The Olympic Movement and the End of the Cold War By LINCOLN ALLISON Contemporary cultural theories that stress the potency of invented and selected tra- ditions could select no better subject than the Olympic Games. The games are a kind of su- per-example of invented tradition because they have erected one myth on another, a fic- tional account of how the modern games de- veloped on top of a set of beliefs about the ancient games, which are more than half fan- tasy.1 | Lincoln Allison is director of the Centre for the Study of Sport in Society, University of Warwick, Coventry, England. | The ancient games started in 1370 B.C. or 776 B.C., depending on which sources you believe, and lasted until either A.D. 261 or Theodosius' ban in A.D. 393.2 They were not amateur affairs, but involved professional wrestlers and athletes. There was no ethos that taking part was of great value in itself; winning was what mattered and the "per- formance principle," as it is now called, was always in evidence. The Olympiad was not particularly a sporting event, but a religious and cultural festival, the only overlap with the modern conception being athletics and wres- tling. The "truce" for the Olympiad did not suspend war or political machinations, but merely allowed safe passage to the event. The idea that the Olympiad represented something ideal and universal that could, therefore, be translated into modern terms, is mildly fantastic. It presents, for example, an obvious problem of the compatibility with Christianity, as was evident in the composi- tion and singing of a "hymn to Apollo" at the Congress in Paris in 1894 that organized the first modern games. The general context in which all this assumed some plausibility was nineteenth century vulgar classicism, which held deeply admiring attitudes towards antiquity. Personally, I think it is quite dif- ficult to actually read, say, Thucydides, Taci- tus, or Suetonius and maintain the assump- tion that life in antiquity was more worthy, noble, or honest than life in modern times; for the most part it seems to be even more squalid, corrupt, and lacking in a coherent idea of worth. But clearly many people in the nineteenth century did elevate antiquity in this way. Baron Pierre de Coubertin, who suc- cessfully founded the modern Olympics, was one of them, as were his predecessors (at least five of them, Greek and English) who had tried to revive the games between 1850 and 1890.3 The classical heritage of the games remains something of an embarrassment in some respects and there are regular attempts to revive the place of poetry and other activities that we would now classify as the arts in the Olympiad. Sometimes they even take place, though the attempts in Los Angeles in 1984 collapsed through lack of sponsorship. But the myth of antiquity to which Couber- tin subscribed was nothing compared with the modern Olympic myth. This is a form of the "Golden Age" syndrome. It says, at any one time, that the games once represented every- thing that was noble in sport: the eschewing of material gain, participation for its own sake, a spirit of sportsmanship that left behind ideology and politics on a lower plane, or a belief that all people could compete equally. In fact, De Coubertin's ideas, at least at the time the Olympics were founded, were dominated by a desire to revive France's power and credibility, so badly damaged by defeat in the Franco-Prussian war of 1870.4 In part, he saw the vigorous, muscular culture of the English public schools as the solution to French problems. He was an aristocratic elitist, who saw these same institutions as a defense against the egalitarianism of the age; sport was for the few, for gentlemen. -92- |