Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Bread and Circuses
… Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses (Juvenal, Satire 10.77–81)
Over the last two weeks, my dull summer was punctuated by an unexpected event; unexpected not because it was not known to happen, but because of its surprising effect on me. Of course I am speaking of the Olympics. Being a resident of that city I have been bombarded with advertisements for the past 12 months at least; London Transport has urged me to avoid the underground during those two weeks, while British Airways has encouraged me to avoid using the airport and instead “cheer on Team GB”. But since I had no other plans during that time, I felt condemned to be in town when the event was going to happen, but I was frankly dreading it.
By “accident” I was over at some friends’ house for supper on Friday 27th July and we decided to watch the opening ceremony instead of a film. The display of British humour, national pride and great solemnity captured me almost instantaneously, and I stayed until 0:30 to watch the event in its entirety, and that was it: I had caught the bug, like millions of Londoners. We were so proud of hosting this momentous event that any inconvenience, delay or disturbance would be borne with the typical British resolve. For the following two weeks I was glued to the BBC website (which was truly remarkable- they also deserve a gold medal) and cheering for team GB, yes even getting teary-eyed when some athletes like Jessica Ennis won her medal in such style.
And I sang along with John Lennon when he appeared on screen at the closing ceremony. Now that it is all over, and I am sitting in Tanzania, I wonder whether I was simply duped by an enormous propaganda machine which offered me circus games to deflect my attention from some pretty horrendous political scandals, such as Murdoch’s phone tapping, Barclay’s tampering with the interest rate and Nick Clegg’s botched parliamentary reform. Is all the feel-good factor about Bradley Wiggins and Victoria Pendleton simply opium for the people? Or can London genuinely be proud of what it has just pulled off? I honestly don’t know.
Political scientists know that parties’ popularity is often affected by the results achieved by the national football team, and this is cited as an example of how fickle the fate of our leaders really is. And indeed, Juvenal is right to warn of the danger of public entertainment taking the place civic engagement: we cheer for Team GB, but do not support those men who give their lives for our country in Iraq or Afghanistan; we are moved by Mo Farah defying the odds of his Somali background by winning two gold medals, but we do not seek to actually do something about the tragedy of Somalia etc. etc. On the other hand sports seem to be one of the few areas of society where nationalism and national pride are still acceptable, rather than dirty words; yet without a sense of national identity our countries will fail to survive. In that sense the 24 billion Pounds would have been truly wasted if they only provided a well-organized two-week party; but if they helped cement a sense of national identity and galvanized some people into serving this nation, then they were well spent. Let’s prove Juvenal wrong and show that high civil office is compatible with circus games!
