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Other American politicians want to woo The New York Times, Donald Trump chooses X. They wish to claim CBS News, he plumps for Joe Rogan. They have pop stars and Hollywood legends on the campaign trail, he’s endorsed by Elon Musk and Dana White.
There will be plenty of people around the world who witnessed Trump’s Florida victory speech and his name-checking, and recognised Musk. The world’s richest man, owner of X, the person behind Tesla and the spectacular docking of that space rocket, Musk needs little introduction. But with White, the bald-headed guy Trump handed the microphone to, they would have been scratching their heads.
That’s probably because they’re not male and under 30. They will know who White is, all right.
They will revere him, as they do Rogan, and his enormously popular shock-jock podcast, and Musk.
For the uninitiated, White, 55, is the boss of UFC or Ultimate Fighting Championship. Based in Las Vegas, UFC is the biggest, most successful promoter of MMA or mixed martial arts, having held more than 700 events, many of them sell-outs accompanied by lucrative TV rights. Its contests are held over eight weight divisions for men and three for women. As well as UFC, White owns Power Slap, another fighting operator. He’s comfortably a billionaire.
Along with the other leading members of the Trump inner circle, people may question what White is doing in big-time politics but that misses the point. He’s there because he admires Trump, theirs is a mutual friendship, he’s hugely successful and he’s different. It’s that last which marks him out: White enables Trump to reach a sector of society that other politicians can’t, connecting with the non-college educated white male.
It’s not exclusive, of course – prep students follow UFC as well but White and Trump understand a political maxim, which is that everyone, regardless of their background, education, profession has only one vote. This time, with White’s help, Trump was able to tap into this vast reservoir of men who follow UFC – and yes, Rogan – who admire the genius of Musk, and get them out, supporting him in huge numbers.
The liberal establishment may have looked on in horror as White hogged the limelight. There he was, making a 'victory' sign with his fingers and proclaiming: “This is what happens when the machine comes after you, what you’ve seen over the last several years, this is what it looks like.” White went on to pay tribute to others, their identities again lost on the uninitiated, but they’re YouTubers and podcast stars. “I want to thank some people real quick. I want to thank the Nelk Boys, Adin Ross, Theo Von, Bussin’ With The Boys, and last but not least, the mighty and powerful Joe Rogan.”
No mention of the great newspapers or networks there. Yet this is the person MAGA believers are now clamouring to be made Press Secretary in the Trump 2.0 administration.
Trump invited him to speak; to many, he was impolite and combative. White won’t care a jot. That is not his style. He’s used to being beyond the pale, to being, like Trump, an outsider.
White is an Irish American, raised with his sister, Kelly, by their mother, a nurse, in Massachusetts, then Las Vegas. He went to the local Bishop Gorman High School, but as he puts it, “got kicked out of Gorman twice”.
His upbringing was not entirely surrounded by Las Vegas glitz and brashness. He spent his summers in genteel Maine with his grandparents and went to school there for his final year.
He started college twice but left each time. He made ends meet by doing casual work, as an asphalter, a bouncer and as a bellboy at the Boston Harbour Hotel. He was also boxing. The young White opened his own gym and intended to go into the ring professionally himself.
Seeing the damage being hit repeatedly could do to the brain, however, he thought otherwise, preferring to concentrate on becoming a coach.
Just as Trump had to deal in his early, real estate developer years in New York with the mob and their associates, so White was not immune. In his case, it was the notorious gangster, Whitey Bulger. The feared Las Vegas organised crime lord demanded White, who was living in Boston, return to Nevada and pay $2,500. It was a lot of money in the early 1990s – the equivalent of $25,000 today. “They said, ‘You owe us the money tomorrow by one o’clock.’ I literally hung up the phone, picked up the phone and called Delta and bought a ticket to Vegas.”
Back in Las Vegas, White continued to operate as a boxing trainer, but moved into jiu-jitsu and then became manager for martial arts fighters.
That led him to UFC. When the promotion company came up for sale, he turned to his childhood friend, Lorenzo Fertitta, a casino chief. Together with Lorenzo’s brother, Frank, they bought UFC and White was made president.
UFC was more or less on its knees and the ferocious style of fighting had been turned away from holding events at numerous conservative venues. Trump, via his Trump Taj Mahal casino and hotel in Atlantic City, took a typically different view and agreed to UFC’s request. This was the beginning of their friendship.
As UFC grew and entered the mainstream (doing a deal with ESPN in 2019 and merging with professional wrestling company WWE to form a new concern, TKO Group, in 2023) White branched out. He returned to boxing, promoting the Floyd Mayweather Jr v Conor McGregor bout and added organising pro surfing and skateboarding to his portfolio.
When the pandemic struck he created Fight Island to allow the UFC’s international athletes to compete from Abu Dhabi. The Fight Island series deal has been extended and he has describe his UAE relationship as "brilliant". Fight Island events have been scheduled as marquee pay-per-view events.
He lives in Las Vegas on a plot created from the demolition of three mansions, with his wife Ann, whom he met while still at school, their two sons and a daughter. He suffers from an inner ear disorder which he likens to “vertigo but on steroids”.
White, unsurprisingly, loves rock guitar and is a keen fan of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Rage Against the Machine. He’s also a martial arts nut, collecting Japanese katana swords. He’s a gambler, too, playing high-stakes blackjack for $75,000 a hand. But he’s not so reckless. He’s calculating, usually quitting when he’s $150,000 ahead – a tactic that makes him unpopular with the Las Vegas casinos.
His first appearance at Trump’s side was at the Republican National Convention in Cleveland, Ohio in 2016, when he endorsed him as the presidential nominee. “No arenas wanted us. This guy reached out and he’s always been a friend to me”.
He subsequently became a donor and behind-the-scenes campaign lieutenant. Next stop, possibly, for this definably non, even anti-establishment figure: the White House itself and the West Wing.
