Forging, Competing, Confronting: The Evolution of Taekwondo Through Its Sparring Terms

This article (or versions of it) was previously printed also in Hoonlyun Magazine (2025) and in Totally Tae Kwon Do Magazine (February 2026, Issue 204). Several of the ideas in this article has been discussed on this blog through the years, which readers might recognise, but reassembled here in a more coherent argument. 

Forging, Competing, Confronting: The Evolution of Taekwondo Through Its Sparring Terms

By Dr. Sanko Lewis

In the foundational years of Taekwon-Do, the term daeryeon 대련 was used for sparring. As Taekwon-Do evolved, other terms were chosen in Kukki / WT Taekwondo and ITF Taekwon-Do respectively. One reason for these name changes was the continued decolonization project of the time. In Taekwondo, many terms that had Japanese or Chinese origins were replaced with native Korean words. Thus, the Sjino-Korea word daeryeon made way for the native Korean word gyeorugi 겨루기 in the Kukki Taekwondo circles, while the chosen word for sparring in ITF Taekwon-Do became matseogi 맞서기. 

Daeryeon, Gyeorugi, and Matseogi 

Gyeorugi is a conjugation of the verb gyeoruda 겨루다, a term from Middle Korean (13th century), which means to compete, or content with, or to pit one’s skill against. This semantic nuance better describe the change that was occurring within Kukki Taekwondo. The inflection gyeorugi, in the context of martial arts, basically means to dual, or to fight as in a competition. There is an obvious sport or competitive connotation to the term. Although, the English translation of gyeorugi as “sparring” is acceptable, “competing” or “competition sparring” are better translations. On 25-27 May 1973, the Kukkiwon hosted the first Taekwondo World Championships where after the World Taekwondo Federation (now simply known as World Taekwondo) was founded. World Taekwondo and their world championships have one primary focus: competition sparring, i.e. gyeorugi. It was around this time (early 1970s) that the semantic switch from daeryeon to gyeorugi occurred. This change in terminology reveals the new teleological focus within WT style Taekwondo away from the earlier telos. 

The previous term, daeryeon, based on the Chinese characters 對鍊, has a very different connotation. The first character 對 connotes the proper or correct way to approach something, while the second character 鍊 means to smelt, forge, or refine something; as a compound word, these characters translate as fighting, duelling, or sparring in Korean. But connotatively it is not simply fighting—not competition sparring as implied by gyeorugi. Instead, it is a type of activity in which you forge yourself. In other words, to toughen or condition yourself through combat. Incidentally, daeryeon is related to another common word found in Taekwon-Do, namely danryeon 단련 (鍛鍊) (pronounced: “dallyon”), which we usually translate roughly as “conditioning”, but really means something like hardening (forging, tempering, refining) through disciplined activity. For instance, doing knuckle pushups to condition your fists is a form of danryeon. Hence—in a deeper sense—daeryeon can be understood as a means of improving oneself through the act of sparring. Before Kukki/Taekwondo became a sport, it was primarily conceived as a martial art for self-development (an idea inherited from Japanese Karate-Do), so the term daeryeon (i.e., an activity of “forging”) was semantically fitting. However, this changed with the shift towards combat sport (i.e., competition). 

ITF Taekwon-Do would also change their term for sparring. In the early 1970s, ITF Taekwon-Do material still used daeryeon 대련, but in 1975 in the second edition of General Choi Hong Hi’s “Taekwon-Do Handbook” (“태권도 교서”) daeryeon was replaced with matseogi 맞서기. Unlike gyeorugi that denotes competition, matseogi has a more curious meaning, which surprisingly doesn’t directly translate as sparring. General Choi could easily have chosen more appropriate “sparring” synonyms such as jeontu 전투 (“combat”) or gyeoltu 결투(“duelling”), but instead he opted for matseogi. The word choice was obviously deliberate. There are two ways to interpret the meaning of matseogi. The first way is not exactly correct, but it is useful, as we will see. In this first interpretation, we can understand the meaning of matseogi by considering it as a compound word: “mat” 맞- and “seogi” 서기. The former, based on the verb matda 맞다 means to face something, as when you turn your body towards someone to greet them. While seogi, based on the verb seoda 서다, literally means to stand up. If we were to read “mat-seogi” in this way, within the context of Taekwon-Do, it simply means to take in a position facing your training partner during practice. This interpretation seems very appropriate when we consider the pre-arranged sparring exercises known as yagsok matseogi 약속 맞서기 where attack and defence techniques are practised with and against training partners. 

The second way to interpret matseogi is how it is usually understood—as an inflection of the verb matseoda 맞서다, which means “to oppose, to confront, to stand up to, or stand against, to face an enemy, or resist a force.” A Korean synonym is daeriphada” 대립하다, meaning to stand your ground. The philosophical implications ought to be obvious. Practicing matseogi is more than sparring drills. It’s a symbolic action of facing one’s fears, of not cowering from one’s problems but confronting them, not shying from difficulties but learning how to overcome them, of the willingness to face an enemy. At first what we face are “simple” problems, like when we do three-step sparring. However, with time, as our skill level increases, so does the complexity, the resistance, the risk. But it is this very possibility of risk, of pain, and our willingness to face it that builds resilience and courage. And here is the crux: matseogi—the willingness to face something difficult and learn to overcome it—is one of the ways in which we grow in courage to be able to literally face and confront (i.e., matseogi) injustice. This is part of ITF Taekwon-Do’s moral oath: to fight for “freedom and justice” so that we can “build a more peaceful world.” ITF’s matseogi, then, is somewhat similar to daeryeon, as it implies facing something or someone, but there is a further moral connotation of standing up for (a victim), standing up against (a bully), or confronting (an injustice). 

The Problem with ITF Sparring 

As the preceding semantic exposition makes clear, the purpose of sparring in ITF Taekwon-Do was to prepare the practitioner of ITF Taekwon-Do as the “Korean art of self-defence,” as its founder defined it, for the purpose of being “champions of freedom and justice” so to “build a more peaceful word”—these are part of the Taekwon-Do Oath that all ITF practitioners frequently recite. All sparring exercises, from three-step sparring (sambo matseogi 삼보 맞서기), two-step sparring (ibo matseogi 이보 맞서기), one-step sparring (ilbo matseogi 일보 맞서기), semi-free sparring (ban jayu matsogi 반 자유 맞서기), and free sparring (jayu matsogi 자유 맞서기) were supposed to progressively prepare the practitioner for self-defence by taking them from very simple combative mimicry to “unrestricted” or “free” sparring that is “essentially open combat” where there is “no prearranged mode between players, and both participants are completely free to attack and defend with all available means and methods”. (ITF Taekwon-Do Encyclopedia, Vol. 5, p. 244). 

The idea is sensible: beginners practice easy, light exercises to get them used to certain principles of combat such as understanding the centre-line, learning basic guarding and blocking manoeuvres, and simple attacks and counter-attacks; and then as they progress the combative scenario becomes more complex and slowly more realistic, until they reach a level of competence to defend against a resisting opponent, in what modern combat systems call “reality based” training. 

However, since there was no protective gear at the time, free sparring required much more limitations to prevent serious injury. For this reason, free sparring was trained as “no-contact” or “light contact”. (Consider for instance doing a finger-poke to the eye: during sparring practice you wouldn’t actually put your finger in your training partners eye, so in this case “no-contact” applies. Similarly, consider a kick to the scrotum: again, a “light-contact” tap would be enough.) 

Unfortunately, most ITF schools have lost this original self-defence preparation purpose. The reason? The term jayu matseogi (“free sparring”) became appropriated for competition sparring at ITF competitions. General Choi initially did not allow hard-contact sparring as he believed that full-contact practice of Taekwon-Do techniques would be too dangerous. This was a carryover from Karate which believed that even a single Karate blow is likely to be lethal. Therefore, pre-arranged sparring exercises that prohibited contact were devised. The Father of Modern Karate, “Funakoshi only reluctantly introduced free, non-contact sparring” (Moenig, U. 2016. Taekwondo: From Martial Art to Martial Sport). Korean Karate and later Taekwon-Do training followed the same restrictions. 

Of course, in both Kukki/WT Taekwondo and in ITF Taekwon-Do the no-contact constraint was in time abandoned for free sparring that did allow contact. It is not exactly certain when General Choi changed his mind on the matter of sparring. Nevertheless, the ITF hosted its first ITF Taekwon-Do World Championships, held in Montreal, Canada, in 1974, marking the organisation’s full embrace of competitive sparring. This was indeed contact sparring and not simply no-contact. By the late 1970s, Jhoon Rhee’s innovation of sparring gear was also adopted by General Choi and the ITF. This addition established a framework for safe, continuous sparring, which became standardized as ITF competition sparring. The ITF changed its stance from “no-contact” competition sparring to “semi-contact” competition sparring. It is important to note that, “semi-contact” doesn’t just mean “light contact”, but rather actual-but-controlled contact with proper technique. This is differentiated from “full contact,” which in ITF means bad techniques involving wild, uncontrolled swings and loss of self-control resulting in “excessive force”. To ensure conformity, wild flurries of kicks and strikes are not awarded points, and “excessive force” is penalized. 

The problem is that the ITF never adopted a specific term for competition sparring and notably avoided the term gyeorugi despite its appropriateness. The reason for this was probably to ensure differentiation from the World Taekwondo (WT) which held its first World Championships in 1973, one year earlier than the ITF’s first World Championships. Instead of gyeorugi, the existing term jayu matseogi came to be used for competition sparring as well. This terminological overlap had significant consequences. 

As jayu matseogi became synonymous with competition sparring, its original meaning—unrestricted sparring for self-defence practise—gradually faded. The traditional learning progression, which involved increasingly complex variations of matseogi leading to authentic free sparring, largely disappeared. While most ITF schools continue to teach self-defence, it is typically limited to pre-arranged technical sequences, such as wrist-grab releases, rather than reality-based sparring. Only a few isolated schools and national organizations maintain the practice of both competition sparring and true free sparring, i.e. real jayu matseogi, aimed at comprehensive self-defence training. 

The resolution to this terminological confusion is straightforward: ITF organizations should implement a clear distinction between their two forms of free sparring practice. The term jayu matseogi should be restored to its original meaning of free sparring for self-defence training, while competition sparring should be designated as gyeorugi—its proper Korean term, as used in WT. Adopting gyeorugi for competition sparring need not be seen as copying WT, but rather as using the correct Korean term for this specific activity. This simple terminological distinction would help schools maintain both the competitive aspect enjoyed at tournaments and the practical self-defence training, providing students with a more complete martial arts education. 

The Problem with WT Sparring 

Meanwhile, the transition of Kukki Taekwondo to sport-focused gyeorugi unexpectedly enhanced its overall effectiveness and led to significant technical advances. The emphasis on full-contact competition fostered the development of exceptionally fast and powerful kicks, complemented by sophisticated defensive footwork. Although self-defence was no longer an explicit focus, the refined techniques proved remarkably effective. The combination of agile footwork for maintaining distance, and powerful, precise kicks provided practitioners with practical advantages against larger, untrained opponents. 

Unfortunately, the pursuit of Olympic legitimacy ironically undermined Kukki Taekwondo’s combat effectiveness due to various changes. The systemic corruption of the Korean judges necessitated WT to come up with an unbiased scoring system. The solution of the tech-savvy Koreans was an electronic scoring system by means of an electronic body protector, known as the ‘Protector Scoring System’ (PSS), but this completely changed how the game is played. Previously, a point was scored based on its ability to deliver a “shocking force”. The PSS doesn’t require the same hard contact force to electronically score, while even the lightest touch to the head (with any part of the foot) results in points awarded. Punching to the face is not allowed. The original “full contact” kicks that were the hallmark of Kukki Taekwondo became watered down and now some of them can hardly be recognised as kicks at all. Moreover, the no-punching to the head rule has resulted in practitioners utterly neglecting guards and or blocks for the head. 

Additionally, the inclusion of “video replay” broke the continuous flow of matches because now coaches can interrupt the match whenever they think a possible foul occurred or to challenge points by judges or decisions by referees and everyone have to wait for the “video replay”. As a result, the fight is frequently paused, the video is checked, the dispute is decided upon, before the match is resumed. Other things like clinching and falling—which are not considered fouls as in the case of ITF Taekwon-Do—also slowed down the flow of the match. Whenever the athletes clinch or if one of them falls, the centre referee must intervene to get the match going again. 

The result is a marked shift from the original continuous, full-contact system that had organically developed powerful techniques and effective footwork, to a more tentative, point-based game emphasizing light contact and tactical interruptions. This transformation essentially reversed the practical combat benefits that had emerged from Kukki Taekwondo’s initial sport focus. 

And along the way, the idea of Taekwondo as a system for personal self-protection was practically ignored by the sport focussed major authorities. In 2023, the Kukkiwon published their latest Taekwondo Textbook, consisting of five volumes. Volume 4 focusses on sparring and includes a section on “self-defense sparring.” While this sounds sensible, it is when one sees the Korean translation that the wheels come off. In Korean, it reads “self-defense gyeorugi”. Understanding self-defence as a form of competition is the wrong conceptual framework. Gyeorugi is the wrong definition, the wrong metaphor for self-defence. Protecting oneself from eminent danger is not a game, not a competition. 

The problem—unfortunately—is one of fragmentation. The Kukkiwon claims custodianship over the philosophical and technical side of Kukki Taekwondo as an art. Conversely, WT oversees the sport. The sides, the “art” and the “sport”, has departed from each other to such a degree that the way to make them seem better integrated is through wordplay. Suggestion that gyeorugi (the domain of the sport) is somehow connected to hoshinsul (the domain of the art). 

Conclusion 

The evolution of sparring terminology in Taekwon-Do reflects deeper philosophical and practical shifts within the art. The transition from daeryeon to gyeorugi in WT circles and to matseogi in ITF demonstrates how language choices can both shape and reveal changing priorities. Both ITF and WT face challenges in maintaining the martial integrity of their sparring practices. ITF’s terminological confusion between competition sparring and self-defence training has diluted its original progressive training methodology. Meanwhile, Kukki/WT’s pursuit of Olympic legitimacy, while initially strengthening its combat effectiveness, has paradoxically led to rules and technologies that diminish practical fighting ability. The Kukkiwon’s attempt to bridge the art-sport divide through linguistic gymnastics only highlights the fundamental disconnect. 

The solution lies not in abandoning competition or tradition, but in clearly delineating and preserving both aspects. By acknowledging these distinct purposes through precise terminology and dedicated training methodologies, Taekwon-Do can honour its heritage as both a martial art and a sport. This clarity would allow practitioners to benefit from both competitive excellence and practical self-defence capability, fulfilling Taekwon-Do’s broader mission of developing the complete martial artist with the strength of character forged through hard training to become “champions of freedom and justice.”

Further reading:

• My first post about about daeryeon, gyurugi, and matsogi was published in 2017. That post had some historical errors which are corrected in this current version. 
• My discussion on ITF's pre-arranged sparring pedagogy (2014) is important to understand why free sparring is the goal in self-defence training, and cannot simply be replaced with competition sparring. 
• A version of this article was also presented at Standford University in 2019.