Put rights on the podium
As spectators stream into the stands for the Rio Olympics, the world’s attention has focused on the city’s sewage-filled waters, the deadly Zika virus and dirty drugging. But the bigger picture is Brazil’s murky human rights record. And it is only one of a number of countries that routinely violate rights in the lead-up to mega sporting events.
Last week Amnesty International cited a “shocking”103-per-cent rise in killings by police this spring over the same period last year, an apparent attempt to counter the country’s high crime rate ahead of the Games, and to paste a smiley face on a city where robbery and violence is rife and the beaches have been targets for gangs of destitute street children. As part of the “cleansing” effort, some have been jammed into overcrowded jails, others have reportedly disappeared.
These worrying developments are nothing new in the world of Big Sport. It’s a world where image is too often the priority, and Olympic ideals such as human rights, ethical behaviour and public good have been increasingly left behind.
That’s partly because wealthy and more democratic countries are less likely to host the Games. Big sporting events often lack popular support for the risk of ballooning costs and plummeting returns as austerity bites into national budgets and growth slows to a crawl. A recent analysis by the Council on Foreign Relations shows that the cost of merely bidding for the Olympics has more than tripled over the past two decades, while cost overruns for fulfilling the plans have become the rule rather than the exception.
However, more repressive countries that can ignore or manipulate public opinion are eagerly competing to burnish their tarnished reputations and gain points on the international stage.
In one unsettling example, Kazakhstan — where peaceful protesters are jailed, newspapers shut down and freedom of religion curtailed — was up against China for hosting the 2022 Winter Olympics after Oslo withdrew from the race. China, the winner, had already been condemned for its rights violations during the 2008 Summer Games.
Although the Olympic Charter obligates hosts to respect human dignity and reject discrimination on grounds of race, religion, politics, gender or “otherwise,” repressive countries have come to expect a free pass from the International Olympic Committee. Human Rights Watch has documented a dismal list of recurring rights violations: forced evictions to make way for massive new infrastructure development, abuse and exploitation of migrant workers, silencing of civil society and rights activists, threats and arrests of journalists and rampant discrimination such as Russia’s anti-LGBT laws. A similar list applies to other major sports events like the World Cup.
So how can the abuses surrounding these huge sporting events be reversed?
Toughening the rules is a start. After 2022, the IOC will require prospective hosts to enforce their own laws on planning, construction and environmental protection, health, safety and labour conditions — or face cancellation of their Olympic contracts. They must also abide by international laws on civil and political rights.
FIFA, meanwhile, has commissioned an independent human rights study of Qatar, which hosts the World Cup in 2022, with a view to pressuring the wealthy Gulf country to improve its treatment of migrant workers. It is also reacting to criticism for its hands-off approach to allegations of abuses in the past.
But success in reforming international sporting events will depend on careful monitoring and the will to call human rights violators to account. The world will be watching. “Olympism seeks to create a way of life based on the joy of effort, the educational value of good example, social responsibility and respect for universal fundamental ethical principles,” says the Charter. Now the IOC must decide whether the much-vaunted Olympic spirit is a reality, or a Disneyfied fantasy that masks the inconvenient truths.
As spectators stream into the stands for the Rio Games, the bigger picture is Brazil’s murky human rights record