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Jewish World Review June 27, 2001 / 6 Tamuz 5761
Philip Terzian
There is considerable opposition to rewarding the People's Republic of
China with the Olympic Games, and that opposition (which is largely
bipartisan) had lately been gathering force. Three California members of
Congress -- Democrats Tom Lantos and Nancy Pelosi, and Republican
Christopher Cox -- have sponsored a resolution opposing Beijing's bid, and
in testimony on Capitol Hill last month, Secretary of State Colin Powell
acknowledged their argument. The choice of Olympic venues, he said, "is an
independent judgment by the International Olympic Committee -- although I am
sure they would be interested in what the Congress might say, or the
administration might say."
Realizing that he had just attached the administration's position to the
congressional resolution, General Powell quickly caught himself. "No
decision has been made about what the U.S. might, or might not, do with
respect to the Olympics," he said. But now a decision has been made, and it
is clearly antithetical to the Lantos resolution, which is losing steam.
While the administration will take no official position on whether the
Olympics ought to be held in China, it has made its unofficial attitude
clear. A "senior State Department official" told The Washington Post this
week that awarding the Games to China "might even be a positive thing and
give China 'a powerful but intangible incentive' to improve its human rights
performance and to exercise restraint toward Taiwan."
This is, to be sure, the triumph of hope over experience. It is the
language that is routinely employed to argue in favor of increasing economic
ties with China, or putting human rights behind commercial gain. It is
possible, of course, that the People's Republic might start treating its
citizens with dignity, or change its mind about Taiwan's status as a
"renegade province." But it is equally possible that the People's Republic
would regard the Olympics award as a victory, as a political vindication of
its status among nations, and act accordingly.
The question, therefore, is what difference does it make. The modern
Olympics, which began in 1896, were intended to exalt sport over politics.
But from the very beginning athletes have been divided by nationality, and
even virtuous countries (such as our own) show little restraint in waving
the flag. The Olympics are political in spite of themselves. Host countries
are chosen for manifold reasons, some of which have something to do with
their governments. Apartheid South Africa was excluded from the Games while
East Germany and Cuba were welcome and prospered. When Jimmy Carter was
casting about for some means of expressing his displeasure at the Soviet
invasion of Afghanistan, he settled on a U.S. boycott of the 1980 Games in
Moscow. (Moscow and its satellites, in turn, shunned the 1984 Games in Los
Angeles.)
Hanging over all this is the shadow of the 1936 Olympic Games in Berlin.
According to Tom Lantos, "History shows that Olympic hosts gain immeasurably
in international esteem. Hitler basked in the international limelight the
Games afforded him."
Yet as even Congressman Lantos must know, that is not exactly true.
There is no question that "Hitler basked in the international limelight,"
and took considerable pains to put on a good show. But, if anything, the
Games detracted from whatever "international esteem" the Nazis enjoyed in
1936. Instead of focusing on the achievements of the Hitler regime -- low
unemployment, autobahns, etc. -- the foreign press tended to emphasize its
sinister character, and lampooned the doctrine of Aryan racial superiority.
In any event, the dramatic victories of the black American sprinters Jesse
Owens and Ralph Metcalfe left the Germans chastened; and 65 years later,
that is all anyone remembers about the Olympics in Berlin.
It is worth noting, as well, that politics governed the choice of
Berlin. The International Olympic Committee had settled on Germany in 1931
as a means of encouraging the struggling Weimar Republic. Two years later,
of course, the Weimar Republic had been supplanted by the Nazis; but the
Olympics still took place in Berlin as planned.
In 1936 there was considerable debate about whether American athletes
ought to participate in "Hitler's Games," and many of the themes sound
familiar today. The Olympic ideal, it was said, would be stained by any
association with Hitler, and the Nazi regime should be scorned, not
rewarded. And yet, if that argument had prevailed, Jesse Owens and Ralph
Metcalfe would never have gone to Berlin, and German runners would have
ratified Hitler's racial
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