There are no easy answers for the tragedies that have rocked professional boxing over the past week. The Argentinian junior welterweight Hugo Alfredo Santillan died on Thursday from injuries suffered during last Saturday’s fight against Uruguay’s Eduardo Javier Abreu in the Buenos Aires, becoming the second fatality in four days after Russia’s Maxim Dadashev succumbed to injuries suffered last Friday’s in Maryland.

The double horror is a chilling reminder of the danger at hand any time a fighter climbs through the ropes into the squared circle, the only venue in society, with the exception of war, where a person can be killed but not legally murdered. It has also prompted renewed calls from at least one British charity for the sport to be permanently banned.

While the head trauma inherent to other sports such as American football, rugby and ice hockey has come increasingly under the microscope in recent years, only in boxing are dangers such as concussions not by-products but the very objective.

The spectre of death has loomed over the prize ring throughout history: from its recorded origins as a popular spectator sport in ancient Greece and Rome (until it was abolished by Theodoric in AD 500), during its bare-knuckle resurgence in England during the 1600s and modernization with the Marquess of Queensberry Rules in 1884 through to the present day.

The mere threat of it frightens and titillates the spectators who are party to the contest, satisfying a latent bloodlust common with those who attend hockey games for the fights or watch Nascar for the spark-flying wrecks.

Death in the ring is statistically rare but there is no question boxing is the most dangerous pastime despite a perception as the tamer alternative to the often grisly spectacle of mixed martial arts and the head-to-toe violence it purveys to a generally younger demographic.

MMA fighters wear smaller four-ounce gloves that are less conducive to defense and more prone to causing cuts, though what many do not realize is the extra padding on boxing gloves exists not to protect the face but the fist, allowing fighters to throw punches with full force at their opponent’s heads without fear of breaking the bones in their hands.

The prolonged punishment and longer fights invite a higher rate of head trauma, unconsciousness, facial injuries and broken bones. There have been no fatalities in the history of the Ultimate Fighting Championship, despite its widespread reputation for brutality, since MMA’s leading promotion was launched in 1993. Thirty boxers have died in the same span.

Hundreds more boxers died in the years before – Ring magazine reported 22 deaths in 1953 – with many coming in high-profile world championship bouts. Jimmy Doyle died of brain injuries after being knocked out by Sugar Ray Robinson in a welterweight title fight. The same with Benny Paret after a loss to Emile Griffith a decade and a half later in a fight for the 147lb title. Davey Moore died after collapsing in his dressing room following a loss to Sugar Ramos for the featherweight championship.

Only after the death of the South Korean lightweight Duk-koo Kim following a 1982 fight with Ray Mancini was widespread reform sparked, including the reduction of the number of rounds in championship fights from 15 to 12.

Not long after, the American Medical Association passed a resolution for the sport to be banned that, predictably, fell on deaf ears. You cannot eradicate a compulsion that is innate in us, whether middle-class moralizers want to admit it or not. To get rid of it would simply drive it underground to a place with no government oversight requiring qualified referees, ringside physicians and emergency medical staff on call.

Boxing is here to stay. Putting aside the exhibitions of extreme physical and psychological intensity, the sport has long been a sport of the underclass, credited with changing the lives of the disenfranchised and impoverished. There are no barriers to entry. It is, as George Foreman says, the sport to which all other sports aspire.

Rather than fruitless calls for abolition, better to honor Santillan and Dadashev by calling for reform from within. Will the promoters who profited off their blood and sweat be there to offer financial support for their families after the outrage fades? Will they pay for their medical and funeral expenses since insurance companies do not underwrite life insurance policies for fighters because of the inherent danger of their trade? Will there be counseling for those left behind: the “victorious” fighters, the corner men, the family members whose lives will never be the same?

Perhaps the sport’s power brokers can honor them by coming together to organize a long-overdue health and pension plan for retired fighters.

The life-threatening realities of this strange, primitive trade cannot be managed or contained any more than the tragedies of yesterday can be undone, but maybe those who derive their fortunes from the courage of the crazy-brave can do their part to make a better tomorrow.