We have been glued to the Winter Olympics, TV, replays, streaming. There is something magical about the feast of the feats of daring-do. It seems like all of Italy has become a glittering stage for the event. It is a parade of nations, their young athletes skiing, soaring, skating, sledding and, of course … curling. How much curling is too much? Ah, well.
What strikes me is how much alike all the athletes are. Their victories are victories where the competitors are separated by fractions of seconds, hardly anything. Their tragedies and disappointments are felt by the entire watching world and the community of athletes. The performances are grand, the heartbreaks immense, the emotions high.
Yes, the U.S. women’s hockey team won gold but the heartbreak written on the faces of the stricken Canadian team was touching. They are our neighbor to the north. The hockey rivalry is legendary. Our pro-hockey leagues play in both countries. They are our friends! How could anyone not empathize with the losing team in a close match? How can we not empathize with all those who have done their best but fallen just ever so slightly short? These games are awash in both joy and empathy.
Women’s Gold in figure skating was won by Alysa Liu, a young, mixed-race San Francisco skater. According to AI, “While she identifies as ethnically Chinese through her father, Arthur Liu—a Chinese immigrant and attorney—she was conceived via an anonymous white egg donor and a surrogate mother. Her father specifically chose this to give his children a multicultural heritage.”
A Chinese speed skater won the 1500 meter. Russians competed as non-aligned. These athletes did not compete as our enemies. The stands and the competing teams were filled with people of every nationality, heritage, color, gender, gender orientation. No one had cause to fear armed, masked men in blue jeans, hiking boots and balaclavas rampaging through the stands grabbing non-white spectators.
Instead, The Olympics showcased a world united by sport, by competition at the highest levels of achievement. A world where comraderie, hugs, support for teammates and consolation for competitors is the order of the day. A world where glory, compassion, empathy co-existed. In the upcoming Paralympics, Iranians and Russians are scheduled to compete alongside Israelis and Ukrainians. How ironic. What a conundrum.
We and our returning athletes of Team USA are faced with a conundrum in this winter of
discontent. While we hear the chants of “USA! USA! USA!”, here at home the darkness of this winter is inescapable. A regime bent on fascist authoritarian dominance ignores court orders, flouts the rule of law, kills American citizens, lies, spins and retaliates. Here in New Hampshire, we barely escaped a warehouse concentration camp to incarcerate … who exactly? The legion of horribles is long and never far from mind. So, how to reconcile the chants at the Olympics. What country did our athletes represent? The land of hopes and dreams or the land of a self-proclaimed dictator and his henchmen blatantly declaring White Christian nationalism as their guiding star?
There is a disconnect between the glory Team USA won at the Olympics and the country they returned to when the games concluded. The hockey stars were invited to the White House, now an ill-begotten zone of construction destruction. The men said “yes” and were fed McDonald’s, the women said “no” and were feted with world class cuisine by Stanley Tucci. The president, of course, denigrated the Women who refused his embrace. His view of women is well documented.
So, while our teams soared in Italy, we cheered, but feeling the disconnect, we resisted. We celebrated the Olympic triumphs on behalf of the American people, not the American government. We resisted in the names of Good and Pretti and all those denied the benefits of the rule of law. We resist because we feel the disconnect so keenly it makes us weep. We know what we have lost.
Perhaps the true metaphor for these games isn’t the medals won by Team USA, but rather the shattered tibia of the Queen of the skiing comeback. That is so because our American dream has been shattered. Our naïve assumption that the institutions of power could protect us against the wild excesses of authoritarianism have been dashed as we have skied far off course and crashed into the evil wall of powerful oligarchs, bent on remaking the world, crushing the dream of the common good beneath the boot of greed and terror.
The disconnect is real and is reinforced daily. The stock market rises, we go about our daily routines. We shop for groceries, we go to work, to school, to meetings. But, all our conversation is punctuated by a discussion of the latest political indignity and an undercurrent of fear. What to do? How best to resist? Who to support? How to claw our way back to a nation where Olympic chants are connected to our best selves and a country we are proud of? What must the world be thinking about us? If we travel abroad, do we spend all our time apologizing? Explaining? Lamenting?
Even now, as American troops are dying for the misbegotten vanity of the world’s most corrupt leaders, we hold out hope for America. We didn’t vote for war. We don’t believe anything we are told to justify the war. Truth has been the greatest casualty of our fascist regime, as with all fascist regimes.
A few days ago, I slipped and fell on the ice in my driveway — no triple toe loop, no point deduction. Just a routine slip and fall. I lay there, looking up at the stars, assessing the damage. No one was there to watch except the dog who dropped his toy and licked my face. I wasn’t hurt … well, maybe my pride a bit. I didn’t see the patch of black ice, refrozen after an almost tropical 38 degree sunny day.
Yesterday was a harbinger of spring. The sun was strong. The sky was blue. The sea sparkled. Spring will come and bury winter as it does every year. We will celebrate the return of the warmth and pray to leave this winter of our disconnect, of our discontent, behind. We will pray and we will act. We will act because it will take a herculean, Olympian effort to turn things around. We don’t have coaches and training. We have each other. We have the certainty that this republic is worth whatever it takes to reclaim its soul, to keep our freedom and our liberty.
Keep the faith.
Paul Hodes represented New Hampshire’s 2nd Congressional District from 2007 to 2011.