Does WWE Need an “Order 66” in Regards to Management and Creative?

The idea for this article came from my good friend, Reece, who is the host of the Weekly Steelchair Podcast. Go give him and his crew a listen on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@WeeklySteelchair_Pod

Professional wrestling thrives on reinvention. Territories rose and fell. Cable television restructured audiences. Streaming platforms disrupted pay-per-view. Yet few institutions in American popular culture have proven as resilient or as resistant to internal upheaval as World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE). The question of whether WWE needs an “Order 66,” a dramatic, sweeping purge of management and creative leadership, emerges not merely from fan frustration, but from structural concerns about creative stagnation, audience fragmentation, and corporate consolidation.

Borrowed from Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith, “Order 66” evokes a sudden and total institutional reset. In wrestling discourse, particularly within the Internet Wrestling Community (IWC), the phrase signals a desire for radical change: the removal of entrenched executives, creative writers, and legacy decision-makers perceived as out of step with contemporary wrestling culture. But does WWE actually require such a purge? Or would systemic recalibration suffice?

This article argues that WWE does not require an apocalyptic creative purge; rather, it requires structural decentralization, narrative coherence, and sustained strategies for talent elevation. Calls for an “Order 66” reflect deeper anxieties about authorship, corporate governance, and the tension between shareholder capitalism and creative labor.

Corporate Governance and Creative Centralization

For decades, WWE’s creative direction centered on a singular figure: Vince McMahon. His hyper-centralized control over booking decisions, scripting, character arcs, and even dialogue created brand consistency but also bottlenecked innovation. McMahon’s reported habit of rewriting scripts hours before broadcast became emblematic of a system that privileged executive instinct over collaborative planning.

The post-McMahon era, particularly under Paul Levesque (Triple H), initially signaled creative recalibration. NXT’s long-term storytelling, match-based prestige, and attention to wrestler presentation offered a counter-model to main roster volatility. Yet even under new leadership structures, WWE remains embedded within the corporate architecture of Endeavor Group Holdings following the TKO merger with Ultimate Fighting Championship.

Corporate consolidation intensifies shareholder accountability. Quarterly earnings reports, streaming metrics, and brand partnerships shape creative decision-making. The result is not incompetence; it is risk aversion. An “Order 66” aimed at management would not remove this structural reality. It would simply replace personnel within the same economic framework.

Thus, the call for a purge often misdiagnoses symptoms as causes. The tension lies less in individual incompetence and more in WWE’s hybrid identity: part live theatre, part athletic exhibition, part global entertainment conglomerate.

Creative Frustration and Fan Discourse

Fan frustration frequently crystallizes around booking decisions. Consider the prolonged championship reign of Roman Reigns. His “Tribal Chief” storyline received critical acclaim for its narrative cohesion and character development. However, extended dominance, combined with part-time appearances, generated criticism that WWE had stagnated its main-event ecosystem.

Similarly, the delayed coronation of Cody Rhodes became a lightning rod. When Rhodes lost at WrestleMania 39, fan outrage intensified. The decision was interpreted not as narrative patience, but as creative obstinacy. Online discourse framed leadership as tone-deaf.

These controversies illustrate a broader issue: WWE’s creative philosophy often privileges delayed gratification and institutional mythmaking over immediate audience validation. In contrast, competitor All Elite Wrestling (AEW) built early goodwill by rapidly elevating fan-favored performers. Yet AEW has since faced criticism for inconsistency and talent saturation.

The lesson is instructive: creative volatility is endemic to wrestling promotions. Purging management does not eliminate cyclical dissatisfaction. Wrestling audiences are participatory; they interpret, critique, and rewrite narratives through digital platforms. An “Order 66” may satisfy a symbolic desire for accountability, but it cannot eradicate structural tensions between fans and producers.

Historical Precedent: Creative Resets in Wrestling

Professional wrestling history offers examples of near-purges. During the late 1990s, WWE’s Attitude Era emerged in response to competition with World Championship Wrestling (WCW). Creative leadership empowered edgier content, elevated antiheroes, and embraced reality-infused storytelling. Yet this transformation did not stem from a single purge; it resulted from competitive pressure and cultural adaptation.

Conversely, WCW’s internal instability, marked by executive turnover and inconsistent creative authority, contributed to its collapse. Excessive resets erode narrative continuity—an “Order 66” risk replicates that fragmentation.

Institutional memory matters. Creative teams accumulate long-term knowledge of character arcs, audience demographics, and broadcast logistics. Sweeping removal could disrupt not only storytelling but operational stability.

The Labor Question: Writers, Wrestlers, and Creative Agency

Calls for management purges often ignore labor hierarchies. WWE employs a writers’ room model uncommon in wrestling’s territorial past. Wrestlers frequently report reduced autonomy compared to earlier eras. The demand for an “Order 66” sometimes reflects nostalgia for wrestler-driven creative figures such as Steve Austin or Dwayne Johnson, who shaped their personas organically.

However, WWE’s global brand requires consistency across markets, sponsorship obligations, and broadcast standards. Decentralizing creative authority might empower performers, but it also risks tonal incoherence. The solution lies not in the eradication of management but in recalibrating collaborative authorship: clearer character bibles, multi-month narrative arcs, and greater wrestler input without abandoning corporate oversight.

Metrics, Media, and the Illusion of Crisis

Contemporary wrestling discourse amplifies dissatisfaction. Social media metrics transform critique into spectacle. A single unpopular booking decision has global repercussions. Yet WWE continues to generate record revenues, secure lucrative media deals, and expand internationally.

The perception of crisis often outpaces empirical decline. Ratings fluctuations do not equal institutional failure. Merchandise sales, streaming subscriptions, and live gate receipts suggest continued audience engagement—an “Order 66” framed as an existential necessity lacks economic evidence.

Toward Reform Without Annihilation

If WWE does not require a purge, what reforms are necessary?

1. Narrative Transparency: Establish clearer long-term storytelling frameworks and communicate directional consistency.

2. Talent Rotation: Avoid overreliance on singular champions by cultivating multiple credible contenders.

3. Decentralized Input: Encourage collaboration among performers in character development.

4. Audience Calibration: Balance mythic storytelling with responsiveness to fan investment.

Such measures address root tensions without destabilizing corporate infrastructure.

Conclusion: Revolution or Evolution?

The metaphor of “Order 66” captures a visceral desire for accountability in an era of hyper-visible corporate governance. Yet professional wrestling’s endurance derives from adaptive evolution, not sudden annihilation. WWE’s challenges, creative fatigue, audience polarization, and corporate consolidation require structural refinement rather than executive decimation.

In truth, wrestling thrives on the illusion of chaos. Storylines simulate rebellion while management maintains continuity. An actual purge would jeopardize the delicate balance between spectacle and stability. WWE does not need an “Order 66.” It needs disciplined creativity, distributed authorship, and strategic patience.

In wrestling, as in empire, destruction is dramatic, but survival depends on adaptation.