Reality Check

CREATION MYTHS: Why FMA didn't "invent" Modern Boxing

Human beings are obsessed with origin myths.

The Garden of Eden. Ginnungagap. Prometheus stealing fire. Romulus and Remus. The Tower of Babel.

We like beginnings because beginnings simplify things. They turn messy evolution into clean stories. They give us a single source, a sacred place, a first teacher, a hidden truth from which everything else supposedly emerged.

Martial arts are no different.

Every system eventually develops its own Eden story.

Some are harmless. Some are cultural pride. Some are lineage marketing wrapped in historical storytelling. And some become so repeated that they eventually harden into “truth” despite very little actual evidence.

Recently I came across an article discussing Filipino Martial Arts (FMA) and modern boxing. To its credit, it was more restrained than many versions of this claim, but it still repeated a familiar idea: that Filipino systems heavily shaped — perhaps even revolutionized — modern boxing footwork and movement.

This is where things become interesting.

Not because FMA lacks sophistication. Quite the opposite. Filipino Martial Arts contain highly refined concepts of timing, angling, rhythm disruption, transitional striking, and footwork. The issue is not whether FMA is effective. The issue is historical causation.

There is a major difference between:
“these systems share similar mechanics”

and:

“this system created those mechanics.”

Martial artists often confuse the two.

The article referenced the in-and-out movement associated with fighters like Muhammad Ali and suggested its roots could be traced to Filipino boxing influences in Hawaii during the early twentieth century. At first glance, this sounds plausible. The problem is that the evolution of boxing footwork was already occurring long before those influences emerged on the world stage.

If we actually study boxing history, the progression is visible.

Daniel Mendoza innovated movement because he had to. Smaller fighters throughout history are often forced into mobility, timing, deception, and angularity because standing still against larger opponents is su***de. Sam Langford represents another extraordinary example. Undersized for many of the men he fought, Langford developed elusive entries, explosive repositioning, and transitional movement that looks startlingly modern even today.

Jack Johnson demonstrated sophisticated shifting mechanics and in-and-out footwork decades before any supposed FMA-to-boxing transfer narrative becomes historically convincing. His movement often included replacing feet during transitions in ways that look remarkably similar to what FMA practitioners might identify as triangular movement.

But similarity is not proof of lineage.

This is where martial arts communities often go wrong. Human beings solving the same physical problem frequently arrive at similar answers independently.

A boxer trying to angle away from incoming force while maintaining balance and striking potential may arrive at mechanics visually similar to a Filipino triangular step. A fencer may do the same. A savateur may do the same. A knife fighter may do the same. None of this automatically means one system “invented” the other.

Combat evolves through convergent necessity.

As boxing progresses historically, we can see clearer and clearer developmental lines. Jack Dempsey’s movement is aggressive, driving, collision-oriented. Gene Tunney, however, begins displaying movement patterns far closer to what later becomes associated with Ali: lateral control, disciplined range management, smooth exits, and positional command.

The fingerprints are there long before Ali ever enters the ring.

Ali did not invent movement. What he did was combine heavyweight size with lightweight mobility, psychological warfare, elite athleticism, and theatrical unpredictability in a way the public had never seen before.

Likewise, Filipino fighters absolutely contributed to boxing culture. The bolo punch has strong Filipino associations. Filipino fighters brought unusual rhythms, transitional striking patterns, and stylistic unpredictability into the sport. There was unquestionably cross-pollination.

But influence is not parenthood.

And that distinction matters.

Ironically, the modern age may make these myths worse rather than better. AI-generated summaries increasingly blend together fragments of truth, martial arts folklore, repeated internet claims, and plausible sounding connective tissue. The result reads confidently, smoothly, and authoritatively — even when the historical chain of evidence is weak.

The myth survives because it feels satisfying.

People like singular origins. They like hidden masters. They like believing their system secretly shaped the entire combat world. But combat sports rarely evolve that way. They evolve like language: slowly, messily, collaboratively, and often simultaneously across cultures.

Ironically we may be closer to a single source origin in the evolution of boxing footwork and guard position not from Filipino Martial Arts, but gloves themselves.

Modern gloves did not primarily evolve to protect the head. They evolved to protect the hands.

Bare-knuckle boxing historically punished excessive head-hunting. The skull is hard. Hands break. As a result, older pugilists often targeted the body more heavily, struck with greater selectivity, and adopted postures that look unusual to modern eyes — lower guards, extended lead hands, more upright positioning, and a greater emphasis on distance judgment than shell-style head protection.

Once gloves became widespread under Queensberry rules, the equation changed dramatically.

A protected hand can strike the head far more frequently and with greater confidence. The moment hands become safer, headshots increase. And when headshots increase, fighters suddenly have a very compelling reason to do something revolutionary:

Actually cover their heads.

In many ways, the modern high guard is less a mysterious stylistic innovation and more an inevitable adaptation to gloved punching volume.

This is another reason simplistic origin stories fail. Combat sports do not evolve from one secret source. They evolve through changing pressures: rulesets, equipment, pacing, conditioning, ring size, scoring criteria, and athlete specialization.

The glove itself may have influenced modern boxing posture and movement more profoundly than any single martial art outside boxing.

Nobody invented effective footwork in the same way nobody invented conversation.

People adapted.
People refined.
People transmitted.
People rediscovered.

And somewhere along the line, mythology replaced history.

We often describe depression as “the black dog.”
As though it is something that merely follows us around. Heavy. Exhausting. Persistent.

But black dogs bite.

And that matters when we talk about confrontation, conflict, policing, self-protection, leadership, or simply dealing with other human beings under pressure.

Because not every confrontation is driven by anger, ego, or dominance. Sometimes it is driven by despair. Sometimes the person in front of you is not trying to “win” at all. Sometimes they simply no longer care what happens next. That changes everything.

A person who fears consequences can often be influenced by consequences. A person who fears injury can often be deterred by threat. A person invested in tomorrow can often be redirected toward tomorrow.

Depression can alter that equation.
It can flatten consequence.
Reduce self-preservation.
Narrow perspective.
Create emotional fatalism.

And that has implications far beyond mental health discussions. It affects behaviour. Decision-making, Risk-taking, Communication, and of course Confrontation.

Some of the most dangerous people are not emotionally explosive; They are emotionally absent, Flat, Detached, or Resigned.

The person screaming in your face may actually be easier to influence than the quiet individual who has mentally disconnected from outcomes altogether. That matters operationally.

In policing, it changes threat assessment.
In self-protection, it changes assumptions about deterrence.
In communication, it changes how we interpret silence, withdrawal, hopelessness, or sudden escalation.
In leadership, it changes how we read changes in behaviour, mood, or investment.

But there is another side to this conversation that people often avoid because it is uncomfortable: We must also monitor ourselves.

Not just others.
Ourselves.

Because if depression can distort perception, flatten emotional regulation, reduce patience, increase irritability, or create fatalistic thinking in others, it can do the same to us.
And pressure reveals what is underneath.

That means our reactions under stress may not simply be “tactical failures” or “communication failures.” They may be reflections of exhaustion, unresolved trauma, emotional depletion, burnout, or depression itself.

That does not make someone evil. But neither does it make them exempt from consequence. The law does not particularly care that you were depressed when you crossed a line. Your employer may sympathize. Your friends may understand. Society may contextualize. But culpability often remains.

That is why self-awareness matters.

Not in the shallow social-media sense of “self-care,” but in the professional and personal sense of monitoring your own state before your state begins monitoring you.

Are you becoming short-tempered?
Detached?
Reckless?
Emotionally numb?
Seeking confrontation?
Losing empathy?
Ignoring risk?
Failing to care about outcomes?

Because the black dog does not always arrive looking sad.

Sometimes it arrives looking angry.
Sometimes exhausted.
Sometimes cynical.
Sometimes reckless.
Sometimes emotionally cold.

And if we only train ourselves to identify threat in others while remaining blind to deterioration in ourselves, we create a dangerous imbalance.

Awareness must work in both directions.
Perceive the person.
But also perceive yourself.

Because the person you fail to assess properly under pressure may not always be the subject standing in front of you.
Sometimes it is the one standing in your own boots.

“Minimum force” sounds neat.
It sounds restrained.
It sounds professional.

It’s also misleading.

Force, in isolation, has no meaning. It’s not a dial you turn up or down based on how something looks. It only makes sense in relation to an outcome.

What we should be talking about is minimum necessary force to achieve a lawful and justified result.

That one word—necessary—changes everything.

“Minimum force” encourages hesitation, second-guessing, and ineffective action. It nudges people toward doing less, even when less won’t work. The result? Half-measures—unclear commands, poor positioning, ineffective tactics.

And ineffective force doesn’t de-escalate anything. It prolongs the encounter, creates confusion, and often leads to more force being required later.

That’s the paradox:
Trying to use less force often results in using more force overall.

When you shift to minimum necessary force, the focus moves from optics to outcome.

The questions become:

What is the objective?
What is the subject doing?
What is required—right now—to safely and lawfully achieve control?

That might be communication.
It might be positioning.
It might be decisive physical action.

All of it sits on the same spectrum.

This is where many systems fall short. They teach “levels” of force as if you climb them step by step. Reality doesn’t work like that.

You don’t escalate neatly.
You solve problems. Or you don’t.

And here’s the critical piece—commitment.

If force is required, it must be applied effectively. Not excessively, but effectively. Because half-hearted force isn’t restraint—it’s inefficiency. And inefficiency under pressure is what creates escalation.

From an articulation standpoint, this is what stands up to scrutiny:

“I used the minimum level of force that I believed was necessary, based on the facts as I perceived them at the time, to achieve a lawful objective.”

Clear. Rational. Defensible.

Because force isn’t about looking controlled.

It’s about being in control—and being able to explain why.

STOP TELLING PEOPLE TO CALM DOWN!!!

We’ve all heard it.

“Calm down.”

We’ve probably all said it as well… usually at exactly the wrong moment.

Here’s the reality: no one has ever calmed down because they were told to calm down. If anything, it pours petrol on it.

I remember being on a job years back—nothing unusual on paper. Raised voices, a bit of chaos, people talking over each other, and one lad right in the middle of it, amped up, chest out, shouting his point like the volume alone was going to win the argument.

You could see it straight away. He wasn’t thinking. Not really. He was reacting.

And one of the first things said to him?

“Mate, calm down.”

Predictably… he didn’t.

He doubled down. Got louder. More animated. More committed to it. Because at that point, you’re not dealing with someone weighing things up—you’re dealing with a reaction.

That’s the bit we miss.

When people escalate, they don’t just get louder… they get simpler. Thinking narrows, options shrink, and behaviour becomes reactive. And then we step in and try to fix that with words that require thinking.

“Calm down.”

To someone who isn’t in a state to do that.

That’s not a tactic. That’s wishful thinking.

The goal isn’t to calm them down.

The goal is to bring them back to a place where they can actually think again.

Because once thinking comes back online, everything changes. Now they can hear you. Now they can process. Now they can make a decision—even if it’s not the one you want, it’s at least a decision.

And you don’t get there with a phrase.

You get there by what you do next.

Clear direction. Simple instruction. Consistent response. No arguing. No over-explaining. No getting dragged into their state.

You change what’s happening around them… and that starts to change what they do.

Or, if we’re being honest, sometimes you don’t bring them back—you just end it.

And that’s a decision as well.

Next time you feel “calm down” coming out of your mouth, catch it.

Because the question isn’t:

“How do I calm them down?”

It’s:

“What do I do next to bring them back?”

Because at the end of the day…

You can’t reason someone out of a state they didn’t reason themselves into.

I hear it all the time… “the science of streetfighting,” “the art of streetfighting,” “our system for real-world combat.”

Let’s just call it what it is - It’s nonsense.

Street violence is not an MMA match, it’s not a sparring round, and it’s not a controlled drill where everyone knows their role and their turn. It’s not even what Peter Consterdine used to mock as “martial arts in jeans.” That stuff might look closer to reality, but it’s still performance. It’s still controlled. It’s still safe.

And that’s fine—until someone starts calling it “the street.”

Because the street doesn’t look like that at all.

It’s messy. It’s fast. It’s ambiguous. It’s emotional. It’s often one-sided. And it doesn’t come with a start signal or a reset button. You don’t get equal terms, and you don’t get time to think things through nicely. Whatever decision you make, you’re living with it—both in the moment and afterwards when someone else is picking it apart.

What gets sold as “streetfighting” is usually just controlled performance with better branding. Predictable feeds, known roles, safe outcomes… and then somewhere along the line that gets packaged up as reality.

Now, to be fair, there is science that applies here. Stress response, motor learning, decision-making under pressure—that all matters. But none of it gives you a clean system for “winning fights.” If anything, it tells you the opposite. Your fine motor skills go, your perception narrows, your decisions simplify, and your performance becomes inconsistent. That’s not a system—that’s a set of constraints you’re operating inside whether you like it or not.

The real issue isn’t that people are training. It’s what they’re being sold.

When drills are sold as reality… when attributes are sold as answers… when confidence is sold as capability… that’s where this starts to become a problem.

And here’s the part that should sit a bit heavy.

“Caveat Emptor” has no business being the watchword in an industry that claims to keep people safe.

If you’re teaching people how to deal with violence, you don’t get to hide behind marketing language. There’s a responsibility there. Be honest about what your training does and doesn’t do. Prepare people for uncertainty, not certainty. Don’t sell them a neat answer to a messy problem.

Because there is no “streetfighting system.” There’s just decision-making under pressure, managing unknown risk, and acting on incomplete information.

If someone is selling you certainty in an uncertain environment…

they’re not preparing you—
they’re comforting you.

And those are not the same thing.

Really enjoyed this one.

Had the chance to sit down with the The Frugal Fi****ms Podcast and get into a topic that doesn’t get nearly enough honest airtime:

Self-protection isn’t about what you carry.
It’s about what you decide — and whether you can justify it after.

We talked about:

The pause (and why it matters more than speed)
Situational awareness as a habit, not a switch
How being armed can actually push people to engage too early
Why most people overestimate getting a tool into play under real pressure
And the reality that the aftermath is part of the fight

Because here’s the truth:

Most self-protection failures don’t happen at the point of action…
they happen before the tool would ever matter.

Awareness.
Positioning.
Judgment.

If those aren’t in place, nothing else saves you.

If you want to listen, you can go direct here:
👉 https://rss.com/podcasts/frugalfi****mspodcast/2662024/

Or (recommended) head to their main page and find Episode 29:
👉 https://frugalfi****mspodcast.com

As always:

Force comes from facts — not fear, frustration, or fury.

Frugal Fi****ms Podcast Your Hosts Craig Walker & Ken Van Tassell connect listeners to best-value products & services available across the fi****ms & shooting sports universe... Frugal = Value!We don't waste your time, getting right to the topic in every show, covering the stories best told by our guests - not by us!Yes, y...