As the second half of the new Roaring Twenties unfolds, the 2028 Los Angeles Olympics looms just around the corner. While athletes train relentlessly and tourists scramble for tickets, city officials are hailing the event as a transformative opportunity to modernize infrastructure, boost economic growth, and cement LA’s status as a “global city.” 

But beneath these promises lies a far more unsettling reality. Since when was the Olympics solely a sporting event? When did it become a mechanism for neoliberal urban restructuring?

The Olympics is another plot in one of the million movies LA produces, and this one is titled “Compete or Die”. The city’s bid to host the Games is emblematic of what urban theorists like Neil Brenner would describe as “urban entrepreneurialism.” Cities act like businesses, aggressively branding themselves to attract global investment, corporate headquarters, and elite tourism. Within this framework, the goal to be a “global city” is not an option, but a necessity.

But at what cost? As LA moves closer to a global spectacle, its own residents move closer to a local disaster. Through gentrification, displacement and infrastructure plans that prioritize Olympic logistics over long-term public benefit, Angelenos are left stranded. The higher-ups may celebrate this 16-day event as a career-defining milestone, but for many, LA28 is less about progress and more about survival in a city that doesn’t prioritize them.

 
​

Brenner argues that modern cities no longer function primarily as places for residents to live and work, but are now operating as “territorial competitors” within a globalized neoliberal economy. Hence, to answer my question above, the Olympics are not just about sports, they are about urban marketing, attracting global capital, and restructuring cities in ways that benefit investors rather than the everyday people.

The “Compete or Die” mentality accelerates this process. In a system where a city’s economic relevance is defined by its ability to lure multinational firms and high-end visitors, LA’s leaders see the Olympics as a high-stakes opportunity to brand the city as a premier global metropolis. The logic is simple: host the Games, showcase the city, attract investors, and secure LA’s global significance. And if LA doesn’t do it, another city will. 

Yet, this pursuit undermines democratic participation and social equity. While LA28 is promoted as “community-driven”, it is not shaped by public need, but by corporate and political interests. Residents have little say in how their neighborhoods will be transformed, while developers and sponsors customize the city’s future.




Gentrification is not an unintended consequence of the Olympics, and perhaps it is a strategic outcome. Real estate and infrastructure are not neutral developments, they are political instruments used to reshape urban space in ways that serve private interests. The Games provide a pretext for spurting this process, and we've seen this pattern before.

In Rio 2016, entire favelas were demolished on the pretense of Olympic development, displacing over 60,000 residents. In London 2012, rapid gentrification replaced working-class communities with luxury developments and tech offices. Even in LA’s own 1984 Olympics, property value soared, and rents in low-income neighborhoods went beyond the imaginable ceiling. 

These same dynamics are happening in Boyle Heights, Inglewood and South LA. Developers are on a purchasing spree in anticipation of a post-Olympic real estate boom. With nearly 70,000 people already experiencing homelessness, these shifts are not just disruptive, but extremely devastating. 

Apart from real estate, Olympic infrastructure follows the same logic. Though the mayor’s announcement of a car-free Olympics may suggest a commitment to sustainability and long-term transit investment, reality can be deceiving. Many of the Metro expansions are designed to move visitors between venues, not to address the chronic mobility struggles of working-class Angelenos. 

Unless explicitly planned for the long-term, these projects risk becoming another example of how the city’s Olympics legacy favors spectacle or substance, investors over communities, and global prestige over public good. 

So the next time city officials say “We have done it before, we can do it again”, in reference to the Olympics, it’s not reassuring—it’s terrifying.

 
 

One of the biggest myths about LA28 is that everything will be privately funded. Though organizers claim that the $6.9 billion budget will be covered by sponsorships, broadcasting rights and ticket sales, rarely does Olympic budgets stay within their estimates. A University of Oxford study on Olympic costs shows that Tokyo 2021 ended up 128% over budget, while Rio 2016 was 352% over. When LA28’s budget inevitably balloons, taxpayers will be left to cover the difference. 

Beyond direct costs, the Games impose deeper economic consequences on the city. Public land is handed over to developers, restricting community access. Corporate tax breaks and incentives mean lost revenue for the city’s essential services. Security and policing expenditure dramatically increased, diverting resources from housing, education and public welfare. 

The result? A post-olympic city dominated by privatized public spaces, corporate interests and real estate speculation. It’s a shame when a city facilitates long-term rewards to investors, trading away the liveliness of the communities that built it.




Los Angeles officials insist that LA28 will be sustainable, equitable and community-driven. But without a fundamental shift in how the event is planned, the Games will be an enabler to neoliberal urban restructuring, benefiting investors while displacing communities. 

Albeit skepticism, public opinion remains divided. A LA Times poll found that 57% of Angelenos believe the Olympics will be “good for the city.” But optimism alone does not guarantee a just outcome, the real question is: good for whom? 

The 2028 Olympics will not just define LA’s place in the global city hierarchy, it will also define who the city is designed for. If Angelenos do not demand real accountability, they may wake up in a city that no longer belongs to them.