Eric Liddell: The man who put God before gold

THIRTY years after Lord Puttnam brought the story of Eric Liddell so memorably to life in Chariots of Fire, the Oscar-winning film-maker pays tribute to the Scottish athlete who put his faith before Olympic glory and in doing so became one of the greatest Olympians of them all

In my early twenties I went to see the film A Man for All Seasons. Its impact became the foundation stone on which, many years later, I built Chariots of Fire – both were essentially about choices. In fact all of my best films have, in one way and another, been about people – invariably men – making difficult, sometimes very difficult choices. Life changing decisions, about what’s really worth living – and in some cases, dying for.

Everything I’ve read makes it clear that the depth of Eric Liddell’s commitment; the degree to which his beliefs formed him – and his desire to bring them into every aspect of his life were, in many respects, formed at the University of Edinburgh.

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It was precisely those qualities that inspired the genesis of the film; and it’s the strength of our identification with his commitment that gives Chariots of Fire its universality and, in my judgment, its broad and continuing appeal.

So how does this manifest itself in the film? Eric discovered very early on that he was able to take advantage of his fame as a sportsman to attract audiences to his sermons and the film shows him, in the aftermath of a local athletic event, talking to a small crowd in the rain.

He describes life as being like “a long-distance race”, and talks about the all too human cost of poverty; the daily struggle for existence.

He finishes by saying: “So where does the power come from to see the race to the end – it comes from within.”

Later, in Paris, on the Sunday on which he was supposed to be running in the 100 metres [at the 1924 Olympic Games], we find him in a pulpit delivering a reading from Isaiah, Chapter 40.

“He gives power to the faint, and to them that have no strength, he increases might.

“But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.

“They shall mount up with wings, like eagles.

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“They shall run and not be weary; they shall walk, and not be faint.”

These two scenes are drawn together during the climactic 400 metres final, during which we hear his voice, repeating these same beliefs; but he adds one final thought, part of a conversation he’d had with his sister when they were walking on Arthur’s Seat: “Jenny, I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast; and when I run I feel his pleasure.”

His head goes back, the music swells, and his personal victory is assured – in more ways than one. Surely that’s all of a piece with the University’s ethos, which is expressed as: “Neither rashly nor timidly.” I would argue, as with Eric, so with today’s institution.

In fact, Chariots of Fire was an attempt to illustrate two very different concepts of achievement, two separate notions of sacrifice; put another way, it was an attempt to contrast and compare differing ideas of what “achievement” really means.

Pierre De Coubertin, father of the Modern Games, famously said that for him “the Olympics is all about ‘taking part’, and doing the best you possibly can, in fair competition with other athletes from across the world”.

My own favourite line from the movie, to a degree, I’ve found resonating throughout my entire adult life. Towards the end of the film, Eric is in the stands watching his great rival, Harold Abrahams, walking out for the final of the 100 metres – the final he was supposed to run in.

His coach, Sandy, leans across to him and asks: “Any regrets, Eric – that you’re not down there with them?”

Eric nods, and replies: “Regrets, yes – no doubts though!”

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I believe Eric to have been an exemplary, and totally inspirational man – and the University of Edinburgh should take enormous pride in the fact it was there that his beliefs and commitment were nurtured, and it was there that his extraordinary moral courage also became apparent to just about everyone who came into contact with him.

Eric’s moral position is reflected in Chariots of Fire through a number of quasi-spiritual references, some of which seem to have had a significant impact on many people.

So much so that, over the years I’ve received maybe a dozen letters from people claiming that the film actually persuaded them against committing suicide; that it offered exactly the kind of encouragement they needed to see themselves through this or that particular crisis.

For example, you may remember how Eric agrees to race in those Highland Games in borrowed running shoes – his trousers held up by braces – and for the very first time the film goes into slow motion.

There is a marvellous panning shot that travels with him as he runs around the track in the field. It’s at that moment, when the music starts and you notice the set of his face and the way his body is leaning, that you realise that this is about something far deeper than running a race, or any Olympic Games.

Eric’s courage, commitment and profound beliefs were to see him through his final days in the Weihsein Internment camp in China.

Many will know the story of his giving up the opportunity to be released from the camp in favour of a young woman who was expecting a baby – it’s stories like that which help explain his quite extraordinary reputation in China where, along with the Canadian doctor, Edgar Snow, he is among a very select few westerners who are, to this day, officially honoured throughout that vast and complex country.

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Chariots of Fire is special, in fact extraordinary in the degree to which it insisted on being made; and not only made, but successfully released throughout the world.

Many times the film survived various crises in the process of being financed, produced and distributed. But at every turn there seemed to be, what I can only describe as a hidden hand, which helped provide the best possible solution to each seemingly impossible hurdle.

One of these concerned the International Olympic Committee themselves who were at that point, to put it mildly, unenthusiastic and unhelpful in granting us permission to make any direct visual reference to the Games, let alone the use of the five rings.

This impasse was only solved at the last minute through the intervention of a remarkable woman I never had the privilege of meeting.

Her name was Monique Berlioux, and at the time she was the all-powerful Director of the IOC Secretariat.

Responding to what were by now desperate pleas, she telephoned me to say that the idea of the movie was turning out to be rather too “radical” for her to extract formal permission from the relevant committee, but that she’d read the script and liked it; she advised that we simply “press ahead”.

She went on to make the point that if the resulting film wasn’t particularly good it was unlikely that the committee would even know it existed; whereas if it were successful the IOC could bask in the glow and, in those circumstances, could they please have a copy for their archives.

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Two years later a mint print of the Oscar-garlanded movie was safely tucked up in a vault in Lausanne!

I now know rather more about this courageous and independent minded woman, and the fact that she was prepared to stick her neck out for me, and to consolidate the memory of one of the greatest Olympians isn’t in the least surprising.

Monique Berlioux represented France in the post-Second World War Olympics as a swimmer. During the war she had been a member of the French Resistance in Paris.

I gather that one of the ways the Germans controlled Paris was by cutting off access to the bridges across the Seine at night, and stopping and searching anyone who attempted to cross them by day.

To circumvent this, each night, as a young woman, Monique Berlioux would swim back and forth across the river carrying messages in a waterproof pouch.

It was unlikely that anyone on the Olympic Committee could seriously intimidate her!

Given Eric’s extraordinary history, I very much doubt anyone would argue with the proposition that “God works in mysterious ways”.

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My own most memorable experience of the truth of this came one afternoon in 1981, when I screened the recently completed Chariots of Fire for Eric’s widow and three daughters.

They had come all the way from Canada especially to see the film, in fact the youngest daughter had never met her father, having been born after he was arrested and interned.

After the lights came up, and through more than a few tears, Mrs Liddell said: “You know, Eric would be so pleased. He was aware of being a poor speaker – he never felt able to get his message, the things in his heart, across to even a small congregation.

“Yet your wee young man in the film has given Eric the voice he never had, and for that reason alone he’d have been overjoyed.”

It was, without doubt, the greatest compliment for a job well done that I ever have, or ever will receive.

Edinburgh, and Scotland, should be very, very proud of Eric Liddell and everything he represents.

• This is an extract of Lord Puttnam’s tribute to Eric Liddell delivered as part of The Edinburgh Lectures 2012, presented by the City of Edinburgh Council in association with the University of Edinburgh and the Eric Liddell Centre.