Dana White: The Ultimate Fight King and Trump's Right-Hand Man
When I first encountered Dana White, he was a former boxing aerobics instructor, not the powerhouse he is today. In 2010, I didn’t expect him to choke me out and ask if I dreamed while I lay unconscious. Yet, that’s the reality of the man who now stands as the second most powerful figure in America.
Fast forward to today, and the absurdity escalates. A sitting president plans to host a fight night on the White House lawn, orchestrated by White, the CEO of the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC). This isn’t just a wild idea; it’s happening as part of the 250th anniversary celebrations of the United States.
White’s journey began in the early 2000s when he managed a mixed martial arts sideshow for friends who dabbled in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. They bought it cheap, and White’s experience with boxers made him the perfect fit. Now, he’s orchestrating fights in the backyard of the White House.
On this historic night, fighters will emerge from the Oval Office to battle in a chain-link octagon. Celebrities like Adam Sandler, The Rock, and Mario Lopez will witness this spectacle. It’s a bizarre juxtaposition of American history and the satirical essence of “Idiocracy.”
Despite being a major supporter of President Trump, White shows little interest in politics beyond his personal preferences. He champions hunting and guns while opposing vaccination mandates and Covid restrictions. His admiration for Trump stems from their shared love for combat sports, with Trump previously defending the UFC against critics who labeled it “human cockfighting.”
White’s loyalty to Trump is evident. He spoke at the 2016 Republican convention and secured UFC announcer Joe Rogan’s endorsement for 2024. In a recent interview, he attempted to defend Trump against racism allegations, citing that Trump allowed his children to associate with Michael Jackson as his main argument.
Many within the UFC, including Ari Emanuel, CEO of TKO Group Holdings, share my disdain for White’s political alignment. Yet, I can’t help but appreciate his candidness during interviews. He’s engaging and enthusiastic, even inviting me to stand between fighters during weigh-ins and watch him gamble $75,000 hands at blackjack.
White’s support for Trump doesn’t equate to criminality like Marco Rubio’s actions. He’s entrenched in the fight business, not politics. If Jean Claude Van Damme endorsed Putin, I wouldn’t expect him to grasp complex political theories.
Unlike tech moguls like Jeff Bezos or Mark Zuckerberg who alter their platforms to appease Trump, White remains focused on fights—an arena where political debates are absent.
There are larger players in the “Trump flattery” game. Former MMA fighter Markwayne Mullin dropped his fight against UFC monopoly claims when he became secretary of homeland security. Meanwhile, UFC secured a $7.7 billion deal with Paramount for fight broadcasts, including the White House event, under Oracle CEO Larry Ellison’s oligarchic influence. Yet, White allows commentator Joe Rogan to criticize Trump’s military decisions without interference.
Ultimately, White’s behavior aligns with his persona. A man who thrives on choking others is naturally drawn to Trump’s combative style. What troubles me is a culture that normalizes fights on the White House lawn—a culture that embraces crude individualism and masculine honor above all else. It’s a world where dreaming feels impossible.
