Professional football clubs provide spaces for collective self-organization and mobilization. By doing so, they create reservoirs of democratic experience and provide highly accessible entryways into solidarity practices that operate outside the logic of the market. In capitalist societies, such spaces for large groups have nearly disappeared. Therefore, it is worth reflecting on the political potential of football, as Lara Schauland argues in her contribution to the “Deep Democracy” series.
*
“Football offers a tangible utopian potential: the joy of the game awakens a zest for life, and hope is nurtured right up to the final minute – hope that things need not remain as they are, and that the world can indeed be changed.” Detlev Claussen
The issue at stake went beyond the mere distribution of broadcasting revenues in Germany when fans in stadiums threw tennis balls onto the pitch during protests against the DFL’s planned entry of outside investors. The match interruptions, banners in the stands, and clashes between club management, governing bodies, and fans revealed a conflict that has shaped professional football increasingly and openly for years. Who gets to decide the future of football?
Across diverse realities
Few other areas of society unite millions of people in such a lasting sense of collective belonging. The Bundesliga clubs alone boast a combined membership of over one million. Moreover, many of these members organize in fan clubs, ultra groups, grassroots initiatives, and informal networks that remain active beyond individual match days. Thus, football clubs rank among the few remaining mass organizations where people voluntarily participate in a collective project that takes them seriously – both emotionally and politically – across the diverse realities of their lives.
Many of these individuals are socio-political actors, though their actions are often not labeled as such. Their capacity for mobilization, collective identity, and organizational knowledge constitute a rare reservoir of democratic experience. This offers a highly accessible entry point into practices of solidarity operating outside the logic of the market. Added to this is the strong bond of loyalty that fans feel toward their clubs. While political parties are losing members, and many political institutions are perceived as distant, football clubs remain home to countless people who voluntarily organize, navigate conflicts, and make decisions about shared matters.
At the same time, football is imbued with a great deal of symbolic meaning. For many fans, their emotional connection to their club is central to their identity. Democratic changes are therefore experienced not as abstract ideals, but as a form of tangible self-realization. Can this influence spill over into other spheres of society, such as the workplace? In an interview with the Hans Böckler Foundation, sociologist Fabian Fritz notes, “It has been proven that people learn democratic processes within the club. They apply these processes in other areas of social life more frequently than the average citizen.”
More than just a game
Of course, none of this should distract from the fact that today’s professional football is deeply embedded in the capitalist logic of generating profit. Locally rooted clubs have evolved into global brands. Media rights are traded for billions of dollars, investors acquire stakes in clubs, and sponsors shape the public image of entire leagues. The commercialization of football has been extensively documented. From a democratic theory perspective, however, this dynamic raises a different question: Why do demands for democratic participation persist, even in a field so heavily dominated by economic forces?
Part of the answer likely lies in football’s unique characteristics. Unlike typical consumers, fans do not simply switch clubs. A dissatisfied customer cancels their subscription to a streaming service, and an annoyed consumer buys a different product. Football works differently. The emotional bond with a club can last a lifetime. This bond is not based on cost-benefit calculations but on identification, memory, and a sense of belonging.
As early as the 1970s, economist Albert O. Hirschman described three possible reactions to dissatisfaction: exit, voice, or loyalty. People can leave an organization, voice their criticism, or remain loyal to it. In football, these mechanisms interact uniquely. Rather than leaving their club, fans protest and actively push for change. Their loyalty gives rise to dissent. Those who feel the strongest bond with the club are often the ones who voice the loudest criticism.
Against the investor deal
This became particularly evident during the debate over the DFL’s plan to bring in an investor. Many fans criticized the fact that a decision that would fundamentally impact the future of professional football was being made largely without their involvement. Consequently, the protests were not merely directed at a specific deal, but also at the growing trend of prioritizing economic interests over democratic participation. Accordingly, motions were tabled at many clubs’ members’ meetings, instructing executive boards and presidencies to vote against the investor deal.
Similar conflicts have been observed for years. For example, in 2017, the dispute between Hannover 96 club members and CEO Martin Kind escalated into a fundamental debate about the importance of the 50+1 rule and the extent of investor power. Ultimately, debates about spinning off professional divisions, sponsorship contracts, and ticket prices all revolve around the same core issue: Who owns the club and who gets to make decisions about it?
Loyalty as dissent
Although all professional clubs today operate like business enterprises, their structures differ from those of conventional commercial companies. At their core, all professional clubs in Germany must be organized as registered associations (eingetragene Vereine), meaning they have members’ meetings, elected bodies, and democratic procedures. RB Leipzig is an exception, as it has only 24 voting members. These institutions are often limited in scope, sometimes merely symbolic, and frequently fraught with conflict. Nevertheless, they exist and create spaces where people can gain experience with collective self-organization.
Sociologist Erik Olin Wright termed such spaces “real utopias.” They are not meant to be perfect alternative worlds or ready-made blueprints for a better society. Real utopias emerge within existing conditions. They are sites where alternative forms of organization and democratic control are put to the practical test within capitalism. I find them so politically compelling precisely because they do not exist outside of capitalism, but rather arise from its contradictions.
In this sense, professional football clubs can be understood as contradictory real utopias – entities that could realize their utopian potential through the changes Wright envisioned. On the one hand, they are embedded in markets, dependent on media revenues, and shaped by competitive pressures. On the other hand, they possess democratic elements that have long vanished from many other areas of society. While most companies’ employees have little influence on strategic decisions, club members can elect leadership bodies, amend statutes, and pressure executive boards – at least in theory. Most clubs could certainly improve their opportunities for participation and grassroots democracy. Yet, therein lies significant potential.
Danger of romanticization
Of course, it would be naive to spin this into a narrative of football as a democratic alternative model. The reality is often quite different. Power within clubs tends to be concentrated in the hands of a few individuals. General assemblies are often attended by only a fraction of the membership. Economic interests and the pursuit of sporting success influence decision-making. Even in registered associations, it is not uncommon for democratic procedures to be bypassed or reduced to mere formalities.
Furthermore, protests against commercialization are not necessarily emancipatory. Fan cultures are not immune to broader societal trends. Sexist, racist, and authoritarian notions of belonging exist within some of these cultures. Not every movement directed against elites, investors, or commercialization is democratic in an emancipatory sense. Rejecting existing power relations can easily give rise to political projects that are authoritarian as well as progressive.
The history of social movements shows that the ability to mobilize is not a reliable indicator of democratic potential. Those wishing to strengthen democratic counter-power must therefore ask not only whether people are organizing, but also what kind of society they are trying to create. The question should not be whether football clubs are democratic spaces per se. Rather, the crucial question is what forms of democracy can emerge within them and which societal conditions foster or hinder these developments.
Practicing collective self-determination
The political significance of football as a laboratory for societal self-organization lies precisely here. At a time when many people feel they have limited opportunities to influence society, clubs provide a tangible point of reference. Decisions and debates regarding ticket prices, investor entry, and club structures directly affect members’ lived realities. Consequently, democratic participation becomes a concrete practice learned through active engagement.
This does not mean that soccer will overcome capitalism, nor is that my point. Its potential lies elsewhere. Football demonstrates that conflicts over participation, ownership, and collective control can arise even in highly commercialized spheres. It also serves as a reminder that economic decisions are political decisions.
Thus, football becomes a site where key contemporary conflicts converge: between capital and democracy, commercialization and a sense of belonging, and private control and collective self-determination.
These conflicts cannot be easily resolved. They remain contradictory, unresolved, and, above all, contested. Football clubs remind us that democracy is the practice of making collective decisions about shared affairs. Whether this capacity takes on emancipatory forms is an open question. However, without spaces for such experiences, real utopias remain abstract concepts. The democratization of society can only become a genuine possibility where people actively practice collective self-determination.