100 Books Like Olympic Industry Resistance

With both fascism and attacks on transgender people on the rise in the United States and globally, it’s easy to become paralyzed with dread.

This book is a crucial antidote to freezing from fascism-induced fear. In this book, Michael Waters deftly traces the experiences of courageous trans and intersex athletes from the 1930s who embraced their true selves despite public pushback. And Waters delivers these stories with silky prose; this a nonfiction book that slides down the brain hatch like a novel.

In this book, David Goldblatt chronicles the political history of the Olympics, beginning in the 1890s when a plucky French aristocrat, Baron Pierre de Coubertin, chiseled the ancient Greek Olympics from antiquity and rendered them in modern form.

Goldblatt is a sports lover through and through who celebrates Olympic athletes in all their resplendent glory while also skewering the five-ring honchos who all too often pursue their own narrow interests over the collective good. This book brims with fun forays into the quirky crevices of Olympic history with a close eye on how culture matters.

I love watching Caster Semenya run. The South African middle-distance runner who powered her way to two Olympic gold medals and three World Championships in the women’s 800-meter run is not only an icon on the track but off it, too.

In this book, she catalogs the (sometimes cruel, mean-spirited) efforts of naysayers, rendering them impotent beneath the force and grace of her determination and pride. Deemed suspiciously masculine by casual fans and sports administrators alike, Semenya explains how she transcended the unfounded hate and created a life rooted in love. Discipline is freedom, she asserts. In our perilous political times, I couldn’t agree more.

In this edited collection, Russell Field assembles a capable slate of writers who offer ground-eye explanations of how various Winter Olympics affected everyday working people, generating local dissent. Perhaps because the Winter Olympics are smaller than their splashy Summer cousin—today, the Winter Games feature around 2,900 athletes while the Summer Olympics have upwards of 10,500—they have spawned less scholarly and media attention.

This book addresses that deficit with riveting chapters, including one on the Denver 1976 Olympics that never happened after locals torpedoed the event through a public referendum, another on the Sochi 2014 Games in Putin’s Russia, and yet another featuring the politics of the Pyeongchang Olympics in South Korea.

This is a must-read if you want to get the full story behind the Winter Olympics. (Full disclosure: I contributed a chapter on the 2010 Vancouver Winter Games).

This book provides one of the best factual examinations of arguably the most powerful sports organization in the world, along with its extensive network involved in staging the Olympic Games. Published during the year the Olympics were held in communist China, it provides fascinating insights into the actors connected to the Olympic Movement and how money, power, and politics often are the key factors driving decisions.

I was especially attracted to the plethora of graphs and figures providing concise, informative snapshots of critical and often elusive information such as TOP sponsor fees paid, employee lists for international federations, television redistribution entities, and voting rights of the World Anti-doping Agency.

There aren’t many sources that can provide as much proprietary information, especially with respect to the financial and governance domains of the IOC and its broader ecosystem. This book is the one I reach for most often when needing to find… show more.

If you love villains, you’ll love this book (plus all these villains are real).

Psychopathic dictators, Russian arms dealers, ultra-violent warlords, and corrupt French presidents all show the evil oil can inspire—and the ruin it can bring to a country. I had to put this book down a few times; the depravity around oil can shock even those of us who think we’ve heard it all.

Eve tackles the topic of ectogenesis – gestation outside the womb. From literature to bioethics to cutting-edge medical research, the book examines this complex topic in creative ways.

Its chapter on abortion politics is particularly insightful because it considers how technology that allows for gestation in artificial wombs might lead to restrictions in abortion laws.

Horn’s writing blends sociological, legal, and bioethical analysis together with personal reflections on her own experience of pregnancy.

Not only is this one of the best books I’ve read on reproductive politics, but it’s one of the best books on the experience of being pregnant because it beautifully reflects on the complex social meanings of pregnancy and its physical embodiment. Eve is written in a highly accessible style, so readers without prior knowledge of the topic will find the narrative compelling.

This book does a fantastic job of illustrating something that I explore in my own work: pro-slavery (and anti-Black) white Americans were not the only obstacles facing abolitionists in the fight for racial equality.

The abolitionist movement itself was often divided along racial lines. Black abolitionists pushed for radical, egalitarian change in all aspects of American life. When push came to shove, however, many of their white counterparts had a limit as to how far they would go.

Bell shows how this dynamic played out at progressive colleges like Oberlin before, during, and after the Civil War. The implications of this book, however, stretch far beyond those campuses–and far beyond that time.

This book illuminates the wrenching moral problems humanitarian international NGOs (like Oxfam and Save the Children) face.

How should NGOs balance their responsibilities to aid those who depend on them with their responsibilities to avoid entrenching that dependency? How should they react when the resources they provide are siphoned off by malicious third parties and used to fuel conflict? Given that NGOs are not democratically elected, can their power over aid recipients be justified?

Rubenstein addresses questions like these, drawing on her expertise as an ethicist and several months of fieldwork. I left this book thinking there were no easy answers to the questions Rubenstein raised—but with a much clearer understanding of the moral considerations I would need to account for if I wanted to answer them for myself.

There is so much understandable suspicion about how organisations use or misuse your personal data that it's hard to see the many potential benefits of data sharing. This book restores a little faith in technology and those who develop it for public benefit.

It is a compelling read, learning how data can be used for good and bad, with many references to the author’s personal journey, from working in customer services to being an internet entrepreneur before becoming a researcher.