Open Letter to the International Fencing Community

I write this not in response to any recent or specific incident, simply as an attempt to express certain feelings that have been festering within me for quite some time now.

As a boy, a teen and a young man, fencing has given me so much: direction, purpose, friends and role models.

And whilst over the years my relationship with fencing has been tested with respect to each of these attributes, my love for the sport endures. Fencing still provides a direction for my energies, it still gives me purpose, and it continues to introduce me to new friends. However, on the issue of role models I am increasingly losing faith.

There are so many fencers that have provided great inspiration to me at various points of my life that it would be impossible to list them all. To this day, whenever I see a fencer step out onto the coloured pistes on the second day of a world cup, I cannot help but marvel at the dedication required to reach such levels of skill.

But increasingly I am finding it harder to respect these athletes. On the piste they show great courage and determination, often even roaring like the lions they so wish to be seen as. And yet they cower away like pussycats when faced with the idea of confronting the sports’ existential problems. These are problems so blatant that nobody seriously invested in the sport can claim ignorance of them.

On many occasions I have received correspondence from top fencers, coaches, and officials expressing their frustrations with the state of the game, yet whenever I have raised the possibility of taking action, I am faced with the same pitiful response which effectively amounts to:

“I’m too scared.”

Too scared of the men in suits. Men that in private company you may scorn or even mock, but to whom you would never have the guts to express your true beliefs. Instead, you smile and laugh along with their antics in the hope that if you can earn their favour, you may be rewarded. You prostitute your dignity all for the glory of standing on a podium in an empty stadium. At least, that is to charitably assume that you are not actively party to the rot which consumes this sport.

Unfortunately some of you cannot even claim such pitiful innocence.

Even if you can, even if you are indeed “one of the clean ones”, you willingly partake in this circus. You may see yourself as the straight man in this comedy, but when you willingly share a stage with clowns, you cannot expect to be taken seriously.

It is with great sadness that I feel compelled to address directly the objects of my frustrations. Although maybe it is vain of me to assume that any of those involved might read this. After all, who even am I? What have I ever done to earn the right to pass such judgements? I have little skin in the game and few interests to protect, at least none yet of such enormous value. Regardless of who I am, somehow I have a platform, and I feel compelled to use it.

And so it is that I am reluctantly “calling out” my heroes. But know that you still have my sympathies; ultimately I know that you care dearly for this sport, and whilst self-interest may be one of the barriers to action, I recognise that there exist other forces that make such action feel impossible.

Fencing as a whole is trapped in limbo. Whilst there is no doubt that the state of the sport could and should be better, the situation could equally be made a lot worse. At least currently within fencing there exist pathways to modest wealth and social clout, a privilege not afforded to many of the more niche sports. And so it is that we fight among ourselves over the limited resources available, constantly aware that even such meagre scraps of funding, sponsorships and occasionally prize money may one day no longer be available. Fencing is a fragile ecosystem, and too much disturbance could risk collapsing it entirely.

Rather than dwell on the catastrophic, I would rather present a more positive alternative vision. Fencing can be a thrilling and beautiful sport. We have a long and fascinating history to draw upon, and fundamentally swordplay has and will always be a subject of interest throughout the world. The internet has made engagement with fans incredibly easy and relatively cheap, something that the grey-haired suits in the FIE seem not to recognise. The idea that fencing can never be remotely popular is predicated on the assumption that radical changes are not possible.

I am certain that any high-level fencer will envy the treatment of a football, basketball, or tennis star, and whilst maybe such levels of popularity may be difficult to reach, I remain firmly convinced that it is possible for the sport to make considerable leaps in that direction. Already there are hints at the sport’s potential popularity. Events held in fencing strongholds like France and Hungary already fill arenas with fans, and the atmosphere created at the 2024 Olympics was undeniably special. Why then must fencers be sent to dismal sports halls in obscure locations when there exists the real possibility of putting on a spectacle in front of passionate fencing fans? Is this really too much to ask for?

However, any such improvements will not happen without great labours. Nobody is going to fix your sport for you; indeed you must take responsibility for it yourself. You may wonder how, as an individual, you can have any hope in enacting change of any significance, and one could not be blamed when such thoughts lead to despair.

But one need not take on this gargantuan task alone. I am confident that there is sufficient eagerness and talent within the international fencing community to make the necessary changes required to fix this sport; it is just a question of collaboration, organisation and self-sacrifice. 

There is no fencing without the fencers. The day that the top-ranked fencers collectively stand up for their own dignity, great change will come.

But until then my respect for any fencer, coach or official in this sport will be limited.

One cannot be a true hero without some degree of self-sacrifice.

To put it crudely, someone needs to grow some balls.

Signed,

Marius Dobel-Ober

AKA “Slicer Sabre”