O Canada

I may well be wrong, and am already reproaching myself
for not doing enough historical research on this point, but
could it be that the Vancouver Winter Olympic Games are
the first Olympics, winter or summer, at the opening
ceremony of which a global TV audience of millions has
been entertained not only by a Leonard Cohen song but a
Leonard Cohen song containing the words 'She tied you to
her kitchen chair'? It might bear checking out. Quite how it
fits in with Baron de Coubertin's original Olympic ideal
('The important thing in life is not the triumph but the
struggle, the essential thing is not to have conquered but
to have fought well') I'm not sure, but what is clear is that
Olympic opening ceremonies have swollen over the years
into grotesque, bloated, hormone-fed swaggerings of
national chauvinism on the part of the host nations, each
of whom seem determined to outdo their predecessors in
terms of pomp, panoply and prideful preening. In the case
of Vancouver the Canadians have gone to extraordinary
lengths to try to convince the world that Canada has a soul,
a spirit, a unique destiny, even a culture. After half an hour
of exposure to bombastic speechifying and embarrassing
poetics, complete with Indian chiefs, Mounties, polar
bears and the inevitable spectacular light show the thought
crossed my mind: Methinks they do protest too much.
Frankly, a brass band and a few words of welcome would
have done the job just as well. Having said which, K D Lang
did do a fantastic 'Hallelujah.' In which the kitchen chair
made the cut but not, mysteriously, the subsequent verse
about 'what's really going on below.' Bondage may now be
an Olympic sport but even Canadians, it seems, draw the
line somewhere.