The Olympics ‘24 opening ceremony: liberté but not inclusion

Few events have been as talked about over the past month as the Olympics opening ceremony in Paris which took place last Friday (except for the UK general election, of course). 

Some referred to it as a ‘dreamlike spectacle’, while others found elements of the event ‘insulting and sleazy’, prompting the organisers to issue an apology to the Christian community following an outrage caused by what appeared to be a parody of Da Vinci’s ‘The Last Supper’. According to the committee in charge of the event, the intention of the ceremony was to celebrate community and tolerance through a show that would demonstrate their values and principles, as well as the French commitment to freedom of expression. 

The ceremony was clearly designed with inclusion as its overarching theme. The catwalk part of the show was particularly illustrative of that – we saw a variety of body shapes and ethnic backgrounds, people representing the LGBTQ+ community, people with disabilities, people from different age groups – all coming together to celebrate this historic milestone. 

But despite the grandeur of the event, its logistical complexity and skill of the performers who kept calm and carried on in the face of less than favourable weather conditions, the ceremony left a lingering aftertaste which I couldn’t shake off (spoiler alert – I had not been traumatised by the sight of a near-naked man dressed as a Smurf in a food platter). And even Celine Dion’s spectacular performance didn’t save the day.  

I spent some time thinking about it and realised that I occasionally experience something similar when coming across the social media feeds of certain organisations. You know the type – they’re the first to praise diversity and inclusion (on X/Twitter) but have zero employees from underrepresented backgrounds. Talk about mental health awareness days on LinkedIn but refuse to let staff work remotely. Celebrate women in the workplace but have zero flexible working arrangements for working mums. The opening ceremony elicited a similar feeling of scepticism. Are you genuinely inclusive or is what we’re being shown a mere box ticking exercise? 

Let me provide a concrete example. Paris, like any other place on Earth, is home to many thousands of people with physical disabilities. It has a sizeable elderly population, many of whom have health conditions which can make going up and down the stairs difficult. It is home to mums and dads and their babies whom they have to carry up and down the stairs inside the metro in the absence of escalators, let alone lifts. Yet only one of the 16 metro lines in the whole of Paris is wheelchair accessible. How can the city, where essentials, such as step-free access on public transport, are not really a thing, be serious about inclusion? C’est hallucinant! 

To tell the truth, one of the reasons I’m not in Paris this week with my French husband and baby daughter is precisely because the thought of having to navigate the Parisian transport network with no lifts and a pushchair at a time when the city is at its busiest and the infrastructure is at breaking point was so anxiety-inducing, that we’ve chosen to give this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity a miss to avoid the stress.  

Maybe I’m being bitter because I didn’t get to go to the Olympics and, overcome with FOMO, the best thing I can do is sit on the couch and dole out criticism, but I have a suspicion that a few of us have grown tired of this never-ending talk of inclusion that’s not underpinned by real-life action. Paris is one of my favourite places on Earth – it has so much to offer in the sense of culture, fashion, food… but inclusion is not the first thing to spring to mind when I think about it.  

So, my advice to any organisation tempted to jump on the inclusion bandwagon: only say it if you can show it. Or find something else to talk about.