This past weekend, another Olympic Games whimpered to a close with little fanfare worldwide, and even less in the States, let alone at Harvard. No one seems to care—but why should they? The viewers at home would much rather watch Hollywood-produced orgies of vainglorious athletic competition with tighter scripts, deeper characters, and bigger explosions than half-hearted coverage of the Olympics.

In all seriousness, it is quite sad how perverted the Games have become. Baron Pierre de Coubertin, the founder of the modern Olympics, originally envisioned that athletes would recognize that it was most important “not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.” How far we have progressed, in this age of medal tallies, doped-up athletes, and corrupt judges.

Coubertin’s dream, conceived more than a century ago, was twofold: that the Games would encourage the youth of the world to compete in sports, rather than fight in war, and that the Games would bring the nations of the world closer together, to achieve a greater mutual understanding. Unfortunately, for much of the 20th century, the first part didn’t work out so well—the Games were cancelled during both world wars—and neither did the second—Olympic boycotts have been a common diplomatic device. But the Olympics’ successes—Jesse Owens’ barrier-breaking gold medal performance during the 1936 Games in Nazi Germany is just one example—have shown that the Olympics truly can serve Coubertin’s vision.

It is a travesty that in today’s climate of simmering international tension, the Olympics is losing its relevance; not even the pretence of using the Games for its original purpose, to promote accord between the people and countries of the world, remains. Instead, we have an unabashed celebration of corporate sponsorship, Nielsen ratings, and hollow jingoism. With painted plastic cows marching, hula-hooped acrobats flying, human playing-cards dancing, and even a dragon-shaped harp fire-blowing during opening and closing ceremonies, it is no wonder some have called the Games a comedy of the absurd, more akin to a third-rate circus than a gathering of the nations of the world to achieve a higher purpose.

Today, instead of Coubertin’s exchange of ideas and culture, athletes backstab mercilessly in the hopes of creating sufficient controversy and getting enough media exposure to merit a lucrative endorsement deal. The concept of “team” is nearly dead, as American speed skaters have amply demonstrated this year. It’s nauseating, really.

Sure, athletes are happy to pay lip-service to Olympic ideals, but in reality many only emerge from their cloistered, pampered existence in the Olympic village to attend hedonistic parties in the hopes of scoring off the field of competition, as well as on it. Have we finally given up the pretence of hoping that through the Olympics, some greater understanding can be won through cooperation in a joint endeavor, without the prejudice of vested political interests?

I’m not so idealistic as to suggest that a permanent peace can be won solely through the Games, or that we should press for a return to the ancient Greeks’ practice of an all-encompassing truce for its duration. But it is not naïve to think that through the Games, we can work to at least partially fulfill Coubertin’s goals.

To be sure, it would require a radical shift in the way the Games are operated, thought of, and trained for. But imagine if instead of partying the night away after their ski runs, athletes gathered to discuss their cultures and values. Imagine if the Games became a venue for diplomats to meet, as well as for athletes to compete. Imagine if the Olympics linked the world together in the truest sense, instead of merely symbolically, with colored rings on ephemeral pieces of cloth and parchment.