Travel ban could affect Olympics
U.S. president’s move to restrict travel seems at odds with spirit of the Games
To travel into the United States in the days following Donald Trump’s ban on visitors from seven Muslim countries is to be immediately confronted by the faces of people the ban affects.
Airport restaurant server, snack shop cashier, hotel clerk: To pass through the service economy in a nation of immigrants is to be passed through a succession of people who evidently came to this country in search of a better life. And, at the risk of employing an old columnist trope, my cab driver from the Houston airport came from Somalia. He said he was scared. He had family planning to come, but not now. He said he didn’t want his name used. Fair enough.
But the collateral damage of the new U.S. president’s ban isn’t limited, of course, to stories of individuals who feel like the roots they were trying to put down were just severed by a spade. The impact on international sport could be farreaching.
The United States is one of three countries bidding for the right to host the 2024 Olympics, with Los Angeles previously seen as a front-runner alongside Paris for those Games. The host city will be chosen by the International Olympic Committee in September. Given the timing, the Trump move has seriously jeopardized the U.S. bid, if it hasn’t torpedoed it completely already. At least one IOC member took to social media to denounce the ban, while various sports officials expressed confusion and uncertainty over what it might mean for a country trying to host an international sporting event.
The logistics would, quite clearly, be problematic enough. As the evidence of the last few days has made clear, the new default U.S. position for visitors from countries like Iran, Iraq and Yemen is to be denied entry. There are no exceptions for those previously residing in the States, or for those with properly secured visas, which is typically the instrument used for visiting athletes. This has already raised questions for many international competitors who live and train in the United States, in many cases because they attended U.S. schools on scholarship. Britain’s Mo Farah, a four-time Olympic medallist in distance running, was unsure if he could return to his home in Oregon since he was born in Somalia. He wrote on Sunday that Trump had “made him an alien.” British officials later clarified that, as is the case with Canada, dual citizens were allowed to return to the U.S. provided they weren’t coming from one of the banned countries. What form any of this will have years from now, or even months from now, is uncertain, but it’s not something Olympic delegates are likely to assume will be neatly resolved. If the IOC is choosing between a host country that will allow all athletes to compete and a host that might ban those from several nations, it won’t be much of a decision — although the spectacle of a U.S. bid that was, say, supported by Russia and other former Communist states and was rejected by everyone else would be something to behold.
(It’s insignificant in light of the larger issues at play, but the loss of the U.S. bid in 2024 would increase the chances that Calgary could win the 2026 Olympics should it ultimately decide to enter the running. The IOC would be much more likely to put those games in North America if the preceding Games are in Europe.)
Logistics aside, the Trump ban is also at odds with a pretty significant part of the Olympic spirit. Whatever the IOC’s many flaws, and they are many, the Games themselves foster a sense of international community unlike anything else. Athletes from even the tiniest and poorest nations are represented, and there is always a story of someone who has overcome absurd challenges to make it to the Games to give those of us from wealthy nations pause. In Rio de Janeiro’s Maracana Stadium last summer, the host Brazilian team undoubtedly received the loudest cheers during the endless parade of nations at the opening ceremony. But one of the longest other ovations also came for the little band of 10 athletes from places like Sudan, Congo and Syria — the Refugee Olympic Team, most of whose athletes could not enter the United States today.
Rami Anis, a Syrian refugee and Olympic swimmer, finished 40th in one event and 56th in another, but that wasn’t the point. “We are meeting with world champions and thinking that in this pool, world champions are going to be swimming, and us side by side with them, and it’s wonderful,” he said.
Togetherness, inclusion, an overwhelming sense of welcoming — more or less the opposite of the message the new U.S. president is presently sending.