Dismayed as I was after Pakistan’s worst-ever showing at an Olympic games, I couldn’t help noticing — quite enviously, I admit — that several countries were celebrating the end of their medal droughts and the achievement of “firsts” at the Beijing games.
But some medalists weren’t humming their home country’s national anthem when they were presented their bouquet of flowers. Instead, the medalists were donned in the colors of other nations — places they adopted because of the opportunities these countries offered.
The games may have been the biggest ever, but they were also the most cosmopolitan in Olympic history. No less than 33 foreign-born athletes competed for the United States alone in the Beijing games. The fast-growing trend was perhaps inevitable, given the effects globalization has had in breaking down national borders. And it was inevitable that the change would be controversial.
Jacques Rogge, the president of the International Olympic Committee, has termed the change of nationalities for sporting reasons a “mercenary” act and has criticized athletes for exchanging patriotism for money. In a bid to curb the previously unrestrained drain of talent from countries with inadequate resources, the IOC enacted a three-year waiting period before athletes can represent their adopted country — an approach similar to the NCAA’s rules for athletes who transfer from other colleges.
Despite the IOC’s efforts, though, the cross-border movement of athletes hasn’t stopped. While Michael Phelps — Ann Arbor’s new favorite son — was seemingly breaking records for fun, athletes from across the globe were flying the flag high for their adopted countries. Only three of the 35 paddlers of Chinese origin donned the red and yellow. Two ex-Brazilian volleyball players made a political statement when they defeated Russia wearing Georgian colors, in the midst of a war between the two countries. And then there were the three Chinese-born table-tennis players who ended Singapore’s 48-year medal drought.
But are the IOC’s restrictions warranted, given the fact that choosing a country to represent is, after all, the athlete’s choice to make? At the root of that question, though, is a more far-reaching one: Are the Olympics a competition between countries or the best athletes in the world?
Inevitably, the second question is where the problem lies. Unless athletes can prove that their potential isn’t being fully realized or honed in their own country, there is seemingly no reason to think the Olympics don’t already showcase the world’s most exciting talent.
What is compromised in the IOC’s current process, of course, is the will of athletes to make what would seem to be a personal decision regarding their sporting careers. Though the IOC makes allowances for extraneous circumstances — like inadequate facilities in an athlete’s home country or biological ties to a country other than an athlete’s own — it seems unreasonable that athletes should need to obtain the IOC’s approval before making their choice.
But let’s assume there are no restrictions on athletes’ choices. If, for some inexplicable reason, Phelps decided to don a green swimsuit for Pakistan, I would have been quite happy. His individual tally of eight gold medals would have tied him for ninth place on the gold medals table in this year’s games — higher than 196 countries’ totals. But I probably wouldn’t have been as happy as I would have had a native Pakistani won a single gold.
The success of Bahrain’s highly rated Morocco-born athlete Rashid Ramzi echoes this dilemma. Are Bahrainis willing to celebrate the success of a hired athlete while local athletes are left to languish in the background?
That is what the trend spells for a country acquiring foreign athletes. In the short run, there’s immediate glory and a higher place in the medal table. Ideally, this success would raise the bar, compelling local athletes to train harder to uphold their country’s glory. On the other hand, the exorbitant amounts of money being used to attract superstars might be better spent scouting and nurturing local talent.
It’s unlikely — given the current popularity and momentum of the trend — that countries with the resources to attract the best foreign talent will acknowledge the argument in favor of local development.
Under pressure from prominent members like the United States, the disapproving IOC might eventually have no option but to give in. So will the Olympics of the future be preceded by a National Football League-style draft? Maybe. Regardless of our personal misgivings about border-hopping athletes and the undesirable commercialization of a sacred tradition, we may well be witnessing the future of global games in a cosmopolitan world.
Emad Ansari is a Public Policy sophomore.