Ronda Rousey hits Liz Carmouche during their 2013 title fight. Photo: Jeff Gross/Getty Images
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Why the UFC is treating its female fighters better than (almost) any other sport

It’s not just the money – Ultimate Fighting Championship has appreciated that women aren’t good fighters considering their gender. They’re simply good fighters.

Ronda Rousey, Olympic bronze medallist, Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) bantamweight women’s champion and Pokémon fan, is probably one of the greatest fighters who has ever lived. By way of an example, she finished her last fight in 16 seconds – 16 seconds in which she managed to stun her opponent with a right cross, catch her in a Thai clinch, hit her with a knee, throw her with a flawless harai goshi, and rain down a dozen unanswered punches from a kesa-gatame scarf hold before the referee could step in. Previous title defences have been similar – only one of Rousey’s ten fights has lasted longer than a single five-minute round, and even that outlier ended with her trademark armbar. It’s a string of performances that have led UFC president Dana White to compare her to a prime Mike Tyson, and to CEO Lorenzo Fertitta calling her the “most impressive athlete” in the organisation’s history.

The Ultimate Fighting Championship, the world’s most successful mixed martial arts organisation, is probably not the first place you’d look for gender equality in sport. They still have ring – sorry, *Octagon* – girls, for instance, two of whom have appeared in Playboy. An ad campaign for the twentieth series of the Ultimate Fighter reality series, designed to crown the first strawweight women’s champion, attracted fire for dressing its stars in heels and lipstick, calling them “easy on the eyes and hard on the face” – not an approach that the show has ever taken to male athletes. And, as recently as 2011, UFC president Dana White said that women would “never” fight in the organisation.

But that last part has changed, and fast. A large part of this is down to Rousey, who is a marketing team’s dream – she trains with an intensity that’s rarely seen in the male champs’ behind-the-scenes reels, but happily goofs off with her younger sister between sparring and bagwork. She’s ferocious when she feels slighted – on Twitter and in person – but she’ll happily chat about her love for World of Warcraft and her time as a moderator on a Pokémon forum. She comes out to Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation”. She popped up in The Expendables 3. She asked pro-wrestler “Rowdy” Roddy Piper for permission to use his nickname, and she calls judo legend Gene LeBell – who supposedly once choked Steven Seagal unconscious – her “uncle”.

But more importantly, at least for the UFC’s core fanbase, she, and the women she fights, are every bit the equal of the men, bringing skills and moves to the Octagon that have never been seen before in the rapidly-evolving sport. Rousey, for instance, uses pure judo more successfully than any other fighter ever has, combining throws in sequences that fans delight in breaking down. When she fought Olympic silver-medal wrestler Sarah McMann (in, incidentally, the sport’s first double-Olympian matchup), it wasn’t enough, and so her style evolved to include some of the most painful-looking body shots ever to feature on a highlight reel. Other matches since the women’s division’s inception have featured roughly the same ratio of terrifying high-amplitude slams, clinical knockouts, dramatic submission holds and technical grinders as those seen elsewhere on the card, to much the same crowd reaction. These women aren’t good fighters considering their gender, the majority of fans understand – they’re simply good fighters.

And so, the UFC have responded – fairly admirably, in fact. Unlike, say, Premier League football, they’ve been using female referees in main events since 2009, and somehow managed to avoid any pundits suggesting that paid professionals might not understand the rules. Unlike in tennis, there’s never been any suggestion that women should fight fewer rounds, or for less time, or with more stringent rules in any other sense. And unlike almost every other sport (apart from possibly athletics) the women get respect, pay and visibility on essentially the same terms as the men. Rousey’s first bout – she was awarded the belt before the fight, after winning a title in another organisation – she headlined the card, above former champions Lyoto Machida and Dan Henderson, and she’s been the main or co-main event ever since. She’s reluctant to discuss her final payouts (which include undisclosed locker-room bonuses and pay-per-view (PPV) points), but her last fight made her at least $120,000, putting her ahead of all but a handful of the organisation’s most PPV-friendly men. The UFC even managed to handle a main event with their first openly gay fighter – former marine Liz Carmouche – more respectfully than virtually any other sport has done to date, interviewing Carmouche’s girlfriend in the pre-fight video after president Dana White praised her courage in coming out and voiced his support for gay marriage.

Yes, a lot of this is down to capitalism. And yes, a lot of it is down to Rousey. But it’s a heartening series of events. Because it suggests that, left to their own devices, the XBone-and-Snapchat generation, despite their worst excesses, can appreciate female athletes for the same reasons as their male counterparts. That sports fans, all over the world, will pay the same money to see them. And that, for a huge amount of people, what really counts is an exciting fight, conducted with breathtaking levels of skill and creative violence. So the only real question is: why aren’t any other sports paying attention?

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Labour's establishment suspects a Momentum conspiracy - they're right

Bernie Sanders-style organisers are determined to rewire the party's machine.  

If you wanted to understand the basic dynamics of this year’s Labour leadership contest, Brighton and Hove District Labour Party is a good microcosm. On Saturday 9 July, a day before Angela Eagle was to announce her leadership bid, hundreds of members flooded into its AGM. Despite the room having a capacity of over 250, the meeting had to be held in three batches, with members forming an orderly queue. The result of the massive turnout was clear in political terms – pro-Corbyn candidates won every position on the local executive committee. 

Many in the room hailed the turnout and the result. But others claimed that some in the crowd had engaged in abuse and harassment.The national party decided that, rather than first investigate individuals, it would suspend Brighton and Hove. Add this to the national ban on local meetings and events during the leadership election, and it is easy to see why Labour seems to have an uneasy relationship with mass politics. To put it a less neutral way, the party machine is in a state of open warfare against Corbyn and his supporters.

Brighton and Hove illustrates how local activists have continued to organise – in an even more innovative and effective way than before. On Thursday 21 July, the week following the CLP’s suspension, the local Momentum group organised a mass meeting. More than 200 people showed up, with the mood defiant and pumped up.  Rather than listen to speeches, the room then became a road test for a new "campaign meetup", a more modestly titled version of the "barnstorms" used by the Bernie Sanders campaign. Activists broke up into small groups to discuss the strategy of the campaign and then even smaller groups to organise action on a very local level. By the end of the night, 20 phonebanking sessions had been planned at a branch level over the following week. 

In the past, organising inside the Labour Party was seen as a slightly cloak and dagger affair. When the Labour Party bureaucracy expelled leftwing activists in past decades, many on went further underground, organising in semi-secrecy. Now, Momentum is doing the exact opposite. 

The emphasis of the Corbyn campaign is on making its strategy, volunteer hubs and events listings as open and accessible as possible. Interactive maps will allow local activists to advertise hundreds of events, and then contact people in their area. When they gather to phonebank in they will be using a custom-built web app which will enable tens of thousands of callers to ring hundreds of thousands of numbers, from wherever they are.

As Momentum has learned to its cost, there is a trade-off between a campaign’s openness and its ability to stage manage events. But in the new politics of the Labour party, in which both the numbers of interested people and the capacity to connect with them directly are increasing exponentially, there is simply no contest. In order to win the next general election, Labour will have to master these tactics on a much bigger scale. The leadership election is the road test. 

Even many moderates seem to accept that the days of simply triangulating towards the centre and getting cozy with the Murdoch press are over. Labour needs to reach people and communities directly with an ambitious digital strategy and an army of self-organising activists. It is this kind of mass politics that delivered a "no" vote in Greece’s referendum on the terms of the Eurozone bailout last summer – defying pretty much the whole of the media, business and political establishment. 

The problem for Corbyn's challenger, Owen Smith, is that many of his backers have an open problem with this type of mass politics. Rather than investigate allegations of abuse, they have supported the suspension of CLPs. Rather than seeing the heightened emotions that come with mass mobilisations as side-effects which needs to be controlled, they have sought to joins unconnected acts of harassment, in order to smear Jeremy Corbyn. The MP Ben Bradshaw has even seemed to accuse Momentum of organising a conspiracy to physically attack Labour MPs.

The real conspiracy is much bigger than that. Hundreds of thousands of people are arriving, enthusiastic and determined, into the Labour party. These people, and their ability to convince the communities of which they are a part, threaten Britain’s political equilibrium, both the Conservatives and the Labour establishment. When the greatest hope for Labour becomes your greatest nightmare, you have good call to feel alarmed.