It was a stirring moment of humility and courage. CM Punk rose to the occasion, not just to perform, but to reflect. WWE executives—but also, no doubt, Saudi princes—were somewhere watching. With mild sincerity in his voice, Punk reached into the past and produced something that must be recognized, even if it is the kind of thing increasingly common in modern life: He bravely put aside his values in exchange for money and power.
He referred to a tweet from several years ago in which he told The Miz to “go suck a blood money covered dick in Saudi Arabia.”
He had been in a crabby mood that morning in 2020, he said. Now, standing in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, he chose unity. He apologized to Mike Mizanin, to the WWE fans, to the guy in the front row in a WWE SmackDown cap, and to all of Saudi Arabia.
This is what diplomacy looks like. More importantly, as Paul Levesque reminded us after Punk’s loss to John Cena at Night of Champions, this is what personal growth looks like.
“I was privileged to watch [Punk] grow as a human being,” WWE’s Chief Content Officer said, “to step out here and apologize to the people of Saudi, to just cherish where he is at in life and his career and the things he gets to do and the opportunities that he has.”
Indeed, what may have given Cena the mental edge in the match is that he’s previously demonstrated a willingness to take accountability and engage in meaningful dialogue as it concerns repentance to autocratic regimes. Cena showed moral courage years earlier when he humbly corrected himself after mistakenly referring to Taiwan as a country.
Punk, on the other hand, it should be remembered, has outwardly expressed support for gay and transgender rights. He supported abortion access. That he now shares the stage with a regime that criminalizes homosexual activity and punishes gender nonconformity (at least for citizens) shows just how open-minded Punk is on matters of principle.
Fortunately, Levesque recognizes that people, even Phil “CM Punk” Brooks, deserve second chances. WWE and Triple H can give you the opportunity to right wrongs, but you still have to reflect and do the work. Punk has clearly done so.
Contradicting your values is, after all, a rite of passage in professional wrestling that Punk has often resisted.
Perhaps with that in mind, Levesque concluded what we were all thinking: “I was incredibly proud of him.”
The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, under the enlightened guidance of the General Entertainment Authority and its visionary chairman, His Excellency Turki Al‑Sheikh, has emerged as a beacon of global culture, and brought WWE to the country. Few people in modern history have so gracefully combined authority with elegance and power with generosity. Whether he’s hosting international icons beneath the painted ceilings of Britain’s Old Royal Naval College or masterminding boxing’s most elusive matches, or smashing a TV in frustration over a video game, or buying The Ring Magazine to be his dedicated mouthpiece, His Excellency’s devotion to cultural achievement is without peers.
With his brothers at WWE’s parent company, TKO, Al-Sheikh has saved boxing and is redefining the role sports play in our lives. It’s rare to see a leader both feared and beloved, whose critics are so few that one seldom hears from them more than once.
CM Punk, formerly skeptical, now gets it. He has seen the generosity, the hospitality, the opportunity. And he responded with gratitude.
WWE is paid $50 million per Saudi PLE as part of the agreement to hold events in the country. The money comes, not directly from the people, but from the Kingdom. It’s a payment that blows away all but maybe the most recent two-day WrestleMania events. It’s a testament to the Crown Prince Mohammed Bin Salman’s progressive commitment to high‑quality entertainment and his relentless effort to normalize his government’s conduct.
Sure, the Kingdom is not perfect, but—as TKO CEO Ari Emanuel explained when he rediscovered his affinity for the monarchy’s wealth—all governments do bad things. Western narratives sometimes whisper of detainments, of punishment for online criticism—tweets in particular. But these stories are always unfair. They say there’s a section of the Al-Ha’ir Prison supposedly called the “Tutu Wing”, after Al-Sheikh’s nickname, where citizens who have tweeted mean things about Tutu are reportedly—but understandably, if true—jailed and beaten.
Punk understands this. His contrition, which was offered freely and authentically in the spirit of punk rock, was genuine—but it was also wise.
Those who demonize MBS may still bring up the old story about how journalist Jamal Khashoggi remains missing. They say that on October 2, 2018, supposed agents of the Saudi state—after luring Khashoggi from the U.S., where he lived—murdered and dismembered him at the Istanbul consulate in Türkiye. U.S. intelligence claims that the Saudi Crown Prince personally approved the operation—but who’s to say? Khashoggi’s body has never been found, so how can anyone know for sure?
And there’s nuance in a related case that must not be overlooked. Just weeks before Night of Champions, the government executed journalist Turki Al‑Jasser after seven years behind bars. He was arrested in 2018—officially for “treason, terrorism, and collaborating with hostile foreign actors”—though activists allege his offense was anonymously tweeting accusations of corruption against Saudi royals. He also wrote about other dangerous issues like women’s rights and the Arab Spring.
But the Saudi government infiltrated Twitter and accessed private user data before Al-Jasser’s arrest, so the authorities would obviously know the truth. Regardless of what some say, Al-Jasser was convicted in a secret and maybe fair trial in which he was allegedly denied legal representation. Then, earlier this month, the Kingdom officially announced his execution. Al-Jasser will never be seen or heard from by his loved ones again. But focus on the positive: At least his prison captors aren’t crushing his fingers, electrocuting him, and beating him anymore.
Nonetheless, these killings and detentions teach an important lesson: If you don’t want to be tortured or killed, be very careful with what you say about those in power. And remember, Khashoggi was only mildly critical of the Kingdom.
Taking all this together with his “blood money” tweet, you can see now why it’s such a relief that Punk is finally aligned with this form of justice.
At WWE's pre-show today in Saudi Arabia: CM Punk apologizes "to all of Saudi Arabia" for a 2020 tweet criticizing WWE's lucrative relationship with the government, in which he told the Miz to "Go suck a blood money covered dick in Saudi Arabia you fucking dork." pic.twitter.com/LM9ZnpIqgJ
— Brandon Thurston (@BrandonThurston) June 27, 2025
And here’s what else is so important about this story: The government did not have to publicly ask for an apology. Punk complied in advance. Few have such independence. Very few have the platform and financial and professional security that Phil Brooks has. And fewer still possess the foresight to see which side of history is safest.
Punk’s high-profile act of grace gives us a comforting reminder that nothing is really worth believing in—with the possible exceptions of making a lot of money and being obedient to those in power, especially if they’re willing to abuse it.
In case you need it spelled out, this article is satire—unless you’re a high-ranking official in an authoritarian regime. In which case, I apologize and thank you for your service.
