advocacy
Just forty years after the first modern Olympics, the 1936 Berlin Olympics exposed how easily the Olympic stage could be reshaped by political theater. Awarded to Germany before the rise of Adolf Hitler, the Games were meant to signal international friendship and a modernizing nation. But by the time the world arrived in Berlin, the Olympics had become a carefully crafted performance designed to legitimize the Nazi regime.
When Hitler came to power in 1933, Germany was already set to host the Games. At first, he didn’t care for the Olympics. He dismissed them as “Jewish” and “foreign”. But his inner circle, especially propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels, immediately saw the potential: an international event, global press coverage, massive crowds; basically, the perfect branding opportunity for a rising dictatorship. Germany began a massive rebranding campaign in order to convince the world that they were peaceful, strong, and legitimate. Anti-Jewish signs were temporarily removed, newspapers were tightly controlled, and visitors were directed toward a “model” version of German life.
Beneath the spectacle, the reality of Nazi policy remained. German Jews had already been pushed out of most sports federations. Roma and Sinti athletes were excluded. Dissenting journalists were monitored or removed, and local communities faced heavy surveillance. The temporary “softening” of Nazi behavior was strategic, not ideological. Once the crowds left, repression resumed at full force.
Against this backdrop, the athletes’ performances took on new meaning. None became more symbolic than Jesse Owens, the Black American track and field star who won four gold medals. In a Games built to promote Aryan superiority, Owens’ victories became a quiet but powerful rejection of the narrative the regime tried to project. His grace, speed, and composure undermined the racial ideology that underpinned the entire event.
Even within Germany’s team, contradictions emerged. Luz Long, a German long jumper, befriended Owens publicly during competition, offering him advice and walking arm-in-arm with him after the final. Their friendship stood in stark contrast to the racial hierarchy the Olympics were meant to showcase. Meanwhile, Helene Mayer, a German Jewish fencer, was pressured to compete for Germany as a token gesture of inclusion. She won silver but was photographed giving the Nazi salute on the podium: a haunting image that reveals how athletes were pulled into national narratives they had little control over.
Internation reaction before the Games showed how politically charged Berlin had already become. Several countries debated boycotting, and American activists, especially Black newspapers and Jewish organizations, argued that participating would legitimize Hitler’s regime. In the end, most nations attended, and the Nazi government used the turnout as proof of global acceptance. The success of the spectacle helped strengthen Germany’s international standing just three years before the outbreak of World War II.
The 1936 Olympics exposed the tension at the heart of the Olympic movement. The Games claimed to represent unity and peace, yet they were easily turned into a stage for ideology, image-making, and propaganda. For Germany, they became a temporary mask that hid the violence and discrimination beneath the surface. For athletes like Jesse Owens, their achievements became acts of unplanned resistance: proof that individual performance can disrupt even the most carefully constructed political narrative.
The Berlin Games matter because they reshaped what the Olympics could be. They marked the beginning of the modern era of Olympic propaganda, where nations use the Games to project power and redefine themselves on the world stage. And they showed how athletes, whether intentionally or not, challenge those narratives simply by stepping onto the track, the field, or the podium. In many ways, the 1936 Olympics set the tone for the political tensions and athlete activism that would emerge in later decades. They stand as one of the clearest reminders that the Olympic arena is never separate from world politics: it is shaped by it.