Kai and Hawaiian Kempo backgrounds have always been highly visible in his stylistic approach: His low, rooted stance, much wider and more grounded than a boxer’s; his low, wide hands and use of feints from odd angles; and his preference to sink into a deep horse stance and hit downed opponents while standing over them (rather than following them down into the guard or side control to use ground and pound) are all things that anyone who has had exposure to Kenpo can immediately recognize.

Beyond a more obvious stylistic example like Liddell, there have been elements of the traditional Japanese arts that have been part of the repertoire of fighters for a long time: Spinning back fists and spinning back kicks (part of the bread and butter of virtually every karate style), although relatively rare, have been used effectively since the beginning of MMA. Anderson Silva, whose mother art is Muay Thai, has long had the personal quirk of going to the traditional arts and pulling out rare techniques and incorporating them into his arsenal (as both Thales Leites and Tony Fryklund can attest to.)

Many historical events appear, on the surface, to have arrived spontaneously in a revolutionary moment, but are actually the product of a steady accumulation of forces over a long period of time. Machida’s stylistic uniqueness is much less a totally enigmatic entity as much as it is the epitome of a phenomenon that has always been present in MMA, just less visible and distinct. In many ways, Machida Karate represents the cyclical nature of history, bringing the stylistic clash evident in the early years of MMA round full circle, within the evolved context of the complete fighter.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Every martial art has its strengths and its weaknesses; as such, every art has something that it can teach to every other art. If there is one absolute truth that MMA has taught us over the years it is that there is no single “best” or “ultimate” martial discipline: Instead, there are individual athletes, each with their own style composed of many different arts, with each style possessing its own unique advantages and drawbacks. Embedded within the stylistic match-up is the philosophical approach that each fighter brings to the table. With a champion like Machida, addressing the strategic and philosophical dimensions of his fighting style is just as difficult as dealing with his physical training. Although hitting his stride by delivering devastating knockouts in his last two outings, Machida has taken a firestorm of criticism over the majority of his career for his elusiveness and unwillingness to take risks and absorb damage in order to finish fights.

I asked Frank Mir how he feels about those who think that Machida’s “intelligent” approach is boring and unexciting for fans to watch. For Mir, although there is certainly room for legitimate criticism about being too safe in particular moments of his fights when he could have taken advantage of opportunities to finish, most of the criticism leveled at Machida is unwarranted: “What makes us the most lethal creatures on the planet is our intelligence…To devalue that by placing more emphasis on a strategy or fight style that does not make full use of intelligence makes no sense…If a Tiger were to come in here, what would allow me to beat it is my brain. I could climb to the top of the rafters, sharpen a stick and stab it, set a trap for it…but if I tried to wrestle with it, I’d be torn apart…Would you then say that doing that is boring?” Mir’s philosophy is that there are certainly some who would rather see the craziness that often ensues from two guys standing in front of each other and just brawling, or fighting in a way that is exciting but reckless, but the best fighters, and those that really embody the spirit of the martial arts are those that fight intelligently, regardless of the end product.

“The beautiful thing about MMA is that there are different philosophies about how to fight…and that we can actually get into the Octagon and test those philosophies against each other and see what the result is,” Says Mir. As the “Machida Era” begins, the questions of which philosophy will prove to be the foil to the new champion’s style and whether or not Machida Karate is a one-off event or the herald of a sea-change in the world of MMA, can only be answered with time and open minds.