It is a paradox of the highest order that real politics is now far more evident on playing fields and running tracks than in the world of official politics itself. Any form of competition inevitably creates winners, losers, and competing loyalties, which in many cases can give way to conspiracy and violence.
Even without delving into the history of the ancient civilizations that gave rise to the philosophy of sport as we know it today, including the Olympic Games in ancient Greece, there has always been ample evidence of the close relationship between politics and sport. National flags and anthems are among the clearest examples, despite the hypocrisy often displayed by sports officials whenever the subject is raised.
Many of us have read about the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games, held during the rise of Nazism.
The Games were opened by Adolf Hitler, who hoped they would present the world with an exceptional image of Germany's greatness and the superiority of the Aryan race. Indeed, some of the young participants and visitors were impressed by the organization, facilities, and overall spectacle, prompting them to replicate similar models in their own countries, even though the results on the fields and tracks did not entirely fulfill Hitler's ambitions.
Following the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979, during the closing years of the Cold War, the United States, under President Jimmy Carter, led a campaign to boycott the 1980 Moscow Olympic Games. The campaign achieved partial success. A large number of countries joined the boycott, while others refused to participate in it, and some left the decision to their national Olympic committees and athletes.
That American "victory," however, did not go unanswered. Four years later, in the summer of 1984, Moscow led a retaliatory boycott of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympic Games. Thirteen Soviet allies joined the Soviet Union in refusing to participate. After these two episodes, the idealistic calls to separate politics from sport lost much of their credibility. One should also remember the decades-long Arab boycott of Israel, the Afro-Asian, and later international, boycott of apartheid South Africa, as well as the international isolation of Taiwan following the United States' recognition of the People's Republic of China.
Turning to football, whose intensity is once again reaching fever pitch today, perhaps the best-known example is the Disgrace of Gijón during the 1982 FIFA World Cup.
On that occasion, West Germany and Austria conspired against Algeria by staging what became known as the "match of shame" during the group stage, allowing both teams to advance while eliminating Algeria. In response to this unethical episode, the FIFA adopted the rule requiring the final matches of each group to be played simultaneously, preventing similar manipulation in future tournaments.
Earlier still, in Central America, accumulated tensions between neighboring El Salvador and Honduras erupted into war in 1969 during their qualifying matches for the 1970 FIFA World Cup before international mediation brought the conflict to an end a few weeks later.
Today, the current FIFA Club World Cup in North America is marked by sharp political divisions. From the outset, it was evident that political relations between U.S. President Donald Trump and the leaderships of Mexico and Canada, the two countries co-hosting the tournament with the United States, lacked harmony. Washington's hardline stance on immigration has also translated into tighter entry restrictions affecting visitors, and even, in some cases, refereeing crews and the relatives of players from certain countries.
The slogans displayed in the stadiums testify to an atmosphere that is far removed from openness and goodwill. More troubling still are persistent complaints of poor officiating and apparent bias against particular national teams, along with allegations of official pressure from various quarters to influence results by clearing the way for favored teams while making life harder for others.
The denial of entry to a Somali international referee into the United States was only the beginning. Yet that incident was quickly overshadowed after the White House reportedly asked FIFA to suspend the automatic ban preventing American player Folarin Balogun from playing following the red card he received in the previous match.
It was not long before reports circulated alleging clear favoritism toward Argentina, reinforced by controversial refereeing during its match against Egypt. These reports eventually gave rise to claims that even tournament algorithms had been designed to ease Argentina's path by steering it away from stronger opponents.
Against this backdrop, it was hardly surprising that polarization intensified, at times spilling into open hostility, after Gianni Infantino presented President Trump with the "Peace Award," and FIFA subsequently agreed to rescind Balogun's red card.
Meanwhile, as political flags, slogans, and rivalries continue to dominate stadiums across North America, genuine politics elsewhere is itself turning into little more than a game.
From Western Europe to the recent North Atlantic Treaty Organization summit hosted by Turkey, from tensions in the Strait of Hormuz and the tragedies of the Eastern Mediterranean to Israel's growing influence over American political decision-making, both political analysis and political practice are steadily losing their seriousness.
Britain, often described as the cradle of Western democracy, is about to welcome its seventh prime minister in just ten years. Meanwhile, the Secretary General of NATO stood silently smiling as President Trump openly criticized fellow NATO member Spain in his presence.
Today, allies no less than adversaries find themselves confused and unsettled by policies that often appear to contradict their own stated objectives.
The line separating truth from incitement is becoming increasingly blurred, while political maneuvering and calculated evasions continue to multiply, fueling genuine fears of unintended slides toward catastrophe.
In short, the future ceases to appear clear when nearly everyone is aboard an aircraft flown by autopilot, buffeted by the fierce winds of competing interests.
