Before the modern, the ancient Olympics (part 1 of "the real story of the Olympics")

The genesis of the ancient Olympics is lost in the mists of time. Pindar, writing whole centuries after the beginning of the Olympics, mentions two myths and they cannot both be true. The best known one involves the demigod Herakles, son of the god Zeus (whom the Greek were also calling Dias and whom the Romans called Jupiter) and Alkmene, who among his labours had to clean the stables of king Augean. Augean reneged on the payment and so Herakles defeated him, slayed him and his sons (except one), confiscated the royal treasures, and dedicated them to fund an eternal Olympic festival in Zeus's honour at Olympia.

The other one involves Pelops. I cannot resist the temptation to tell the whole story. It is a perfect example of nice story-telling in Greek mythology. Oenomaus, the king of Pisa, had a daughter named Hippodamia, and according to an oracle, the king would be killed by her husband. Therefore, he decreed that any young man who wanted to marry his daughter was required to drive away with her in his chariot, and Oenomaus would follow in another chariot, and spear the suitor if he caught up with them. Now, the king's chariot horses were a present from the god Poseidon and therefore supernaturally fast. The king's daughter fell in love with a man called Pelops. Before the race, Pelops persuaded Oenomaus' charioteer, Myrtilus, to replace the bronze axle pins of the king's chariot with wax ones. Naturally, during the race, the wax melted and the king fell from his chariot and was killed. After his victory, Pelops organised chariot races as a thanksgiving to the gods and as funeral games in honour of King Oenomaus, in order to be purified of his death. It was from this funeral race held at Olympia that the beginnings of the Olympics were inspired. Pelops became a great king and he gave his name to the Peloponnesus.

However there is a third, more ancient, myth involving again an Herakles. This one was a  Cretan hero, known as the Idaian Herakles, and four of his brothers, Aeonius, Epimedes, Iasius and Idas. They went to Olympia where Cronus had hidden the newborn Zeus. They organised a race (perhaps to entertain the infant) and the victor was crowned with an olive wreath. The four-year Olympic cycle, who was in fact a five-year one (πενθετηρίς) with the first and last year included, is supposed to honour the five brothers. 

Be that as it may, the ancient Olympics were linked to the worship of Zeus. The gold-and-ivory Statue of Zeus (one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World) was located inside the Temple of Zeus in the sacred precinct of Olympia. A temple of Hera (Zeus' wife) did also exist, and in fact its construction predated that of Zeus' temple. Let's not forget that Herakles' name means "glory of Hera" and it was probably chosen so as to appease her, since Herakles was the fruit of an adulterous affair of Hera's husband.

Olympia around the first century of modern era

I am not going to give details on the ancient Olympics. They can be found on the web and if you are interested you can look them up. The aim of this article is to show how the ancient Olympics did not resemble the modern ones. The birth of the modern olympic movement took place in the middle of the Victorian era and, as was unavoidable, it was burdened by that epoch's ideologies. And the latter had nothing to do with the ancient Greek ideals. 

So, let us start at the beginning. First the ridiculous name: Olympic Games. There was nothing "gaming" in the ancient Olympics. They were called Olympic Contests (Αγώνες), and they are still referred to by this name in modern Greek. This is essential. The ancient Olympics, and in fact the whole ancient Greek society, were permeated by the spirit of competition. Only the victory counted. Why do you think there were no second and third prizes? It was not important just to participate as the Baron would like us think. And the word athlete comes from άθλος, a feat, an achievement, something that deserves a prize (έπαθλον).

Ι have already written about the amateurism misconception. Certainly the athletes in the Olympics competed for symbolic prizes like the olive wreath. However, back home, the winners were rewarded with substantial prizes, money, freedom from taxes, even lifetime pensions.

The ancient Olympics were not (until the Roman conquest of Greece) international. They were designed only for Greeks. 

There is absolutely no evidence of all the modern paraphernalia: olympic rings, torch relays, flags, hymns and anthems. 

The sacred fire in the sanctuary of Dias did not acquire a special significance during the Olympics, like the overhyped olympic flame. 

And although during the ancient Οlympics a truce between warring Greek cities made possible for athletes and spectators to attend the Olympics, this should not be misinterpreted as a philosophy of understanding and brotherhood, as the modern Olympic movement would like us think.

As Donald Kyle, author of the monograph "Sport and Spectacle in the Ancient World", points out: the modern Games have become more and more removed from the ancient.

The IOC has seen the light. Finally!

Everybody remembers the Olympic fiasco of 2024; you would have to be living in an alternate universe to have missed it. A boxer, previously barred from women's competitions due to eligibility concerns (translation in plain english: she is male) was nevertheless allowed by the IOC to participate in the female boxing tournament, terrorizing her adversaries and usurping the gold medal. I cannot imagine a more shameful moment for the IOC. People reacted, and the IOC understood that its well-oiled money-making machine might start having problems—especially as major international federations like World Athletics and World Aquatics had already begun introducing measures to protect women’s sport, and as the president of the US (where the next Olympics will be held) had signed an executive order titled “Keeping Men Out of Women’s Sports”. So the IOC caved in. The moment was opportune: the president who had overseen the Paris debacle was being replaced, and, what is more, by a woman. One of the first questions K. Coventry had to answer was how she intended to protect women’s sport. Now we have the answer.

On March 26, a new IOC policy was approved. Starting with the Los Angeles 2028 Olympic Games, eligibility for any female category in IOC events is limited to biological females, using a one-time SRY gene screen as the initial eligibility test. It is explicitly not retroactive and does not apply to recreational sport. It is a major shift because it creates a single IOC-level standard for female-category eligibility across Olympic sports, rather than leaving the issue entirely to each federation.

This is probably the most consequential decision taken by the new IOC president since her election last year. In a video message, she quipped:

We know this is a sensitive issue, but it would not be fair for biological males to compete in the female category. At the Olympic Games, even the smallest margins can be the difference between victory and defeat, so it’s absolutely clear that it would not be fair. In addition, in some sports it
would simply not be safe.

And, for the first time, the IOC recognises that there is a male performance advantage. Depending on the sport or event, there is a 10–12% male performance advantage in most running and swimming events, and an over 20% male performance advantage in most throwing and jumping events. The male performance advantage can be greater than 100% in events that involve explosive power, e.g. in collision, lifting, and punching sports.

In an article published in New Studies in Athletics, No. 29:4, 2014, pp. 37–48, co-authored with Y. Charon, we estimated the difference between male and female performances in Athletics. We found an advantage of around 10% in running and 15% in jumping. I addressed the question of throws in an article published in this blog:
I concluded there that, when it comes to throws, the male advantage is on the order of 30%.

Linda Blade, a former T&F champion and author of the book “Unsporting: How Trans Activism and Science Denial are Destroying Sport”, has compiled a list in which she not only gives estimates of the male advantage but also dismantles the usual arguments of trans apologists, one by one. I reproduce it below because it captures the reality of the situation more clearly—and more honestly—than any official statement.

How does eligibility work? The first-line criterion is SRY gene screening, which the IOC describes as a minimally invasive test using saliva, a cheek swab, or a blood sample. Athletes who test negative are deemed to satisfy the policy permanently, i.e. they are women (unless there is reason to doubt the result). Under the policy, athletes with an SRY-positive result are, in principle, excluded from the female category at IOC events, including transgender women and most XY differences (or disorders) of sex development. 

But there are exceptions. In an article I published last year, I discussed this point (if you are interested, I suggest you go back and read it to get the full picture). The IOC policy explicitly mentions Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome (CAIS). In this condition, there is no testosterone-related performance advantage, which is why these athletes remain eligible for the female category.

However, as Ross Tucker has pointed out, this is not a trivial matter. Not all androgen insensitivities are complete: some individuals present partial insensitivity, and the key question is whether this confers any residual advantage. Tucker’s position is clear: if the IOC wants this policy to hold, it must rely on a “very robust, very transparent, very reliable, repeatable procedure.” And, in response to those who claim that the IOC is policing women’s bodies, he makes the obvious point: the aim is not to police bodies, but to define—and enforce—the boundary that makes women’s sport possible in the first place.

The IOC presents this policy as a way to protect fairness, safety, and integrity in elite women’s competition. It insists that the female category exists to preserve meaningful competition, where biological differences would otherwise erase equal opportunity. I would say that, at long last, the IOC has stopped pretending.

The centenary of Kinue Hitomi's book

I had not planned to write this article. My intention was to publish a piece on the IOC’s decision to introduce a femininity test. However, during my daily visit to the World Athletics website, I came across an article by none other than P.-J. Vazel. If you follow this blog, you know I am a longtime admirer of his work. His technical articles have been a major source of inspiration for me. Since becoming the curator of the World Athletics Heritage Museum, however, he has been less visible than before. Yet it was not his name that first caught my attention, but the article’s title, which mentioned the great Kinue Hitomi—likely for the first time ever on the World Athletics homepage.

I will not retell Hitomi-san’s story here. I covered it in detail in a previous article from my series “The Long and Arduous Road of Women to the Olympics,” published four years ago. I encourage you to read it, and while you are there, to explore the accompanying piece on the first women’s Olympic 800 meters. There is also a follow-up article, written just last year, which brings new elements to the discussion of that race, including references to a possible IOC effort to limit women’s events—or at least to curtail the women’s program—based on negative interpretations of the 1928 experience.

Kinue Hitomi (1907–1931) was a pioneering Japanese athlete who, after setting a national long jump record almost by chance at a school meet in 1923, devoted herself to track and field. She went on to establish world records across multiple events, including the long jump, triple jump, 100 m, 200 m, 400 m, and standing long jump, while also working as Japan’s first female sports journalist. She was named the outstanding athlete of the 1926 Women’s World Games in Göteborg. At the 1928 Amsterdam Olympics—after her preferred events were not included in the program and she was eliminated in the 100 m semifinals—she entered the 800 m on impulse, despite never having raced the distance, and won silver in 2:17.6, becoming the first Japanese woman to earn an Olympic medal. She was the inaugural world record holder in a combined event for women, the triathlon: 100m, high jump, javelin. Alas, she fell ill after the 1930 Prague Games and died of pneumonia the following year at just 24. In my view, she stands as the greatest athlete of that era, a time when women were fighting relentlessly for their right to compete. (Sadly, a century later, that struggle is not entirely over).

Vazel’s article is not about Hitomi-san herself, but about a book she wrote at just 19. Its title is 最新女子陸上競技法 (“The Latest Methods of Women’s Track and Field Athletics”). A digitized version is available from the National Diet Library of Japan, and, being a century old, it is now in the public domain. On the second page, one finds a photograph of Her Imperial Highness Princess Nobuko—the consort of Prince Asaka and daughter of Emperor Meiji—playing golf. The third page features a portrait of the young Hitomi-san (remember that the book predates her emergence as an international star), holding in her left hand a medal won at a national championship.

I will not attempt to summarize Vazel’s article, but rather highlight a few salient points that illustrate how remarkable Hitomi-san’s book is. First, she describes the use of starting blocks, even though their invention is usually attributed to G. Bresnahan, who filed a patent in 1927—one year after her book was published. Ironically, the IAAF (the predecessor of World Athletics) banned starting blocks in 1935 and only reauthorized them in 1938, and then with restrictions. More broadly, she outlines a comprehensive program for women’s athletics, rather than the limited version reluctantly accepted by the IOC. It is worth recalling that Hitomi herself was a triple jump champion, a discipline that did not enter the Olympic program until 1996. Her proposals were grounded in a clear conviction: that women deserved proper instruction, formal rules, sound technique, and serious study. She also documents four-week Olympic training schedules and meal plans from the 1924 Paris Olympic Village, focusing on Japanese male athletes. As Vazel points out, this is “pure gold” for sports historians, as it reminds us that many of the questions we consider cutting-edge today—nutrition, recovery, session management, and adaptation to international competition—were already being examined systematically a century ago.

It is remarkable that such a modest volume—just 134 pages, not 234 as Vazel suggests—can stand as one of the earliest and most forward-looking contributions to the scientific and methodological foundations of modern athletics: it as a testament to Hitomi’s extraordinary vision of what women’s sport could become.