The sight of the London 2012 Olympic flame being extinguished last Sunday evoked a genuine sense of grief in me, as it no doubt did in people all over the world. My sadness was mostly due to the fact that two weeks of sensational sporting action, national unity, and respect between competitors (such an alien concept in a football-obsessed country like Britain) had come to an end. Then there was the patriotic pride which I simply couldn't suppress. Britain had staged the greatest show on earth without a major hiccup, and everyone - myself included - wished that they could somehow bottle up the profound optimism it had generated and take it with them like a sliver of Evenstar into the economic gloom.Yet I couldn't help thinking that, by blowing out the Olympic candles before the Paralympics had even begun, the organisers had unconsciously conceded what most people probably believe to be true but are too afraid to say out loud: that the Paralympics are separate and inferior to the main event. The very name Paralympics is meant to signify a parallel event: separate, but equal.
So the flame is out, but the media nevertheless implores us all to keep the 'Olympic spirit' burning for another month. Gary Lineker signed off the BBC's coverage of the closing ceremony with an obligatory "bring on the Paralympics", despite the fact that his corporation won't even be broadcasting it on TV. Perhaps the BBC isn't doing so because it was criticised for its limited coverage
of the 2010 Winter Paralympics, which it blamed on budget constraints and time zones instead of admitting that there is little appetite in Britain for watching
disabled people compete athletically. I include myself in that.
Channel 4, the Paralympics broadcaster this time around, is promoting a cheeky #ThanksForTheWarmUp trend on Twitter as part of its advertising campaign, but a warm up for what? For a competition that, according to a late 2011 survey, only 18% of the British population are interested in watching on TV? How patronising can you get? And what about the 'Meet the Superhumans' advert that depicts wheelchair rugby players smashing into each other in slow motion? They are not super humans. They, like me - like all disabled people - are just living their lives as normally as possible. But God forbid the whole country doesn't marvel at how special these special athletes are and be REALLY EXCITED at the prospect of watching them in action. If you are genuinely excited, that's your right and I praise you for it, but don't feel pressured into feigning excitement.
You might think that because I was born without legs I would take inspiration or even a sense of solace from watching the Paralympics, but the truth is I've never watched a minute of it in my life. And I'm not alone. The same survey also found that less than a third of disabled people intended to watch the London 2012 Paralympics, a figure which has no doubt risen on the back of Team GB's phenomenal success, but not by a great deal, I wager. Why is this number so low? I have no answer, being unable to even explain my own apathy. Perhaps it's because there are disabled people and then disabled people; that is, individuals who stand a chance at being athletic and individuals who unfortunately don't.
None of this scepticism diminishes in any way my respect for the Paralympians themselves, who are brilliant athletes and, arguably, the best role models society has to offer. My parents and I actually met Peter Hull when I was a baby, who went on to win 3 Gold medals (all with World Records) at the 1992 Barcelona Paralympics. My parents, keen for advice on how to raise a disabled child, travelled the length of the country to meet this inspirational man and were, unsurprisingly, very impressed by him. How anyone swims without arms or legs is beyond me. Maybe superhuman isn't too far wide of the mark when it comes to people such as he.
By the way, although I don't remember it, Peter Hull looked at me in my pram - looked at my arms - and said in a deadpan voice, "I could have done with a pair of those."
I can't write this blog post without briefly mentioning Oscar Pistorius. Again, he's a brilliant athlete who's living his dream, and I have nothing but admiration for him. BUT, that doesn't mean his participation in the Olympic Games was right. The issue for me isn't that his prosthetics might have given him an advantage over some able-bodied runners; it's that his very being there was yet another patronising attempt at making the competition all-inclusive at the expense of sporting quality; an attempt at blurring the natural line between Olympics and Paralympics. "We've got female boxers for the first time," the organisers seemed to say, "and look, we have a high-profile Paralympian competing, too. Aren't we liberal?" But they should use their common sense. Pistorius is the best Paralympian in the world - perhaps ever - and look where he finished in relation to the able-bodied runners.
Channel 4, the Paralympics broadcaster this time around, is promoting a cheeky #ThanksForTheWarmUp trend on Twitter as part of its advertising campaign, but a warm up for what? For a competition that, according to a late 2011 survey, only 18% of the British population are interested in watching on TV? How patronising can you get? And what about the 'Meet the Superhumans' advert that depicts wheelchair rugby players smashing into each other in slow motion? They are not super humans. They, like me - like all disabled people - are just living their lives as normally as possible. But God forbid the whole country doesn't marvel at how special these special athletes are and be REALLY EXCITED at the prospect of watching them in action. If you are genuinely excited, that's your right and I praise you for it, but don't feel pressured into feigning excitement.
You might think that because I was born without legs I would take inspiration or even a sense of solace from watching the Paralympics, but the truth is I've never watched a minute of it in my life. And I'm not alone. The same survey also found that less than a third of disabled people intended to watch the London 2012 Paralympics, a figure which has no doubt risen on the back of Team GB's phenomenal success, but not by a great deal, I wager. Why is this number so low? I have no answer, being unable to even explain my own apathy. Perhaps it's because there are disabled people and then disabled people; that is, individuals who stand a chance at being athletic and individuals who unfortunately don't.
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| Peter Hull, MBE |
By the way, although I don't remember it, Peter Hull looked at me in my pram - looked at my arms - and said in a deadpan voice, "I could have done with a pair of those."
I can't write this blog post without briefly mentioning Oscar Pistorius. Again, he's a brilliant athlete who's living his dream, and I have nothing but admiration for him. BUT, that doesn't mean his participation in the Olympic Games was right. The issue for me isn't that his prosthetics might have given him an advantage over some able-bodied runners; it's that his very being there was yet another patronising attempt at making the competition all-inclusive at the expense of sporting quality; an attempt at blurring the natural line between Olympics and Paralympics. "We've got female boxers for the first time," the organisers seemed to say, "and look, we have a high-profile Paralympian competing, too. Aren't we liberal?" But they should use their common sense. Pistorius is the best Paralympian in the world - perhaps ever - and look where he finished in relation to the able-bodied runners.
It seems to me that many people treat the Paralympics in the same way they treat disabled people in general. They want to treat them as 'normal', while, at the same time, knowing in their hearts that they're different. They're not sure how to tread the line between patronising the disabled with unrealistic promises of inclusion and offending them by excluding them. I sympathise; it's a very delicate balance. What I will say, though, is that there's a difference between discrimination and simple honesty.
The media would do well to stop being politically correct about disability and trying to convince everyone that there's no difference in quality between the Olympics and Paralympics. I'm disabled and I take no offence whatsoever in anyone saying there is a difference between watching, say, Usain Bolt and watching the noblest, fastest blind runners in the world being led blindfold around a track on a leash so they don't collide with one another. Yet the determination of those Paralympians to win is beyond measure - probably far greater than Bolt's - and that's as much a part of the 'Olympic spirit' as physical perfection.
Thus, we should celebrate the obvious differences between the Paralympics and Olympics, rather than be afraid to acknowledge them. In my experience, disabled people really aren't that delicate.
