What Was the Paris Olympics?

Paris—At the closing ceremony of the Paris Olympics, outgoing International Olympic Committee President Thomas Bach said that the 2024 Summer Games “were sensational Olympic Games from start to finish.” He then added, “Or dare I say: Seine-sational Games.” Bach’s cringeworthy pun was only outmatched by the hyperbole of the Olympic faithful proclaiming Paris to be “the best Olympics ever.” In reality, amid the inspiring, often poetic, feats of athleticism, these Games magnified the social problems of Paris—and the world.

Olympians make the Olympics, and Paris 2024 was no exception. The Paris Games featured athletes who brought exquisite skill and joy to the competition, but they also brought their politics. It started with the opening ceremony, when members of the Algerian team released roses into the Seine to honor those who were shot and drowned in the river by French police in 1961, the final year of Algeria’s war of independence from colonial France. Upwards of 120 people were killed in an incident that, for decades, French officials attempted to cover up. Faïza Zerouala, a French journalist of Algerian descent who writes for Mediapart, told us, “I was very proud they did that. For me, it was proof that Algerian descendants still know who they are” and that “we don’t forget the past,” even if many in France are “blind to its colonial background.” She added, “It was a very important tribute to the martyrs.”

Later in the opening-ceremony procession, one of Palestine’s flag bearers, boxer Waseem Abu Sal, wore a white shirt embroidered with depictions of Israeli fighter jets bombing children in Gaza. He was one of eight Palestinians competing in Paris, including Layla Al-Masri who set a Palestinian national record in the 800-meter run. Fans in Paris celebrated Palestinian athletes wherever they went—even as the press largely ignored them. Few journalists bothered to interview members of the Palestinian Olympic team. The overall absence of attention Palestinian athletes received—the erasure of their struggles—mirrored the war on Gaza and the attendant suffering of deliberately unheard Palestinian civilians.

The competition brought—also underreported—political statements to the playing field. When Manizha Talash, a breakdancer from Afghanistan representing the Refugee Olympic Team, finished her performance, she unveiled a cape reading “Free Afghan Women.” While fans in attendance applauded, as did the athlete from the Netherlands against whom Talash was competing, the Olympic powerbrokers disqualified her. Yes, they disqualified someone from the refugee team for raising awareness about why she is a refugee. By disqualifying Talash, Olympic honchos essentially did the bidding of the Taliban, whose prohibition on women playing sports is precisely why she could not compete under the flag of her home country.

Zerouala also pointed to the importance of Kaylia Nemour, one of France’s top gymnasts, who chose to switch nationalities and compete for Algeria after a protracted dispute with the French gymnastics federation, which was inflexible about where the 17-year-old gymnast trained. Zerouala dubbed Nemour’s gold-medal win on the uneven bars “a colonial reparation.” The victory made Nemour the first African athlete to win a medal in Olympic gymnastics.

While there was no shortage of coverage of women’s boxing gold medalist Imane Khelif, who triumphed despite facing down bigotry and lies about her sex and gender, less was made about her winning gold in France as an Algerian. Khelif’s refusal to speak French in her last press conference, opting for Arabic and English instead, revealed a politics of resistance that Western journalists did not understand.

Politicians often try to exploit the Olympics—and Olympic athletes—for their political careers. But this backfired for French President Emmanuel Macron, whose constant, unrequested hugging of any French Olympian within his five-meter radius was off-putting. After French judoka Romane Dicko won bronze, Macron cupped her head in his hands, an experience that, she said, made her feel “a little embarrassed.” French Olympian Hugo Hay, who qualified for the final in the 5000 meters, even called out Macron for his brazen politicking, declaring, “These are not his Games, but those of the athletes.”

Macron’s tanned visage also evinced a cacophony of jeers when it appeared on the jumbotron at the Olympic fan zone in Place de la Bataille Stalingrad during the gold-medal men’s basketball game between the United States and France. And the Games did not boost his popularity: In early August only 27 percent of the country had confidence in his ability to address France’s problems, only two points higher than in early July.

Amid the media hullabaloo over the Paris Olympics, serious social issues in Paris remain unresolved. To police the Olympics, there were heavily armed security forces from more than 30 different countries, but that is not all. France’s political leaders also transformed the city into their own panopticon, with the French National Assembly greenlighting the use of algorithmic video surveillance. They built this security architecture ostensibly to prevent terrorism, but as is often the case, it was wielded against activists. (There were also heavily armed police units patrolling working-class, immigrant neighborhoods far from the Olympic zone.)