Let the Games Be Games

We journalists tend by nature to be observers rather than activists. But back in 1968, when I was still a college student, I wrote the only protest letter of my life.

After sprinters Tommie Smith and John Carlos had made international headlines with their black power salutes from the Olympic podium in Mexico City, Avery Brundage, the right-wing American who was at the time the head of the International Olympic Committee, ordered their expulsion from the Olympic village and suspension from the U.S. team. I wrote Brundage decrying his decision, insisting that the two men had represented our country with great dignity on and off the track and that their protest embodied America's finest free-speech traditions.

Now, 40 years later, I remain a fervent believer in free speech. But I confess, as the issue threatens to once again provoke an Olympic controversy—this time at the 2008 Games this August in Beijing—my view is a little more nuanced. There is currently outrage brewing that some of the international federations—the British appear to be in the forefront, and there is suspicion that the U.S. Olympic Committee is of a like mind—are trying to put the clamps on any athletic protests that might offend the sensibilities of the Olympic host nation.

The folks who are most outraged tend to have a very specific vision of these curbs on free speech. They are hoping that these Olympics, rather than being a coming-out party for China, will shine an unfavorable light on the country's human rights and international trade practices. Most particularly they want to create pressure on China because of its economic ties with Sudan, a relationship that, opponents say, helps prop up a murderous regime there and allows it to persist in policies that are known as the Darfur genocide.

Quite frankly, if every medalist from every country would raise a fist, shout a word or make some gesture against the horror in Darfur, I would probably be thrilled. But that fantasy stems from a limited perspective on what free speech in a complex and polarized world might mean. Absolute free speech could mean that, along with a Darfur protest, Iranian weightlifters insult their Zionist neighbor and Serbian basketball players denounce the breakaway state of Kosovo. And while Chinese complicity with Darfur may appall Americans, much of the world regards the United States as the most egregious offender in the world on many fronts. If our well-intentioned athletes start bashing China, you might begin to hear equally harsh views on a number of American policies like Guantánamo Bay or the Kyoto Protocol or support for Israel.

Of course, that prospect may not alarm everyone in the United States. Some may even welcome a bit of a public shaming. But it would serve no useful purpose and would be more likely to produce a backlash than any constructive change. Besides, so much of life is already a cacophony of conflicting worldviews, with fingers pointing back and forth in every which direction. The Olympics is not meant to be the United Nations, but rather the united nations. Its beauty, at least as an ideal if not always in practice, is that for 17 days countries can transcend, or at least set aside, their differences in a common endeavor. Obviously, we can point to a host of failures in Olympics past. But there have also been precious moments when nations found common ground within the Olympic cocoon.

I recently attended a session with a group of top American Olympic aspirants at which some of us pesky journalists tried to stir things up by asking what the athletes would think of attempts to constrict their free-speech rights in China. Most of these folks are young and rather single-minded in their Olympic pursuits. Most seemed unaware of any controversy, and some, I dare say, aren't even aware of Darfur, at least not on a sophisticated level. Sure, some of them may in six months find themselves in a unique position, with the attention of billions around the world for one shining moment. But few of them are in a position, one that reflects both knowledge and commitment, to preach to that audience.

Rather than athletes trying to use the bully podium, it would be preferable to see them following the example of Joey Cheek. After Cheek, an American speed skater, won the gold medal in the 500 meters at the 2006 Winter Games in Torino, he donated his $25,000 "bonus" from the U.S. Olympic Committee to Right to Play, an international organization founded by Norwegian Olympic great Johan Olav Koss. Right to Play uses sport to promote humanitarian, health and development initiatives around the world. Cheek's donation (he later added another $15,000 in prize money from his 1,000-meter race) was earmarked for Sudanese refugees in Darfur. No surprise that his U.S. teammates selected Cheek to carry the American flag at the closing ceremonies. Cheek's gift and the opportunity the Olympics provided him to promote it inspired several hundred thousand dollars in donations.

The last thing we need is a Tower of Babel in Beijing. We do need more American athletes like Cheek to be true role models and to put their fame and fortune behind causes like Koss's that make a genuine difference in the most blighted and afflicted corners of the world. It may not represent the outer limits of free speech, and it is decidedly not "free," but it has far more enduring value than a brief moment of righteous indignation.