The BBC reports that Britain has ‘set an Olympic record’ by getting all the countries in the UN (some 193 of them) to co-sponsor a truce resolution for London 2012; the first time every country has signed up in the history of the Games. http://bbc.in/pF5igw

 We blogged about the Olympic truce some time ago (6 July 2010) but make no apologies about raising the subject again in the light of this achievement, which apparently took weeks to engineer and which involved lots of lobbying, and even detective work, on the part of British diplomats. Lord Coe was then able to present the resolution to the General Assembly – as a done deal, one assumes.

 The devotees of the Olympic truce are many and varied. They range from institutions like the Olympic Truce Centre in Lausanne: http://bit.ly/ox7VJB to individuals. Not the least of the latter is Lord Michael Bates who has elected to walk from Greece to London in order to promote the UN resolution, and whose Walk for Truce website has details and a video about the attempt, as well as real time information about where Lord Bates has reached (Switzerland as we write). The English peer’s aim is to make the resolution a reality in terms of its actually being implemented throughout the world, as opposed to merely being paid lip service to  - which has too often been the case in the past. See this link for the website: http://bit.ly/mDHIbk

 A number of other initiatives are being pursued elsewhere. The Peace Museum in collaboration with Coventry University’s Centre for Peace and Reconciliation Studies launched an exhibition called ‘Playing for peace’ in Coventry Cathedral earlier this month which celebrates occasions when sport - and the Olympics in particular - was instrumental in promoting peace http://bit.ly/joUEry

 Elite sport is particularly well placed to promote peace. Athletes who regularly travel the world competing against those of other nations almost invariably have a great deal of respect for their opponents and there are numerous examples of close friendships developing between competitors whose native countries eye each other with suspicion. Taken – as they are - out of the arena of diplomacy and foreign policy, international sporting, social and cultural encounters often result in  better understanding at an individual level and promote feelings of warmth which prevail over stereotypes. On the other hand, it can’t be denied that some sporting competitions can lead to heightened feelings of antipathy. Team sports specifically seem to lend themselves to this type of thing. It’s as if the team – our group of people against theirs - comes to symbolise, more than an individual can do, a state of war. This is certainly the case within national boundaries, where one football team and its fans engage in defending their territory against another. Clearly the issue of territoriality is key. So it isn’t all doves and laurels where sport and peace are concerned.

 Jerry Jenkins the British Library’s curator for international organisations has a particular interest in how these two elements: sport and internationalism naturally come together. Read his article for the Olympics & Paralympics website here : http://bit.ly/cORoug

 

 

Simone Bacchini writes:

With the Olympics approaching fast, the issue of doping is never far below the radar. The public and the media are enamoured of two things: elite sport, and the idea - or ideal - that it should be “clean”, by which is meant a number of attributes: among them fairness, honesty, and freedom from “performance-enhancing drugs”. But is this really possible?

Pierre de Coubertin borrowed from Bishop Talbot, in 1908, the phrase that taking part is what matters, not winning. It became the maxim that, perhaps more than any other, has exemplified the spirit of the Olympics and, more generally, of sport. But has it ever been true in practice, or has it always been just that: an ideal?

Professional athletes are never just athletes. Society has assigned to them many, often competing, roles. Consider the oft used label “role-model”. Who actually decided that athletes should aspire to this? And isn’t it telling that we usually hear this description when one of them has been caught doing something society objects to? I’m not sure in what ways an athlete differs from any other celebrity; perhaps it’s because – as a society – we still operate under the assumption that sport is the natural site of good, desirable values, like honesty.

Which brings me to my topic of doping. I was really impressed by a recent interview with Scottish cyclist David Millar. David was (well is) a brilliant cyclist whose career has been marred by revelations of doping that landed him a prison stint, a hefty fine, and a racing ban. Obviously, I’m not privy to all the details of Millar’s story (and by the way, I got the above information mainly from…you’ve guessed it, Wikipedia). However, what clearly transpires from his interview with the BBC (which can be watched by following this link http://bbc.in/bNnmC8) is the sense of impotence, almost of inevitability that he felt. What Millar depicts in the interview is the image of a young, promising athlete caught up in an environment where the prevailling motto could have been: “what’s important is not taking part; it’s winning. At all costs”. And win he did. And the cost was high, very high indeed.

Obviously, I have no way of verifying the details of the story. They are, however, strikingly similar to the ones voiced by other athletes. Does this mean that the public’s idea of the world of elite sport is outdated? And do we – the public – still believe that taking part matters more than winning? Provocatively, I’d like to ask: is this really true?

References:

Hunt, T.M. Drug Games: The International Olympic Committee and the Politics of Doping, 1960-2008. Austin, Tex: University of Texas Press, 2011.

DS shelfmark: m11/.13123

Miah, A. Genetically Modified Athletes: Biomedical Ethics, Gene Doping and Sport. London: Routledge, 2004.

London reference collections shelfmark: YK.2006.a.3899

 Møller, V. The Ethics of Doping and Anti-doping: Redeeming the Soul of Sport? London: Routledge, 2010.

London reference collections shelfmark: SPIS 362.29 MOL 10

 

Of all the wonderful art galleries in London, the one that I am fondest of is the National Portrait Gallery, which is tucked away to the side of the National Gallery on St Martin’s Place, near Trafalgar Square. Whatever my current interests and concerns, I can always find something stimulating and enlightening there, from the astonishing portraits of the Tudors and their court by Hans Holbein to action shots of Mick Jagger and his contemporaries. Actually seeing the faces of people you have read about adds another dimension to your understanding of them; sometimes surprises you, and sometimes seems to reveal attributes that perhaps even the sitter and the artist aren’t aware of.

 At the moment, the NPG has a very interesting exhibition of photographic portraits called Road to 2012, which is a project that is part of the cultural Olympiad. It’s available online:

 http://roadto2012.npg.org.uk/timeline

 The project, which is funded by the NPG and BT, not only features the athletes preparing for the Olympics and Paralympics but also the ‘project enablers’: the behind-the-scenes men and women who are getting the show on the road. There are also opportunities for people living and working in the Olympic boroughs themselves to demonstrate how the Olympic and Paralympic games experience has inspired and affected them by giving them an opportunity to upload their own photographs on Flickr.

 The photographs themselves are fascinating. Some show athletes training amidst beautiful scenery. Some show them hard at work with their coaches in gyms and swimming pools. Others are of people in offices and on the Stratford site, standing in various attitudes. The images are in chronological order, so you can trace the development of the project through the characters depicted.

 What comes across? Well, to me the portraits strongly suggest two particular elements: that of quiet determination certainly, but also a sense of the essential aloneness of each person, even when that person is in the presence of others. It is a sense I suppose of their feelings of individual responsibly, whether those lie in wrestling with the logistics of marketing or communication, or in improving strength and endurance in the water or on a bike or a horse.

 I wonder how future generations will view these images and what messages they will receive from them? Portraits – unlike that of Dorian Gray – change over time, becoming invested with our knowledge of what has transpired since the sitter was first portrayed.

The British Library has a number of portraits, some of which are paintings that have come down to us from the old India Office Library. The great majority of them, however, appear in our magnificent collection of autobiographies and biographies, and often represent the only depictions of the people written about, whether they be grainy old photographs or engravings taken from paintings now lost. I have to admit that when I buy a biography my first action is to pore over the endlessly fascinating pictures – it’s a poor biography that doesn’t have them.

 So all power to the National Portrait Gallery and Road to 2012!

 

 

 

 

Simone Bacchini writes:

 Last week, I attended a one-day symposium at De Montfort University, in Leicester, whose theme was: “Historical Perspectives on Jews and British Sport”. Six extremely interesting presentations told the stories of prominent British-Jewish sportspeople; some as well known as the sprinter Harold Abrahams – immortalised in “Chariots of Fire”, others unknown by the general public (certainly by me!), such as the successful bridge player Fritzi Gordon. Born in Vienna to Jewish parents, she immigrated to Britain following the Anschluss of 1938.

 The story of Jewish involvement in British sports remains largely untold, or little known; a situation that this symposium began to address. All the papers were extremely interesting but I was particularly impressed by Dr David Dee’s presentation: a panoramic of Jews and British sport since c1800. The subtitle, “integration, ethnicity, and anti-Semitism” well illustrated the role that sport plays for the presentation and negotiation of different, at times conflicting, identities for Jews involved in sport. Sport is often the means by which conflicts and prejudices are played out; sometimes to be resolved, sometimes to be accentuated.

 If I may risk a bold comparison, I would go as far as saying that sport is very much like sex. Both activities are very rarely - perhaps never - about what, on the surface, they purport to be. What goes on in the privacy of one’s personal space takes on meanings that extend well beyond it. Similarly, what is played out within the confined space of the race-track or the football stadium has implications that go far beyond performance and victory (or defeat). In passing, it’s also quite interesting that both sex and sport are highly embodied activities.

 Leaving sexuality aside (this blog , after all, is meant to be more Sport & the City than Sex & the City and I – alas – am no Carrie Bradshaw), what clearly emerged from the talks in Leicester was that – consciously or unconsciously – all these sports persons were enlisted in efforts that were cultural, as much as physical. Especially in its early stages, involvement in sport was seen by many Jews as a way of becoming anglicised. It was thought that this involvement would lead these (mostly) men to acquire the distinctive (and desirable) values of British society: fair-play, teamwork, and loyalty. Sport, in other words, represented an attempt at nation-building and integration or assimilation. By taking part in the host country’s pursuits, and abiding by its rules, immigrants and their children could show they were indistinguishable from the rest, and posed no threat.

 Perhaps this was too heavy a burden for many. After all, what most wanted was to compete, to be a sports person. During the talks my mind went to another athlete, from another era and from another minority: the brilliant boxer Amir Khan. Although he always does it gracefully and - apparently - effortlessly, I’ve often wondered how demanding and challenging it must be, at times, to be so often displayed (dare I say “used”?) as the poster boy for ethnic integration and inter-community harmony in today’s Britain.

 Perhaps that’s an unavoidable consequence of involvement in any sporting activity. It may even be desirable, but it goes to show that sport matters, not only to the hardcore fan, but also to the social scientist. It is an enormous stage upon which so much more than competition is displayed. Indeed, it is truly a spectacle, and none more so than the Olympics. Let the show begin!

 References:

Dee, G. D. Jews and British Sport: Integration, Ethnicity, and Anti-Semitism c1880-c1960. DeMontfort University, Unpublished PhD thesis, 2011. View online at http://bit.ly/qXUr9L

 Ethnicity, Sport, Identity: Struggles for Status. Mangan, J.A. and Ritchie, A. (eds.) London: Frank Cass, 2004.

London reference collections shelfmark: YC.2007.a.450

The gasp of shock and disappointment that greeted Usain Bolt’s disqualification from the 100m final at the IAAF world cup just over a week ago was probably reproduced in just about every athletics-loving household in the world. One moment we were eagerly awaiting the sight of Bolt storming to the finish, and the next we were seeing him disappearing in the direction of the dressing rooms. How could this possibly have happened? For British fans there was the added disappointment of seeing Dwayne Chambers and Christine Ohuruogu disqualified for exactly the same reason – getting a ‘flyer’.

Under current regulations it’s easily done. One twitch, one unintended reaction at the starting blocks, and that’s it. You get no second chance (as used to be the case) and no one is exempt. What happens next inevitably comes as a dreadful anticlimax to the audience, although not, in this instance, for Bolt’s training partner Yohan Blake who won the race in a fabulous 9.9 seconds. Bolt himself had no complaints to make. He had made a mistake and he accepted it immediately.

To the IAAF’s credit it made no bones about the fact that it might have got it wrong, and said it would reconsider ‘the one strike and you’re out’ rule, which came into effect on 1 January 2010. Sebastian Coe is reported to have said that the rules should not be reversed, but one wonders if a long distance athlete could conceivably share the perspective of the speed merchants themselves. Who but they know what it means to be delicately poised at the start of a hundred metre race where fractions of a second count, super alert to the slightest sound or movement that will light the blue touch paper, and twitching in both mind and body.

So we are left with something of a dilemma. Do we suffer the sometimes endless succession of false starts that occurred under the old system or do we risk a big disappointment (and perhaps penalise someone who didn’t actually mean to do it)? To me, the old system of ‘two strikes and you’re out’ made sense. If someone made a false start under these rules, his break was noted and he made absolutely sure he didn’t make the same mistake next time, to the extent that he’d be extra cautious at the replay - which was punishment of a sort. In return for this, the excited audience would stand a good chance of seeing the super stars run, with little fear of an agonising disappointment. Does it really need saying that nowadays you have to bear the audience in mind when you consider these things? Cricket umpires are increasingly being put on the defensive about their rulings on playing in poor light, and there is a growing consciousness that the paying public have a right to their money’s worth. But how to accommodate this with the structure imposed by The Rules?

 Clearly we need them: the rules that is. But when do they cross the line between being useful and being counter-productive? So interesting to see what happens next!

 Simone Bacchini writes:

Recently, I’ve sent out two tweets about Olympic logos. One tweet merely referred our readers to the existence of a website that’s catalogued most logos of the modern Olympics http://t.co/84GglK0. The other was a link to an article by Justin McGuirk on the unveiling of the Brazilian logo for the 2016 Games, containing the author’s musings on the art of creating a successful Olympic logo http://bit.ly/eMgnkT.

 I agree with McGuirk. Nowadays, briefs for designers ask for too much. Logos are supposed to convey far too many messages: values such as inclusiveness and diversity; emotions such as “passion” and “transformation” (as in: the-unifying-power-of-sport-will-transform-you). And if too much is asked of a logo (a LOGO, for goodness sake!) we end up – as McGuirk points out – with too little or – to put it differently – blandness. The latter, according to McGuirk, is often down to the requirement that the logo be “inoffensive”.

 In my opinion, simplicity tends to win, and endure. Just think of religious symbols (bear with me on this, after all I’m the one who blogged about the Olympics and St. Augustine). Christianity: two intersecting lines and there you have it; the cross. Islam: the simple crescent; and the Star of David (or Magen David, the “shield” of David, to give it its proper name): two intersecting triangles. What strikes me about these symbols is first of all that – like I said – from a design point of view they are simple. Secondly, they are instantly recognisable and, as a result of the two previous factors, they are still in use after centuries.

 There is something else. Behind each of the religious symbols mentioned lie strong, meaningful values; bold statements of belief, with which one might   agree or disagree. The symbols, reflecting this, are bold too, without trying too hard which – McGuirk opines – is one of the reasons behind much of current Olympic imagery failing to make a (lasting) impression.

 McGuirk lists some of the logos that – in his view – have been successful: Otl Acher’s logo for Munich 1972 (and especially the pictograms depicting the different sports), Lance Wyman’s design for Mexico 1968 (my personal favourite), and Ivan Chairmayeff’s logo for the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. He did leave out, however, the Olympic logo par excellence: the Olympic rings. True, his article was about logos for individual Games and their host cities. But I’m of the opinion that the rings – because they possess all the qualities I mentioned when talking about religious symbols – are here to stay. Notwithstanding all the transformations the Games will undoubtedly go through, those five intersecting rings will endure.

 Long live good design then; even when (or perhaps especially when) it happens accidentally.

References 

Aicher, O. The World as Design. Berlin: Ernst & Sohn, 1994

DS shelfmark: m03/33574

 Evamy, M. Logo. London: Laurence King. 2007.

London reference collections shelfmark: YK.2008.a.20961

 

Last week we uploaded to the Olympics website an article by our Canadian and Caribbean curator Phil Hatfield (http://bit.ly/rjeFiJ). It’s about the Canadian runner Tom Longboat, a Native American from the Onondaga nation who represented his country at the 1908 Olympics and was a formidable runner.

Longboat’s dramatic and unexpected triumph at the Boston marathon of 1907 thrust him into the limelight and burdened him with the huge expectations of the Canadian public and media. A number of ensuing successes made him odds-on favourite to win the Olympic marathon in London but unfortunately he was one of the many competitors who collapsed in the unusually hot conditions which prevailed on the day. This was of course the marathon which made Dorando – himself in a state of collapse – world famous. Two long distance matches were later arranged between these two men, both of which were won by the Canadian.

Prejudice and controversy dogged Tom Longboat throughout his career. His failure at the Olympics was attributed to the misuse of stimulants, and his amateur status was loudly questioned by his opponents. Later, when he did turn professional, he had numerous problems with his managers, one of whom sold his contract to an American promoter for $2000.

Inevitably, racism played its part in people’s perceptions of him, and Phil’s article takes a close look at his metamorphosis from private individual to national hero, using two photographs from the British Library’s Canadian collections to emphasise both the ‘fluidity of biography’ and the awareness that must be brought to the evaluation of sporting and cultural legacy, ‘especially when race and nationalism are significant factors’.

The images of Tom Longboat, which were taken by the photographer Charles Aylett in 1907, form part of a collection of Canadian photographs which were acquired by the Library between 1895 and 1924. They were received under Colonial Copyright Law from photographers who wished to register them as copyrighted material, and they form a fascinating resource of images of Canada captured by a number of professional and amateur photographers in the Dominion. As with many of these ‘incidental’ acquisitions, the photographs lay largely fallow on the Library shelves until Phil wrote his Ph.D on them, thereby bringing out their significance and value to scholarship. Phil’s thesis can be accessed at http://bit.ly/pLm1iW

References

Kidd, Bruce. Tom Longboat. Don Mills: Fitzhenry & Whiteside, [1980]

London reference collections shelfmark:  X.629/24653

 

 

 

 

Whatever you think about the sporting events themselves, there’s one thing about the Olympics which always draws the crowds and that’s the opening ceremony. These events have been increasing exponentially in scale and razzle-dazzle over the years, and one of the main problems for each host city these days is the question of how to improve on the previous city’s efforts. Beijing really upped the ante in 2008 and one could easily imagine the good souls at LOCOG getting glummer and glummer as they watched each mind-boggling set piece unfold. No chance of trumping that approach, so what other extreme can we opt for: something whimsically cack-handed perhaps; something charmingly rustic and spontaneous; Sooty and Sweep? Well, your guess is as good as mine, and the actual event will for some time be as deep and dark a secret as the Duchess of Cambridge’s wedding dress was. What we do know now though, is that LOCOG have started on the process of choosing the participants in the ceremony and have called for 10,000 volunteers. (http://bit.ly/oOOPuu )

Of course opening and closing ceremonies weren’t always like this. The opening ceremony at the 1948 London Games involved some massed bands, some marching and the usual IOC rituals of the singing of the Olympic hymn, the taking of the Olympic oath and the lighting of the Olympic flame (all of which must be included, whatever flights of fancy the host city has in mind for the rest of the occasion). However, it is inevitable that such globally consumed events take on a significance which is to some extent disassociated from the sport to follow. The host city and the nation to which it belongs are on show. Much depends – in terms of reputation and other more convoluted attributes – on impressing the world audience in some way or another, depending on what impression you actually wish to leave them with.

For those with a sociological turn of mind, the subtext to these ceremonies is by far the most interesting aspect of the whole thing. What are these host cities really trying to put across, we ask ourselves: how inclusive they are, how democratic, how disciplined, how efficient, how inventive, how colourful? Or even how pragmatic they are, perhaps. Will London 2012 opt to say to the world ‘it’s all very exciting, but isn’t this opening ceremony thing getting just a bit too much?’ For sure, if we do manage to lower the ante, generations of host cities can only thank us for it.

See our mega events bibliography for books and journal articles on ceremonies: http://bit.ly/mVPqfS