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June 2011

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Lording it: London and the getting of the Games

[This entry comprises extracts from the beginning and the end of the first chapter of Alan Tomlinson and John Sugden (eds), Watching the Olympics: Politics, Power, and Representation (Routledge, publication July 2011)] [i]

Introduction

In 2012 London will become the only city to have staged the Summer Olympic Games more than twice (the so-called interim Games in Athens in 1906 are largely dismissed from recognised and authoritative records of the Games). For much of the 2012 bidding process up to July 2005, it seemed that Paris would win the race to be a three-times host, especially as its two previous Games were in the first quarter of the twentieth century, in 1900 and 1924. Athens, arrogantly and incorrectly assuming a sentimental vote for the centenary 1996 event, eventually hosted its second Games in 2004, and thereby helped precipitate its country’s economic crisis. Los Angeles, with a half century between its 1932 and 1984 events, is the only other city to have held the Summer games twice. Others have tried including Tokyo and Berlin. Some major cities have sought the Games but without success: New York, Istanbul, Madrid. The latter, along with Chicago and Tokyo, lost out in the final bidding round for the 2016 Games, awarded in October 2009 to Rio de Janeiro. Much has changed since Los Angeles laid down its ultimatum to the IOC for the 1984 Games, effectively rewriting the rules of engagement for any host city, allowing levels of commercialisation of the event not previously seen: the sponsoring of the Olympic torch relay being one particularly controversial initiative. And since then, television rights, sponsorship programmes, and the attraction of hosting an event claimed to deliver the world’s largest-ever television audience have sustained the Olympics through crises of corruption (by officials and administration), cheating (the use of banned drugs for performance-enhancement), and economic volatility. It is remarkable that, for all these problems, the Olympics continues to stimulate bidding wars. What draws cities, states, and corporate allies in to this dynamic and towards this aspiration, and how is the prize won? It is these simple questions that underlie the consideration in this chapter of London’s successful bid for 2012, and the wider mechanics of the bidding process. As a prelude to this it is illuminating, for the purposes of comparison, to reflect on the city’s previous Summer Olympics.

London 1908 and 1948

1908

The first modern Games were held in cities on the basis of the networks of the founder of the modern Olympics as we know them, Pierre de Coubertin, and the pragmatics of innovation: make the event and then document its history. They were small-scale: Athens 1896 involved a mere 245 or so competitors from 14 nations, competing in 43 events. Paris in 1900 had double the number of nations and a little over 1,000 competitors competing in 75 events, but the transatlantic venue of St. Louis 1904 exposed the European anchorage of Olympian internationalism, more than halving the number of competitors, at a Games that spread out over four and a half months and was the least representative of any in the history of the event, with just 7 European countries participating (Wallechinsky and Loucky 2008). Chicago had actually been awarded the event, but the organisers of the 1904 World’s Fair (the Louisiana Purchase Exhibition) gained the support of US president Theodore Roosevelt to get this decision reversed. De Coubertin had little option than to accept this. With such a fragmented, scarcely international event — Tswana tribesmen at the Fair as part of a Boer War exhibition were hauled in to compete in the marathon and add international spice — the Olympic initiative looked to have derailed. Greece organised its own Athenian Games, what has become known as an ‘interim’ Olympics for 1906, with 20 nations and 847 athletes, and planned four-yearly celebrations intended to dovetail with the Olympics. Rome (chosen over Berlin: see Revue Olympique 1904: 72 for an account of this decision at the fourth session of the IOC in London) had been allocated the 1908 Games, but a fragile national economy, competing city factions across the country, and lack of support from the national Italian government in 1906 caused De Coubertin to doubt the strength of the commitment.

            British fencer Lord Desborough (see Box 1) had competed in Athens in 1906, doubling up as King Edward VII’s ‘British Representative … on the same auspicious occasion’. With the uncertainties in Rome, and the future of the De Coubertin project in doubt: ‘It was therefore with every prospect of success that the suggestion was made that the Games of 1908 should be celebrated in England … Lord Desborough was able to carry out that suggestion, not only because of the personal influence he possessed, but also because the Central Organisation from which the management of these games might be created had already come into existence in this country’ (Cook 1909: 19).

 

BOX 1: LORD DESBOROUGH

Beckett (2004) summarises: ‘For all his public duties, Grenfell [Desborough] was probably best-known by contemporaries for his sporting prowess. He had represented Harrow at cricket and Oxford in fencing, athletics, and rowing. He made two appearances in the university boat race in 1877 and 1878: the first was a dead heat and the second a victory for Oxford. He won the Thames punting championships for three successive years (1888–90), stroked an eight across the channel, sculled the London–Oxford stretch of the Thames in a crew of three in twenty-two consecutive hours, and rowed for the Leander club in the Grand Challenge Cup at Henley while an MP. Having won foils at both Harrow and Oxford, Grenfell also represented Britain, and became founding president of the Amateur Fencing Association. He twice swam Niagara, crossing the pool just below the falls, and he ascended the Matterhorn by three different routes. In one eight day period he ascended the Matterhorn, the little Matterhorn, Monte Rosa, the Rothorn, and the Weisshorn. On one occasion he was lost for three days in the Rocky Mountains. He was also a keen horseman, hunter, and fisherman. He went big-game shooting in India, Africa, and British Columbia, and caught tarpon off Florida. He had been master of the draghounds at Oxford and maintained his own harriers at Taplow Court, which had formerly been hunted by King Edward VII as prince of Wales. An excellent whip, he was president of the Coaching Club and the Four-in-Hand Club. One of the conservators of the Thames, he was the founding chairman of the Thames Salmon Association. Three times acting president of the Life Saving Society, he was also president and chairman of the Bath Club from 1894 to 1942. At various times Desborough was also president of both the Marylebone Cricket Club and the Lawn Tennis Association as well as being president of the Olympics held in London in 1908. He was chairman of the Pilgrims of Great Britain from 1919 to 1929 and president of the Amateur Athletic Association from 1930 to 1936.’ See too Rebecca Jenkins (Jenkins 2008: 4-5), on Desborough as a symbol of the contemporary ideal of amateur all-round excellence. He was also a student at Balliol College, Oxford, personifying in its athleticist and sporting version what incoming British prime minister Herbert Asquith called in 1908 the Balliol man’s ‘tranquil consciousness of an effortless superiority’ (Matthew 2004). Baker (2008: 89) notes that Desborough at one particular point of his busy life is said to have sat on 115 committees.

 

The fourth IOC session in London in June 1904 proved palatable to all concerned: meetings with sportsmen C.B. Fry and W.G. Grace; the Lord Mayor’s reception in Mansion House; dinner at the Corporation of Fishmongers’ splendid hall by London Bridge; visits to the MCC/Lord’s and the Toxophilite Society; a reception hosted by the Prince of Wales in Marlborough House; and a detailed tour of the palace of Westminster. All this made favourable impressions on both sides. In under a year, the British Olympic Association had been formed (May 1905) at a meeting at the House of Commons, with Lord Desborough as its President. This was the ‘Central Organisation’ to which the 1908 report referred. The following year Desborough was lobbying in Athens, Rome was abandoned (the tragic eruption of Mount Vesuvius in April 1906 provided a rationale for Rome/Italy’s withdrawal), lobbying within the IOC for Budapest was proving relatively ineffective (IOC minute, 1905). So London’s first Olympics was handed to it on a silver platter, with the Games planned as a core element of the Franco-British Exhibition, whose ‘organisers … were powerful advocates of the Olympic Movement and intended to make the Games the centrepiece of the festival’ (Miller 2008: 58).

            Desborough was a typical champion of the amateur and athleticist ideal. Under his leadership London gained the1908 Games via a combination of networking (three Great Britain members on a small and malleable IOC), backroom diplomacy, get-up-and-go confidence, and a degree of hauteur characteristic of the sporting elite of the time. This aristocratic networking included use of the stateroom in Lord Howard de Walden’s yacht moored in Athens’s Bay of Phlerum (Kent 2008: ch. 2).

1948

Another prominent English Lord played a central role in securing London’s second Olympics. David George Brownlow Cecil, sixth Marquess of Exeter, or Lord Burghley (see Box 2), had been a prominent Olympian in the 1920s (the model for the aristocratic Lord Lindsay in the 1981 Oscar-winning film Chariots of Fire), and was chairman and chief executive of the London Organising Committee.

 

BOX 2: LORD BURGHLEY

Janie Hampton writes: ‘In the chair was 43-year-old Lord Burghley, formerly a Conservative MP and Governor-General of Bermuda, who had won a gold medal in the 1928 Olympics. Educated at Eton and Cambridge, he owned a pack of fox hounds and had recently divorced his wife, the daughter of a duke. “On the maiden voyage of the Queen Mary, for the gratification of H.G. Wells and Lord Camrose he ran 400 yards after dinner, in evening dress, round the upper deck in 58 seconds”, wrote the Observer … Handsome and articulate, calm and genial, Burghley successfully torpedoed opposition to the Games with charm and persuasion’. (Hampton 2008: 27)

 

Burghley’s words at the closing ceremony of the London 1948 Olympics, displayed on the stadium scoreboard, evoked quintessential Olympic and Coubertinesque ideals: ‘The spirit of the Olympic Games, which has tarried here a while, sets forth once more. May it prosper throughout the world, safe in the keeping of all those who have felt its noble impulse in this great Festival of Sport’ (Organising Committee 1951). Burghley was president of the British Olympic Association for 30 years from 1936, and his idealism was based on the principles of tolerance, understanding, friendship (and an associated cultivation of cross-cultural relations among young people) as essential to the post-war world order. London had in fact been allocated the 1944 Games before the war (Tokyo was to have hosted the 1940 event) and in November 1944 Burghley and fellow British Olympic Association stalwart Lord Aberdare, along with a third member Sir Noel Curtis-Bennett, issued a statement that the first post-war Games should be in London. In October 1945 Burghley travelled to Stockholm to meet the vice-president and acting president of the IOC, Sigfrid Edström, a fellow veteran Olympian and long-term president of the International Amateur Athletics Association. From his base in Sweden Edström had sustained IOC contacts throughout the war, and after the death in 1942 of incumbent president Count Henri de Baillet-Latour, he became IOC president by acclamation in 1946. He had already written to Lord Aberdare, in May 1945: ‘[Avery] Brundage [then president of the US Olympic Committee] and I have agreed that we shall have the next Games in London’ (Phillips 2007: 6). Burghley’s trip to Sweden was mere protocol, and was followed up by a formal letter from the Lord Mayor of London seeking approval to stage the Games; in March 1946 a postal vote formally ‘allotted’ (Burghley’s words, see Organising Committee 1951: 17) the 1948 Games to London.

            Forty years on from London’s first Olympics, the second was landed without an open vote (there’s little evidence of voting in the ‘postal vote’ referred to by Burghley); by agreement among networks of elites (McWhirter 2004); with the promise of the restoration of Olympian idealism; and with an assumption that even in the havoc and the austerity of the post-war context (Bolz 2010; Hampton 2008), Britain could do it, could step in and save the day.

London 2012

Sixty years after Burghley’s securement of what he saw as London’s right, the Games had to be worked-for in a completely different kind of bidding process. Soured by revelations of corrupt administration and unethical practices by bureaucrat and official alike (Jennings 1996; Jennings and Sambrook 2000; Lenskyj 2000; Symson and Jennings 1992), the IOC needed internal reform and more transparency in its decision-making processes. Juan-Antonio Samaranch’s successor as IOC president, Jacques Rogge, president from 2001, has established and consistently reaffirmed the restrictions on hospitality and gift-giving that are intended to rid the bidding process of bribery and corruption, and sponsors concerned with the tarnished image of a corrupt IOC at the turn of the millennium have continued their partnerships, though after Beijing 2008 three North American giants — Manulife, Johnson and Johnson, and Kodak — terminated their support. Nevertheless, media rights have held their value, and the outcome of bidding processes can produce responses verging on hyperbole: ‘Rarely in peacetime have Londoners celebrated together with so much emotion at the heart of the city’ (Lee 2006: 192) may be an unsubstantiatable assertion, but there is no doubt that in London and some parts of the UK beyond England’s capital, the announcement by Rogge on July 6th 2005 that London had pipped Paris to get the 2012 Games generated enthusiastic, even joyful, responses. Mike Lee describes the Paris bidding team’s response in Singapore as ‘dumbstruck and dejected’, before the tears started to flow. So how did London do it?

            Lee, the London bid’s Director of Communications and Public Affairs, describes factors crucial to the success of the London bid: a united message emerging under inspired leadership; an emphasis on youth —  and this was brilliantly and pithily evoked in the London presentational video (Tomlinson 2008: 73-4) — and legacy; and the presence of prime minister Tony Blair in Singapore for several days before the vote. But crucially, regardless of the cleaned-up bidding process, and the restraints on favours and incentives, the London bid was anchored in a sustained and intensive process of lobbying, incalculable in terms of visible or actual costs. It is widely recognised that the Paris bid was weakened by internal divisions in leadership, and by the arrogance and assumptions of the country’s president, Jacques Chirac, who arrived at the last minute in Singapore confident that this third successive bid from Paris/France was won, and would deliver him an international success and legacy to match his internal monument, the Millau viaduct at the southern edge of the Massif Central. London played the bidding game more successfully than many had expected: a member of the bid team asked on the journey from the team hotel to the announcement venue, ‘What the hell are we going to do if we win?’; an experienced member of the administration at London’s City hall has conceded that no real budget was done, it was literally back-of-envelope jobs, so convinced was the Mayor of London’s office that the bid would not succeed.

            There are over 100 members of the IOC with voting rights and they constitute a scattered range of individuals, traditionally aristocratic, male, and privileged, though the committee has accepted women members from 1981, and its age-range has been widened by the inclusion of former athletes. The committee is capable of producing surprising results, but at the same time has often rewarded perseverance, awarding the event to a city that has come relatively close in previous bids. In part, this accounts for France’s over-confidence in 2005. But it is widely agreed that the Paris bid took success for granted, neglecting the context of the bidding process. In the central section of the book chapter, I peer more closely at the culture and context of bidding, lobbying, and decision-making relationships and dynamics, on the basis of my discussions with a veteran observer of international Olympic politics.

…………………………….

Conclusion

There are threats to the mega-event roller coaster: Athens 2004 was a financial disaster, and the Olympic facilities lie neglected and unwanted beyond the edge of the city; the cost of Beijing 2008 can never be known. But the queue to host ‘the world’s longest commercial’ (Payne 2005: 169) still forms, despite the range of charges that could be levied, during Samaranch’s presidency, against the bidding process: these included prejudice, commercial opportunism, and financial corruption via demands or inducements (Miller 1992: 219). Perhaps some of the worst of these excesses have been reined in to some extent, at least those discernible to the public eye. But who really knows quite what offers might be made, for example, by the likes of Roman Abramovich on behalf of his mentor Vladimir Putin, on the 21st century equivalents of Lord de Walden’s private yacht.

            The London 2012 bidding victory was rooted in lobbying processes and potentially beneficial mutual interests — or at least networks of likely personal advancement and aggrandisement, and an awareness of the importance of knowledge and communication networks.

…………………………………………..

            In Olympic circles, decisions and outcomes are less about policy than status, power, and prestige. London’s successful 2012 bid combined the entrepreneurial flair and interpersonal skills of Sir Keith Mills with the naked ambition of Lord Coe, to extraordinarily successful effect. Whether the benefits or impact of the event will justify the costs of its staging will not hamper the career trajectories of such operators: the Athens disaster has not curtailed the international profile of numerous of its organisers and leaders; Billy Payne of the widely criticised Atlanta Olympics is comfortable in his role as chairman of the Augusta National Golf Club and the Master’s golf major tournament, and secure in his knowledge that few are interested any longer in the cost and the impact of Atlanta 1996.

            In the aftermath and afterglow of the closing ceremony in Beijing’s Bird’s Nest stadium in 2008, LOCOG’s chairman Lord Coe looked forward to London’s turn (Coe 2008). Asked what effect Great Britain’s Olympic success (4th in the medal table, ahead of Germany and Australia) had on the British public’s support for London 2012, he responded that the vast majority ‘was captivated by Team GB and Paralympics GB’s achievements … the welcome they received during October’s Heroes Parade in London reflected that’. But London is not the ‘vast majority of the nation’. Coe’s abiding memories were of the ‘mind-boggling … spectacular venues’, and the ‘welcome afforded to us by the people of Beijing’. The combination of genuine Chinese hospitality and volunteer grooming will be difficult to replicate in London 2012, when eager volunteers have already been disillusioned by the banal and mundane experiences that it seems might reward their keenness to volunteer. And Coe was most impressed by the ‘attention to detail’ in Beijing, both in the global public eye of the opening and closing ceremonies, and in the background day-to-day business of the athletes’ village; there would be much to oversee in a London with no such command economy and culture on which to depend.

            Getting the Games has been motivated by changing motives throughout the Olympic story. London’s three Lords — Desborough, Burghley, and Coe — were all well-networked former top athletic competitors, but the first two inhabited completely different cultural worlds to that of Coe. Desborough was at his competitive peak before the modern Games were really established, while Burghley and Coe share the distinction of being champions and gold medallists of their time. But neither Desborough nor Burghley had need of a prime minister’s presence in their bidding delegations. Coe embodies a different world from that of the earlier Lords, one in which Olympic hosting is not just a part of the sporting calendar, but a key element in a wider social, political, and economic project.

…………………………………………….

Sponsors continue to come on board despite world recession and its effects. Joel Seymour-Hide, director of sports marketing consultancy Octagon, trusts in the deep commitment that people have to sports: ‘Sport tends to be relatively recession proof … It’s an irrational love which creates more loyalty and resilience’ (quoted in Black 2009: 40). This is the message from the marketeers, to sponsors ready to associate themselves with the powerful and persistent emotions of such irrationalism. London 2012 had played a memorable game in landing the event, but the burden of delivery is heavy. As Lord Coe gazed upwards, tight-lipped and pensive, at the fireworks at the Bird’s Nest extravaganza that closed Beijing 2008, no prime ministerial heavyweight by his side, he looked as if he were wondering just what he had let himself in for.

 

References

Baker, K. (2008) The 1908 Olympics, Cheltenham: SportsBooks.

Beckett, I.F.W. (2004) ‘Grenfell, William Henry, Baron Desborough (1855–1945)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, Sept 2004; online edn, May 2009 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/33566, accessed 23 March 2010].

Black, E. (2009, 7th December) ‘How sports fans can turn defeat into a victory for the economy’, London Evening Standard, p. 40.

Bolz, D. (2010) ‘The 1948 Olympics: The eve of Europe’s reconstruction’, presentation at symposium on ‘Sport and the Transformation of Modern Europe’, Sport in Modern Europe Network, Pembroke College, Cambridge, England, http://www.sport-in-europe.group.cam.ac.uk/symposium3summaries.htm [accessed 26th March 2010].

Coe, S. (2008, October-November-December) ‘Sebastian Coe: LOCOG Chairman’ (an interview) in  ‘Legacy’ section, Olympic Review: Official Publication of the Olympic Movement, Issue 69: 87.

Cook, T. A. [‘drawn up by’] (1909) The Fourth Olympiad Being The Official Report of the Olympic Games of 1908 Celebrated in London Under the Patronage of His Most Gracious Majesty King Edward VII And by the Sanction of The International Olympic Committee, drawn up by Theodora Andrea Cook and issued under the authority of The British Olympic Council, Published by The British Olympic Association, London.

DCMS (2001) Examination of Witness Professor Alan Tomlinson, House of Commons Select Committee on the Staging of International Sporting Events, Thursday March 8th 2001, www.culture.gov.uk/pdf/cm5288.pdf [accessed March 23rd 2010].

Hampton, J. (2008) The Austerity Olympics: When the Games Came to London in 1948, London: Aurum Press Ltd.

Jenkins, R. (2008) The First London Olympics 1908, London: Piatkus Books.

Jennings, A. (1996) The New Lords of the Rings: Olympic Corruption and How to Buy Gold Medals, London: Simon & Schuster.

Jennings, A. and Sambrook, C. (2000) The Great Olympic Swindle: When the World Wanted its Games Back, London: Simon & Schuster.

Kent, G. (2008) Olympic Follies: The Madness and Mayhem of the 1908 London Games: A Cautionary Tale, London: JR Books.

Lee, M. (2006) The Race for the 2012 Olympics: The Inside Story of How London Won the Bid (with Adrian Warner and David Bond), London: Virgin Books Ltd.

Lenskyj, H. J. (2000) Inside the Olympic Industry: Power, Politics, and Activism, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

McWhirter, N. (2004) ‘Cecil, David George Brownlow, sixth Marquess of Exeter (1905–1981)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, Oct 2005 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/30910, accessed 26 March 2010].

Matthew, H. C. G. (2004) ‘Asquith, Herbert Henry, first Earl of Oxford and Asquith (1852–1928)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, Jan 2011 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/30483, accessed 18 Jan 2011].

Miller, D. (1992) Olympic Revolution: The Olympic Biography of Juan Antonio Samaranch, London: Pavilion Books Ltd.

Miller, D. (2008) The Official History of the Olympic Games and the IOC: Athens to Beijing, 1894-2008, Edinburgh and London: Mainstream Publishing.

(The) Organising Committee for the XIV Olympiad London 1948 (1951) The Official Report of the Organising Committee for the XIV Olympiad, London.

Payne, M. (2005) Olympic Turnaround: How the Olympic Games Stepped Back from the Brink of Extinction to Become the World’s Best-known Brand —  and a Multi-billion Dollar Global Franchise, Twyford, Berks: London Business Press.

Phillips, B. (2007) The 1948 Olympics: How London Rescued the Games, Cheltenham: SportsBooks Ltd:.

Symson, V. and Jennings, A. (1992) The Lords of the Rings: Power, Money and Drugs in the Modern Olympics, London: Simon & Schuster.

Tomlinson, A. (2008) ‘Olympic Values, Beijing’s Olympic Games, and the Universal Market’, in M. E. Price and D. Dayan (eds) Owning the Olympics: Narratives of the New China, Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press.

ULI (2011) Urban Investment Opportunities of Global Events, London: ULI Europe.

Wallechinsky, D. and Loucky, J. (2008) The Complete Book of the Olympics 2008 Edition, London: Aurum Press.

 

Primary sources

IOC executive and sessional minutes and reports, the Olympic Museum, Lausanne.



[i] This work/chapter draws upon research supported by the British Academy’s small grants scheme for my personal research on “The construction and mediation of the sporting spectacle in Europe, 1992-2004”, Ref. SG47220.

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The Making - and Unmaking? - of the Olympic Corporate Class

 (This entry comprises extracts, from the beginning, a later section, and the conclusion, of a chapter to be included in Helen Lensjky and Stephen Wagg (eds), Handbook of Olympic Studies (Palgrave Macmillan), in 2011.)[i]

‘All these operations take money. You cannot help the developing countries with words. You must help them with money. And that is our policy’.

Juan Antonio Samaranch (Fortune 500, 1996)

Shedding sponsors

By the end of 2008, as a global economic crisis worsened, after the Olympic nationalist boosterism of Beijing 2008 had dominated the mid-year newsrooms, four primary Olympic sponsors within the elite TOP (The Olympic Programme) scheme had withdrawn from, or chosen not to renew, their partnerships with the International Olympic  Committee: Kodak; John Hancock/Manulife; Johnson & Johnson; and Lenovo. Their names were unlikely to be stripped from the marbled walls of the International Olympic Committee's (IOC) Olympic Museum in Lausanne, Switzerland, but the unprecedented loss of such partners sent shockwaves through the established international sporting economy.

TOP (The Olympic Programme) value?

Adidas boss Horst Dassler was a pivotal figure in framing the new political economy of international sports events, and in the afterglow of the Los Angeles’s 1984 Summer Olympic Games’s commercial success and ideological impact, companies not previously associated with sport looked to the Olympics and comparable high-profile sports events as major elements in their worldwide marketing strategies. But three decades on from Dassler’s death in 1987 perhaps things were about to change. Seven out of 10 of the TOP sponsors at the 1996 Atlanta Games were no longer in the mix after 2008. A third of the IOC’s 12 elite ‘worldwide partners’ withdrew after the 2008 Beijing Games, at the end of TOP VI. They had, though, retained a presence in full-page spreads in the IOC’s post-Beijing special edition of its publication Olympic Review. Kodak’s stress on the special magic of the visual image produced an androgynous hurdler in full striding flight over a hurdle: the vast majority of the small images comprising the multicoloured shapes of the figure and the object were of young children; under the picture the Games were offered back to the people: ‘Cherish your Olympic moments’ (p. 55). Johnson & Johnson (p. 45) featured Bryan Clay, the USA’s decathlon gold medallist at Beijing, holding a toddler on his lap whilst sitting in a garden swing: ‘You captured the gold in front of the world. So who’d have thought your best times would happen in your own backyard? Having a baby changes everything’. Here, the pinnacle of Olympic achievement pales into perspective as Clay gazes down at the next generation, in a monochrome resonant of both a nostalgia and a timelessness. Lenovo (p. 61) stressed the togetherness of the 4 billion people worldwide, brought together by ‘a great idea’, and linked the great idea of the Olympics with the ‘ideas everywhere’ that could flow from the company’s support of the Games ‘with over 20,000 pieces of computing equipment’.  Manulife (p. 24) highlighted a young Chinese girl, Wong Lok Yiu, ‘an aspiring ballerina [who] has a dream’, in a ballet pose, teddy bear by her side, and the caption ‘I wish I could dance forever’. The green and white of the company’s slogan was reproduced in the foliage framed by the pastel shades of the wall and window-frame of Wong’s dance room. ‘We’re here to help’, added Manulife. ‘Bringing dreams to life’ was the slogan at the bottom of the spread. Perhaps in awareness of its imminent withdrawal from the TOP scheme, the insurance company produced a mini essay on the motif of the dream:

We all have dreams. For ourselves, our families and our loved ones. At Manulife, we have comprehensive protection products to help you fulfil your wishes, whether for basic financial security, or an education plan to help your child be everything she wants to be.

For over 100 years, we’ve worked all around the world making all kind of dreams come alive. Whatever it is that’s important to you in life, we’ll support you with our global experience. So go ahead… dream on. We’ll help you get there.

That’s five dreams and three wishes in this long-term sponsor’s farewell spread. These four departing sponsors shared an emphasis on youth, families, and the future. Johnson & Johnson was a one-time or single-phase TOP sponsor, as was Lenovo, the first Chinese company to partner the IOC; but Kodak and Manulife (the erstwhile John Hancock) were long-term sponsors. Kodak had boasted, in 2004, of its 106-year-old pedigree as an Olympic sponsor, and employed little rhetoric or hyperbole, relying on the evidence of its clients’ own eyes as to the technological prowess of the brand (Tomlinson, 1995: 191). In 2004 John Hancock had celebrated the ‘plain old virtue’ of the qualities of patriotism, tolerance, selfless sacrifice, individual excellence’ (ibid.), and used trips to the Olympics as a motivational tool for its employees: ‘John Hancock began sponsoring the Olympics in 1993 and continued this relationship until its acquisition by Manulife in 2004, whereupon Manulife has since continued as one of the TOP program sponsors. John Hancock senior management estimated that its $40 million Olympic sponsorship had led to a $50 million increase in sales’. (Davis, 2008, p. 215) With such affirmative testimonies, what were the reasons for withdrawing from the TP scheme?

Kodak’s termination of its long-term was hardly surprising, given the changing nature of the global market for image-making technologies. A Kodak company spokesman attributed the decision to the company’s efforts to convey its message "closer to our customers". "Our new business strategy requires us to reassess our marketing tactics as well, and adapt them to changing market conditions and evolving customer behavior," Kodak’s Director of Brand Management Elizabeth Noonan stated (Paul, 2007)

Lenovo became a TOP partner in 2004, and in the same year bought the PC and laptop computer business of former TOP sponsor IBM. But its market share worldwide actually fell in the year of the Beijing Games, from 7.8% to 7.3%, putting the company behind Acer, Dell, and HP. Lenovo felt uncertain about committing an estimated further $65 million, and the TOP category was taken up by Taiwan-based rival Acer (McGlamery, 2008).

Johnson & Johnson did not take up an option for any more than just the one Olympics, expressing its pride at having been an Olympic sponsor: “With our sponsorship of the Beijing 2008 Olympic Games, we set out to reinforce the already positive perceptions of Johnson & Johnson in China”, spokeswoman Lorie Gawreluk wrote. She added: “Thanks to our association with these Games and the International Olympic Committee we've been successful in reaching those goals.” (USA Today, 2008).  But the healthcare company felt underexposed at Beijing. Its pavilion in the Beijing Olympics Green Area drew disappointingly low numbers to see its products or sample its customized wares, attributed in part to the effects of over-zealous security personnel. A statement that the company was choosing to focus on other business priorities could not disguise the fact that the Olympic sponsorship was relatively disappointing for the US-based health care and pharmaceuticals giant.

Manulife made little of its decision to cease sponsorship, at least in the public sphere. It had in fact inherited the sponsorship status in its takeover of John Hancock, a TOP partner since 1993, and clearly Manulife’s sales in Asia and China in the run-up to and during Beijing 2008 were boosted by the sponsorship status. But perhaps that was enough; exposure to the world’s largest emergent market as a one-off, and then some caution as to a further investment of something around $100 million for a renewal. In a reversal of the policy of the TOP era, the insurance category was then handed back by the IOC to National Olympic Associations/Organizing Committees to do with it what they chose.

Outcomes and tensions

The capacity of the Olympics to remake its own myth, to attract political and economic partners in its cycle of self-renewal, has been remarkable. IOC President Jacques Rogge wrote, in 2004, the year of the Athens Games: “The Olympic Games are the most prestigious sports event that a city can organize. They are the dream and fulfilment of young athletes. They also represent an extraordinary sporting, social, cultural and environmental legacy for the host city, the region and the country” (Preuss, 2004, p. xiv). He added that “as a catalyst for urban redevelopment” the Games are accelerators of change, enabling changes over 7 years that would usually take decades to accomplish.

From a marketing perspective, the Olympic phenomenon is unique: ‘The Olympics epitomize prestige and distinction, qualities associated with the rare and the unique … They are analogous to a limited edition, exclusive luxury item, never to be offered twice in exactly the same way’. (Davis, 2008, p. 5)  Davis adds that victorious Olympic athletes are perceived as special kinds of winners: “they are seen as extraordinarily heroic individuals who won in an exclusive, even rare, form of international competition against the very best competitors from around the world. The exclusive appeal of the Olympic Games, combined with the unique, even daunting challenges athletes undertake, creates a compelling, irresistible quality that motivates companies to support the Olympics in the hope of benefiting from the associated halo effect”. (Davis, 2008, p. 5) And at the level of rhetoric, the Olympics can still serve as a stage for the highest and noblest of human ideals. At the Albertville Winter Games in 1992, Samaranch called for a cease-fire in the Balkans, asking the stadium to “rise in silent tribute to the fallen city of Sarajevo”, Olympic hosts just 10 years before: “’The Olympic Movement is stronger than ever’, he said as a slight snow fell. ‘Please stop the fighting. Please stop the killing. Drop your guns.’” (Fortune 500, 1996, unpaginated).

The halo effect continues to work for the sponsoring corporation on one of the biggest stages in human history. The uniqueness of the Olympic product is presented to the biggest television audiences in Olympic history: “more than 5,000 hours of live high-definition coverage for broadcasters in 220 territories” (Olympic Review, 2008, p. 48), in the first-ever fully digital Games; and “the first to be broadcast entirely in High Definition and in stereo surround sound” (p. 51). The total of dedicated coverage was 61,700 hours.

Online coverage of Beijing 2008, from “the sample of sites for which statistics were available”, generated “a total of 8.2 billion pages views and over 628 million video streams” (Sponsorship Intelligence, 2009, p. 3). The 4.3 billion people who had home access to official broadcast coverage constituted 63% of the world’s population. Economic recession may have dented the commitment of some sponsors, but figures like these will without doubt keep the Olympic bandwagon rolling. If there is a dip in the fortunes of the corporate Olympic class, the single company may feel that one cycle of Olympic partnership is enough, or that volatile global markets make the Olympic partnership too high a risk. But sufficient stalwart partners in fast food and soft drinks, communications technology and financial services, complemented by parvenu sponsors looking to achieve global profile or regional dominance, remain willing to invest sufficiently in the five rings to sustain the Olympic brand.

In 1976 there was no significant corporate class to provide financial leverage for the Olympic Games in Montreal, Canada, an event that accumulated a debt of for the city of $1.5 billion, which took 30 years to pay off (CBC, 2006). Writer Jack Ludwig saw through the staged bonhomie of Montreal’s closing ceremony, what he called “waning moments” of realization that “this was indeed the end. Tomorrow there was – nothing. The Swimming Pool would be dark. Repair work would have to begin on the leaky Velodrome roof “ (Ludwig, 1976, p. 164). Los Angeles ’84 and the Samaranch economic model changed the tone, the pitch of the event, and boosted the rhetoric of Olympism as well as the coffers of the IOC. But outside Athens, the proud facilities of 2004 lie unwanted and neglected, the bold white architecture of the Olympic stadium and complex soiled by the overgrowing weeds, a monument to the financial excesses that destabilized the Greek economy. Olympic facilities in Seoul 1988 may have changed the world’s perception of South Korea, as emergent Asian Tiger, but the stadium has more use as a film set for gangster and thriller movies than for sporting events and occasions. And even at the majestic Sydney complex at Homebush Bay – again, an Olympics claimed to have transformed the image of a nation and not just a city – the facilities built for the 2000 Games attract only occasional use. In Beijing, three years after its 2008 spectacular, the Bird’s Nest and the Cube draw in local people playing recreational sports on an informal basis, rather than high-performance competitive vents. In early 2011, arguments were raging in London over the post-2012 fate of the Olympic Stadium, with football clubs Tottenham Hotspur and West Ham United fighting (the latter the winning competitor) for the privilege of defending any remnant of London’s bidding pledge to guarantee on athletics legacy for the city and the country; Lamine Diack, president of the International Association of Athletics Federations, raged that it would be a “big lie” if the stadium was torn down, or used exclusively for football. The arguments might continue within the extended networks of the Olympic Family, but the loyalists and arrivistes within the corporate class would be beyond all of this, seeing such legacy talk as no more than a local skirmish, as they eyed the hotel bookings for London 2012 and the flight schedules for Rio 2016.

 

References

CBC (2006) ‘Quebec’s Big Owe stadium debt is over’ (19th December). http://www.cbc.ca/canada/montreal/story/2006/12/19/qc-olympicstadium.html [downloaded 9th February 2011].

J.A. Davis (2008) The Olympic Games Effect: How sports marketing builds strong brands (John Wiley & Sons [Asia] Pte. Ltd.: Singapore).

Fortune 500 (1996) Empowering the Olympic Movement: A look at the business dynamics behind the Olympics (Special Advertising Section), Fortune 500 1996 Issue.

J. Ludwig (1976) Five Ring Circus: The Montreal Oympics (New York: Doubleday).

T. McGlamery, T. (2008) ‘Did Lenovo waste Olympic sponsorship?’, Around the Rings (19th October).

F. Paul (2007) ‘Kodak to end Olympics sponsorship after 2008 Games’, Reuters US Edition (12th October). http://www.reuters.com/article/2007/10/12/us-kodak-olympics-idUSWEN164520071012 [downloaded 8th February 2011].

H. Preuss (2004) The Economics of Staging the Olympics: A comparison of the Games 1972-2008 (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar).

Sponsorship Intelligence (2009, September) Games of the XXIX Olympiad, Beijing 2008: Global Television and Online Media Report, Lausanne: IOC. http://www.olympic.org/Documents/IOC_Marketing/Broadcasting/Beijing_2008_Global_Broadcast_Overview.pdf [downloaded 8th February 2011].

A. Tomlinson (2005) ‘The Commercialization of the Olympics: Cities, corporations, and the Olympic commodity’, in K. Young and K. Wamsley [Eds.], Global Olympics: Historical and sociological studies of the modern Games (Oxford: Elsevier), pp. 179-200

USA Today (2008) ‘Johnson & Johnson out as Olympic sponsor’, USA Today (18th November).

http://www.usatoday.com/sports/olympics/2008-11-17-sponsor-johnsonandjohnson_N.htm [downloaded 8th February 2011].

 

 

 

 

 

 



[i] This chapter draws upon research supported by the British Academy’s small grants scheme for my personal research on “The construction and mediation of the sporting spectacle in Europe, 1992-2004”, Ref. SG47220. 

07 March 2011 in Observations on the Olympics | Permalink

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The International Olympic Committee and the Olympic System

Jean-Loup Chappelet and Brenda Kübler-Mabbott, The International Olympic Committee and the Olympic System: The Governance of World Sport, Routledge, 2008, 208pp. + xiv  ISBN 978-0-415-43168-2

(This is an amended version of a book review to be published in the academic journal Sport in History)

This is the twenty-fourth book to appear in an ambitious initiative, the ‘Routledge Global Institutions’ series edited by Thomas G. Weiss and Rorden Wilkinson, political scientists based in New York and Manchester (England) respectively – at least sixteen more books are also published or commissioned. But it is the first in the series to focus upon a sport-based organisation: as the series editors say, the book ‘deals with one of the less visible aspects of global governance’ (p. xiii), filling ‘a curious void in the contemporary literature’ on institutions of global governance. Their point is that the International Olympic Committee (IOC), as an ‘informal civil institution’, has had a massive profile in and immense impact upon world culture and politics, but has not really been subjected to analytical scrutiny of its organisational ways of working and its institutional politics. There have of course been innumerable studies of aspects of the IOC’s work, or of particular products (the IOC’s main one of course being the Summer and Winter Olympic Games) or controversies (vote-rigging, bias in decision-making). But Chappelet and Kübler-Mabbott’s brief was to produce an overview and analysis of the IOC and its ‘system’ that could take readers beyond official sources or opportunistic commercial perspectives – an overview that would be of use to anyone from diplomats to undergraduates.

The authors have provided a comprehensive, detailed, and invaluably informative text. It is clearly structured on the basis of their conception of the Olympic system. Early on, we are given organisational graphics – elements of the Olympic system represented as circles, with arrows connecting the different links between those elements, and showing the swirling reciprocity between most of them, in a system that the authors understand as one of negotiated equilibrium in an imperfect world. Reading the book in one go, I was acronymed out, given the thorough coverage of any type of organisation related to the IOC, and the splinter movements that some organisations stimulated in challenging the IOC, or the IOC itself – through, say, a particular IOC president’s cunning, Machiavellian (a word not used by the authors) manoeuvres – put in place. I have read a lot of IOC documents and consulted the increasingly dense detail available on the IOC’s website. Indeed, the IOC is to be congratulated, in the post-Samaranch era – Juan Antonio Samaranch stepped down as IOC president after the Sydney 2000 Summer Olympic Games – on this level of public accountability and organisational and financial transparency; Chappelet and Kübler-Mabbott organise this material in a very systematic fashion and take the reader on a clear journey through the institutional dynamics of Olympic organisations, and some of the politics of intra- and inter-organisational dynamics. For that they are to be congratulated; I felt like a lucky tourist who’d got lots of attention from a top tour guide. But there was so much on the tour, that I wasn’t always getting the full story before moving on to the next item.  

The first chapter overviews the Olympic system, and the different ‘actors’ or ‘entities’ that make up the ‘robust structure’ of the Olympic Movement. The core five actors are the IOC itself, the respective and relatively short-lived Organising Committees of the particular Games, the International Sports Federations, the National Olympic Committees, and the National Sports Federations. Four newer actors are governments and inter-governmental organizations, multi-national sponsors, national sponsors, and professional leagues of teams/athletes. It’s become a closely linked network, ‘a new, expanded Olympic system’ (p. 9), encompassing ‘a broad range of partners: public, private and associative, and national, international and transnational’ (p. 16). Joint governance by this range of partners and interests is, not surprisingly, complex and volatile, so ‘the equilibrium is a precarious one’ (p. 16). Three regulating influences that the IOC has spawned are the Court of Arbitration for Sport (1983), and the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) and the Ethics Commission, both founded in 1999 in a climate of controversy and crisis for the IOC amidst revelations of administrative corruption and escalating revelations of drug abuse by athletes and coaches. The IOC at the end of Samaranch’s reign hardly emerges with much credit here, reforming and restructuring only in response to pressure from the world media, partner sponsors (US company John Hancock in particular) and US Congress investigations. The book’s penultimate chapter is dedicated to the emergence and role of these three regulators, including a lengthy case-study of WADA, and the final, eighth chapter offers ‘five major political and management principles’ (p. 177) upon which a more developed model of adequate governance by the IOC might be based: transparency, democracy, accountability, autonomy, and social responsibility. Chappelet and Kübler-Mabbott are enthusiasts of the IOC and the Olympic Movement/System, reiterating several times throughout the  book that the Olympic Games constitutes an important cultural heritage for humankind, and that the IOC has achieved across its 114 year-long history a remarkable significance as a symbol of international co-operation and , peace (see p. 124 for instance). Yet they worry for the future of the IOC and its system, and the core product of the Games, threatened as the latter is by the scale of the events (the issue of gigantism, as discussed in Olympic circles). Their final words are that there are ‘very real threats to the credibility of sport: doping, violence and corruption’ (p. 181). Their solution is that the United Nations steps in with a global sport policy; and that the IOC stimulates a diplomatic conference to get as many countries in the world as possible to sign up to ‘Lausanne Conventions’ confirming sport as a public good, and ‘the Olympic Games as a world heritage’ (p. 180).

After their exhaustive collation of the mechanisms, systems and practices of the actors in the Olympic system – chapters 2 to 6 cover the IOC itself, National Olympic Committees, International Sports Federations, Organising Committees, and governments – you can see why they might recommend an even higher level of global oversight of the sport sphere. The authors have certainly captured the transformation of the IOC, and show how Samaranch modernized it and why and how his successor Jacques Rogge has reformed aspects of its administration. They also catalogue some of the cases of corrupt administration that stimulated a review of practices and procedures at the end of the 1990s. And there are some carefully worded assertions, too; former UK prime minister Tony Blair is in effect accused of violating Olympic bidding ethics in Singapore in July 2005, in his intensive lobbying of IOC members just hours before the vote to decide the 2012 Olympic host – but the IOC Ethics Commission chair had not gone to Singapore, so nothing could be done (p. 163). Blair was of course supporting a bid led by former athlete Lord Coe, who became inaugural chair of football federation FIFA’s new ‘independent ethics committee ... FIFA’s third judicial body’ (p. 160) the following year. The authors are very good on the IOC’s belated entry into the Ethics field, commenting that after reading redundant, reworked ethics and rules texts over the years, ‘the impression gained is one of a juridical tangle that is difficult for common mortals to grasp’ (p. 161). But there is, also, a tone to the book of the insider. In their Acknowledgments they express their gratitude ‘to a number of IOC members – including presidents – and senior and junior staff who have interacted with us over the years’, answering their questions and explaining what ‘Olympism’ is and how it works. No interviews or interrogation, it seems: rather, careful cultivation of contacts, assiduous information-gathering and faithful collation. It’s as if, at times, courtesy to your sources prevails over analysis and interpretation. It’s never noted, for instance, that Samaranch came to the IOC with a pedigree as a high-ranking figure in Franco’s Fascist regime. Nothing is really made of Horst Dassler’s role as the Mr. Fixit of world sport finances in the 1970s and 1980s. And when the Swiss government revised its arrangements for sport organizations’ status – including entry to the country, work and residence permits, property acquisition, and taxation of staff – in 2001, this is described as the provision of ‘sufficient flexibility in order for them to function in an unrestricted way as the entities governing world sport’ (p. 109) – isn’t this management-speak for unaccountability? How does this fit with the authors’ own list of necessary principles for good governance? There’s no doubt, though, that this addition to the ‘Global Institutions’ series will be a widely used source for policy-makers and sport lobbyists, as well as academic constituencies. Among the latter, historians of sport may have wanted more on the earlier IOC, its leaders and practices. It’s a fascinating fact that only one country has provided two IOC presidents, but one of these – Count Henri de Baillet-Latour, of Belgium – gets very little coverage: his successor, Swede Sigfrid Edstrom, who preserved the flickerings of an Olympic flame throughout World War II and into the 1950s, gets none, beyond a listing. The topic of the IOC and its networks is vast though, and the authors have chosen to concentrate upon the transformational phase of IOC history from the last quarter of the twentieth century onwards. To do that, lucidly and succinctly, in so much meticulous organisational and policy detail, is a service to the field. As a prospective further contributor to this series – commissioned to write on the world governing body of football, FIFA – I am grateful to these authors for their painstaking attention to detail and their contextualization of the IOC in the world sport system. My own perspective may aspire to give fuller voices to the influential actors, past and present, in world sport, but this valuable study provides a splendid marker for those entering this field of research.

© Alan Tomlinson, October 2008


07 October 2008 in Book Reviews, Observations on the Olympics | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

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Beckham on the Bus: Reporting the Beijing Olympics

All Olympic Games raise predictable questions of knowledge control, and generate fiery exchanges among journalists and cultural critics and commentators about access. Things are a far cry from the provision of a few telephone and telegraph lines at the local post office, which was all that Amsterdam needed to provide 60 years before Beijing’s Olympic summer. At Sydney 2000 around IOC-accredited media people were in town, and a further 5,000 or so media personnel were accredited by the host city. This scale of media presence was exceeded in Beijing, where the IOC accredited 21,600 media professionals: 5,600 of these were for the written and photographic press, writing the millions of words of unused or killed copy that the Olympics always spawns, as well as everyday copy on their own countrymen/women’s sporting and competitive highs and lows. But the Olympics are not merely about sport: host cities have their wider messages and Beijing’s use of the world media spotlight is part of a wider project to remake the image of China. The media challenge at the Beijing Games has been to operate not just in the Olympic cocoon, but to place the event in this wider context – one made still more complex by the issue of Tibet and the tragedy of the Chinese earthquake. IOC President Jacques Rogge had said consistently in the build-up to the Games that the Olympic Games could change China itself: a bold claim, reiterated in his later statement that ‘the proof is in the eating – these Games will change this country but also the perception of the world towards this country’. At the beginning of the Games journalists, and then Rogge himself, had successfully challenged Beijing’s control over media access (to websites such as Amnesty International) and it is true that normal Chinese restraints on communication and information were loosened for the duration of the event. But how long would this be for? As Rogge and his committees and sponsors left the city and the country, what substantial changes were really accomplished?

Such issues framed a fascinating event staged at the University of Westminster, London, England, at the end of May. The launch event of the London Asian Cultural Studies Network, The Race is On – Trailing the Beijing Olympics featured five talks from Asian Studies specialists homing in on the Olympic theme. Anthropologist Susan Brownell, in Beijing on a Fulbright scholarship, was both observing and participating in the educational side of the Olympic event. She had been working with intellectuals and professionals collaborating with Central China and Beijing City governments ‘to shape the next generation of Chinese people through “Olympic Education”’. Her main theme was the underlying hostility of the West to the Beijing project, which she presented as a collaboration of unprecedented proportions between not just the intellectuals and the politicians, but the international community and non-communist parties. Brownell described her position - adviser to the IOC education committee - as a cultural bridge between China and the outside world: in the USA, Brownell’s become the insider outsider for the event, particularly before the media pack arrived in Beijing. She noted how, given her unusual level of access (and anthropological expertise on China), journalists had been using her ‘in desperation’ as a stand-in for real Chinese people. Desperation indeed – picture this: one American anthropologist speaking for the largest human population on the planet. In a realistically positive, but far from idealist or naive way, Brownell conceded that ‘the Olympics alone will not change China for better or worse’, but could certainly ‘open up spaces’ for cultural and political exchange and understanding. Kevin Latham talked on the new media and identity, linking the Olympics to China’s strategy to achieve national ‘informatization’, and to amend or reshape Chinese national identities: how would mediated events of the Beijing Olympics feed into ‘the construction of new Chinese social, political, and cultural identities’? In some ways the answer’s quite clear. Coming out on top, widely praised for planning, organisation and administration, the Chinese people – whatever that means – would be told just how great the country is, its culture and civilization now better understood by the world, its national prestige more than intact. But Latham warned against an over-simplification here, noting that in China the portable television currently has more consequences than the internet, that the media world is a very fragmented one, making it difficult to judge general impacts. Latham and his research colleagues were in Beijing undertaking fieldwork to try and see just how this fragmented media world was making sense to Chinese people themselves. Mark Harrison looked at television-news reporting of the Beijing Olympics, detecting a ‘deep anxiety about China’ in media discourses focusing in recurrent ways upon the ‘rise of China’ and its consequences. Citing examples from Channel 4 News, BBC 24 and Sky News, Latham’s clips showed the Western media’s simultaneous trivialisation and almost demonisation of the Beijing project. Veteran China journalist John Gittings looked at the Tibet context, asking whether the issue could provide a lesson for foreign journalists and for the Chinese state and media on how to adequately tackle ‘similar “off-track” stories’. His main argument was that the coverage of the Tibetan situation lacked any ‘complete picture or analysis of why this was happening’. Gittings’s remarks were very sobering: the quick in-and-out of journalists at the time of and during a news event or cultural event is hardly a thorough preparation for grasping the detail underlying complex historical, political and cultural issues. The earthquake had effected a 180degree change in the state authorities’ approach to the world media, what Gittings called an ‘amazing change’ and an opportunity for media people and journalists to say ‘open the door’ still more. But would there be any sustained ‘openness’ when the Games (and the Paralympic Games) were over, after and beyond October 1st? The final presentation by Bingchun Meng, picked up the topical theme of the Olympic torch relay. In the ‘midst of the torch relay turmoil’ in April, a newspaper at the University of Maryland, USA, published a cartoon of the Beijing Olympic logo, re-presenting and transforming the design (representing human harmony and co-operation) as a bloodstain. Chinese students at the university were enraged by this, and the episode illuminated the complex cultural dynamics at the heart of Olympic iconography. Much of the discussion at the Westminster event centred on control and access, core themes in any analysis of the cultural and political significance, and potential, of the media. Such themes were also prominent in the book Owning the Olympics: Narratives of the new China (University Michigan Press, 2008, edited by Monroe E. Price and Daniel Dyan), published too in the run-up to the Games. As Price himself put it in his essay ‘”One World, Different Dreams”: The contest to define the Beijing Olympics’, the issue is ‘who has what degree of control over the narratives that define our lives’. Price talks of ‘the jurisprudence of platforms’ in relation to how representations of China have been constructed in the drama of the Beijing narratives: who constructs these, and has access to them; who controls and/or defends these constructions; what are the modes of ‘seeking access’? The Guardian’s Marina Hyde (Saturday August 16th) reminded us that only 40% of the tickets for the Games were available to the general public, so took a look at the state media provision on China Central State Television (acronym,in English, CCTV): unsurprisingly, pro-Tibet protesters abseiling down the side of CCTV’s head office didn’t make it onto the screen. Rather, the channel replayed Olympic ditties welcoming you to Beijing, and thousands of locals singing ‘Beijing I love you; and focused, as most national broadcasters do, on its own, on Chinese Olympians, but with little detail on the individual athlete’s story: ‘It is as if the only narrative that matters is that of China’s. Hence endless focus on the medal table’. Hyde’s observations provide on-site testimony to the perspicacity of Price’s agenda. The contributors to the Westminster event also pointed usefully to some beginnings towards answering these crucial questions.

In the week before the Games BBC radio correspondent Mihir Bose got more realistic than the idealists, noting that the change agent in this story could well be not the Olympics itself, but the host: China showing the USA’s national Olympic committee (NOC) and the established sponsors that their cosy partnerships might be questionable. Why, if Beijing staged such an acclaimed show, should the US NOC get a disproportionate share of Olympic revenues, circulating these monies back into the economy from which much of it came? The Beijing Olympics confirmed the (albeit limited) transnational power of bodies like the IOC to transcend normal regulations and procedures – Bose noted that his laminated Olympic card got him into China, without the elaborate visa bureaucracy that would normally be essential for entry. Sport events do this regularly: UEFA effects such deals regularly for the one-off occasions of Champions League finals. But a laminated card for a few weeks in a single year isn’t going to change history. As the Olympics dissembled the sport journalists left for other patches. The political stories had faded anyway, as Michael Phelps eclipsed Mark Spitz, Usain Bolt shattered Michael Johnson’s record, journalists from the UK lauded Team GB’s medal haul, and an unknown young woman from Mansfield, England, broke swimming’s longest-standing world record: Rebecca Adlington’s first response to her new superstar status was to hunger after a McDonald’s (the contract’s in the post Rebecca). This was a long way from Tibet and earthquakes: when the whistle goes, or the flame is lit, the attention switches to the stadium. Beijing and China won’t have been fundamentally changed by the glow of success; the country’s position atop the medals table simply confirms its body politic, national prestige and international ambitions. The IOC will go its predictable way to London 2012 and beyond, and after the wonders of the Water Cube and the thrills of the Bird’s Nest, the five-ring circus just moves on. Beckham on the bus began the journey away from Beijing: no doubt President Rogge was happy to hitch a ride on the double-decker, and chug towards a simpler set of questions and issues than the political agenda plaguing the 2008 Games.

© Alan Tomlinson August 21st/24th 2008

22 August 2008 in Observations on the Olympics | Permalink | Comments (0)

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Olympic Survivals: The Olympic Games as a Global Phenomenon

You can also download a pdf version of this article

In this paper I do three things. First, I review come commentaries on globalization and culture, and globalization and sport. Second, I offer some selective reflections on the history of the Olympic Games, casting an analytical, periodizing eye over the 24 (Summer) Games, warning against the analysis of the Olympics on the basis of a sort of boxed-off self-referencing history of the sport event itself. Third, I review projections and claims made for the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games, and then discuss why and how the Olympics continues to be such a prominent player in the global politics of sport.

In the first half of 2003 some of the world’s major cities – London, Madrid, Moscow, New York, Paris – and other hopefuls such as Havana, Istanbul, and Leipzig, lined themselves up for the competition to win the hosting of the 2012 Summer Olympic Games. In Prague, in June of the same year, over 100 delegates from the bidding cities of Vancouver, Salzburg and Pyeongchang accompanied their teams’ last-ditch presentations, hoping to sway the remaining floating votes among the 100 or so IOC (International Olympic Committee) members whose whims and fancies would determine the decision to as to where to place the 2010 Winter Games.(1) Top politicians, prime ministers from Canada, Austria and South Korea lent their names to the bids, assuming obvious benefits should their city gain the victory. Such benefits, economic and/or symbolic, are notoriously difficult to identify in any precise fashion, and it is as much the ideological cant of the Olympic phenomenon that sustains its profile in the modern international world as any clear or tangible gains. This was reiterated in the rhetoric and style of the three presentations in Prague, where glitzy contemporary populism was mixed with pseudo-philosophical babble in tributes to the enduring values of Olympism. Eventual winner Vancouver went first, entitling its presentation The Sea to Sky Games, and lead man John Furlong talked of the Olympics as ‘a powerful platform for building a better world through sport’. He recalled the words of the immigrations officer who’d greeted him on arriving in Canada from Ireland 30 years before: ‘Welcome to Canada. Make us better’. ‘To give is the Canadian way’, he added, telling the IOC that ‘The Olympic Winter Games will make us all better’. Hockey superstar Wayne Gretzky talked of the fulfilment of his sporting dreams, which included four Stanley Cup victories, then added that ‘there’s no greater honour than the Olympics because there’s no greater movement than the Olympics’, and stated Team Canada’s belief in the possibility of a world living in peace through sport. Other Winter Olympians recalled their starts in sport. Catronia Le May Doan, speed-skating gold medal winner at Nagano and Salt Lake City, emphasised the limitlessness of the bid’s vision of ‘an Olympic dream of forever’. This would include 50,000 event tickets in an Olympic access programme for children who could not otherwise afford to attend any events, and an international youth camp populated by two children invited from every National Olympic Committee. Furlong reappeared and pledged that if the decision went Vancouver’s way, if the voters ‘felt our passion’, then we ‘would distinguish ourselves in the cause of sport and humanity … Our dream, like your dream, is a dream of forever’. Salzburg was next, appealing to its small-town charm and its reputation for music and culture. Mozart, born in the town, dominated the soundtrack of the video clips, and the presentation was compered by Annely Peebo, a blonde opera singer with a potentially winning smile, who was soon to warble the title line of the bid, The Sound of (Winter) Sport. The Austrian prime minister, Wolfgang Schussel, referred to the success story of the Olympics, stated the intent to get over 100 nations to participate in 2010, and praised sport’s capacity to cultivate ‘competition instead of confrontation’, and to speak for peace. The head of Salzburg’s music festival also emphasised the peace-stimulating dimension of cultural exchanges and intercultural understanding, beaming out her message that ‘sport and art are like sun and moon’, they are both ‘the source of our well being’. Pyeongchang’s presentation was headed up by IOC member Dr Un Yong Kim, veteran sport campaigner for and boss of taekwondo, and chair of the association of international federations. Kim and the bid committee’s chairman offered full government support for the extensive construction programmes that would be essential, support confirmed soon after by prime minister Kun Goh. Further presenters emphasised the projected venue’s nickname, Peace City, and the universality of winter sports. The bid talked up the theme of a Games for all based upon fundamental principles of Peace and Humanity. Much was also made of the potential of the Games to further the process of the uniting of the two Koreas. Across all the bids ran a theme of dreams come true, grafted on to a commitment to peace and a form of humanitarianism in which Olympism could show the way forward beyond some of the most pressing problems of the age.

At every such presentation, ceremony and vote, it is clear that the appeal is never to simple economic benefits, or infrastructural upgrading, or national sentiment. Something else is claimed for the Olympics, something transcendental in relation to the grubby materialism of everyday life. A strange, spiritual sense comes to pervade the proceedings. At such moments, criticizing the Olympics is akin to laughing out loud in church.

Global culture, global sport: the Olympic Games as a global cultural event

Sociologists and social historians of sport have long recognised the centrality of the Olympics in any historical narrative of the rise and spread of international sport. Miller et al. observe how as forms of televison-based popular culture, events such as the Olympics provide ‘a crucial site where populations are targeted by different forms of governmental and commercial knowledge/power’.(2) They ask us to attempt to imagine such an event stripped of all the familiar cultural and political symbols that have become so familiar to worldwide audiences:

No comprehensive media coverage, no national flags flying, no playing of national anthems, no politicians involved in the ceremonies, no military displays, no tables comparing national standings, and athletes competing in whatever clothing they desired instead of national uniforms. (3)

It is of course difficult to achieve this act of the imagination. A deeply entrenched and historically claimed symbolism of co-existing national rivalries, perpetuated alongside the commercially-branded later cases of the corporatized Games, is one of the taken-for-granted mediated mega-events of contemporary global culture. Maurice Roche locates this merging of the commercial and the political on the level of global consumer culture:

Mega-events have had, and continue to have, an important role to play in the development of this global consumer culture through their long-established promotion of what I refer to … as ‘touristic consumerism’. They also contribute to understandings and experiences of ‘one world’ through their capacity to carry universalistic meanings and ideals. These include those associated with he benefits of peaceful cultural exchange between nations, ethnic and ideological communities (expos and Olympics), scientific and technological ‘progress’ (expos), human ‘progress’ and the value of personal and national achievement and recognition through rule-governed competition (Olympics and sport). (4)

Mega-events such as the Olympics are, for Roche, quintessential phenomena of global modernity, ‘intrinsically complex processes’ which combine the interests of political and economic elites and professionals from the increasingly supra-national cultural industries. These interlocking elites operate on a number of levels, Roche goes on: ‘within and between urban, national and international levels … working together in a medium-term time-horizon both to produce the events and to manage their effects’ (5).

The Olympics are, of course, more than mere reflections of social processes and trends. They are formative as well as formed, pointing the way towards new cultural formations and as such important indices of change and cultural transformation. Maguire identifies the last quarter of the nineteenth-century as a major phase in ‘the international spread of sport, the establishment of international sports organizations, the growth of competition between national teams, the worldwide acceptance of rules governing specific sport forms and the establishment of global competitions such as the Olympic Games’. (6) In this list, it is the Olympics and the very grandeur of the scale of the conception of de Coubertin (the Rénovateur), that constitutes a project of seriously globalizing proportion and potential, ridden with contradictions (Tomlinson, 1984) rooted in de Coubertin’s aristocratic, imperialist, patriarchal roots, but nevertheless premised on a vision of an increasingly networked, compressed and orchestrated global culture. As Maguire also notes, the Olympic Games continue to provide a stage on which can be played out some of the recurring tensions of global politics. The West ‘still has hegemonic control in the global sport figuration’ but for non-Westerners a ‘main source of potential dispute may well be the Olympic Games’. (7) Miller et al. note the strong opposition of the Third World to the ‘undemocratic ways’ of the IOC’s international Court of Arbitration for Sport. (8) And the Games have provided, case after case through their history, an opportunity for the expression of national identity. Bairner has reaffirmed how, on the level of the national, different statements can be made to a world audience, in the context of the Olympics, about what it is to be American or Canadian. (9)

The Olympics operate therefore as a focus for the articulation of serious national and global political dynamics, and as a giant billboard for the elite crop of multi-national corporations that are the preferred sponsorship partners of the International Olympic Committee. These political and economic dimensions are interconnected and serve the interests of what Miller et al. (2001) call the New International Division of Cultural Labour, which operates in the context of ‘five simultaneous, uneven, interconnected processes which characterize the present moment in sport: Globalization, Governmentalization, Americanization, Televisualization, and Commodification (GGATaC)’. (10) Listing all these processes may be a disservice to crisp English prose, but it is an important reminder that the economic, the political and the cultural are not separate dimensions of phenomena such as the Olympics. Studying the global reach of events such as this requires an analytical approach sensitive to the ways in which these dimensions intermesh.

Recognition of the profile of the Olympic Games is well-established in the scholarly circles of the historical and social scientific analysis of sport. The Games are not, though, always seen to be of great significance in more general approaches. In his analysis of the transnational capitalist class, one of Sklair’s main propositions is that ‘the globalization of the capitalist system reproduces itself through the profit-driven culture-ideology of consumerism’. (11) He makes no mention of the IOC, and the Olympic Games is mentioned only in footnotes, in terms of some of its policy developments around green issues and the environment, (12) and as an example of the increase in sport sponsorship of international sporting events. (13) Sklair’s analysis is on the macro-level of the workings and reach of transnational companies and capital, which he sees as powerfully entrenched in their positions: ‘No social movement appears even remotely likely to overthrow the three fundamental institutional supports of global capitalism that have been identified, namely the TNCs, the transnational capitalist class, and the culture-ideology of consumerism’. (14) The Olympics is in some senses, from this scale of macro perspective, just one example of the operationalization of the practices and ideologies of global capital and the trans-national companies that dominate the centres of international capital. It is not surprising therefore that they are not acknowledged to be any more or less interesting or important than any other such exemplar. More surprising is the total absence of any discussion of the Olympic Games or international sports-media events in the work of John Tomlinson. Tomlinson’s major themes are connectivity in a world characterized by ‘a particular and exaggerated sense of proximity’, aided by a form of ‘high-profile globalizing technology’, all with the potential to ‘change the nature of localities’. (15) Central concerns in his book are deterritorialization, hybridization, mediated communication and its consequences for cultural experience, and the question, or possibility, of cosmopolitanism. Those of us working consistently on sport would find it hard to ignore the Olympics as a major example through which to explore such themes, and associated themes, derived from Anthony Giddens, of time-space distanciation and its implications for people’s experience of place. Tomlinson cites shopping malls as examples of what Giddens has called the ‘phantasmagoric’ nature of modern places. Olympic villages and stadia, Olympic parks and sites could equally usefully be viewed as illuminating cases of such places.

Generally, although Olympic scholarship has generated extremely valuable histories, contemporary studies and critical interventions – far too vast a range of sources to be meaningfully listed here – a challenge remains. This is the straightforward challenge of re-locating critical analyses of the Olympic phenomenon within the context of debates concerning the nature of international cultural politics, the operation of the interests of trans-national companies and international capital, and the nature of international sport’s relation to global consumer culture and international markets. Any such challenge should reconsider the balance of forces that have combined to make the Games, and the so-called Movement of which the Games are an embodiment, an international phenomenon of such profile, impact and longevity.

The Olympic Games 1896-2008

The simple facts of the growth of the Olympic Games are widely established, in an expanding line-up of events, participants, media personnel, media coverage and worldwide spectators and television viewers. But the story of the survival and eventual expansion into everyday global consciousness of the Games was not an even one. Early Games after the inaugural success in Athens in 1896 were linked to expos. (16) In Paris in 1900 and in St. Louis in 1904 events with few spectators were marginal peripheral aspects of great trades shows, celebrations of expanding international trade markets. As high-profile cultural events they were insignificant flops. London in 1908 recaptured some of the revivalist momentum of the de Coubertin project. The British Olympic Association had been created in 1905, allocated a seat on the IOC, and with its well-established athletics organisation in the form of the Amateur Athletics Association it could respond to a desperate IOC, looking for a replacement host city in 1906 when Rome had withdrawn just two years before the event. The Franco-British Exhibition of 1908 became the saviour of the Olympic idea. Though by the final day 90,000 turned out to witness the marathon race, spurred on by a media picking up on British-American athletic rivalries, the event was again a marginal appendage. It is interesting to look closely at some of the surviving documentation of the time. (17)

The programme for the 1908 Olympic Games featured no Olympic logos or signs, and had no mention of the Olympics at all on the cover, which featured a high-jumper clad in classic white athletic kit, in an insert inside a kind of pseudo-classical door or arch-way: the programme is headlined The Great Stadium, Shepherd’s Bush, London - Franco-British Exhibition 1908 6d. The Olympic Games and the ‘4th. International Olympiad’ are not billed until page 2, after the first page advertisement for Robinson’s ‘Patent’ Barley Water: in the ad, a polo-player is served by a man-in-waiting, horses are held by others looking on: ‘For any violent exercise, BARLEY WATER is the best THIRST-QUENCHER when properly made’ from R’s Patent Barley. The IOC and the BOA committee line-ups feature on the third and fourth pages. The athletic contests scarcely feature in the programme. The event was seized upon by a range of advertisers, with advertisements for a range of products: a Pear’s Soap baby on the back cover, McVitie’s digestives, healing balm called Zam-Buk, a raincoat, Bryant and May/Swan Vestas matches, Gamage’s equipment, Piggott and Ward retailers, ‘Read’s Olympian Oils – The Marvellous Pain Reliever and Muscle Strengthener’ at a shilling and 2/6, available from 90 Victoria Street SW, golf balls, embrocine medication (‘An antiseptic and disinfectant spirit’ that ‘makes old people feel young’); and Schweppes Dry Ginger Ale and Lemonade & Soda Water. Already, we see associations between athletic competition and lifestyle self-improvement consumer products. The financial potential of the Olympics was very much untapped in London’s first Olympics, but the commercial dimension and potential of the event was clearly recognised.

Alongside this commercial dimension, in the promotional literature of the British Olympic Committee, an idealised rhetoric of Olympism claimed that the Ancient Games ‘formed a bond between widely scattered members of the Greek race; they fostered throughout the Greek world a sense of kinship and a consciousness of common ideals which not even war was able to obscure’, and that the revival of the Olympics could foster an adaptation of fruitful past ‘principles of bringing together the chosen athletes of all nations in the strength of their youth and in the prime of their manhood to learn in the chivalrous and friendly rivalry of athletic contests that mutual respect and esteem, which are the only sure basis of International concord’. On this basis, the BOC desired ‘that the celebration should be worthy of the Motherland of International Sport’. The 1908 London Games confirmed the fragile cultural and economic basis of the Olympics, and provided some basis for the consolidation of the project in Stockholm in 1912. The Games after the 1914-18 Great War (Antwerp 1920, Paris 1924, Amsterdam 1928) remained on a relatively modest scale, though the US presence was becoming increasingly dominant, and included powerful statements of athletic prowess by women athletes. In Amsterdam in 1928, G. Van Rossem, secretary general of the Netherlands Olympic Committee and compiler of the official report of the Games, (18) could write proudly that the press needs were catered for by setting up a Press Section. The Press Stand could seat 600. ‘In front of many of the seats there were small folding tables on which a typewriter could be placed or notes made’ (p.247). The account of the provision of the media facility conveys the modest scale of the event, yet also the excitement of applying the new communications technology to the international sporting event:

[Next to the] post and telegraph office a room was fitted out in which the journalists could prepare urgent reports and telegrams. The writing tables being partitioned off so that each journalist could work without interfering with the others … offices were fitted out at the Heerengracht and in De Groote Club, where all communiqués could be found, where the journalists could work, where they could obtain all the information they desired, and where, thanks to the management of the club, they could take their meals … Further, there were 5 telephone booths installed in the office at the Heerengracht. This measure was not necessary in the Kalverstraat office owing to its being in the close vicinity of the General Post office, where ample provision was made. (pp. 248-9)

The national Olympic association was not averse to a little self-publicity either, and ‘occasionally propagative articles on Holland in general and Amsterdam in particular with suitable photos were sent out for publication, and in this connexion much assistance was afforded by the “Society for making Holland better known abroad” and by the Dutch Touring Club’. (p.253)

The Committee also took a stance on a case of competing media interests, at a time when the written press was still for many the first source of contact with news and information, and in this case the outcome of sporting encounters:

At the request of the Association Internationale de la Presse Sportive, the Committee gave up the idea of broadcasting results of the events, as the Association pointed out that this would be hardly fair to journalists whose papers had gone to much expense and trouble to send representatives to the Games. If the foreign papers had not done this, there would not have been the propaganda made for the Games in particular and Holland in general, which there was undeniably, due to personal visits. (p.255)

The official report catalogued the scale of communications activity. 14,480 telegrams were sent from the Press Bureau in the Stadium. Athletics (1,166) and the Marathon (1,058) days generated most telegrams in the second period. Football (441) and hockey were the busiest days of the first period. You can sense the excitement at how these Olympics began to experiment with people’s expectations of time and space:

The excitement which prevailed in connexion with the results of the contests and the extraordinary energy evinced by the journalists in their efforts to report to their papers as quickly as possible caused a sort of sporting rivalry among the telegraphists at Amsterdam. It was due to this fact that messages regarding the match Uruguay-Argentine were cabled from Amsterdam via New York to Buenos Aires in about 40 seconds. This incident was unique in the annals of the telegraph service and therefore deserves special mention. (p.256)

Three hundred and seventeen journalists were present during the first period of the Games. In the second period this increased to 490 and 616 respectively. At times there was pressure on space. Smaller press stands at some venues limited the number of these journalists admitted. Only 261 could cover fencing, 138 wrestling and weight-lifting, and 196 swimming. Amsterdam 1928 marks the beginning of a transformation, with international communications demonstrating the potential to speak for the internationalism of the event itself, and the national interests of the host and participating nations.

If the first eight Summer Olympics Games were relatively low-profile, politically and commercially, the Games of the 1930s were more overtly political and expressive of national interests. In this sense, the Games from 1932 to 1984 can be seen as more explicitly political projects, in the 1920s and 1930s matched by the Soviet experiments in the use of sport for display and propaganda. It was in 1928, the year of the Amsterdam Olympics and a year in which Joseph Stalin was manoevering his way to power, that ‘the USSR produced its own large-scale international Olympic-type multi-sport event in Moscow, the first “Spartakiad” a combination of sport event and mass festival’. (19) The second Spartakiad was held in Moscow in 1932. For the next twelve Olympic Games – Los Angeles, 1932; Berlin 1936; London, 1948; Helsinki, 1952; Melbourne, 1956; Rome, 1960; Tokyo, 1964; Mexico, 1968; Munich, 1972; Montreal, 1976; Moscow, 1980; and Los Angeles, 1984 – the political stakes became higher and higher. This included the exploitation of the 1936 Games in the cause of fascism and Nazism, and after the Second World War the use of the Games to fuel Cold War rivalries, once the Soviet Union was permitted into the party. The Olympics also offered nations the possibility of rehabilitation into the world community (Italy, Japan and Germany). Across this phase of the Olympic story, the explicit political motivation of intensely national interests catapulted the Games onto a new level, once the survival had been achieved in the London 1948 Games. The Games represented the wider sport cultures of the nations that participated in them. In 1929 Mussolini sought to win the 1936 Games for Rome, and at Berlin in 1936 failed again in a bid to stage the 1940 Games. But this hardly stopped the fascist sport project established by Mussolini. His regime celebrated high-profile Italian victories in Europe’s first football World Cup Finals in 1934 and 1938, but the general sports project was operative across a range of levels .

In a 1933 booklet on the ‘International University Games’, (20) we have access to a discourse on the young sporting body that combines the claimed idealism of international brother- and sisterhood with the fascist project of Il Duce, Benito Mussolini. The rhetoric and hyperbole of the booklet repays close scrutiny. On its front cover it features a downhill skier, on its back cover a rower (in very modernist, sharp and angular imagery, canoe in the water looking like the spout of 1970s supersonic aircraft Concorde). Inside the booklet, the photograph on the title page is of an obelisk of Mussolini, and the Italian national flag. The opening photograph in the booklet proper is of the Mussolini Stadium.

The text of the booklet begins with a paeon to Romantic writers, then asserts that ‘there are many new things in Italy and one more important than the rest, Italy is today the youngest country in Europe, with young people aged 20 or under making up 43% of the population’. It reports the ‘wonderful progress made by Italy in this field of human activity’, sport – its profile in the 1932 LA Olympic Games, Grand Prizes in other countries in motor-cars, horse shows, football matches, swimming, fencing – ‘it is the result of ten years of the Fascist Regime which places in the front rank the health and the physical improvement of the Italian race … the spirit of the Italian masses has been physically changed … and successful efforts made to give a sporting education to young men which will strengthen their muscles today and mould their character in the future’.

French writer D. Chappert is quoted, writing in a leading Paris newspaper, telling his country’s and Europe’s liberals that they shouldn’t be afraid to recognize and admire Italy’s sports development, for sport there has become as important as anti-TB campaigns, draining marshlands, building hospitals, roads and schools: ‘it is animated by the same spirit that inspired the unearthing of the glorious remains of ancient Rome and the development of aviation; sport has today become the real means of national education and stadia, sporting fields and swimming pools are being everywhere and democratically placed at the disposal of Italian youth’. Chappert’s hymn to youth becomes an apologia for the fascist project:

Those entrusted with the direction of this great movement justly place university students in the front rank of the great mass of the young men they are training, almost as if they represented the real youth of the country. Youth, is in fact the title of a hymn that has become national, and it is considered as the inexhaustible source of new energies and therefore placed at the head of this renewed country. The Duce perfectly realizes that he can fully rely on this group of keen and intelligent young men fanatical for the greatness of their country, its glory and its mission in the world. It may be a case of collective enthusiasm, a Latin exaggeration or a Mediterranean microbe… but all the same it implies a great material organization and a practical and moral work of preparation.

Youth’s foremost place in national life in fascist Italy in the 1920s and 1930s led to the organization of élite groups within the academy: Fascist University Groups (FUGs), ‘initiated in 1920, side by side with the Fascist squads of action’. The latter were later incorprated into the National Party and then into the Regime, and the FUGs retained their university base, soon reaching 55,000 in number and acquiring ‘the character, both as regards culture and sport, of the most complete National Union in Europe’. FUGs were promoted in their ‘sporting education’, lectures, travel, cruises international exchanges and reunions – ‘Italian University students have acquired the conscience and pride of their status and they are now united in a mass of disciplined energies, from which the State and the Party have already selected with successful results, men of inexhaustible loyalty to fill positions of trust’.

Youth were also inculcated into the Yearly Littoriali Sporting Competition, first held in Bologna in ‘the X year of the Fascist Regime’. These were designed to create and reaffirm the sporting masses, and to award prizes according to numbers and discipline and not just first places, and cultivate ‘sporting spirit as a whole’, reinforcing too the achievements of the first ten years of the Fascist Regime, during which 58 stadia and 493 sporting fields were built, and 3,500 sporting associations organized. It was the second time that Italy was preparing for these International University Games, after successfully staging them in 1928. For the 1933 event, the construction of the largest stadium in the country was planned for Turin. In Rome, the Forum of Mussolini was constructed for athletic exercises, staged in front of 20,000 spectators, ‘surrounded with large marble figures of athletes in repose each one representing a branch of sport. This harmonious construction recalls Graeco-Roman buildings of a similar character and its situation on the green hills of Monte Mario, is bound, even during sporting exercises … inspiring them with the higher ideals of physical and spiritual beauty as was the case in past epochs’. These Games, held in Turin from 1-10 September 1933, were an encomium to the fascist project. All the youthful idealism in the world could not undermine the prime political project. Italy, the booklet concluded, was sure that the Games would generate ‘that serene and sincere spirit of comradeship and that spiritual and sporting brotherhood which unite the youth of the entire world in a real and great “internationale”’.

Arriving from anywhere else in the world that autumn in 1933, you might have swallowed the rhetoric of the Italian state and authorities, have understandably seen yourself as a representative of a noble internationalist ideal. But from the acceptance of the invitation onwards, and certainly from the moment you entered the Turin stadium, your sporting idealism was appropriated – ‘arrogated’, as I have often called this process with reference to the Olympic ideal. (21) Your sporting body would be speaking for the apologists of the Italian political project. Even winning would not change this. For all of Jesse Owens’s gold medals and dignity in 1936, it made no difference whatsoever to the momentum of the Nazi project. In such cultural moments and spaces the body is an instrument of the ideology on the basis of which the sporting practice has been planned and produced. The Olympics inscribe wider cultural projects and ideologies. All the Olympic hyperbole in the world does not alter this. In the explicitly nationalist second phase in the history of the Olympic Games, they prospered primarily on the basis of their usefulness as a vehicle for the articulation of political meanings and national rivalries. But as the Olympic project veered from crisis to crisis in the crisis-ridden‘M’ years from 1968 to 1980, rocked by political protest, terrorist incursions, unprecedented losses and major boycotts, it was its combined commercial potential and political use as shown in the 1984 Games that secured its future as a mega-event of the televisual age. It was fitting that the Games marking the transformative point of these phases in Olympic history were both staged in Los Angeles.

Reporting 225 million dollar profits, based on restoration of facilities as much as new provision, celebrating the values of the free Western world after boycotting Moscow in 1980, and producing opening and closing ceremonies based on sheer Hollywood razzmatazz, the LA Games marked a point of transformation in the cultural staging and underpinning political economy of world sport. It was the first Games held under the presidency of Juan Antonio Samaranch, and launched the Games into a new phase of development hand-in-hand with television companies willing to pay unheard-of sums to cover the events, and economic partners paying huge sums for their exclusive sponsorship status and rights in the TOP (the Olympic programme) scheme. (22) From that point on, the Games were guaranteed a future as one of the most high-profile global commodities. The Seoul Games (1988) carried on the political mission of host cities, but the cultural-commercial-economic rebalancing of interests was best encapsulated in the cases of Barcelona (1992) and Sydney (2000), sandwiched by the attempt of Atlanta (1996) to reconfigure the worldwide audience’s perception of US geography. The Games of this third phase were immersed in a developmental cultural logic of economic regeneration and global self-promotion of cities and states, justified widely and recurrently on the basis of some amorphous spiritual value of benefit to all of humankind. This logic continues to fuel the scramble to win the right to host the Games, with some of the world’s top cities lining up in 2003 to do battle to win the 2012 Games.


G’day: Sydney 2000

Sydney was desperate to secure the 2000 Summer Olympics, to claim the first games of the new millennium. It was clear in its bidding documentation as to its motives.(23) The main features of Sydney’s bid as outlined in the Candidature File were:
1. concentration of venues in Homebush, 14 sports there , plus press centre and village: ‘Sydney Olympic park was to be the largest concentration of venues in Olympic history’.
2. many sports in Sydney Harbour Zone, yachting on the Harbour, six sports in Darling Harbour area: ‘the fifth largest Olympic precinct in history’.
3. all athletes in the one Olympic village in the park ‘for the first time in Olympic history’.
4. all venues within 30 minutes of Olympic Park.
5. focus on needs of athletes in all aspects of planning.
6. ‘to overcome fears about distance, transport costs to Sydney for all athletes and officials would be met by the Sydney Organising Committee, in addition to free accommodation and meals in the Olympic Village’.
7. ‘the freight costs of canoes and kayaks, rowing shells, yachts and all horses would be met by the Sydney Organising Committee’.
8. Sydney ‘a low security risk with no known threats to the safety of the Olympic Family’.
9. ‘a four-year arts festival program with a particular focus on Australia’s indigenous and multicultural heritage’.
10. ‘the sheer physical beauty, the warmth of its people and the temperate climate of Sydney were also highlighted as providing a perfect location for the Olympic Games’.

And Sydney’s bid ‘broke new ground in promising the most “environmentally friendly” Olympic Games in history’ (Official Report, p.19) developing guidelines later adopted by the IOC as the standard for Summer Olympic environmental policies. Crucially, the bid committee devised a sophisticated and comprehensive program of lobbying IOC members. IOC members made visits to Sydney to be ‘briefed on the plans and to inspect progress’, and 65 IOC members visited Sydney at the invitation of the bid committee, not counting delegates to the GAISF (the gathering of international sports federations) conference in the city in October 1991.

And the lobbying certainly paid dividends. On 23 September 1993, 5 bidding cities made final presentations of 30 minutes each with 15 minutes for questions. Berlin, Sydney, and Manchester started in the Monte Carlo line-up. Features of Sydney’s presentation included: Olympic film footage, score to Waltzing Matilda, Kevin Gosper the IOC v-p and Australian Olympic Committee member speaking on the Olympics and Australia’s unbroken attendance record, and showing the commitment of the country in this third consecutive Australian bid. John Fahey, New South Wales president, ‘committed the NSW government to financially guarantee the Games, and carefully illustrated the solid, modern infrastructure already in place in Sydney, and stated concern for the environment. John Coates of the Australian Olympic Committee stressed ‘The Athletes’ Games’, emphasising in particular the great ‘centre stage’ of harbour sites, the centrality of the Park, and the scope of the Olympic Village. Kieren Perkins, Barcelona 1500m freestyle gold medallist, spoke on freedom, safety, comfort for athletes, and ‘a clean, healthy environment’. The fifth speaker was an 11-year old Sydney schoolgirl, Tanya Blencowe: ‘Sydney is a friendly city where it doesn’t matter where you come from. We are all Australians together. We eat together, learn together and play sport together. And that’s what the Olympic Games really mean to me. It’s bringing the young people of the world together to celebrate sport and friendship’. The Prime Minister Paul Keating made three main points: he lauded the Australian love of sport, freedom and democracy; claimed Australia as a representative of the Asia-Pacific region; and reaffirmed the city as an ideal venue for a safe games. ‘Annita Keating followed her husband to the microphone. Dutch-born Mrs Keating spoke as a representative of the 25 per cent of all Australians born overseas, and of the 140 cultures found in Sydney, which she described as a “welcoming community” with a spirit of “friendliness and fun.” She repeated the final sentence of her speech in both French and Italian, a gesture to which the audience reacted warmly’ (Sydney Official report, p.20). The last speaker was the leader of the bidding team, Rod McGeoch, who reiterated the key messages, cited the Olympic ideals and charter, and closed with a suitably oleaginous appeal: ‘Mr. President, on behalf of our entire team, on behalf of all Australians, and on behalf of all the peoples of Oceania, we humbly submit the Sydney 2000 bid’.

IOC voting proceeded thus:
City Round 1 Round 2 Round 3 Round 4
Sydney 30 30 37 45
Beijing 32 37 40 43
Manchester 11 13 11 -
Berlin 9 9 - -
Istanbul 7 - - -

The Australian bid came from behind, helped by bribery and late vote switches, to win in the last round. No-one knows the real cost of winning this bid and staging the event. Rome might have pulled out of the 1906 Games with just two years to go, but if you win the right to stage a modern Games you simply have to make it happen. Just weeks before the Games, organizers were requesting and getting hundreds of millions of dollars from the New South Wales Government.

Sydney 2000 was the Bumper Summer Olympics. It welcomed more than 11,000 athletes, several thousand officials and coaches, and as the 16 days whizzed by estimates of the number of mediafolk in town reached 21,000, although official estimates had been initially put at around 15,000. Athens 2004 plans to cater for 18,000 media. The Main Press Centre at the Olympic Park was vast, and the International Broadcast Centre was dominated by US broadcaster NBC, which had paid 705 million US dollars for the rights, and mobilized a workforce of more than 2,000. More athletes, more sports, more professionals. Bigger, bigger, bigger.

The International Olympic Committee claims that the vast majority of the world’s population able to access a television will have watched the action, the opening ceremony pulling in several billion – though such claims are beyond corroboration, and more reputable estimates by independent researchers have put the figure at rather less than half the one trumpeted by the IOC. But it is beyond dispute that the summer Olympic Games does claim one of the biggest television audiences of all time. Australians, and Sydneysiders especially, responded to the Games with passion and a determination to shout for and support their own competing hopefuls, and then in the 24 hour pubs of Pyrmont and the like to party through till dawn. Australian Gold was won by the scantily clad blonde women beach volleyballers at Bondi Beach, by the muscular concrete-pillar necked water polo girls in the Aquatic Centre, as well as by the beach bums of the swimming squads and the fated and feted bridge to Aboriginal/Australian reconciliation, 400-metre gold medallist and lighter of the Olympic flame, Cathy Freeman.

When the big hopes were competing, the venues were a sell out and the great live sites of Sydney – Circular Quay, Martin Place in the Central Business District, Tumbalong Park at Darling Harbour, Pyrmont Park, The Domain atop the Royal Botanical Gardens, Belmore Park at Central Station – were throbbing with nationalist enthusiasm. The home crowds were raucously supportive of their Australian hopes, and always ready with a jeer and a boo for the athletes from the UK and the US. If there was no serious Australian competitor in an event, the crowd cheered any compatriot it could locate. At the boxing, this gave a moment of celebrity to a number of Australian referees.

It was nevertheless enthralling seeing a nation of 20 million people chasing the USA and China in the medal table, and celebrating this by waving or being draped in a national flag dominated by the flag of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. The victorious side of the Olympics for the host nation quickly became a metaphor for both the reconciliation embodied in the dignified presence of Cathy Freeman, and the success of the new Australia of multi-cultural mix. The silver medal in the first-ever Olympic women’s pole vault was won by a blonde beauty from Adelaide, with the most New-Australian of names, Tatiana Grigorieva – complete too with a recent nose job by the look of it, maybe since she relocated herself from Russia in 1996. Many of the Australian women were blonde, leggy and en route to if not already packaged up in modelling contracts. Tatania had already got the glam shots of her, in far less than her pole-vaulting outfit, ready for the world press.

The organisers of the Games, the much maligned SOCOG (Sydney Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games) could claim an Olympic record in ticket sales, 80 odd per cent and above the sales figures for Atlanta 1996. But there weren’t many sell outs for the women’s soccer semis, or the softball preliminaries, or the Graeco-Roman wrestling, or the handball. In the bloated Olympic schedule you can always get to see something, be a part of the event. You won’t get into the best hotels in town, even if you're a regular. Writer and expatriate Australian Clive James could not get in his usual hotel as the main hotels in Sydney were completely taken over by the IOC and its Olympic ‘family’. Sydney 2000 has been widely hailed as a model event, the ‘best Games ever’ in the words of the outgoing Olympic president Samaranch. What can we glean from this picture of the Sydney bid and event, to account for the place of the Olympic Games in the global politics of sport? It is to this question that I turn in the concluding comments to this paper.

Concluding comments

To understand in any adequate fashion the social and cultural significance of the Olympic Games it is necessary to conduct the analysis on a number of levels: the historical, the national/local, the international/global, the economic, the political and the cultural. In the three main phases of the Olympic Games a grand socio-political project with a modest economic profile (1896-1928) was succeeded by a markedly political intensification of the event at the heart of international political dynamics (1932-1984). In the third phase (1984 onwards) the Olympic Games have been fuelled by the global reach of capital, which has held hands with the pseudo-universalist idealist hyperbole of an Olympism as it has sought to penetrate new international markets and re-image cities and regions in the international economy of a global culture.

Close consideration of the effects of Olympic Games upon the host city and the nation remains curiously inconsistent. But Seoul and Atlanta have hardly emerged as tourist hot-spots. Sydney has projected figures for increased tourism, but glances at them nervously two years on, realising the obvious point that the long, long-haul flights to Sydney from the lucrative tourist markets of North America and Western Europe are not so irresistible after all, despite the scenes from Sydney’s super September in 2000. Barcelona remains the serious contender to explain in any rational way the continuing attraction of staging the Olympics. Sustained studies have demonstrated the swing from business towards tourism in statistical profiles of visitors. High-spending US and Japanese tourists fill the expensive rooms of top Barcelona hotels. Catalanian nationalists still celebrate the profile achieved by the 1992 event for their region of Spain, and for their wider political cause and ambitions. The Olympic Village is walkable from the squares and ramblas of the city centre, contiguous to the Olympic Port. Here, night clubs attract young hedonists, vose cinema screenings attract the international English-language movie fan. The beach and harbour-side base of the Olympic facilities is a base for thousands of promenaders, flaneurs of all types, ages and nationalities on sunny weekends. The Olympic Stadium atop the majestic Montjuic Park stages rock concerts and regular Spanish football league matches. Barcelona knows it was worth it. Other cities convince themselves that it was, as they seek to reposition themselves in the global marketplace.

Understanding the significance of the Olympic Games in the global culture of advanced modernity is not so much about what is on the bloated and in part esoteric agenda of Olympic competition and activity programmes. It is about the global profiling of places and worldwide expansion of consumer markets. The Olympic Games, with all its ceremonial and ritual and tradition, its sucking-up to youth and internationalism, its preservation of the pristine purity of the Olympic Stadium, continues to be significant in the contemporary world because of its unique blend of the all-embracingly international, the passion for the celebration of national and/or regional identity, and the regular celebration of a global consumerism that attracts the sponsors to keep queuing up to be associated with the (however tarnished) five-rings of the Olympic logo so jealously and greedily guarded by the beneficiaries, luminaries and lawyers of the International Olympic Committee and its bogus Family.

The irrational motives that drive those still spellbound by the Olympic Games and its promises are based in the fascinating hold that the Olympics still has on the contemporary imagination, and are stimulated by the image that the Olympic Games can still convey of a world in which the most passionate national interests can be mobilized within a tolerant and inter-cultural internationalism. It is undeniable too that those feelings – manifestly exhibited in the avenues and passages of Barcelona, in the streets and places/squares of Sydney – are genuine and deeply felt. The Olympic Games may be in some senses absurd, cases of magnificent trivia (24) in the light-entertainment schedules of a mediated global culture. But they continue to provide a focus for the articulation of both a sense of national identity, and an international cosmopolitanism rooted in consumerism. Peculiarly, persisting across all the phases of the history of the Games is the rhetoric of spirituality, the claim that the Games fulfil some important expressive function over and above the politics and economics of the day. They have survived and in some undeniable sense prospered despite the shifting agenda of the event itself, and the many ways in which sport has changed. They have also been exposed as amoral or corrupt, unaccountable in ways widely typical of International Non-Government Organisations, but claiming to put the guilty house in order and get back on the ethical track, expelling a few bribe-takers and establishing an agenda for reform. At the level of sport practice and performance itself, the Olympics has represented as many lows as highs in terms of moral aspirations; and, as many world sports organisations would claim, and championships would demonstrate, the Olympics is not a consistent pinnacle of technical achievement. Yet despite three such persistent critiques, (25) they have survived and expanded. The rhetorical idealism of the Olympic movement, ideal and the like have certainly been arrogated to good effect by hosts of the Games, for uses internal to the needs of a city, region or nation; and for purposes of wider international self-promotion. But recurrently, the global religiosity at the core of the De Coubertin vision is repeddled, institutionally and individually. We see this in early messianic tributes to Olympism, in individual lives forged by a commitment to its ideals, and in the worldwide thinking of contemporary figures. The first programme for the 1932 Los Angeles Olympic Games featured an article by the president of the University of California.(26) For him, the religious elements of the ancient Greek Olympics provided a parallel to the Games’ modern mission: ‘May they promote the love of play, the reciprocity of good will, and the solvent of good sportsmanship in which shall be washed away the immemorial feuds of mankind that now obscure the goal that is nevertheless so surely there and so completely attainable, the goal of “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men”’. As on July 2 2003 the three cities slugged it out for the IOC vote for 2010, the contemporaneous exhibition in the Olympic Museum featured Ella Maillart, a pioneer of sporting Swiss womanhood. (27) Born in 1903, the ill-health of her childhood was reversed by a strength developed through sport, particularly the outdoor activities of sailing and ski-ing. But the sports were not only sources of physical well-being. They represented a spiritual journey, an essential aspect of her search ‘for her inner being, which she discovered in an ashram in Southern India when the Second World War had just broken out in Europe’. For Maillart, all her physical efforts on the mountain and the seas were a ‘search for foreign skies’, part of a quest integrating the physical and the spiritual. At an IOC education event during the Sydney Olympics, focused upon a review of the Olympic truce and a consideration of its potential for contemporary initiatives and interventions, the president of the United Nations, Kofi Annan, addressed the meeting on video. He praised the Olympics for the way it provided a sight of men and women of all types, a collection of human diversity and inclusiveness. Sport, he said, shares with world affairs more generally ‘the shared goal of a culture of peace’.

Making sense of the Olympics is no straightforward task. Much depends where you look, and I have argued elsewhere that the Olympic experience can be seen as comparable to the theme park or the Disney experience.(28) But the Olympic phenomenon remains underpinned by an enduring rhetoric of universalist spiritual idealism, and a persisting hold on the worldwide imagination. Combining this so successfully with an integrated powerful pull of the political, the cultural and the economic – as consolidated in the transformative phase after Los Angeles 1984 - the Olympic Games are likely to retain their extraordinarily prominent profile in the global cultural consciousness.


Notes

(1) This account of the 2010 bids is based upon my notes on the presentations, relayed live from Prague to the Auditorium of the Olympic Museum, Lausanne, Switzerland, throughout the day of July 2 2003.
(2) See Miller et al., 2001, p. 2.
(3) Miller et al., 2001.
(4) See Roche, 2000, p. 26.
(5) Roche, 2000, p. 233.
(6) Maguire, 1999, p. 88.
(7) Maguire, 1999, p. 92.
(8) Miller et al., 2001, p. 12.
(9) Bairner, 2000.
(10) Miller et al., 2001, p. 40.
(11) Sklair, 2001, p. 6.
(12) Sklair, 2001, p. 251.
(13) Sklair, 2001, p. 110.
(14) Sklair, 2001, p. 296.
(15) J. Tomlinson, 1999, p. 9.
(16) The following detail in this paragraph draws upon Roche, 2000.
(17) In doing so in what follows I draw upon the John Johnson Collection of Ephemera, at the Bodleian Library, Oxford.
(18) This detail on the 1928 Games draws upon Van Rossem, 1928.
(19) Roche, 2000, p. 105.
(20) The source is (E.N.I.T. G.U.F. 1933.XI), printed in Italy by the ENIT, Novissima, Roam, Edizione Inglesed, not paginated). I am grateful to the John Johnson Collection for access to this document.
(21) A. Tomlinson, 1999, pp. 217-18.
(22) A. Tomlinson, 2005, especially pp. 50ff.
(23) The Sydney detail draws upon the Official Report of the Games, consulted at the Olympic Museum, Lausanne, Switzerland.
(24) I first used the phrase ‘magnificent trivia’ in a plenary address to the Australian Drama Studies Association in Newcastle, New South Wales, in July 2000, when talking about spectacle and the Olympics - see Longworth, 2000, p. 16; and, later that year, more generally in relation to the Sydney Summer Olympics in September, referring to the media spectacle of the Games as ‘the most magnificent trivia that the world’s yet conspired to produce’ (See A. Tomlinson 2000, p. 220).
(25) Thanks to Lincoln Allison, editor of the book The global politics of sport: the role of global institutions in sport (London, Routledge: 2005), where a version of this article first appeared, for drawing out the distinction between these dimensions in response to the earliest of this paper presented in March 2003.
(26) This is in a copy of the programme consulted in the Olympic Museum, Lausanne, Switzerland.
(27) This exhibition was entitled ‘Ella Maillart 1903 –1997: Sportswoman; on the Roads of the East’.
(28) See A. Tomlinson, 2004.

References

Bairner, A. (2001) Sport, nationalism, and globalization – European and North American perspectives, Albany: State University of New York Press.

Longworth, K. (2000) ‘Olympic ceremonies “magnificent trivia”’, Newcastle Herald, July 7, p. 16.

Maguire, J. (1999) Global sport – identities, societies, civilizations, Cambridge: Polity Press.

Miller, T., Lawrence, G., McKay, J. and Rowe, D. (2001) Globalization and sport: playing the world, London: Sage.

Roche, M. (2000) Mega-events and modernity – Olympics and expos in the growth of global culture, London: Routledge.

Sklair, L. (2001) The transnational capitalist class, Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

Tomlinson, A. (1999) The game’s up: essays in the cultural analysis of sport, leisure and popular culture, Aldershot: Ashgate.

Tomlinson, A. (2000) ‘From the field: Sydney 2000 and an Olympics research agenda’, in M. Keech and G. McFee (eds) Issues and values in sport and leisure cultures, Oxford: Meyer & Meyer, pp. 207-227.

Tomlinson, A. (2004) ‘The Disneyfication of the Olympics? Theme Parks and freak shows of the body’, in J. Bale and M.K. Christensen (eds) Post-Olympism? Questioning sport in the twenty-first century, Oxford: Berg: pp. 147-163.
Tomlinson, A. (2005a) ‘The making of the global sports economy: ISL, Adidas and the rise of the corporate player in world sport’, in C.L. Cole, D. Andrews and M.L. Silk (eds) Sport and corporate nationalisms, Oxford: Berg, pp. 35-65.

Tomlinson, A. (2005b) ‘Magnificent trivia: Olympic spectacle, opening ceremonies and some paradoxes of globalization’, in Sport and leisure cultures, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 9-27.

Tomlinson, J. (1999) Globalization and culture, Cambridge: Polity Press.

Van Rossem, G. (ed) (1928) The Ninth Olympiad Being the Official Report of the Olympic Games of 1928 Celebrated at Amsterdam, issued by the Netherlands Olympic Committee (Committee 1928), translated by Sydney W. Fleming, J.H. De Bussy, Ltd. Printers and Publishers, Amsterdam (60-62 Rokin).

Further sources

Personal fieldwork notebooks (Sydney, Seoul and Barcelona).
IOC library/museum files and folders.
Specialist Collection of Ephemera – the John Johnson Collection, Bodleian Library, Oxford.

© Alan Tomlinson, November 2006

28 November 2006 in Observations on the Olympics | Permalink

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The commercialization of the Olympics: Cities, corporations and the Olympic commodity

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Introduction: the mixed economy and the nascent commercialization of the Olympic Games

The Olympics has become such a high-profile global phenomenon that it attracts some of the world’s most prominent cities and capitals to bid for the prize of hosting a Games, particularly the Summer Games. Recognising this, and not wanting to give its product away all in one go, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) separated the summer and the winter Games after the Barcelona Summer Games and the Albertville Winter Games of 1992. This decision had been taken in 1986, in the wake of the euphoria of the profile and the profitability of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics; and no doubt as a way of giving better value to those companies signing up to be preferred partners in the IOC’s new sponsorship programmes. The bidding process and the marketing strategy of the IOC might seem to be separate processes, but as the IOC has exploited its products in increasingly successfully ways in the two decades since the pivotal LA Games, it has become clearer that the processes are two dimensions of a single process: the intensifying commercialization and commodification of the Olympic product.

The spectre of commerce was conspicuous in its absence at the first Olympic Games staged after the Second World War. The president of the IOC, Avery Brundage, was a right-wing businessman from the USA; but he opposed with a messianic vehemence any moves to develop the Olympics on a more commercialized footing. Even at the time of his retirement, at the Munich Olympics in 1972, Brundage was still declaring that the IOC ‘should have nothing to do with money’ (Barney et al., 2002: 100). Stepping down as president, he observed that arguments over the distribution of money were destructive, threatening to ‘fracture the Olympic Movement’ (ibid.: 275).

The modern Olympics was from its inception vulnerable to the influence of commercial forces. De Coubertin, speaking at the University of Lauasanne in 1928, even opposed the escalation in the construction of stadiums: ‘Almost all the stadiums built in recent years are the result of local and, too often, commercial interests, not Olympic interests at all’ (De Coubertin, 2000: 184). The idealistic founder of the Olympics spoke against ‘athletics as a show’, implying that commercially-based large-scale events would corrupt the amateur spirit: drawing upon promotional budgets and generating large crowds to justify the investment in the event, ‘these oversized showcases are the source of the corruption at the root of the evil’ (ibid.: 184). Yet De Coubertin himself knew that his project needed to attract sponsors, and he was not averse to accepting some forms of commercial support. His publication Olympic Review, the IOC’s official bulletin, sported a full-page advertisement from a Parisian sporting goods manufacturer in the January 1901 issue. And alcohol helped him fund the October 1902 issue, when the French brandy maker Benedictine paid for a comparable advertising spread (Barney et al., 2002: 29). In 1924 in Paris the Olympic stadium was bedecked in advertisements for Ovalmaltine, Dubonnet, Cinzano, and many other commercial product labels; and the French Organizing Committee published a 320-page guide tot the Games containing advertisements on 256 of its pages, including ones for sporting goods and specialist alcoholic brands. (ibid.: 28). But the IOC was naïve and innocent in terms of the commercial exploitation of its product, which of course in a pre-television age was hardly a global brand. This was to leave the Olympics open to exploitation by bodies with a more basic commercial rationale. Barney et al. (2002: 31-49) document in meticulous detail the case that alerted the IOC to the dangers of leaving its product unprotected: the case of Helms’s Olympic Bread.

Paul H. Helms, head of Helms Bakeries of Los Angeles, founded in 1931, was a well-placed businessman who secured a contract from the Los Angeles Organizing Committee to supply bakery goods for the Olympic Village at the 1932 Olympic Games. But he also registered the marks of the Olympics in all states of the USA, for his own exclusive use: these included the five-ring symbol, the Olympic motto and the word Olympic itself (Barney et al., 2002: 33). Neither the IOC nor any other body had ever looked to register ownership of these marks. Carl Diem, manager of Germany’s Olympic team in Los Angeles, recommended Helms as the supplier for the Berlin Games of 1936. In 1948 Helms was the supplier in London. From 1938 the president of the United States Olympic Committee. Avery Brundage, did all he could to prevent Helms from continuing with his branding, but to little avail, as the visionary baker had watertight legal rights to what nobody else had sought to claim in law. Helms himself gave up his rights, in 1950, and his generosity allowed the IOC to both defend its products from commercial exploitation and, when the media potential of the event became clearer, to exploit its products more fully for its own financial interests.

It is illuminating that entrepreneurial operators from outside the IOC were the ones to see the potential of the commercialization process. In a later phase of this story, it was the German shoe-manufacturer Horst Dassler, of Adidas, setting up his company International Sports Leisure Marketing (ISL), who revolutionised Olympic finances. The new IOC president Juan-Antonio Samaranch learnt quickly from the model of sponsorship established by FIFA president Joao Havelange (Sugden and Tomlinson, 1988), and in late 1982 and 1983 ISL and the IOC established a partnership aimed at worldwide marketing of the Games, a lucrative further scoop for Dassler’s company that gave ISL global domination of arguably the world’s two biggest sports events (Simson and Jennings, 1992: 99-110; Tomlinson, 2004b). This was the beginning of the TOP (The Olympic Programme) marketing model that is still in place at the IOC, with the marketing deals established by and within the IOC itself since the early 1990s.

Before this potent combination of sponsorship and television revenues that could enrich the IOC and national Olympic committees, the Games still had to be paid for. Opaque finances of respective Games, and forms of hidden subsidy, ensured that, regardless of Brundage’s financial traditionalism, there were plenty of ways in which the US could continue in the post-Second World War period to dominate performances and results at the Olympics. At the 1948 event in London, where a record 59 nations participated, the USA continued its dominance of the medal tables. It topped the table at eight out of the eleven Summer Olympics from 1896 to 1948. In the other three it took second place: France pipped it in Athens in 1906, Great Britain romped home at the top of the table in London in 1908, and Germany took first place at the Berlin/Nazi Olympics of 1936 (Wallechinsky, 2000). Germany and Japan were not permitted to compete at the 1948 Games, the Soviet Union sent no team, and Sweden came a distant second in the table.

At the 1952 Olympic Games in Helsinki, no male member of the Soviet Union's first-ever Olympic track and field squad won an event. But Soviet men in events such as weightlifting and gymnastics competed fiercely for medals, winning several gold; and Soviet women set new levels of expectation in dominating the gymnastics events. At Melbourne in 1956 and Rome in 1960 the Soviet Union headed the national medal tables. The USA got top spot back in Tokyo and Mexico City in 1960 and 1968, the Soviet Union prevailing (with wider margins of dominance) in Munich in 1972 and Montreal in 1976. The Olympics had become a significant element of Cold War rivalry, the stakes raised in political terms. The political and economic basis of the Olympic Games was becoming debated and disputed in the context of this rising profile of the event. The USA-led boycott of the 1980 Moscow Games, stimulated by President Jimmy Carter in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan the previous year, saw 65 nations stay away, and only 80 participate. The top four positions in the Moscow medal table were occupied by the Soviet Union, the German Democratic Republic, Bulgaria and Cuba. In a tit-for-tat boycott the Soviet Union and thirteen other nations stayed away from Los Angeles in 1984 (not many nations, but they had gained 58% of the gold medals at the previous Games in North America, Montreal 1976). The USA strolled back to the top of the medal table, Romania an interesting boycott-defying second. At its last Summer Games in Seoul in 1988 and Barcelona in 1992, the Soviet Union was a comfortable leader back at the top of the table, the US third behind the GDR at Seoul and second again in Spain four years later, when a newly united Germany pushed up to third place.

This overview of the rivalries at the apex of Olympic performance is both a political narrative and an economic one. Developing competitive sport became seen as a political necessity by the world's two dominant superpowers. And this never came cheap. The key funding factor in the case of the two superpower rivals was the form of subsidy that the countries and appropriate institutions could provide. One English journalist, Larry Montague of the Manchester Guardian, observing the athletics contests at the 1952 Games, calculated that in a straight head-to-head 'the Americans ... would just about have beaten the rest of the world in running, jumping and throwing' (Brown, 1952: 143). Montague offered astute commentary on the basis of this US performance:

They owe their supremacy not only to their numbers, their brilliant individuals, and their sports scholarships at universities, but to their intense competition at home and their way of life, in which everyone desires to do everything better and quicker than anyone else; they do not see any limits to their achievement and as a result there are none. (Montague, in Brown, 1952: 143)

It is a powerful blend: an intense individualism spliced with national patriotic spirit, and institutionalised support in the university athletic system, funded by a combination of private and public sources. If any kind of reliable economic analysis could have been undertaken of the costs of such accomplishments in the middle of the twentieth-century, it would surely have confirmed that the rising profile of the Olympics was premised on massive economic subsidy, on ways of funding bogus amateurs who were in every real respect full-time athletes and potential tools of state ideology. In the Soviet Union, vaguely-defined professional roles and positions, in state-sponsored organizations and the military, provided an equivalent way to harness resources towards not-so-amateur athletes.

In the strictly amateur era athletes would not receive rewards for their achievements in any way comparable to the sponsored athlete of the future. The magnificent black athlete Jesse Owens - whose four records of 1936 were still intact after the 1952 Helsinki Games - was the son of a sharecropper, and hailed on his homecoming as a hero and a national and global celebrity in tickertape parades down New York City's Broadway, and in Cleveland. But his celebrity earned him virtually nothing, and he had to take a modestly remunerated job ($130 per month) as a playground instructor, and to run against horses, dogs and motorcycles. Endorsing a failed cleaning business, he found no financial security until moving into a public relations role and providing speeches on religion, patriotism and marketing for corporate sponsors (Wallechinsky, 2000: 7). Olympic champions had to look elsewhere for lucrative livings, not all with the success of the five gold-medal man (from 1924 and 1928) Johnny Weismuller, who was spotted in a photograph for his BVD Underwear Company employer, and instead of competing in the first Los Angeles Olympics went on to his film debut in 1932 in Tarzan, the Ape Man, and 11 more Tarzan films over the next 16 years (Wallechinsky, 2000: 696). Harold Sakata, the 1948 silver medallist in light heavyweight weightlifting, became better known and better off as the sinister, frightening Oddjob in the James Bond movie, Goldfinger (Wallechinsky, 2000: 847). There was a kind of hidden economy underpinning the early Olympics, a mix of state subsidy, amateur commitment and opportunistic self-promotion. For the athlete, this provided, particularly in market economies of the West, very little in the way of professional or financial security.

As the Cold War consolidated the status of the Olympics as a form of global cultural politics, a more explicit economic logic was to emerge as the Olympic events could be staged for worldwide media constituencies and an international television audience. The commercial potential of sport and sporting events was recognised for the entrepreneurial goldrush that it could become. New breeds of entrepreneur, marketing (mostly)-men, and media agents and agencies would change the basic economics of mediated competitive sport (Tomlinson, 2005). The Los Angeles Games of 1984 was a watershed for this, and the Olympic sponsorship scheme emerged co-terminously with Los Angeles's rewriting of the economic framework for staging an Olympics (Tomlinson, 2006; Tomlinson, 2004: 147-148). North American capital would come to dominate the macro-economics of the Olympics (Tomlinson, 2004: 160).

In the build-up to the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, widespread and intense debate centred upon the torch relay. As this pinnacle of Cold War Games warmed up the citizenry of the USA for its patriotic response, nationalistic fervour intensified as athletes, volunteers and celebrities jostled for the opportunity to carry the torch. But not all Olympians were equally enthused. This torch relay was unique in the extent to which it commercialized an Olympic ritual. The International Olympic Committee (IOC) offers its idealised conception of the genesis and significance of the torch:

The Olympic torch is a symbol taken from the ancient Olympic Games, during which a holy torch burned continuously on the altar of Zeus. Fire is thought to be purifying in most cultures. The Olympic torch is carried along a relay from Olympia to the host city, proclaiming the celebration of the world's greatest sporting festival. As it travels, it carries a spirit of peace and harmony, triggering a huge celebration in which the whole world participates. It is a strong symbol of the international dimension of the Games. (IOC, 2000: 38)

In its rewriting of the rules of staging the Games, though, the Los Angeles Olympics Organizing Committee (LAOOC) was ensuring that LA would not go down the road of Montreal 1976, which had accumulated colossal debt that would have to be paid for by the citizens of the city and Quebec for decades to come. In LA 1984 everything was for sale. And this included any bit of Olympic symbolism that could be peddled to the public via corporate sponsors - not always for the profit of the Games organizers, but nevertheless a commodification of the ritualistic elements of the Games. President of LAOOC, Peter Ueberroth, costed the privilege of carrying the torch at $3,000 per kilometre - to be donated to a charity of the participants' choice, not to go towards LAOOC costs - and though his plan was initially opposed by Ueberroth's 'entire senior management' (Reich, 1986: 43), Ueberroth himself was insistent that a three-month relay, involving 3,350 people across the country from New York , raising 10 million dollars for individually chosen charities and causes, would be incomparable pre-event marketing, whilst appealing to the American volunteering spirit (Ueberroth, 1985: 189-91). The LAOOC boss then had to persuade IOC personnel, and convinced the president Juan Antonio Samaranch and his top executives that selling the flame was not a 'commercialization of the relay', as no money would go to the organizing committee or the athletes. Ueberroth himself recalls that not all interested parties were so easily persuaded:

The Greeks weren't as understanding ... The Greek IOC members, Nikos Filaretos and Nikolaos Nissiotis, objected, claiming we were commercializing the flame. (Ueberroth, 1985: 192)

Ueberroth had done his homework and lobbying, though, with Samaranch pleading his case, and the Greeks were placated by LAOOC's provision of finances for the Greek 500-meter relay from Olympia to Athens, and the contribution of uniforms, shoes, torches and flags. And finally, to ensure that the organizing committee was not diverted from the main event, a sponsor would be found to fund the organization of the marathon event. This was communications giant AT&T. Each division - AT&T itself, Pacific Bell, AT&T Directory Services, AT&T Long Lines Division, Western Electric Company - signed sponsorship deals. All costs would be covered in the deal - maintenance, manpower, transport, and a squad of runners to run across landscapes where no $3,000 per kilometer runner could be found. For this, AT&T got the status of official sponsor, had national and international exposure in the build-up to and the staging of the Games, and could claim the best hotel rooms in town, reserved by the organizing committee, and blocks of tickets for blue-riband events. The selling of the torch relay was framed as a community initiative, mobilising thousands of volunteers, raising almost $11 million. For AT&T, though, it was first and foremost a commercial proposition.

There is nothing pure and fixed about Olympic rituals and symbols, once operationalized beyond the annals of official IOC rhetoric. The torch relay itself was first staged in 1936, for the Berlin or Nazi Olympics. But the selling of the torch, the sponsoring of the relay was unambiguous testimony to an unbridled commercialization on which the Olympics would then be based. After the Hamburger Olympics (Gruneau, 1984), at which McDonald's funded the new swimming/diving facility, and in the time of an IOC leadership that from the early and mid-1980s onwards targeted hugely increased sponsorship strategies, the Olympics would be a draw for cities lured by the 1984 success and the reported profits of the privatized Games. Los Angeles wrote a new script for the economics of the Olympics. The LAOOC's official record is straightspeaking on this:

It was noted that for past Games, the top sources of funds had been direct government subsidies, receipts from lotteries and Olympic commemorative coin programs, and then television rights sales, ticket sales and the sale of sponsorships. Direct government subsidies were unavailable to the LAOOC, and lotteries were then illegal in the state of California. ... the planning focused on sources in the private sector: television revenues, sponsorships and ticket sales. (Perelman, 1985: 116)

The audited results (March 1985) of the event showed the astounding success of this commercial strategy. Broadcasting rights generated $286,794,000; ticket sales, $139, 929,000; sponsorship and licensing, $126,733,000; the coin program, $35,985,000; interest income, $76,319,000; and other sources such as non-monetary contributions, revenue from ticket-handling charges and accommodations, $102,884,000. Operating expenses were $398,394,000; payments for venue and facility use, $97,389,000; and expenses to the International Olympic Committee, $50,145,000. The accounts made joyful reading to sports entrepreneurs and elated politicians: no huge infrastructural costs, a willing and costless army of volunteers that eliminated significant labour costs. And the outcome, a surplus of $222,716,000. The United States Olympic Committee got 40% of this whopping 'excess of revenues over expenses' (Perelman, 1985: 119). Twenty per cent went to national governing bodies of sports in the USA. The rest went to the Los Angeles Organizing Committee Amateur Athletic Foundation for sport promotion and development.

The LA model looked irresistible, and turned around the fortunes and the futures of the IOC and its product. Cities, corporations and consumers would become the primary partners as the commercial logic of the Olympics produced a formula for the event's continuing profile and escalation in a post-Cold War world. It was not a simple or watertight economic model, and government subsidies would certainly be drawn upon for future Games, in Seoul, Barcelona and Sydney. But the central characteristic of the model was the commercialization of the event, a ruthless commodification of the product, only possible in a wholesale abandonment of the amateur principle and ethos underpinning earlier Games, alongside a recognition that just as the Games themselves were fully exploited for their commercial potential, athletes themselves could make the most of their individual market potential. This commercial logic is considered more analytically in the concluding section of this chapter. Prior to that, a selectively descriptive portrayal of the main partners in this calculus shows the extent of this transformation in the political economy of the Olympics over the two decades following on from the Hamburger Olympics. It will be shown how cities are chosen not on the basis of any core Olympian value, but more as appropriate settings for the consumer bonanza that the Games have now become; and how official Olympic sponsors universalize contemporary Olympism as a form of global consumerism (Roche, 2000: 26-7).

Cities

In the early summer of 2004, nine cities still hoped to be awarded the prize of the right to host the Summer Olympic Games of 2012. These were Havana, Istanbul, Leipzig, London, Madrid, Moscow, New York, Paris, and Rio de Janeiro. In Lausanne in May 2004 four of these cities were eliminated: Havana, Istanbul, Leipzig and Rio. The surviving cities comprised a litany of first-world metropolitan centres in Europe, and their nearest and highest-profile North American neighbour. It is interesting to see how the losing and surviving cities represented their candidature to the international public in that year before the IOC would vote and decide on the winner.

First, the losers. Havana did not bother. There was nowhere on the web where the Cuban case was made. Istanbul, by contrast, clarified its motivation and backed this up with extensive 25-page documentation: 'Istanbul has a twofold motivation for hosting the Olympic games. One is the desire to benefit from the exceptionally enriching experience of Games organization. The other is the impelling drive to inspire a more profound conception of Olympism as a universal value' (p.5). 'The meeting of continents' was its headline, the title of its bid, evoking a vision of international peacemaker, a catalyst for harmony and reconciliation. Leipzig was more modest, perhaps acknowledging with a mix of pragmatics, realism and disappointment that it was not really in the frame. Its December 2003 Newsletter showed Muhaammad Ali visiting the city, mentioned agreements on anti-doping, and gave little space to talking up the city's 'compact concept' for staging the Games. The importance of such an event to the revitalisation of the city and the region's economy was also highlighted, but there was a lack of overall vision, and a half-hearted mention of the launch of the new logo. But there was little dynamism in Leipzig's tone. Its elimination several months later would have come as no surprise. Rio had a clearer message: 'In 2012, we will bring our passion to the world ... ONE VILLAGE, ONE CITY, ONE WORLD'. Why Rio? Because it is a city that 'loves everything to do with the Games', and 'in Rio, the Games will be held within the limits of the host city for the first time in history. Four strategic regions will hold all the facilities required for the event'. Not enough though, and the latest bid to land the Olympics for the South Americas was destined for failure. Its candidature was not helped by the strong likelihood that the world's football governing body, FIFA, was likely to grant the 2014 men's soccer World Cup to Brazil. Sponsors would hardly favour locating the two biggest sporting events in the world in one economically volatile South American country within two years. It is too little recognised that Olympic/IOC and World Cup/FIFA politics are interlinked, with overlapping membership of decision-making bodies, complementary interests in the global sports calendar, and sponsors' interests to protect in the global marketplace. The four eliminated candidate cities might have needed economic and related benefits more than any of the other five, but the Olympics is not about need. It is about position, and consolidation of position. So the purportedly most idealistic and universalized of sports events in the world, after its Asian diversion to Beijing in 2008, would revert to one of the metropolitan giants - in Europe, all national capitals - of the West.

These giants were not slow in putting themselves forward. London's website brochure fronted the British prime minister, Tony Blair, writing of 'practical benefits for the capital and the country'. As if the parochialism of the failed bid by the English FA to secure the 2006 men's World Cup had taught the English/British no lessons, Blair concentrated on local benefits: memories and champions for the country, a 'healthier and fitter population': The Games 'would drive the environmentally-friendly regeneration and rejuvenation of East London, give a huge boost for tourism across the UK and provide thousands of new opportunities for work and volunteering'. Here Blair perpetuated some of the core Olympic myths regarding projected positive effects, for tourism may decline during an Olympics and any post-Olympic increase in tourism is rarely sustained. Perhaps only Barcelona has been a serious exception to this (Kennett and Moragas, forthcoming 2005). But this did not stop the bid boosters in their tracks. Craig Reedie, chairman of the British Olympic Association and IOC member, called the decision to make the bid 'the most significant development in British sport in generations'. Tessa Jowell, the Secretary of State for Media, Culture and Sport, claimed that a London Games would revitalise the east of the city, and 'inspire and enthuse a generation of young people'. The Mayor of London, reconciled former prodigal son of the Labour government, Ken Livingstone, hailed the bid: 'Revitalizing London's East End and showcasing the capital's rich cultural diversity are at the heart of the bid for London 2012. I have no higher priority'. He also referred to the 300 languages spoken in London's schools, a nod towards cosmopolitanism. But the puffs for the bid were very inward-looking. Barbara Cassani, chairman of the bid summarised this perspective: 'The entire UK would benefit from the huge sporting, cultural, business, tourism and volunteering opportunities that come from hosting the Games. We would have the chance to show the country, and ourselves, at our best'. There was not much wooing of the IOC here, little in any way of greetings to the international community. London would survive the cut in May 2004, but behind Paris and Madrid in the IOC ratings, and not far ahead of New York and Moscow. Cassani was immediately sidelined and Lord (Sebastian) Coe elevated to the front position of the bid. There would be much work to do for the Conservative peer and Olympic double gold medallist. However commercialized the whole bidding process had become, Lord Coe would be unlikely to galvanise the local economy in ways that would assuage the IOC adjudicators who had put London in only third place because of its rusty transport infrastructure and, though not explicitly stated, persistingly arrogant and naive mode of self-presentation.

Prominent on Madrid's website was the line up of 'Collaborating Companies' - 'A shared dream thanks to the support of companies ... Madrid's Olympic project is supported by the most important Spanish companies. These companies believe in and are financially committed to our project'. The companies were then classified in platinum (13 companies), gold (33 companies), silver (12 companies) and bronze (24 companies) categories. Moscowappealed to culture, tradition and history, and the widespread popular support of Muscovites and other Russians, pledging levels of support of 90% and 89% respectively in favour of Moscow's candidature for the Games.

New York's documentation was a version of OCOG's (Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games) well-developed preliminary bid document first produced in the Summer of 2001. In 2003 US dollars, the projected NYC2012 OCOG total revenue was estimated at $1,834,000,000. Ticket sales, at $813 million, was the highest single source, followed by income from local and national sponsors and suppliers ($687 million). Licensing and merchandising would generate $95 million, Paralympic revenues $69 million, and miscellaneous revenues $170 million. All this was to be in addition to IOC contributions from both its select list of sponsors, and IOC-negotiated television rights. These latter had been projected, in 2000, at $764 million and $179 million respectively (New York 2012, 2001: 95-96). In 2003 New York declared its motivation to be based in New Yorkers' 'deep need to channel their energies, spirit, and resources to express solidarity with the world': '... the Games will be remembered for bringing to life the force of the Olympic Movement in a city that, like the Games itself, celebrates the power of dreams and the triumph of the human spirit'. To bring to life the Games itself would, though, be the job of accountants, economists and financiers, media and commercial partners, more than speechmakers or apologists for the Olympic ideal. New York was explicit about this from the start of its candidature. After 9/11, the rhetoric of renewal and international solidarity could be amplified still further, but this could not conceal the stark economics of planning underlying the financial infrastructure and commercial realities necessary to the hosting and staging of an Olympic Games.

Corporations

The IOC had in place for 2000-2004 its fifth generation, as it called it, of The Olympic Programme (TOP) sponsorship scheme with corporate partners. Its ten sponsors/partners were: Coca-Cola, John Hancock, Kodak, McDonald's, Panasonic, Samsung, Sema, Sports Illustrated, Visa, and Xerox. The first cycle of the scheme, TOP 1 (Calgary/Seoul 1998), generated $95 million, from 9 partners. TOP II (1992 Albertville/Barcelona) generated $175 million from 12 partners. Ten partners generated $350 million for TOP III (1994 Lillehammer/1996 Atlanta). In TOP IV (1998 Nagano/2000 Sydney), $500 million was generated by 11 partners. For TOP V the IOC forecast that the scheme would generate 'in excess of $600 million in financial and technical support to the organizing committees of the Olympic Games and the Olympic Teams' (IOC press release, 6 June 2000).

The ways in which these companies use their status as sponsors varies, but all buy for the four-year cycle a universally recognisable badge, and the guarantee of inestimable media coverage and profile during the Olympic event itself. Coca-Cola's initial emphasis is on its historical pedigree, referencing its unbroken sponsoring of the Games since 1928, and its extension of this partnership already through to 2008, and the importance of 'the Olympic spirit of unity and competition ... to you, our consumers': 'The Olympic Games are truly global events that provide an opportunity to bond with our consumers all over the world through activities and promotions they appreciate and understand'. These included selecting 2,500 torchbearers, from among 'local citizens', to carry the Olympic flame on its route to its Salt Lake City site in 2002: people 'who had demonstrated courage, dedication, passion or a deep concern for others'. Coca-Cola also congratulates itself on its own initiatives: 'We've also created original popular activities at the Games themselves, like the Pin Trading Center, where people can trade pins with other fans from all over the world, and Coca-Cola Radio, which gives popular DJs a chance to share the excitement of the Olympic Games with their home town fans'. Coca-Cola speaks for itself, its global brand name needing no further logo as it reports its Olympic connection. John Hancock (Financial Services), though, uses the Olympic rings on its home page, stating proudly its status as 'World IOC sponsor', secured in 1993 up until at least 2008. The company started its sport sponsorships in backing the Boston marathon in 1985, and also sponsors Major League Baseball and ice-dancing. The company's reasons for sponsoring the Olympics are unambiguously clear:

Why would the Financial Services giant want to get into sports marketing? Just ask John Hancock's Vice President of Corporate Communications Steve Burgay. "At John Hancock we believe that the Olympic Games are the one event that allows the world to see so much patriotism, tolerance, selfless sacrifice, individual excellence and plain old virtue crowded into two short weeks," he says. "To the athletes, they are the culmination of a lifetime's hard work. To the host cities, they are the highest possible expression of local pride. When you think of the Olympics, you think of winning."

And, of course, to the commercial sponsor, they are an unmissable marketing opportunity:

"The Olympic Games also provide a unique international marketing platform," Burgay continues. "John Hancock's Olympic Marketing programs, which include matching internationally renowned athletes with hometown clinics, help to strengthen existing client relationships and give Hancock an edge in new client prospecting. More than anybody else, the athletes are the face of the Games. These people really do embody the Olympic ideals."

The metaphor is Hancock's own: Olympic sponsorship as a form of gold-digging.

Kodak boasts both its historical pedigree, claiming sponsorship of the Olympic games for 106 years, and now running 'the biggest photo lab in the world', and its world-wide sponsor status, heading its sites with the five rings. Rather than any broad rhetoric, Kodak presents itself as technological provider and host to the professionals, the photographers and the broadcasters, at the Games.

Fast-food giant McDonald's reels off Olympic statistics like a Las Vegas cab-driver boasting of the city's consumption of electricity and wattage usage. In the Olympic Village and Main Media Center at Salt Lake City the company had a captive market. In the village, 52,695 'guests' were served, of whom 53% were athletes. At the center, the Snack station and Restaurant snared 53,588 'customers'. The Big Mac was the 'top seller in the village, along with McDonald's World Famous Fries'. And research is quoted on the benefits to athletes, for whom the McDonald presence provides the familiar taste of home'. A specialist nutrition consultant, 'Jacqueline Berning, Ph.D, R.D' assures us of the benefits of a McDonald's diet: 'I work with swimmers who are calorie-burning machines. They're thrilled when I show them how they can enjoy McDonald's as part of their diets'. A Director of nutrition at the Cooper Clinic in Dallas, 'Georgia Kostas, M.P.H., RD, L.D.' tells us that 'Olympic athletes need "real-life" food that they enjoy. It's great McDonald's will help meet this need at the Olympic Games'. No doubt the company was thrilled too to find experts willing to peddle such pseudo-scientific gobbledygook; unfortunately the site didn't have space, it seems, for corroborative lists of scientific sources. On its Olympic site McDonald's also tells us about its own charity work in establishing its 215th world-wide house for 'immune-compromised' children, and lists the company personnel who have competed in or officialised around the Olympics. And we can learn of gold awards made to company personnel committed and dedicated enough to compete in the Big Mac Builder's competition to find the crew that can build the fastest and best Big Mac. Burger builder or basketball selector alike, these are hailed as equal in the 'McFamily of Olympians'. And despite this kindergarten drivel, IOC first vice-president and marketing committee chair Richard (Dick) W. Pound could also be integrated into the promotional rhetoric: 'The McDonald's brand exemplifies "best-in class." It's an experience that people have in common around the world. We're very pleased that McDonald's commitment to Olympic Athletes world-wide will not only continue, but grow in strength as one of our leading supporters through 2004.'

Panasonic devotes nothing to the Olympics on its main site, but in its global sponsorship section browsers are directed to several links. These include a brief history of the Games from 1984-2002, its period of sponsorship, with a particular emphasis upon the exploits and achievements of Japanese athletes and competitors; a backstage look at the technologies used and developed for the Olympics; advertisements in the form of both still and moving images; and souvenirs. The five rings of the Olympic logo are prominent, but the self-representation is subdued, restrained and technical in comparison to some of the other sponsors' sites.

Korean telecommunications giant Samsung takes a much more direct approach, telling us of the company's global market aspirations. Il-Hyung Chang, Senior Vice President, Corporate Communication Team, recalls the company's debut as an Olympic sponsor at the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan, when 'Samsung was among the last in the row of companies. Today, only five years later, numbers show we are the third in the world among telecommunications companies'. In 2001, Samsung's fourth place was based on a 7.1% market share, in 2002 a 9.8% market share secured a third place, and estimations for 2003 pointed to a 12% plus market share. Vice President of the company Eric Kim claims a direct causal relationship between the rising global profile of the company and its status as an Olympic sponsor: 'The Olympic Games is a universal event, attract the interest of the whole world and reflect the ideals of sports that appeal to most people. We have been participating in Olympic projects lately, with very beneficial results for our company.' Samsung's sponsorship of Athens 2004 comprised '3 main axes': sponsoring the torch relay, along with Coca-Cola; creating a 'Samsung Olympic Rendezvous' in the heart of the athletes' village; and providing 22,000 mobile phones to athletes, officials, the media, IOC members and volunteers. 'At the heart of sports is fair play, a virtue that SAMSUNG esteems as a key corporate belief' the opening/home page of the site declares, saying too that it is 'driven by the corporate belief to promote peace and happiness through sports and its ability to unify regardless of race, gender, religion or geography ..'

The sponsor Sema presents itself as SchlumbergerSema, world-wide IT partner of the IOC. It boasts of securing 'the world's largest-ever IT contract for four games and eight years', from Salt Lake City in 2002, Athens and Turin (2006), and Beijing (2008). Sema summarises its accomplishments at previous Games, and lays out its strategy for 'ramping up for Athens'. It is a self-confident, assertive site, emphasising jobs well done and progressive technological achievements. The 300 Schlumberger people at the Salt Lake Games 'managed a vast IT system that relayed information in real time to the participants, audiences and media. The same team provided IT-enabled accreditations to the 89,000 athletes, officials, sponsors and media representatives to enable the sage and secure movement between the 79 events held across 10 sporting and 30 non-competition venues.' Estimates of numbers of users of SchlumbergerSema services in Athens in 2004 approached a quarter of a million people (involving the administration of 200,000 accreditations), active in more than 80 facilities.

Compared to these technological profiles, Sports Illustrated offers little in the way of self-promotion of its TOP status. Its home page contains no reference to the Olympics, and even trails to 'more sports' and 'Olympics' lead to very little information or promotion. The Olympics appears to be a minor emphasis for the sponsor, in comparison to US-specific sports. The magazine would not be offering any direct service during the Games, but by definition would obviously raise its Olympic profile in he build-up to and during the event itself. Visa, on the other hand, buys in to exclusive product placement, 'installing a network of cash machines and hundreds of payment terminals at the Olympic venues'; offering Visa cardholders general help and information, and multi-lingual emergency services; and sponsoring a Visa Olympians Reunion Centre, 'where past and present Olympic athletes can meet and chat'. The Olympic Games is an ideal marketing opportunity for the credit-card company, 'a magical combination of sport and culture that brings together people from round the world'. Visa notes the IOC's observation that its sponsorship enables the competing nations to take part, by supporting National Olympic Committees. Without such sponsors, only 30 of the 200 competing nations could get to the Games, we are told.

Xerox, 'The Document Company', makes much of its Olympic status. It locates its Olympic role within a broader social and cultural history, from its first involvement as sponsor, when it used just five plain-paper copiers at the 1964 Tokyo Games. The first post-9/11 Games are recalled by Chairman and Chief Executive Officer Anne M. Mulcahy as a special case. Not only was her own carrying of the torch for a leg a personal 'unforgettable experience', the company's sponsorship of these particular games was of especial significance: 'In 2002 Olympic sponsorship was about pride: pride in country, pride in people, pride in community and businesses. It was about working together as a team to support an event that unites the world ... In Athens, the Olympic Flame will again unite people in the shared experience of celebration and achievement and, as the Olympic Summer Games return home to Greece, we will celebrate a history of admirable resolve in the face of adversity ... Our presence in Athens demonstrates our continued commitment to our people, our technology and our customers.' In this fortieth year of its Olympic sponsorship Xerox combined its own mission statement with an interventionist and harmonising global role. Olympic-style rhetoric is blended with company interests, as the Team Xerox Olympian Program, established in 1990, continues to spread 'the Olympic message to thousands at charity events, fund-raisers, schools and training clinics. Our specially selected Olympic team has inspired and motivated us in a variety of corporate events for our customers and ourselves.' Xerox provides the fullest and most gushing elision of Olympic values with corporate values. The following two extracts speak for themselves:

Hope, dreams, friendship, inspiration, joy in effort. These are just a few of the emotions the Olympic Summer Games evoke in people throughout the world. Xerox shares and embraces the values, spirit and teamwork that distinguish the Olympics as a vital event in our global society. We hope that you will join us in Athens as we come together in these challenging yet hopeful times in a show of unity, brotherhood and pride that elevates the human spirit. Championing innovation - doing what's never been done before - is what the Olympic Summer Games are all about. Like Olympic athletes, we at Xerox are Champions of Innovation. And like Olympic athletes, we marshal every resource to aggressively seek and deliver creative, groundbreaking and powerful results for our most important audience, our customers'.

The IOC may not have repeated the marketing innovation of 1924, when advertisements appeared in the stadium. But despite the purity of the stadium, the commercial message saturates the Olympics. At any Olympic Park the sponsors are prominent, foregrounding their services and products. As consumers, not just spectators and fans, the Olympic audiences and crowds are pushed into not just the rhetoric of the official sponsors and suppliers, but towards the consumption of those sponsors’ goods and products. Corporations speak to potential consumers in their self-promotional rhetoric, and they want to be in the right place to be able to do this. The IOC also knows that the big sponsors want luxury for their money: the best hotels in the most desirable city locations, the block bookings of seats for the most sought-after events.

Conclusion: Commercialism, commodities and the Games

Unlike many other sporting events, such as Formula I motor-racing or the football World Cup, the Olympics has sought to keep the commercial imagery of the event under some control. The Olympic Stadium is not permitted to have perimeter boards, and the IOC has traditionally used the word 'clean' in its instructions and criteria for bidding cities. Cities must comply with this: for instance, 'NYC 2012 recognizes the importance of clean venues to a successful Olympic Games. Accordingly, NYCOG will reach agreements with all venues to ensure that no commercial signage will appear, in accordance with Rule 61 of the Olympic Charter' (NYC 2012, 2001: 119). So you can turn on the television and there appears to be a purity abut the Olympic setting, and the five-ring logo has pride of place in the venues. But athletes of course wear clothes, and these carry logos; and in the milieu of the surrounding Olympic environment, the sponsors have a heavy presence. Olympic Parks and the streets around venues are orgies of consumption, sites of commercial advertising and selling. It is a brilliant conjuring, or marketing, trick by which the IOC in the post-1984 era of naked professionalism and blatant commercialism has preserved a presentational gloss of idealism and universalism. The cities are in it for reconstruction and global positioning, chasing world-wide markets; the corporations are in it for global profile and unprecedented levels and scales of television exposure; the consumers are in it for a mixture of motives, some as sports enthusiasts or idealists, others for the party atmosphere or the feel of being close to something big. But whatever the drive behind the commitment to the event of these different players, the commercialization of the Olympics has turned it into a global commodity. The Olympics has a fascinating claim to speak for international ideals, for the value of transcending difference in friendly competition. But it is as a commodity that the scale, media and market penetration and extraordinary longevity and sustained profile of the phenomenon must be understood.

There are different definitions of, and levels of thinking about, commodity. It initially referred to a quality or condition of things relating to the 'desires or needs of men', the quality of being commodious or convenient (OED, 1971: 482). As economics and markets reconstitute social and cultural boundaries and definitions of needs and desires, the notion of commodity can come to mean, as in everyday economic life, simply a product in the marketplace, an item of purchase: 'an article or raw material that can be bought and sold, esp. a product as opposed to a service' (OERD, 1996: 291). The modern Olympics in this general everyday sense have always been a commodity, in that entrance fees were set, products were put on display (the events). But these were modest levels of circulation, based upon non-profit-making and break-even budgets. To really grasp the escalating scale of the commercialisation and commodification of the Olympic Games entails a recognition of the more complex nature of the commodity form as it is generated in contemporary global sport(s).

And for this there is another level on which the commodity can be conceptualised, drawing upon critical analyses of the fundamental economic dynamic of market capitalist societies as developed by Marx in Capital (Marx, 1976), and as developed in Braverman's neo-Marxist exploration of the expansion of the market. Braverman has commented: 'How capitalism transformed all of society into a gigantic marketplace is a process that has been little investigated, although it is one of the keys to all recent social history' (Braverman, 1974: 271). Supra-national cultural phenomena such as the Olympics, driven by mixtures of political, economic and social forces, have had their part to play in such a transformation. A certain genre of writing on the Olympics, a kind of topical reminiscence, reveals a simpler form of social and cultural product before the Olympics of a global and mediated consumer culture. Christopher Brasher could see the Games as 'vast', but felt in touch with 'the horde of journalists' flooding in from the 15 different venues, and could even claim to 'see a tenth of what goes on" (Brasher, 1964: 41-42). A specialist political focus (Ali, 1976) could address the African issue in purely political and cultural terms. In this less developed Olympic context and setting, perspectives could still be credibly produced as if the Olympics was a festival of individual human achievement (Benagh, 1976). And involved professionals could predict from their commentary box and diaries cum memoirs that 'the "hard core" of the Olympics will never change' (Bateman, 1968: 70), centred as it was and remains around the track races and the marathon. But the escalation and commodification of the Games has transformed them first and foremost into a celebration of global consumerism alongside any persisting celebration of the triumph of the human spirit or the political system. 'Celebrate humanity' has been a message from the IOC in the early years of the century, referring to the 'priceless moments' such as when 'the sweet smile of a 17-year-old Russian girl named Olga taught us that our differences weren't as great as they seemed.' But Olga Korbut has to share the stage here with the real partners, as we are reminded that these moments are now 'made possible, in part, with the help of our Worldwide Corporate Partners':

Not only do these companies understand the importance of the Olympic Movement, but they have provided food, shelter, training facilities and more to the world's athletes. We thank them for their dedication and ask the world to return the favour by supporting the companies that advance the spirit of the Olympics. [http://www.olympic.org/uk/news/media_centre/press release, accessed 1/28/04]

Michael R. Payne, IOC marketing director since moving to the IOC from ISL in 1989, could write after the Sydney Games that 'new and innovative programmes' by the sponsors had enhanced spectators' experiences, and that 'the marketing programmes were presented with a new focus on promoting and enhancing the Olympic spirit, in a commercially-controlled, ambush-free environment'. Payne was to leave the IOC after the Athens Olympics, and was soon advising British sports minister Richard Caborn, at a meeting on the luxury yacht of Bernie Ecclestone, the Formula 1 entrepreneur; and inviting London bid leader Sebastian Coe to his isolated Swiss chalet to brief him on the realpolitik of Olympic bidding (Lee, 2006: 99-100). In such networks are Olympic futures made. No wonder Rio de Janeiro, Istanbul, Leipzig and Havana could be ditched so early in the race for the 2012 Summer Games. The world-wide partners know the markets into which they want to reach, and, despite London’s promise to the youth and future youth of the world, what kind of consumerist universalism in what kind of city they want to promote as they keep digging deep into their corporate pockets.

References

Ali, R., 1976, Africa at the Olympics, London, Africa Books.

Barney, R.K., Wenn, S.R. and Martyn, S.G., 2002, Selling the Five Rings: The International Olympic Committee and the Rise of Olympic Commercialism, Salt Lake City, The University of Utah Press.

Bateman, R., 1968, The Book of the Olympic Games, London, Stanley Paul.

Benagh, J., 1976, Incredible Olympic Feats, New York, McGraw Hill Book Company.

Brasher, C., Tokyo 1964 - A Diary of the XVIIIth Olympiad, London, Stanley Paul.

Braverman, H., 1974, Labour and Monopoly Capital - The Degradation of Work in the Twentieth Century, New York and London, Monthly Review Press.

Brown, I. (selected by/edited), 1952, The Bedside 'Guardian' - A Selection by Ivor Brown from the 'Manchester Guardian' 1951-1952, London: Collins.

Brasher, C., 1964, Tokyo 1964 - A Diary of the XVIIIth Olympiad, London, Stanley Paul.

De Coubertin, P., 2000, Pierre de Coubertin 1863-1937: Olympism, Selected Writings, editing director Norbert Muller, Lausanne, International Olympic Committee.

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Kennett, C., and Moragas, M., forthcoming 2005, 'Barcelona and its legacy', in A. Tomlinson and C.J. Young, eds., National Identity and Global Events - Culture, Politics and Spectacle in the Olympics and the Men's Football World Cup, Albany, State University of New York Press.

Lee, M. (2006), with A. Warner and D. Bond, The Race for the 2012 Olympics: The Inside Story of How London Won the Bid, London, Virgin Books Ltd.

Marx, K., 1996, Capital, Vol. I - Karl Marx Frederick Engels Collected Works Volume 35, London, Lawrence and Wishart.

New York 2012, 2001, New York City 2012, New York, New York Bid.

OED [Oxford English Dictionary], 1971, The Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary – Complete Text Reproduced Micrographically, Volume 1 A-O, Oxford, Oxford University Press.

OERD, 1996, The Oxford English Reference Dictionary, Second Edition, edited by J. Pearsall and B. Trumble, Oxford, Oxford University Press.

Perelman, R.B., 1985, Olympic Retrospective - The Games of Los Angeles, Los Angeles: Los Angeles Olympic Organizing Committee.

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Simson, V. and Jennings, A., 1992, The Lords of the Rings: Power, Money and Drugs in the Modern Olympics, London, Simon & Schuster.

Sugden, J. and Tomlinson, A., 1998, FIFA and the Contest for World Football: Who Rules the Peoples’ Game?, Cambridge, Polity Press.

Tomlinson, 2004, 'The Disneyfication of the Olympics? Theme Parks, and Freak Shows of the Body', in J. Bale and M.K. Christensen, eds., Post-Olympism? Questioning Sport in the Twenty-first Century, Oxford, Berg, pp. 147-63.

Tomlinson, A., 2005, 'The Making of the Global Sports Economy: ISL, Adidas and the Rise of the Corporate Player in World Sport', in M. Silk, D. Andrews and C.L. Cole, eds., Sport and Corporate Nationalisms, Oxford, Berg, pp. 35-65.

Tomlinson, A., 2006, ‘Los Angeles 1984 and 1932: Commercializing the American Dream’, in A. Tomlinson and C. Young, eds., National Identity and Global Sports Events: Culture, Politics and Spectacle in the Olympics and the Football World Cup, Albany NY, State University of New York Press, pp. 163-76.

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Olympic sponsor web-sites consulted

http://www2.coca-cola.com/citizenship/olympics.html, accessed 1/30/04
http://www.jhancock.com/company/sponsor/olympics.html, accessed 1/29/04
http://www.olympic.org/uk/games/slc2002/kodak/index_uk.asp, accessed 1/28/04
http://www.mcdonalds.com/usa/sports/olympic/sponsor.html, accessed 1/30/04
http://www.panasonic.co.jp/global/top.html, accessed 1/29/04
http://www.samsung.com/About SAMSUNG/SportsSponsorship/index.htm, accessed 1/28/04
http://www.sema.com/olympics/index.htm, accessed 1/28/04
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2004/olympics/01/07/2004.index, accessed 1/29/04
http://www.viseu.com/iusevisa/olympics.html, accessed 1/28/04
http://www.ebusiness.xerox.com/olympics, accessed 1/29/04


Acknowledgements

I am grateful to Paul Gilchrist, research assistant in the Chelsea School, University of Brighton, for generating the web sources that form the basis of the central two sections of this paper. A version of this paper was published in Kevin Young and Kevin Wamsley, eds., Global Olympics: Historical and Sociological Studies of the Modern Games, Oxford, Elsevier, 2005.

© Alan Tomlinson, November 2006


28 November 2006 in Observations on the Olympics | Permalink

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Away from the Heart of the Matter: the Little Olympics

Sydney 2000 was the Bumper Summer Olympics. It welcomed more than 11,000 athletes, several thousand officials and coaches, and as the 16 days whizzed by estimates of the number of mediafolk in town reached 21,000, although official estimates had been initially put at around 15,000. Athens 2004 plans to cater for 18,000 media. The Main Press Centre at the Olympic Park was vast, and the International Broadcast Centre was dominated by US broadcaster NBC, who’d paid 705 million US dollars for the rights, and mobilized a workforce of more than 2,000. More athletes, more sports, more professionals. Bigger, bigger, bigger.

The International Olympic Committee claims that the vast majority of the world’s population able to access a television will have watched the action, the opening ceremony pulling in several billion – though such claims are beyond corroboration, and more reputable estimates by independent researchers have put the figure at rather less than half the one trumpeted by the IOC. But it is beyond dispute that the summer Olympic Games does claim one of the biggest television audiences of all time. Australians, and Sydneysiders especially, responded to the Games with passion and a determination to shout and support their own competing hopefuls, and then in the 24 hour pubs of Pyrmont and the like to party through till dawn. Gold was won by the scantily clad blonde women beach volley-ballers at Bondi Beach, by the muscular concrete-pillar necked water polo girls in the Aquatic Centre, as well as by the beach bums of the swimming squads and the fated and fêted bridge to Aboriginal/Australian reconciliation, Cathy Freeman.

When the big hopes were competing, the venues were a sell out and the great live sites of Sydney – Circular Quay, Martin Place in the Central Business District, Tumbalong Park at Darling Harbour, Pyrmont Park, The Domain atop the Royal Botanical Gardens, Belmore Park at Central Station – were throbbing with nationalist enthusiasm. The home crowds were raucously supportive of their Australian hopes, and always ready with a jeer and a boo for the athletes from the UK and the US. If there was no serious Australian competitor in an event, the crowd cheered any compatriot it could locate. At the boxing, this gave a moment of celebrity to a number of Australian referees.

It was nevertheless enthralling seeing a nation of 20 million people chasing the USA and China in the medal table, and celebrating this by waving or being draped in a national flag dominated by the flag of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. The victorious side of the Olympics for the host nation quickly became a metaphor for both the reconciliation embodied in the dignified presence of Cathy Freeman, and the success of the new Australia of multi-cultural mix. The silver medal in the first-ever Olympic women’s pole vault was won by a blonde beauty from Adelaide, with the most New-Australian of names, Tatiana Grigorieva – complete too with a recent nose job by the look of it, maybe since she relocated herself from Russia in 1996. So many of the Australian women were blonde, leggy and en route to if not already packaged up in modelling contracts. Tatania had already got the glam shots of her, in far less than her pole-vaulting outfit, ready for the world press.

The organisers of the Games, the much maligned SOCOG (Sydney Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games) could claim an Olympic record in ticket sales, 80 odd per cent and above the sales figures for Atlanta 1996. But there weren’t many sell outs for the women’s soccer semis, or the softball preliminaries, or the Graeco-Roman wrestling, or the handball. I’d decided to take a look at some of the less glitzy sports, across Olympic Park, city centre venues and the western suburbs. Ones too that normal people like most of my taxi drivers might be able to afford – not the 455 dollars a go for the Aquatic Centre and a partial view only of the pool; or the 1,450 dollars for the Opening Ceremony. Or even the 105 dollars for the later rounds of the beach beauties over at Bondi. I thought I’d go where on a mere professorial salary I might have been able to afford to take my family when they were younger, had some interest in sports, and might have enthused if the Olympics were in town.

Western suburbs was a bit of a misnomer. Getting to Olympic softball was deserving
of a special Olympic award. It was based in the Olympic Softball Centre at Blacktown. Well, that’s what the programme said, but it wasn’t really in Blacktown at all. There, a good ride out of town, it already felt like we were half way to the Blue Mountains. It was a lower and hotter sun than in Sydney, and it felt like a good option to ride on to Mount Victoria, and hole up in the Victoria and Albert Guest House with a nice bottle of wine, a log fire, and close-ups of the top action. I’d been there for a few nights the previous month, when the area’s Yulefest was in full flow. Yulefest was a mid-winter innovation of the local tourist trade. To compete with cheap jet travel to Bali or Singapore or some Pacific Island idyll, the entrepreneurs of the Blue Mountains region had come up with a winner. It’s mid-winter in Australia in August, they said, so let’s have a traditional knees-up at the weekend, but get in some symbols of excess and tradition. So in the V & A I’d paid over the mark for a three-course Christmas dinner, sat by a decorated and illuminated Christmas tree, and pulled – if not felt – crackers with my companion. Half way through the meal Santa Claus came tramping into the dining room and gave out boiled sweets. This was a cue for the local minstrel boy to switch from Neil Diamond or John Denver numbers to Jingle Bells. It was cold – for Australia – outside, the log fires were cosy and the red wine was warming. Bizarre and cute – and maybe better than what might await at the Softball Centre.

But it would have been cowardly to head out for Mount Victoria, even if its converted community hall the Mount Vic Flicks must be the sweetest little movie house in the world. So the Olympic epic continued. Another train took the increasingly blue-collar crowd to Doonside, where fleets of buses carted us in to Rooty Hill. Hey this is where the action starts for the local lads, I thought. Some frothing-at-the-mouth hedonist back in Newcastle (New South Wales) had spluttered in the Great Northern pub that “you take home the fat ones on the Friday night. They’re the rooters”. That was the first time that I’d realised that in Australian vernacular to root means to fuck. Any connection with how Rooty Hill got its name? Rooty Hill was flat, making the south-east of England look mountainous. This seemed another Australian trait. Back in Newcastle I’d visited a house in Cooper’s Hill, on the flattest bit of central Newcastle. So I was ready enough for this – the Olympic Softball Centre was on a flat dustbowl called Rooty Hill, a suburb of Doonside a train ride out of Blacktown. From Central Sydney this had all taken close to two hours. The compensation was that I'd been able to feel nostalgic for the Blue Mountains, I'd mingled with some of the local population rather than the worldwide media, and I was now able to watch some of the world’s top women athletes in one of the newest sports on the Olympic agenda.

Softball’s essentially a copy of baseball. The women dress pretty much the same as men in baseball. They use a stick that looks pretty much like a baseball bat, though it’s thinner. And the critical player in the squads is without question The Pitcher (some squads have loads of these). The basic principle of the game is that The Pitcher throws the ball (underarm, men in baseball pitch overarm) very hard – high or low, it varies – in a fashion designed to prevent The Batter from hitting it at all. This means that The Batter can’t then score a run by hitting the ball – white, and bigger than a baseball, but not at all soft-looking to me – high and beyond the perimeter of the stadium, and running around all the four bases. If you hit it high but not far enough you get caught. Nobody drops a catch in softball, as the players have on one hand a giant mitt, that looks like the kind of soft toy Australian gold medallists had become fond of cuddling on the medal rostrum. If you don’t hit the ball or if you hit it just a short distance then you can run like mad to one of the four bases. For ages in this game, if the teams are evenly matched, there’s no score. Then The Pitcher might get tired or The Batter might get lucky, and the softball is hit longer and harder and some runs might be scored. You also get a run if you can get around all those four bases whilst someone else is having a go with the bat. Some teams play cunningly, getting different players on the bases, knowing that it’s unlikely that many players will hit the ball out of the playing area. The Canadian team did this very cleverly against Japan. Trailing 3-0 to some impressive Japanese swinging and thwacking, they’d got a couple of players on the bases, and a mighty swing from Wood connected and thrashed the ball into the crowd. All three players then trotted around the four bases and suddenly the match was all-square, or tied up, as the commentators liked to say. At first, looking at the woman who crouches behind The Batter to catch the ball that nobody’s likely to hit, who’s adorned in a suit of armour and mask that would delight the local S-M community, I’d thought that tied-up was a sub-text for more exciting Games. But it turned out to mean level in score, at which point the Japanese brought on The Really Big Pitcher. This was a rather older-looking woman, of more than ample proportions, who had something special in her wrist action. She went on to mesmerise the Canadian players and eventually, in complex tie-break rules, the Japanese got home 4-3.

There are interesting moments of tension in Softball. Like when the ball’s mis-hit and seems to be coming at your head in your spectator seat, at a million miles an hour. Then it hits the safety net. And The Batters swing the stick with serious menace, and you think that they can’t go on missing it for so much of the time. But when there’s a bit of a mismatch it can look embarrassing. That’s true in any competitive sport. But how can you have this in team sports at the Olympics? The Cuban women lost 7-0 and began to look as if they feared the wrath of Castro long before the end of their encounter with the lean and wiry looking Chinese. The Cubans looked like they’d been left out of the track and field squads throughout their lives, maybe not quite got the mobility skills for volleyball, but in line with Cuba’s philosophy of sport for all – “massivity”, they’ve often translated it in Cuba – they had to come to the Olympics and do something. Not to beat about the bush, the Cuban team was a bunch of fatties. Softball might have looked the soft option for some of these, but as China accelerated its desperate and determined bid to host the 2008 Olympics, nothing was going to halt the momentum of its attack on the medal table.

The Olympics is a bloated beast, but one grain of optimism as some of us try and salvage some positive values from the debacle of consumer excess, organisational scandal and jingoistic nationalism, is that the proportion of women competing at the Games has risen dramatically. The old Soviet Union and other East European states always knew how to win lots of medals. Pick obscure sports, spot people with some physical aptitude, train them up on drugs and dedicate lots of resources to esoteric activities. Do this with your women athletes too and most of the West’s hopeful beauties won’t stand a chance. China’s followed the formula well. So, in part, has Australia, where it was clear that the general profile of women’s sports, and the country’s position in the medal table, would rise if more women’s sports got on the programme. So the Australian Olympic Committee supported, prepared and sent loads of impressively athletic and fearsomely competitive women to the Games. And it makes an interesting counterpoint in Australia to the nation’s top four team sports – rugby union, rugby league, cricket and Australian rules football. All male and not on the Olympic programme. Not to mention the major Australian sport for women and girls, netball.

But there weren’t very many people at Rooty Hill rooting for the teams of China, Cuba, Japan and Canada. Some of those teams always have hired support, colourfully attired and led by choirmasters and mistresses in neat rows of officially sponsored supporters, often in front row seats. But most of the parts of the crowd voluble at all at Rooty Hill were high-voiced pubescent and early-adolescent Australian kids. ‘Go Cuba Go’, squeaked a few dozen of these. Behind the big moments of the Olympics, those with the 112,000 crowds, there’s the Little Olympics. Modest crowds, esoteric sports, ambitious administrators – the Argentinean boss of the International Softball Federation could get millions of dollars of revenue from the International Olympic Committee, as well as gongs and awards and all the trappings that come with the ceremonial culture of world sport. No wonder he looked plump, contented and happy as he received one of these trinkets before the China-Cuba game.

Softball had debued at Atlanta, when the USA beat China 3-1 to get gold. These nations are big markets for the men behind the scenes of the expansion of women’s sports. But if you go to some of these Little Games, and don’t hide in the suites of Sydney’s top hotels, or get tempted to the delights of the Blue Mountains’ Yulefest, you’ll see what really goes on. The Olympic Park is what SOCOG organiser Steve Jones called a “Disneyworld of Sport”. The crowds there are like any holiday crowd at a day out at the local theme park - as long as they can afford the admission to something, they’ll have the day out for ever. At Rooty Hill it was in a sense the same, but also very different. It was an eight-hour round trip that reminded me of nothing if not the dutiful attendance at the school fête.

© Alan Tomlinson
September 26 2000, Stanmore, Sydney, Australia

10 October 2006 in Observations on the Olympics | Permalink

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