The Worst Sport of Them All

The crowd roared as their favorite player walked into the arena, waiting anxiously with their phones raised to see his next move. If it’s a good move, they cheer; if it’s a bad one, they cheer anyway. In this game, one is a fan for life. Some have traveled hundreds of miles to be here, decked out in their team’s colors, their favorite player’s name emblazoned on their shirts. Many others are tuned in from home.

This scene might not be what you expect: it is neither the World Cup nor the Super Bowl, but a political rally for United States President Donald Trump. Yet the energy is eerily similar to a high-end sports match, charged with mob mentality, mass consumerism, and unwavering loyalty. The difference is that, while sports fans can be unruly and threaten the peace of city streets a couple of nights a year, these kinds of fans threaten the very foundations of the democratic process.

It’s not just contemporary American Republicans that fall into this trap. Political fanaticism has always co-existed with presidential regimes; just look at the massive parade hosted for George Washington when he was sworn in as the first President of the United States. However, in recent years, the nature of political fanaticism has shifted, from an interest to an identity.

As a student of politics, I cannot argue that political engagement is harmful. In fact, the opposite is true: not engaging, at least minimally, in the political process when you have the resources to do so is a failure of human empathy. What I find dangerous is the way politics has evolved into a game, where most fans don’t even know the rules—it seems we have lost the will to genuinely understand policies. Without this type of critical relationship between leaders and followers, there is truly nothing the leader can do to lose said followers: that is the scariest reality of all.

I want to stress that supporting a candidate during an election is not the problem. In that context, allegiance is comparative and conditional, indicating that one candidate’s plan is simply more appealing than the others’. Overconsumption and waste aside, it is fine to put signs on your lawn during an election (though no one really needs twenty signs and five bumper stickers!!). What’s different and dangerous is continuing to overtly display candidate-specific allegiance after they assume office. At that point, it is no longer a sign of comparative approval—it is one of unconditional loyalty. Just as a politician’s campaign promises must transition to policies after an election, the electorate must transition from showing support for a platform to holding their elected representatives accountable to that platform. The people are the not-so-secret fourth source of governmental checks and balances, yet today, it seems that the electorate has abandoned this vital obligation to the social contract of democratic regimes.

However, while the more “official” branches of government have robust constitutional mandates that (theoretically) ensure their accountability, most nations don’t have anything comparable for the people themselves. Some democratic governments have tried to promote genuine civic engagement through legislation, such as mandatory voting, compulsory education, protection of independent public media, regulation of misinformation, and restrictions on extremist movements. However, the root of political fanaticism is difficult to rectify institutionally without infringing on political freedom. Real change has to come from us: uprooting the way that we approach politics must be a social movement. This means recognizing harmful behaviors and consciously changing them, some of which are widely accepted even by people who criticize fanaticism in others.

First, we must rely less on name and party recognition when making political decisions by familiarizing ourselves with the policies of a specific candidate and evaluating how they align with our personal values. Further, this reflection should not happen just once–continuous evaluation is not just part of our Sciences Po grades, it should also be central to our relationship with political leaders. The social contract of democracy is not a one-and-done deal, but a dynamic, and necessarily retractable, form of consent.

Second, we must avoid absolute language that labels other worldviews or parties as irredeemable and ignores the ways they may align with our values. This type of rhetoric creates a feedback loop: when people feel ostracized, they often become more radicalized in response. Think of a moderate sports fan who suddenly becomes a loyal superfan when their team is attacked.

Finally, and perhaps most surprisingly for those wishing to be politically engaged, we have to stop expecting ourselves and others to pledge allegiance to certain candidates or parties. This means being able to rescind support for a leader if they no longer represent your values, allowing others to change their opinions without judgment, and instead focusing judgment where it belongs: on those who refuse to reflect on their beliefs.

Following the 2020 election in the US, I was so ecstatic about Trump’s defeat that I begged my Mom for a “Biden Harris” sweatshirt. When I finally got it, I wore it proudly, even put up an (now archived) Instagram post showing it off. But once Biden was inaugurated, I became aware of how people might perceive my outfit in relation to the actions of the president–and it frustrated me that I was unable to explain the nuances of my support. As I grew more attuned to the complexities of American politics, I discovered that even though he was leading the party I was told was progressive, it didn’t mean that this man on my TV screen necessarily represented my values. And so, the sweatshirt fell into disuse, doomed to spend its days in the back of my closet. The day I finally gave it away marked a turning point in my political journey: from then on, I would strive to understand issues beyond just party politics, and become a citizen, not a fan.