The Difference Between AEW & WWE
A Short Essay
To the uninitiated WWE and AEW might appear interchangeable. Both fall under the heading “professional wrestling” after all (whether or not WWE has tried to distance itself from this reality in the past and whether or not AEW has done enough to differentiate itself). Despite the fact that they share a lot of DNA, WWE and AEW are philosophically opposed. With this piece I endeavor to explain how they’re different and why that even matters.
Let’s begin with the obvious: wrestling matches.
In WWE pro-wrestling matches, specifically on weekly TV, are secondary from a narrative point of view. That means that WWE does the bulk of its storytelling in lengthy promos, backstage segments, interviews, replays, scenes, and vignettes. Matches rarely carry narrative stakes on weekly WWE TV, and the results are middling and forgettable.
A discerning wrestling fan can feel the procedural, rote quality of these wrestling matches and easily predict the outcomes based upon the evident goal of the match. The goal of most matches is to make the victor “look strong” rather than push the narrative in an unexpected or interesting direction.
WWE also prioritizes ad revenue over narrative consistency. When a wrestling fan fires up Netflix and sits down to watch all of Raw, they’re agreeing to be bombarded by a steady stream of ads, even within the framework of a wrestling match.
Commerce, not story, is primary in WWE.
The effect this has on the product is disastrous from the perspective of an art critic like myself. It’s nearly impossible to deconstruct the metaphorical significance of a bout when it ultimately amounts to an advertisement for Prime Energy or Mug Root Beer. Why bother emotionally investing in a match that does not do the work of earning that emotional investment, especially when its primary function is seeking a financial investment? This is why responses to weekly WWE matches are so tepid, both from the live crowd and the internet.
In AEW, pro-wrestling matches, both on weekly TV and pay-per-views, are the primary engine for narrative. The matches themselves are the devices through which the stories are told. Promos, vignettes, scenes, and interviews merely expand upon what happens in the matches, not the other way around. As a result, the audience is encouraged to actually pay attention to what happens in a bout, emotionally invest in the struggle of the characters, and pop with enthusiasm as they’re seduced into suspending their disbelief.
And this brings me to the fundamental philosophical difference between AEW and WWE.
AEW’s philosophy of presentation is informed by the conceit that professional wrestling is a legitimate sport where the best (or “elite”) do battle for fame, fortune, and power.
WWE’s philosophy of presentation is informed by the conceit that…well that’s just it…WWE doesn’t actually have a narrative conceit.
There is no fictional framework undergirding WWE’s narrative universe. It is merely the biggest promotion. Full stop. That’s the justification and explanation for its existence. It’s not telling a story about competition — it’s merely presenting a giant billboard for its own logo.
It’s not even where “the best superstars” come to do battle for championship supremacy. It is merely the most successful promotion in professional wrestling history and that fact is meant to inspire us to inherently care about what it produces.
The sad thing is that this works for many fans. WWE’s lack of a conceit, that which would give its world a sense of purpose and intrigue, is obfuscated by the sheer scale of the company. It is supported by the pillars of nostalgia and wealth. AEW is supported by the pillars of three-dimensional characters and wrestling matches (no matter their placement on the card) with narrative implications.
An event occurs in AEW and it has a profound impact on the characters involved. These characters have memories, and that historical memory rewards the longterm investment of the viewer. For example, Hangman Adam Page once burnt down Swerve’s house. This event is not merely forgotten as a silly digression. It is woven into the fabric of Page’s evolution as a character.
Consider Seth Rollins, of WWE, one of Raw’s main characters. Is there a consistently referenced institutional memory of this character and what he’s accomplished in WWE, or is he flailing wildly from one month to the next, oriented around fleeting moods, goals, and desires? What is his worldview and what motivates him? One week he’s hiding among a group of masked henchman, the next he’s being driven through the announcer’s table. It’s all just kind of silly and disorganized, the characters lacking depth and authenticity.
Where WWE seems to favor a select few and begrudgingly book one or two wrestlers who’ve dared to “get over organically” (e.g. LA Knight), AEW actively seems to love its cast. There’s a sense of play with AEW’s roster, as though Tony Khan is enthusiastically exploring various combinations of characters in the interest of fulfilling his imagined scenarios.
One company appears to resent much of its roster (particularly the midcard), where the other appears to genuinely appreciate and celebrate its roster (at all levels of the card). It’s around now that some readers will say, “Tim, you’re biased”. Bias indicates a separation from reality, a bad faith argument rooted in one’s desire to undermine something unjustly. Describing the ways in which AEW is more successful at professional wrestling storytelling than WWE is not bias — it’s merely an accurate observation. It would be biased to claim AEW does nothing wrong and to heap praise upon it regardless of whether or not it was any good, simply to spite WWE.
That’s not what I do in my analysis. If I do have a bias, it’s toward good storytelling. I’m loyal to the art of professional wrestling itself, not any one organization. That principle overrides all of my specific feelings about particular promotions. Examining differences and forging opinions based on those observations is only natural, and so long as those opinions are respectfully articulated and supported by evidence we should be able to rest easy as readers, listeners, and viewers and not cry foul.
It’s important to point out these differences so that we might more accurately critique these shows and understand where they succeed and where they fail.
WWE is in desperate need of a conceit. If it had that, the rest would follow.
AEW is in need of an extra dose of originality, a willingness to stretch beyond the DNA it shares with WWE, WCW, and New Japan, and excitedly sign its name into the fabric of wrestling history.