Athletes set the tone in stadiums, not parliaments. However, in the era of political dependence on the intersection of technology and media, athletes have become unlikely but potent allies in politics. Once national icons, sports figures across the globe are now being redrafted into entirely new uniforms: those of political activists, cultural symbols, and even ideological advocates.
Athletes no longer merely represent teams; they represent messages. Governments, parties, and politicians across the globe are seizing the cultural capital that sports icons possess to court voters, bolster their credibility, and cast a veil over blatantly authoritarian practices under the banner of national unity. This shift is most clearly visible in the recent political entry of Mesut Özil, a former Real Madrid and Arsenal star, who has joined Turkey’s ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP).
Politicians chase athlete endorsements to garner visibility and strengthen credibility. Athletes possess massive platforms, cross-cutting appeal, and public trust, particularly among younger, more politically disengaged voters. They are seen as neutral and apolitical figures, detached from traditional politics; that is, the partisan and ideologically driven space typically associated with positions in elected office.
This distance makes them seem even more authentic to the ordinary person. When athletes speak out, they are often seen as doing so from a place of conviction, not ambition. Their endorsements feel less like strategy and more like sincerity. This gives them cultural legitimacy and credibility, especially to audiences that tune out conventional political debates and discourse. Ironically, by not being politicians, athletes can sometimes be more politically persuasive to the ordinary person.
Yet, this perceived neutrality is quite often an illusion. When an athlete like Özil enters the political sphere, it is not merely personal conviction on display. It is a strategic recruitment.
In 2018, Özil sparked controversy by posing for a photo with Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, just weeks before a national election. While Özil defended the moment as a gesture of respect for his ancestral heritage, the implications ran far deeper. The historically oppressive Turkish government’s embrace of Özil serves not only to mobilize national sentiment but also to soften the public and international community’s image of the country: an authoritarian nation. It was a calculated act of soft power branding: using a globally recognizable, ethnically Turkish, German-born football superstar to humanize a regime otherwise criticized for democratic backsliding.
Özil’s ensuing resignation from Germany’s national team, citing racism and disrespect toward his Turkish background, further fueled the political media uproar. Erdoğan’s administration embraced him even more, turning Özil into a symbol of national pride and loyalty. What looked like a moment of personal conviction became a part of a broader political scheme that leveraged the athlete’s fame to bolster domestic support.
From democratic election cycles to autocratic propaganda, this formula holds. The athlete humanizes power. And power, in turn, legitimizes its presence through association with the familiar and the beloved.
This tactic is not uniquely Turkish. In Russia, athletes are interwoven into nationalistic narratives that prop up Putin while serving as distractions from state repression. In China, people like Yao Ming serve as cultural diplomats, reinforcing the Communist Party’s global charm offensive. In the United States, the political involvement of athletes is even more visible: LeBron James’ grassroots mobilization to Tom Brady’s quiet nods of alignment.
These examples span continents and ideologies, yet they follow the same playbook: athletes are used to inspire loyalty, stir patriotism, or lend authenticity to otherwise polarizing regimes. In some cases, they drive genuine awareness; in others, they distract from crackdowns, corruption, or incompetence. The jersey becomes a flag. The game becomes a campaign.
However, this marriage of sport and state is not without costs. When athletes enter politics, willingly or otherwise, they risk becoming political weapons. In the process, they are often stripped of nuance and bound to narratives not of their own making. This not only jeopardizes their personal agency but also undermines public discourse by substituting charisma for competence.
In the worst case, notably seen in authoritarian regimes, athletes may have little choice. Their visibility becomes vulnerability, their silence a statement, their alignment a survival tactic. The line between endorsement and coercion blurs. And the public, swayed by fame rather than facts, becomes an easier target for manipulation.
In democratic societies, the risk is subtler. The over-politicization of sports may deepen polarization and elevate eccentric personalities over effective policy. It also risks fostering a political culture where athletes’ spectacles overshadow substance that truly contributes to society.
This trend demands scrutiny not because athletes shouldn’t speak, but because the platforms they occupy have immense influence. When Mesut Özil joins Erdoğan’s party, it is not just news: it is narrative construction. It is the state borrowing the credibility of sport to sell its ideology to millions.
Hence, the question is not whether athletes should be political: it is whether the politics behind their platforms are transparent, democratic, and driven by truth rather than expedience. In many cases, they are not.
Mesut Özil’s integration into Turkish politics is not just another headline, but a symbol of a broader shift in global governance. Around the world, governments are repurposing athletes into political assets, creating a new kind of playbook, where the game is persuasion, and the stakes are the essence of democracy.
The thing about playbooks is that they only work if the audience does not see them coming.
The next time an athlete acts as a political advocate, we may question whether their words are the voice of the player themselves or an echo of the regime in the country’s capital.
Because in the global stadium of politics, the jersey might be yours. But the play, more often than not, is theirs.
Featured Image Source: Adobe Stock
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