Olympic controversies underscore importance of free speech culture

This year’s Olympic games in Paris kicked off with controversy. 

On the very first day, the opening ceremonies featured a scene composed of drag queens sitting at a long table overlooking the Seine River. In the middle of that table, laying on a platter of flowers and fruits, was a man painted blue and almost entirely naked. 

Many interpreted the scene as an allusion to “The Last Supper,” Leonardo da Vinci’s famous painting depicting Jesus and his disciples gathering for a final meal before his trial and crucifixion. The ceremony’s artistic director, however, insisted the scene was actually a reference to Dionysus, the Greek god of fertility, wine, and revelry. While the tableau vivant did appear similar to da Vinci’s painting, it also resembled pagan images — most strikingly a 17th-century painting from Dutch artist Jan van Bijlert called “The Feast of the Gods.” 

Amid accusations of blasphemy, fears about drag culture offending Christians, and anxieties over whether the association with “The Last Supper” was a (creative) misreading, the rejection from official religious institutions was decisive. In a statement regarding the tableau, the Vatican said, “The freedom of expression, which is clearly not called into question here, is limited by respect for others.” 

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Fortunately, in the United States, there’s no rule that says free speech ends where someone else’s pearl-clutching begins, leaving us free to satirize — or preach — religion as we see fit. However, the controversies over expression that erupted at this year’s Olympic games are a reminder of the universal struggle for free speech. To FIRE’s eyes, the speech controversies at Paris 2024 looked a lot like what we’re used to seeing on the docket from our casework on this side of the Atlantic, where symbols some may find offensive are wrongfully removed at the behest of a powerful official — often based on total misunderstandings of what the symbols mean.

Prior to this year’s Olympic surfing finals, Australian athlete Jack Robinson received notice of a complaint from South Korea, which formally raised an issue over the artwork displayed on his surfboard. In homage to Andy Irons, a beloved surfer who died of cardiac arrest at only 32 years old in 2010, the board featured the “Rising Sun” emblem (which had been associated with Irons) originally used by the Japanese Empire. To some Koreans, the symbol is an offensive reminder of Japanese occupation of the peninsula from 1910 to 1945.

Song Min, team manager for South Korea, told Reuters, “This isn’t about South Korea protesting, but this is what invokes some people’s scars, so it should be banned for use despite freedom of expression.” Yet even Song admitted the rising sun had become symbolic of the late Irons and was used by surfers who were not referencing its full history, but rather paying homage to their peer who died tragically young.

After South Korea’s protest, Robinson removed the symbol from his surfboard. In the finals, spectators could see that the belly of Robinson’s board was painted over to obscure its rising sun, though the ray pattern remained partly visible.

That athletes competing for the U.S. may freely and publicly criticize their country at the games shows the world one thing the U.S. gets right. 

The uproar surrounding Robinson’s board recalls domestic flag controversies familiar in the United States. Often, historical symbols like the Gadsden flag are censored because of their possible meanings, regardless of the intent of the person displaying them. In August 2023, seventh-grader Jaiden Rodriguez was pulled out of class in Colorado for displaying a Gadsden flag patch on his backpack. In a disciplinary meeting over the incident, an administrator claimed the Gadsden flag was a symbol of slavery, despite its origins as a symbol of the American Revolution. 

South Korea’s formal complaint over the art on Robinson’s surfboard is also a reminder that foreign nations sometimes seek to censor across national boundaries and beyond their own domestic jurisdiction. Particularly when content is published or originates online, we’ve seen foreign governments attempt to control what the whole world can see. Earlier this summer, Australia’s eSafety commissioner argued that the country’s speech laws should effectively apply everywhere on Earth, taking legal action against X to block a post not only in Australia, but globally. After FIRE and the Electronic Frontier Foundation intervened, Australia’s eSafety commissioner dropped the case. 

Speech controversies and censorship incidents at the Olympics also reflect what FIRE has long known to be true on college campuses, where diverse and international constituencies also come together and have to coexist: Pluralism is key. Resisting the collective censor’s cudgel ensures that we can all express our opinions as individuals. Establishing spaces where a diverse range of viewpoints can be expressed is essential to enabling the free exchange of ideas in a global community.

There was perhaps no greater demonstration of freedom of expression at the Olympics than when Kevin Durant, representing the U.S. as an athlete abroad, told a reporter: “A lot of bullshit happens in our country. But a lot of great things happen, too.” His comment, perhaps unintentionally, alluded to French President Emmanuel Macron’s theme, “en même temps,” a spirit of duality that marked the Opening Ceremony — recognizing that we can both celebrate and criticize simultaneously. That athletes competing for the U.S. may freely and publicly criticize their country at the games shows the world one thing the U.S. gets right. 

Gold medal for the First Amendment!