How Much Autonomy?

Mixed Martial Arts, labour law, and “refusal to work” tactics

We are seeing this with increasing frequency: a known or even big-name fighter either refuses to fight an opponent who is “beneath” them, or even leaves an organization entirely due to a conflict over the ability to control who they will fight. Obviously, the most prominent example is Randy Couture, whose “I’m resigning; I’m retiring; I’m quitting; I’m being sued” battle with the UFC and Dana White has been endlessly dissected across the internet. But other fighters have done similar things of late, and often with different reasons. Take, for example, Karo Parisyan’s obfuscation around his ducking of Jon Fitch – oh, apologies Karo, you didn’t duck Fitch; you just “requested an opponent other than Fitch” – which unlike Couture’s desire to battle the best, smacks of running from an opponent too strong to judo toss. Or the rumour that Tito Ortiz originally balked at being matched up against Lyoto Machida, which has much more to do with Ortiz figuring that Machida represents a tactically-motivated slap in the face from UFC management (though to Tito’s credit, he did eventually take the fight).

Why focus on the big names, though? Anyone who knows any mixed martial artists who fight in the smaller, local promotions, has probably seen this sort of thing repeatedly: different camps posture and jockey for position, trying to make sure that their fighters, depending on their individual skill and experiences, get put up against the most advantageous or recognized opponents. The smaller the pool of competition – any women’s weight class; men’s heavyweight or bantamweight – the more manoeuvring occurs. But there are some serious differences in these various scenarios that need to be recognized.

First, at the lower-levels, there really is not a lot of money in actually competing in MMA; especially when fighters are just starting out, it would be irresponsible of camps and trainers if they did not pull out all the stops to make sure that “rookies” or “newbie’s” get the best chance possible to succeed. It’s neither economically feasible nor good for the fragile confidence of a young fighter to throw them into fights where the odds are stacked against them. At first, just remembering to pull guard, keep good head movement while striking, and avoid panicking after taking a hit, is enough of a challenge.

Second, some fighters do have a legitimate gripe. I cannot believe that I am actually going to support Ortiz in one of his many complaints, but I do believe he actually has a case for being contrary towards the UFC here. Ortiz has made a ton of money for the UFC, is a proven veteran (even if he has declined in recent years), and is on the last fight of his contract. It’s well known by now that it’s standard UFC operating procedure to give a troublesome fighter a boring opponent who is a bad style match-up as the last fight on their contract in an effort to drive down the asking price after the contract ends, and Ortiz has been around the block enough to spot a wooden nickel when it’s handed to him.

At the other end of the spectrum are guys like Karo, who in addition to hating on women’s MMA (a sure way to get on my bad side), has made himself look like a complete fool in his blatant duck and dodge of Fitch. What bothers me about this situation is that it starts to stray dangerously close to what has developed in boxing over the past fifteen years or so: fighters padding their records against stiffs until they hit 30-0 or 40-2 type numbers, then claiming that the record is irrefutable proof of their right to a title shot. This is simply “quantity over quality” type thinking, but many people in the industry seem to get hypnotized by winning percentages northward of .900. But it is also an inherently selfish strategy, in that it results in a lot of boring fights, which hurts the industry as a whole. As exciting as the occasional flash knockout at thirty seconds of the first round may be, a long string of matches like that – or worse, round after round of one fighter just hanging on for dear life in true tomato can fashion – may be among the primary reason that interest in boxing has fallen off so dramatically. Couture’s situation is very complicated, but it seems to be primarily about compensation and the inability of the UFC to put the best opponent in front of Couture. Ortiz’s situation is similar, except that rather than fight the UFC as Randy has, Ortiz has chosen to fight Machida and then walk. Parisyan seems to be so scared of another career set-back in the form of a loss that he’s actually avoiding his best competition; I’m sure this doesn’t matter much to Fitch, who is getting closer to fighting the champion in his division, and while it may be exactly what Karo thinks he needs, it’s a big loss for the fans and it sets a terrible precedent.

That being said, how much autonomy should fighters have in choosing their opponents? MMA is a dangerous sport, and fighters have only one commodity: their bodies. In any unionized working environment, and frankly under most labour laws in semi-civilized places like Ontario, Quebec or British Columbia, every worker has the right to refuse either unsafe working conditions or work for which they are not properly compensated. But fighters are in an unusual position in that they are not “labourers” in the sense that most unions or labour laws are designed to address. Thinking of this as a legal question leads to confusing grey areas. Could Karo make the reasonable case that fighting Fitch is “unsafe labour”? I’m sure he could, and frankly, it might even hold up in law; however, it would also be essentially the end of his fighting career, as it would be an admission that in a fight with an opponent in the same weight class, with a similar level of experience, Parisyan expects to be badly injured. It is not hard to imagine the field day that the media and anti-MMA athletic commissions would have with that sort of legal argument. Couture or Ortiz might have a better time convincing a court that they, as labourers with a certain level of seniority, skill, and experience, are not being compensated appropriately for their work. This is a very old-school socialist argument, to be sure, but one that might carry legal weight. But the problem in that scenario becomes, what can any fight promotion such as the UFC actually do to rectify the situation? Grant a raise? Absolutely, but by doing so, the UFC would immediately be facing similar arguments from dozens of fighters – especially some name fighters who are still operating on criminally tiny entry level contracts – and the economic demand might well make the sport of MMA unfeasible. Yes, fighter pay needs to increase, but if it’s is a sudden, legally-imposed change, the shock and resulting chaos might well sink entire organizations, especially the smaller promotions, ultimately hurting the struggling fighters the most. (If you don’t believe me, check out some labour history: the vast majority of struggles between labour and management that have resulted in an imposed settlement have ultimately ended with the financial backers folding up their tents and leaving for greener fields, while the workers get shafted a second time.) And there is absolutely nothing that anyone can do about forcing promoters to make matches, especially if one fighter refuses to accept or, as is the case with Randy and Fedor, if one fighter cannot even agree to a contract with the promotion.

So what is the ideal way for fighters or promoters to view the personal interests that mixed martial artists have in the matches which they are offered or choose to take? How much autonomy can a fighter expect to have, or should a promotion ethically and legally be expected to grant? Independent rankings may be some help here; just as unions in various business sectors have used independent research into fair market value to argue for wage increases and improved working conditions, fighters could potentially build a clause into their contracts that allows them to reference a specific set of rankings in order to refuse a fight with someone who is either vastly higher (though it’s tough to imagine anyone complaining about a title shot) or vastly lower than their own ranking. However, rankings are notoriously subjective; how is it, exactly, that there are still people ranking Fedor as the top pound-for-pound fighter out there? Does his win over Hong Man Choi really stack up against GSP’s domination of Matt Hughes, or Anderson Silva’s absolute domination of an entire weight class? And what the heck does “pound-for-pound” even mean, what criteria are fighters ranked on, whose biases are at play? There is no true neutral ground here, so it’s an imperfect solution at best.

What remains true is that, as mixed martial arts grows in popularity; more and more fighters will be fighting as their exclusive or primary form of making a living. That means that labour tactics such as the refusal to work are going to become increasingly important, both for novice fighters looking to avoid injury, and veteran fighters looking to secure their financial futures. As well, with many competing promotions and complicated corporate interests at play, mixed martial arts can no longer cling to the claim of being a true meritocracy, where the best fighters compete and the winners naturally shake out from the losers; it is no secret that matches are now made both for political and financial reasons, as well as based on the resources at hand. As examples of the first, consider Andre Arlovski, who has been clearly put on the shelf and then signed to fight Jake O’Brian, lay and pray artist extraordinaire, because like Ortiz, he and the UFC could not agree on a new contract, or the sudden surge of European fighters on the recent UFC cards in England and Ireland, or the influx of Canadian talent on the upcoming Montreal card. The second can be summed up by honestly asking, regardless of who wins a fight between Tim Silvia and Noguiera, would either of these fighters really give Fedor or even Couture a serious run? Mixed martial arts is really only a meritocracy at the lowest levels, where there are many good fighters, but few exceptional ones in any given locale. At the high levels, where the money is, things get much more complicated. That means that fighters must watch their backs, because for political or financial reasons, even a benevolent promoter will happily stall one fight career to benefit another.

Ultimately, I like Jason Macdonald’s approach, and not just because he’s Canadian. He was offered the chance to fight Joe Doerksen at UFC 83, a match clearly designed to pander to the Canadian audience by shoe-horning as much Can-Con onto the card as possible. Macdonald has already beaten Doerksen, and considered the match a step back for him (even if the previous victory was two and a half years ago), and he has said so publicly. But he took the match anyway; intent on sending a statement that he will not only defeat Doerksen, but do so in a manner that justifies a higher level of competition. No one knows who will win, Joe or Jason, but it is hard not to like Macdonald’s perspective, and he has been rewarded by the UFC – despite his public criticism of their matchmaking – with a four-fight contract, perhaps a recognition of his gameness, and his willingness to balance his own interests as a fighter with the interests of his employer. I would like to think, though, that if Macdonald were to find himself in a truly unfair position, as some other fighters have, that he would know where to draw the line and say, “Okay, I fought Doerksen even though I didn’t want to, so everyone knows that I’m no Karo Parisyan,” – sorry, couldn’t resist – “but enough is enough.” I would hope that Macdonald would remember that, while refusal to work is not something to engage in frivolously or abused, that it does still have a place in the options that a fighter can choose from. I would also hope that, perhaps as time goes on, other fighters will begin to recognize the difference between frivolous and serious refusals of opponents, matches, and contracts, and take it upon themselves to support their fellow mixed martial artists publicly when they have a legitimate gripe. Not as a union, not seeking a messy legal recourse, but as individual, specifically-talented worker who should be able to expect, if not de la Hoya-style money and a nicely padded record, at least the same level of dignity that anyone should be able to expect as they try to get by in a tough, competitive, but potentially rewarding industry.