Londoners, we're often told, are a predictable bunch. They roll their eyes and complain about the bother of hosting an event that has the rest of the world in raptures. But - so the theory goes - when the event actually comes around they throw themselves into it with all the enthusiasm they can muster.
I must admit to being increasingly uncertain that London's Olymposceptics — as Mayor Boris Johnson once disparagingly referred to them — will come around in time for this summer's Games. Of course, you do come across those full-blown Games enthusiasts. I recently overheard a conversation between two friends on the Underground. One cursed the very substantial travel disruptions that even the preparations were causing (there's a whole ‘Get Ahead of the Games' Web site devoted to restrictions that will be in place on all forms of transport, from trains to bicycles, with major arterial roads open only to official Olympic traffic). The other extolled the massive regeneration boost the Games were giving to East London.
Indeed, if you take a train towards Stratford, the once rundown East London neighbourhood that is at the heart of the Games, the change to the landscape is palpable. Alongside the pristine Olympic Park with its state-of-the-art sporting venues, and ArcelorMittal Orbit — the swirling tower of metal sponsored by the world's largest steelmaker, there's been a whole host of improvements to infrastructure. Transport connections are infinitely better; gleaming towers of posh flats and office buildings intent on enticing well-heeled Londoners are springing up everywhere; and there's Westfield, a sprawling shopping and entertainment centre complete with trendy boutiques and restaurants that would have been unimaginable in this part of London even a couple of years ago.
In the long term, this revamp of parts of East London, home to some of Britain's most deprived communities, would have been inevitable given the city's growth trajectory, but perhaps not at the speed motored by the Olympics.
Growing alienation
Perhaps if things were left at just that, if claims about the impact of the Games were kept modest, it would all be easier to digest. Instead, Londoners are endlessly bombarded with hype about the Games' transformative impact and unqualified wonderfulness. Even non-Londoners might regard this as overblown. Last year's riots, graphic images of which were relayed across the world, highlighted the deprivation and social exclusion that co-exist not so harmoniously in a city also home to some of the most ostentatious wealth in the world — a chronic imbalance that will take far more than fresh infrastructure and sporting venues to even begin to tackle.
In East London, indeed, there are fears that the changes brought about by the Games will be more about gentrification than regeneration, leading to the marginalisation of communities no longer able to afford the ever-escalating cost of living and rising house prices.
The Carpenter housing estate round the corner from the Park holds out a striking example of that tension. Among other ideas to “upgrade” the area, the local government of Newham plans to demolish parts of the social housing project to provide housing for University College London — a move that some residents argue is tantamount to social cleansing.
An assessment of the pros and cons — the huge infrastructure spend in return for zillions of international eyeballs and visitors — is always part of the debate about hosting the Olympics. This process was always going to be particularly fraught in austerity-ridden Britain, with costs to the public purse potentially rising to a whopping £19 billion (Rs 1.622 lakh crore), according to a recent parliamentary report. Even allowing for that, however, a number of the decisions that have been taken jar with the idea of the Games as an inclusive, democratic event.
Take the ArcelorMittal Orbit. Visits up it will cost a hefty £15 (Rs 1,300) per adult — a figure even creator Anish Kapoor admits is a stretch. Given that access to it will require either the purchase of an entry ticket to the Park or the even more coveted, hard-to-get event tickets (I, for one, got only a tenth of the tickets I applied for through the ballot and consider myself among the lucky ones), and it's easy to see why some local communities aren't exactly enthused. And that's not even including the residents of one posh block of flats who will have soldiers and police stationed in their building, and — if plans the army is currently considering go through — surface-to-air missiles positioned on their roof.
Here come the brand police
Then there's the matter of branding. One assumes there's always a strong commercial element, but quite how slick and rigorous the Olympic marketing machine is only becomes apparent when you encounter it on a day-to-day basis — as Londoners inevitably do at the moment. The distinction between the haves and have-nots — the brands belonging to sponsors that can brandish the coveted logo across television screens, billboards and shop window, and those that can't — is just so apparent. The control that sponsors will wield over venues is also becoming clearer by the day. We all expected spectators to be bombarded with all things Coca-Cola and McDonald's, but taking things a step further is Visa, whose exclusivity agreement will mean many on-site cash machines will have to be closed down and replaced by its own.
And while protection of branding is understandable, the zeal with which it is being policed is nothing short of bizarre. Take the story of Dennis Spurr, the owner of Fantastic Sausage Factory, a small butchers' shop in a Dorset seaside town. Back in 2007, Spurr decided to celebrate the Olympics with a sign showing five rings of sausages displayed outside his shop. A stern warning from the Olympic branding police ensued, as did another reprimand when he replaced the rings with five square-shaped sausages. (As he tells it, there followed a rather surreal debate about whether or not squares amounted to rings.) While the second sign has been taken down, too, Spurr has since received a stern warning about words and images he must steer clear of. Undeterred, he now has a banner with five frying pans up outside his shop! He sees the funny side of it all, but still can't quite believe the huge fuss. “I never did take any more money out of doing it. I just wanted to celebrate the Games,” he says.
Fears about breaking the convoluted branding rules, coupled with disruption to London's infrastructure over the course of the Olympics, means that few small businesses seem hopeful that the Olympics will benefit them. A study by the Federation of Small Businesses last year found that just 7 per cent expect a positive impact from the Games, while a quarter expect it would adversely affect them.
Groan and bear it
Other aspects are being rigorously policed too: some Londoners who are planning to escape the city for the duration of the Games have had their hopes of renting out their properties at a tidy profit dashed, with some councils pledging a crackdown on authorised short-lets.
And faith in the city's overworked, aged infrastructure has been shattered several times in the past couple of months. A major breakdown on the Tube left thousands trapped in suffocatingly hot conditions for several hours, while at Heathrow arriving passengers were subjected to the torment of multi-hour journeys through immigration.
Suddenly London's premier airport - soon to be the point of arrival for thousands of Olympic visitors - found itself the butt of international ridicule, with even Joan Collins joining the chorus of complaints.
While Boris Johnson - London's flamboyant, floppy-haired Mayor - may pooh-pooh the steady beat of Olymposcepticism that is pulsing through the Capital and beyond, its origins are well-rooted and not easily dismissed. For many residents, the forthcoming Games are seen not so much as an honour and a privilege, but rather as an event whose hallmarks will be disruption of everyday life, ultra-commercialisation and the lurking presence of security police. Not to mention the bills to follow.