I’m in Mandalay City, Myanmar’s last royal capital, on the night of World Lethwei Championship’s (WLC) debut broadcast on UFC Fight Pass titled “Mighty Warriors” and I decide to grab a bite before the main card starts.
I step out the back of the Mandalar Thiri Indoor Stadium, the howls of the crowd becoming faint and then suddenly cut off as the doors close behind me. Then I run smack into another lethwei event, a traditional one from the looks of it, right next door in one of the adjacent building on the sprawling grounds of the soccer venue.
“Is that also lethwei?” I ask the uniformed guard, eyeing the arguably smaller number of people walking into that venue.
After a moment, his face lights up in understanding and he responded in halting English. “Yes, lethwei fighting also in there. Traditional!”
Is this coincidence that a traditional lethwei event is being held on the same night as WLC’s card? Seems suspect but I decide to find out and walk towards the other venue’s doors.
I can’t read the poster on the wall outside since it’s in Burmese script but it depicts four men trying to kick the f*ck out of each other with a screaming red explosion to one side. The same music by a Burmese orchestra and the appreciative yawps of the crowd indicate that, yep, another fight is indeed in progress within. What’s going on here?
I smile at the ticket guys at the door and point to my scorpion mic rig and phone attachment, implying that they should let me go in and take photos. I mime a three-punch combo and snapping pictures. But my eagerness is hampered by my stupidity—I forget to take off the WLC media pass ID and their ubiquitous red and gold lanyard is still around my neck.
There is some muted but heated discussion between the two door guys and their security who look me over either with open contempt or comedic puzzlement—it’s hard to tell in the dim lights.
After a moment their gestures and polite tone need no further translation, though. They point me to the other venue’s doors: fuck off and go back. Endeavors to go gonzo have been foiled.
Lethwei is the most brutal bareknuckle headbutt-legal striking sport in the world and WLC is currently the biggest lethwei organization promoting this millennia-old martial art as a cultural export of Myanmar. But it’s only days later, after talking to lethwei experts, that I fully understand the context of that moment when I got refused entry.
Gerald Ng, CEO of WLC describes the resistance they encountered trying to get their hybrid rule set off the ground. “Initially, before even our first event, the [traditionalists] were like ‘This is crazy!’ They said we were trying to change something that people have understood only one way for so long.”
The point of contention between lethwei purists and lethwei modernists appears to stem mainly from the use of different rule sets and whether the true spirit of lethwei reflects either one.
See, in traditional lethwei rules there is no points system throughout the five rounds of three minutes each. The only way to win is through knockout, with exceptions granted to injury and the inability to continue to fight.
If nobody gets a KO then it’s a draw. But if a KO does happen, traditional rules state that a fighter can take a max of two minutes of a “timeout KO recovery” to get yelled at, doused with ice and water, slapped by his cornermen, and be revived to continue. You can do this only once during a fight. Think of it as an extra life in a video game. You can fight on or tap out, but at least you’re arguably conscious enough to decide.
It’s a very basic rule set that ensures fighters will always give 100 percent and it’s something even senior citizens can understand: last man standing is the winner. But this is also how fighters as young as 19, like the Burmese fighting prodigy Shwe Yar Mann who’s billed on that night’s co-main event in WLC, has an absurd 17 draws on his pro record.
WLC meanwhile uses a hybrid rule set where everything is the same except there are no timeouts for KO recovery. And fights can be scored by judges for a decision win.
While lethwei purists may not technically balk at the use of this hybrid rule set since it isn’t new, having been implemented in 1996 by the Myanmar Traditional Boxing Federation (MTBF), what really gets the traditionalists riled is that the hybrid rules used by WLC have become synonymous with what’s seen as an erosion of old lethwei culture. What they mean is, the concert atmosphere of LED lights, scantily clad ring girls, and EDM-accompanied walkouts a la old Pride FC.
While it’s certainly a far cry from the modest sand pits where lethwei warriors of yore fought, Win Zin Oo, one of the legendary trainers and icons of lethwei who heads the Thut-Ti Gym in Yangon City, is of the opinion that it’s mainly fear of change and territorialism where these two camps diverge.
“When Myanmar was closed and lethwei had to struggle, the news around the fights was not very intense,” Oo says. “But now Myanmar is open and lethwei is becoming known. Because of that there is fighting that is just because of ego and I feel very, very sorry for that.
“I can appreciate and understand the view of the purist as long as they can keep in mind why some want to modernize the sport,“ Oo continues. “They need to convince the ‘modernization’ people in a constructive way. And the same thing applies to the modernization people. They really need to understand why the purists are just pushy.”
Dave Leduc, dubbed as the “King of Lethwei,” is Canadian and arguably the most famous foreign lethwei fighter who won the coveted Lethwei Openweight World Champion. He was also one of the most vocal critics of WLC with some of his postings on social media nudging a direct elbow in WLC’s direction going “Fuck scoring system. Fuck decisions.”
However, Leduc has since signed a fight contract with WLC last March 10 and he explained his former feud with WLC’s efforts was an act of overprotectiveness for the sport he loved.
“My main concern was about the modern rules set, which I understand more now,” said Leduc in correspondence, stating that an international audience needed closure. “…In the case of a platform like UFC Fight Pass, we need to have a winner.”
“Some lethwei purists don't think lethwei ring girls should show skin and only traditional music should play, with modest decor reflecting the humble and modest nature of Myanmar’s people,” Leduc said. “The problem with this is that Myanmar has been in the shadow of the world, almost forgotten. I think WLC has found the correct way to bring the fun aspect of martial art entertainment while also preserving the modest, yet savage, culture of Myanmar.”
Win Zin Oo is of the opinion that freedom of choice should take primacy in this talk about whether the true spirit of lethwei is more accurately represented in either purist or modernist form or if such binary thinking even helps at all.
“Just because we are not the same does not mean we are enemies,” Oo says. “Some people will go for the package and some want to see just the bare skeleton. But the important thing is understanding and collaborating.
“For my friends from foreign countries, 90 percent of them prefer to see traditional fights with the kind of competency and environment we’ve come to know,” Oo continues. “I’ve asked: do they want to see the round girls with bikinis and flashy lights? No, because they can see that in the clubs.”
Back in the indoor stadium, at WLC 7’s main event, I am back in time to witness the Portuguese contender Antonio Faria execute a dazzling, aggressive performance to outwork the 19-year-old lethwei beast Saw Htoo Aung. Faria won by KO in the third round to capture the light weltwerweight Golden Belt.
“I told you so! I told you I could knock him out!” Faria elatedly says and fist-bumps me right after he climbs out of the ring, golden ticker tape still sticking to his shoulders and back.
The day previous, during our interview, Faria had made it plain he believed the fight would not go the distance and Saw Htoo would fall. The new champ’s foresight and grit had proven oracular and now made him the second foreigner to hold a WLC title.
Lethwei events have now been held in Slovakia, Singapore, Japan, Thailand, and Taiwan. It’s an expansion that’s inevitable as Myanmar embraces the ASEAN fight scene.
“Most traditional lethwei fans have now largely embraced what we’re trying to do,” says Gerald Ng. “I think sometimes a lot of fight promotions try to move into what they think is the modern version of what they want to become too fast. We’re trying to find a comfortable middle ground.”
WLC’s Chairman U Zay Thiha has bigger plans than just lethwei fights, however. “I want to use lethwei to showcase Myanmar to the world. But my plan is to make a platform where the WLC stage is just a way to showcase other traditional and native Asian martial arts.”
“Other countries’ combat arts can be on our big show, like Indonesian silat, Filipino arnis, kun Khmer, and Mongolian bokh wrestling,” Thiha says. “I want to give them a big stage on WLC and on UFC Fight Pass. My vision is not only for lethwei but for all ASEAN martial arts.”
Photos courtesy of World Lethwei Championship