Following a long, gradual slide towards irrelevance, things had been looking up lately for the Commonwealth Games – the Olympics-lite multi-sport competition for British colonies past and present.
The 2022 edition in Birmingham had been a hit, among fans and athletes alike. The Games Federation had increasingly sought to grapple with its challenging past, a complex legacy of colonialism that sits uneasily with the celebratory tone of a major sporting event. Unlike the Olympics, which has tried to silence its participants, the Games had even embraced athlete activism.
And after a mad scramble to find a host for the 2026 Commonwealth Games, because no city really wanted them, Victoria had agreed to host on a multi-location regional basis. It promised to be an exciting proposition: a smaller, more nimble Games, taking elite sport to regional hubs, rather than building more white elephant stadiums on the outskirts of big cities.
Had it been successful, the Victorian approach might have paved the way for a sustainable, refreshed future for the Commonwealth Games – and a point of difference from the Olympic behemoth. A disaggregated model for these turbulent times; regional Games one cycle, perhaps national or even globally-dispersed Games the next?
But it was not to be. On Tuesday, Victorian Premier Daniel Andrews cancelled the 2026 Games. In doing so, has he cancelled them forever?
In the days ahead, much ink will be spilled on Victoria’s decision, including the financial and political implications. The headline figure in Andrews’ press conference, $7bn, seems astonishing. The previously estimated budget of $2.6bn was already higher than recent editions – Birmingham spent about A$1.4bn, while the last Games in Australia, on the Gold Coast in 2018, cost A$1.6bn.
In a statement, the Commonwealth Games Federation noted that since the event was awarded, the government had “made decisions to include more sports and an additional regional hub, and changed plans for venues, all of which have added considerable expense, often against the advice” of the federation. The discrepancy between the cost of recent Games and the figures cited by Andrews, raise questions about whether it was the Games themselves that were too dear, or some particular, Rolls Royce vision of the Games that the Victorian government had in mind.
Of course the cancellation is entirely within the government’s democratic prerogative – only it will be held accountable at the ballot box. The volte-face is also a marked and somewhat laudable contrast from recent Olympics, where the International Olympic Committee has seemingly called the shots despite popular disapproval, such as the Covid Games in Tokyo. But it is a peculiar development nonetheless.
So where does this leave the Commonwealth Games? It is probably premature to write an obituary. Victoria’s cancellation sounded the starting gun for other potential hosts, with suggestions that Perth or Sydney might consider hosting (the loudest cheerleader for Team WA, Perth Lord Mayor Basil Zempilas, also happens to work for Channel Seven – who broadcast the 2022 Games). Successive state premiers poured cold water on these ideas, many also citing budget challenges, but an alternative host, in Australia or abroad, might yet be found.
Even if the 2026 Games go ahead, this high-profile cancellation poses an existential challenge to the Games. As a second-tier event with a first-tier price tag, the Games need to prove their relevance to fans and athletes if they are to continue. It is, after all, an event thought up by a Canadian sportswriter to celebrate the British empire, sparked largely by Canadian-American animosity at a prior Olympics. That Australia’s seafaring ride home from the inaugural Games in Canada sank and left the team stranded only underscores the anachronistic origins.
The world might not mourn the loss of the Commonwealth Games. If, as Andrews promised on Tuesday, the funding is redirected towards regional revitalisation and social housing, that is certainly better value for taxpayer money than an expensive two-week sporting extravaganza (or a glorified school sports carnival, as someone unkindly quipped). The Games’ connection to a history of oppression and bloodshed will always be hard to shake off while they remain, through name and membership, intrinsically linked with Britain’s colonial past.
But for those that believe in the power of sport, to inspire, to foster connection and shared belonging, to promote participation, there will always be a place for major sporting events. The pressing question for the Commonwealth Games is whether they deserve that place.
The timing of the cancellation was oddly apt – just two days out from the first Women’s World Cup to be held on Australian soil. The month ahead will be a joyous celebration of the coming of age of women’s sport, a triumph in breaking down barriers. It will be the biggest standalone women’s sporting event, for a sport that has championed gender equality and LGBTQ+ inclusion. It will be a mega sporting event for our time, a beacon of hope for inclusion and equity, in sport and society alike.
If the Commonwealth Games can reinvent itself to be fit for purpose in the modern era, it might still thrive – notwithstanding the blow of Victoria’s cancellation. If not, the death of the Games, like the end of empire itself, is to be celebrated, not mourned.
