Mbappé Meets His Match

F rench soccer superstar Kylian Mbappé has conquered many of the world’s toughest defenses. But he met his match in the Chinese Communist Party — and the formidable combination of state power, corporate money, and nationalist outrage behind it.

In a circulating video clip, he appeared to refer to Mao Zedong as a “Chinese dictator.” China’s response was swift. State television reportedly stopped airing his matches and removed his advertisements. Three Chinese sponsors severed ties. State media denounced him, and China’s Foreign Ministry warned that remarks offending Chinese people would meet collective resistance. Mbappé apologized. Even Real Madrid, the club for which Mbappé plays, and Spain’s La Liga sports league joined the apologies.

The larger issue is how China’s authoritarian state, commercial interests, and mobilized nationalism can reinforce one another to influence what people in free societies dare to say. When political power determines the risks of doing business, corporations learn to anticipate its wishes. Nationalist outrage adds pressure, amplified by state media. Together, they can accomplish what direct censorship cannot easily achieve abroad.

China’s most effective censorship abroad operates through money. An athlete loses sponsors. A movie studio loses access to theaters. A company risks losing customers. No one needs to prove Mao was not a dictator. They only need to make saying so expensive enough that others learn to keep quiet.

The Mbappé saga joins a long list of similar outrages. For example, in 2019, Houston Rockets general manager Daryl Morey tweeted, “Fight for Freedom. Stand with Hong Kong.” Chinese broadcasters and sponsors retaliated against the NBA. LeBron James criticized Morey as misinformed. The league faced enormous financial pressure. A league whose stars regularly speak about American social issues suddenly found itself calculating the price of free expression in China.

The pattern extends beyond sports. Hollywood studios have faced pressure to alter content for Chinese distribution. Marriott fired an employee in 2018 after its social media account liked a post about Tibet. The industries vary, but the calculations are similar: Offending China’s political sensitivities may cost money.

And for every celebrity publicly pressured, how many athletes, executives, filmmakers, and young professionals have quietly decided certain subjects are better left alone? How many have learned that some historical truths are simply bad for business? This is how authoritarian power and commercial incentives can combine to distort historical memory. Truth is not necessarily defeated in argument. It is gradually priced out of public conversation.

Here is a lesson Americans who value free enterprise should take seriously: Free markets do not automatically produce free people. Markets generate prosperity, but businesses respond to incentives. When access to an authoritarian market depends on political obedience, commercial institutions can become instruments of censorship.

But solidarity changes the economic calculation. Sports leagues, players’ unions, entertainment companies, universities, and professional associations should establish common protections for lawful expression. When political pressure targets one individual, institutions should not abandon that person to protect their contracts. Beijing can more easily punish a lone athlete than an entire league willing to stand together against such pressure.

Sunlight can change it, too. Companies should disclose when foreign government demands influence decisions to censor content, dismiss employees, or alter public statements. Political coercion works best when its fingerprints remain hidden.

Economic independence is equally important. Engagement with China can bring legitimate benefits, but excessive dependence creates vulnerability. The less a company relies on any single authoritarian market, the more freedom it retains to make independent decisions.

Consumers and sponsors also have a role. Athletes, artists, and employees who defend fundamental freedoms should not have to absorb the costs alone. Fans can support them, companies can hire them, and organizations can honor their integrity. Courage becomes more sustainable when society rewards it rather than merely applauding it after the damage is done.

Above all, consistency matters. Free speech cannot be a partisan convenience. The principles we demand of athletes and Hollywood stars must also apply to politicians, corporations, donors, and organizations we admire.

We should not expect every 27-year-old soccer player to become a human-rights hero. The greater responsibility belongs to institutions that profit from freedom but sometimes leave individuals to defend it alone.

For the next generation of American leaders, the question is intensely practical. Someday, you may run a company, lead an organization, or hold public office. Someone powerful may offer you a bargain: Remain silent about something true, and keep your money, position, or influence. Decide what you will do before that moment arrives. Better yet, build institutions in which doing the right thing does not require becoming a martyr.

China’s state power, money, and nationalism can put a price on truth. But they cannot buy our silence unless we agree to sell it.

Paul Glader is the director of Leadership Programs at Advancing American Freedom. Jianli Yang is a distinguished visiting fellow at Center for the National Interest and a columnist for National Review.