They have always have intertwined in one way or another - from Hitler refusing toshake Jesse Owens’ hand in 1936, to the USA boycotting the Moscow Olympics in 1980 and the Russians in return refusing to go to Los Angeles; to the Springboks tour in 1981, to politicians from all sides of the aisle turning up at major sports events, hoping to be seen.
Former Prime Minister Sir John Key told the Herald last year that when he was in office, he cultivated a relationship with the All Blacks, because of the value of the association and the political capital it bought him.
“I don’t know if you would sit there and say it was [a] cold, calculated decision I made that if I had my picture taken sitting next to Richie McCaw, it would be good for me and I would get lots of votes,” he said.
“It wasn’t as cynical as that. But was it helpful that there would be pictures of me in the changing rooms or that I was associated with them? The answer is yes.”
So too have athletes made political protests throughout history: from Tommie Smith and John Carlos giving their Black Power salute in 1968, to NFL players taking the knee and David Kirk refusing to tour with the rebel Cavaliers to South Africa in 1986.
Protests and politics have been part of the sporting landscape forever and so the debate about whether the Hurricanes Poua had a right to modify their haka to reflect their collective view of the current Government, and whether Ruby Tui and Arihiana Marino-Tauhinu should have boycotted the Chiefs Manawa haka, is all largely missing the point.
Players have freedom of speech and freedom of expression, but they have to accept that if they choose to use their profile and that of the teams they represent to demonstrate their position, there will almost certainly be consequences to their actions.
Kirk was shunned by All Blacks teammates who played for the Cavaliers, while in 2022, Netball Australia lost a $15 million sponsorship with Hancock Prospecting when the Diamonds protested about it.
The decision by the Poua to politicise their haka was always going to come with consequences, because professional sport operates on the principle that teams will respect the delicate balance of the ecosystem in which they exist.
Professional athletes need to recognise they have the ability to protest, but that is not quite the same thing as having the right to protest.
Whether players like it or not, they operate in a system that requires them to understand the values and sensibilities of all the stakeholders - but particularly those of sponsors and broadcasters, as they are the two groups who put the most butter on the bread.
The Chiefs Manawa. Photo / Photosport
Professional sport is a business and commercial interests are all-powerful.
Everyone can debate whether this is a good thing or bad thing for sport, but it is most certainly a thing - and sponsors buy in on the certainty that they have aligned values with the teams with which they work.
They also buy in on the basis there will be no surprises, that environments will be stable and consistent and again, there is no dispute that it is a cultural right to use haka to express views, but equally, teams who choose to do that need to understand that sponsors may not share their cultural background.
It was, therefore, naïve of the Poua to blindside even their own employer with a haka amendment for which they had not sought institutional approval.
Naïve because it appears as if there may have been a failure to understand that their actions and the subsequent media coverage about the various reactions it has created will have left the Hurricanes’ portfolio of sponsors more than a little uneasy.
Worse, it will probably have deterred other companies from putting their money into women’s rugby, because sponsors don’t like controversy and they particularly don’t like the idea that a team, or individual players, may overtly protest about something that compromises the sponsorship.
Imagine the predicament in which the All Blacks would find themselves if they protested about the Government’s lack of environmental policies while wearing the logo of petrochemical company Ineos on their shorts?
Or what if they called for a sugar tax on fizzy drinks, knowing that the Pepsico-owned Gatorade is a sponsor?
This is the problem with political protests - they can so readily put players in conflict with key commercial backers, and while women’s rugby is trying to sell itself as a sport with big personalities who freely and openly express themselves, there still needs to be an appreciation of how big and free these personalities can be before they jeopardise investments.
There is an understandable frustration within the game that Super Rugby Aupiki has not been able to expand since its inception.
The audiences haven’t stayed at the levels they were at during the 2022 World Cup and as a result, the money hasn’t flowed in to support the hoped-for growth.
But players can’t bemoan the lack of commercial interest and then unilaterally perform a politically-charged haka.
The two are inextricably linked and however passionately the Poua dislike and object to the coalition Government, professionalism requires players to recognise the confines of their workplace and the consequences of their actions so that commercial backers have confidence in the product they are buying.
The money wheel spins on trust - and history has shown that rogue elements or bad actors pay a price if they embarrass sponsors, express views contrary to the values of an investor or disgrace themselves in a way that damages their ability to be a credible ambassador for a particular brand.
These are the rules of business, the rules of life almost, and this first cohort of Aupiki players will find that if they want to be political activists, they will likely never win the financial support required to expand the competition and become fulltime professionals.
Gregor Paul is one of New Zealand’s most respected rugby writers and columnists. He has won multiple awards for journalism and has written several books about sport.
