The Olympic truce was spectacular. An almost enchanted interlude in a world of brutes and the sound of marching boots. Even though the deadly conflicts in Gaza and Ukraine continued, the cries of the innocents falling under the bombs barely distracted the Western viewer, eyes fixed on archery or javelin throwing. In the name of Olympism, weapons can suddenly become symbols of peace and the love of athletic effort. Paris 2024 triumphed. The bar is set high for the upcoming Los Angeles Olympics in 2028. The French interlude of a world united and at peace with itself already resonates with a certain nostalgia. A sense of melancholy nudges the minds of the well-meaning. Everyone will once again return to their daily routines and find their everyday life in their respective countries. Here, a bloody armed conflict, there, a threatening political crisis, elsewhere floods, famine, dying children, bombed schools…

Every four years, during the Olympics, the entire world (or almost) experiences with hope this Olympic truce: flags fly side by side, athletes compete but embrace on the podiums. And we begin to dream of a better world. Out of naivety? Out of hope?

The awakening is always brutal, like a harsh, pale light tearing through the night of so many of our dreams. The Paris Olympics were an enchantment. A waking dream. The superlatives accompanying Paris 2024 are ultimately just a fair and proportionate reflection of a world in crisis, on the brink of a global war. A war on battlefields, but also a war between wokeness that seeks to sweep away our old civilizations.

The world held its breath as it watched a champion swim, jump, score… because the anxiety of every citizen of the world drove them to idealize these moments of Olympism, where confrontation on the field had nothing of the warlike or the semantic, as in real life.

The world returns to its missteps. The important thing was to participate in the belief in a better world.