Protest in Olympics

From the earliest times, the Olympic Games have served as a showcase for athletic prowess across various sports. Each country sends its finest athletes, all hoping to return home with a coveted Olympic medal. In theory, the world sets aside its conflicts and politics for a few weeks, allowing everyone to revel in the spirit of the games. However, in 1968, the United States was preoccupied with pressing issues such as Civil Rights, the Cold War, and the Vietnam War. Despite remarkable achievements and shattered world records, the media and public attention shifted toward the Civil Rights movement rather than the competitions themselves. The 1960s were a turbulent era for the United States. The country was not only embroiled in a Cold War with Russia, fighting communism abroad, but also grappling with the upheaval of the Civil Rights movement, which was reshaping the domestic social landscape. Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr., the two most prominent civil rights leaders, held contrasting views on how to achieve equality, resulting in mixed outcomes. While Malcolm X advocated for militant confrontation, Martin Luther King Jr. championed non-violent protest. In earlier years, it was white individuals who sought violence against blacks, but the race riots in Chicago and Los Angeles erupted when black communities began to confront the pervasive racism with militancy. This spirit of militancy quickly permeated the world of sports, where many black athletes found their best opportunities for success. Following Malcolm X’s assassination in 1965, many in the black community recognized that the Civil Rights movement was at a pivotal juncture. Within the realm of sports, Harry Edwards emerged as a leading voice for black athletes. Edwards grew up in St. Louis, where his father introduced him to the concept of the “black athlete.” The elder Edwards aspired to emulate Joe Louis and dreamed of becoming a role model for the black community. However, after spending several years in and out of prison, those dreams began to fade. Despite this, Harry Edwards recognized that sports could serve as a powerful vehicle for achieving racial equality. Although he excelled in track and basketball, Edwards was driven to improve simply because “athletes could use the school’s shower facilities every day,” a luxury he lacked at home. He went on to attend San Jose State, where he showed promise as a potential Olympian in the discus. However, he left the team after a disagreement with his coach. Shortly after, he met Ken Noel, a nationally ranked middle-distance runner who had been dismissed from the San Jose City College track team for organizing meetings for black athletes. Together, they founded the Olympic Project for Human Rights (OPHR). Initially, the organization focused on protesting the widespread discrimination that athletes, particularly black athletes, faced from sporting officials, clubs like the New York Athletic Club, and referees. In 1969, Edwards appeared on “Black Journal,” a public television program dedicated to racial issues, alongside notable figures like Bill Russell, Jackie Robinson, and Arthur Ashe. When asked if his organization—or any organization—truly prioritized the interests of black athletes, Edwards responded, “It’s not a formal organization; I think probably the only formality is that…eventually it leads back to me in one way or another, and I tend to hold the thing down.” Following this candid admission, Edwards intensified his efforts to confront racial issues and foster a sense of unity among athletes. Almost immediately, the Organization for the Promotion of Human Rights (OPHR) announced plans for a potential boycott of the 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico City. Initially perceived as an empty threat, there were growing signs of significant support for the boycott among black athletes. Comedian Dick Gregory, a former track star, had been advocating for a boycott as early as 1960, while Mal Whitfield garnered some backing from black athletes for a boycott of the 1964 Tokyo Games. Heightening concerns about a possible boycott, Tommy Smith indicated to a reporter that black athletes were indeed considering one, and track coach Bud Winter suggested that a boycott might be unavoidable. On November 23, Edwards leaked to the press that a decision had been made for black athletes to boycott the upcoming games. The American public was dismayed as they read their newspapers the following day. Initially, Tommy Smith denounced the decision as tentative, but Edwards’ charisma in front of the media swayed many Black Americans with his powerful declaration: “Is it not time for Black people to stand up as men and women and refuse to be utilized as performing animals for a little extra dog food?” Within 24 hours, over sixty athletes pledged to boycott the 1968 Olympics, and Edwards worked tirelessly to forge a united front within the Black community. At first, it seemed that nearly every Black athlete supported the boycott, but enthusiasm soon began to wane. IOC president Avery Brundage criticized Edwards, claiming that “these misguided young men are being badly advised.” Even Jesse Owens, who had single-handedly shattered Hitler’s dream of Aryan superiority at the Berlin Olympics in 1936, voiced his disapproval of the movement. In an interview, he stated, “I deplore the use of the Olympic Games by certain people for political aggrandizement. There is no place in the athletic world for politics.” Other Black athletes viewed the boycott as potentially undermining racial equality. Norvell Lee, a boxing gold medalist from the 1952 Games, objected, saying, “I personally don’t see the need for this type of thing at all. Athletics is the only field in which the Negro has been treated well. The athletes will be doing more to hurt themselves and their image than anything I can imagine.” Six-time NCAA sprint champion Charlie Green invoked a sense of patriotism, asserting, “It comes down to a matter of whether you’re an American or not. I’m an American, and I’m going to run.” In one sense, boycotting the Olympics would demonstrate to the world the strength of Black people in one of the few arenas where they had significant influence. In contrast, many believed that a boycott would undermine one of the best opportunities for advancement. While strong opinions and arguments emerged on both sides, the majority of Black athletes ultimately resonated with Joe Louis’ words from his hospital bed: “Maybe they don’t have equal opportunity in America, but they’re gaining it every day, and that’s something you should recognize. Things are improving. If they were going backward, it would be different.” As the deadline approached, many athletes began to weigh the personal and professional costs of a boycott and withdrew their support. Most concluded that the Olympics were not the ideal platform for a political agenda that could jeopardize their credibility. During the “Parade of Nations,” the US Olympic team marched in as a unified front, undeterred by the racial divisions that had surfaced in the preceding months. One television critic remarked, “Harry Edwards, leader of the failed boycott, should have felt embarrassed.” The modern Olympics have captivated the world, drawing citizens from various countries to attend the games, read results in newspapers, or watch on television. In 1936, Hitler commissioned the production of Olympia, resulting in over 248 miles of film that documented every facet of athletes' lives and competitions. By 1968, nearly 400 million people experienced the Olympics in some form through ABC, which delivered the largest sports broadcast to date. Roone Arledge, president of ABC Sports, transformed the coverage of the games into an event as spectacular as the competitions themselves. He utilized more cameras than had been employed in all previous Olympics combined, incorporating helicopters and personnel suspended by cables for aerial shots, as well as slow-motion playback to highlight the most significant moments. While his work was celebrated as a television masterpiece, many viewers criticized the coverage for its bias. It focused almost exclusively on American athletes, virtually ignoring the Russian team, despite their status as an Olympic powerhouse. This bias ensured that any American athlete who performed reasonably well would find themselves in the spotlight, with the public scrutinizing every move they made. For instance, if an athlete wanted to protest the spread of communism in Asia, they could voice their opinion during an interview, sparking discussions throughout the games. The decision of black athletes to leverage the platform of the Olympics for their civil rights cause proved far more impactful than simply boycotting the event. Upon arriving in Mexico City, it remained uncertain whether any of the black athletes would make a political statement. While U.S. Track coach Payton Jordan assured that there would be “no trouble whatsoever,” John Carlos responded, “We have no intention of disrupting the games. But that does not mean we won’t take action to highlight the injustices faced by black Americans.” These conflicting public statements fueled speculation that something significant was about to unfold. On the first major day of the track events, the United States surged ahead in the medal count, showcasing several remarkable performances. The seemingly invincible Al Oerter dominated the discus throw, securing his fourth gold medal across four Olympic Games. This unparalleled achievement set the stage for Wyomia Tyus’s victory in the 100-meter dash, marking the first time an athlete defended their gold in that event. Yet, despite these remarkable accomplishments, the crowd and media buzzed with anticipation, speculating on the political statements John Carlos and Tommy Smith might make if they won medals in the 200-meter dash. The potential for a racial protest nearly overshadowed the fact that Smith, Carlos, and Australian Peter Norman shattered the Olympic record five times. In the final heat, Smith crossed the finish line in a blistering 19.83 seconds, with Norman taking second and Carlos finishing third. As the three athletes approached the podium for the medal ceremony, the audience braced for anything. Carlos and Smith arrived at the medal stands wearing black socks, no shoes, a single black glove, and Smith donned a black scarf. Even Norman, the white Australian, showed his solidarity by wearing an OPHR patch on his jacket in protest. As they faced the American flag and bowed their heads for the “Star-Spangled Banner,” both Carlos and Smith raised a gloved fist into the air, standing resolute. With over ninety percent of the spectators hailing from the United States, loud boos erupted, and many jeered at these “militant” athletes. As the three medal winners walked away from the ceremony, the jeers intensified, prompting the two U.S. athletes to raise their gloved fists once more. Outrage rippled through the crowd, with many declaring that the athletes showed no respect for the country they represented. In an interview with Howard Cosell, Smith elaborated on the significance of their actions:
“The right glove I wore on my right hand symbolized the power within black America. The left glove my teammate John Carlos wore on his left hand created an arc with my right hand, representing black unity.” The scarf draped around my neck symbolized blackness. John Carlos and I wore black socks—without shoes—to signify our poverty. The public anticipated the potential for larger protests, especially since the upcoming relays featured entirely Black teams. Smaller acts of defiance also emerged, such as Ralph Boston’s refusal to wear shoes or socks on the medal stand and his rejection of a medal from USOC president Avery Brundage. However, these gestures were not regarded by the media or the public as impactful as the defiance shown by Smith and Carlos, partly because they occurred later in the games. The US Olympic Committee faced the challenge of deciding how to respond to the athletes' actions. In a letter to the IOC, the USOC expressed regret for: "The discourtesy displayed by two men who departed from tradition during a victory ceremony. The untypical exhibition of these athletes also violates the basic standards of sportsmanship and good manners highly regarded in the United States." The committee does not believe that the immature behavior exhibited by two members of the U.S. team warrants any formal action at this time. However, if further investigation into subsequent events does not support this conclusion, the entire matter will be re-evaluated. A repetition of such an incident will be regarded as a willful disregard for Olympic principles. Despite this, the U.S. Olympic Committee faced a difficult decision. If they punished Smith and Carlos for their protests as individual actions, it could fuel greater support for them, potentially escalating into a larger scandal. Conversely, if they condoned the actions of the two athletes, they would effectively permit an "anti-American" protest in front of an international audience. While most spectators opposed the protest, the athletes themselves appeared to support it. In a poll of 20 racially diverse athletes, five opposed the protesters' actions, while thirteen expressed varying degrees of support. Many of those surveyed acknowledged that their own government and society had wronged the Black community, aligning themselves with Smith and Carlos's stance. In a notable incident, Olympian Tom Waddell faced scrutiny from both the media and the public after he stated, “I think they have been discredited by the flag more often than they have discredited it. Our image is so bad it can’t get any worse… Maybe this will help.” As an Army officer, his remarks sparked controversy by intertwining military and political issues, leading many to believe that he suggested the Army was endorsing the Civil Rights movement. His comments even initiated proceedings for a courts-martial; however, his status as a prominent athlete ultimately led to the charges being dropped. The International Olympic Committee (IOC) was dissatisfied with the U.S. Olympic Committee's (USOC) response to the athletes' actions and insisted that the punishment be escalated to at least a suspension. The IOC was particularly concerned that the Olympics could become a platform for dissent, and it criticized the USOC for failing to rein in its athletes. Faced with potential sanctions from the IOC, the USOC ultimately acquiesced to their demands. Describing the actions of Smith and Carlos as political statements that had no place in the Olympic Games, the USOC suspended both athletes and ordered them to leave the Olympic Village. Major newspapers and magazines, including the New York Times, Chicago Tribune, and Time, dedicated entire sections to analyzing their actions, debating the appropriateness of the punishments, and exploring the broader societal implications of their demonstrations. Television networks also devoted significant airtime to the protest movement, featuring historians and officials to discuss the events. ABC, the exclusive broadcaster of the games, even prioritized coverage of the Smith-Carlos incident over some of the less popular sports, sacrificing airtime for their remarkable achievements. As the story gained traction in mainstream America, the focus of the Olympic Games shifted from athletic competition to political discourse, with the extensive coverage of Smith and Carlos overshadowing some of the most extraordinary feats of the event. As Al Oerter claimed his fourth consecutive gold medal in the shot put, the crowd buzzed about how racial tensions might shape various sports. Meanwhile, Dick Fosbury was busy redefining the high jump with his innovative “Fosbury flop,” setting a new world record. Yet, the American news media remained fixated on the issue of racial integration in the United States. In a striking demonstration of athletic prowess, Bob Beamon soared to an astonishing leap of 29 ½ feet, shattering the long jump world record by more than two feet. Remarkably, his record stood for 23 years, and the judging officials lacked even the proper equipment to measure the jump accurately. Lastly, Lee Evans' victory in the 400-meter dash left the crowd in awe. His time of 43.8 seconds not only set a world record but also led to an American sweep of the medals in the event. Despite these extraordinary achievements deserving front-page headlines in any sports section, many were relegated to mere footnotes in the news. The New York Times noted that in the turbulent landscape of American society, even remarkable athletic achievements were eclipsed by the political statements made by the duo. Sports Illustrated echoed this sentiment, stating that “the Carlos-Smith affair took much of the focus away from the Games themselves and from some extraordinary performances.” When the athletes were mentioned, it was often in the context of whether they intended to protest and support the civil rights movement, overshadowing their individual accomplishments. Overall, the coverage of the Olympic Games allowed the politics of sport to dominate the narrative, rather than celebrating the athletes' feats. Many competitors delivered the performances of their lives at the 1968 Olympics, yet it was the political climate, not the sports, that captured the headlines. While spectators may not remember Evans’ remarkable run in the 400-meter dash, they will undoubtedly recall Tommy Smith and John Carlos raising their gloved fists in defiance of an unjust system. Opinions vary widely on what this protest ultimately achieved. In the realm of sports, many exceptional athletes remained virtually unknown, overshadowed by the Carlos-Smith protest. Yet, it was this very protest that illuminated the racial tensions in America, drawing the world's attention to a pressing issue and compelling an unwilling American public to confront it. Thirty-seven years after the 1968 Olympics, while America may have forgotten some remarkable athletes, the games and the protests that reshaped the racial landscape will forever be etched in memory.