Nike hired Willem Dafoe to narrate its latest commercial, which it launched to coincide with the Paris Olympics. The spot shows video clips of around 20 modern athletic superstars, including LeBron James, Kylian Mbappé, Sha'Carri Richardson, Cristiano Ronaldo, and Serena Williams, as Dafoe delivers the company’s message in malevolent Green Goblin style.

Am I a bad person? Tell me. Am I?

I’m single minded. I’m deceptive. I’m obsessive. I’m selfish.

Does that make me a bad person?

The video, which has been viewed millions of times, continues in this vein for a minute and a half.

I have no empathy. I don’t respect you. I’m never satisfied.

I have an obsession with power. I’m irrational. I have zero remorse. I have no sense of compassion.

Accompanying the video is music drawn from the final movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, famous for its “Ode to Joy.” For two centuries, that soaring hymn has betokened hope and unity, an uplifting vision of humanity in which “all men become brothers.” Nike’s commercial mocks that aspiration. Its toxic narrative is that world-class athletes achieve glory not by striving to be their best, but by reveling in their worst, darkest, and most ruthless impulses.

I want to take what’s yours and never give it back. What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine.

Am I a bad person?

There is nothing subtle about Nike’s meaning. Nike is preaching a gospel of winning at any cost, of suppressing every instinct for decency and magnanimity. It is hard to imagine a message more hostile to good sportsmanship and the Olympic spirit.

Some of the greatest moments in Olympic history exemplify the values Nike mocks.

At the 1936 Summer Games in Berlin, Jesse Owens became the first American to win gold medals in four events — the 100-meter and 200-meter dashes, the 4x100-meter relay, and the long jump. The prowess of the Black track and field star from Cleveland discredited Adolf Hitler’s racial theories and the Nazi dictator left the stadium rather than shake hands with the Games’ most successful athlete.

Yet Owens would have collected only three gold medals had it not been for a different German. Luz Long was a tall, blond Olympian from Leipzig, the seeming personification of everything the Nazis believed about the Aryan “master race.” As the holder of the European long jump record, Long looked forward to competing against Owens, the American record-holder. During the preliminary round, Long performed splendidly, setting a new record. But Owens fouled on his first two attempts. A third foul would have eliminated him.

It was at that moment, as Owens later recounted, that Long advised his most formidable competitor to mark a spot a few inches before the takeoff board and time his jump accordingly. Owens heeded Long’s suggestion, advanced to the final, and went on to win the gold. Long finished with the silver medal.

With no hint of resentment, Long was the first to congratulate Owens. In a scene captured on film, the white German and the Black American walked from the stadium arm in arm. It was an open repudiation of the Nazi ideology and a singular show of political courage on Long’s part. The two men formed a friendship that day that endured until Long’s death in 1943, when he was fatally wounded during World War II.

The story of Owens and Long perfectly embodies the Olympic ideals that Nike goes to such lengths to denigrate. There have been many other such stories. Here are two:

At the Sochi Games in 2014, Russian skier Anton Gafarov crashed as he rounded a corner, breaking his ski and hobbling himself — whereupon the coach of the Canadian cross-country team, Justin Wadsworth, dashed onto the track, replaced the Russian’s damaged ski, and enabled him to finish the race.

Two years later, during the women’s 5,000-meter heat in Rio de Janeiro, New Zealander Nikki Hamblin stumbled and fell, causing Abbey D'Agostino of the United States to stumble and fall as well. D'Agostino was quickly back on her feet, but rather than race off, she stayed to help Hamblin get up. The women resumed running, but D'Agostino, who had been injured, fell again — and this time it was Hamblin who turned back to aid her rival. The double mishap put both runners out of medal contention, but their demonstration of selflessness and compassion captured the hearts of viewers worldwide.

While Nike glorifies athletes who triumph through an arrogant and pitiless unconcern for others, the most inspiring of all competitors are those who never forget that winning is not the only thing. Nike’s new commercial may help sell more sneakers, but it will do nothing to encourage true athletic greatness.