The Risk of Opponent Control

One element of training that is particularly as widespread as it is dangerous is what we call “the willing opponent.” This is a training partner who simply goes along with the technique, and responds only in the way he expects the technique to go.

Here’s an example: a student grabs another student’s arm from behind. The grabbed student turns, wraps his arm around his partner’s elbow, and bends forward. The dutiful partner bends forward, his arm locked painfully, and he taps the student to request a release.

You can find this type of training in a variety of schools. Very likely, at the moment you read this, someone is training a technique like that somewhere in the world. The problem with this approach is that it represents some imaginary scenario that never happens. In reality, of course, an attacker will not casually grab your arm, nor will he stand there while you coil your arm around his, and he certainly will not comply by bending forward and giving up. Instead, he will be punching and kicking you like crazy.

Many schools and styles do know this, and promote powerful attacks on training partners in order to simulate the speed and fury of a real, brutal attack. If you respond casually, you’re the one tapping out.

But traditional martial arts schools are far from the only place where you might encounter the willing opponent. An alarmingly significant number of law enforcement officers train in a similar manner when practicing a category of techniques known either as “opponent control,” “pain compliance,” or “come-alongs.” In these techniques, the law enforcement officer grabs the offender, turns or twists the person’s wrist to the point of mild pain, and then escorts him out of the area. It’s intended to be a non-violent, authoritative way to move a person who is mildly resisting. If the person escalates the resistance, the pain increases or down he goes to be hand-cuffed.

These are useful techniques for officers, of course, but the training methods are often severely under the fallacy of the willing opponent. Officers naturally practice on each other, and take turns being the opponent. He steps up to his partner, who responds by applying the control hold on him and then escorting him a few feet. Then they break, and switch roles.

Regrettably, officers spend more time practing firearms training—despite the relative rarity of a police officer firing his weapon in the line of duty—but little time developing these techniques, even though the typical responding officer may respond to a domestic disturbance a few times a day—when these techniques could most likely be used.

There is a reason that hospital staff, who can often deal daily with a violent, dangerous patient, do not study or use these common come-along techniques: they do not work very well against a determined opponent. Instead, hospitals use a four-on-one takedown process that results in far fewer injuries to staff as well as the patient.

What follows are three common opponent control techniques, still taught to a large number of officers. The offender, in black, is not a willing opponent.


A standard arm bar. The officer (in yellow) rotates the risk and forces the elbow to hyper-extend. The officer can now push on the elbow and steer with the wrist to move the offender in the desired direction.		Except the offender pops his own elbow with his right hand, causing the elbow to flex without any pain or damage. The offender uses his own left arm as leverage to pry himself upright and right into striking range.


The officer bends the offender’s elbow while rotating the offender’s hand to the outside. As he does, he can apply pressure with the right forearm while bending the wrist more to increase or decrease pain. Note that the offender is lifted slightly off his toes by the pain, and this imbalance allows the officer to move him.		Except, again, the offender jumps up slightly and strikes the officer in the face or throat to distract him. The offender can now protect his wrist from breaking, and he has the officer’s hands trapped.


The officer grabs the offender’s fingers and bends them backward, forcing the offender’s palm upward. In response to the pain, the offender walks on his toes, allowing the officer to steer him in any direction.		The offender, however, jumps upward slightly to alleviate the pain, and then snaps his foot or knee into the officer’s groin. With his feet back on the ground, the offender is within striking or clinching range with the officer.

Chongdo instructors have had the good fortune to both instruct law enforcement officers as well as work with several non-student officers over the years. Initial response to these types of demonstrations takes one of three forms:

Shock, and the officer re-considers how he has been training and applying these techniques. The officer quickly wants to apply other holds and techniques to see where (or if) they fail. Usually, he wants to try them on us, and we’re happy to oblige.
Rationale, with the officer explaining that “We only use these on drunk suspects,” or “The average person isn’t going to be able to do that.” This may be true, but that’s a significantly risky gamble to take. Are all intoxicated suspects equally compliant? What signs does the average person give that he will not be a greater danger? Phrased like this, the officer admits that this isn’t an answer as much as a dodge.
Dismissal, with the officer shaking his head and deciding that we aren’t applying the techniques correctly, or that something is clearly flawed in our demonstration, or that... or something. Of course, the officer is always welcome to see for himself.

Of course, none of this is the officer’s fault: these techniques were introduced to law enforcement starting in the late 1950s and throughout the 1960s, and were borrowed from the military, as a way to relocate protestors. As non-violent protests gathered power across the country (and extended media coverage), the National Guard (in particular) found a variety of simplified Judo techniques to move non-violent protestors—most of whom were very good at not being moved. Rather than result to violent methods with batons and rifles, the military used these techniques to move people without causing significant pain or injury.

Naturally, law enforcement was facing many of the same types of protests, and made extensive use of these techniques. However, starting in the mid-1960s, some departments began to employ these techniques out of context, as a catch-all way of moving people around without causing the pain or injury of restraints. The primary point of failure for this assumption is that non-violent protestors by definition will remain passive; the offender has no such goal, and can easily switch to a violent form of escape. Regrettably, this element has been institutionalized out of the typical training program.

What should police do? The answer is very simple: during the next defensive tactics training session, or entirely on their own, officers should try to resist these techniques. Some can cause injury, so common sense is vital, but there’s little risk in a friendly training session should one officer attempt to twist and slide out of his partner’s hold. As the basic techniques begin to fail, both students will correctly learn how to compensate, adjust, and adapt the hold to be more secure. It takes very little effort, and can be a lot more fun.