top of page

No Neutral Handshake: Legitimizing the Islamic Republic Regime Through Sport

Writer: Armita Dadmehr
Armita Dadmehr
Jun 8
2 min read
The international sports arena has long been presented as a neutral ground, a space where competition transcends politics and athletes meet one another beyond the divisions of governments and ideology. Yet neutrality becomes increasingly difficult to sustain when states themselves seek to transform sporting institutions into instruments of political legitimacy. In such circumstances, the symbolism surrounding the field often carries consequences far beyond the match itself.

The international sports arena is often described as neutral ground, a place where athletes compete beyond politics and nations meet through the language of sport. That assumption no longer survives contact with reality when authoritarian regimes deliberately transform international sporting institutions into instruments of political legitimacy.


For decades, the ruling authorities in Iran have understood the value of international visibility. Sporting events provide something no state media campaign can fully replicate: the appearance of normalcy. Images of competition, ceremonies, handshakes, and mutual respect are carefully incorporated into a narrative intended to communicate stability, legitimacy, and acceptance. The message is simple: everything is normal, the world accepts us, and the crisis is over.


Many observers describe this phenomenon as a form of sports propaganda employed by the Islamic Republic regime, using international sporting events to project legitimacy and normalcy abroad while obscuring realities inside the country from international audiences.

The central issue is not sport itself. It is representation. Millions of Iranians reject the claim that official state delegations represent the will, aspirations, or political voice of the Iranian people. Years of repression, arrests, censorship, violence, and political persecution have created a widening divide between the Iranian nation and the institutions that claim to govern it. Every attempt to erase that distinction serves the interests of power rather than truth.


Under such conditions, symbolic gestures cannot be dismissed as harmless protocol. A staged photograph, a ceremonial embrace, or a public handshake is not merely a personal interaction between individuals. These images are recorded, distributed, and repurposed as evidence of international acceptance. They become political assets in a broader campaign to manufacture legitimacy.


This is why a handshake is no longer just a handshake.


When representatives of democratic institutions, international federations, or national teams publicly embrace the symbols of an authoritarian system, they contribute whether intentionally or not to the normalization of that system's conduct. The gesture becomes part of a narrative that seeks to separate power from accountability and legitimacy from consent.

This statement is not a call to abandon competition. It is not a call to reject athletes as individuals. It is a call to recognize the political consequences of symbolic acts. Respect for sport does not require participation in propaganda. Professional competition does not require the public validation of political authority.

The distinction matters.

Athletes may compete. Federations may organize tournaments. Nations may meet on the field. But no one should be compelled to participate in the construction of a false image designed to obscure repression behind ceremonies, uniforms, and carefully managed symbolism.

The choice ultimately belongs to every athlete, official, journalist, and institution that steps onto the international stage. Yet history demonstrates that neutrality becomes impossible when symbols are deliberately weaponized. In such moments, silence communicates, gestures communicate, and handshakes communicate.

The question is therefore not whether these actions carry meaning.

The question is what message they choose to send.

join our mailing list

© 2025 by THE COUNT MAGAZINE

bottom of page