09/11/2025
At Hi**er's Olympics, two Japanese pole vaulters tied for second. They refused to compete for medals, cut them in half, and fused them.
Five years later, one was dead.
August 5, 1936. Berlin. The Olympic Stadium was packedâ100,000 spectators, including Adolf Hi**er, watching the pole vault finals.
N**i Germany was hosting the Olympics as propaganda showcase. Hi**er wanted to prove A***n racial superiority. The Games were spectacle, politics, nationalism on display.
In the pole vault competition, American Earle Meadows won gold, clearing 4.35 meters.
Behind him, two Japanese athletesâShuhei Nishida and Sueo Ĺeâboth cleared 4.25 meters. They were tied for second place.
According to Olympic rules, they should have competed in a jump-off: keep vaulting until one cleared a height the other missed. Winner gets silver, loser gets bronze.
Officials offered the jump-off.
Nishida and Ĺe looked at each other. Then they declined.
They weren't rivals. They were teammates. Friends. Training partners who'd pushed each other to reach the Olympics together.
Why should they compete against each other now?
The officials had a problem: Two athletes tied for second, both refusing to break the tie. Olympic protocol required medals be awarded: one silver, one bronze.
So officials made the decision: Nishida received silver because he had fewer failed attempts at 4.25m. Ĺe received bronze.
Neither man protested. They accepted the officials' ruling.
But neither was entirely satisfied. They'd achieved the same height. They'd both earned second place. The distinction between silver and bronze felt arbitrary.
At the medal ceremony, they stood on the podium:
Earle Meadows (USA) - Gold
Shuhei Nishida (Japan) - Silver
Sueo Ĺe (Japan) - Bronze
Both Japanese athletes smiled. Both congratulated each other. But something felt incomplete.
When they returned to Japan, Nishida and Ĺe decided to do something unprecedented.
They took their Olympic medalsâsilver and bronze, official Olympic hardwareâto a craftsman.
They asked him to cut both medals in half.
Then they asked him to fuse them: half of Nishida's silver with half of Ĺe's bronze. Half of Ĺe's bronze with half of Nishida's silver.
The result: two medals, each half silver and half bronze.
These weren't official Olympic medals anymore. They were something better: symbols of equal achievement, mutual respect, and friendship.
In Japan, they became known as the "YĹŤjĹ no Medaru"âthe Friendship Medals.
Why this mattered in 1936:
The Berlin Olympics were about nationalism, racial superiority, competition between nations. Hi**er wanted German athletes to dominate, proving N**i ideology.
(Jesse Owens, the Black American sprinter, undermined this by winning four gold medalsâbut that's another story.)
In that contextânationalism, militarism, racial ideologyâNishida and Ĺe's gesture was radical.
They said: Friendship matters more than ranking. Shared achievement matters more than individual glory.
It was quiet defiance of the Olympics' competitive, nationalistic ethos.
It was also very Japanese: the cultural value of wa (harmony) over individual distinction. The idea that preserving relationships matters more than hierarchy.
Five years later, the world was at war.
Japan had invaded China, allied with N**i Germany and Fascist Italy (Axis Powers), and in December 1941 would attack Pearl Harbor, bringing the United States into World War II.
But before Pearl Harborâin March 1941âSueo Ĺe was already dead.
Ĺe had become a naval pilot. He was shot down during a combat mission in March 1941, nine months before Pearl Harbor.
He was 27 years old.
Shuhei Nishida, his friend, his teammate, the man who'd shared the podium with him in Berlin and fused their medals togetherâwas now alone.
Ĺe's fused medal went to his family. Nishida kept his.
Nishida lived another 56 years.
He became a physical education teacher, an educator, a advocate for sports and youth development. He taught at schools, coached athletes, spoke about sportsmanship.
He often told the story of the Friendship Medalsâhow he and Ĺe had refused to compete against each other, how they'd cut their medals in half and fused them.
But now, the story carried new weight: his friend was dead. The war they'd both hoped to avoid had killed him.
The Friendship Medals weren't just about sportsmanship anymore. They were about loss, memory, the fragility of peace.
Nishida died in 1997 at age 84. His fused medalâhalf silver, half bronzeâwas donated to Waseda University in Tokyo, where it's displayed.
Ĺe's medal was eventually displayed at Shizuoka Stadium.
What the Friendship Medals mean:
At the 1936 Berlin OlympicsâHi**er's propaganda showcase, a spectacle of nationalism and racial ideologyâtwo Japanese pole vaulters tied for second place.
Officials said: One of you gets silver, one gets bronze. Compete.
Nishida and Ĺe said: No. We're equal. We achieved the same thing.
Then they took the medals officials gave them, cut them in half, and fused them so each had half silver, half bronze.
It was an act of quiet rebellion against the Olympics' competitive hierarchy.
It was also profoundly human: choosing friendship over ranking, equality over distinction.
Five years later, Ĺe died in World War II. The friendship that had outshone the podium was cut short by the war both nations were marching toward.
Nishida lived on, carrying both his fused medal and the memory of his friend.
Today, the story endures because:
1. It's about sportsmanship: In an era of hyper-competition, doping scandals, and win-at-all-costs mentality, the Friendship Medals remind us that sports can be about something more than winning.
2. It's about friendship: Nishida and Ĺe valued their relationship more than medal color. That's rare, especially at Olympic level where athletes train their entire lives for podium placement.
3. It's tragic: The friendship was real, the gesture was beautiful, and then war killed one of them five years later. The Friendship Medals couldn't save Ĺe from being shot down over the Pacific.
4. It's human: In 1936 Berlin, amid N**i propaganda and rising militarism, two athletes chose kindness. That choice couldn't stop the war, but it mattered anyway.
At Hi**er's Olympics, two Japanese pole vaulters tied for second.
Officials said: Compete for silver and bronze.
They said: No. We're friends.
They cut their medals in half and fused them. Each got half silver, half bronze.
Five years later, Sueo Ĺe was deadâshot down as naval pilot at age 27.
Shuhei Nishida lived to 84, carrying his fused medal and the memory of his friend.
The medals are displayed nowâNishida's at Waseda University, Ĺe's at Shizuoka Stadium.
Two pieces of metal, half silver and half bronze, fused together.
A reminder that true greatness isn't just about winning.
It's about choosing friendship when the world demands competition.
Even when the world is about to tear itself apart.
