In this month’s Harper’s Bazaar, the Queen told all ‘activist’ actors bent on sharing their armchair political opinions with the world to ‘shut up’. Of course, these unregal words weren’t Queen Camilla‘s, but came from the mouth of Claire Foy, the actress who played a young Elizabeth II in The Crown. And it was glorious to hear an entertainer honouring their trade above all else.
‘What I believe and who I am and where I stand on things is constantly in flux,’ she said, ‘as much as it is for everyone else, and I have absolutely no authority to discuss or proclaim about anything other than what I do as an actor. If you’re just making noise for the sake of it, then you should probably shut up – so I tend to shut up.’
This brings me to Gary Lineker, who is an expert in whinnying, so much so that sometimes I feel I know him better than he knows himself.
In an interview with The London Standard last month, he insisted that in his 30 years working for the BBC ‘I didn’t ever give my political views; never, ever said who I vote for, ever, because I know where the boundaries are’.
I think we know perfectly well where his political sympathies lie. Let’s not forget that this is the man who last year reposted to Instagram a video on Zionism adorned with an image of a cartoon rat.
His subsequent apology couldn’t calm the storm that ultimately ended in his defenestration from the BBC.
But it seems that promoting an image, which is long code for the infection antisemites think Jews are, no longer precludes a man from sharing his moronic moral philosophy as widely as possible.
Collecting a presenter of the year trophy at the National TV Awards last year, he suggested he would continue to speak up for the voiceless, though what exactly he has done for the voiceless – excepting footballers, who we expect to be voiceless – is unclear.
Actress Claire Foy in the Netflix show ‘The Crown’ with actor Matt Smith behind her on the right
Gary Lineker pictured taking part in The Rest Is Football show on December 18, 2024
And get used to hearing more of Gary’s man-of-the-people (just-richer) schtick, as this is a World Cup year, and he has a football deal with Netflix to push. It’s not just Lineker, of course, who will continue to show us the way of righteousness in 2026, whether we ask for it or not.
Too many entertainers wade in serious ponds nowadays and, with their very presence, make them unserious – as if politics and suffering are just arms of the entertainment industry, to be treated as such. With unseriousness.
It’s part of the decadence – the lack of expertise and humility, the self-aggrandisement – of the age, but Lineker has more in common with Donald Trump than either would like to admit. Both are showmen with dreams of more.
If Lineker knew anything about anti-Semitism – or immigration, or social mobility, or the philosopher Kierkegaard – it would be a fine thing to hear him on it.
But his interest looks like a continuation not of his knowledge, which is negligible, but his vanity, which is ferocious.
It is no longer enough, it seems, to be known for what you are good at: in his case, chatting about football. You must be sanctified while doing it. It’s almost as if he was never loved enough.
Long gone are the days when a reporter asked Elvis Presley about anti-Vietnam protests and he replied: ‘Honey, I just seem to keep my own personal views about that to myself because I’m just an entertainer.’
It used to be that only obvious loons – Roger Waters of Pink Floyd (Palestine), John Lennon of The Beatles (non-specified peace), Marlon Brando (native Americans) – fell to performative activism to make themselves feel more interesting or serious. Now almost everyone does it or, to quote Sacha Baron Cohen as his satirical creation Bruno, ‘Clooney’s got Darfur, Sting’s got the Amazon and Bono’s got AIDS!’
Gary Lineker during the Premier League match between Crystal Palace and Manchester United at Selhurst Park on November 30, 2025
Most large charities have celebrity liaison officers now, possibly because they think people are too insensible to care about something unless a big face they have seen on TV, film or at a concert is attached to it. The results are gruesome.
I have still not got over the spectacle of Angelina Jolie (Maleficent) and William Hague, (then foreign secretary) trying to end rape in war and that was in 2014. They didn’t end rape in war, but you know that.
Last week, Jolie appeared at the Rafah crossing to Gaza to fail to bring peace to the Middle East.
After #MeToo, celebrities co-opted activists and would appear with them on red carpets, like in-laws who had never met before and who, given the choice, never would again. We have Cynthia Nixon of Sex And The City (Palestine and Trans rights), Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson of Harry Potter (Trans rights) and John Cleese of Monty Python (Palestine): they tend to cleave to fashionable causes.
Celebrity activism is so obviously an instrument of vanity – an emotional, rather than political imperative, more to do with the activist than the cause.
This was amply demonstrated by the celebrities who went all out for Kamala Harris in the 2024 American presidential campaign. She was endorsed by Taylor Swift, Beyonce, Oprah Winfrey and Bruce Springsteen. Harris still lost, and pollsters said the endorsements actively harmed her.
In Ohio, 24 per cent of voters said Swift’s support made them like Harris less.
That’s not good news for the aggrieved the celebrities claim to speak for, but perhaps they are too rich to care.