Olympic Sized Changes to Hong Kong’s Patriotism

In a local Hong Kong cha-chaan-teng, the equivalent to a the quintessential American diner, middle-aged, working class men sit around shared tables for a cheap but hearty dinner. The men do not know one another, but their eyes are collectively glued to the 40 inch television screen hanging on the wall. It is day 14 of the Rio 2016 Summer Olympics, and badminton, a local favorite, is playing on the screen. As more people enter the diner, they pull up a chair and sit down around the table; without acknowledging the others, they will invariably voice their commentary aloud. On the screen, Malaysia’s Lee Chong Wei is playing against the two-time Olympic gold medalist, and title defender, Lin Dan from China. But there wasn’t a clear favorite in the match itself, or amongst the dinnertime commentary in the restaurant.

The 2016 Olympics have been somewhat uneventful for China, with one of their lowest ever medal hauls since their official inclusion into the summer games in Los Angeles in 1984 (they participated in one event in the 1952 Summer Olympics in Helsinki, and were not seen again for 32 years, as Taiwan had claimed the use of the name China).

Conversely, Hong Kong, either as a colony of Great Britain or as a Chinese territory, has always been an underdog at the Olympics. The city has in fact participated in every summer games event since 1952, except for the boycotted 1980 Moscow games, and forms part of that group of small representative contingents demonstrating to the world that sports competition and the Olympics are not just about the megalith teams. As such, there isn’t social pressure or expectation that medals will be won. Winning is a bonus.

Five Summer Olympics have occurred since the handover of Hong Kong back to China in 1997. By and large, the 2008 Beijing Olympics was one of the most unifying events for Hong Kong as a territory of China. Fireworks displays in Victoria Harbor ushered in the event, and Hong Kong was part of the Olympic Torch Relay, as well as a key location for equestrian events. Despite Hong Kong having its own team, Chinese pride was on show leading up to the opening ceremony. The distinctive red Chinese flag was not an uncommon sight around the streets of Hong Kong, and many local students vocally and proudly declared their support for Team China.

The Hong Kong media archives of the time show features not of Hong Kong athletes, but of Chinese ones such as Liu Xiang, the Olympic record holder for 110 meter hurdles, Olympic diver Guo Jingjing, and women’s volleyball player Zhao Ruirui. The lead up to the 2008 games was not without its own drama, though. Steven Spielberg controversially withdrew as creative consultant to the games over China’s support of the Darfur genocide and was swiftly supported by other notable Hollywood celebrities. There were also the frequent protests around the issue of Tibet, with many news outlets reporting on the shuttering of any demonstrations in Hong Kong. Local Chinese government corruption was also blamed for the scale of destruction arising from the Sichuan earthquake in the spring of 2008, which left close to 70,000 dead and almost 20,000 missing.

Still, two views of the Beijing games were widely held at the time. The first was that it would be a celebration of China’s emergence on the global arena after 30 years of economic reforms. Sporting achievements have long been linked to the setting of the national mood, and the 2008 games allowed an emerging China to showcase not only its athletic prowess but also its administrative and logistical efficacy as well. The second view was that the 2008 Olympics, with the official slogan “one world, one dream,” would act as a catalyst of political change within China. Then president of China, Hu Jintao, who was often described as low-key and corporate, and his government wanted to project an image of openness, progress, and harmony to the outside world. The people of Hong Kong were ready and waiting to receive the benefits that a modern China -- one that would look a lot like Hong Kong -- could provide.

Fast forward eight years to 2016, to an economically powerful, but increasingly belligerent China with a new leader who draws comparisons with Chairman Mao himself. China today still wants to convey an image of progress, but is also proud of outward displays of power and military might, while unashamedly suppressing dissent. Driven by its expansion into the South China Sea, China has been the center of an international arbitration ruling that effectively criticized China’s infringements on its neighbors’ maritime territories. The official Chinese government responses have been outrage and indignation, and even purposeful indifference to the international court ruling. The backlash from Chinese citizens has been equally vocal; achieving global attention with the aid of social media, they have largely echoed and amplified official government responses, to the point of arrogant self-entitlement.

Meanwhile, Hong Kong has fallen from its perch as the sole financial powerhouse in the region, a position long held together by the city’s rule of law, transparency, and access to both Chinese and international markets. It has seen the slow but steady deterioration of its financial edge, partly as a result of selfish, individual political aspirations, but significantly due to perceived meddling by the Chinese authorities. This in itself has led to a messy political environment, with increasing calls for self-determination and a city much less convinced that it will ever be a recipient of China’s blessings.

The views of the local population have also changed considerably. Without the hype of being part of a host nation, and perhaps as a reflection of the wider political environment, Hong Kong’s dominant media outlets, including traditionally pro-Beijing outlets, have changed tack in their reporting in 2016. This time around, there are no more features of Chinese athletes, no more images of people waving Chinese flags in the streets of Hong Kong. Rather, the focus has been distinctly on Hong Kong’s own homegrown athletes, and a muted enthusiasm for any athlete with Chinese names, not restricted to those from the mainland.

During the Rio games, China has been typecast as having a “victim mentality.” Nowhere was this more evident than when Australian swimmer Mack Horton publicly denounced China’s Sun Yang as a convicted and temporarily banned “drug cheat” at a press conference, after beating Sun in the 400 meter freestyle final. The fact that Sun sat next to Horton during the press conference made the Chinese feel all the more humiliated. Chinese culture is famous for the need for courtesy and non-confrontation in an effort to save face, and during this press conference, none was offered to Sun, or China. The Chinese Swimming Association called for an apology for the hurt feelings caused by Horton’s remarks, which was swiftly rejected by Swimming Australia. Chinese social media exploded with even more indignation. Horton’s social media platforms were flooded by abuse from Chinese internet users and, in a rambling piece, China Daily criticized Australian media for recklessly spreading “rude speech,” called out Australia as a country on the fringes of civilization with “abnormal and aberrant” morals, and concluded by asking the nation to take the moral high ground.

Instead of steadfastly defending their national representative, Hong Kong netizens responded in support of the Australian’s comments. The support for Australia evolved into outright disgust toward Sun when days later, with an arrogance usually associated with American rappers, he proclaimed to the world: “In 1500 meters, I am king. I am the new world.” He went on to win the 200 m freestyle event, but did not make the 1500 m final.

It would be easy to conclude that Hong Kongers have an issue with the Chinese Olympic team. This would not be an unfair assumption given the political upheavals the city has experienced in the past few years. It would be an easy extension of the frustrations arising from a wider dissatisfaction with China’s political maneuvering. However, another Chinese swimmer, Fu Yuanhui, has been embraced by the Hong Kong public for her affable personality, honest post-race interviews, and humility. In both Chinese and English language media, Fu has been called “adorably awkward” and “cute,” and has even been used as an example of how China can relax more when questioned about its performance. Perhaps it is not China that Hong Kongers have an issue with. The people of Hong Kong seemingly have no time for the arrogant antics of Sun Yang, or arrogance in general.

Malaysia’s Lee Chong Wei went on to win that semi-final badminton match. There wasn’t a great deal of disappointment amongst the crowd in that Hong Kong cha-chaan-teng that night, though. It is perhaps due to the fact that both players are ethnic Chinese that the table-side commentary was neutral and almost strictly reserved for technically brilliant points -- praise going to the better play regardless of which side got the advantage. There was one big, noticeable, heartfelt cheer though. It occurred after the match as the two longtime badminton rivals went to shake hands, spontaneously deciding to exchange their national match shirts and embracing one another in a genuine show of sportsmanship, both clearly respecting the other. Applause enveloped the restaurant. The thing that Hong Kongers most appreciate it seems, is the Olympic spirit of effort, struggle, refusal to give up, and ultimately, humility.