Kayfabe: An Epistemology of Professional Wrestling

Submitted by: Pete Vere
Submitted to: Dr Philippe Yates
Submitted for: PHS 611

Admittedly, the inspiration for this “new journalist” styled blog was eleventh hour. First, the subjects of epistemology and professional wrestling seem worlds apart. Second, throughout this course in logic and epistemology at Holy Apostles College & Seminary I had collected much research on atheism and the modern scientific method. As a lay Byzantine Catholic chaplain to a post-secondary training institution focused on engineering and technology, I often find myself discussing religion and science with atheists, agnostics and anti-theists.

The latter are the most demanding, insisting that it is irrational to claim knowledge of God’s existence without evidence, and that any evidence must be proven according to the modern scientific method. Most would agree with the following statement of noted cosmologist, particle physicist and anti-theist Dr Lawrence Krauss: “philosophy and theology are ultimately incapable of addressing by themselves the truly fundamental questions that perplex us about our existence. Until we open our eyes and let nature call the shots, we are bound to wallow in myopia.”[1] Thus a power-point lecture on the epistemology of atheism and scientific method seemed like a safe and practical final project.

Nevertheless, being a serious lifelong fan of professional wrestling—including two periods when I was younger moonlighting as a professional wrestling reporter, and currently refereeing as an unpaid after-hours hobby and physical activity—I was immediately struck by Kenneth T Gallagher’s following passage in the concluding chapters of the course textbook: “I see someone rolling his eyes, clenching his fists and screaming, and I say he is in pain. But how do I know that this is not the way in which he expresses delight? I don’t observe his felt pain, I only infer it.”[2]

To put my surprise with Gallagher’s insight into context, having needed a break from home and from philosophical study earlier in the month, I had spent a Saturday afternoon training to infer pain to an audience while protecting my partner and me from actually feeling any.

In fact, our trainer captured it on video for subsequent critique.[3] Behind the curtains this is referred to as “selling a move.” To increase drama for the audience while preventing serious injury to the other person, performers “sell” opposing performer’s moves to the audience by inferring believability.

To my coach and fellow students present, there was much lacking in my performance. However, a fellow philosophy student without any connection to professional wrestling believed my inference—despite knowing that professional wrestling is a cooperative performance rather than a competitive one. “How could you let him hurt you like that?” he said. Internally, not only was I feeling no pain, but I was delighted that my philosopher friend “bought” my inference. Yet selling is just one aspect of kayfabe, which is the overall inner language and culture of professional wrestling.

DEFINING EPISTIMOLOGY

To understand what kayfabe teaches us about epistemology, one must first define both epistemology and kayfabe as terms. In his introduction to philosophy, Paul Kleinman provides the following general definition of epistemology: “Epistemology comes from the Greek episteme, meaning ‘knowledge,’ and logos, meaning ‘study of.’ Therefore, when talking about epistemology, we are discussing the study of knowledge. Philosophers that study epistemology look at two main categories: the nature of knowledge and the extent of knowledge.”[4] As applied to kayfabe, both the nature and the extent of knowledge come into play.

DEFINING KAYFABE

Given the secretive nature of professional wrestling until recently, kayfabe is more difficult to define formally. From its roots in the travelling carnivals, kayfabe evolved as a language and sub-culture to allow performers to communicate data with each other while communicating a different (and often opposing) message to an audience gathered from the outside world.  Up until approximately 20 years ago, any performer or promoter who admitted kayfabe’s existence to outsiders would be ostracized from any future involvement with the professional wrestling community. “Kayfabe, the private language used by those in the business, ruled the industry,” states Eric Bischoff, formerly the world’s top professional wrestling promoter, in his autobiography Controversy Creates Cash.[5] Recalling his experience first breaking into professional wrestling as a sales agent under legendary promoter Verne Gagne, Bischoff states: “Verne was very strict about kayfabe, or the secrets of the business, as the term is used today. If I happened to walk out of my office near the studio, and Verne was talking to a wrestler, he’d whisper in their ear so I couldn’t hear what they were saying.”[6]

Former seven-time world heavyweight champion Bret “the Hitman” Hart—considered Canada’s greatest in the history of professional wrestling, and my own inspiration for becoming part of the business—defines kayfabe in his autobiography as “wrestling jargon for babyfaces [protagonists] and heels [antagonists] not being seen together in public and doing whatever it takes to perpetuate the idea that wrestling is real. It was thought that if the fans knew the matches were a work, it would destroy the business, along with the livelihood of everyone in it.”[7] 

Legendary Canadian referee Jimmy Korderas never actually uses the word kayfabe in his autobiography The Three Count: My Life in Stripes as a WWE Referee. Nevertheless, his following advice to aspiring professional wrestling referees is an excellent description of how kayfabe functions: “[The referee’s] main role is to enhance the match and the story the wrestlers are trying to tell in the ring. He should not be invisible but at the same time, he should not be a distraction. I believe that the referee should […] treat each match as if it was a true contest. Be a referee! Don’t act like one because then you will not appear genuine. Fans can tell the difference.”[8] In short, the main difference between kayfabe and acting is that one was that up until recently one was expected to maintain the act in the presence of outsiders, even in private between shows. Thus kayfabe provides an unique context to study epistemology because of the expectation performers remain “in character” between performances.

EPISTIMOLOGY APPLIED TO KAYFABE

Having proffered a basic definition of epistemology, as well as established an understanding of kayfabe, the question then becomes the following: What does kayfabe reveal about epistemology? That is, what does kayfabe reveal about knowledge itself and how it is transmitted? The primary answer to this question is as follows: Kayfabe reveals the boundary between self and other when it comes to one’s senses and how the mind processes the data they collect. “Mind […] is at the boundary of the self and the other; it is a revelation of the other as well of the self,” Gallagher states in the course textbook.[9]

In professional wrestling, the boundary between self and other is both evident and two-fold. The boundary is two-fold in that “others” fall into two categories. The first are other performers assisting in the match. The second is the audience watching the match. The boundary with each and the self is evident: neither audience nor other performers know what the self as a performer is thinking or sensing at a given moment. Yet what makes kayfabe unique is that conflicting messages are inferred simultaneously between oneself and both aforementioned “others”.

An example of this is choking. Within professional wrestling, choking is perceived by the audience as a desperation move. If a performer grabs the “opposing” performer’s neck from behind, leading to a pained grimace on the opponent’s face, then the audience infers two things: First, the choker is so desperate to win that he has resorted to cheating. (As referee, I am to warn the choker to cease and then disqualify the choker if he fails to release the choke before I count to five.) Second, the audience infers from their any personal past experiences with choking that the victim is in pain from his oxygen supply being constricted. This is an apt example of boundary between self and other because reality is the exact opposite the audience infers from performers. In reality, the supposed victim feels little, if anything, because he controls the choke by placing his hands on the choker’s wrist. This is done for the safety of both performers, however, when done correctly, the audience judges (incorrectly) that the victim is desperate to remove the choker’s hands in order to restore the flow of oxygen. In reality, the choke is applied lightly to provide both performers with an opportunity to catch their breath.

This is why chokes are often known in kayfabe as “rest spots”. That is, one performer is communicating to the other that he needs a rest to catch his breath (as opposed to having his oxygen supply cut off by force), and/or the two performers need to communicate the next sequence of moves. This too is an example of the mind and senses being at the boundary of self and others. Other performer cannot be expected infer the first performer’s need to catch his breath nor anticipate the next sequence of moves. There is also the risk of other performers becoming part of the audience if the first performer is a particularly convincing actor. Thus it is up to the first performer to create the necessary space for communication between performers while misleading the audience as to one’s internal thoughts or the data collected by one’s senses. This is particularly important when one considers that portions of each match are usually improvised during the performance itself, and thus understanding the boundary between self and other is essential to averting serious injury while “selling” the audience on the performance.

 Of epistemological interest here is Stewart Goetz and Charles Taliaferro’s distinction between extrinsic and intrinsic knowledge, which kayfabe manipulate and exploits. In their work Naturalism, Goetz and Taliaferro, use the example of Mary, a young woman raised from birth in a secluded and pain-free environment, to explain this distinction. “While locked in the room Mary learned all the physical facts that can be known about pain, including that pain is produced by such and such physical objects that cause so-and-so neural happenings that lead people to utter expletives, etc.,” the authors state.^[10] Thus Mary’s knowledge of pain is purely external until she is released from her pain-free environment one evening to attend a bowling alley with a friend. There she accidentally drops a bowling ball on her foot “Did Mary learn something new about pain? The obvious answer is yes. She learned for the first time what the intrinsic nature of pain is. While in the room she learned only about extrinsic, relational features of pain,” Goetz and Taliaferro state.^[11]

Between performers and audience, kayfabe exploits this distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic knowledge. The performers are taught to display the external symptoms of pain and injury. Yet in the moment of performance they generally do not experience such knowledge intrinsically. In fact the whole purpose of kayfabe is to avoid the intrinsic knowledge of pain or injury. Nevertheless, the audience then infers from the performer’s external display that he is suffering internal pain or injury, and thus his knowledge of pain is presently intrinsic.

In conclusion, to most fans of professional wrestling kayfabe is merely popular low-brow entertainment. Yet to a student of philosophy who also happens to moonlight as a professional wrestling referee, kayfabe offers a unique perspective into the epistemology as it concerns the boundary between self and others in the communication of knowledge, as well as the dictinction between intrinsic and extrinsic knowledge.  

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[1] Lawrence Krauss, A Universe from Nothing: Why There Is Something Rather than Nothing (Atria Books, Kindle Edition), p. 178.

[2] Kenneth T Gallagher, Philosophy of Knowledge (New York: Sheed & Ward, 1964), republished by Forgotten Books (2012), p. 257.

[3] Pete Vere & Randy Bynoe, training video (Mississauga, Ontario: Battle Arts Academy, 27 August 2017). <https://youtu.be/GD6G9wLlmEI>

[4] Paul Kleinman, Philosophy 101: From Plato and Socrates to Ethics and Metaphysics, an Essential Primer on the History of Thought (Adams Media: Kindle Edition) Kindle Locations 2280-2282.

[5] Eric Bischoff & Jeremy Roberts, Controversy Creates Cash (World Wrestling Entertainment, Kindle Edition) pp. 12-13.

[6] Bischoff, p. 38.

[7] Bret Hart, Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling (Random House of Canada, Kindle Edition) p. 68.

[8] Jimmy Korderas, The Three Count: My Life in Stripes as a WWE Referee (ECW Press, Kindle Edition) Kindle locations 2345-2349.

[9] Gallagher, p. 259.

^[10] Stewart Goetz & Charles Taliaferro, Naturalism, edited by C. Cunningham & P. Candler (Grand Rapids, MI; William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2008) p. 45.

^[11] Goetz & Taliaferro, p. 45.