Indigenous Peoples' Day | Exclusion and appropriation: colonial history in contemporary sport

One of the most important football clubs in Latin America plays its home games at the Estadio Monumental in Santiago de Chile . On the way to the main stand, you pass a black bust. It is said to represent the upper body of the man after whom the club is named. This figure can also be found on the exterior walls and in the club museum, for example, on the four-pointed crest. It depicts a man with long black hair and a white headband: Colo Colo.

The fans of the Chilean record champions look with pride to their namesake, a 16th-century indigenous leader who had long repelled Spanish colonial power. Colo Colo was considered courageous, steadfast, and prudent. And so, in 1925, a group of Chilean teachers chose that figure to imbue their new club with meaning. "For generations, sports clubs have used caricatures of indigenous people for their logos and mascots," says Chilean researcher Daniela Bustamante, who studies her country's colonial history. "But in Colo Colo's case, he was a specific figure from contemporary history. This is a prime example of cultural appropriation ."

Denied identity

Colo-Colo rose to become the most successful club in Chile in the 20th century, having won 34 championships and 14 cups. At the same time, successive governments deepened the marginalization of the Mapuche, the largest indigenous minority in the country. Their land in the south was repeatedly expropriated for industrial development or transferred to European settlers. "Many Mapuche denied their identity and adopted Spanish-sounding surnames," says Chilean author and podcaster Alvaro Campos. In the 1980s, Alfonso Neculñir was considered the first player with Mapuche roots at Colo-Colo. Today, Mapuche are disproportionately affected by unemployment, poverty, and alcoholism.

On August 9, the United Nations annually celebrates the International Day of the World's Indigenous Peoples . It is an opportunity to highlight the achievements of indigenous minorities, but also to address their problems. The UN refers to its Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. Among other things, it emphasizes the fundamental importance of the consent of those affected for the use of their images.

No consent

Such consent, however, is rare in Latin America. Some football clubs there have named themselves after the Guaraní. Members of this minority live in Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay, and Bolivia. In the early 20th century, the Guaraní had a large portion of their land stolen. "They are one of the most endangered indigenous groups in the world," writes the Brazilian non-governmental organization Cimi. At Guarani FC in the state of São Paulo, no mention is made of this. And in Paraguay, there is no discussion of cultural appropriation at the eleven-time national champions, Club Guarani.

One might get the impression that the topic only plays a role in former colonies like Chile or Brazil, but that would be an oversimplification. In Great Britain, the Exeter Chiefs rugby team long featured a drawing of an indigenous leader with a hair ornament in its logo. Local fans signed a petition against this. After much hesitation, the club agreed to a change and now alludes to the Celtic tribe of Dumnonians, who settled in the southwest of present-day Britain more than 2,000 years ago, in its logo.

Even in the former colonial power of Belgium, images of indigenous leaders can still be found in sports today, for example at KAA Gent. The football club dedicates a separate section on its website to the oppression of Native Americans. This section also explains the logo, which it says has a positive "cultural context." KAA Gent stands for "respect, courage, and honor," values that are more commonly attributed to Native Americans than to their "white oppressors."

Stigmatization

The debate is loudest in the USA . Several hundred sports teams in professional leagues, universities, and schools there have called themselves "Indians," "Red Men," or "Warriors." Their emblems depicted Indigenous men with oversized lips, red skin, and feathered headdresses. "Young people of Indigenous descent feel stigmatized and dehumanized by this," says Rebecca Nagle, an activist for the Indigenous Cherokee people. "And unfortunately, there is rarely a counter-narrative. The current daily lives of Indigenous people are rarely portrayed in the media or films."

Since the civil rights movement in the 1960s, repeated protests have erupted in the United States. According to the National Congress of American Indians, almost three-quarters of the approximately 2,000 racist sports symbols have been abandoned over time. Exotic dances by cheerleaders and face paint by stadium musicians also gradually disappeared. Awareness campaigns mostly came from indigenous groups, almost never from the clubs.

Black Lives Matter

Following the murder of George Floyd in 2020 and the Black Lives Matter movement, more and more prominent clubs came under pressure. In Cleveland, the baseball team "Indians" has called itself the Guardians since 2021. In Washington, the former "Redskins" have been called "Commanders" since 2022. But many fans felt cheated of their tradition. Recently, US President Donald Trump demanded that the club return to the name "Redskins," saying otherwise he would block the construction of a stadium. Many of his supporters cheered.

In Chile, there is no such debate. And so the appropriation of the most famous football club has been part of everyday life for generations. The right-wing nationalist entrepreneur Sebastián Piñera, for example, owned Colo-Colo between 2006 and 2010. He met representatives from politics and business in the VIP box. Piñera was later elected president of Chile twice. During this time, human rights organizations report, arrests and controls of the Mapuche increased dramatically.

No majority

But the pendulum is also swinging in the other direction. In 2019, hundreds of thousands of people protested in Santiago against Piñera's government and high living costs. "The rights of the Mapuche were also intensely discussed at the time," says indigenous author Claudio Alvarado Lincopi: "And many Colo-Colo fans participated in the demonstrations." Following the protests, a popular assembly in Chile was to draft a new constitution. A progressive draft emerged: Indigenous groups like the Mapuche, who were not even mentioned in the old constitution from the military dictatorship, were to be granted special rights, such as the right to autonomy and the promotion of their traditions.

Many Colo-Colo supporters championed this progressive draft. The club displays the Mapuche flag in its stadium and partially uses their traditional language. One message: "Defend our jersey as the Mapuche defend their land." Is this a political fan culture? Or are centuries of oppression being trivialized? These questions are still being discussed timidly. Incidentally, the new draft constitution was clearly rejected by a majority of the population.