Despite the old cliche that ‘football and politics should never mix’, the two share more common ground than we often realise. They can both be mind-numbingly boring at times but intensely tribalistic too. Opposing sides are always certain that their methods are ‘the right way’. 

We’ve seen similar tricks pulled in Brazil with former president Jair Bolsonaro enlisting the help of the country’s biggest players before the 2022 election. Neymar, Thiago Silva and Dani Alves all came out in support of the far-right leader - using his catchphrases and dancing to a campaign jingle on TikTok. The uncomfortable truth being that these players came from the same disadvantaged areas of Brazil that Bolsanaro cruelly neglected during the pandemic.

But when the boot is on the other foot and footballers stand up against politicians who seek to undermine specific communities , they are deemed unequipped to be part of the discussion. The idea that players are on-pitch entities who exist solely for our entertainment. Or for political gain.

We’ve seen this happen in the UK too. British politicians like to remind us that politics and football should be kept separate, only to politicise the sport when it suits them. Former Prime Minister Rishi Sunak said fans don’t want to hear Gary Neville discuss politics after the former Man United pundit called Qatari working conditions “abhorrent” on ITV before the 2022 WC final. But Sunak is more than happy to remind the public how much he loves Southampton - even shamelessly using the club’s Premier League promotion as a guarantee he won’t move to California after losing the General Election.

He simply doesn’t come across like a man of the people - so he leans on football’s cultural cache to give him credibility. But it’s just so inauthentic (see: David Cameron confusing Aston Villa with West Ham). 

The same can be said for Keir Starmer’s proclamation of his support for Arsenal - widely known as England’s culture club - at politically convenient times. His painfully scripted, AI-inspired spiels about the job Mikel Arteta is doing as manager read like someone trying to get their football-loving crush to notice them. 

Most recently, the Prime Minister made a pitchside appearance before the Euros final with his best mate Gary Neville. What was supposed to be a rallying encouragement from Starmer ended up being a self-serving monologue where he desperately tried to associate himself with the everyday football fan. If we’re to believe footballers don’t know anything about politics, politicians have shown us they know even less about football.

The courage players like Thuram and Jules Koundé have shown when voicing their opinions at such a politically sensitive time is worth commending. But the one-sided nature of football's relationship with politics proves the connection between the two worlds goes well beyond the surface of what we saw throughout the Euros.

If the competition has taught us anything, it’s that politics and football aren’t just linked, they’re inseparable. That the sport can be co-opted by super-nationalist footballers and divisive politicians is all the evidence you need.

Those distasteful events at the Euros show us we still have some way to go. But the same platforms which politicians have used to launder their reputations are being used by players themselves to rally against the deeply problematic rhetoric that has spread across the continent. It’s not a coincidence that any moderately progressive political contribution a footballer makes is rubbished.

So the next time you hear someone say football and politics don’t mix, ask yourself: who those politics affect.

But even outside of these overlaps, the two worlds are inescapably entangled now more than ever. This past Euros was a constant reminder of that. 

Political tensions across the continent had already flared before the tournament began. The rise of the far right across Europe over the last few years was formalised in the most recent European Union elections. Germany, France and Italy among other nations all saw right wing parties take the largest number of seats in the European Parliament just days before the start of the Euros. What was supposed to be a celebration of differing cultures, instead saw simmering political hostilities come to the fore in the most divisive of ways. 

Albania forward Mirlind Daku was banned for two games after shouting “f*** Macedonia and “f*** Serbs!” into a megaphone after his side’s 2-2 draw with Croatia. UEFA is investigating claims made by the Serbian FA that Albania and Croatia fans chanted “kill, kill, kill the Serb” during their group game. Turkey defender Merih Demiral was banned for two matches after making an ultra-nationalist gesture during his side’s last-16 win against Austria. A Kosovan TV reporter has been banned from working at the tournament after making a double-headed eagle signal with his hands towards Serbian fans during their opening game. The gesture refers to Albania’s flag and has long been a symbol of animosity between the two nations.

The list of examples go on.

The most striking takeaway from this is these events are a direct contrast to the unity that international tournaments usually represent. Instead, Euro 2024 became a proxy for stoking political tensions. But this isn’t the first time football has been misused to serve political agendas. Politicians and sporting authorities have tried to separate football and politics over the years, while also using the sport for their own gains.

Footballers have often been criticised for involving themselves in political matters – often told to shut up and dribble instead – but it has never been that simple. Most footballers come from humble, often working class backgrounds, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that they feel passionate about policies that seek to further marginalise those who look like them or share their experiences. As protagonists in the biggest sport in the world, these athletes have the reach to combat far-right ideologies that have taken Europe by storm in recent months.

But this is where the double-edged sword lies. Whenever a footballer attempts to talk truth to a political power, they are quickly branded out of touch because of their success. They are attacked for who they are rather than the point they are trying to make. But the reality is, any statement a footballer makes wouldn’t resonate without that success either. In fact, it would be much easier for them to wash their hands of the plight of their people given their success. But this is not a reality which players want to live in.

Footballers today aren’t just athletes or brands. They represent something much more powerful. They’re among the most influential people in the world and we’ve already seen the biggest footballers use their influence to spark change - particularly in the political world. Marcus Rashford, Tyrone Mings — and more recently Marcus Thuram — have stood up for underrepresented groups in the face of political injustice.

Speaking at a Euro 2024 press conference, Thuram urged the French people to vote against Marine le Pen’s far-right National Rally (RN) after they claimed victory in France’s European elections. That a player of his profile would take the opportunity to denounce a deeply divisive political party with a general election on the horizon should be celebrated.

Yet it was Kylian Mbappé’s comments that revealed how interlinked football and politics have become in recent times. The 25-year-old echoed Thuram’s sentiments but, as captain of the national team, did so with caution. There was no mention of any political parties and he instead spoke more generally about the importance of preserving “tolerance, diversity and respect.” His lack of directness has since been interpreted as a lukewarm challenge of both the far-right and the far-left - what some would call a ‘politician’s response’.

However, Mbappé’s ambiguous comments are a result of how politics has used football for its own benefit. While he hadn’t previously backed any parties, Emmanuel Macron has aligned himself with Mbappé for years - inviting him to numerous diplomatic lunches and dinners since he was a teenager. In essence, courting an international superstar to legitimise his standing in the public eye - particularly among younger politically disenfranchised voters.