Fans were astounded last October when the prime-time Ultimate Fighting Championship bout between Irishman Conor McGregor and Dagestani grappler Khabib Nurmagomedov ended with an all-out brawl.
Immediately following his victory, Nurmagomedov jumped out of the octagon and began throwing punches at McGregor’s team, while the victor’s team leaped into the octagon to scrap with the vanquished McGregor himself. There was talk of withdrawing prize money from Nurmagomedov, who told the UFC he didn’t want the money and reiterated the numerous ways in which McGregor had insulted his honor. “This for me is very important,” Nurmagomedov said, explaining that theirs should be a sport of “respect.”
It was the culmination of months of acrimony. In the lead-up to the fight, McGregor physically attacked Nurmagomedov’s team bus, repeatedly threatened his life, and mocked his Muslim faith, ethnicity, and family, including in a vicious press conference.
The feud is far from over. Last month, in a now-deleted tweet, McGregor called Nurmagomedov’s wife a “towel;” Nurmagomedov responded by declaring McGregor a “rapist” and “hypocrite.” Shortly after, McGregor was allegedly involved in a bar fight in Dublin when a patron mocked him for having been “battered” by Nurmagomedov.
UFC President Dana White said a second bout between Nurmagomedov and McGregor is likely sometime this year, but the conflict is going to a darker place than mere showmanship. It’s rooted in a clash between Caucasus honor culture and modern Western trash-talk culture.
Many Westerners may not understand how seriously a man takes his honor in the Caucasus. In places such as Chechnya, Dagestan, Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan, a man’s honor is rooted in how he defends his female relatives, his faith, and his nation.
About seven years ago, I taught English in Sakobiano, a small village in Georgia where I lived for about a year. Our tiny, agrarian community was the second-to-last Christian settlement in the northeast Pankisi region of the fiercely orthodox nation. It was bordered by Muslim towns populated by ethnic Kists and Chechen refugees who had fled to Georgia in the 1990s. The region is steeped in Caucasus honor culture, similar to that of Nurmagomedov’s native Dagestan.
Although the area has been termed “Mujahedeen Valley” by some Western journalists, because village youths left to fight in Syria or join the Islamic State, most Muslims and Christians there are not extremist or violent. On the contrary, the prevailing culture is one peacefully centered on family and faith that emphasizes deep veneration for tradition and exceptional hospitality to guests.
Georgia’s patroni system spells out a code of male honor and steadfast stewardship of a woman’s virtue. Especially in the villages, any unmarried man interested in an unmarried woman will be accompanied to all early encounters by a relative, friend, or guardian of hers, often male. Unfounded offenses or accusations about a female family member or friend require a swift, physical response. Conflict over religion and national pride result in similar confrontations. Such matters may be the subject of jokes to Westerners, but in the Caucasus they are deadly serious.
I was once returning from a trip to the mountains. Our driver, a young Georgian friend, was foolishly teasing the two young women with us by switching the truck’s lights on and off as we navigated a high, winding road. They shrieked at him to stop, but he just laughed. When we got home to the village, my friend jumped out from the truck and slammed the driver against the door. He began hitting the driver while shouting at him about his behavior. This is how a man reacts in defense of his female friend; imagine what he will do if there is an offense against his wife or daughter.
Westerners who are bemused or surprised by Nurmagomedov’s angry, intensely personal reaction to McGregor’s provocations probably haven’t spent much time in an honor culture like Nurmagomedov’s. They may write off the controversy as a publicity stunt. That would be a mistake.
Retributive violence over insults should be out of bounds, but the notion of honor itself shouldn’t. The societal norms that would protect McGregor outside the ring, of course, are mere spectators once the bell rings.
Paul Brian is a freelance journalist focused on world affairs, religion, and culture. His work has appeared in First Things, Reuters, the American Conservative, and others.
