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Blossom in the East End of Glasgow
Photograph by
Islay McLeod
The shallow rhetoric of
the Olympics has been
designed to fool us
Walter Humes
A passage in a crime novel, ‘A Death in Summer’, made me think of the forthcoming Olympics, that sporting extravaganza that has been simultaneously billed as a triumph for London and a cause for ‘national’ pride.
Although the connection may at first seem a little tenuous, the resonances will soon become clear. The author of the novel, Benjamin Black, is better known as John Banville, a former winner of the Booker prize. He keeps the name Banville for his serious literary fiction but as Benjamin Black he writes beautifully atmospheric mysteries set in Dublin in the 1950s. His central character is called Quirke, a flawed man who finds life difficult but who feels impelled to investigate injustices. In one scene he is enjoying a quiet Sunday morning, sitting alongside a canal reading the newspapers, when he is joined by a sinister character called Costigan, who acts as a fixer for powerful people, arranging to carry out their dirty work. He has been sent to issue a warning to Quirke.
Costigan starts mildly enough: ‘I was just thinking, walking along here this lovely morning in the sunshine, how different things are from the way they seem. Take the canal, there. Smooth as glass, with those ducks or whatever they are, and the reflection of that white cloud, and the midges going up and down like the bubbles in a bottle of soda water – a picture of peace and tranquillity, you’d say’.
But the tone changes as he continues: ‘But think what’s going on underneath the surface, the big fish eating the little ones, and the bugs on the bottom fighting over the bits that float down, and everything covered in slime and mud. You might say that’s how the world is. You might say, in fact, that there are two distinct worlds, the world where everything seems grand and straightforward and simple – that’s the world that the majority of people live in, or at least imagine they live in – and then there’s the real world, where the real things go on’.
On the surface, the Olympics are a fine sporting occasion – a festival celebrating effort and achievement, an opportunity for national celebration, perhaps an exciting day out for the family. I am sure I, along with many others, will enjoy watching some of the events on television: in my case, particularly athletics, swimming, diving and gymnastics. I will be less interested in the purely ceremonial events – the relay carrying the torch to London, the opening and closing ceremonies – but I am happy to acknowledge that these will bring pleasure to those who take part and to many of those watching.
Much more serious is the fact that the Olympics are no longer principally sporting games. They are corporate games, with lots of money to be
made for a few.
However, there are other aspects of the Olympics that I will not enjoy. We have already had endless publicity puffs about the event on the BBC and I strongly suspect that when it actually starts the antics of commentators and presenters will be a major source of annoyance. Their hype and boasting, their forensic examination of every British success and failure, will grate after a very short time. But these are just minor irritations.
Much more serious is the fact that the Olympics are no longer principally sporting games. They are corporate games, with lots of money to be made for a few. We know a little about some of the contracts being awarded to companies with dodgy records in terms of their business practices. People attending events will not be allowed to take in their own food and drink: they will have to buy from those who have acquired catering concessions, no doubt at inflated prices. Relatives of competitors have only been allowed two tickets for events. Many families of successful sportsmen and women make considerable sacrifices in order to support their sons or daughters. I wonder what they will think when they see the best seats reserved for celebrities and corporate backers.
Then there is the so-called ‘legacy’ for the East End of London. No doubt the developers of the various venues and the accommodation for the athletes will do very nicely, but evidence from previous games suggests that the benefits for local communities are likely to be rather limited. By the time the real legacy becomes clear, the money men will have moved on to new pickings.
In order to meet artificially-created social and economic expectations, the modern Olympics depend on shady networks involving investors, developers, politicians, advertisers, global media companies and public relations firms. They will be the real beneficiaries: for the most part, they will be content to remain in the background, though politicians will doubtless attempt to claim any credit that is going. Meanwhile, the amount taxpayers have contributed to subsidise the whole enterprise will be subject to some very creative accounting.
So, to return to the Benjamin Black novel, on the surface the Olympics will be presented as a national triumph, a great success for Lord Coe and his team of helpers. But what is going on beneath the surface, obscured by the mud and slime, is actually much more significant. The contrast serves as a symbol of much that is wrong with the country – the pervasiveness of shallow rhetoric designed to fool the public, and the gradual erosion of any sense of what is right by the greed and self-interest of corporate culture. The barbarians are not just at the gate: they are in charge and calling the shots.
