It’s hard to remember another issue in state politics that brought right and left together like Boston’s Olympic bid. And for Olympic boosters, that’s become a major problem—because the improbable alliances that have been created tend to involve opponents and skeptics of the games.
Case in point: the unlikely affinity between activist Robin Jacks and State Representative Geoff Diehl, who have similar perspectives on Boston 2024 but radically different political identities.
Jacks is a proud lefty. She’s an alumna of Occupy Boston, who used Twitter to chronicle that movement from the inside. And she made the Boston Police Patrolmen’s Association sweat over offensive content in its newsletter, the Pax Centurion.
“I’d say I’m at an extreme end of the political spectrum,” Jacks says. “I don’t deny that for a minute.
Now, Jacks is a co-founder of No Boston 2024, whose public-records requests have yielded a slew of damaging headlines. Ask Jacks why she opposes the games, and she cites concerns ranging from the treatment of LGBT protesters during the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics to the dismantling of Brazilian favelas before the 2016 summer games to gentrification here in Boston.
“It’s the biggest problem that we have that people won’t talk about,” Jacks says of the latter issue. “This, of course, disproportionately affects people of color, disproportionately affects the poor people in Boston. And instead of dealing with that, they’re just apparently building luxury condos that will go on the market when the Olympics are over.”
And then there’s Representative Geoff Diehl, who led a fight last year to repeal automatic hikes to the state’s gas tax. When repeal passed, it cemented Diehl’s status as a conservative darling.
“I’d say [I’m] obviously Republican, and to an extent libertarian,” Diehl says of his personal political philosophy. “I feel the more freedom or power we have at the local level, the better we are.”
Now, Diehl has teamed up with former gubernatorial candidate Evan Falchuck to push another ballot question, which would ban the use of taxpayer funds for the Olympics.
“Really what I’m looking for, an issues like the gas tax or the ballot question on the Olympics, is to try to make sure that dollars aren’t flowing out of the state in ways we can’t control,” he says.
But Diehl also says he’s worried about Boston 2024’s secretive M.O.—which has been a frequent source of complaint for Jacks and her allies, too.
“The common thread I think on the whole Olympics 2024 opposition, I think, is concern for the money, and then some of the lack of transparency,” Diehl says. “And…the concern that we haven’t been getting their full information, and forthcoming, from day one.”
That “common thread” has its limits. Diehl says that ultimately, he’d like to see the Olympics here if taxpayers are protected. Jacks believes the games are a bad idea, period.
There’s also a significant divergence over tactics. Diehl says the so-called “ wake-up call” staged by activists outside Boston Mayor Marty Walsh’s home in the middle of the night recently was “offensive.” Jacks—who wasn’t involved in that protest—says that’s simply how activism works.
But on one key point, Jacks and Diehl in full agreement: the breadth of Olympics pushback is an asset.
“It’s an issue that’s probably even bigger than the gas tax issue,” Diehl says. “It’s going to involve multiple groups, and nobody’s going to necessarily be able to control any one group.
“I don’t think we all have to be sitting down together at the table and coming up with one strategy,” says Jacks. “2024 is being hit from a lot of angles. I don’t think they know what to do with that—and I think it’s working.
