Construction on the China Central Television building, located in Beijing about 20 miles from the Olympic Green, is expected to be completed by summer.BEIJING – Chinese schoolchildren are taught that, yes, Mao Zedong was guilty of bad decisions (atrocities, the word that leaps to mind among outsiders, isn’t often uttered). Yet with peculiar precision, the kids are told that positives outnumbered negatives when it came to the revered father of the country’s communist party by a ratio of two to one.
The world can only hope for a greater proportion of positives at the Olympic Games here this summer.
Competition will take place in sparkling architectural marvels. The jarring juxtaposition of ultramodern hotels, lavish restaurants and indoor malls a short taxi ride from centuries-old homes deep in musty avenues called hutongs will astonish visitors. The Great Wall is less than an hour from downtown Beijing. The Forbidden City – a magnificent complex of ancient palaces and courtyards that was the exclusive domain of emperors for nearly 500 years – is as accessible as Disney World.
But Chinese officials have admitted that 15,000 residents were relocated to make way for the Olympic venues, and a Geneva-based watchdog group estimated the number at 1.5 million. Hundreds of workers died during the frantic construction and renovation of the venues. A crackdown on dissidents and journalists in the months leading up to the Games has been documented. And, of course, there was the Chinese army’s brutality in quelling dissent in Tibet, prompting a worldwide outcry and protests that have disrupted the Olympic torch relay.
China is learning, however grudgingly and haltingly, that censorship and all-encompassing control is exceedingly difficult to impose in the 21st century. But the authorities haven’t stopped trying, as exhibited last month during the first Major League Baseball games in China, two exhibitions between the Los Angeles Dodgers and San Diego Padres.
The MLB contingent was left with the sense that the Chinese are so worried about being embarrassed that they embarrass themselves. They are so concerned about losing face that the stern countenance they project looks clueless to the rest of the world.
Within the five-star walls of the Grand Hyatt hotel, a visitor could have been anywhere in the world – until one click of the television remote. During a news segment, the screen went black for several minutes. The brutality in Tibet, which escalated the day of the first ballgame, was censored. Most Chinese get their news from China Central Television, unabashed propaganda fed directly by the nation’s Communist party.
Dodgers pitcher Chan Ho Park was prevented from signing autographs last month by Chinese security officers, who formed a human wall to keep him from fans.
Such censorship is increasingly ineffective because communication in China is no different than anywhere else. Cell phone reception from a Beijing taxi to Southern California was exceptional. Padres and Dodgers players visiting the Great Wall beamed text messages and photographs instantly to the other side of the globe. Olympic athletes will be allowed to blog from the Games. How could they be stopped?
Hundreds of thousands of spectators, athletes and media members will be moving in and out of the 300 or so sporting events for three weeks. A deft balance of control and tolerance will be necessary to keep crowds flowing and to avoid unnecessary altercations or displays of force. And if MLB’s test run was any indication, there’s plenty left to improve over the next three months.
The Chinese government’s penchant for control is exercised not through overt intimidation but mostly in annoying and nonsensical ways. The night before the first game, the MLB-issued credentials for all 240 people associated with the two teams – from executives to players to trainers to reporters – were deemed invalid, and everyone had to obtain new credentials issued by the Beijing Police Department.
Padres owner John Moores and Hall of Fame outfielder Dave Winfield were among those barred from entering Wukesong Stadium because they didn’t have the correct, last-minute credentials.
“The government is constantly sending the message that ‘we are in control, you are not,’ ” one MLB official said. “They can’t relinquish even the slightest decision-making to outsiders.”
Fans had to walk through a gauntlet of dozens of uniformed officers, step through metal detectors and endure pat-downs from head to toe. The process was so slow that at game time, about two-thirds of the 12,000 fans were in long lines outside the stadium.
Police officers apprehend a demonstrator waving a Tibetan flag, right, as he tries to interrupt the Olympic torch parade before an athlete in a wheelchair, left, takes the relay near the Eiffel tower in Paris on April 7.In an unnecessary display of intimidation with political undercurrents, security officers prevented Dodgers pitcher Chan Ho Park from signing autographs for a group of about 40 fans of Korean descent after a game. Uniformed officers interlocked arms to form a human wall around the infuriated Park.
Opening ceremonies before the first game were curtailed, and the suspicion was that officials were concerned that unscripted protests might occur over the escalating situation in Tibet.
“It’s difficult for the government to accept input from anybody else,” an MLB security official said. “They have to find out the hard way. Many of their fears were unfounded.”
The Chinese know the world will be watching the Olympics. Some outsiders will seek fault in everything authorities do, and make no mistake, there is bound to be plenty to complain about. Others will recognize that this vast undertaking by a massive country in transition will have hiccups, and they’ll cut the Chinese some slack.
The torch relay incidents fanned flames of human rights issues that undoubtedly will flare up again. The IOC has made it clear that athletes will not be denied freedom of speech, and the Chinese have pledged to allow journalists covering the Games to also report on other aspects of the country.
“Athletes in many countries are in disarray, and we need to reassure them,” IOC president Jacques Rogge said a few days ago. “Our major responsibility is to offer them the Games they deserve. We have 120 days to achieve this.”
Politics aside, athletes have felt considerable angst already. The Beijing air is famously foul, an acrid stench wafting over the city of 20 million, and locals say it worsens in the summer sun.
Beijing police officers align at the National Stadium, dubbed the Bird’s Nest.
Even though the Chinese have taken steps to improve the air quality, the lead exercise physiologist for the USOC recommended in January that all the athletes wear protective masks until their competition begins. The idea didn’t catch on. Covered faces of athletes would cause China to lose considerable face of its own, adding to the litany of perceived insults.
The country will stand on its facilities, which are wondrous. The national stadium where opening and closing ceremonies take place – called the “Bird’s Nest” because it looks like one – seats more than 90,000. Next door is the National Aquatics Center, an ocean-blue rectangular building called the “Water Cube” because it resembles an aquarium. China wants the public to stay as close to the venues as possible for fear of the government taking issue to anything with political undertones.
China has suggested it will ban live television shots from Tiananmen Square, the spot where soldiers killed hundreds of pro-democracy students in 1989. The enormous portrait of Mao hanging above the Tiananmen Gate to the Forbidden City could become a background shot and a sound bite, its presence a symbol of the country’s complicated, contradictory past open for mischaracterization. Understandably, officials want to keep the focus on the Games.
A glimpse into the way Chinese officials regard the media was revealed in a column by the country’s ambassador to Great Britain after the torch relay protests in London.
The National Aquatics Center, also known as the Water Cube, will host the swimming and diving competitions.
“Many (Chinese) who had romantic views about the West are very disappointed at the media’s attempt to demonize China,” Madame Fu Ying wrote in the British Sunday Telegraph. “We all know demonization feeds a counter-reaction.
“Many (outsiders) complain about China not allowing enough access to the media. In China, the view is that the Western media needs to make an effort to earn respect.”
Respect might not be foremost on the mind of the deluge of reporters and camera operators this summer. More likely well-told stories and compelling footage will head their agendas. And if there are protests, or altercations, or worse, those will be covered, too.
The Chinese cannot assume their usual mind-your-own-business stance. They asked for these Olympics. They consider this their welcome into the global community. Scrutiny is part of the package.
Yes, it will be incumbent on the rest of the world to judge fairly, to avoid casting the unavoidable logistical issues and inconveniences inherent in hosting an event this large and long as an indictment on Chinese capabilities.
“The world has waited for China to join it, now China has the patience to wait for the world to understand China,” Fu wrote.
And if the positives do outweigh the negatives by only a two-to-one ratio, if the 2008 Olympic Games are remembered as a mixed bag of athletic glory and governmental clumsiness, China will have to keep waiting for that understanding.
