Blindboy, wrestling, emotional literacy and why Andrew Tate is basically a toddler

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One of the most interesting things about listening to Blindboy is how he doesn’t just leave behind the answers. He’ll take you through a complex thought field, like any good Irish storyteller. There is seemingly no end to the depth and breadth of where his mind will go next. And somehow, the threads all come together in the end.

Most people don’t expect a conversation about emotional maturity, masculinity and politics to include wrestling, but that’s exactly where Blindboy weaves. In the Novara podcast interview, he and Ash Sarkar take us on a wide-ranging conversation of politics, masculinity, religion, social media and emotional wellbeing. Big props to Ash, she holds her own, meeting Blindboy at every turn. Like leaving an itch unscratched, you’ll be left wanting more. And there is so much more crammed into every corner of this chat.

Blindboy starts out describing solemnity as ‘the performance of seriousness’, pointing to institutions such as the monarchy, the art world and in the army. The authority remains only so long as everyone agrees to treat it as unquestionable. Inject humor into these spaces and it all starts falling apart and reveals absurdity. A bit like lifting the curtain on the Wizard of Oz.

Which is ironic for a man who always shows up in public wearing a plastic red and white grocery bag over his face. The woolen beanie he wears atop his head completes the costume and is so he doesn’t look ‘too ridiculous’ with just a bag on his head.

The idea of professional wrestling becomes an unexpected metaphor for modern politics. In wrestling, everyone participates in ‘kayfabe’ — the collective agreement between the audience to suspend disbelief and enjoy the performance, much like theatre. The audience knows it’s not real, the wrestlers know it’s not real, but everyone agrees to it being performed as such — unlike theatre.

According to Blindboy, modern politics — specifically Donald Trump and MAGA — has weaponised the concept. When Donald Trump gets caught in a contradiction (or even a flat out lie), the performance itself becomes the defence. If everything is a joke, then nothing can be challenged. If nothing is serious, accountability disappears. The audience is left wondering whether they should laugh or be deeply concerned. Ultimately, we are left never quite sure whether to take anything seriously and we certainly never know what is real or not.

This blurring of reality and performance is only amplified by and through social media. Blindboy compares online behaviour to picking your nose in a car. You know other people can see you, but it doesn’t feel real. You will have a real dig around regardless of your window being completely see through. The result is a disinhibiting effect that encourages people to say and do things they would never consider in face-to-face interactions.

Beneath these observations sits a deeper concern about emotional maturity and masculinity, where he takes the conversation on a turn to touch on the influence of ‘public intellectuals’ such as Jordan Peterson. Blindboy describes Peterson as a gateway into the “manosphere”, a network of online communities centred around grievance, identity and rigid ideas about gender.

Blindboy is particularly critical of contemporary versions of masculinity promoted by figures such as Trump and Andrew Tate. Rather than strength, he sees childishness, tantrums and selfishness. The kind of behaviour you would expect from a toddler. The kind of behaviour most parents would expect their children to outgrow by primary school. For Blindboy, the challenge should not be whether someone is being masculine or feminine, but whether they are behaving like an adult.

He suggests that rather than thinking through the lens of gender — what would an adult do?

That question shifts the conversation away from identity and towards responsibility. Adult behaviour is not about dominance or winning every conflict. It is about self-awareness, emotional regulation and the ability to coexist with others. Conflict, in this framework, is not necessarily about victory. Sometimes the goal is simply to understand each other, repair relationships or find a way forward that allows everyone to be happy.

Emotional literacy is central to this idea of being responsible for your behaviours. Blindboy challenges the common perception that vulnerability is merely about crying or displaying sadness. The harder work, he argues, is confronting uncomfortable emotions such as jealousy, insecurity, envy and low self-esteem.

What is notably absent from much of the manosphere content, he observes, is discussion of love, compassion, kindness and care. These qualities are often dismissed as weakness despite being fundamental to healthy relationships and strong communities.

The discussion returns to the tension between emotion and reason. While facts matter, Blindboy notes that emotions are often more powerful (also see the vaccination debate). Without critical thinking and self-reflection, people frequently bend facts to fit their emotional needs rather than adjusting their beliefs in response to evidence.

This insight informs his approach to political conversations. Rather than labelling someone as ‘far right’, he suggests a more productive response might be to point out: ‘I know you’re repeating some far-right talking points.’ The distinction is subtle but important. One approach attacks identity while the other focuses on behaviour and ideas. When people feel their identity is under attack, they often become more entrenched. By discussing specific beliefs instead of assigning labels, there is greater opportunity for reflection and dialogue.

On another thought wander, Blindboy draws on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, where he speaks about self-actualisation not as personal achievement but as contribution to society. Once our own needs are met, the question becomes: how generous can we be? What can we give away? How can we contribute to our communities?

In an era dominated by performance, outrage and self-promotion, it is a surprisingly simple proposition. The measure of a good life may not be status, influence or certainty. It may simply be our capacity for kindness, emotional honesty and connection with others. If the loudest voices online are teaching people to be richer, stronger, more dominant and more self-interested, perhaps the radical act isn’t becoming more important.

Maybe that’s Blindboy’s point. Perhaps we should all be concentrating on becoming more human.