Bread, Circuses, and Medals: The Olympics as Late Capitalism’s Swan Song

A spectacle no one needs.

Photo by Frans van Heerden

In the grand theater of late-stage capitalism, few performances are as grandiose, as wasteful, or as nakedly imperialist as the modern Olympic Games. This bloated spectacle, along with its equally corrupt cousin, the FIFA World Cup, represents the culmination of centuries of Western hegemony, a glittering distraction from the grinding machinery of global exploitation.

I know, I’m not particularly fun at parties. (Especially after a few beers.)

Distracting the masses

“Panem et circenses,” the Roman poet Juvenal wrote, deriding the cynical political strategy of appeasing the masses with food and entertainment. Two thousand years later, and we’re still falling for the same old tricks. Only now, instead of gladiatorial combat, we have synchronized swimming. Progress, I suppose.

The Olympics and the World Cup serve as the ultimate “circus” in our modern bread-and-circuses routine. They’re designed to captivate, to distract, to make us forget — if only for a fortnight — about the myriad crises engulfing our world. Climate change? Forget about it, here’s some beach volleyball (with strikingly naked women because for some reason they’re not allowed to wear shorts). Rising inequality? Look, a new world record in the 100-meter dash!

It’s a pageant of cringe patriotism and corporate sponsorship, where nation-states flex their soft power and multinational corporations jockey for brand exposure. All while the working classes foot the bill and bear the brunt of the disruption.

Elitist playgrounds

Let’s not kid ourselves: the Olympics have always been a tool of imperialism. Born in the crucible of 19th-century European colonialism and industrialization, they’ve evolved into a showcase for the “superiority” of Western liberal capitalism. The medal table isn’t just a tally of athletic achievement; it’s a proxy for economic and political power.

The FIFA World Cup, not to be outdone, has perfected the art of sportswashing. Qatar 2022 was the apotheosis of this trend — a petrostate with an abysmal human rights record hosting the world’s most-watched sporting event. Thousands of migrant workers died building gleaming stadiums in the desert, all so we could enjoy a month-long orgy of football and pretend everything was fine.

The capitalism Olympics

But let’s zoom out even further. The Olympics and the World Cup aren’t anomalies; they’re the logical endpoint of a capitalist system that prioritizes spectacle over substance, growth over sustainability, and profit over people.

These mega-events are capitalism distilled to its purest form:

1. Privatize the profits, socialize the losses? Check. Host cities, and consequently people, take on enormous debt while the IOC and FIFA rake in billions.

2. Exploit labor? Check. From the athletes pushed to their physical limits to the workers building the infrastructure, it’s all about extracting maximum value from human bodies. Not to speak of the thousands of volunteers these events rely on, paid with good vibes or a free t-shirt.

3. Greenwashing? Check. Every Olympics now claims to be “the most sustainable ever,” even as their carbon footprints balloon.

4. Artificial scarcity? Check. Limited tickets, exclusive broadcast rights, and official merchandise create a frenzy of consumption.

5. Planned obsolescence? Check. Massive stadiums built for a two-week event, then left to rot.

It’s as if some dystopian economist designed the perfect capitalist enterprise, and we all just accepted it as normal.

The collapse of the spectacle

But here’s the kicker: the illusion is starting to fade. As we hurtle towards ecological and social collapse, the absurdity of these mega-events becomes impossible to ignore.

Younger generations, facing a future of climate chaos and economic uncertainty, are tuning out. They’re more concerned with survival than with who can throw a javelin the furthest. The Olympics and the World Cup, those grand old institutions of the 20th century, are starting to look like relics in a world that’s moving on.

Even the traditional bastions of Olympic fervor are wavering. Boston’s citizens voted against hosting the 2024 Games. Oslo withdrew its bid for the 2022 Winter Olympics after public opposition. It turns out people are less enthused about hosting these extravaganzas when they’re the ones picking up the tab.

Paris, right now, is a ghost town; an authoritarian’s wet dream of police checkpoints and soldiers roaming the streets. A vain monument for politicians and businesses.

Beyond the games

So where do we go from here? The collapse of these mega-events isn’t just about sport; it’s a microcosm of the broader systemic failures we’re facing.

The end of the Olympics and the World Cup as we know them could herald a wider rejection of the capitalist spectacle. It could signal a shift towards more sustainable, equitable forms of entertainment and community building. Imagine if we redirected the resources poured into these events toward addressing climate change, poverty, or healthcare.

But let’s not be naive. The forces that profit from these spectacles won’t go down without a fight. They’ll rebrand, they’ll greenwash, they’ll find new ways to keep us distracted and divided. The challenge for us is to see through the illusion, to recognize these events for what they are: the dying gasps of a system that’s running out of road.

The collapse of the Olympic dream isn’t a tragedy; it’s an opportunity. An opportunity to reimagine not just how we approach global sporting events, but how we structure our societies, our economies, and our relationship with the planet.

In the end, the true Olympic spirit — if such a thing ever existed — was never about faster, higher, stronger. It was about coming together, about celebrating our shared humanity. As we face the existential challenges of the 21st century, perhaps that’s an idea worth salvaging from the wreckage of the games.

The spectacle is ending. The drama continues.

Cheers,

Antonio Melonio

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I’m author and writer Antonio Melonio, the creator of Beneath the Pavement. If you enjoyed this piece, please consider becoming a paid subscriber here on Substack or over on Patreon. It’s the best way to support Beneath the Pavement and help independent writing.

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