In a world where comic book villains often serve as metaphors for real-world corruption, it’s a damning sign of the times that Wilson Fisk—a fictional crime lord who rose to political power by manipulating public fear—feels like the more stable option compared to the man currently occupying the White House.
President Donald J. Trump, now serving his second term, has pushed the Overton window so far that even Marvel’s most unapologetically authoritarian character reads as a measured alternative. And that isn’t hyperbole—it’s a reflection of the political moment that currently takes place. Fisk, known to many as the Kingpin of Crime, was always intended as an allegory of authoritarian leaders. But what was once symbolic has become alarmingly literal.
Both fictional Mayor Wilson Fisk and President Donald Trump are convicted felons who nevertheless managed to win elected office. For Trump, it was a whirlwind of legal controversies—business fraud, obstruction-related charges and ongoing litigation—that culminated in convictions which, shockingly, did not prevent him from winning reelection. For Fisk, his criminal record as a mob boss was obscured through a mix of intimidation, media control (Trump has also claimed media as “Fake News”) and political rebranding.
Both leveraged the label “businessman” as a kind of immunity, reframing their histories of exploitation and control as proof of executive ability. To their supporters, the authority figures’ felony convictions weren’t red flags—they were signs of rebellion against the so-called “deep state” or “elitist bureaucracy.” In short, the crimes became credentials.
But what differentiates them is how they wield power.
Trump governs from a place of chaos. His second term has been a continuation—and escalation—of a presidency marked by revenge, self-interest and systemic dismantling. His vendettas against public institutions, science and even education are carried out, not to build something better, but to destroy what came before.
Fisk, for all his brutality and moral bankruptcy, governs through order. His fictional administration in Marvel’s Daredevil universe is fascistic, yes—but at least it’s coherent. His goals, while self-serving, don’t involve torching public education or slashing healthcare for the most vulnerable etc. He wants control. Trump wants domination, then demolition.
Now, it’s important to be clear: Wilson Fisk is not a hero, and this piece isn’t an attempt to rehabilitate him. His mayoral regime included the formation of a drastic anti-vigilante task force that led to at least 13 fictional American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) cases in the Marvel universe. These lawsuits cited illegal surveillance, unlawful detainment and excessive force— all of which are blatant violations of civil liberties.
Fisk’s obsession with eliminating vigilantes—specifically street-level heroes like Daredevil—was less about justice and more about securing his grip on the city’s narrative. He framed masked heroes as lawless threats to public safety, and weaponized fear to centralize his power.
Sound familiar?
Of course it does. The same strategy is alive and well in Trump’s second administration: criminalize dissent, delegitimize watchdogs, label adversaries as enemies of the state. But here’s the key difference—Fisk’s overreach, while authoritarian, targeted fictional vigilantes. Trump’s targets are real people.
Trump’s past anti-immigration policies escalated to include family separation programs and detainment without trial. His administration eliminated the Department of Education as we know it, pushing “patriotic education” and slashed funding for public schools. National Institute of Health (NIH) funding for life-saving research is being gutted in favor of ideological “budget efficiency.” And perhaps most alarmingly, bodily autonomy—particularly women’s reproductive rights—has been under full-scale assault.
Fisk’s authoritarianism, while despicable, doesn’t stretch into private healthcare decisions or LGBTQ+ protections. His war is waged against a subset of caped crusaders, not against the basic civil rights of millions.
There’s a haunting irony here. Fisk is a character built to personify corruption—to show what happens when crime wears a suit and calls itself progress. In “Daredevil: Born Again” and Netflix’s “Daredevil,” Fisk is practically dripping with Trump-coded characteristics: disdain for journalists, real estate empire, language of populism masking elitist greed, and a willingness to sacrifice innocent people for optics.
In fact, Daredevil writers have never been subtle. Fisk has always been a vehicle for critiquing authoritarian populism. The towering frame, the guttural speeches about restoring order, the fixation on enemies both “within and without”—it’s all right there.
But at least he’s fiction.
At least Fisk’s cruelty is contained within panels and scripted arcs. At least he isn’t sending real children to court without funding for legal representation. At least under Fisk, no one’s trying to erase decades of climate research, or redefine gender identity by fiat, or turn schools into battlegrounds for cultural warfare.
Trump, on the other hand, is real. His policies don’t fade with the credits—they persist, harm, and metastasize across every branch of government.
Fisk is obsessed with controlling the narrative. In the comics he buys media companies, plants stories and orchestrates public spectacles to reinforce his version of truth. Trump does the same—but with fewer checks. He has weaponized platforms like Truth Social and Fox News to amplify misinformation at a scale Fisk could only dream of.
Unlike Fisk, whose control exists within the boundaries of a fictional legal system, Trump has the nuclear codes. His second term has seen increasing hostility toward democratic norms, including renewed threats to use the Justice Department as a political weapon, and a blatant disregard for judicial independence.
Even in fiction, writers tend to give villains boundaries. They’ll show you what unchecked power looks like, but rarely will they go so far as to destroy the entire world.
Real-life, unfortunately, has no such narrative mercy.
This isn’t a call to “Vote Fisk 2028!” It’s a warning flare. The bar has sunk so far to the point that a comic book villain seems like a safer political option than the current president of the United States (U.S.). The current government is far from a healthy democracy – it’s not even a satire anymore – it’s the tragic source material. Fisk is meant to be scary, but when Trump outpaces that fear in real time, it’s a sign that modern institutions are weaker than fiction.
Because at least in fiction, the vigilante always rises. The hero gets back up. The people fight back.
Right now, in 2025, it’s unclear if the U.S. will.
Verdict: When a fictional crime lord like Wilson Fisk offers more consistent protections for civil rights than the real-life President, it’s not just dystopian—it’s a damning indictment of how far society has fallen.
