Olympic Swag

What can I say? I just don’t like nazis (spelling intentional).

The Olympics are once again center stage, forcing us to confront their inherent contradictions. The organizers aggressively patrol the borders and tell us that politics are out of bounds. That happened again this year with Ukraine. Poor Vladyslav Heraskevych, a “skeleton” racer, was disqualified for decals on his high-impact helmet. The close-up revealed a gallery of images—athletes, coaches, and what looked like Ukrainian children—all killed in in the savagery of Putin’s War. It was a noble effort to honor loss and bereavement, but the Olympic authorities saw it differently, as the contamination of sport by the filth of politics.

There was probably room to make an exception. Heraskevych’s helmet was no billboard assault, but a quiet reminder of Ukrainian suffering. I don’t think it rose even to the level of provocation. To put the matter in Jewish terms, it was the equivalent of the small black ribbons of mourning that are distributed to family at the funeral of a loved one. I know the difference between a helmet and a strip of fabric. This wasn’t even a political T-shirt. If there is consolation here, it lies in the aftermath. In a touching ceremony led by President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, Heraskevych was honored for distinguished service to the nation. It all made the Olympics feel distant and paltry.

That, and hopelessly tangled in its history. On sale this year in the Olympic swag shops were T-shirts commemorating the 1936 games. Sanctioned by the International Olympic Committee (IOC), they were a galling reference to the historic contests in Berlin.

As you may recall, that was in the run-up to the war. Concerned about their image during a period of scrutiny, the nazis stripped their cities of overt anti-Semitism. No posters, no banners, no advisories in the streets barring persecuted Jews from park benches and sidewalks. Everything was designed to tamp down criticism, a Potemkin village of egalitarian treatment. Behind the scenes, Jewish athletes were jettisoned. In front of the cameras, there was no sign of discrimination. The Olympic Committee knew about these offenses and decided against a protest or a boycott.

And this year it celebrated those very same games with a commemorative T-shirt featuring the imagery of nazism. Fantasies of brutal, German supremacy. Square-jawed Teutons and the Brandenberg Gate. The graphics were an orgy of Aryan self-congratulation.

I’m probably making too much of a T-shirt, but when it comes to politics, the Olympics never gets it right. When it assembles athletes in national cohorts, it arguably stokes the nationalism that it pretends to reject. But you could argue that it shouldn’t make things worse, either by nazi T-shirts or petty disqualifications. If an athlete wants to honor the memory of his fellow citizens, he should be valorized for his genuine gesture of bereavement. Doing anything else takes us back to Berlin.