On Politics in Sports

In this essay, editor Lene Haugerud reflects on contemporary sportswashing – and other moral dilemmas in sports.

This summer’s demonstrations against the Tokyo Olympics was of a very different nature than other recent debates criticizing the Qatar World Cup and the Beijing Olympics. That doesn’t mean they should be dismissed, as by scaling any sort of protest up against one another we are at the same time belittling the cause.

As I set out writing this piece, a large quantity of Japanese people flooded the streets of Tokyo, rallying behind a sense of unrest that the Olympics were little more than an act of sportswashing from the Japanese government; a way of restoring its image after the horrific nuclear accident in Fukushima nine years prior. But the demonstrations also held another sense of more immediate urgency; that of the corona virus, and it’s then spread at an unprecedented speed.

On a record day amidst the games, Tokyo reported 5042 Covid cases, locals were completely fed-up with not being prioritized by its own government. The feeling was, at least as reported by the media, one of despair as the health system, underfunded for years, was kneeling under the pressure of the pandemic – while the official budget for the Tokyo Olympics came in at a staggering $15.4 billion dollars. It was all very Japan first, without the sour aftertaste of that particular connotation.

One thing that really differentiated the Tokyo protests from those of Beijing or Qatar, was that this wasn’t an internationally-run campaign. Rather, it was mostly locals raising their voices as loud as they possibly could – albeit, mostly to deaf ears, and international newspapers not willing to offer them much ink.

I must admit that, personally, however much the arguments resonated with me – I found it hard to get my head (and heart, to be honest) around shutting down the games once the Olympic flame was already lit – and athletes from all around the world already sound asleep on their infamous cardboard beds. At this point, it was all just a little too late.

But the Tokyo Olympics played host to other ethical and moral dilemmas too. Or not dilemmas per say, as in my opinion these are pretty clear-cut cases. Because of course the live TV images should be allowed to show athletes kneeling in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement, and of course any athlete who wishes to do so should be allowed to make such an important statement. This lack of moral backbone will remain a permanent stain on the IOC and The Norwegian Sports Confederation, together with other nations holding onto the same official views for way too long. Kneeling for the wrong cause, not against racism, but to the pressure of the IOC. Luckily, and mostly thanks to the American athletes who refused to accept such a conservative ban, paragraph 50 was softened slightly just before the games kicked off. Though it was not nearly softened enough, as any political statements were still not allowed on the pitch nor during official ceremonies.

Coming from Norway, the country of the Nobel Peace Prize and the self-proclaimed nation of high moral ground, I was devastated by the lack of moral courage showed by the NSC. Just like I was outraged at UEFA for not allowing Germany to light up their stadium, Allianz Arena, in the colours of the rainbow during pride month earlier this summer. The board rooms were these decisions are made, are filled with the rationals of bygone eras.

Again, coming from Norway, the country of the Nobel Peace Prize and the self-proclaimed nation of high moral ground, I was also ashamed to learn that our first gold winner (in triathlon) – Kristian Blummenfelt – was sponsored by the brutal regime of Bahrain. A sponsorship deal that the Norwegian Sports Confederation had agreed to, mind you, making the whole thing even more shocking. For while Blummenfelt’s own naivete might be frightening, the powerful’s keen disregard of human rights violations, and condonation by association, is nothing but unforgivable. But sadly, Blummenfelt is not a sole offender, as my own childhood hero, and Olympic superstar Ole Einar Bjørndalen, has taken on training the Chinese biathlon team in the run up to the Beijing Olympics, apparently completely oblivious to the political pawn he is in their game. A fancy soap to off their stink. But since there is always going to be naivete of individuals, who either by greed or a lack of knowledge makes these choices, we need strong organisations that sets rules and limits, that say no. And we need a media that keeps them accountable.

And we need such actions to take place before the games are even awarded. Or just like Tokyo, it will all end up being a little too late.

Despite the half-hearted efforts of Norwegian footballers, wearing their version of statement t-shirts before changing into their national jerseys, Qatar seems a little too late too. The grass root efforts to boycott the games was once again squashed down by those at the top. This time, the Norwegian Football Association – who held a sham vote over whether to boycott the games – in which over 6500 migrant workers have lost their lives, and so many more have suffered from building luxurious football stadiums that will be dismantled, or left empty, as soon as that gold trophy is lifted above eleven overpaid footballers heads. But as the pandemic has showed us, the Norwegian Football Association seem to think they are so special that they get to play by a very different set of rules than the rest of us; that what they do is so important it out-triumphs pandemic regulations, human rights – or even death. But of course, they don’t say that in so many words, that would be poor taste.

The World Cup in Qatar is of course a human rights violation of modern historic proportions. But all in the name of football, right?

Unfortunately, that’s not all that’s wrong with upcoming World Cup though, which we’ll all probably watch anyways (myself included, because that’s the true hypocrisy of the world we live in), the corruption that secured Qatar the games is also unprecedented. And that fact says a lot in and by itself, because let’s face it – the beloved game is no stranger to a corruption scandal or five. In fact, 18 of the 22 who voted for awarding the 2022 World Cup to Qatar, has since either been suspended, arrested or charged with corruption. Of the four that hasn’t been sanctioned, one of them, Marios Lefkaritis of Cyprus, did in fact sell real estate worthy of 300 million NOK to a state-owned stock fund in Qatar, just before he casted his vote in their favour. It really gets you thinking, if that didn’t translate to corruption, what the hell happened in those other 18 cases?!

A lot of regimes are guilty of sportswashing, Bahrain, Russia, Japan, Qatar and Beijing, to name just a few. And compared to the other four on that list, Japan doesn’t really seem so bad – at least not on an international scale. And while I opened this essay by saying we shouldn’t set different protests up against one another, the same principle doesn’t apply to the offenders. Amnesty International, who are strongly opposed to the governments of both Qatar and China, and who strongly advocate for human rights in both countries, has stated that when it comes to the Qatar World Cup and The Beijing Olympics respectively, there is actually a fundamental difference. In China, human rights violations are there all the time, meaning the Olympics serve as sportswashing polishing an already stained image, while in Qatar, the World Cup is directly causing the human right violations, and subsequently the deaths of thousands of migrant workers. The direct link of cause and effect really makes a major difference in how we should view these major sport events, and it showcases why a boycott of Qatar should have been the only moral path to take.

But to end on a slightly lighter note, let’s dive into the diamond-studded, gold-chained elephant in the the room, not even bothering to hide in plain sight. Money. Because that’s what it always come down to in the end, whether we are talking corruption charges, nations too afraid to pull out and take a stand, the short-lived undemocratic dream of the Super League by a few and powerful clubs scared of falling from said power (but who instead fell from grace), or individual athletes who team up with questionable regimes, and even the giga sponsorship deals with that no one even seems to question anymore. I hate outing my personal hero, Roger Federer, in this setting, whose tennis I’ve often labelled as elegance in motion – but I sure hope it was someone sending him a copy of Naomi Klein’s No Logo that made him end a 24 year partnership with Nike. In fact, we could all do with a re-read. Sure, Klein’s book is from 1999, but just like morals – it’s a classic.