The Paradoxical International Parade of Nations

Greece comes first, even if the nation of Greece bears little resemblance to the vision of ancient Olympia. Photo from Newscaststudio.com.

This is ultimately a story about flag dipping–or the lack thereof–and how the American media lied about it, until it turned into yet another “Land of the Free” myth based on false information. But in order to get there, we have to dig into another subject first, the underlying paradox of the Games. How did the Olympic movement, designed to further global peace and harmony, create such opportunities for factionalism and jingoism? That is, why does this international sports tournament which celebrates human achievement and the brotherhood of man revolve around nations?

In anticipation of the pageantry, pomp, and parade we are about to experience, I want to offer a little perspective on the history of the ceremonies themselves, in particular, on how the parade of nations got started and on why America loves to wave its own flag but never dip it.

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Flying My Dork Flag in “The Dork Forest”

*thunk* *thunk*

Can you hear the sound of me bouncing off the walls? That’s because I did an episode of “The Dork Forest,” hosted by the phenomenal podcaster and comic Jackie Kashian. We talk Olympics, we talk women in sports, we talk about what to watch in Paris. And I believe I said, “did you know…” at least twelve times.

I fly the dork flag, I flash the dork badge, I proudly use my exclusive dork encoder ring to unlock special features.

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M is for Marco Polo

Marco Polo in prison (litho) by Valda, John Harris (1874-1942); Private Collection

Marco Polo was a liar. One scholar claimed that rather than going to China, he never went further east than Iran.

Marco was a prisoner of war, caught in a skirmish fighting his hometown’s biggest enemy. Marco was not a writer, but a spinner of tales. Mr. Marco Millions was a traveler, a merchant, an ambassador, an embellisher, and a subject of controversy.

Marco Polo was an adventurer, who had too many adventures to tell here. We can only scratch the surface of who he was.

Marco Polo leaving Venice, painting at the Bodleian Library.

The Bare Bones

Marco Polo was born in 1254 in the Republic of Venice. If you read my “D is for Doge” passage last year, you’d recall that Venice was a major world power at the time, responsible for the sack of Constantinople just a few decades earlier and one of the groups calling the shots in Europe. They “owned” ports on the Black Sea and elsewhere and had grown very rich ferrying French and Teutonic knights back and forth to the Crusades. So had the Genoese, another Italian seaport.

Marco’s father wasn’t there for his son’s birth because he was off in Constantinople with his brother, doing trade deals. Niccolo and Maffeo Polo decided to high tail it out of there because Constantinople was taken back from the Venetian puppets; the Polos went east–way east–out to the court of Khubilai Khan. They returned to Venice and persuaded 15-year-old Marco to go back with them, so Marco and family traveled the Silk Road once more, although their first stop was in Acre. Had I mentioned the Crusades?

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