In June 2007, Vince McMahon, the mogul of the world's largest professional wrestling company (WWE), was booed out of the stadium where one of his events was taking place. He was portraying Mr. McMahon, an ultra-popular character who embodies a millionaire loudmouth and megalomaniac that incites the crowd with speeches, insults wrestlers, and even publicly humiliates his own children. Disappointed by the jeers, McMahon walked to the parking lot and got into his massive white limousine. Two seconds later, the vehicle exploded.
Of course, there was a camera to capture it all. The millions of viewers hooked on the program watched the explosion in amazement. One of them was Donald Trump who, as he himself has admitted, called the McMahon family shocked to inquire about what had happened. "This television event revealed how Trump himself, a great connoisseur of the theatrics of the business, could even be captivated by the narrative magic of wrestling," explains JP Zarka, director of ProWrestlingStories, a very popular wrestling news website in the United States.
Of course, McMahon had not died. The attack was a mere setup designed to feed the audience. It didn't matter if the company's stocks fell and advertisers were confused by the staged attack. Everything was worth it if the whole world was talking about it. When the time was right, McMahon resurrected.
All this self-promotion fascinated Trump, who has been a wrestling fan since childhood, confirms Zarka. The young Donald accompanied his father, with interests in the industry, to watch live matches. So for the current US president, Vince McMahon is not just a successful businessman: he is a genius in narrative management in the contemporary era.
"Trump is a showman who has long been a fan of the theatrics and grandeur of wrestling," says journalist John Hendrickson, who, in 2023, published an article in The Atlantic about how wrestling explains recent US history. "He is even a member of the WWE Hall of Fame. I believe the similarities between his rhetoric and that of many wrestlers are undeniable."
In these times of spectacle politics and institutionalized lies, in the era of the "netflixization" of the public, the tyranny of the narrative and the appeal to the basest instincts, the staging of electoral discourse and the wild polarization that divides everything between heroes and villains, the philosophy of Pressing Catch - a term with which American wrestling landed in Spain - has become the steroid-enhanced inspiration of the most grotesque leader in recent history. "Excess has become the norm, and the burlesque a new political style," anticipated French essayist Christian Salmon in his essay The Tyranny of Buffoons in 2020. Trump's latest flying kick to the global stage has proven him right.
The influence of wrestling on the new occupant of the White House began in 1988 when he hosted a WWE (then WWF) show at his Atlantic City casino. Since then, Trump has been a regular attendee and even a direct collaborator in their events. He liked them so much that he even participated in the 2007 "Battle of the Billionaires," a duel between McMahon and him that was fought through proxy wrestlers. The prize was fabulous: the winner shaved the loser's head in front of everyone.
Donald Trump, known for his devotion to his egg-colored tuft, was the victor. The spectacle in which the real estate tycoon shaved McMahon's head was seen live by 80,000 spectators and on television, it set a pay-per-view sales record: generating over 20 million euros in profits for the WWE.
In a way, this is where "Trumpism" began. Or at least, this is what Abraham Josephine Riesman argues in Ringmaster, his bestselling biography of Vince McMahon. The book's thesis, signed by a transgender journalist educated at Harvard and a mega-fan of wrestling, is that there is an extraordinary connection between this type of entertainment and popular culture... and politics. It also explains how McMahon's neokayfabe ideology has moved from the ring to the exercise of power at the highest level.
Since the origins of this spectacle, in traveling fairs and circuses, there was an irrevocable rule: the spectator, as in theater, had to convince themselves that what they were seeing was real. That's why mystery was essential. The requirement to maintain a character forced the wrestler not to fraternize in public with their colleagues, who were then their rivals in fights. No one could reveal the trick. It was so important that 30 years ago, ABC presenter John Stossel asked wrestler David Schultz, known as Doctor D, if what he did was a farce and received a good slap for that suggestion.
However, McMahon turned this perception (originally known as kayfabe) around by inventing the neologism neokayfabe in 1989 and convincing the administration that what he offered was just "entertainment." His goal was not moral but to avoid regulations applied to legitimate athletic competitions and to run his business without the interference of a sports federation.
Suddenly, it was clear that what was seen on stage was pure theater, and all spectators knew it, but it was spiced with doses of reality. McMahon created a world where the characters were allowed to say and do wild things, many intolerable in another context, ranging from insults to unabashed sexism and the promotion of violence. And the audience accepted to enter that reality ring.
This is the same communication strategy that Donald Trump has adopted since he first ran for president in 2016. "He is the Hulk Hogan of politics." Like the most popular figure in American wrestling, he is a character who sells patriotism, wields aggressive rhetoric, and enjoys an innate talent for exploiting the audience's basest desires. He is as loved as he is hated and even sports the same blonde dye, although Hogan has hidden his bald spot with a bandana for decades.
"The theatrical elements of professional wrestling, such as creating compelling narratives, exploiting dramatic tension, and emotionally engaging people, have become increasingly common in modern political discourse," confirms JP Zarka. "This influence is evident in the development of public figures, the use of recognizable slogans, and the creation of clear narrative arcs that resonate with the audience. The ability to handle a crowd and control their reactions are skills perfected in professional wrestling that have proven valuable for this politician."
We're not going to ask the reader to visualize Trump in tight spandex and a curvaceous torso, not even hidden under a mask like Rey Mysterio. But it is interesting to consider how Vince McMahon would have promoted the candidate he has always supported before a presidential debate or the next NATO meeting. It would be something like:
"Standing at 6'4" and weighing 235 pounds, endowed with a venomous tongue and an atomic arsenal, the man who will make America great again. Someone who in his career defeated each of his Republican rivals one by one. Who in 2016 put Robot Hillary Clinton to sleep with the dream lock, winning the Champion title. And who, in 2024, knocked out Kamala Lying Harris. His only defeat was in a close match against Sleepy Joe Biden, which many of his most rabid fans consider the Robbery of the Century... Ladies and gentlemen, Dooooooonald... Truuuuuump!!!"
And most likely, following McMahon's usual pattern, Trump would inexplicably hit him with a steel chair, calling him a "loser" and shouting "screw you, Biden" to a frenzied audience.
But why does this simplistic strategy work so well in people's political minds? According to Hendrickson, wrestling produces "an emotional overload that is almost impossible to capture" with a simple description and fascinates all kinds of audiences, especially the younger ones. You either love it or hate it. It's that simple. The secret of its success is that it doesn't matter that everyone knows it's all a farce because in the era of neokayfabe driven by McMahon, there is always a bit of truth. Wrestlers, even though they are super-trained athletes, expose themselves a lot: they can suffer serious injuries from jumps or crashing into a cage. Even on occasion, someone has died in an accident from a stunt or suffered irreversible injuries. These men and women live on average less than people their age, although it has not been scientifically proven whether it is due to steroid consumption or the traumas they endure. In addition to being muscular and possessing enviable coordination, stars like Hulk Hogan, John Cena, or The Undertaker have to be remarkable actors, have convincing oratory skills, and be adept at improvisation. Someone capable of interpreting narrative plots that last for months and are fueled by scriptwriters with threats to their rivals, surprise appearances in other fights, and even fictitious infidelities with other wrestlers' girlfriends.