The headlining fight in the most-watched mixed martial arts event in history ended in just 17 seconds. Ronda Rousey and Gina Carano—both legends in the MMA universe—had been retired from mixed martial arts for years. So when they faced off in Los Angeles last month, viewers were eager to watch these pioneering fighters. Rousey beat Carano almost immediately. She used her signature, fight-ending grappling move known as an armbar—a floor maneuver where the unfortunate victim has one arm bent in the worst direction, on the verge of snapping.
Those who have followed Rousey’s fights are familiar with her swift finishes. She’s an Olympic medalist trained in the Japanese martial art of judo, whose practitioners study how to exert maximum effect with minimum effort. The general objective is to get your opponent on the ground and disrupt their balance by strategically pushing and pulling appendages to administer a painful physics lesson. Judo doesn’t look like brawling. Rather, it involves a series of quick, firm pivots and maneuvers that result in opponents being contorted, flipped, and tossed. As with other martial arts—jiu-jitsu, boxing, Muay Thai—judo can be extraordinarily violent. But success begins with training the mind. Muscle and power may help in casual rumbles, but professional fighters practice restraint to reprogram their reflexes. They know that self-discipline, technique, and expertise are more effective than reactive aggression.
Those qualities are not always obvious to the casual observer. As I watched Rousey’s stunning victory, I found myself thinking of the enormous clawlike structure that has recently materialized on the White House grounds: an octagon in which President Trump will host an Ultimate Fighting Championship bout for his birthday on June 14. In some ways, this convergence of MAGA and UFC—the largest and best-known MMA company—is not surprising. Trump’s ties to the world of fighting go back to at least 1988. That was the year that, to promote his properties in Atlantic City, New Jersey, Trump hosted the theatrical WrestleMania IV, the flagship production for professional wrestling, a form of mock combat.
[Conor Friedersdorf: Why Trump wants to celebrate his birthday with a cage fight]
The close friendship between Trump and UFC’s CEO, Dana White, spans decades and dozens of business deals; they’ve made each other a lot of money along the way. Years ago, Trump hosted an MMA fight for the then-struggling company at his Trump Taj Mahal casino in Atlantic City. Meanwhile, UFC had hired a commentator for the fights who happened to be a blue belt in jiu-jitsu, named Joe Rogan. Eventually, White united his friends, which led to Trump’s appearance on Rogan’s enormously popular podcast during his 2024 campaign and to Rogan’s endorsement. Just a few months ago, as Trump began to promote the White House fight, he purchased a stake in TKO Group Holdings, the parent company to both UFC and WWE, which hosts WrestleMania. Trump’s affinity for these fights extends beyond business dealings. MMA bouts can be viscerally brutal; a few years ago, Colby Covington’s fight was called simply because too much blood was spilling out of his face. For a president who frequently threatens his opponents with violence, that brutality is surely part of the allure.
And now, the UFC has come to the South Lawn.
The American presidency has long-standing ties to the world of martial arts. Theodore Roosevelt boxed as a light heavyweight at Harvard and carried his fancy for the sport into his presidency—well, up to a point. One day, he was sparring in the White House (where he had a boxing ring installed) and was punched so hard that the retina of his left eye detached, eventually blinding him in that eye. Only a few people were aware of the incident at the time, but he decided to give up the sport—and to try Japanese jujitsu. Before Roosevelt, there was 6-foot-4 Abraham Lincoln, a gangly, spindly wrestler who is reputed to have lost only one fight over a dozen years. He once wrestled the notorious gang leader Jack Armstrong in Illinois, though the outcome of that fight is disputed. Lincoln was posthumously inducted into the National Wrestling Hall of Fame.
But if Trump shares with his predecessors a fascination with the fight ring, he also differs from them in crucial respects. Hyper-masculinism is integral to MAGA culture, and on a superficial level, the experience of a UFC fight can be as theatrical as a Trump rally—swagger, combativeness, and drama. These qualities may work well in meme-making or cosplay, but iIllusions of strength are not useful in mixed martial arts. In a fight, you can’t wriggle away from the consequences of your actions. The punches are not scripted. Actions matter more than words. And nobody is going to pardon you out of getting hit.
Martial arts are practiced; they are studied. The language around these art forms—and they are art formss—is rooted in humility, and in deep respect for one’s opponents, with the understanding that ego is an impediment to winning. It is customary to touch gloves at the beginning of a fight, as a recognition that even though you may soon attempt to relocate your opponent’s facial features, an underlying code governs the brawl. Serious fighters understand the rules of the bout; they respect their opponents; they fight to win—and then they accept the outcome. Trump, however, demonstrates no professional respect for his perceived adversaries. He’s also shown a repeated unwillingness to accept reality when he loses (see: January 6).
In preparation for fights, professionals surround themselves with a team of experts to ensure readiness. In addition to a head coach, they typically hire trainers specialized in various fighting styles, sparring, and strength and conditioning. Together they closely study other fighters and fights. They plot strikes and defenses to win rounds; they pace exertion. There’s a strict discipline to the training, required by the conditions of the sport: It literally hurts if you don’t take the work seriously.
Trump fancies himself a fighter, but in crucial moments, including during the current war in Iran, he has shown little discipline or consistency and no regard for what the experts tell him. He bolts into situations unprepared and flips them into fiascos (see also: the Kennedy Center and DOGE). He compiles teams of unqualified sycophants again and again, instead of seeking out those who know more than he does. His social-media tantrums result in real-world consequences, such as the alienation of allies during key geopolitical negotiations.
[Sally Jenkins: The MAGA-fication of sports continues]
When I began studying martial arts decades ago, one of the first lessons I learned was to never fight while angry; it’s the fastest way to get winded (which inevitably means getting hit, probably a lot) and lose. No one throws every punch as hard as they can, because fighting for rounds requires incredible endurance. These are learned behaviors, and learning requires humility. To fight well means practicing how to control one’s emotions, how to synchronize breaths with punches, how to set aside vanity, how to prevail through extreme discipline and restraint. Constructing a giant octagon in your yard, plastering your face on government buildings, dollar bills, gold coins, and U.S. passports—these are not the kind of disciplined decisions that someone makes in order to win.
Clocking how a person’s hips will betray their next move is not a requirement for enjoying the UFC any more than knowing how to spot a triple axel is a prerequisite for enjoying Olympic figure skating. Trump doesn’t need to know how to rotate his wrist properly when punching in order to put on a show. What has happened in the cultural fusion of MAGA and MMA, however, is not simply a group of politically aligned, passive spectators catching a fight.
There are rules in the octagon: Fighters cannot bite, strike the back of their opponent’s head or spine, grab the cage, or gouge eyeballs. As violent as these bouts get, fighters agree to honor the rules, even mid-pummeling. There is a reason UFC fighters exhibit restraint as they clobber: For instance, while in the armbar, Carano felt her arm “crackle,” forcing her to tap out before she’d have to feel it break. While Rousey was restraining Carano to isolate her arm, she was demonstrating most of all the restraint to not break it, exercising the control and self-awareness possessed by someone who understands what real power is.
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