Watching the 2026 Olympics Can Offer PR Lessons in Sportswashing
The Oxford English Dictionary defines “sportswashing” as the use of sport or sporting events to promote a positive public image for a sponsor or host, often to distract from activities that are controversial, unethical or illegal. While the term itself is relatively new, the practice is not.
Sportswashing is most commonly associated today with Saudi Arabia’s aggressive investment in global sports, from golf and soccer to Formula One and boxing, and its upcoming role as host of the 2034 FIFA World Cup. But long before the term entered the lexicon, governments and institutions were using major sporting events to burnish reputations and mute criticism.
The Olympics offer some of the clearest historical examples. From Berlin in the 1930s to Mexico City, Moscow, Beijing and Sochi, authoritarian regimes have repeatedly used the Games as a global stage to project legitimacy, aided by an International Olympic Committee often willing to look the other way. In retrospect, the most egregious case remains the decision to allow Nazi Germany to host both the Summer and Winter Olympics, giving Adolf Hitler his first truly global platform.
Sportswashing is typically framed as a foreign phenomenon, but American sports leagues and team owners have long employed similar tactics, even if they are rarely labeled as such. From carefully choreographed displays of patriotism later revealed to be paid for by the Pentagon, to years of downplaying the link between concussions and long-term brain damage, leagues have often used messaging, access control and emotional appeals to shape public perception and deflect scrutiny.
More recently, the NBA’s return to China illustrates how sportswashing operates in real time. When the league resumed games in Macau after a years-long freeze sparked by a tweet supporting Hong Kong’s democracy movement, it was not just about basketball. It was about repairing commercial relationships and restoring access to a massive market, even as questions about human rights and free expression lingered in the background. The backlash that followed showed how quickly reputation risks surface when audiences perceive values being compromised for profit.
For PR professionals, these examples underscore an uncomfortable truth. Sportswashing is not confined to sports, nor is it limited to authoritarian regimes. It is a set of communications techniques designed to redirect attention, soften narratives and generate goodwill, often through emotionally powerful platforms like sports, entertainment or community engagement.
This matters as NBC Universal ramps up coverage of the 2026 Winter Olympics in Milan and Cortina d’Ampezzo. Olympic broadcasts will almost certainly celebrate athletic achievement, unity and spectacle. Other outlets will focus on cost overruns, political tensions and social impact. The contrast offers communications professionals a real-time case study in how narrative framing works and how selective storytelling shapes perception.
The lesson is not that sportswashing is inherently good or bad. It is that it exists, it works, and it carries risk. Audiences are more skeptical than ever. When messaging feels manipulative or incomplete, credibility erodes quickly. For communicators, the challenge is knowing when positive storytelling crosses the line into distraction, and understanding how transparency, context and timing affect trust.
PR practitioners would be wise to watch the Olympics with a critical eye, not just as fans, but as students of narrative power. One day, the techniques on display may be applied to a corporate crisis, a regulatory issue or a reputational challenge far removed from sports. The question will be whether they are used responsibly, or in ways that ultimately make matters worse.
As history shows, sportswashing can generate short-term goodwill. But when the truth emerges, the long-term damage to trust can outweigh any temporary reputational gain.
