As an immigration lawyer who's has handled numerous asylum claims over the last 10 years, I applaud any attempt to stare down tyrants. It's distasteful to play a role in enabling this repressive regime to take its place on the international stage.
And yet, how can we realistically demand that our presidents and prime ministers, our champions and their coaches boycott the games when we ration our righteous indignation over persecution in such a hypocritically inconsistent manner?
Sure, China houses fields of horror. But so does Cuba. The Castros have imprisoned anyone who's had the courage to raise a voice against a regime that, with the shameful acquiescence of the American far left, has condemned two generations to hell.
And, in this case, we have many of the same "human-rights" activists criticizing the U.S. embargo, despite it's loopholes that let students and journalists and propagandists like Michael Moore visit the floating prison on "humanitarian missions." For consistency's sake, why don't we just label our Olympic athletes "humanitarian ambassadors" and hope they have the same effect as the portly documentarian?
But you know the answer: We can't expect the activists who embrace Cuba to get all warm and fuzzy about its totalitarian cousin to the East. That would be far too logical.
After all, international outrage defies logic. Thirty years ago, the cause was apartheid. No self-respecting college student made it through his academic career without hitting at least one protest, one sit-in, one divestment conference.
Bishop Desmond Tutu won the Nobel Peace Prize. Nelson Mandela became a rallying point from Toronto to Tasmania. And the international human-rights community formed a consensus that purged apartheid from South Africa.
