Ivan Arreguín-Toft
No one had given Muhammad Ali a chance against George Foreman in the World
heavyweight Championship fight
of October 30, 1974. Foreman, none of whose opponents had lasted more than three rounds in the ring, was the
strongest, hardest hitting
boxer of his generation. Ali, though not as powerful as
Foreman, had a
slightly faster punch and was lighter on his feet. In the weeks leading up to the fight, however, Foreman
had
practiced against nimble sparring partners. He was ready. But when the bell
rang
just after 4:00 a.m. in Kinshasa, something
completely unexpected happened. In round two, instead of moving into
the ring to meet Foreman, Ali appeared to cower against the ropes. Foreman, now
confident of victory, pounded
him again and again, while Ali whispered
hoarse taunts: “George, you’re not hittin’,”
“George, you
disappoint me.”
Foreman lost his temper, and his punches became a furious blur.
To
spectators, unaware
that
the
elastic ring ropes
were absorbing much
of the force of
Foreman’s blows, it looked as if Ali would surely fall. By the
fifth round, however,
Foreman was
worn
out. And in round eight, as stunned commentators and a delirious crowd looked on, Muhammad Ali knocked George Foreman to
the canvas, and the fight was over.
This fight illustrates an
important yet relatively unexplored feature of interstate conflict: how a weak
actor’s strategy can make a strong actor’s power irrelevant. If power implies
victory in war, then weak actors should almost never win against stronger
opponents, especially when the gap in relative power is very large. Yet history
suggests otherwise: Weak actors sometimes do win. The question is how.
Read more: How the Weak Win Wars? A Theory of Asymmetric Conflict
