Embodied Belonging: Rough-and-Tumble Play as a Mechanism for Social Cohesion in Martial Arts

Introduction

Boxing and martial arts have long been promoted as interventions for so-called “at-risk” youth—those vulnerable to criminal involvement, anti-social behavior, and social exclusion (Twemlow & Sacco, 1998). Much of the literature assessing their preventative potential falls into two broad camps: sociological explanations, which highlight how these sports recode “street” masculinities into valuable social and physical capital (Deuchar et al., 2016), and psychological approaches, which argue that martial arts instill self-regulation, discipline, and pro-social behavior and are, therefore, crime preventative (Blomqvist Mickelsson, 2020). The latter has dominated the field, with empirical research largely focused on measuring behavioral change (Moore et al., 2020).

However, theoretical development in this domain has remained limited. Although the field has seen some theoretical development recently (Lane, 2025), the foundational ideas of early studies (e.g., Trulson, 1986) continue to underpin much contemporary work, despite shifts in social context and empirical complexity. While research demonstrates that martial arts participation indeed is linked to psychosocial growth (Moore et al., 2020), and as such, indirectly to crime prevention, what is frequently missing from this conversation is a sustained focus on the relational and embodied micro-dynamics of practice—the physical, moment-to-moment interactions through which change is said to occur but rarely analyzed in detail.

In this paper, I suggest that the lens of rough-and-tumble play (RTP)—though traditionally situated within developmental psychology—can offer a useful analytic language for examining how structured physical interaction within martial arts settings gives rise to trust, care, and reciprocal regulation. RTP, rooted in developmental psychology, refers to physically playful behavior that mimics aggression but is governed by mutual consent, restraint, and repair. Adapted to the context of martial arts, RTP allows us to understand how young people co-create safety and belonging through structured physicality (Blomqvist Mickelsson & Stylin, 2021). Rather than proposing RTP as a stand-alone theory of change, I incorporate it as part of a broader relational framework—complementary to accounts of desistance, identity work, and moral regulation from the broader criminological literature. RTP’s emphasis on co-regulated physicality, mutual vulnerability, and embodied social learning helps illuminate how martial arts become sites where affiliation and transformation are felt and forged. This is particularly salient in contexts marked by social fragmentation and the lure of gang-based affiliation, where alternative pathways to respect, recognition, and community are not just symbolic but intensely physical. Drawing on qualitative data from 52 respondents across Swedish martial arts clubs in so-called crime-ridden “vulnerable areas,” I explore how embodied interaction in the form of RTP serves as a mechanism for building trust, community, and social cohesion. The main research question guiding the paper was: how can we understand RTP’s mediating crime preventative effect through martial art?

This paper proceeds as follows. Firstly, I give a background on martial art and crime prevention. In this section, I delineate how this subject matter has been conceptualized in different schools of thought, and what empirical evidence we do have for martial arts’ crime preventative effect. In this section, I also situate MA within other important criminological theories on social capital and desistance. Secondly, I give an introduction to the concept of RTP, where I explain its main mechanisms, and how this can be adapted to the martial art context. Thirdly, I present the method of paper, and the results. I finish by discussing the current theoretical state-of-art and what RTP can contribute with.

Martial art and Crime Prevention

The use of martial arts associations to combat youth delinquency and crime has, intuitively, its most close ties to several strands of the criminological literature, such as that on self-control and crime (Hirschi, 2004), social bond- and control theory (Hirschi, 2015), and social capital (Sampson, 1997). According to self-control theory, youths are most likely to engage in crime if they exhibit low levels of self-control and thus cannot muster the self-regulation necessary to avoid committing crimes. A particularly frequent finding in the martial arts literature is that youths, through martial arts, develop enhanced self-regulative ability (Blomqvist Mickelsson, 2020, 2021). According to social control theory, youths commit crimes because the lack healthy ties to mainstream society; in this regard, the martial arts association constitutes a place where youths can start to form this sense of belonging, ultimately providing them with an anti-criminogenic setting (Wacquant, 2006).

However, most of the empirical research on martial arts as a tool for crime prevention and psychosocial intervention has long been anchored in psychological theory, such as self-control theory. This strand of literature particularly emphasizes the development of self-regulation, emotional control, and prosocial behavior. One of the earliest and most influential contributions to this field is Trulson's (1986) quasi-experimental study, which demonstrated that youth exposed to traditional martial arts—emphasizing philosophical tenets such as self-discipline, respect, and non-violence—showed a marked reduction in aggressiveness and delinquency. In contrast, those trained in martial arts devoid of ethical framing (modern combat-focused styles) exhibited increased antisocial tendencies. In pursuing this line of research, Nosanchuk and MacNeil (1989) showed that these philosophical underpinnings seemed, indeed, to be the main explanation as to why martial art could function as a healthy environment to youth. These findings laid the groundwork for a growing body of research positioning traditional martial arts as a behavioral and emotional regulatory framework, particularly effective for at-risk youth. Expanding upon these early insights, Twemlow and Sacco (1998) integrated martial arts practice with psychodynamic theory and developmental psychology in what they termed the embodiment of the mind. Their model views structured physical activity as a means to rehabilitate individuals with disorganized attachment histories, trauma, and mentalization deficits. Here, martial arts are not merely physical or cognitive-behavioral techniques but are theorized as vehicles for revisiting and reorganizing preverbal emotional memories. In their “Gentle Warrior” intervention, martial arts were combined with therapeutic storytelling, breathing regulation, and ethical instruction in school settings, producing demonstrable reductions in aggression and increases in helpful bystander behaviors.

The psychological paradigm remains dominant in recent large-scale reviews. Moore et al. (2020) conducted a systematic review and meta-analysis and found martial arts had small but significant effects on improving well-being and internalizing symptoms, while only marginally reducing aggression. Importantly, they interpreted martial arts as a low-cost, accessible intervention for youth mental health, aligning with positive psychology and health promotion frameworks (e.g., Antonovsky's salutogenesis). Similarly, Harwood et al. (2017) and Gubbels et al. (2016) conducted meta-analyses focused on externalizing behaviors and aggression, reporting mixed results but leaning toward a modest reduction in aggressive tendencies. These studies emphasize psychosocial outcomes such as self-control, emotional stability, and reduced externalizing behavior but stop short of theorizing how such outcomes are bodily enacted or relationally sustained. Since these landmark meta-analyses- and reviews, a range of other studies have supported the psychosocial benefits of martial art, such as increased well-being, resilience, interpersonal skills, and aggression (dou Yang et al., 2025; Healey et al., 2025; Pekel et al., 2025; Xiang & Xiang, 2025; Xu et al., 2025).

Notably, across these psychological studies, the mechanisms of change are typically presumed rather than explored. The dominant explanatory model is linear and individualistic: martial arts training leads to psychological shifts, which in turn reduce antisocial behavior, and are therefore crime preventative. Despite methodological rigor in some of the reviews (e.g., Moore et al., 2020), this literature rarely accounts for the relational, embodied, or socially situated practices through which such transformation might occur.

In the other “side of the ring,” we find a bulk of sociological literature, mainly on desistance and martial art (often boxing). While psychological studies on martial arts often center on individual-level behavioral change, and its connection to crime reduction, sociological work on boxing offers a richer analysis of how sporting spaces serve as sites of identity transformation, relational repair, and social reintegration. A prominent theme in this literature is how boxing gyms provide an alternative setting for the reconstruction of “street” masculinities into forms of discipline, respect, and embodied control. For example, Deuchar et al. (2016) argue that boxing offers a means through which marginalized young men reframe aggression and toughness into legitimate forms of symbolic and physical capital, enabling them to engage with society through more accepted performances of masculinity. These insights resonate with Wacquant’s (2006) ethnographic work on a Chicago boxing gym, where he theorizes boxing as a purified form of violence; one that allows men to reclaim dignity and structure in the face of systemic marginalization and racialized poverty. For Wacquant, the gym operates as a “social machine” that channels the raw, often destructive energies of the street into a disciplined and ritualized practice, producing not only skilled fighters but also reconstituted subjects with renewed senses of self-worth and belonging. Boxing, in this sense, is less about the pursuit of victory in the ring than about the cultivation of bodily capital and moral order in environments otherwise marked by instability and exclusion. The sport provides participants with routines, hierarchies, and forms of recognition that stand in stark contrast to the precarious conditions of urban marginality, thereby transforming violence into a culturally sanctioned resource for dignity and survival.

Boxing gyms are not only athletic spaces but also moral and social institutions. They offer what scholars term “bounded solidarity” (Small, 2009): micro-communities where rules, hierarchies, and respect operate as alternative moral orders. Within these gym cultures, criminal or hyper-masculine identities are not erased, but rechanneled through ritualized practices, symbolic recognition, and mentorship. Ethnographic research by Jump (2021) further develops this claim, showing that for young men in urban peripheries, boxing clubs become relational sanctuaries. That is, spaces where shame, violence, and alienation are negotiated within a controlled framework of sparring, coaching, and peer accountability.

Importantly, these studies challenge the simplistic narrative of desistance as an internal transformation. Instead, they foreground the interactional and structural conditions that make desistance possible. Martial art gyms act as transitional spaces where social identities can be reworked through embodied discipline, but only when these institutions are embedded in meaningful relationships and community trust. In other, ethnographically inspired, studies mixed martial arts and Brazilian jiu-jitsu (Sugden, 2021, 2022) have been viewed through the theoretical lenses of biopower, and salutogenesis. The former theory has been applied to understand how these communities are sites of resistance against normative power structures and the disciplining logics of biopower. Through the corporeal intensity of sparring, training, and competition, practitioners negotiate autonomy, identity, and agency, thereby challenging the regulatory norms imposed on bodies in late modern societies. Rather than viewing martial arts solely as violent or hyper-masculine practices, the article emphasizes their potential to produce alternative subjectivities, solidarities, and forms of belonging that subvert dominant social orders (Sugden, 2022).

Yet, as Jump and Smithson (2020) effectively point out, martial arts do not constitute a silver bullet to complex social issues such as crime, even though it is often treated as such in the policy discourse. Instead, they argue, we are in dire need of understanding through which mechanisms martial art work to induce any sustainable social change. This can be said to be the core fundament of this paper, one that necessitates new focuses and theories. Specifically, despite the breadth and depth of both psychological and sociological research into martial arts, a notable gap remains in theorizing the interactive, embodied mechanisms through which psychosocial changes are cultivated. Psychological approaches tend to treat martial arts as environments that shape cognition and emotional regulation from the inside out. Sociological approaches, meanwhile, emphasize identity, structure, and symbolic reinvention—often drawing attention to space, culture, and moral order. Yet neither tradition fully addresses how the act of physically engaging with another person in rule-bound, reciprocal combat might generate trust, discipline, empathy, and transformation. It is at this precise juncture that the concept of RTP offers critical theoretical value.

Rough and Tumble Play

Originating in developmental psychology and ethology (Pellis & Pellis, 2007), RTP refers to a form of vigorous, physical interaction that mimics fighting but is governed by mutual restraint, turn-taking, and social negotiation. In this regard, RTP is considered “play fighting” (Smith & StGeorge, 2023). Due to the nature of RTP, its main research objects have often been activities between parents and children, and physical activities between peers (Smith & StGeorge, 2023; StGeorge & Fletcher, 2019). Another defining characteristic of this body of research is its gendered dimension; RTP is often researched in the context of father-sons, or between boys (Paquette et al., 2003).

Although it may look chaotic or aggressive, RTP is inherently cooperative: it requires participants to continuously read each other’s cues, regulate force, and repair ruptures in real time. It is not just play-fighting, but relational calibration through the body. This complex dynamic has led a range of scholars to assert that RTP seems “…to function for children as a compelling learning environment for social and emotional skills“ (StGeorge & Fletcher 2019, p. 1). Indeed, meta-analytical evidence substantiate how RTP do contribute to, for instance, socioemotional competence (StGeorge & Freeman, 2017). According to Peterson and Flanders (2005), RTP inherently requires children to develop and exercise self-regulatory skills. This is due not only to the emotionally arousing and physically intense nature of the play but also because its continuation depends on mutual willingness and cooperation. For RTP to be sustained, both parts must remain engaged on relatively equal terms. If one child (especially a physically stronger one) dominates the interaction to the point that the other cannot meaningfully participate, the play typically breaks down. Consequently, children involved in RTP often engage in self-handicapping, adjusting the strength, speed, or intensity of their actions to match their partner’s capabilities. This creates a form of ongoing negotiation, in which players must continually interpret and respond to each other’s cues. Through this process, RTP cultivates prosocial behaviors such as turn-taking, reciprocity, and sensitivity to others; qualities that rely on both competition and cooperation to maintain a playful, non-threatening dynamic.

Importantly, in doing so, RTP fosters not only individual control but also a form of embodied social negotiation. Children must attune to their partner’s responses, calibrate intensity, and repair moments of rupture to maintain the flow of interaction. It becomes a relational process characterized by reciprocity, trust, and mutual recognition, where roles of attacker and defender fluidly alternate. Thus, RTP serves as a crucible for both emotional self-regulation and the formation of social bonds, grounded in co-regulated physicality and shared vulnerability. In this paper, RTP serves as an additional complement in theorizing practices in gyms, that are linked to broader theories, such as that of narratives on desistance or masculinity transformation. In other words, RTP is completely dedicated towards understanding how social bonds develops in the context of sparring.

Rough and Tumble Play in the Martial Art Context

Martial arts, particularly in sparring contexts, can be understood as structured and socially regulated forms of RTP among adolescents and adults. Sparring is not merely a technical drill or competitive contest; it is a dyadic, collaborative practice that unfolds within a liminal space governed by mutual understanding and cultural norms (Kimmel & Rogler, 2019). In this space, physical confrontation becomes a context for affiliative interaction. As Clapton and Hiskey (2020, p. 3) suggest, martial arts training “…might be implicitly and explicitly entraining value-driven abilities to stay affiliatively engaged in conflict situations of high relational threat and end such conflicts by reaffiliating, with minimum harm done.” Whether through glove-touching, ritual bows, or hugs, martial arts embed moments of confrontation within reconciliatory rituals that re-establish trust and signal shared norms of care and respect.

These patterns mirror the core principles of RTP. Sparring requires partners to co-regulate, test boundaries, and explore dominance and vulnerability in safe, mutually defined ways. Rassovsky et al. (2019) describe such interactions as dyadic exchanges that actively promote prosocial behavior. In martial arts, learning does not happen in isolation but through physical negotiation with another person, often in high intensity, emotionally charged encounters. These moments cultivate affective sensitivity—participants must learn not only how to defend or strike, but when to back off, how to absorb tension, and how to reconnect afterward.

It is crucial to emphasize that RTP is not inherently prosocial or transformative. Its potential as a mechanism for emotional co-regulation and social bonding is deeply contingent on the context in which it unfolds. In martial arts clubs that emphasize respect, safety, and ethical engagement, RTP can become a medium for mutual attunement and trust. However, in toxic or hypermasculine environments—where dominance goes unchecked, emotional vulnerability is shamed, or coaches valorize aggression—these same physical practices can spiral into humiliation, exclusion, or harm. The effectiveness of RTP as a bonding mechanism thus hinges on the presence of supportive cultural norms, emotionally literate leadership, and a shared moral framework. In addition, in the gym environment, some research has shown that boxers earn their respect through adherence to the rules, showing discipline and fortitude, and not through overt display of aggression (Ryan et al., 2025).

In this sense, it is not RTP alone that prevents crime, but RTP as it is embedded within cohesive, caring, and well-structured club cultures. This framing aligns with broader findings in youth sport literature, which highlight that positive developmental outcomes are not produced by participation per se, but by the quality of relational and organizational environments in which that participation takes place (see e.g., Holt et al., 2017). At the same time, RTP should be situated within the wider criminological landscape. It does not replace established criminological explanations of crime causation or desistance; rather, it operates as a mechanism under their broader umbrella. For instance, through the lens of social control theory, sparring can be seen as a practice that strengthens bonds of attachment and commitment, thereby tying individuals more firmly to the group. From a social learning perspective, RTP constitutes a structured opportunity to model and reinforce prosocial norms in high intensity but normatively bounded contexts. From the vantage point of strain theory, it offers a culturally sanctioned outlet for frustration and aggression, converting potentially criminogenic emotions into legitimate forms of expression. And in routine activity terms, RTP embeds participants in supervised and time-structured routines, minimizing their exposure to criminogenic settings. Seen this way, RTP is best understood as a micro-level mechanism of action that enriches and grounds broader criminological theories. It specifies the embodied, affective, and relational dynamics through which martial arts training produces the kinds of protective processes long recognized in criminology, whether in terms of desistance, identity reconstruction, or social bonding. By highlighting how everyday sparring practices function as sites of co-regulation, trust, and controlled confrontation, RTP adds explanatory depth without displacing established theories, offering a fine-grained account of how martial arts can foster social integration and resilience in contexts where young people might otherwise be drawn toward crime.

Method

This study is part of a two-year research project funded by the Swedish Budo- and Martial Arts Federation, through a grant from the Swedish National Council for Crime Prevention. The project sought to investigate how martial arts clubs located in structurally disadvantaged areas may contribute to preventing youth involvement in gang-related criminality. These areas are typically characterized by high levels of socioeconomic marginalization, stigmatization, and concentrated exposure to organized crime. The central aim of the project is to explore the conditions under which martial arts associations function as protective and prosocial spaces for youth—and, critically, what specific factors within their organizational culture and physical practices might contribute to such outcomes.

Data Collection and Analysis

The empirical material consists of 52 semi-structured interviews conducted with both youth participants and coaches/instructors affiliated with martial arts clubs across various underserved neighborhoods in Sweden. Of these, 35 interviews were conducted with coaches, and 17 with practicing youths.

Participants were recruited through multiple approaches. Firstly, through purposive sampling, all martial arts clubs that partook in Idrottsklivet, a governmental initiative supporting sport-based social interventions in high-risk communities, were asked to partake through the Swedish Budo and Martial Arts Federation. Secondly, in addition, martial art clubs outside the initiative, but those which had a long-standing reputation for working in underserved areas, were recruited as well through a snowball-approach. The limitations of snowball-sampling are well-known; studies utilizing snowball sampling can never claim to be representative of the population they seek to study, and the included sample is always potentially affected by selection bias (Parker et al., 2019). The project was carried out in close collaboration with the Swedish Budo and Martial Arts Federation, one of the umbrella federations participating in Idrottsklivet. Given this institutional partnership and the sensitive nature of the data, high ethical standards were prioritized throughout the project. This is because there is only a limited number of associations that partake in Idrottsklivet, all which are known to the federations. All identifying information was heavily anonymized to protect participant confidentiality. The project received ethical approval from the National Ethical Review Authority and followed all national regulations regarding data handling, consent, and confidentiality. While it is not possible to disclose club or geographic identifiers, some general demographic features can be presented. Participants’ ages ranged from 19 to 61 among coaches, and from 16 to 22 among youths. Notably, several youths had progressed from participant roles into coaching or mentoring capacities within their clubs. The overwhelming majority of participants were men, reflecting broader gender trends in martial arts. A shared feature across all participants was their engagement with martial arts as a tool for social good, often explicitly tied to crime prevention, youth outreach, or community building. Athletic level varied across the sample: while many were amateur practitioners, others were national-level competitors or experienced coaches.

Interviews were conducted both in-person and via digital platforms, depending on accessibility and participant preference. Each interview lasted between 45 and 60 min. All interviews were audio recorded with informed consent and subsequently transcribed verbatim for analysis. The interview guide was developed based on extensive previous projects on the subject matter of sports associations’ work in underserved areas (Blomqvist Mickelsson, 2024, 2025; Blomqvist, 2022; Mickelsson, 2024b, 2024a) with the addition of multiple questions based on the literature on RTP adapted to martial arts (Blomqvist Mickelsson & Stylin, 2021). In the initial start of the project, the interview guide was piloted amongst “critical friends” and a select few representatives of martial arts associations. Specifically, the interview guide included questions about participants’ background, their experiences within the martial arts club, perceptions of their local area, and views on crime and social cohesion. Particular emphasis was placed on understanding whether, and how, martial arts training might function as a crime-preventative context. Special attention was given to how social relationships were formed, maintained, and negotiated within the gym, and how these processes were connected to the physical and embodied dimensions of martial arts practice. Participants were invited to reflect on how specific aspects of training (such as sparring, rituals, peer dynamics, or affective moments) contributed to feelings of trust, belonging, or behavioral change.

The interviews were analyzed using thematic analysis (Braun & Clarke, 2006), with a focus on identifying patterns related to social bonding, embodied interaction, and informal pedagogies of prosocial behavior. A hybrid inductive-deductive approach was used, where coding was informed both by the data itself and by existing theoretical frameworks, particularly RTP. This allowed for the exploration of how everyday training practices might function as embodied, co-regulated encounters through which emotional, moral, and social learning occur. Data collection continued until thematic sufficiency was achieved, meaning that additional interviews did not yield substantially new insights relevant to the research questions. While the study does not claim universal saturation, the recurrence of key patterns across participants indicated that the dataset was adequate for developing the themes presented.

Researcher Positionality

Some brief mentions about my research positionality are warranted here. As a researcher, I have been embedded within the Swedish sport movement and its social efforts for a long time, and I have published extensively on, specifically, how, and whether, martial arts can contribute towards youths’ psychosocial development. I have also maintained strong tied with the Swedish Budo and Martial Arts Federation, where we have jointly conducted multiple research projects. The collaborative nature of this, and many other papers, warrants careful attention to matters such as bias and outsider- and insider-positions. In these regards, I occupy both spaces of insider- and outsider. I am known to the martial arts community through my studies on these matters. At the same time, although being a martial arts practitioner myself, I have no personal contact or affiliation with any of the sport clubs, or the representatives, I have interviewed. In this study, I have therefore been conscious of my dual position and have worked reflexively to minimize the risk of bias, for example by discussing interpretations with colleagues and documenting my own assumptions and reactions during the analysis process. Written agreements with the Swedish Budo and Martial Arts Federation stipulate that I conducted this study and analyzed the data independently of the federation, regardless of any results that may emerge.

Results

Three overarching themes structure the findings. The first theme, (“Communities of care”) outlines the relational infrastructure that enables trust and affiliation within these martial arts spaces. The second theme (“Pushing boundaries without crossing them”) zooms in on the sparring context itself, illustrating how RTP becomes a site for emotional regulation, mutual recognition, and prosocial attunement. The third and final theme (“When RTP fails and turns toxic”) offers a critical counterpoint, highlighting how breakdowns in trust, leadership, or culture can invert RTP’s developmental potential and turn embodied interaction into a site of harm or exclusion. Taken together, these themes illustrate that the crime-preventative effects of martial arts cannot be reduced to individual behavior change or participation alone. Rather, they are emergent outcomes of interactional dynamics and culturally situated forms of physical co-regulation.

Communities of Care

Across the material, both youths and coaches frequently described the club as “…a home away from home” (Y1), or as “…a second family…” (C10), clearly highlighting many respondents’ perception of the martial art club as a relationally dense and healthy environment to be in.

For many participants, care was not articulated in emotional language per se, but through actions: being checked on after hard sparring, being welcomed despite a criminal past, being told to “show up” when life outside the gym was in chaos. These small, embodied gestures formed a routine choreography of concern, which built what one coach (C8) called “…a circle of trust you can feel, not just talk about….” Importantly, care in this setting did not mean softness. On the contrary, many described their club environment as strict, demanding, and uncompromising. But this discipline was interpreted as a sign of relational investment, not surveillance. One youth (Y18) explained: “… [coach name] doesn’t take any bullshit. But it’s because he wants us to stay in the gym, not the streets. He shows up for us, even when we don’t.” (Y18). In this sense, discipline is not punitive but protective, serving as a form of structuring care rather than control.

Another crucial component in the creation of care-oriented club cultures was the embodied presence of role models. In the material, this was most notably in the context of male coaches who held social capital both inside and outside the gym. Several youths spoke about their trainers with a mix of admiration and trust, not only because of their technical skill, but because of how they embodied respect without relying on fear or criminality: “I mean, [coach name], he’s hard, he’s a tough guy, without being a criminal. And that’s something we value, people know that [coach name] can bite but doesn’t bark” (Y12).

This form of non-criminal masculinity, visible and credible within local street economies, offered a counter-narrative to the hypermasculine scripts often associated with gang involvement (Deuchar et al., 2016). Coaches did not shy away from toughness, but rather reframed it as self-control, as protection, and as mentorship. One coach (C3) put it bluntly: “This is not school or social services […] many of us in here have been through a lot of stuff, and I think it’s much easier making that connection to youngsters in here with that personal knowledge. We kind of speak the same language, with the addition that I am older, and I have certain authority in here that they respect, at least eventually….” In this sense, coaches embodied forms of masculinity that retained elements of authority but were uncoupled from (street)violence, domination, or illegality. For youth negotiating masculinized street codes, where credibility often hinges on one’s capacity for threat, this offered a powerful alternative repertoire.

The importance of relational safety and non-criminal role models resonates strongly with Jump and Smithson’s (2020) work on boxing and desistance from crime. Based on ethnographic research in UK boxing clubs, Jump and Smitshon (2021) shows how these spaces allow young men to rework aggressive impulses and street identities through highly structured, affectively charged routines. Rather than seeing boxing as merely a vehicle for “venting” aggression, the gym is framed as a space where violence is ritualized, socialized, and given moral boundaries. Within this sanctuary, recognition is not earned through fear or street status, but through discipline, humility, and reciprocal respect. This echoes the logic of RTP, where physical confrontation is not antithetical to care but constitutive of it—provided it is bounded by trust and co-regulation. One of the strongest benefits of martial arts gyms in this respect seems to be that they, as Wacquant (2006, p. 31) puts it, provides “…islands of stability and order…”.

Pushing Boundaries But Never Crossing Them

While martial arts training involves physical intensity, pain, and confrontation, participants overwhelmingly framed sparring and contact drills as both influenced by competition as well as fairness and cooperation. What made this possible, according to both youth and coaches, was a shared understanding of limits. This was both an explicit agreement (where coaches communicated what rules were governing the gym ethic), but also a tacit agreement, embodied through continuous practice and experience. Notably, the more experienced practitioners- and coaches, naturally, were more in tune with this kind of tacit agreement. In short, although bodies were being tested, no one would be harmed or humiliated. This resonates with Chinkov and Holt’s (2016) findings, where jiu-jitsu practitioners systematically emphasize how the training environment is set up for people to develop in, not to be humiliated in.

This theme, what many described as “…going hard but fair…” (C8), illustrates how RTP unfolds in structured martial arts environments. The very act of sparring becomes a negotiated relationship, where participants co-regulate intensity, repair ruptures, and ensure that aggression remains affiliative rather than adversarial. Importantly, one coach (C43) outlined the delicate balance between competing and pushing each other vis-à-vis caring for each other:

You test each other, right? We push each other. That’s a core thing in martial arts, that’s where we develop physically and mentally. But you also look after each other. If someone looks gassed, or is feeling off, you ease off. Nothing good comes out of beating the shit out of someone who can’t defend themselves, there is no learning process in that.

Here, as this respondent explains, it is not only about caring, but also an actual element of the learning and pedagogy. The pedagogical logic is inseparable from the relational one. Sparring becomes a way to practice affiliative aggression; the ability to stay physically assertive and emotionally attuned at once. This dynamic mirrors the core mechanics of RTP, where mutual consent, repair, and adaptation are necessary to sustain the play. In this context, force is not the opposite of care, but one of its expressions. The development of this shared ethos was understood as both an explicit teaching—what coaches modeled and articulated—and a tacit culture built through repetition. As many coaches noted, newcomers often had to learn the “code of contact”—when to press, when to hold back, how to read a partner’s emotional state—and only then could they fully participate in the club’s relational world. This embodied experience was articulated by one youth (Y11) as follows:

I think it comes with experience, you know you stick around for a while and you get more like a feeling for what is right and what is wrong […] it’s unwritten, it’s in the walls. You see how people behave, how [coach name] behaves, and you learn that respect isn’t just bowing or stuff like that, it’s how you train, how you react when someone is hurt, what you do after the rounds are finished and things like that…

As this suggests, sparring was as much about affective learning as technical development. This is consistent with Chinkov and Holt’s (2016) findings in Brazilian jiu-jitsu gyms, where practitioners attributed personal growth to the gym’s emotional safety and mutual respect, not just to the sport’s structure. Indeed, participants repeatedly emphasized how trust and care were not abstract values but embedded in the embodied rituals of the gym. Another youth noted:

They’re your friends, like, when someone gets seriously choked out [unconscious] or knocked out by accident, it is treated seriously, and we are concerned for real. Even if this is an individual sport, the club is the only team you have. If you hurt your training partners, who will you train with? We depend on each other, and we cheer on to one another here. (Y20)

This underscores the social logic of sparring: injury or domination erodes the very relational infrastructure that training depends on. Echoing findings by Chinkov and Holt (2016), participants emphasized trust as essential not only for safety, but for motivation, learning, and cohesion. Another coach captured the affective climax of these encounters:

It’s a great feeling […] like, you finish a superhard workout and the bell rings […] you shake hand with your partner, and you almost feel like you both made it. Both are bruised and really tired and we’ve been battering each other, and pushed each other, and both have developed this one percent every day that we often talk about. I think that’s a feeling everyone who trains MMA [mixed martial arts] knows (C29)

Moments of exhaustion or pain were often described as shared trials that bonded participants through what this coach (C29) called “…mutual hardship….” These moments allowed emotional expression to surface in masculine-coded environments, legitimated through the physical language of the sport. This moment of ritual reconciliation, whether it’s a handshake, nod, or verbal praise, embeds RTP’s logic of rupture-and-repair into the martial arts culture. The bond formed is not incidental; it is built precisely through physical vulnerability, mutual risk-taking, and the shared effort of perseverance. Chinkov and Holt (2016) found that, in Brazilian jiu-jitsu gyms, most participants attributed their newly acquired life-skills to values and skills that were reflected in the sport, most notably respect- and caring for one another, and the value of perseverance.

To summarize, this theme highlights how structured sparring becomes a site for cultivating prosocial emotional dispositions, particularly trust, care, and empathy, in a way that remains legible within local masculine frameworks. These are not incidental byproducts, but intrinsic to the relational mechanics of RTP. The capacity to push each other without harming, to dominate without humiliating, to compete without dehumanizing are the very social competencies that build not only strong gym cultures, but hopefully protective peer networks that can, at least partially, buffer against isolation, alienation, and criminal recruitment.

When RTP Fails or Turns Toxic

Importantly, while the act of sparring in itself is one out of many potential key mechanisms for initiating relationships between participants, it was also evident that this particular act also is associated with a relatively high degree of risk in many aspects. Specifically, RTP risked “turning toxic,” if it was unsupervised and conducted in settings that felt unsafe.

Across interviews, coaches and youths acknowledged that sparring is not inherently prosocial but instead something that is conditioned by its context and relational elements. One coach (C15) put it like this: “…like, when you go visit a gym you have no connection to, it has happened that I felt like, they’re out to get me you know [in sparring]. If that happens and you end up in hard sparring, obviously, that can be uncomfortable.”

The feeling of them being “out to get me” was emphasized by this coach, showing that a core criteria of healthy RTP had been crossed; it seemed to lack some sort of mutual understanding of what the sparring was for, and turned into a contest of domination. This could be interpreted as a breakdown in co-regulation, and that the interaction is no longer a part of a social scaffolding. While not articulated as such by the participants themselves, it was clear that the core principles of healthy RTP also guided their understanding, and interpretation, of what “healthy” sparring actually looked like. In a similar vein, another coach (C39) talked about the history of his martial art gym, and the occurrence of a particular type of individual in each gym:

You always have that one random dude who never seems to be able or willing to hold back [in sparring]. I think all clubs encounter this at some point. In my experience this guy often leaves, or learn as we go, but it’s a hazard when you constantly have to keep an eye on that particular individual. Also, that kind of dynamic can do stuff with the group dynamic […] if you feel afraid of getting hurt when you turn up for practice, it clearly won’t be a very enjoyable session for you, and I think it’s very rare to see these people get along even outside the ring…

Here, this coach directly address how poor sparring can affect the social dynamic within martial arts gym. Poorly conducted sparring and its consequences are not always limited to the confines of the martial art gym, instead, they risk being transmitted to the social relationships that are created in the martial art gym. The presence of hyperaggressive members can both harm the dyadic interaction, but also ultimately undermine the integrity of the collective environment if such interactions are not addressed adequately.

Crucially, when sparring becomes unpredictable, humiliating, or fear-inducing, it can also destabilize the self-narratives that many of these young men are actively trying to construct. Accordingly, instead of the martial art gym becoming a safe space where these masculinities are transformed through re-construction of these youths’ narratives (Deuchar et al., 2016; Jump & Smithson, 2021), poorly conducted sparring can destabilize the identity work that many of these youths are engaged in. This is because the gym loses its function as an arena for alternative capital, and, ironically, may, at least partially, replicate street logic of fear and domination. This may undermine the established (moral) order, and trap youths between the pull of old identities and the failure of new ones to materialize. As another coach (C28) stated:

Something we’ve noticed in these [bad] encounters is that it may become some sort of rupture in the work we’re doing with youths […] like, if we can explain that saying, that sometimes you’re the hammer and sometimes you’re the nail, and that’s part of the game, part of the development in becoming a good martial artist, then such an encounter may not affect them as much. But I’ve definitely seen a good couple of youths who come in and end up in a pretty intense sparring session where you feel like, okey, he brings the street with him in here, and for our work here, that’s not beneficial […] and, if this kid gets beaten in such an encounter, it feels like it gets to them mentally…

As this coach effectively address, there are multiple things going on here. One thing mentioned here is the simple nature of evolution and development in martial arts, phrased as “sometimes you’re the hammer, sometimes you’re the nail” type-of-mentality, which guide pedagogy. Across the material, it is evident that this rhetoric does not mean that sparring is justified and conducted in a poor fashion, but rather that youths are trained to persevere even though things are not going their way, ultimately developing resilience, adaptability and humility.

Yet this narrative of development is fragile—particularly for young men still entangled in street-coded understandings of pride, dominance, and respect. In the coach’s example, when a youth “brings the street with him,” the sparring space risks collapsing into a continuation of prior hierarchies and threat-responses. If that youth is then physically defeated, especially in a setting perceived as hostile or performative, the experience can create a rupture in the developmental trajectory the club is trying to foster. Instead of absorbing the loss as part of growth, the youth may interpret it as humiliation or public failure, triggering withdrawal or defensive posturing. In this way, the encounter becomes more than just a failed sparring session. It becomes a narrative disruption, particularly for those trying to shift from street-based to sport-based masculinities. These moments, when not carefully processed or supported, threaten to undo trust and destabilize the gym’s role as a space of psychological and social recalibration. Coaches thus find themselves navigating a complex emotional terrain: pushing youths to accept vulnerability and loss as developmental, while simultaneously protecting them from relational harm that might reinforce exactly the patterns they are trying to unlearn.

All in all, much of this results section point to what has been known for a long time in the broader sport literature: that sport, and martial arts, in itself is not a panacea to social ills. As noted by a range of boxing scholars (e.g., Jump & Blakemore, 2022), it is easy to round up interested youths in a boxing gym, and walk away, hoping that “change” will occur automatically. Yet, as noted here, and as noted by Jump and Smithson (2020), great attention needs to be paid to the mechanisms within the martial arts gym that presumably need to be there to induce any type of change.

Discussion and Conclusion

Much has been written about martial arts’ ability (or inability) to address complex social issues, particularly those relating to crime. Yet, as several scholars have observed (Jump, 2021; Jump & Smithson, 2020), empirical evidence on its effectiveness remains mixed, and the mechanisms of change are poorly understood. In this article, I have sought to contribute to that debate by examining sparring as a relational and embodied practice. Rather than claiming direct crime reduction effects, I argue that sparring generates affiliative ties and symbolic resources that may indirectly support processes long recognized in criminology as protective against offending.

One of the strongest contributions of this study is the articulation of non-criminal capital. Prior research shows that young men in disadvantaged or gang-prone contexts often seek recognition and status rather than violence itself (Deuchar et al., 2016; Jump, 2021). Martial arts provide a socially sanctioned arena in which toughness and credibility can be retained, but redefined through discipline, respect, and mentorship. My findings echo Deuchar et al.’s (2016) study of boxing, where aggression was translated into symbolic capital that carried legitimacy in both local street economies and mainstream society. They also resonate with Wacquant’s (2006) ethnography of a Chicago boxing gym, which demonstrated how bodily discipline transformed “street” masculinities into forms of dignity and order. In the present analysis, sparring emerged as a stage on which “respectable toughness” was proven. This can be viewed as a repertoire that allowed young men to negotiate status hierarchies without relying on illegality. By framing these dynamics as non-criminal capital, I extend criminological discussions of social and cultural capital (Sampson et al., 1997) to capture the embodied resources young people mobilize in navigating street codes.

Sparring also reflects the core dynamics of RTP. Participants described moments of co-regulation, role fluidity, and repair after rupture, all of which are principles identified in psychological and ethological research as central to prosocial development (Pellis & Pellis, 2007; Rassovsky et al., 2019). In martial arts settings, these principles become embodied in rituals such as glove-touching, lightening intensity after a hard strike, or re-establishing trust after conflict. Such interactions created spaces where aggression could be explored without rupture, and where vulnerability could be normalized rather than shamed. This extends criminological theory by showing how affiliative ties are forged not only through abstract bonds of trust or neighborhood efficacy (Sampson et al., 1997), but also through tactile, embodied co-action. RTP therefore operates as a micro-mechanism that clarifies how social bonds are enacted in practice.

It is important, however, to temper claims about crime prevention. The interviews demonstrate affiliation, trust, and the construction of non-criminal capital, but they do not establish behavioral outcomes such as reduced offending or desistance. The findings should therefore be read as suggestive rather than causal. In criminological terms, the relevance lies in how sparring supports processes already theorized as protective: the strengthening of attachments (Hirschi, 1969), the reinforcement of prosocial norms (Akers, 1998), the availability of alternative identities, and the provision of structured routines (Cohen & Felson, 1979). By situating RTP within these frameworks, I argue that martial arts do not bypass criminological theory but rather enrich it by providing a finer-grained account of the embodied, relational dynamics at play.

The analysis also shows the contingent nature of martial arts as developmental spaces. When club cultures emphasize safety, respect, and care, sparring can serve as a vehicle for affiliation and the cultivation of non-criminal capital. Yet, as noted in other studies (Ryan et al., 2025), respect is earned through discipline and rule-following rather than overt aggression, and when those conditions are absent the opposite may occur. In environments that valorize domination or humiliation, sparring risks reproducing status violence rather than transforming it. This double potential mirrors findings in youth sport research, which shows that outcomes depend less on participation per se than on the relational and organizational context (Fraser-Thomas et al., 2005; Holt et al., 2017).

Some limitations of the current study, and some implications for further research, are warranted. The findings focus on relational processes and do not include behavioral outcomes such as reduced offending or desistance. Future studies could therefore combine qualitative inquiry with longitudinal measures of criminal involvement or institutional contact to examine how the affiliative dynamics observed here translate into life-course transitions. Moreover, while this article has largely centred on young men due to the empirical realities of the settings studied, future research should explore how RTP unfolds across gendered, cultural, and socioeconomic contexts, including among girls and women whose pathways to recognition and belonging may differ significantly. Finally, although the present findings highlight the constructive potential of sparring, they also show that ethical leadership and cultural norms are central in determining whether RTP becomes prosocial or harmful. Future research would therefore benefit from examining coach training, governance structures, and safeguarding practices to better identify the organizational conditions under which martial arts can support socially meaningful change.

Taken together, the findings suggest that martial arts should not be understood as a “panacea” for crime prevention (Jump & Smithson, 2020), but as a contingent social practice whose crime-relevant potential lies in its relational architecture. Sparring offers a distinctive micro-social mechanism through which affiliation, trust, and non-criminal capital can be cultivated, but these processes only flourish when embedded in cohesive and ethically grounded training cultures. For criminology, the contribution of RTP is thus to illuminate how such processes unfold in practice, that is, through the grind of embodied co-action rather than the abstractions of policy.