6/5/2025 | Sports | AU
The decision to block a bare-knuckle fighting event in Perth has reignited a simmering cultural conflict: At what point does society’s duty to protect outweigh an individual’s right to risk their own body? When Western Australia’s Combat Sports Commission rejected the application, they didn’t just cancel an event—they waded into a minefield of ethical dilemmas that mirror our era’s obsession with boundary-pushing entertainment.
Let’s be clear—this isn’t about boxing as we know it. No padded gloves. No quarter given. Australian Medical Association WA President Michael Page spells out the stakes: repeated head trauma doesn’t just mean immediate injuries, but potential lifetime consequences like chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), the degenerative brain condition that’s ravaged countless athletes. We’ve seen the tragic aftermath in NFL players and UFC fighters. Now imagine those impacts occurring faster, harder, without even the superficial protection of wrapped fists.
Yet beneath these medical warnings lurks an uncomfortable truth about modern spectatorship. Our entertainment consumption has become increasingly visceral—from TikTok’s algorithm favoring extreme stunts to rising UFC pay-per-view numbers. The same culture that recoils at bare-knuckle bouts binges on MMA highlights and true crime reenactments. There’s hypocrisy here: we moralize about safety while craving ever-more intense dopamine hits from our screens.
Tourism workers near Perth Arena, where tickets were already being advertised, now face lost wages. Local vendors lose foot traffic. For fighters like Bec Rawlings, it’s another door closing in a career already constrained by Australia’s strict combat sport regulations. These are real people caught between policy debates and punchlines.
Historically, prohibitions rarely erase demand—they just drive activities underground. New South Wales learned this in 1986 when banning professional wrestling led to dangerous, unregulated “tent shows.” Even the commission’s Bob Kucera acknowledges this paradox. Meanwhile, America’s Bare Knuckle Fighting Championship thrives, with events in 26 states demonstrating how legalization can bring oversight to high-risk sports.
The WA government now walks a tightrope. Overregulate, and risk being labeled paternalistic. Underregulate, and face blame for preventable tragedies. Their decision arrives amidst growing scrutiny of contact sports’ neurological impacts—from the AFL’s concussion protocols to World Rugby’s recent rule changes. Globally, institutions are recalibrating acceptable risks in sports, making Perth’s choice less about this single event than about Australia’s stance in that broader reckoning.
Perhaps the most telling detail? Ticket sales launched before approval. That brash confidence reflects our era’s monetization of pain, where combat sports have evolved from last-resort livelihoods to premium entertainment. As we debate this ban, we must ask: Are we protecting athletes from exploitation, or protecting ourselves from acknowledging what our viewership encourages?
Legal Disclaimer This opinion piece is a creative commentary based on publicly available news reports and events. It is intended for informational and educational purposes only. The views expressed are those of the author and do not constitute professional, legal, medical, or financial advice. Always consult with qualified experts regarding your specific circumstances.
By George Thompson, this article was inspired by this source.