Following the May takeover of PSKC Cimahi by its main sponsors, Garudayaksa Football Academy—a youth football institution founded by Indonesia’s current president, Prabowo Subianto—all eyes are now on the newly rebranded Garudayaksa FC. The club is poised to become the latest example of a professional team backed—either directly or indirectly—by a ruling regime.
Football clubs supported by heads of state, political regimes, or government institutions are far from novel. Some display their affiliations openly, such as Bhayangkara Presisi Lampung (the Indonesian police), Immigration FC (Malaysia’s immigration department), Navy FC (Thai Navy), or MS ABDB (Brunei’s armed forces). Others—like CSKA and Dinamo, clubs born from Soviet-era institutions—retain their state-linked heritage while gradually evolving into more independent entities.
Then there are clubs with more subtle, though no less influential, political ties.
Take FK Arkadag, newly crowned AFC Challenge League champions. Officially owned by the Arkadag City Administration and led by former Turkmenistan international Arslanmyrat Amanow, the club is widely seen as a vehicle for the Berdimuhamedow family. Former president Gurbanguly and his son, current leader Serdar, are believed to have used their political clout to elevate Arkadag into a domestic and regional force—despite the club being founded only recently.
A similar narrative unfolded in Turkey under President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Through his ruling AKP party, Erdoğan oversaw the transformation of Istanbul Büyükşehir Belediyespor into İstanbul Başakşehir—relocating the team to the Başakşehir district (home to AKP headquarters) and handing over club leadership to close ally Göksel Gümüşdağ. While Erdoğan maintained a formal distance, companies aligned with his administration provided key sponsorship and infrastructure support, including the construction of the Başakşehir Fatih Terim Stadium. Erdoğan was named club patron, and the number 12 jersey was retired in his honor. Under this politically charged backing, Başakşehir rose swiftly and broke the traditional Istanbul “Big Three” monopoly by winning the Süper Lig in 2019/20.
Meanwhile, Hungary’s Puskás Akadémia maintains a deeply entrenched relationship with Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, who has invested millions into the club since its 2007 rebranding from Felcsút FC. Located in the small village of Felcsút—just 35 minutes from Budapest—the club is essentially a physical extension of Orbán’s lifelong passion for football. Though Felcsút has no historical connection to Ferenc Puskás, Hungary’s most iconic footballer, Orbán ensured that the club would bear his name and house tributes to his legacy.
The club’s home ground, Pancho Aréna—completed in 2014—stands within sight of Orbán’s childhood home. Its architecture, resembling a blend of cathedral and modern stadium, was funded through a combination of state subsidies, redirected taxes, and sponsorships, all funneled through the club and its foundation. Despite such extensive funding, community support remains minimal. The stadium’s capacity is double that of Felcsút’s population, and its average attendance of around 1,500 is largely sustained by away fans.
Orbán’s influence on Hungarian football reaches beyond Felcsút. Over the past decade, his government has directed substantial funds to clubs across Hungary. Key political allies helm many of these clubs: András Tállai, Secretary of State for Parliamentary Affairs and Taxation, is president of Mezőkövesd, while Gábor Kubatov, vice president of Fidesz, leads Ferencváros, Hungary’s most prominent club. Orbán’s close associate, business magnate Lőrinc Mészáros, is also a major backer of Puskás Akadémia.
In fact, Orbán’s football ambitions have crossed borders. State support has extended to clubs in regions with Hungarian minorities, including Sepsi OSK and Csíkszereda in Romania, FK TSC Bačka Topola in Serbia, DAC Dunajská Streda in Slovakia, and NK Osijek in Croatia.
Unlike regime-affiliated clubs such as Arkadag or Başakşehir that focus on buying ready-made stars, Orbán’s project emphasizes homegrown talent. Youth development is central to Puskás Akadémia’s philosophy. During the 2024/25 season, academy graduates made 118 appearances in senior matches, and the club’s youth teams have started to dominate Hungary’s junior leagues. The goal, clearly, is to cement both footballing success and political legacy.
It’s in this global context that Garudayaksa FC begins to take shape as Indonesia’s answer to the Puskás model. Much like Orbán’s vision in Felcsút, Prabowo’s Garudayaksa Football Academy is not merely a football school—it is a symbolic institution with nationalist undertones and ambitions that extend well beyond the pitch.
Though new to the professional arena, Garudayaksa FC represents the culmination of years of groundwork laid under Prabowo’s leadership, including the establishment of training infrastructure, the staging of youth competitions, and the recruitment of talent from across the country. Backed by substantial political capital and now competing in Liga 2, the club appears set to rise as a key player in Indonesian football—whether through organic growth or orchestrated support.
The club’s identity is deeply interwoven with its founder. Based in Bekasi Regency, West Java, the name “Garudayaksa” reflects both Prabowo’s political volunteer network and his military background. This alignment with nationalist imagery and youth empowerment fits neatly into his broader political messaging—one centered on discipline, patriotism, and generational renewal.
Analysts have already highlighted the club’s potential to serve as a feeder for national team talent, particularly if it maintains its developmental focus. If successful, Garudayaksa FC could not only realize Prabowo’s long-standing vision of elevating Indonesian football, but also solidify its place as a legacy project of his presidency—just as Puskás Akadémia has become inseparable from Orbán’s political story.
Yet, as the examples from Hungary and elsewhere reveal, the fusion of politics and football is fraught with complexity. While state support can fast-track success, it often comes with concerns over transparency, favoritism, and politicization. Garudayaksa FC’s real test will be whether it can win authentic grassroots support, develop talent sustainably, and compete fairly—rather than leaning solely on proximity to power.
In a nation where politically affiliated clubs have often sparked skepticism, Garudayaksa FC’s trajectory will be watched closely—not just as a footballing experiment, but as a microcosm of how sport, ambition, and political legacy intertwine in modern Indonesia.