Coubertin - a disillusioned dreamer

Designed to sanctify sport, the Games have not realised the dreams of its architect, or the philosophy he held dear. Baron Pierre de Coubertin sacrificed his life for sport but was disillusioned when disruptive forces gained control of the Olympic Movement. An assessment of the Baron's life and times, by S. THYAGARJAN.

SPORT AS a means to accomplishing a sense of fulfilment and mental tranquillity is the essence of Olympism. There is a measure of sanctity attached to it, and the process initiated to insulate sport from exploitation formed the theme on which the foundation for the Olympic Games was laid at the fag end of the 19th century.

It is debatable whether sport, as projected in today's context, retains the aura, that fascinating element, powerful enough to resist the temptation to denigrate, degenerate and destroy the silken fabric. Indisputably, negativism has crept into every aspect of it, raising migivings over the fecundity of Olympism in this millennium. If Olympism as a concept is allowed to be destroyed by subjecting sport to the perversity of politics and professionalism, not to speak of the scourge of drugs, then it is the greatest ingratitude to the man who single handedly established the Games as the panacea to shaping a society of youth to face the complexities of life without a trace of trauma.

When Baron Pierre de Coubertin conceived the dream of resurrecting Olympics no one was more uncertain of realising it than the idealist himself. The society, on the throes of the industrial revolution then, was in a state of flux. But Coubertin, resilient and resourceful, endeavoured for years to see the launch of the Games, and paved for their growth till life ebbed out of him.

The life and times of Baron Pierre de Coubertin was a saga of sacrifice in the face of adversities, challenges, and mirrors the supreme devotion. His approach was pragmatic and humane. He laid emphasis on appealing to human element and sentiment. His philosophy was simple; use sport as the medium to realise the inner strength of human personality. ``Enlightened competitive athletics can create unique physical and moral qualities in the young'' was the principal component of his concept.

Admittedly, Coubertin had everything tailor-made to pursue a goal with passion. Childhood days at the family Villa, Cheteau de Mirville, near Bolbec in Normandy, were balmy and provided the right atmosphere to encourage his basic interests in arts and science. The Baron's father, Charles Fredy de Coubertin, an artist of considerable talent, painted a lovely portrait of the villa and the family resting in the lush gardens. Titled ``the Youthful Years'' the painting was displayed at the Olympic Games in Montreal. It was part of the large collections from the Baron's great grand nephew, Geoffery de Navacelle, who played a prominent role to restoring the treasures of the villa, including the chateau back to the family. As a youth, the Baron played tennis, rowed his family boat, ``Tam-Tam'', did a little bit of fencing, equestrian and boxing.

A visit to neighbouring England in 1888 opened for the Baron, then 25, a new vista. The systematisation that sport had acquired in the universities at Oxford and Cambridge, and in the public schools at Eton, Harrow, Winchester and Rugby impressed him a great deal. He was part of the French Rowing Society delegation. He became inquisitive as to why the French youth could not be provided with the same system. Back in Paris, the Baron prepared a report, ``L'Education Anglaise en France,'' in 1889 to the Government emphasising the need for sport to the youth of the country. Interestingly, this was the Baron's first essay into the world of writing. He followed it with 27 books on Olympism and sport.

If the French youth had responded to the call of the Baron, probably the world would not have seen the best of Coubertin. He might have, at best, remained a French national figure. But the indifference that greeted his appeal steeled him to prepare the message for the audience across the globe. ``The Olympic idea'' surfaced at this point. It took shape in the famous amphitheatre in the University of Sorbonne in 1892. The response was electrifying, especially from the aristocracy in the area. ``A blizzard of letters'' followed even as the idea of reviving the Olympic Games crystallised. The Baron's single point of programme then was ``The Olympic Games must be re-established.'' Prof. John Lucas, a lecturer in the University of Pennsylvania on sport, captured the moment and atmosphere in a brilliant essay. He wrote ``It worked, and in June 1894 - then again amidst the magnificence of the Sorbonne surroundings, a large influential gathering got caught in the classical ambience, were mesmerised by the Coubertin eloquence and unanimously voted for an Olympic Games to be held on Easter Day in 1896 in Athens, Greece.'' It was a giant leap for mankind into the arena of sport, but what baffled the usually unflappable Baron was the gigantism of the task and keeping the wheels on the move. The phenomenal success of the first Olympiad at Athens only enhanced the problem areas. Coubertin was confounded by the diplomatic wrangles, personal prejudices, wounded pride ego clashes and intrigue, - components that can disintegrate any constructive endeavour. As the Baron feared the second Olympics in Paris got engulfed in the Dreyfus affair with all its racist trappings. As the next Millennium surfaced, the Baron had reason to feel disillusioned from what was emerging as clear distress signals to the cause of Olympism.

Coubertin opted for Chicago as the venue of the first Olympics in the 20th century. But the U.S. Government pressured the IOC to accept St.Louis. Coubertin was hurt, and noted that ``I had a sort of presentiment that the Olympiad would match the mediocrity of the town.'' He did not attend the Games. For an intellectual and idealist that Coubertin was, it did not take much time to perceive the futility of keeping politics, or political groups away from the ambit of Olympism. The political overtones of the 1908 Games at Shepherd's Bush, where the U.S. team refused to lower the Star and Stripes before the King of England confirmed the Baron's worst fears of the Games being hijacked by ugly display of nationalism. What distressed him enormously was the outbreak of the First World War and the death toll of the flower of youth. At the age of 53, the Baron applied to serve the French Army, but it was declined. Even his domestic peace was disturbed by the constant affliction to his two children, Jacques (son) and Renee (daughter). His wife Marie was dismayed by the failing health of the Baron, who worked day and night to keep the momentum of the Olympic Games alive. The family had no option but to quit France and settle down in Lausanne, where the new villa, ``Mon Ropes'' became the official residence of the International Olympic Committee.

At Lausanne, the Baron spent hours and hours at writing even as age had begun to wither him. With great effort, he revived the Games in 1920 at Antwerp, in the shadow of the war's untold misery and destruction. ``It is like delivering the funeral of the Olympic Games,'' wrote Sir Perry Robinson in The Times (London). Dispirited and dismayed by the growing shamateurism and politicisation, the Baron began to think of distancing himself. He quit in 1925 at the IOC meeting in Prague after the Paris Games. Family problems and financial strains impaired his health as also that of his daughter, Renee, who needed to be hospitalised frequently for depression. Despite remaining away from the Olympic Games, Baron closely followed them closely 1936. Before the Los Angeles Games in 1932, Coubertin published his monumental work, ``Memoires Olympiques.''

Death came on September 2, 1937, a year after his nomination for the Nobel prize for peace was rejected in preference to an Argentinian lawyer. The family's disturbing financial status came to light after the Baron's death. Pierre Chavan, the trustee of the estate and guardian to Marie and her daughter, Renee, had to take various measures, including the auctioning of valuable items in Cologne, Berlin and Lausanne, and shift the family to a smaller villa ``Au cret'' in Montreux. The Baroness, Marie, the daughter of a French diplomat, died on May 6, 1963 at the age of 102.In a mood of introspection at the age of 74, ``life having been darkened with great worries and sorrows'' the Baron felt what he had achieved was insignificant. ``Olympism is only a part of my life's work, approximately half in fact,'' he mused. Interestingly the Baron wrote as many as 60,000 printed pages on sport and Olympism in his life time.

It pains one to note that such a visionary and an outstanding individual who had given the globe the Olympics and enhanced the enchanting vista of sport rarely received the approbation and appreciation he deserved for the contribution in the last millennium. Whatever said of him was meagre, and irrelevant, since the contribution of the lesser mortals had been hailed as something extraordinary. The Baron was, in every sense of the term, a Messiah for sports, a supreme human being who braved the adversities to establish the Olympics as the showpiece of the universe and a carnival of youth.

``Every human being belongs to the great orchestra of mankind. Most of us, it must be admitted, play a very minor role. Not everyone is able to fit in; some never succeed in finding their place. Very few are favoured by fate to the extent of being allowed to compose pieces themselves. Rarer still are those privileged to hear them performed during their life time.'' The poignancy laced in this observation perhaps conveys the philosophy of life which the Baron endeavoured to redefine. That this peroration was penned in his last unpublished essay, ``The Unfinished Symphony'' is indeed appropriate. Does the Olympic Movement of today have a man of charisma to add melody to it?

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