A sure sign we live in a sci-fi dystopia is the way social media both rewards and encourages mental illness. With the necessary caveat that I am not a psychologist and cannot diagnose people, I must note that common sense alone revealed that not everything was okay with Brian Johnson, a MAGA-aligned “manfluencer.” He built an enormous online fanbase of nearly 3 million Instagram followers by developing a muscle-man physique so exaggerated it cannot help but call into question both his mental and physical health.
On June 23, Johnson shared a bizarre Instagram reel that I had the displeasure of watching, well, for the sake of journalism. Shirtless, and crowned with what appears to be a wolf’s head taxidermy hat, he issues some sort of challenge while holding what looks like a gold-plated gun — are they toys? — in each hand. “Man to man, I’m picking a fight with you,” he says. “You should dismantle me.” Then, after he talks himself out, he gyrates to the music, waving his veiny arms in the air.
For those who might unfortunately view that video and wonder what the hell he’s talking about, let me elucidate: Johnson is trying to get podcaster Joe Rogan to fight him. The origin of this beef is, unsurprisingly, very dumb. Johnson built his audience with implausible claims that he built his body through workouts and an “ancestral” diet, which he erroneously says is mostly meat, especially organ meat. Rogan, despite being open to every other idiotic idea under the sun, has dismissed Johnson’s claims as “preposterous” and insisted Johnson is using steroids or human growth hormone. Johnson confessed to as much in 2022, and according to a recent Netflix documentary about him, it seriously damaged what had been a $100 million-a-year supplement business.
It’s unclear what precipitated the barrage of social media threats from Johnson to Rogan in recent days, though I’m inclined to think Johnson’s efforts to promote the Netflix show are a likely factor. What is clear, however, is that Johnson seems unhinged and, because he drove to Austin, Texas with apparent designs to confront Rogan in person, genuinely dangerous. Austin police certainly seem to think so, which is why they arrested Johnson on Tuesday and charged him with “terroristic threats.”
On the contrary, the ongoing saga of the Podcast Bro vs. the Liver King illustrates a deeper truth about the fragile masculinity that undergirds the MAGA movement.
A weird story, but one that shouldn’t be dismissed as marginal or inconsequential. On the contrary, the ongoing saga of the Podcast Bro vs. the Liver King illustrates a deeper truth about the fragile masculinity that undergirds the MAGA movement. Rogan may not think he’s a clown like Johnson, but both built their careers by playing to male insecurities and the ever-elusive fantasy of “true” manhood. Johnson’s breakdown also exposes the real danger in chasing this dream, which is that it can drive a man crazy.
Rogan reportedly told police he believes Johnson is “significantly unstable” and has “a significant drug issue.” All of which feels fair, especially since Rogan is the target of Johnson’s inchoate ire. But in the narrative of masculinity that Rogan himself peddles, Johnson’s behavior makes a sick sort of sense. His “honor” was threatened by Rogan, a humiliation which is coming back up again in the wake of the Netflix documentary and a new round of stories about how Johnson used drugs to build his body. In this right-leaning form of masculinity, the way to rectify this alleged insult — even if one knows it’s true! — is to challenge your critic to a fight. It’s the might-makes-right mentality distilled.
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Rogan’s massive fortune is built on the same foundation. He sells himself to a largely male audience as a role model of machismo, highlighting his history as a college dropout who eschewed the effeminate world of learning to be a martial arts fighter and Ultimate Fighting Championship promoter. On his show, he fetishizes weightlifting, fighting sports and other clichés of hyper-masculinity, and, like Johnson, capitalizes on his audience’s insecurities by selling them useless supplements with false promises that they can “biohack” their way to domineering manhood.
Crucially, both Johnson and Rogan neatly illustrate the paradox of this form of masculinity: one that claims to be “strong,” but is actually quite fragile and easily threatened. Johnson is so cowed by accusations of fraud that he appears to have gone directly off the deep end. Rogan’s elaborate supplement regimen betrays a fear that he cannot achieve manhood on his own; he needs to treat his body like a chemistry experiment to get there. Worse, he projects his fears of emasculation outward, lashing out regularly at trans people, who destabilize the gender binary he’s so invested in, and women, mocking the very notion that they are the equal of men.
Psychologists call this paradox “precarious manhood.” In an influential 2012 paper for Psychology of Men & Masculinity, psychology professors Joseph Vandello and Jennifer Bosson defined it as “hard won and easily lost,” writing:
The precarious manhood thesis has three basic tenets: First, manhood is widely viewed as an elusive, achieved status, or one that must be earned (in contrast to womanhood, which is an ascribed, or assigned, status). Second, once achieved, manhood status is tenuous and impermanent; that is, it can be lost or taken away. Third, manhood is confirmed primarily by others and thus requires public demonstrations of proof.
In other words, men are allegedly the “stronger” sex, but their status is forever ephemeral. One small slip-up — a bright pink shirt, a girlish scream, a same-sex sexual encounter — and your “manhood” can be stripped away, perhaps permanently, leaving men who buy into this system in a constant state of anxiety, which ironically makes them seem fragile and paranoid.
This is the standard form of masculinity in the MAGA world. Donald Trump epitomizes it, of course. He’s forever bragging about how strong and tough and perfect he is, but he’s also forever whining, accusing everyone else of trying to undermine, cheat or demean him for no legitimate reason. He wants people to believe he’s all man, but he views his manhood as something that everyone wants to steal from him just for the hell of it. Trump’s followers never notice, because they live in the same world, where “real” manhood is both essential and impossible.
The rise of authoritarianism is always intertwined with precarious masculinity. It contains the very same paradox. Authoritarians claim to be “strong,” but in reality, they are so weak they cannot withstand dissent or diversity. They crave control because freedom scares them.
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The Liver King’s collapse is a tragedy on the individual scale, but there’s a sliver of hope for the rest of us here. The more men burrow into these reactionary fantasies about manhood peddled by MAGA, the harder it is to manage the paradox of precarious masculinity. The contradictions start to undermine their power.
Trump is only a few months into his second term, and his inability to navigate the conflict is already hurting him politically. His efforts to look “tough” with mass deportations and bombing Iran mostly serve as evidence of how he doesn’t know what he’s doing. His claims that he can use tariffs to force supposedly amazing trade deals have blown up in his face. Unsurprisingly, his approval ratings — which he doubtless sees as tied to his masculine power — dropped quickly.
For those who wish to hear it, there’s a lesson in this: the only way to “win” is to get off the hamster wheel of precarious masculinity. Stop trying to be a “real” man and just be a person. Instead of being so afraid of trans people, look to their fundamental revelation that your gender is what you make of it, not something you have “prove” to others. The Liver King is what happens when the ethos of MAGA masculinity reaches its logical conclusion: all muscle, but no strength.
