Maintain the Separation Between Sport and State | The American Spectator

Americans have traditionally been quite good about keeping our sense of what’s “national” distinct from the state. Until recently, the people who represent us in Washington were far removed from the people who represent us culturally. That change has been to our detriment culturally and politically. Americans should hold the line by keeping political control away from sports — even the national teams. 

The United States is an outlier for not having a secretary or minister of sport. Around the world, sport can be its own minister-level department; or it may be lumped in with tourism, youth, media, or culture, sometimes under a secretary of state. 

The contours of the national sport ministry’s portfolios vary, but the common, foundational roles are the funding and administration of their national teams.

The United States does not even do that. The United States Olympic and Paralympic Committee and the governing federations of sports that compete under the Olympic umbrella are all private 501(c)3 nonprofits. Their authority extends from Team USA all the way down to local youth and grassroots sports. 

The independence of these organizations has its roots in the Amateur Sports Act of 1978, commonly known as the Ted Stevens Act. This law granted the United States Olympic and Paralympic Committee an exclusive charter to manage those sports and organizations that represent the United States in international sports competitions. The United States Olympic and Paralympic Committee certifies the national governing bodies for each sport, giving them the imprimatur to be Team USA for their sport. 

The Supreme Court affirmed the private nature of the United States Olympic and Paralympic Committee and its constituent governing bodies in San Francisco Arts & Athletics v. United States Olympic Committee (1987). 

San Francisco Arts & Athletics, the organizers of the “Gay Olympic Games,” sued the United States Olympic Committee in response to the United States Olympic Committee’s enforcement of their trademark over the word “Olympic.” San Francisco Arts & Athletics argued that even if the United States Olympic Committee has a valid trademark on the word “Olympic,” their enforcement of it in this case was discriminatory. Therefore, because the United States Olympic Committee is a government entity, the United States Olympic Committee’s actions violated the Fifth Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause.

The Court rejected the claim that the United States Olympic Committee is anything other than the “private corporation under Federal law” recognized by the Ted Stevens Act. 

The Court observed that the push for congressional intervention in Olympic sports stemmed from dissatisfaction over the USA’s recent performance in Olympic Games; and that some of the underperformance was attributable to disorganization, conflict, and confusion between various bodies claiming to be the national federation for their sport. The Court, though, noted that the “Commission that recommended the current United States Olympic Committee powers ‘made it clear that it did not want the Federal Government directing amateur athletics in this country.’”

That recommendation was in line with the Court’s most compelling argument for the United States Olympic Committee’s nongovernmental nature. 

A private entity operating under a government charter or grant is only exercising governmental power if its actions are “traditionally the exclusive prerogative of the Federal government.” Because “[n]either the conduct nor the coordination of amateur sports has been a traditional governmental function,” the United States Olympic Committee is not a government actor.

Even during the most significant intersection of statecraft and sport in American history — the boycott of the 1980 Olympic Games in Moscow — the federal government recognized the limit of its authority. 

President Jimmy Carter understood “that neither he nor Congress could control the United States Olympic Committee’s actions directly.” Carter considered his legal options to compel the United States Olympic Committee to not participate in those Olympic Games. The Court favorably cites a district court that said that all President Carter and the federal government “had was the power of persuasion. We cannot equate this to control.”

The essence of Justice Brennan’s dissent is his pithy observation that no athlete has ever said, “I can’t pass up this chance to represent the United States Olympic Committee.” 

Everybody involved — athletes, fans, politicians, and media, both foreign and domestic — understands that America’s Olympic athletes represent the USA and not the United States Olympic Committee. Whether an athlete has his hand over his heart or his gloved fist in the air, “[t]he national flag flies both literally and figuratively over the central product of the [United States Olympic Committee].” The United States Olympic Committee is the administrative vehicle tasked by Congress to execute “the extraordinary representational responsibility” of Team USA. 

And while in simpler times “the Olympic Games [were] an event of significance only to individuals with a particular interest in athletic competition, that era is passed.” The Olympics are as geopolitical as they are athletic. As such, the Ted Stevens Act confers upon the United States Olympic Committee “the power and prestige of the United States Government.”

But here, Brennan paints himself into a corner. Having pointed out that athletes don’t aspire to represent the United States Olympic Committee, he doesn’t recognize that they don’t aspire to represent the federal government, either. 

Athletes represent and fans cheer for the United States: their country, their nation, but not their state.

The further you pursue Brennan’s prestige-and-projection framework, the more contradictions emerge. Take it all the way, and the apotheosis of state-run sports erases the national character of the putative national teams.

Countries like Türkiye, Bahrain, and Qatar exemplify the purest form of sports operated for the aims of the state. These countries are some of the most prolific consumers of surplus athletic talent in the “cash for flags” market for athlete allegiance. The Turkish government, for example, recently granted citizenship to four elite Jamaican athletes and one from Nigeria — along with a $500,000 “signing” bonus and lucrative performance-based incentives. All five compete in track & field, a sport in which Türkiye has only won two Olympic medals in its history. 

The generous interpretation is that the Turkish government is hoping that a quick win with outside talent will jumpstart the development of its national program and inspire homegrown athletes. But the immediate gratification of state prestige comes at the expense of national representation. Such tradeoffs are even more interesting in a country with an otherwise nationalist leader like Türkiye under Recep Erdogan. 

Governments that only want to see their flag in the Olympics will put their national colors on anyone, regardless of the athletes’ culture or actual allegiance. This is statecraft at its most superficial, and purely for external consumption. 

American athletes do not need to worry about foreign-born athletes jeopardizing their national team ambitions. Our athletes are just that good, and our government has no authority to buy a team of ringers.  

The United States’ success in international sporting competitions reflects our political system: Our politics do nothing for our sports, and therefore can do nothing to our sports. 

A recent policy paper from the Ethics & Public Policy Center calls on Congress and the Executive Branch to take steps that will move us closer to the rest of the world’s sports governance model. Their leading proposal is for the government to intervene “to limit the use of images, symbols, slogans, messages, and colors on Team USA [gear] to our flag, renderings of our flag, and our national colors of red, white, and blue.” The motivation behind this and other recommendations is the desire for “sports governance that is willing and able to make American sports excellent, not ‘global,’ not ‘DE&I’-oriented, not ‘equitable.’”

This would require a significant change to the Ted Stevens Act, and would require the Supreme Court to overturn SFAA.  

But simply from a sporting perspective, such a change would jeopardize America’s sporting excellence even more than the woke initiatives that have made their way into Team USA uniforms and events. 

America’s athletic excellence arises from a sporting culture and governance system that is uniquely and exceptionally American, one free of government control. Instead of a single, centralized development pathway for athletes and coaches on the government payroll (or dole), our athletes funnel up through a chaotic, complex, and competitive market. Instead of political, partisan, and bureaucratic considerations influencing decisions about who should represent us — and how — in international sporting competitions, those decisions are kept as close to the sport as possible. 

Returning to Justice Brennan’s “representation function” of the United States Olympic Committee, the most American thing ever — at least in a national athletic team sense — is for Team USA to be a private enterprise, with as much responsibility and authority devolved to the local grassroots level as possible. 

As a result, our medal-laden national teams and national athletes are truly that: national, not governmental. 

Political statements — by athletes, teams, leagues, and fans on both the read and blue teams — have regrettably become part of sports. 

But Americans should reject any attempts to hand sports over to political control.

A clear separation between the nation and the state is essential for free people to flourish in a dynamic culture. We can fortify that distinction, and project the best of our American identity, by maintaining the separation between sport and state.