I was listening to the radio the other day and learned something new. However I’m not sure I like it. At least not all of it.

Joey Cheek, a speed skater who two years ago became an Olympic gold-medal winner, was talking to “Talk of the Nation” host Neal Conan about how he gave his $25,000 prize money to Darfur refugees in the hope of calling attention to their plight. He said that he was praised for this—and rightly so. Not many Olympic athletes have that much money, and if they did, they’d likely keep it. Most people were impressed with Cheek’s generosity.

But when Cheek started using his new celebrity to talk about Darfur’s terrible refugee situation and the war that’s causing it, he was roundly criticized for “politicizing” the Olympics.

I’ve got news for his critics. The Olympic games are about the world, and the last time I looked, the world is a political place. You can hardly talk about any situation anywhere on this globe that politics doesn’t come into play.

And if one is gifted enough to actually be a true celebrity (as opposed to people who are famous for being famous), one should use that spotlight for good. John Lennon was “just a celebrity” until he met Yoko Ono, who persuaded him that because the whole world was looking at him, he might as well use his celebrity to send a message to the world. Which is where we got “Give Peace a Chance” and more.

Recently Notre Dame University awarded its famed Laetare Medal to activist-actor Martin Sheen. For 125 years, the medal has gone to Catholics “whose genius has ennobled the arts and sciences, illustrated the ideals of the church and enriched the heritage of humanity.” So using your fame to speak out sometimes even gets rewarded.

Back to “Talk of the Nation.” Other guests on the show reminded listeners that the Olympics have long been a venue to political statements, even though Rule 51 of the Olympic Charter clearly states the following: “No kind of demonstration promoting political, religious or racial propaganda is permitted in any Olympic sites, venues, and other areas.”

One of the first times that rule was broken was in 1936, when Hitler and the Nazis tried to use the Olympics to showcase Aryan superiority. Photos of the Berlin games show swastikas plastered across everything in sight. As most of us know, Jesse Owens, an African-American, became a hero during those games by taking four gold medals in track and field events. Hitler refused to shake Owens’ hand—but then, President Roosevelt snubbed him, too.

In 1968, when the civil rights movement was literally and figuratively setting our country on fire, track-and-field athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos, who took gold and bronze respectively, raised their fists in the famous Black Power salute as they stood on the podium. Criticism for that was pretty hot, too. But when people told Smith that he should have waited until he got home to make his statement, he responded, “When? And where?” Smith and Carlos said they simply made their gestures when they knew the world was watching.

Anita DeFrantz, who received her Bronze Medal for rowing in the 1976 games, told Conan that she saw herself as a victim of a political statement when President Jimmy Carter boycotted the 1980 Moscow Olympics in protest of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. And she wasn’t the only one. Many athletes called into the program that day to say how much they regretted that all their training went for naught, and that all their hopes were dashed.

Perhaps rather than not allowing athletes to participate, Carter could have simply made a strongly worded statement and let it go at that. But that was then and this is now. And what is happening now?

Filmmaker Steven Spielberg has pulled out of his role as artistic director for the 2008 games in Beijing in protest against China’s strong ties to Sudan, China’s key oil supplier. Should he have done that? Does anybody care?

Abraham Lincoln struggled with a similar dilemma. When he talked about slavery in church, critics told him it was a political issue. When he talked about it on the stump, they said it was a religious issue. “Where then,” he asked, frustrated, “shall I talk about it?”

I’m on Spielberg and Joey Cheek’s side. I’ll close with the words of another famous activist, Brazilian Archbishop Don Helder Camaro, who died nine years ago. He said, “When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why they are poor, they call me a communist.”

Spielberg and Cheek are neither saints nor communists. They are simply following their consciences—and I applaud them.