The East Asian Olympiads, 1934–2008 Building Bodies and Nations in Japan, Korea, and China

THE EAST ASIAN OLYMPIADS, 1934–2008 BUILDING BODIES AND NATIONS IN JAPAN, KOREA, AND CHINA

Edited by

WILLIAM M. TSUTSUI Southern Methodist University and MICHAEL BASKETT University of Kansas This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

The East Asian Olympiads, 1934–2008 : building bodies and nations in Japan, Korea, and China / edited by Michael Baskett and William M. Tsutsui. p. cm. Includes index. ISBN 978-90-04-21221-3 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Olympics—Participation, East Asian—History. 2. Olympic athletes—Asia, East. 3. Sports and state—Asia, East. 4. Sports—Social aspects—Asia, East. 5. East Asia—Social life and customs. I. Baskett, Michael. II. Tsutsui, William M.

GV721.4.A75E37 2011 796.48095--dc23 2011021899

ISBN 978 90 04 21221 3

Copyright 2011 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhof Publishers and VSP.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher.

Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. Contents

Acknowledgements vii List of Contributors ix

Introduction 1 WILLIAM M. TSUTSUI 1. Athletics as Politics: Japan, the Phillipines, and the Far Eastern Olympics of 1934 23 GRANT K. GOODMAN 2. Going for the Gold: Health and Sports in Japan’s Quest for Modernity 34 BARAK KUSHNER 3. When Athletes Are Diplomats: Competing for World Opinion at the Tokyo Olympiads 49 JESSAMYN R. ABEL 4. Public Service/Public Relations: The Mobilization of the Self-Defense Force for the Tokyo Olympic Games 63 AARON SKABELUND 5. Foreign and Domestic Bodies: Sexual Anxieties and Desires at the Tokyo Olympics 77 PAUL DROUBIE 6. Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles, and Hegemonic Legacies: Retrospective Tales of Seoul’s Olympic Regime 87 JAMES P. THOMAS 7. Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics: “3S” as Urban Body Politics 106 LISA KIM DAVIS 8. “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?” The National Body, National Anxiety, and the Olympics in China 120 ANDREW MORRIS 9. The Olympic Games and China’s Search for Internationalization 137 XU GUOQI vi Contents

10. Uneven Political Reform and Development in the Shadow of the Beijing Olympic Games 150 JOHN JAMES KENNEDY 11. S(up)porting Roles: East Asian Women and the Olympic Games 170 ROBIN KIETLINSKI 12. Sports Mega-Events and the Shaping of Urban Modernity in East Asia 183 JOHN HORNE

Index 199 Acknowledgements

ll but one of the pieces collected in this volume were originally Apresented at the symposium “Olympian Desires: Building Bod- ies and Nations in East Asia,” held April 10–12, 2008 in Lawrence, Kansas. This international event, held just four months prior to the opening of the Beijing Olympic Games, was sponsored by the Uni- versity of Kansas (KU) Center for East Asian Studies with generous ﬁ nancial support from the KU College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, the Hall Center for the Humanities, the Confucius Institute at the University of Kansas, and the Kansas Consortium for Teaching About Asia. The conference would have been impossible without the tireless work of the staff of the Center for East Asian Studies: Jun Fu, Randi Hacker, Leslie von Holten, then associate director Megan Greene, and then acting director Marsha Hauﬂ er. Several graduate students in East Asian studies also contributed substantially: Mindy Varner, Joshua Saied, J.D. Parker, and Dusty Clark. Among the dozens of other people who helped make the conference a success and this volume possible, our thanks go out to Sheree Willis and Nancy Hope at the Confucius Institute as well as Victor Bailey and Jeanie Wulfkuhle at the Hall Center. We are particularly grateful to the other scholars—Lisa Delpy Neirotti, Jennifer Hubbert, and many of our KU colleagues—who participated in the conference and who enriched our discussions as well as the quality of the essays published here. The Clements Department of History at Southern Methodist University provided critical funding to acquire permissions for illustrations. Paul Norbury and the staff at Global Oriental were models of good judgment, patience, and enthusiasm. An earlier version of Grant Goodman’s contribution to this volume appeared as “Athletics as Politics: Japan, the Philippines, and the Far Eastern Olympics of 1934” in Ajia no dento¯ to kindaika (Tokyo: Waseda Daigaku Shakai Kagaku Kenkyu¯ jo, 1990). An earlier version of Andrew Morris’s chapter “‘Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?’ The National Body, National Anxiety, and the Olympics in China” was published as “‘How Could Anyone Respect Us?’ A Cen- tury of Olympic Consciousness and National Anxiety in China” in The Brown Journal of World Affairs 14:2 (Spring/Summer 2008), pp. 25–39.

List of Contributors

Jessamyn Abel is a historian of modern Japan at Pennsylvania State University. Her essays have appeared in JAPANimals: History and Culture in Japan’s Animal Life (University of Michigan, 2005) and Tumultuous Decade: Japan’s Challenge to the International System, 1931–41 (Univer- sity of Toronto Press, forthcoming). Her current research focuses on the changing meanings of internationalism in transwar Japan and the role of cultural exchange and production in international relations on both the regional and global levels. She is completing a book manuscript entitled “Japanese Internationalisms in War and Peace, 1933–1964.” Michael Baskett received his doctoral degree from the University of California at Los Angeles and is now an associate professor of fi lm studies in the Department of Film and Media Studies at the Univer- sity of Kansas where he teaches courses in Japanese fi lm, East Asian fi lm and media, transnational and diasporic cinemas, and fi lm history. He is the author of The Attractive Empire: Transnational Film Culture in Imperial Japan (University of Hawai’i Press, 2008) and the fi lm/DVD review editor for The Moving Image (published by the University of Min- nesota Press). Baskett is currently working on a book manuscript which extends his research into the historical roots of transnational fi lm fl ows in Asia through an examination of the politics of the Japanese fi lm industry’s interregional fi lm exchange in Asia during the Cold War. Lisa Kim Davis is a core faculty affi liate of the Center for Korean Studies and a member of the Department of Geography at the University of California, Los Angeles. She holds degrees from Yale and Johns Hop- kins Universities. Her research in human geography focuses on urban inequality, spatial patterns of residence, and use of urban space in Asia and the West. Professor Davis’s current projects address affordable housing, community organizations, commoner and feminist perspectives on the built environment, artist-led urban initiatives, and the historical geography of residential neighborhoods. Her past research has dealt with the HIV/AIDS epidemic, as well as the effect of arts education on city neighborhoods in the United States. She teaches urban and feminist geography, Asian studies, and comparative urban studies. Paul Droubie is an assistant professor in the History Department at Manhattan College and specializes in modern Japanese history. His research interests include national identity, popular culture, x List of Contributors

and memory. He is currently revising his dissertation, “Playing the Nation: 1964 Tokyo Summer Olympics and Japanese Identity,” for publication. Grant K. Goodman (B.A. Princeton University, M.A. and Ph.D. University of Michigan) is professor emeritus of history at the University of Kansas. He is a specialist both in Tokugawa intellectual history and in Japan’s cultural relations with South and Southeast Asia since the Meiji Period, as well as in Philippine history. He has written, edited or co-edited sixteen books and published over seventy articles. He has been a visiting professor at Sophia University (Japan) three times, at the University of Hong Kong three times, at the University of the Philippines twice, at the University College of Dublin (Ireland), at Leicester University (United Kingdom), at the University of Warsaw (Poland), at Griffi th University (Australia), at the University of Tubingen (Germany), at Charles University (Czech Republic), and at Fukuoka University (Japan). He has also been a fellow of the Netherlands Insti- tute of Advanced Study in the Humanities and Social Sciences, a Visit- ing Professor at the International Research Center for Japanese Studies in Kyoto, Japan, and a Senior Fellow of the International Institute for Asian Studies in the Netherlands. John Horne is professor of sport and sociology in the School of Sport, Tourism and The Outdoors, at the University of Central Lancashire, where he is Director of the International Research Institute for Sport Studies (IRISS). He is currently Managing Editor in Chief of the journal Leisure Studies and a member of the editorial boards of the International Review for the Sociology of Sport and Sport in Society. His publications include numerous articles in peer-reviewed journals and book chapters, and as author, Sport in Consumer Culture (Palgrave Macmillan, 2006); co-author, Understanding Sport (Routledge, 1999); and co-editor, Sports Mega-Events (Wiley-Blackwell, 2006), Football Goes East: Business, Culture and the People’s Game in China, Japan and Korea (Routledge, 2004), Japan, Korea and the 2002 World Cup (Routledge, 2002) and Sport, Leisure and Social Relations (Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1987). John James Kennedy is an associate professor in the Department of Political Science at the University of Kansas. His research focuses on rural social and political development including village elections, tax reform, and rural education. He frequently returns to China to conduct fi eldwork and collaborate with Chinese colleagues and friends at Northwest University, Xian, Shaanxi province. He teaches classes on contemporary China and has published several book chapters as well as articles in journals such as Asian Survey, The China Quarterly, Journal of Chinese Political Science, Journal of Contemporary China, and Political Studies. Robin Kietlinski is currently a Research Scholar at the Weather- head East Asian Institute at Columbia University and an adjunct assistant professor in the History Department at Baruch College of the City University of New York. She holds a Ph.D. in East Asian Languages and Civilizations from the University of Pennsylvania. Her research and List of Contributors xi teaching interests are on the socio-cultural history of modern Japan. Dr. Kietlinski’s forthcoming book, Japanese Women and Sport: Beyond Baseball and Sumo (Bloomsbury Academic Press, 2011), traces the history of Japanese women’s participation in sport, while exploring related issues of gender, modernity, and globalization in modern Japan. Barak Kushner teaches modern Japanese history at the Univer- sity of Cambridge. His fi rst book, The Thought War: Japanese Imperial Propaganda (University of Hawai’i Press, 2005), delved into the history of wartime Japanese efforts to psychologically mobilize the empire. He recently fi nished an Abe Fellowship during which he researched material for his second book, provisionally titled “Dealing with the Devil: Analyzing Postwar Chinese Trials of Japanese War Criminals.” Kushner’s academic articles on wartime propaganda, Sino-Japan relations, and humor have appeared in Diplomatic History, The International History Review, Journal of Popular Culture, the Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television, Japanese Studies, and the Journal of Contemporary History. He also has several book chapters in print: a postwar media history of Godzilla, a chapter on children’s wartime propaganda in Japanese media, and a piece analyzing the Chinese infl uence on Taisho¯ notions of modern cuisine in Japan. Andrew Morris is professor and chair of the History Department at Cal Poly (California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo). He is the author of Marrow of the Nation: A History of Sport and Physical Culture in Republican China (University of California Press, 2004) and Colonial Project, National Game: A History of Baseball in Taiwan (Uni- versity of California Press, 2010), and co-editor (with David K. Jordan and Marc L. Moskowitz) of The Minor Arts of Daily Life: Popular Culture in Taiwan (University of Hawai’i Press, 2004). He has also published sixteen journal articles and book chapters on modern Taiwanese and Chinese history and popular culture. Aaron Skabelund is an assistant professor of history at Brigham Young University. He is the author of Empire of Dogs: Japan and the Making of the Modern Imperial World (Cornell University Press, forthcoming), Inu no teikoku: Bakumatsu Nippon kara gendai made (Iwanami Shoten, 2009), and “Fascism’s Furry Friends: Dogs, National Identity, and Purity of Blood in 1930s Japan” in The Culture of Japanese Fascism (Duke University Press, 2009). He is working on a book manuscript on the social and cultural history of the post-World War II Japanese military, commonly known as the Self-Defense Force. James P. Thomas teaches Korean studies in the Department of East Asian Studies at McGill University. He has also taught at Dartmouth College, Sogang University, the University of Texas–Austin, and the University of Rochester, where he earned his Ph.D. in social anthropology. His research focuses on recent developments in material and visual culture and their impact on Korean society. He is writing a book, provisionally entitled “Aesthetic Regimes and Hegemonic Develop- ment: Lessons from South Korea,” which examines how visual forces (such as architecture, advertising, and television) stigmatize, negate, xii List of Contributors and transfi gure social groups and individuals who do not measure up to the latest currents of fashion and aesthetic sensibility. William M. Tsutsui is professor of history and dean of Dedman College of Humanities and Sciences at Southern Methodist University. A specialist in the business, economic, and cultural history of twentieth- century Japan, he is the author of Banking Policy in Japan: American Efforts at Reform During the Occupation (Routledge, 1988), Manufactur- ing Ideology: Scientifi c Management in Twentieth-Century Japan (Princeton University Press, 1998), Godzilla on My Mind: Fifty Years of the King of Monsters (Palgrave, 2004), and Japanese Popular Culture and Globalization (Association for Asian Studies, 2010). He is the editor of Banking in Japan (Routledge, 1999), A Companion to Japanese History (Blackwell, 2006), and (with Michiko Ito) In Godzilla’s Footsteps: Japanese Pop Culture Icons on the Global Stage (Palgrave, 2006). He received the 1997 Newcomen Society Award for Excellence in Business History Research and Writing, the 2000 John Whitney Hall Prize (for best book on Japan or Korea published in 1998) of the Association for Asian Studies, and the 2005 William Rockhill Nelson Award for non-fi ction. Xu Guoqi received his Ph.D. in History from Harvard University. He was the fi rst holder of the Wen Chao Chen Chair in History and East Asian Affairs at Kalamazoo College from 1999 to 2009. During 2008– 2009 he was a fellow at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study at Harvard University. In summer 2009 he joined the Department of His- tory at the University of Hong Kong and teaches modern Chinese and international history. Professor Xu’s most recent publications include China and the Great War (Cambridge University Press, 2005; Chinese edition, 2008), Olympic Dreams: China and Sports, 1895–2008 (Harvard University Press, 2008), and Strangers on the Western Front: Chinese Workers in the Great War (Harvard University Press, 2011). He is currently writing a book provisionally entitled “Chinese and Americans: A Cultural and International History,” under contract to Harvard Uni- versity Press. His non-English writings include Meiguo waijiao zhengce shi (History of American Foreign Relations, 1776–1989) (co-author, Bei- jing: People’s Press, 1991, in Chinese) and Wenming de jiaorong: di yi ci shijie dazhan qijian de za fa huagong (Fusions of Civilizations: Chinese Laborers and the First World War) (Beijing: Inter-Continental Press, 2007, in both Chinese and French). Professor Xu’s writings have also appeared in places such as the New York Times and Washington Post. In 2009 both the Society of International Olympic Historians and Chinese Historians of the United States recognized his Olympic Dreams as the best book of the year. Introduction

William M. Tsutsui

he Olympic Games have been described as the “most consistently Tcompelling cultural phenomena of modern times.”1 As vast “mega-events” and global media spectacles, the Olympics have long been about more than the athletic competitions, amateur values, and ideals of international understanding that animated Pierre de Coubertin and the founding of the modern Olympic Movement. Now woven into complex webs of international geopolitics, economic development, and nation (as well as image) building, the Olympics are heavily freighted with meanings, from the dreams and dramas of individual athletes to national aspirations and civic pride, cultural imperialism and postcolonial resistance, gender disparities and racial inequities, and a whole host of other ambitions and anxieties played out in medal counts, opening ceremonies, and architectural statements. As International Olympic Committee (IOC) member Dick Pound has put it, the Games “have become a microcosm of the world itself, expressing its tensions in an intellectually and emotionally manageable theater.”2 Although host cities and states would like to control the script of the Olympics, managing the fl ood of messages and media images that reach their own people and the larger world, Olympiads are inevitably sites of contested meanings. Groups—from the IOC to commercial sponsors to protesters on the streets—seek to inscribe their own narratives on the events, creating Games that are richly “polyphonic, multivoiced, many themed.” As Monroe Price has observed, there is “an inherent instability about great events that makes them subject to capture in surprising and unanticipated ways.”3 Thus, student rioters were thrust into the Olympic spotlight in Mexico City in 1968 (and again twenty years later in Seoul), Palestinian terrorists hijacked the Munich Olympics in 1972, and China’s attempts to orchestrate a tri- umphal “coming out party” in 2008 were hounded by global activists, who branded Beijing the “Genocide Olympics” or the “Blood Olym- pics” (for China’s record of inaction in Darfur), the “Smoglympics” (for China’s poor environmental record), the “Saffron Olympics” (for Chi- nese support of the repressive military regime in Burma), the “Games 2 The East Asian Olympiads of Shame” (for China’s policy toward Tibet), and the “Beer Olympics” (for the commercialism of corporate sponsorships).4 Daniel Dayan has persuasively argued that the Olympic Games should be seen not “as messages but as media”: “They are used as blank slates, as empty stages available for all sorts of new dramaturgies besides their own. The Olympics thus become palimpsests, scrolls that have been written upon, scraped almost clean, and written upon again.”5 The Olympics have proven contentious not just because of their worldwide popularity, their enormous economic impact, or their prestige and visibility, but also because of the profoundly contradictory nature of the Games and the Olympic Movement itself. Paradoxes abound in modern Olympism: the Olympics are an uneasy fusion of internationalist idealism and nationalistic partisanship, evoking both high-minded visions of global concord and the passions of patriotic chauvinism. The Olympics celebrate the values of amateurism, but in an environment of rampant commercialism and non-stop marketing; they promise an apolitical venue for sporting excellence, but the athletes have proven political pawns, and the Games sprawling politicized stages, from Hitler’s 1936 Berlin Olympiad to the tit-for-tat boycotts of the Cold War. The IOC Charter declares that the Movement is “universal” and “covers the fi ve continents”6 yet the Olympics were invented in Europe and continue to be dominated—organizationally, in the locations of the Games, in the offi cial sports endorsed for competition—by European and North American interests. And, on a more pedestrian level, the Games themselves, while seldom perhaps living up to the drama and exhilaration of the breathless media hype, have always turned out to be remarkably absorbing and compelling to the spectators of the world. The Japanese novelist Murakami Haruki, who kept a diary of the 2000 Sydney Olympics, confi ded that “Some time ago I came across a sentence in an American novel where the author wrote, ‘It’s as boring as the Olympics.’ I remember reading that line and thinking that I agreed completely. That’s right, the Olympics are mostly a bore. . . .” Nevertheless, Murakami conceded, “A kind of pure emotion is born from the very heart of the endless continuum of boredom [induced by the Olympics]; something arises from within the stupor. I must make a confession. At these Games numerous hap- penings have pierced me through to the core.”7 The Olympics are now the subject of a rich and interdisciplinary scholarly literature. Although Eurocentric perspectives have predom- inated in this research, work on the Games in East Asia—Tokyo and Sapporo (planned for 1940), Tokyo (1964), Sapporo (1972), Seoul (1988), Nagano (1998), and Beijing (2008)—has been increasing, especially in the media-saturated run-up to China’s fi rst Olym- pics.8 Little scholarship has been published, however, on the East Asian Olympiads as a group, investigating the shared experiences and legacies of hosting the Games in Japan, South Korea, and the People’s Republic of China. How did the Olympics in Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing distinctively shape patriotic sentiments and yardsticks Introduction 3 of social progress, ideals of individual health and national strength, diplomatic posturing and democratic dreams? How were they used and managed by states, interest groups, commercial concerns, and the media? What are the commonalities of the East Asian encounter with the Games, and how have the Olympic experiences of Japan, Korea, and China diverged? Looking collectively at the only Olym- pics to be held outside the Western world promises to contribute not just to the study of the Olympic Movement and the regional history of East Asia, but also to the exploration of larger political, cultural, social, and economic themes, such as colonialism and decolonization, modernization and nationalism, urbanization and environmental change, the cultural politics of gender, and the varied technologies of state building. The twelve essays in this collection explore, from the diverse disciplinary perspectives of anthropology, geography, history, political science, and sports studies, the Olympic Games in East Asia and the participation of Asian athletes and states in international sporting competitions in the twentieth and twenty-fi rst centuries. The contributors here focus on many of the elements that distinguish the East Asian Olympiads in the history of the Olympic Movement and that make the Games held in Asia such touchstone events in the modern histories of Japan, Korea, and China. These essays underscore the continuity of the East Asian Olympic experience with the history of the broader global Movement, detailing how the Asian Olympics, like those staged in the West, have been heavy with meanings, “polyphonic,” and frequently paradoxical. But the essays also demonstrate how the Games in East Asia (and especially the high profi le Summer Games of 1964, 1988, and 2008) have proven distinctive in the political, social, and cultural signifi cance they acquired, in the way they were mobilized and manipulated by hosting peoples, cities, and states, and in their larger impacts, environmental, ideological, and symbolic. This collection suggests that the Olympic Games in East Asia, as sprawling exercises in building bodies and nations, have been important elements in the shaping of a modern East Asian identity in a world—and a global sporting culture—still dominated by the West.

* * * * *

What makes the East Asian Olympiads different? What similarities and continuities connect them, and how do they stand apart, as a group, from the Olympics of Europe, North America, and Australia? Although the following list is not exhaustive, eight themes and elements seem to characterize the Olympics in East Asia, linking the experiences of Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing (and, to a lesser extent, the Asian Winter Games as well9) and distinguishing the patterns of Japanese, Korean, and Chinese participation in the modern Olympic Games. 4 The East Asian Olympiads

OLYMPIC OUTSIDERS East Asian nations were relative latecomers to the Olympic Movement and they continue, in the words of sports historian Allen Guttmann, “to play ancillary roles on the Olympic stage.”10 Japan sent its fi rst team (of two track athletes) to Stockholm in 1912, although a group of Ainu from Hokkaido¯ participated in the “Anthropology Days” at the St. Louis Games of 190411; China’s fi rst Olympic athlete appeared in Los Angeles in 1932 as “the lone representative of four hundred million people”12; and South Korea was fi rst represented in 1948 at the London Olym- piad. Japan’s fi rst gold medal only came in 1928 (and its fi rst medal in the Winter Games in 1956), Korea’s fi rst gold was in 1976 (although ethnic Koreans competing under the Japanese fl ag had won medals in Berlin in 1936), and the People’s Republic of China’s in 1984. In fact, in the Olympics held prior to World War II, only three Asian nations (Japan, India, and the Philippines) brought home any Olympic medals at all. Even in the twenty-fi rst century, Western dominance of the medal counts continues: three-quarters of the medals at Sydney and Athens, and almost two-thirds at Beijing in 2008, were won by competitors from Europe, North America, and Oceania. And although fi ve Olympic Games have been awarded to and held in East Asian nations, that is still only ten percent of the total since the establishment of the modern Olympics in 1896. The Olympics, Guttmann has noted, “began as a European phenomenon and it has always been necessary for non-Western peoples to participate in the Games on Western terms.”13 The institutional marginalization of Asia in the IOC is of long standing: Kano ¯ Jigoro ¯, the Japanese inventor of ju¯ do ¯, was the fi rst Asian representative on the IOC in 1909 and by 1945, just eight Asians (fourteen percent of the total membership) sat on the Committee. Remarkably, even more than half a century later, the proportion of Asians on the IOC was little changed (fi fteen percent in 2006) while Europeans (with 48 of the 114 members) continued to dominate numerically.14 The Western mark on Olympic sports has been even more dramatic. To date, only two sports of non- Western origin have been recognized by the IOC for medal competition: ju¯ do ¯ and taekwondo. Wushu, a form of Chinese martial arts, has failed to break into the Olympic program, despite strong lobbying from China, reportedly because of its difference from Western sporting conventions.15 In short, the nations of East Asia, despite their global economic and political clout, have been and continue to be outsiders in the Olympic Movement, a fact which has shaped their experience of international athletic competition over the past century.

EFFACING THE PAST The East Asian Olympics offered the host nations much sought- after opportunities to erase old images of their countries in the global imagination, overcome lingering stereotypes, and purge past Introduction 5

humiliations. In the preparations for the (ultimately aborted) 1940 Olympiad, for example, Tokyo mayor Nagata Hidejiro¯ declared that “Foreigners do not understand Japan. . . . It is hard to get them to understand the true Japan as a land beyond Mount Fuji and geishas.”16 The Games’ organizers were eager to use the event to replace quaint, traditional stereotypes of Japan with the impression of Tokyo as the thriving, up-to-date capital of a modern, growing empire. Similar goals motivated the planners for the 1964 Olympics: the Japanese government, the New York Times explained at the time, “is getting tired of its image abroad as a nation of rickshas, snow-capped Mount Fuji, and geisha girls.”17 Even more importantly, however, the state believed that the Olympiad could secure the vision of a new, peaceful, prosperous, and technologically advanced Japan in the eyes of the world (and of the Japanese people), overcoming tenacious assumptions of Japan’s social and cultural backwardness, memories of a defeated and devas- tated nation, and the stain of having waged war with the Western powers and its Asian neighbors. The 1964 Olympics, one contemporary observer noted, “symbolize for the Japanese the ﬁ nal absolution, the total welcome back into the family of nations.”18 In South Korea, the Olympics also offered a kind of redemption from a painful history of colonial occupation, poverty, war, and the division of the peninsula, as well as a distraction from a more recent past of military dictatorship and student protest. According to Park Seh-Jik, president of the Seoul Olympic Organizing Committee:

The Games changed the Korean people’s view of the world and the world’s view of Korea. The world’s view of Korea had been mostly formed by the dark days of war-torn Korea. The Seoul Olympics and the 9,000 hours of TV coverage that came with it wiped the image away. Television showed a pearl of a city—modern, active, prosperous, and peaceful. Since the Seoul Olympics the Korean people have been treated with more respect and so have Korean-made products.19

In China too, the hosting of the Olympics brought the prospect of overcoming the past and defi ning a positive new image for the future. For many Chinese, the Beijing Games seemed to offer a chance to cast off China’s reputation as the “sick man of Asia” and the taint of more than a century and a half of domination by the West and Japan. The 2008 Olympiad, Dong Jinxia and J.A. Mangan wrote, aspired to “restore China’s national greatness by helping to erase the old memory of a humiliated and subordinated people and replacing it with a new memory, the benefi cent gift of the games, of a confi dent, powerful, and respected nation.”20 The organizers in Beijing also struggled to overturn global perceptions of China as a place of Communist regi- mentation and authoritarian government: the spectacle of the Games, it was hoped, would sweep away “dated stereotypes such as scenes of the demonstrators on Tiananmen Square in 1989 including pictures of 6 The East Asian Olympiads

‘tank man,’ the individual who stood down a tank in Beijing in 1989, and ubiquitous images of Mao Zedong.”21 Although all recent Olympic hosts have used the Games for shameless self-promotion and building the “brands” of their cities and nations, the investment in the Summer Olympics as tools of national redeﬁ nition—one might even say liberation from the burdens of stereotyping and history—was unusually intense in Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing. Less certain is whether the Olympic hosts of East Asia have been successful in their efforts at global image management: have gleaming stadiums, dazzling ceremonies, and sporting dramas effectively distanced Japan from geishas and World War II, Seoul from its conﬂ ict-ravaged past, or Beijing from a history of humiliation and reminders of a repressive regime?

THE SHADOWS OF WAR AND EMPIRE The Olympiads of East Asia have all been haunted by war and empire, both past and present. Beyond the persistent cultural imperialism of the Western-dominated Olympic Movement, the Games in East Asia have been intertwined with World War II and the Cold War and with the practices and legacies of empire-building, Japanese as well as Western. The 1940 Olympics were, of course, inseparable from Japan’s imperial project and the mounting tensions and ambitions that would lead to war in the Pacifi c. The Games were conceived not just to impress the Western powers, but to mobilize the Japanese people ideologically in the pursuit of empire; they subsequently had to be forfeited when the pressing demands of expansionism made international sporting events unseemly and increasingly unaffordable.22 In 1964, when Japan’s human and material resources were again being mobilized to stage the Olympics, many observers were reminded, often rather uncomfortably, of the nation’s recent experience of war. “Seeing the major construction going on day and night,” the literary critic Eto ¯ Jun remarked during the hustle and bustle before the Tokyo Games, “I felt the Japanese were fi ghting a war.”23 Indeed, the 1964 and 1988 Olympics were wartime events of a sort, as the Cold War raged during and in the athletic competitions in Tokyo and Seoul. The Tokyo Games shared the headlines in October 1964 with Cold War drama—China’s fi rst nuclear tests and the fall of Nikita Khrushchev in Moscow—and threats of North Korean disruption and Eastern Bloc boycotts dogged the Olympiad in Seoul. The Olympics also became enormous promotions for the superiority of the “free world”: the successful staging of the Games in Japan and South Korea offered persuasive evidence of the ascendance of the capitalist model and democratic values in Asia.24 Echoes of war and empire also resonated through the symbolically charged Olympic opening ceremonies in Tokyo and Seoul. In 1964, the Olympic fl ame was lit by Sakai Yoshinori, later christened “atom boy” (genbakkuko) in the media as he had been born close to Hiroshima on the very day of the atomic bombing. Described by the novelist Mishima Introduction 7

Figure 1 On the left, Sohn Kee-chung, competing as Son Kitei under the Japanese ﬂ ag, runs in the marathon at the Berlin Olympics in 1936. On the right, Sohn carries the Olympic torch at the opening ceremony of the Seoul Games in 1988. (Photographs © CORR/AP/ Getty Images (left) and Heinz Kluetmeier/Sports Illustrated/Getty Images (right).)

Yukio as “the pure freshness of Japanese youth crystallized,” Sakai was a vigorous emblem of Japan’s recovery from war and defeat.25 As historian Yoshikuni Igarashi put it, “The juxtaposition between memories of loss and Sakai’s beautiful body simply served to dramatize the marvel of this recovery.”26 Some spectators, however, considered the nod to Hiroshima at the opening ceremony an exercise in “self pity” and merely another attempt by the Japanese to cast themselves as victims in World War II.27 In Seoul in 1988, the spotlight fell on Sohn Kee-chung, who carried the torch into Olympic Stadium. Sohn, competing under his Japanized name Son Kitei, won the gold medal in the marathon in 1936, when Korea was a Japanese colony. Sohn’s appearance provided a cathartic moment to start the Seoul Games; as one commentator wrote, “the cheers for Sohn, carried around the world on live television, symbolized for many Koreans their ﬁ nal release from the bitterness and humiliation of colonization.”28 Although the shadows of empire were not such an obvious presence at the opening ceremony two decades later in Beijing, China’s eagerness to cast off a history of imperial subordination and denigration as the “sick man of Asia” did suffuse the 2008 Olympics. Olympic competitions and war have always been linked: George Orwell famously declared that sport “is bound up with hatred, jeal- ousy, boastfulness, disregard of all rules and sadistic pleasure in 8 The East Asian Olympiads

Figure 2 A rather forlorn banner promoting Tokyo’s bid for the 2016 Olympics hangs from a pedestrian bridge in August 2009. In the background is the Yoyogi National Gymna- sium, originally designed by Tange Kenzo¯ for the 1964 Tokyo Games. (Photograph by William M. Tsutsui.)

witnessing violence; in other words it is war minus the shooting.”29 Yet few of the Games have been so preoccupied with the immediate demands and nagging memories of war and empire as the Olympiads of East Asia.

UNEASY NATIONALISMS A surge in nationalistic sentiments in the host country before, during, and after an Olympiad is hardly unusual. This seems to have been the case in Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing, where the spectacle of the Games and success in the medal counts fueled popular patriotism. As many commentators have observed, however, swelling national pride in Olympic Japan, South Korea, and China was also accompanied by an acute sense of anxiety, a sense of self-doubt—some would even say self-loathing— driven by a history of marginalization in a world sporting culture and a global political order long (and still) dominated by the West. The 1964 Olympics were an opportunity for the Japanese state to rebuild—very cautiously—a sense of nationalism after the excesses and traumas of the war years and defeat. The opening ceremony was a stage for gently rehabilitating some of the controversial symbols of Japanese nationhood: the hi no maru fl ag, the anthem Kimigayo, and, most nota- Introduction 9 bly, the Sho ¯wa emperor.30 The Games do seem to have rekindled some patriotic pride: as the historian James McClain has written, “many observers have discerned in the decades following the eighteenth Olympiad the emergence of economic nationalism, cultural chauvinism, and neo-nationalism.”31 Yet beneath the surface of the 1964 Olympics a profound uneasiness about measuring up in the eyes of the West seemed to haunt the Japanese hosts: “Beyond doubt,” one British journalist reported, “the Japanese cared about the Games, and cared desperately. For Tokyo, it was an anxious matter of saving face.”32 Even in Tokyo’s recent (and unsuccessful) bid for the 2016 Olympics, this combination of pride and insecurity was again apparent. “It’s Japan, so we can do it,” posters and banners around the city read. “The new Olympics!” (Nihon dakara, dekiru. Atarashii Orinpikku!). The 1988 Games spawned intense patriotic reveries in South Korea but also revealed what many foreign observers took to be an underlying national self-doubt. “Power, miracle, power, power! One cannot escape it: these are the expressions of a country that is either superbly confi - dent or racked by anxiety,” Ian Buruma concluded of Korea’s Olym- pic swagger. “No doubt the sense of victimhood, of being ignored or worse by other powers throughout history, has contributed to [Korea’s] modern zeal to gain recognition, to win gold medals, to beat the Japa- nese, and ultimately, who knows, even the Americans.”33 South Korea’s brittle nationalism was exposed most obviously in the uproar over a disputed Olympic boxing match and NBC’s television coverage of it. After bantamweight Byun Jong-il was declared the loser by points to a Bulgarian boxer, Korean fans and offi cials physically attacked the referee and Byun staged a 67-minute sit-in protest in the ring. Many Kore- ans took offense at the NBC reporting of the incident, seeing it as an attack on Korea’s national dignity. Overseas commentators, however, interpreted Korean hypersensitivity to be blustering compensation for a deep sense of national insecurity.34 The nationalist discourses surrounding the Beijing Games very much followed the patterns established in Tokyo and Seoul. The Olympics and the catastrophic earthquake in Sichuan that preceded them in May 2008 caused Chinese to rally round the fl ag. What one scholar called a “patriotic hunger for Olympic glory” intensifi ed as the Games approached and caused the government in Beijing to worry about outbreaks of violence were Chinese athletes to falter—or the nation’s most despised adversaries, the Japanese, to triumph—in the competition for medals.35 But many analysts sensed underlying weakness rather than new-found strength in China’s mounting nationalism. In the insistent and ubiquitous slogan “Jiayou zhongguo!” (Go China!) on t-shirts and posters, the anthropologist David Davies detected “the gnawing sense that ‘China’ might not be as unifi ed as it seemed,” with economic disparities and ethnic tensions on the rise at the start of the new millennium.36 Asserting that “an unstable consciousness of ancient glory and modern humiliation still haunts contemporary China’s self-image,” historian Julia Lovell saw in China’s 10 The East Asian Olympiads

Olympic experience the juxtaposition of “pride and insecurity,” “self-approbation and self-loathing”:

A sense of entitlement to Western-based international plaudits reveals both a conﬁ dent belief in China’s superiority and an anxious need for that belief to be afﬁ rmed by the West. . . . Insecurity about Chinese national identity and the obsession with a diseased Chinese culture have often produced their inverse: a nationalistic machismo, angrily sensitive to Western slights and affronts, that asserts China’s unique- ness and right to global acclaim.37

Thus in China, as in Japan and Korea, a tortured modern history and a persistent national compulsion to overcome it created a distinctive and uneasy Olympic nationalism.

DEFINING AN EAST ASIAN MODERNITY The historian Sandra Collins has argued that East Asian host cities and nations have used a “different cultural logic” in representing themselves to the world than Western Olympic hosts have.38 According to Collins:

While most Western Olympic host cities underscore their modernity and development to promote themselves as world-class cities, Asian host cities distinguish themselves in their deliberate evocation of their modern hybridity: the co-existence of modern development with ancient cultural traditions. Asian Olympic hosts display this hybridity as a syncretism of cutting edge modern technological industry anchored in the rich cultural histories and exotic civilizations of the East.39

Thus, Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing have presented themselves not just as shining examples of modernity, progress, and technological advancement, but also as the inheritors of time-honored (but vibrant) cultural patterns distinct from the heritage of Western civilization. This “cultural logic” has allowed the East Asian hosts to claim that their Games go beyond the usual Olympic goals of athletic competition, international engagement, and economic development to perform as agents of global cultural harmonization, bringing together the Western-infl ected trappings of international modernity with the distinctive traditions and values of Asian life. The aborted Tokyo Games of 1940 set the model of self-presentation for other Asian Olympic hosts. Japan’s capital was portrayed to the IOC and the world as a unique and harmonious blending of industrial progress and ancient traditions: the city’s bid document proclaimed that “Tokyo is a modern city, a clean city, a metropolis in Western fashion against the panorama of an age-old civilization.”40 The organizers of Introduction 11 the 1964 Games (not to mention the media) echoed these sentiments. Noma Seiroku, who was involved in the organization of Tokyo’s Olym- pics Arts Festival, wrote that “Present-day visitors to Japan are interested to fi nd that the old and the new, the traditional and the progressive, are active side by side, and are in good accord mutually in this country. This is because Japan has both a progressive mind, which urges her to learn from others, and self-esteem, which leads her to maintain her own [character].”41 The notion of Japan as a harmonious hybrid of East and West was refl ected in the new Olympic architecture of Tokyo as well: the Nippon Budo ¯kan and Tange Kenzo ¯’s National Gymnasium, in particular, were singled out as elegant fusions of modern technology and traditional aesthetics.42 Images of cultural hybridity also suffused the 1998 Games in Seoul. One promotional pamphlet declared that “The staging of the Games on the Asian continent will provide an opportunity for the East to welcome and understand the West and for the West to appreciate the culture, traditions, and values of the East. In that respect, the Seoul Olympics will represent a fusion and harmonizing of the world family.”43 Moreover, the opening ceremonies became a stage for showcasing South Korea as a thoroughly modern country with a rich history and a distinctive cultural heritage. The hosts in Beijing followed a similar script, though on a far more ambitious scale, for the opening of the 2008 Games. And although some Western China-watchers specu- lated that the Beijing Olympics would take a different approach to the world, the familiar maxims of inter-cultural harmonization were much in evidence in the run-up to 2008. “When the ‘Olympic fl ag’ waves over Beijing,” one Chinese publication promised, “Eastern and West- ern cultures will achieve their greatest fusion, revealing to the whole world the enchantment of Eastern culture.”44 The visions of modernity merging with Asian tradition conjured up for the Olympic Games in Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing went beyond mere tourist marketing. As Sandra Collins and other scholars, including fellow historians Noriko Aso and James McClain, have suggested, the East Asian Olympiads allowed the host nations and cities to craft identities that were modern but insistently not Western, to claim parity with the West economically, technologically, and socially but assert difference culturally. As Collins concluded, “By representing their experience of modernity as different in their respective Olympic games, Asian nations reveal much about the ambitions and anxieties of being an Asian host in the continuing Western Olympic hegemony.”45

TRAINING MODERN CITIZENS For Japan, South Korea, and China, the hosting of the Olympics did not just mean rigorous conditioning for athletes, vast projects of urban renewal, and new opportunities to remake their national reputations; the Games also led to anxiety-ridden efforts to train local populations in the social routines of global modernity. In a process that Victor Cha 12 The East Asian Olympiads has tagged “global standardization,”46 the people of Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing were subjected to elaborate campaigns disciplining them in the ways of modern, civilized life: hygiene, foodways, public manners, and even toilet etiquette. Showing extreme sensitivity to being branded backward or uncivilized by international visitors, the East Asian hosts all made the modernization of everyday life a major priority of their preparations for the Olympics. In the run-up to the 1964 Games, for example, a Tokyo Olympic Movement Promotion Council was formed to “beautify the metropolis, improve public, business, and traffi c morals, and enhance civic pride.”47 Tokyoites were subjected to a “Be Nice to Visitors” campaign and a “Beautifi cation of the Capital” movement. On January 10, 1964, over half a million residents were mobilized to sweep the streets of Tokyo; one major newspaper, meanwhile, enjoined readers to “defeat dust” and join in the creation of a “clean city.”48 Especially in the months just before the Games, the authorities stepped up efforts to crack down on crime and undesirable public behavior: juveniles were escorted out of entertainment districts, illegal posters were stripped off walls, panhandlers were forced out of downtown Tokyo, and urination in the streets was strenuously discouraged. And, to make Japan more accom- modating for foreign guests, longer beds were ordered for fi ve-star hotels.49 A quarter-century later in Seoul, the regulators of public morals were no less diligent. A Central Council for Pan-National Olympic Promotion worked to ensure that Koreans would behave as “modern and cultured people” during the Games: campaigns in kindness and cleanliness were started, foreign language learning encouraged, and, to

Figure 3 In 2007, posters in Beijing encouraged residents to avoid bad habits like littering or spitting in public. (Photograph © TEH ENG KOON/AFP/Getty Images.) Introduction 13

“make public order a part of daily life,” jaywalking and littering were demonized.50 China’s efforts at mass behavioral modifi cation for the Olympics seem to have dwarfed the earlier efforts in Tokyo and Seoul. A Capital Civilization Offi ce was established in the Beijing government to “over- see educational projects and contests to discourage spitting, foul language, aggressive driving, and catcalls directed at the opposing team during sports events.”51 A “smile campaign” pushed Beijing residents to be cheerier and less rude; the 11th of each month was christened “queuing day” to encourage citizens to wait in orderly lines; and cab- bies were harangued to improve their personal hygiene and English- language skills. Few could miss the obvious message of the enormous posters throughout Beijing that proclaimed “Welcome the Olympics, be civilized and follow the new trend!”52 The organizers of the 2008 Olympics even tried to discipline nature to ensure that the Games went off without a hitch: the government undertook cloud-seeding in attempts to wash pollution from Beijing’s air and ensure clear skies for the opening ceremony.53 In all of the East Asian Olympiads, toilet customs and sewage facilities were sources of considerable insecurity and obvious anxiety for the host cities. In Tokyo, the sewer system was dramatically expanded to cut down on the number of nightsoil trucks on the streets and the foul odors rising from the city’s rivers. In Seoul, a “Clean Toilet, Clean Korea” campaign aimed to replace Asian-style squat toilets with Western facilities and improve lavatory standards nationwide. Beijing hosted the World Toilet Summit in 2004 to raise awareness of international sanitary expectations and planned on installing 8,000 new public toilets and 400 miles of new sewage pipes in anticipation of the Olympics.54 Notably, just as the East Asian Olympic hosts all shared a fear of looking unhygienic, uncivilized, and under-developed in the eyes of the world, so too they shared a variety of fears of contamination, infection, and moral degradation by the overseas visitors brought in for the Games. In the planning for the 1940 Tokyo Olympiad, for instance, Japanese offi cials vigorously debated the construction of the main Olympic stadium in the Outer Garden of the Meiji Shrine; ardent nationalists worried that foreign athletes and spectators would pollute such a sacred spot.55 In 1964, Japanese apprehensions were less abstract: fearing for the chastity of local women with thousands of Western men in town, the Women’s Bureau of the Tokyo Metropolitan Welfare Offi ce produced a fi lmstrip and pamphlets encouraging “young ladies of good background” to be wary of the advances of “foreign, especially white, men.”56 In 1998, just prior to the Nagano Winter Games, Japa- nese police carried out “Operation White Snow,” a campaign to round up and deport “undesirable foreigners,” mainly manual laborers and bar hostesses from developing nations.57 In Seoul, the organizers were no less concerned about imported dangers: AIDS prevention efforts were stepped up in advance of the Olympics.58 For the Beijing Games, 14 The East Asian Olympiads however, public health appeared to take a back seat to political fears: Chinese government offi cials seemed far more nervous about human- rights protesters and critical journalists from abroad—the contagion of liberalism and Western democratic values—than about any biological pathogens.

URBAN TRANSFORMATIONS The Olympics bring dramatic changes to all host cities, but the impact of the Games on the infrastructure and architectural proﬁ les of Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing seems to have been unusually great. As Adrian Pitts and Hanwen Liao have demonstrated, the Tokyo and Beijing Games were among the most costly Olympics ever in terms of construction investments. In constant 1995 dollars, the overall investment for the 2008 Games was nearly $20 billion and for the 1964 Olympiad over $13 billion. In both cases, only a small portion of the total was spent directly on Olympic facilities (athletic venues, participant housing, etc.): in Tokyo 97.25 percent and in Beijing 79.24 percent of all investment went to the improvement and expansion of urban infrastructure. In both cities, the Games brought substantial new developments in transportation (highways, rail and subway lines, airport facilities), water and sewage systems, and communications.59 Even in Seoul, where Olympic spending was more modest, the creation of the Olym- pic Park, redevelopment along the Han River, and modernization of the telecommunication network had an obvious and lasting impact on the city and its public amenities.60 In all of the Asian Summer Olympics sites, eye-catching additions to the urban landscape—from the Shink- ansen “bullet trains” of Japan to the “Bird’s Nest” stadium and “Water Cube” in Beijing—marked the hosts in the international imagination as global cities. Such transformations were not without costs—especially in Seoul and Beijing, forced relocations of residents, the destruction of historic structures, and environmental concerns spawned harsh criticism overseas—but the vast modiﬁ cations to the urban fabric catalyzed by the Olympics were unprecedented in scale and have widely been considered changes for the better.

SWEET SUCCESS Finally, all of the Summer Olympics held in Asia have generally been judged successes, for the Olympic Movement and for the hosting nations and cities. Shadows of political instability hung over each of the Games: for Tokyo, it was the Security Treaty (AMPO) crisis of 1960; for Seoul, a history of dictatorship, democracy protests in the streets, and the threat of North Korean terrorism; for Beijing, human rights activism from abroad and regional and ethnic divisions within. In the end, though, all of the Games came off with only minor hitches: the biggest complaint about Tokyo was the rainy weather; Seoul was tarnished only by the boxing incident and rising anti-Americanism; Beijing Introduction 15 confronted charges of high-tech fakery in the opening ceremony and the unfortunate murder of a relative of a U.S. team trainer. In general, overseas commentators gushed with praise for the East Asian Olympics and the efﬁ ciency and hospitality of their hosts. The 1964 Games were lauded by one IOC member as “a marvel of organization and precision, a demonstration for the world to see . . . what Japan had become.”61 IOC president Juan Antonio Samaranch was poetic in his appraisal of the 1988 Games: “Apart from being a tremendous success for the whole Olympic family, one could perhaps even say that the Olympic Games in Seoul were a major factor behind the rapid democratization of the Republic of Korea and the development of an element of international goodwill, cooperation and fraternity, a new hope for peace.”62 Even in 2008, memories of the protests that followed the torch relay around the world and ongoing criticism of China’s “Genocide Olympics” were largely swept away in the global imagination by the spectacular Olym- pic show that Beijing staged. “The crowds came. The world watched. China delivered,” one American newspaper gushed. “China,” the retired Samaranch concluded after the Games, “is number one.”63 The Olympic Summer Games of 1964, 1988, and 2008 have been described as “coming out parties” for Japan, South Korea, and China. That is certainly part of the story of the Olympics in East Asia, but the meaning of the Games to the hosting nations, cities, and peoples has gone far beyond mere celebrations of having “made it” athletically or economically on the world stage. Notably, the Asian Olympiads have proven important sites for the deﬁ nition of identity, both national identity in the individual host countries and a common regional identity as rising East Asian powers, late-comers to wealth and global prominence, and modern societies with non-Western cultural roots. The Olympics have served as opportunities to revisit troubled pasts and exorcize historical demons; fashion more modern citizens, world- class cities, and enhanced international reputations; and work through the anxieties and insecurities of being perennial outsiders in a world order (and an Olympic Movement) still pivoted on Europe and North America. While hosting the Olympic Games has undeniably helped propel Japan, South Korea, and China into the ranks of the world’s elite developed nations, the complex East Asian experience of the Olympics has generally revealed enduring regional difference rather than creep- ing worldwide homogeneity, distinctive Asian histories, priorities, and identities rather than a unitary global modernity.

* * * * *

The essays in this volume all illustrate the themes and commonalities that have characterized the Olympics in East Asia. They also seek to locate the history of the East Asian Olympiads within the larger narrative of the Olympic Movement, and the experience of participating in and hosting the Olympics within the national histories of Japan, Korea, and China. 16 The East Asian Olympiads

The fi rst fi ve essays focus on Japan, its heritage of participation in international sporting competitions, and the Olympic Games of 1940 and 1964. Grant K. Goodman’s essay explores the Far Eastern Olym- pics, a series of regional athletic meets held in Asia between 1913 and 1934.64 Goodman examines the debates and diplomatic negotiations surrounding the inclusion of the puppet state of Manchukuo in the Tenth Far Eastern Games in Manila in 1934. Goodman’s account highlights the longstanding intersections of imperial politics and sport in East Asia, and prefi gures later political conundrums of Asian Olympic history, notably the “Two Chinas” and “Two Koreas” questions and the Cold War boycott brinksmanship of the 1980s. In his contribution on the ill-fated Tokyo Games of 1940, Barak Kushner considers the Olympics as part of the Japanese project of modernity, which took physical fi tness, hygiene, nutrition, and empire to be yardsticks of national progress. Kushner shows how the popular fi xation on Japan as a clean and healthy country refl ected not just insecurity vis-à-vis the advanced West, but also the desire to establish Japan in a position of superiority—affi rming its ambitions as an imperial master—over the nations of East and Southeast Asia. Moreover, in demonstrating how the modernization of everyday life was an important element in the preparations for the 1940 Games, Kushner links Asia’s fi rst experience of hosting the Olympics to the later campaigns against “uncivilized” behaviors such as public urination, jaywalking, and littering in Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing. Jessamyn Abel’s essay analyzes the 1940 and 1964 Tokyo Olympics from the perspective of “people’s diplomacy,” describing how organizers sought to use the Games to promote better understanding of Japan overseas. But if the Olympics brought opportunity for the building of Japan’s international stature, Abel explains, they also generated intense anxiety over the nation’s ability to measure up to Western standards of the modern. And even though advanced telecommunications technology meant the 1964 Games—the fi rst to be broadcast live around the globe—had a huge international audience, Abel concludes that the Olympic project of educating the world about Japan was, at best, only partially successful. Aaron Skabelund, in his piece on the role of Japan’s Self-Defense Force in the 1964 Olympics, explores how the military, like other icons of Japanese nationhood discredited by war and defeat (the national anthem, the rising sun fl ag, the emperor), was quietly reha- bilitated though participation in the Games. Skabelund reveals that in Tokyo, as would later be the case in Seoul and Beijing, the armed forces were critically important in supporting, staffi ng, and providing participants for the Olympics.65 He also shows how sprawling public events like the Games naturalized the mobilization of military forces in peace- time and contributed to a revival of Japanese nationalism after World War II. Gendered anxieties and racialized desires spawned by the 1964 Olympics are the subject of Paul Droubie’s contribution. Based on a broad survey of Japanese media coverage of the Games, he examines how the Olympics intensifi ed masculine insecurity in Japan (which Introduction 17 remained high in the wake of defeat and occupation) and generated widespread fears of young Japanese women being exploited by white male visitors from abroad. Japanese newspapers and magazines, Drou- bie reveals, also titillated readers with sexualized images of female athletes competing at the Games, yet focused almost exclusively on white, light-haired European women. Thus, in Japan (and later in Korea and China), the arrival of the Olympics and unprecedented numbers of overseas visitors inspired admiration as well as alarm, desire as well as disgust, refl ecting longstanding cultural patterns of constructing and perceiving gender, race, and the West in East Asia. Two essays, by James P. Thomas and Lisa Kim Davis, concentrate on the Seoul Olympics, which have received relatively little attention from Western scholars. Thomas explores the complex ways in which the 1988 Games were used—by authoritarian rulers, rioting students, the North Korean regime, and others—to advance multiple and diver- gent agendas. His analysis places the Olympics at the very center of the South Korean experience of the late twentieth century, demonstrating how hosting the Games contributed, in often surprisingly substantial ways, to the country’s democratic transition, to engagement with the Eastern Bloc and the normalization of relations with the Soviet Union and China, to support for the national project of economic development, and to the emergence of a monumentalism in Korean urban architecture that endures today. Although the academic literature has generally focused on the impact of the Seoul Olympics on Korea’s international stature and on the democracy movement, Lisa Kim Davis takes a very different approach in her contribution. Investigating the domestic forces driving the Korean bid for the Games, Davis shows how sports and the Olympics were part of a larger cultural policy designed to create disciplined urban bodies and a docile populace. Davis places the Seoul Games in a series of media spectacles—including the Miss Universe Pageant and the Kukp’ung ‘81 cultural festival—orchestrated by Korea’s repressive governments in the 1980s in an effort to distract urbanites and neutralize popular opposition. Both Davis and Thomas highlight numerous points of connection between the 1998 Olympics and the Games in Tokyo and Beijing, from their role in stok- ing a chauvinistic nationalism to their utility as statist tools of mass mobilization. China’s history of participation in the Olympics and the controversial 2008 Games in Beijing are the subject of the following three essays. Andrew Morris and Xu Guoqi both examine sport and nationalism in the Chinese experience. Morris sees in China’s Olympic ambitions a turbulent past of profound anxiety intertwined with patriotic pride, a compulsion to emulate the outside world (and especially the industrial West and Japan) in tension with an intense desire to overcome the imperialist powers. A defensive notion of nationalism, Morris concludes, is the defi ning feature of Chinese sport and China’s approach to the Olympic Games. Xu’s contribution echoes and expands many of the points made by Morris, arguing that sports, and especially inter- 18 The East Asian Olympiads national athletic success, has been an integral part of nation building in China. But while Xu shows that sports have been controlled by the state and used as a tool of nationalism in modern China, he empha- sizes that this is not unusual internationally and that capitalizing on the Olympics to build prestige overseas and fuel national pride at home characterized the Tokyo and Seoul Games as well as those in Beijing. Xu also suggests that the Olympics have proven an important means for China to engage with the larger world and concludes, somewhat optimistically, that the accommodations negotiated between the Peo- ple’s Republic and Taiwan (as well as the less well-known case of Hong Kong) in international sporting competitions could provide a template for a broader rapprochement in the region. John James Kennedy presents a nuanced view of the Beijing Games and their infl uence on political reform in China. Kennedy details how government policy since the 1990s has been inconsistent in addressing rapid growth and severe economic polarization: while the state has tried to maintain order by allowing incremental political and electoral reforms, it has also stepped up repression at symbolically charged and particularly anxiety-ridden moments (like the 2008 Olympics). The Beijing Games, Kennedy argues, should not be seen as landmark events either in China’s democratization or the intensifi cation of state oppression, but as part of a long-term process of two steps forward in political reform followed by one step backward with repressive crackdowns. The fi nal two essays in this volume look at the Olympics in East Asia collectively, with a focus on issues of gender and architectural spectacle. Robin Kietlinski’s piece highlights the contributions of East Asian female athletes to the Olympic Games. Kietlinski reveals that the process by which women established their place in the Olym- pics mirrored the sometimes tortured course of Asian nations seeking acceptance in the international Movement. The exposure to female competitors at the Olympics and the building of athletic facilities in the East Asian host cities, Kietlinski maintains, has increased interest in women’s sports and opportunities for female participation in Japan, Korea, and China. John Horne investigates the architectural mega-projects spawned by the Asian Olympiads and the ways in which host countries have used spectacular buildings to support programs of nation and image building. Horne’s essay draws notice to the commercialization of the Olympics and the passionate yearning of Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing for affi rmation as “global cities.” Horne also notes that in East Asia, as in the West, the architectural monumentalism of sporting mega-events tends to benefi t the elites in society while placing more burdens on the weak and vulnerable. Taken together, the essays in this collection underscore the need for scholarship on the history, legacy, and contested meanings of the Olympic Games in East Asia. The Olympiads in Tokyo, Seoul, and Beijing demand attention not just as milestone in the national histories of Japan, South Korea, and China, or as mere way stations in the worldwide circuit of the Olympics, but as symbolically, politically, Introduction 19 and emotionally charged spaces for negotiating ethnicity and empire, memory and marginalization, nationalism and global engagement. Beyond serving as immense exercises in building bodies and nations, the Olympic Games have been defi ning moments in the building of identity in modern East Asia.

NOTES 1 Kevin B. Wamsley and Kevin Young, “Introduction: Coubertin’s Olympic Games: The Greatest Show on Earth” in Global Olympics: Historical and Sociological Studies of the Modern Games, ed. Kevin Young and Kevin B. Wamsley (Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2005), p. xiii. 2 Richard W. Pound, Five Rings over Korea: The Secret Negotiations behind the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul (Boston: Little Brown, 1994), p. 318. 3 Monroe E. Price, “Introduction” in Owning the Olympics: Narratives of the New China, ed. Monroe E. Price and Daniel Dayan (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2008), pp. 3, 6. 4 Useful sources on groups protesting the Beijing Games are Victor D. Cha, Beyond the Final Score: The Politics of Sport in Asia (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009) and Minky Worden, ed., China’s Great Leap: The Beijing Games and Olympian Human Rights Challenges (New York: Seven Stories Press, 2008). 5 Daniel Dayan, “Beyond Media Events: Disenchantment, Derailment, Disruption” in Owning the Olympics, ed. Price and Dayan, p. 391. 6 Olympic Charter (Lausanne, Switzerland: International Olympic Committee, 2007), http://www.olympic.org/Documents/olympic_charter_en.pdf, accessed January 8, 2010. 7 Quoted in Leith Morton, The Alien Within: Representations of the Exotic in Twentieth-Century Japanese Literature (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2009), p. 197. 8 The Beijing Olympics, which sparked environmental and political controversies around the globe, have attracted far more attention from Western scholars than any of the other Games held in East Asia. Among the academic books on the 2008 Olympiad published in English are Susan Brownell, Beijing’s Games: What the Olympics Mean to China (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littleﬁ eld, 2008); Cha, Beyond the Final Score; Paul Close, David Askew, and Xu Xin, The Beijing Olympiad: The Political Economy of a Sporting Mega-Event (London: Routledge, 2007); Grant Jarvie, Dong-Jhy Hwang, and Mel Brennan, Sport, Revolution and the Beijing Olympics (Oxford, UK: Berg, 2008); Price and Dayan, eds., Owning the Olympics; Worden, ed., China’s Great Leap; and Xu Guoqi, Olympic Dreams: China and Sports, 1895–2008 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2008). 9 The Winter Games in Sapporo and Nagano have received almost no attention from scholars working in English. The history and culture of winter sports in East Asia are also deserving of more academic research. On the Nagano Games, see Yamashita Takayuki, “The 1998 Nagano Olympics: Japaneseness and Globalism in the Opening Ceremonies” in This Sporting Life: Sports and Body Culture in Modern Japan, ed. William W. Kelly with Sugimoto Atsuo 20 The East Asian Olympiads

(New Haven: Yale Center for East Asian Studies, Occasional Publications Vol. 1, 2007), pp. 125–141. 10 Allen Guttmann, The Olympics: A History of the Modern Games, Second Edition (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2002), p. 194. 11 Sanada Hisashi, “‘The Most Polite Savages’: The Participation of Ainu in the 1904 St. Louis Olympic Games” in Olympic Japan: Ideals and Realities of (Inter)Nationalism, ed. Andreas Niehaus and Max Seinsch (Würzburg: Ergon Verlag, 2007), pp. 133–149; Susan Brownell, ed., The 1904 Anthropology Days and Olympic Games: Sport, Race, and American Imperialism (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2008). 12 The quotation is from the ofﬁ cial report of the Los Angeles Games. Xu, Olympic Dreams, p. 43. 13 Allen Guttmann, Games and Empires: Modern Sports and Cultural Imperialism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994), p. 120. 14 See Brownell, Beijing’s Games, pp. 177–179; Cha, Beyond the Final Score, pp. 22–27. 15 Brownell, Beijing’s Games, p. 67. 16 Sandra Collins, The 1940 Tokyo Games: The Missing Olympics (Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2007), p. 26. 17 Emerson Chapin, “When Not to Go to Tokyo,” New York Times, February 23, 1964. 18 “Japan Throwing off Cloak of Isolation,” New York Times, October 11, 1964. 19 Quoted in James F. Larson and Heung-Soo Park, Global Television and the Politics of the Seoul Olympics (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993), p. 190. 20 Dong Jinxia and J.A. Mangan, “Beijing Olympics Legacies: Certain Intentions and Certain and Uncertain Outcomes,” International Journal of the History of Sport 25:14 (2008), p. 2026. On the concept of the “sick man of Asia,” see Xu, Olympic Dreams, pp. 17–20. 21 Anne-Marie Brady, “The Beijing Olympics as a Campaign of Mass Distraction,” The China Quarterly 197 (March 2009), p. 10. 22 Collins, The 1940 Tokyo Games, pp. 4, 143–144. 23 Quoted in Yoshikuni Igarashi, Bodies of Memory: Narratives of War in Postwar Japanese Culture, 1945–1970 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), p. 144. See also Noriko Aso, “Sumptuous Repast: The 1964 Tokyo Olympic Arts Festival,” positions 10:1 (2002), pp. 13, 19. 24 Aso, “Sumptuous Repast,” pp. 14–15. 25 Quoted in Christian Tagsold, “The Tokyo Olympics as a Token of Renationalization” in Olympic Japan, ed. Niehaus and Seinsch, p. 113. 26 Igarashi, Bodies of Memory, p. 155. 27 “Self pity” was a phrase used by Edward Seidensticker. Igarashi, Bodies of Memory, p. 155; Tagsold, “The Tokyo Olympics,” p. 114. 28 James McClain, “Cultural Chauvinism and the Olympiads of East Asia,” International Journal of the History of Sport 7:3 (1990), p. 392. The journalist Ian Buruma has presented a somewhat different gloss on Sohn’s place in the 1988 opening ceremony: “Sohn, said a young Korean interpreter at the Seoul games, is not a sincere patriot. Perhaps that is why he was allowed to enter the Seoul stadium carrying the Olympic ﬂ ame, but not to complete Introduction 21

the fi nal lap: Sohn may be a great Korean, but he had run for the Japanese.” Ian Buruma, The Missionary and the Libertine: Love and War in East and West (London: Faber and Faber, 1996), pp. 162–163. 29 George Orwell, “The Sporting Spirit” (1945) in The Complete Works of George Orwell, Vol. 17, ed. Peter Davison (London: Secker and Warburg, 1998), p. 442. 30 See McClain, “Cultural Chauvinism,” p. 399; Andreas Niehaus and Max Seinsch, “Introduction: Ideals and Realities of (Inter)Nationalism” in Olympic Japan, ed. Niehaus and Seinsch, pp. 7–8. On the 1964 Olympics and the standardization of the hi no maru fl ag, see Tagsold, “The Tokyo Olympics,” p. 120. 31 McClain, “Cultural Chauvinism,” p. 395. 32 Brian Glanville, “The Tokyo Games” in The Games of the XVIIIth Olympiad, Tokyo 1964 (Lausanne, Switzerland: International Olympic Institute, 1965), p. 287. 33 Buruma, The Missionary and the Libertine, pp. 155, 169. 34 See Larson and Park, Global Television and the Politics of the Seoul Olympics, pp. 215–227; Buruma, The Missionary and the Libertine, pp. 166–167. 35 Julia Lovell, “Prologue: Beijing 2008—The Mixed Messages of Contemporary Chinese Nationalism,” International Journal of the History of Sport 25:7 (June 2008), p. 759. 36 David J. Davies, “’Go China! Go!’: Running Fan and Debating Success during China’s Olympic Summer,” International Journal of the History of Sport 26:8 (July 2009), p. 1050. 37 Lovell, “Prologue: Beijing 2008,” pp. 765, 760, 764. 38 Collins, The 1940 Tokyo Games, p. 7. 39 Sandra Collins, “The Fragility of Asian National Identity in the Olympic Games” in Owning the Olympics, ed. Price and Dayan, p. 186. 40 Quoted in Collins, The 1940 Tokyo Games, p. 55. 41 Quoted in Aso, “Sumptuous Repast,” p.30. 42 See McClain, “Cultural Chauvinism,” pp. 393–394. One overseas journalist commented that “In Rome, Nervi’s stadia were magnifi cent, but they were merely a few fi ne buildings amidst the architectural glories of centuries. In Tokyo, the futuristic Olympian stadia were the fi nest buildings. All else was a festering, urban sore or, at best, a conglomeration of great, functional monoliths.” Glanville, “The Tokyo Games,” p. 287. 43 Quoted in McClain, “Cultural Chauvinism,” p. 389. 44 Quoted in Brownell, Beijing’s Games, p. 40. See also Collins, The 1940 Tokyo Games, pp. 186–190. 45 Collins, The 1940 Tokyo Games, p. 2. 46 Cha, Beyond the Final Score, p. 45. 47 Chapin, “When Not to Go to Tokyo.” 48 Tagsold, “The Tokyo Olympics,” p. 126. 49 Igarashi, Bodies of Memory, pp. 146–153; Cha, Beyond the Final Score, p. 108. 50 Christopher R. Hill, Olympic Politics (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1992), p. 212; Larson and Park, Global Television and the Politics of the Seoul Olympics, pp. 154–155. 51 Xu, Olympic Dreams, p. 252. 52 Brady, “The Beijing Olympics,” p. 11; see also Lovell, “Prologue: Beijing 2008,” p. 768. 22 The East Asian Olympiads

53 Jacques deLisle, “’One World, Different Dreams’: The Contest to Defi ne the Beijing Olympics” in Owning the Olympics, ed. Price and Dayan, p. 25. 54 Igarashi, Bodies of Memory, pp. 150–151; Cha, Beyond the Final Score, pp. 46– 47; Carolyn Marvin, “’All Under Heaven’—Megaspace in Beijing” in Owning the Olympics, ed. Price and Dayan, p. 235. 55 Collins, The 1940 Tokyo Games, pp. 1066–1067. 56 Quoted in Igarashi, Bodies of Memory, p. 149. 57 Jens Wilkinson, “The Shattered Myths of the Nagano Olympics,” AMPO: Asia Japan Quarterly Review 28:2 (1998), pp. 8–9. 58 Hill, Olympic Politics, p. 213. 59 Adrian Pitts and Hanwen Liao, Sustainable Olympic Design and Urban Development (Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2009), pp. 34–41. Real spending on the 1964 Olympics totaled just under one trillion yen; the Japanese national budget in fi scal 1958 was only 1.3 trillion yen, giving a sense of the investment in the Games. Igarashi, Bodies of Memory, p. 146. 60 Brian Bridges, “The Seoul Olympics: Economic Miracle Meets the World,” International Journal of the History of Sport 25:14 (December 2008), p. 1943. 61 Pound, Five Rings over Korea, p. 23. 62 Quoted in Hill, Olympic Politics, p. 215. 63 Mark Magnier, “As the Spotlight Dims,” Los Angeles Times, August 25, 2008. 64 Another recent source on the Far Eastern Olympics is Abe Ikuo, “Historical Signifi cance of the Far Eastern Championship Games: An International Political Arena” in Olympic Japan, ed. Niehaus and Seinsch, pp. 67–87. 65 On the contributions of the South Korean military to the Seoul Games, see Park Seh-jik, The Seoul Olympics: The Inside Story (London: Bellew Publishing, 1991), pp. 92–95. 1 Athletics as Politics: Japan, the Philippines, and the Far Eastern Olympics of 1934

Grant K. Goodman

he decade of the 1930s was an intensely busy era for both the T independence-minded Filipinos and the expansion-oriented Japanese. And the eagerness of private citizens in each country to know more about the other was stimulated and encouraged by the governments of both countries. While the contacts among Japanese and Filipino students, educators, and technical experts was the most exalted unoffi cial level at which such cultural interchanges were carried out, it was by no means either the only level or necessarily the most signifi cant one. Accordingly, the breadth of the concept of inter-cultural relations was very wide indeed and might be said to have encompassed every kind of interpersonal exchange in which representative individuals of a particular segment of the society of one country came into contact with a similar element in the society of the other. Athlete or musician, businessman or farmer, parliamentarian or journalist must be considered participants in the vastly expanded contacts between Japanese and Filipinos in the decade between the Manchurian Incident and Pearl Harbor. One such contact, which had very signifi cant political overtones, produced the dispute which resulted from the attempt of the Japanese to insist upon the admission of Manchukuo to participation in the 1934 Far Eastern Olympics scheduled for Manila on May 12–19 of that year.1 The question of Manchukuo’s entrance into the Games had fi rst been presented to the executive committee of the Philippine Amateur Athletic Federation (PAAF) in July of 1933 by a delegation of eight members of the House of Peers who had been visitors in Manila from July 1 through July 5. At that time the executive committee did not take any action on the matter. However, on January 5, 1934 the Chinese National Athletic Federation advised the Philippine authorities that China would not 24 The East Asian Olympiads take part in the Games if Manchukuo were admitted.2 The Chinese stated that Manchukuo had no international standing and that the admission of athletes from Manchukuo would be tantamount to recognition of the existence of the Manchukuan state. On January 13 the directors of the Japan Amateur Athletic Federation (JAAF) decided that for the moment they would not insist upon the admission of Manchukuo but did join the Philippines and China in accepting the participation in the Games of a different new member, the Netherlands East Indies.3 Concurrently, however, the JAAF let it be known that it would continue to press for the acceptance of Manchukuo and would not accept any additional member states (there was a pending application from French Indo-China) until the matter of Manchukuo was resolved. In late February, 1934 in Manila, Japanese Consul General Kimura Atsushi publicly urged China to reconsider its opposition to the admission of Manchukuo to the Far Eastern Olympics. Kimura contended that Manchukuan participation would not at all equate to international recognition of Manchukuo. Further, he noted that just the preceding month the Dutch East Indies had been invited to enter the Games although they were not an independent state.4 Retrospectively, of course, one might wonder whether Japan’s support for the admission of the Dutch East Indies had not indeed in the fi rst place been calculated to facilitate the hoped-for acceptance of Manchukuo. Since Article 3 of the constitution of the Far Eastern Olympics adopted in 1930 in Tokyo provided that the admission of new countries must be by the unanimous consent of the three original members, Japan, China, and the Philippines, the Japan Amateur Athletic Federation decided on March 2 to dispatch a special envoy to China and the Phil- ippines to try to persuade the athletic authorities of the two countries to agree to Manchukuo’s participation. The envoy sent to Manila was Dr. Yamamoto Tadaoki, Dean of the College of Engineering and Director of Physical Training at Waseda University and President of both the Japan Intercollegiate Athletic Union and the Japan Students Track and Field Federation. Dr. Yamamoto was accompanied by one K. Kubota who was said to be Secretary of the Manchukuo Amateur Athletic Association of which Tien Shouhan was said to be the President. On his arrival in Manila Dr. Yamamoto told the press:

Japan is only helping Manchukuo in her statehood. She has no egoistic motive in sponsoring the entry of the new state to the league. We have come to enlist the moral support of the Philippines with the hope in the name of sportsmanship to persuade China to consent to the admission of Manchukuo. We are willing to discuss this matter heart to heart in a round table conference with a view to coming to an agreement in the cause of athletics and sportsmanship. This question should be discussed from the sportsmanship point of view. If China has any spirit of sportsmanship, she should be convinced of the high motives of Japan.5 Athletics as Politics 25

In terms which sound uncannily contemporary, Dr. Yamamoto also told the press that, “We want to raise ourselves, Filipinos, Chinese, and Japanese alike, above political entanglements and to view the situation from a sportsmanlike angle. We are all working for the glory of sports. Let us forget the question of the past and teach our younger generation to unite themselves in a spirit of cooperation for a greater Far East.”6 Dr. Yamamoto had scheduled meetings with Dr. R. Ylanan, national physical director and secretary treasurer of the PAAF, and with Acting Secretary of Agriculture and Commerce Jorge B. Vargas who was ﬁ rst vice-president of the Federation. In yet another statement to the Philippine press designed to put more pressure on the Filipinos, Dr. Yamamoto fervently argued: “If Indo-China and the Dutch East Indies, dependent countries, are allowed to participate in the tenth Far East Olympics, how much more is Manchukuo an independent state. . . . They are virtually on the same footing, and they should not be inﬂ uenced by politics. Japan does not mix politics with sports.”7 But C. T. Wang, former National Foreign Minister and Chairman of the China Amateur Athletic Federation, commenting sarcastically on the mission of Dr. Yamamoto said:

Where is Manchukuo? We can’t ﬁ nd it on any map and therefore are not able to even understand such a proposal. Manchukuo has no Olympic team. Those fellows are Chinese and have been running for China for years. We won’t compete against any Japanese instigated ringers. China will withdraw if such a team appears.8

However, Secretary Vargas carefully explained to the press that there was no issue between Japan and the Philippines since the Philippines had voted along with Japan to accept the application of Manchukuo. Such a revelation seems, of course, particularly interesting in the light of America’s vigorous adherence to the Stimson Doctrine and seems to give further credence to what I have elsewhere called “America’s permissive colonialism.” Indeed if Vargas were correct, and there is certainly no evidence to the contrary, then what exactly was Dr. Yamamoto doing in the Philippines? Dr. Yamamoto had been especially selected for the Philippine trip not simply because of his high position in the Japanese athletic world and his outstanding reputation as a scientist who was known to be at work on the development of television. Perhaps equally importantly he was chosen because he was to be seen as a “non- political” fi gure who was a leading Christian layman who was himself vice-president of the International Sunday School Association and president of the Japanese branch of the same organization. The motive, then, behind his being sent to the Islands was apparently to convince the Filipinos, who were to host the Games, of the righteousness of the Japanese-Manchukuan cause beyond any constitutional proviso and to prepare the Filipinos for the eventuality of the withdrawal of China from participation. What the Japanese seemingly hoped to do was to 26 The East Asian Olympiads have Dr. Yamamoto lay the groundwork to have the Games proceed as scheduled without China and thus gain a semblance of recognition for the as yet internationally unrecognized Manchukuo. At the same time there were also signifi cant hints to the press and in turn to the public that Japan itself might be forced to withdraw from the Games due to an “aroused” pro-Manchukuan public opinion at home. On March 22 Dr. Yamamoto appeared before an executive committee meeting of the PAAF as a “mere observer” on behalf of Japan in order to demonstrate Japan’s wholehearted approval of Manchukuo’s application. In his “offi cial pronouncement” which he released in full to the press Dr. Yamamoto said:

The public opinion in Japan is: Manchukuo must be admitted; otherwise no Japanese athlete be sent [sic] to Manila next May. I submit the proposal that the Philippines favor a round-table conference, send delegates to this conference, and have it called immediately. I propose that this conference be held at Shanghai immediately. The question of Manchukuo’s admission must be decided before May. The personal presence of the delegates at the conference will tend to have this matter decided once and for all. My country is ready to submit a motion to have the FEAA’s [Far Eastern Athletic Association's] rules amended, if this is necessary in order to admit Manchukuo. If Manchukuo is not admitted, my fear is that Japan will be absent from Manila next May.9

Dr. Yamamoto left Manila on March 28, 1934 highly pleased with the reception he had received, especially the support of the PAAF in arranging the requested meeting in Shanghai among the three founder states of the Far Eastern Games to review the question of the participation of Manchukuo.10

Fully conﬁ dent that China’s stand opposing to the discussion of the question of Manchukuo’s athletes at the coming Shanghai confab seems very far from the spirit of the Far Eastern Championship Games, with Oriental brotherhood and mutual cooperation as their ideals, I have no doubt that the Philippines will join me in asking China to sit at the coming confab fully sports-minded disregarding all outside disagreements whether political or not, if any, for the sake of the Olympic spirit, to enter into the discussion from a pure sports point of view.11

Indeed, regardless of the outcome of the Shanghai talks, Dr. Yamamoto had already had a signal success in Manila. For, apparently, at his behest, the PAAF had agreed to extend an invitation to Manchukuo to send representatives to compete in an “invitational tournament” which would also be held in Manila in May. In this instance, of course, the Filipino hosts could obviously “invite” whomever they wished. Athletics as Politics 27

Seemingly doubly reassured by this latter development, an enthusiastic Dr. Yamamoto told the press that he felt so certain an accord would be reached that he had already telegraphed the Japan Athletic Federation and the Japan Physical Training Association that Manchukuo’s entry was assured. Yamamoto also said he was taking to Shanghai a statement to be signed by the three original member states to the effect that “the admission of Manchukuo would have no political signifi cance.”12 The roundtable conference of the representatives of the three founding states opened as scheduled at Shanghai on April 9, 1934 with University of the Philippines Professor Vidal Tan as Philippine delegate and chairman. The Chinese delegates with the support of the Nationalist Government stood fi rm in their opposition to the admission of Manchukuo citing the recent decisions of the League of Nations against the recognition of Manchukuo, and they threatened to withdraw if athletes from Manchukuo were allowed to participate in the Manila Games. Since Japan was equally insistent in favor of her candidate for membership in the Far Eastern Olympics, the meeting broke up on April 11 without a decision and with the Japanese demanding a fi nal statement of the Philippine position before midnight April 14. In Manila the PAAF, despite its own repeated support for Manchukuo, voted to retain its original position that unanimous consent of the participating athletic federations was necessary for the admission of Manchukuo as the constitution of the Far Eastern Olympics provided. The failure of the roundtable conference, from Japan’s point of view, led the Japan Physical Culture Association to postpone all preparations for Japan’s participation in the Manila Games. Hiranuma Ry¯oz¯o, Vice- President of the JPCA, sent Dr. Yamamoto the following cable:

We are extremely disappointed to learn of the unfavorable development, and especially over news that the Philippine delegation has acted contrary to what it promised us in Manila last month. . . . Please cable us full facts concerning the Filipino breach of promise. . . .13

The Japanese were particularly angered by Dr. Tan’s decision that, although Manchukuo received two votes for to one against, a unanimous vote was required for its admission. Dr. Yamamoto, in turn, spoke very critically of the Filipino position: "All those who agreed to my views in Manila failed to come to the conference here. They have sent Dr. Tan who does not know the Manila negotiations, and this fact is responsible for his opinion that Manchukuo’s participation must be permitted by a unanimous vote."14 We do not know, of course, what private commitments, if any, Secretary Vargas may have made to Dr. Yamamoto nor do we know whether Dr. Tan acted under instructions, which is certainly most likely. In any event, Dr. Yamamoto must have expected something very different from the Filipinos at Shanghai given his enthusiastic anticipation on leaving Manila for Shanghai, on the 28 The East Asian Olympiads one hand, and his bitter attacks on the Filipinos after Shanghai, on the other. The Filipinos, for their part, responded to the Japanese charges by insisting that they acted as they did on legal grounds. Secretary Vargas, speaking for the PAAF, expressed their views as follows:

I regret exceedingly recent developments on the Far Eastern Championship Games. We have a great admiration for Japan and the Japanese people and are most anxious to preserve the friendliest relations with them. In view of the existing rules, however, the Philippines had to take the action taken in Shanghai. But while the Philippines felt under obligation to uphold the system of unanimous vote for the admission of new participants in the Games, it will gladly agree to the modiﬁ cation of such rules to permit a majority vote instead at the coming Olympic Congress in Manila. This we promised Dr. Yama- moto, and we are ready to live up to it.15

The Philippine press, for its part, responded far more angrily to the Japanese charge that the Filipinos had broken their promise to Japan. In the Manila Herald Godofredo Rivera wrote: “Thanks to China and Japan, the Philippines has just had her fi rst lesson in modern diplomacy. . . . Two nations make a mess of something and a third nation gets the blame.”16 The Manila Bulletin suggested that the Philippine attempt to placate all parties had placated none and simply “intensifi ed ill-feeling.”17 Both Juan P. Lopez and Frederico Mangahas, popular columnists, wrote pieces lamenting the harsh treatment of the Filipinos by the Japanese. 18 Meanwhile in Tokyo, Modesto Farolan, business manager of the infl uential D-M-H-M newspapers in Manila, who happened to be in Japan at the moment of the emerging crisis, presented himself at the JAAF and asked to be permitted to make an appearance before the JAAF Council. The furor, it seemed, had reached a point where it now was possible that the JAAF Council might be fearful of not pulling out of the Games in order to avoid any further arousal of the often violent Manchukuan ultra-patriotic groups inside Japan. Yet the Filipinos’ own amor proprio was also involved because of the implication by Dr. Yama- moto that there had been a breach of faith on the Philippine side. Thus, both Farolan in Tokyo and Ylanan in a statement to the press in Manila sought to convince the Japanese that they had, in fact, done their best to have Manchukuo added to the roster of the Games’ participants. In any event, despite Japan’s evident pique, there was still some reluc- tance to withdraw from the Games. Nevertheless, the tension between the two countries was clear. In fact, Consul General Kimura, genuinely concerned from an offi cial standpoint, cabled the Foreign Offi ce in Tokyo to avoid arousing further Philippine ill will.19 And Secretary Vargas radioed Philippine Senate President Manuel L. Quezon, who was on board the “Empress of Canada” en route back to the Philippines after having secured the Tydings McDuffi e Independence Act from the American Congress and the American President. Vargas asked Quezon Athletics as Politics 29 to visit Tokyo on April 21 and to confer with JAAF offi cials to “work out the whole matter amicably.”20 It seemed that the cable from Consul Kimura plus the imminence of Quezon’s arrival in Japan had had a salutary effect. On April 15 a cablegram to Vargas from Yamamoto demonstrated a less strident tone: “The protest from the JAAF was not literally correct or courteous to you, but it shows their serious attitude. In this crisis, I hope that you will take extraordinary steps.”21 Moreover, as a Christian, Dr. Yamamoto, in his cable to Secretary Vargas, appealed to the Christian feelings of the executive committee of the PAAF. He said that China, Japan, Manchukuo, and the Philippines are all under God and therefore all are the same. According to Dr. Yamamoto, “What is known by the faithful as the work of a miracle is really only nothing more or less than the work of God,” and he hoped God would accomplish a miracle in this controversy.22 Finally, also on April 15, the Japan Physical Culture Association decided to participate in the Manila Games declaring that their organization was determined “to show magnanimity worthy of a great nation.”23 At the same time the Manchukuans, supported by more nationalistic Japanese student organizations, were very distressed and even threatened to cut their ties with the JAAF, though whether this was a charade for foreign consumption, is of course, diffi cult to determine. The reaction in Manila to these more moderate Japanese statements was, not unexpectedly, immediately favorable. Said Vidal Tan, “It is a fi ne example of sportsmanship on the part of the Japanese,”24 and the Herald editorialized: “We trusted Japan’s nobility, and Japan has not disappointed us.”25 Finally the Japanese government itself went on record when Baron Yamakawa Takeru, Head, Physical Culture Section, Ministry of Education (Monbush¯o), said that his Ministry “greatly” favored Japan’s participation in the Games, a policy which the Baron said the Monbush¯o had decided upon “many months ago.”26 On April 22 Manuel L. Quezon arrived in Yokohama aboard the “Empress of Canada.” He denied that he had been asked by Vargas to meet with offi cials of the JAAF about the Far Eastern Olympics. He was, he noted, President of the PAAF and an enthusiastic supporter of the Games but said that he had heard “nothing on the question” but that “any nation in the Far East should be welcome to the Games unless its entry violated the constitution.”27 Despite his protestation of ignorance about the problem of Manchukuan participation in the Manila Games, the very afternoon of his arrival in Yokohama Quezon rushed to Tokyo to meet with Hiranuma Ry¯oz¯o. Exactly what transpired at that meeting is not known. However, as in so many other areas of Philippine-Japanese prewar relations, what followed appears to demonstrate yet again the fi ne diplomatic skill of Quezon. For, after the Quezon-Hiranuma discussion, it was evident that Japan would fully participate in the Manila Games despite the absence of Man- chukuo but that Japan would continue to press for ultimate Manchukuan 30 The East Asian Olympiads entry into the Far Eastern Olympics. And, as events would show, the Philippines, for its part, was fully committed to support Japan’s position after the 1934 Far Eastern Olympics were over. Indeed, so improved had Philippines-Japan athletic relations become that, together with Quezon, on board the “Empress of Canada” when it reached Manila on April 30 were Matsuzawa Ikkaku and Abe Kitar¯o, offi cials of the JAAF who were to make fi nal preparations for Japan’s participation in the Games.28 That the Quezon magic and/or the Japanese government’s pro-Que- zon “magic” had worked well was still evident when the Japanese athletic delegation itself arrived in Manila aboard the “Heiyo¯ Maru.” The leader of the athletes was none other than Hiranuma Ry¯oz¯o himself, and he sent the following message back to Japan: “After a feeling of uneasiness due to the various incidents which presented themselves prior to our departure, we arrive in Manila to fi nd that both the people of the Philippines and the Japanese residents are awaiting us with a warm reception. We are now in a most cheerful frame of mind.”29 However, as soon as the competition ended, the Manchukuo matter moved once more to the forefront. On May 20 the congress of the Far Eastern Athletic Association with Vargas in the chair opened in Manila, and Japan’s proposal to admit Manchukuo was sent to a special committee “to examine various questions and report its fi ndings to tomorrow’s session.”30 When, as anticipated, the special committee failed to reach a decision on the Manchukuo question, Japan and the Philippines agreed to dissolve the Far Eastern Athletic Association and to form, together, a new body including Manchukuo but excluding China. This organization took the name Amateur Athletic Association of the Orient (AAAO), and its stated purpose was to conduct future Far Eastern Olympics. Yet, even despite this remarkable Philippine embracing of the Japanese cause, on his arrival back in Japan from the Manila Games, Hiranuma Ry¯oz¯o, who had just been elected the new president of the AAAO, said in an interview with the Japanese press, “the level of Philippine sports is not high and the judges are inexperienced.”31 Curiously I found no Filipino reaction to this unexpected slur. Nevertheless, the result of the decision by the Philippines to do Japan’s bidding, so to speak, evoked an almost universally unfavorable response in the Manila press. “Yesterday in an atmosphere of solemn mockery surcharged with hypocrisy, the Philippines took its orders from Japan and assisted to bowing China out of the picture,” editorialized the despairing Bulletin.32 The Bulletin continued:

In effect, the Japanese are determined that China, of all nations, should recognize factually a country that no nation other than Japan has recognized diplomatically. If not deliberately intended for humiliation, certainly it would serve that purpose. China is quite right under the circumstances in withdrawing, but it will be a long time before we can understand why the Philippines were a party to such a shabby procedure.33 Athletics as Politics 31

The Herald in its editorial headlined “The Breach of Neutrality” urged that no Filipino join the newly organized Amateur Athletic Association of the Orient.34 An American professor visiting Japan termed the Filipino action “cowardly betrayal.”35 Perhaps the gravest charge was that by its precipitate action in leaving the FEAA and giving life to the AAAO “the Philippines became the fi rst government, outside of Japan, to recognize that Manchukuo was not a part of China.”36 Yet Quezon did receive one very appreciative message—from the Japanese athletes returning home aboard the “Heiyo¯ Maru”!37 In the seeming capitulation of the Filipinos to the Japanese, the Filipinos were ostensibly simply adhering to the position that an athletic event was inappropriate for the intrusion of political problems and that China had been ill advised in raising the issue of diplomatic recognition of Manchukuo, especially since the Philippines was still an American colony and theoretically could not “recognize” anything anywhere. Of course, as in so many athletic events of an international nature with which all of us are familiar in our own time, political considerations overrode athletic considerations for all of the governments concerned. Obviously the Manchukuan question was of great political signifi - cance to both Japan and China. Otherwise the Japanese would not have seen fi t to press the matter to its ultimate conclusion. Since these athletic developments were also concurrent with the passage of the Tydings-McDuffe Law in the United States, promising the Philippines its independence in ten years, diplomatic pressure on the Philippines suddenly took on a new meaning with Consul General Kimura Atsushi suggesting that it behooved the Filipinos to be conciliatory toward Japan and advising that “the Philippines should not, at this time when independence is coming, try to antagonize Japanese feeling.”38 Clearly the decision of the Philippines to support the Japanese was a realistic refl ection of the view that a refusal to cooperate with Japan at that particular juncture in Philippine history would have been highly inadvisable. Moreover, my own reading of the sequence of events after the hurried Quezon-Hiranuma meeting in Tokyo is that what was decided there was, in effect, a quid pro quo. Quezon apparently persuaded the Japanese to allow the Manila Games to go forward as long since planned and without Manchukuo represented. In return for this Japanese “con- cession,” he must have promised that the Philippines would, after the Games were over, commit itself to the admission of Manchukuo to the Far Eastern Athletic Association even at the risk of a Chinese walkout. As I see it, Quezon’s reasoning must have been that he did not want anything to disrupt the anticipated success of the Manila Games which would certainly redound to the further enhancement of his own personal political achievements following so closely on the heels of his Washington triumph. Politically, too, he could surely have persuaded the Japanese that in the long run an independent Philippines under Quezon’s leadership would be a Philippines with increasingly close ties to Japan. Moreover, Quezon must have convinced the Japanese that they were better off dealing with a strengthened political personality 32 The East Asian Olympiads like himself, one well known to them, than with a lesser known and less reliable Philippine leader who might seek to capitalize on Quezon’s perceived weakness should the Philippine government be seen to be “forced” to bend to Japan’s pressure for the admission of Manchukuo. Once the Games were history, so to speak, the Philippine decision to support Manchukuo could be responsive to Japan’s political needs. There would be and indeed there was an outcry of the sort described, but Quezon’s thinking must have been that the euphoria of the aftermath on the Manila Games would eventually outweigh the immediate criticism of Philippine support for the admission of Manchukuo. Further, of course, the next Games would not be held for another four years and would not be in Manila. Who knew what the next four years might hold, let alone in international athletic competition? And who knew what other considerations might intrude unexpectedly? What Quezon did know, however, was that a cooperative and supportive Japan was essential to the fi rst four years of the Commonwealth-to-be. To that end, as I analyze Quezon’s motive, admission of Manchukuo to the Far Eastern Olympics four years hence must have seemed a relatively small price to pay. As Quezon must have calculated, Japan’s gratitude for this Philippine gesture would be worth very much more. Let me fi nally add two very intriguing points which I believe are apparent in this narrative. The fi rst is the role of Vargas as Quezon’s surrogate. “George” was clearly utterly loyal and was always on the front line for his “boss,” so to speak. In this instance, both the negotiations before the Games and in the diplomatically diffi cult demarche after the Games, Vargas was the central public fi gure in the Philippines. In both instances, as the newspapers of the day well evidence, he was the object of severe criticism for his seeming abject capitulation to the Japanese. In fact, of course, he was only following the path carved out for him behind the scenes by Quezon. And yet, seemingly, Quezon himself who, indeed, became Honorary President of the new Amateur Athletic Association of the Orient, bore none of the onus for Vargas’s unpopular actions. Thus, while Vargas was being pilloried by his attackers, Quezon’s stature and repute remained unsullied. The second point which I believe also emerges from this sequence of events is yet another indication of the unique colonial administra- tion of the United States. Certainly I can not imagine that any other colonial power could have or would have permitted the apparent freedom of action which the Filipinos had in this case. Even more surprising to me is the seeming American willingness to allow the Filipinos consistently to support the admission of Manchukuo to the Far Eastern Games, given the rigid American position of non-recognition based on the so-called Stimson Doctrine. Can anyone still doubt America’s “permissive colonialism”?

NOTES 1 The games had originated as the idea of the physical directors of the YMCAs in Manila and Shanghai, and the two men then organized the Far Eastern Athletics as Politics 33

Athletic Association with Japan, China, and the Philippines as members. From 1913 to 1927 Far Eastern Games were held every two years, then after 1930 every four years to alternate with the World Olympic Games. Before 1934 Games were held as follows: Manila: 1913, 1919, 1925; Shanghai: 1915, 1921, 1927; Tokyo: 1917, 1930; Osaka: 1923. 2 Tribune (Manila), March 20, 1934, p. 1. 3 Tribune , March 20, 1934, p. 1. 4 Japan Advertiser, February 28, 1934, p. 8. 5 Tribune , March 20, 1934, p. 1. 6 Tribune , March 20, 1934, p. 1. 7 Tribune , March 20, 1934, p. 1. 8 Tribune , March 20, 1934, p. 1. 9 Tribune , March 22, 1934. 10 This was in accord with Article IX Section (a) of the constitution of the Far Eastern Athletic Association: “Special meetings shall be called by the president at the request of two countries or of the competent committee.” 11 Tribune , March 28, 1934, p. 2. 12 Japan Advertiser, March 27, 1934, p. 8. 13 Japan Advertiser, April 11, 1934, p. 1. 14 Tribune , March 20, 1934, p. 1. 15 Quoted in Japan Advertiser, April 12, 1934, p. 1. 16 Quoted in Japan Advertiser, April 13, 1934, p. 1. 17 Quoted in Japan Advertiser, April 13, 1934, p. 1. 18 Quoted in Japan Advertiser, April 13, 1934, p. 1. 19 Quoted in Japan Advertiser, April 13, 1934, p. 1. 20 Japan Advertiser, April 14, 1934, p. 1. 21 Japan Advertiser, April 15, 1934, p. 1. 22 Herald (Manila), April 14, 1934, p. 1. 23 Japan Advertiser, April 16, 1934, p. 1. 24 Japan Advertiser, April 18, 1934, p. 1. 25 Japan Advertiser, April 18, 1934, p. 1. 26 Japan Advertiser, April 20, 1934, p. 12. 27 Japan Advertiser, April 22, 1934, p. 1. 28 Japan Advertiser, May 1, 1934, p. 1. 29 Japan Advertiser, May 8, 1934, p. 1. 30 Japan Advertiser, May 20, 1934, p. 1. 31 Bulletin (Manila), June 14, 1934. 32 Quoted in New York Times, May 22, 1934, pp. 41–42. 33 Quoted in New York Times, May 22, 1934, pp. 41–42. 34 Quoted in Japan Advertiser, May 25, 1934, p. 8. 35 Quoted in Japan Advertiser, May 25, 1934, p. 1. 36 Philippine Free Press, May, 1934. 37 Radiogram, May 22, 1934 in Papers of Manuel L. Quezon, National Library of the Philippines, Manila. 38 Quoted in Major W. H. Anderson, The Philippine Problem (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1939), p. 273. 2 Going for the Gold: Health and Sports in Japan’s Quest for Modernity

Barak Kushner

our days after the 11th Olympiad opened in Nazi managed Berlin Fon August 1, 1936 Japan’s Tokyo Imperial University ran an unusual advertisement in its school newspaper. Under a picture of four healthy- looking young adults, a popular brand of milk announced its bulky slogan, “Let’s Provide for the Future of ‘Healthy Japan’ with a Ratio- nal Foundation.” In slightly smaller font the caption proclaimed that Japan “should expect international superiority from our physique and health.” The appeal underscored the growing consensus that to develop into a strong nation Japan had to focus on the health and vitality of its population.1 Popular support and government sponsorship helped link a greater push to join in international sporting events with growing nationalism. The Japanese government’s increased concentration on individuals’ health and strength as a strategy to produce a more resilient and powerful nation reﬂ ected the variety of new health plans initiated by the government and social organizations during the late nineteenth century and the early decades of the twentieth century. Physical education programs in schools and on radio buoyed this national interest in health. The quest to host the Olympics was not a sudden push but rather a long-term desire to provide testimony to Japan’s imperial greatness. Flush with the news that Tokyo had been chosen as the site for the next Olympics following Berlin scheduled for the summer of 1940, the ﬁ rst ever in Asia, Japanese imperial subjects were ecstatic in their celebration of their successful campaign to woo the world of sports to their doorstep.2 Modern Japan had arrived and the international pantheon of nations had recognized Japan’s efforts. For the government in Tokyo and Japanese at large, the world of sports demonstrated where Japan excelled: in hygiene, nutrition, and, of course, imperial Going for the Gold 35

colonization, the three pillars of modernity. Imperial Japanese government concern with the health of the nation’s subjects was inextrica- bly linked to concern with Japan’s international image. Within this image the healthy imperial subject, and preferably one who was keen at shooting hoops or grappling on the mat, played an essential role. It does seem remarkable that the several dozen sovereign nations that chose Japan as the site for the 1940 Olympics selected a nation often portrayed as irrational in international diplomacy. This was the same Japan that summarily withdrew its seat from the League of Nations in 1933 and had already waged a four-year-long campaign for military control on the Chinese mainland. This Japan was none other than the so-called anti-urban, anti-West, anti-rational government that many labelled “a government by assassination,” in light of the many political and military coups that plagued the nation in the 1930s. Only months before the announcement of Japan as the Olympic host made international headlines, a major military coup (known as the 2–26 Incident) erupted in Tokyo, shutting the city down for days. Stability was only restored with the emperor’s intervention. There appear to have been two Japans at work here: the malicious Japan bent on dominating East Asia and the productive Japan many looked to as the harbinger of Asian modernity. Why did members of the international community vote for such a Japan? The short answer is that regardless of Japan’s naked aggression, foreign colonial powers found Japanese imperial strategies similar to their own. I do not want to overplay this notion but many visitors to Japan and its colonies, and this is well documented though often ignored, appreciated the Japa- nese, felt they were kind, attractive, and championed education. The Japanese also presented themselves “properly,” having ratcheted up their international protocol. What’s more, the Japanese were believed to be clean. This was an important feature in East Asia. A 1927 League of Nations report, the same group that a few years later produced the famous Lytton Report denouncing Japan’s machinations in Manchuria, observed of Koreans: “as a race they are fi ne in physique and have capable brains but they are indolent people and require rousing to action.”3 The report also noted that “until the country came under Japanese infl uence there was practically no sanitation” and little medical knowledge.4 From the outset of the Meiji Restoration in 1868, Japanese seized upon their nation’s own standards of health and hygiene as the most stable measure of modernity. Japan’s intense concern with public hygiene and health stemmed from its continued anxiety over how the West, and other Asian countries and colonies, perceived it. The Japanese government wished to present itself as a country apart from the rest of Asia, a sanitary country that was as strong and healthy as any European nation. This was still the case in the 1930s; in the magazine Contemporary Manchuria, Manchu children were photographed wearing clean school uniforms, performing drills on a large open, clean fi eld. The caption underneath them read, “Physical training constitutes one 36 The East Asian Olympiads of the three fundamental principles of education in Manchukuo, the other two being moral and intellectual.”5 Success at sports, a concrete example of the levels to which Japan’s strength and health rose, set a benchmark for international acclaim and prestige. Thus, the 1940 Olympics would prove irrefutably that Japan had entered the circle of modern nations. This view challenged the traditional British concept of imperial sport. For imperial Britain sport was a process to inculcate the colonial because “through sport were transferred dominant British beliefs as to social behaviour, standards, relations, and conformity, all of which persisted beyond the end of the formal empire, and with considerable consequences for the postcolonial order.”6 For Japan sports were, in actuality, a measure of its own colonial success. To be good at sports obviously required participants to be healthy and the 1930s was the apex of concern about national health. One of the most popular magazines delivered to the countryside, Ie no hikari (Homelight), constantly carried articles and advertisements dealing with improving the health of rural residents.7 From February to July 1936 the magazine published a series on the “Campaign to lessen the ranks of the sick by even one person.” In October of the same year the editors ran an article titled “Reestablishing a healthy Japan.”8 Even during the Pacifi c War, in 1942, the magazine published a special medical dictionary issue designed to help peasants weather health troubles.9 The Japanese believed a central element of training in culture and modernity arose through physical education. In a discussion regarding culture in the magazine Kaiz¯o, for example, several prominent Japanese writers lamented that Japanese cultural efforts abroad were ineffective. The problem, they decided, lay in a leadership that lacked coherent goals about what culture was supposed to achieve in the territories under Japanese control. The government displayed ambiguity about many of its cultural goals, while defi nitions of culture equally perplexed the population. Culture continued to be a slippery concept. Some intellectuals defi ned it as “something that consistently holds behavior to the goal of all human progress.”10 Another author echoed a common theme in Japanese discussions of culture and its origins when he noted that, “that which creates the source for culture is the spirit.”11 Whether the emphasis focused on progress or spirit, the government found it easy to merge concepts of health and hygiene with culture. Both promoted Japanese progress and both had a spiritual element. A proliferation of Japanese health goods sold throughout East Asia further solidifi ed Japan’s image as a healthy nation, one that would lead the sick and unhygienic masses of Asia on the path to modernity.12 Japanese cultural propagandist Aoki Shigeru, in the magazine East Asia Cultural Sphere, commented that the amount of products permeat- ing the colonies offered a perfect avenue for Japanese culture to gain ground abroad. He noted that the Japanese should accept the cultural and political signifi cance of commercial product infi ltration, with the Going for the Gold 37 understanding that good products in the colonies also made natives more dependent on the mother country.13 Japan’s initial infrastructure initiatives in its colonies were hygiene related and the products Japan promoted abroad, within its own hygiene policies, stemmed from historically fresh health concerns, mostly the rampant epidemics that early Meiji society had experienced.14 By the time Japan colonized Taiwan in 1895, Tokyo had already been imple- menting stringent domestic hygiene policies at a furious pace for almost twenty-fi ve years. When Taiwan became a colony of Japan it was known and feared primarily as a malarial backwater. The fi rst job of the governor general was to eradicate disease and make it safe for development.15 Immediate plans for sinking proper sewage pipes for Taipei, the capital of Taiwan, were undertaken in the late 1890s as soon as Japanese colonial offi cials arrived. Similar plans were also implemented in key Manchurian cities once acquired.16 As Japanese hygiene and sanitation improved at home, the Japanese focused more and more on China’s unsanitary conditions. In 1909 famed Japanese writer Natsume Soseki ¯ commented on China after he had returned from the continent and written Man-Kan tokoro dokoro (Here and there in Manchuria and Korea).17 At fi rst arrival in Manchuria the swarming, dirty masses of Chinese coolies waiting on the docks astounded Soseki. ¯ The coolies’ unsanitary appearance and unmannered demeanor shocked the well-known author and he reserved choice words for his lackluster impressions.18 After 1932, “travel writers on the whole began to assume a harsher, apparently less sympathetic attitude toward the Chinese people and Chinese problems in general.”19 On the other hand the Japanese were not the only ones reprimanding the Chinese for their seemingly sub-standard hygienic practices. After the turn of the century Chinese students who had studied abroad in Japan frequently counselled prospective exchange students how to behave in Japan, and often their advice focused on health and hygiene, though much of it also pertained to proper social etiquette in Japan. Students were admonished “Don’t spit just anywhere; don’t urinate just anywhere; don’t overshoot the toilet when urinating and defecating; don’t go around naked, even in the heat of the summer; don’t eat off the tatami mats after food has spilled; and keep your rooms neat and tidy.”20 The Japanese government identifi ed health and hygiene as features of modernity and recognized the need to include such programs in its colonial policies to demonstrate why Japanese rule was important. Soldiers returned from abroad convinced that Japan was cleaner, and thus more modern, than other Asian nations. A unity of national opinion concerning health and hygiene appeared to bolster Japan’s plan to modernize. A 1929 report from the Home Ministry’s Hygiene Bureau, forwarded from a fi eld investigation implemented by the Agriculture and Forestry Ministry’s hygiene section, revealed that inhabitants of the rural areas in Japan were signifi cantly smaller in all aspects as compared to their urban counterparts.21 Such defi ciencies had to be improved if Japan were to be on par with the West. 38 The East Asian Olympiads

Everything shifted in 1923 and the tragedy of the Great Kanto ¯ Earthquake provided the opportunity. The fl attened city provided a chance for authorities to redesign the urban plan to highlight the new capital city, in the same way offi cials planned to showcase the hygienic colonies. Pre-earthquake Tokyo was perhaps not the most majestic imperial city, as prewar author Nagai Kaf u¯ and others noted. Tokyo was transformed after September 1923, however, and one of the main individuals responsible for how modern Tokyo looked, at least until 1945, was Goto ¯ Shimpei.22 Goto ¯ was put in charge of rebuilding the capital into a new urban paradise and was provided a budget of 800 million Japanese yen, an astronomical sum in those days.23 Authori- ties wanted Tokyo to be the showpiece, not the cesspool, of East Asia. The problem was that the image of modern Japan abroad, or at least the one the government wanted to propagate, did not align completely itself with actual conditions. On rainy days Tokyo roads were mud pits, on dry days red fi elds of dust. The crux of the issue was that from Meiji onward Tokyo had exploded as a city but urban planning, and more importantly the key pieces of major infrastructure, had not kept pace with the expansion.24 One of the biggest problems was getting rid of the growing population’s effl uent, their urine and excrement. This problem so vexed Goto ¯ that he penned an offi cial memo to the city government and Diet entitled “How to deal with the feces and urine issue.” The memo described the problem of inadequate facilities in the city and how this caused signifi cant social and citywide health problems.25

THE PROPAGANDA VALUE OF THE OLYMPICS Imperial pageantry through the visual force of healthy sports is the context for understanding how the Japanese conceived of the Olym- pics as a form of propaganda and image building. Iriye Katsumi divides prewar physical education theory into two major camps. The philo- sophical split occurred around 1936, interestingly just around the time of the Berlin Olympics. From the early Taisho ¯ era until 1936, physical education programs were disorganized and not administrated under a single agency. The population, as a whole, did not readily practice sports or understand their value as a tool for building a strong nation. After 1936, political debates surrounding the physical prowess of the masses and how best to increase the strength of youth developed into a political issue. The government also passed more bureaucratic regulations concerning sports in an effort to control how the masses associated leisure with health related activities.26 In early August 1936 both the Asahi Shinbun and the New York Times ran articles quoting Prime Minister Hirota Koki ¯ stating that the choice of Tokyo for the Olympics should be “construed as the result of all countries of the world correctly understanding our nation.”27 What he meant was the West regarded Japan as the modernizer par excellence in Asia, as a nation that had overcome its feudal past without the assistance Going for the Gold 39 of a Western colonial power. The Olympics captivated the Japanese not only because of its association with modernity but also because they viewed the Olympics as a battleground devoid of bloodshed. The Asahi newspaper phrased it more eloquently, “Without killing even one person, fairly battling out a match within an aura of peace while honing the human fi ghting spirit, that is the Olympics!”28 And it was on this sacred fi eld of sports that Japan wished to complete its application to join the ranks of modern nations. Clearly the Olympics was not an apolitical event. In part, Japan was awarded the honor because Great Britain withdrew its London bid for the Games in the hopes of politically appeasing Japan. British diplomacy needed a strong and stable Japan, one that would maintain the balance of power in the Far East and not interfere with Britain’s own colonies. If Japan could be placated with the Olympics, the British rea- soned that the Japanese government could be effectively bullied into a less defi ant stance toward the West. The British remained convinced that Japan did not want to risk losing international stature if the West pulled out of the Olympics, and would therefore bend to Western political pressure.29 By 1936 Japan had already defi ed Britain and the West, asserting its military might in Asia and inserting its troops deep into China and Manchuria. While Japan had not yet fully embroiled itself in a prolonged war in China, it was on the verge of such a maneuver. As one member of Britain’s Foreign Offi ce characteristically understated in January 1936, months before the Olympic Committee chose Japan, “I would not reward Japan now when she has been naughty both in North China and at the Naval Conference, and I would be inclined to drop her a hint that if she wants the Olympics she must pay for them by good behaviour in the interval.”30

FOREIGN MINISTRY EFFORTS The internal battle in Japan to use the Olympics as a form of international propaganda began well before 1936. A June 10, 1932 memo from Tokyo City mayor Nagata Hidejiro ¯ to Foreign Minister Saito ¯ Minoru reveals that holding the 1940 Olympics in Japan corresponded perfectly with the planned anniversary of the mythical 2,600th anniversary of the founding of the country. The authorities conceived of the occasion as the prime opportunity to showcase Japan to foreigners, raise the level of national physical education, and “to fi ght against the hegemony of Western power in sports.” Nagata stated it was of the utmost urgency to raise awareness of the Olympics among Japanese countrymen for these purposes.31 The ministry drew up top secret propaganda plans for the 2,600th anniversary of Japan’s founding. The basic goals centered on promoting respect for the vision of the country’s national polity (kokutai) and Japan’s glorious history, along with a handful of other equally vague policies. Viscount Yamakawa Ken on January 14, 1937 engaged in correspondence with Ministry of Education offi cials about linking the 40 The East Asian Olympiads government’s life improvement campaigns (seikatsu kaizen undo¯) with the Olympics.32 The Foreign Ministry desired to instill in the minds of visitors admiration for Japan that they hoped would translate into international support for Japan. Offi cials encouraged transport staff to wear clean and proper uniforms and counselled businesses to have prices properly displayed. In inns with no Western facilities, at the very least make foreigners feel comfortable, they were told, and owners were directed to close doors to common rooms and to keep toilets and futons clean. “Don’t try and charge them higher prices for goods or services,” the government ordered.33 Another secret Ministry of Foreign Affairs document, a policy paper for the XIIth international Olympics, confi rmed that the games would be a valuable opportunity to educate foreigners and assist Western nations to comprehend the situation Japan faced in East Asia. None- theless, the paper stressed that the Olympics were not a time to engage in overt politics but a time for sports and for youth of the world to exchange and to improve relations. It was therefore necessary to ”absolutely avoid any and all propaganda with a political tinge,” offi cials wrote. The focus was to employ Japanese culture to address a correct foreign understanding of Japan. The document suggested emphasizing a few simple points to make foreign tourists aware of Japan: its scientifi c advancement, its kokutai or national polity, as well as the usual, that the Japanese were pretty, orderly, happy, led good lives, etc.34 Not everyone, however, was sanguine about the plans. A letter from a representative of the National Physical Education Association to Foreign Minister Hirota Koki ¯ on May 23, 1935 informed the Foreign Ministry that anti-Olympic opinions, opposed to holding the Olym- pics in Tokyo, were publicizing their cause. The opposition claimed that Italy was supposed to be the site of the XIIth Olympics but Mus- solini turned it over to Japan. The opposition leafl et claimed that bringing the Olympics to Japan would force into the open many of the problems related to the absence of international recognition for the new state of Manchukuo. Manchukuo, essentially Japan’s puppet kingdom in northeast China, had not been accepted by a vast majority of the international community so its population was not permitted to participate in the Olympic Games, following treaty rules. Opponents believed such confl ict would force the International Olympic Commit- tee, who would not recognize Manchukuo, and Japan into a dilemma that would not refl ect well for the country.35

THE SITES OF MODERNITY: HEALTH, HYGIENE, AND EMPIRE Japan in the 1930s witnessed a very different type of relationship between subject and state than had previously existed. As Kano Masanao relates, the shift from Tokugawa to Meiji was most prominent regarding the role of the individual within society. This attitude was particularly relevant since Japan was struggling to keep new diseases it could not deal with away from the population, even as foreign ships Going for the Gold 41 pushed their way into the new treaty ports around the country. Kano has conceived of three major junctures in Japanese conceptions of the individual within society: Meiji is labelled the “era of health,” early Showa ¯ is seen as the “era of physical strength,” and wartime Showa ¯ he calls “the era of the body.” Kano’s interpretation underscores the Japanese government’s anxiety over how to develop and maintain a strong population.36 The bureaucracy was equally concerned about hygiene and health and how both issues affected the country as a whole. In a 1933 report from the Home Ministry, Minister Yamamoto Tatsuo conveyed this anxiety, stating that “planning for the enrichment and diffusion of medical care relief, and dealing with the present emergency [political] situation, especially on the level of preserving the health of the nation’s subjects and on the level of relief is, I think, most crucial.”37 After decades of mounting pressure from the imperial armed forces, the Japanese government merged the various hygiene and health bureaus that had been under the disparate jurisdictions into a new Ministry of Health and Welfare in July 1937 (though not in operation until Janu- ary of 1938). Several tuberculosis epidemics had already plagued Japan in the 1930s, a fact that may have pushed the tipping point toward the establishment of a separate health ministry. By the time of the announcement of the 1940 Olympics the Japa- nese were sure of the need to improve imperial subjects’ physical stature for the nation to be successful. The goal was to build a shinkokumin, or new people, and Japan’s victory in being the site of the Olympics, in part, supported that achievement. Gold medals for sporting events provided a means to calibrate the successful implementation of these new programs. The Japanese themselves had high expectations for their Olympics. The Americans had stated that they felt the Japanese could be relied on to “go Berlin one better.” The Los Angeles Olympics had hosted the fi rst radio broadcast of an Olympics (though it was pre-recorded and not live), and the Berlin Olympics televised several of the fi nal events. Thus, a 1936 Chu ¯o ¯ Koron ¯ article asked, “at the Tokyo Olympics, what type of new thing will emerge? This Olympics’ arrival in Tokyo, which has mobilized science and culture through sports, if it isn’t the best thing for the sacred Showa ¯ era then I don’t know what is.”38 Japan’s technological modernity also leaped to the foreground with its participation in the Olympics. News concerning the Olympics was disseminated through the newspapers and radio. Radio broadcasts of Olympic feats brought the cheering frenzy to a fevered pitch. Pictures of friends sitting around listening and applauding public radios were frequently published in the press, further strengthening the collective notion of national support for Japan’s teams. In the countryside radio was a manifestation of modernity, particularly that of the state. Kuroda Isamu claims that the very concept of a state-led exercise program was precisely the Japanese government aim when it initiated its Radio Exercise (Rajio taiso) ¯ program in 1928. The original idea stemmed from government concepts of individual health providing the backbone of 42 The East Asian Olympiads a strong nation. Exercise radio looked to align leisure and health to service in the interest of the state.39 To strengthen popular perceptions of exercise and national strength, Japan did not miss the opportunity to broadcast from the massively orchestrated Berlin Olympic Games in 1936. The Japanese entourage included several radio broadcasters ready to provide live commentary to eager crowds listening halfway across the globe. Some sporting events were taped live to be sent back and played on the air at home. One notable highlight was the women’s 200-meter freestyle swimming event held on August 11, 1936. While the swimmer, Maehata Hideko, was a favorite, no one could foresee what a spectacular fi nish she would provide. The story is related in the annals of Japanese radio history as one of the more memorable live broadcasts of the century. 40 The normally truculent announcer, Kawanishi Sansei, provided the commentary. As the event neared completion there were only two swimmers in contention for the championship and as they began the last lap the crowd rose to its feet. Kawanishi had to climb onto a table to see over the heads of the spectators but he continued live on the air. As tension mounted, Kawanishi’s commentary became less detailed and louder until he was screaming Ganbatte, Ganbatte, “Go for it!,” over and over again. The Japanese swimmer Maehata won the event to the cheering announcers in the NHK booth overlooking the pool and to millions of fans back home. In the eventual analysis of Kawanishi’s broadcast, later pressed on records and sold in stores, it was calculated he shouted “Go for it!” thirty-eight times, and yelled “She won!” nineteen times in a live broadcast that only lasted three minutes.41 Swimmers were not the only Japanese athletes to excel. Japan also won the marathon and at the same time established a new world record. A broadcast of runner Son Kitei’s marathon victory was not transmitted but the story did make front page news in Japan and colonial Korea. Although he sported the Japanese fl ag on his jersey when he participated in the Olympics, Son was actually a Korean who later attended university in Tokyo. Nevertheless, at the time he was portrayed as a Japanese national and recognized as such by the international community since Japan managed Korea as its own colony. Koreans rejoiced over Son’s victory and many stated the victory proved Korea had not yet been physically subdued by Japan. One of the major dailies in Korea, Toa ¯ Nippo ¯ , printed a picture of Son with the Japanese fl ag insignia erased in the photograph. This image incensed the Gover- nor General of Korea who ordered the paper to suspend publication for six months.42 Kawashima Shiro, ¯ a noted Japanese military nutritionist, in his 1943 book on wartime Japanese nutrition touted Son’s diet and averred that the quality and nutrition of Japanese cuisine proved itself superior during the Berlin Olympics. Kawashima failed to mention Son’s country of origin was actually Korea and instead focused on the dubious yet often trumpeted prewar claim that a Japanese rice-based diet provided athletes with a more durable source of muscle energy through the blood sugar obtained from digested rice.43 Going for the Gold 43

CANCELLING THE OLYMPICS Unfortunately, Japan’s programs for showcasing its modern capital and colonial policies were not to be. Kido Koichi ¯ announced the cancellation in mid-July 1938 even though the government continued to worry about the negative propaganda value of its decision. Kido and other bureaucrats had discussed the political situation in China, which had already escalated beyond an “incident” into a full fl edged war. Japan’s early July 1937 invasion of the Chinese mainland, offi cials estimated, placed domestic affairs into too much turmoil, both fi nancially and militarily, to allow the Olympics to continue.44 Regardless of the decision to cancel, the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs continued to fret about what the outside world, particularly the United States, said about the cancellation. Japanese embassies and even consulates clipped and posted to Tokyo the smallest of articles concerning these issues. For example the Consul General in Portland, Oregon posted a folder of such items to Foreign Minister Ugaki Seiichi on June 28, 1938, regarding basic news stories that described the cancellation.45 Files forwarded from regional consulates in America to Ugaki on July 15, 1938 also detailed Japan’s intense concern with how termination of the Games affected its international reputation. Included in the fi les were clippings from various American newspapers which ran stories detailing that Japan had annulled the Games due to the disadvanta- geous war the military was conducting in China. The papers stated that this move was disappointing since the Japanese had long waited for the Olympics and as Japan isolated itself more the Games would have been a rare opportunity for exchange. A series of cables from consuls in America and embassies mostly in Europe complemented the news fi les and detailed what the local press was saying about why Japan called off the Olympics, namely that was it a question of money, the cost of waging war in China, or other reasons that could only be the subject of speculation.46 As fervent as Japan’s calls to host the Olympics may have been, the decision to cancel must have been crippling. Japan postponed its Olympic dreams in mid-1938 amidst worries over steel production and whether the government would be able to requisition the necessary amounts from military leaders. Was all that public discourse and planning for modernity—health, nutrition, and sports—mere lip service to national propaganda? As much as government bureaucrats may have touted building stronger national bodies, military plans for Japan’s wars demonstrate otherwise. Kano Masanao’s work on imperial soldiers, especially those in the infantry, highlights their treatment by offi cers as “expendable goods.”47 Fujiwara Akira calculates that “over half of the war casualties for the Japanese military were from starvation. This wasn’t some noble death resulting from a valiant struggle in the midst of battle. It was a tortuous death by sickness and starvation, dying in the thick of the jungle.”48 With the Olympic dream dead, so too disappeared offi cial concern for the health and safety of the nation. 44 The East Asian Olympiads

Although a modern Japan would not rise from the ashes of its defeat in 1945 for another quarter of a century, when it did Japan’s declaration of newfound modernity would once again take place in con- junction with the Olympics. Twenty-four years later, in 1964, Tokyo was once again chosen as the site for the Olympics and the similarities between the two events were palpable. The bullet train lines inaugu- rated on the eve of the 1964 Olympics were drafted from the same prewar plans that had had been proposed to champion the 1940 Olym- pics.49 Similarities between the plans for the two Olympics and what they represented are astounding. The Japanese government wished to use the occasion of the Olympics both in wartime and the postwar period to introduce Japan as a modern nation to other sovereign states. The health of the individual also rose to the forefront during the postwar Olympic years.50 In the early 1930s the Japanese parliament had passed the National Citizenry Physical Strength Law (kokumin tairyokuho ¯ ). The law aimed to promote better physical prowess among young men in order to strengthen the country.51 In 1964 the Japanese parliament once again focused on the physical strength of its inhabitants in order to gauge Japan’s modernity. During the late 1960s Japan touted its high rate of economic growth. In late 1964, as a means of demonstrating how economic prosperity had uplifted Japan back into the realm of modern nations, the government initiated a health and physical ﬁ tness campaign. This campaign’s goals duplicated those that the Japanese government espoused during the prewar period. Sports and recreation to strengthen the population, recreational activities that supported a strong spiritual upbringing, and a renewed focus on nutrition and ﬁ ghting diseases were its main policy objectives.52

CONCLUSION Japanese involvement in the Olympics and its participation as a host provide us with an opportunity to understand the ways in which Japan perceived itself as a modern nation in Asia. An examination of Japanese interest in the Olympics and the nation’s health also help us recognize continuities between prewar and postwar defi nitions of Japanese modernity. Ideas of Japanese modernity did not disappear after the Japanese surrender in 1945. Japan, as China has done much more recently, expended Her- culean efforts for both the 1940 Games that never happened and the 1964 Olympics. And yet already China seems more successful in its bid to link sports and national prosperity than Japan ever managed. T. J. Pempel, in his research on Japanese sports and nationalism, argues that Japan’s postwar economic and political success in the international arena have conspicuously not been mirrored on the sports fi eld. Japanese, to be sure, own golf courses, but they do not win matches. “Japan’s athletes have for the most part left only scant traces of their presence in competitive international athletics,” he writes.53 Over the Going for the Gold 45 longer term this might be less accurate though the criticism merits further analysis. An article in the New York Times, describing Japan’s rise among nations, detailed how Japan had fi rst appeared in the Olympics performing some strange side-stroke in the swimming events. Within a decade, due to “the smart race that they are,” Japan’s swimmers had risen to take fi rst in several events. Journalists remarked that the Japa- nese had “become very sports-minded.”54 Japan’s international stature now seems secure regardless of its ability to win international matches, and yet its path to modernity suggests that other nations still consider a winning team as a necessary ingredient for international prestige. China’s own rather extreme focus on the 2008 Games reminds us how sport continues to serve as a barometer for national prestige in the supposedly postmodern world.

NOTES 1 T o ¯ dai Shinbun, August 5, 1936. 2 Yoshimi Shunya, Hakurankai no seijigaku (Tokyo: Ch u¯ o ¯ ko ¯ ronsha, 1992), p. 259. Yoshimi talks about the entertainment and spectacle value of World’s Fairs. They were a form of propaganda for imperialism, a form of advertising for companies, and a form of mass entertainment all at the same time. We can clearly see elements of the same in the quest for the Olympics and not just during the prewar period. 3 A.R. Wellington, Hygiene and Public Health in Japan, Chosen and Manchuria: Report on Conditions Met during the Tour of the League of Nations Interchange of Health Offi cers (Kuala Lumpur: Federated Malay States Government Printing Offi ce, 1927), p. 39. 4 Wellington. Hygiene and Public Health in Japan, Chosen and Manchuria, p. 40. 5 “Cultural Activities in Manchuria,” Contemporary Manchuria (May 1938), p. 78. Japanese policies concerning health and hygiene did not always translate into effective policy on the continent. In fact, it remains doubtful what Japan’s real aim was in terms of health care in light of continued research into Japanese-sponsored drug trade during the war. For brief insight see John M. Jennings, The Opium Empire, Japanese Imperialism and Drug Traffi cking in Asia, 1895–1945 (Westport, CT: Praeger Publishers, 1997). 6 Brian Stoddart, “Sport, Cultural Imperialism, and Colonial Response in the British Empire,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 30:4 (October 1988), p. 651. 7 A debate concerning wartime Japan surrounds this magazine. Narita Ry u¯ ichi asserts that this magazine supports the thesis that Japan in the 1930s was anti-modern and agrarian. Itagaki Kuniko disagrees and cites a prevalence of modern technological advances trumpeted in the magazine, such as electric- ity, radio, new foods, etc., as notions that fed rural modernization efforts. See Itagaki Kuniko, Sho ¯ wa senzen, senj u¯ ki no no ¯ son seikatsu (Tokyo: Mitsumine shobo ¯ , 1992), p. v. 8 Itagaki, Sho ¯ wa senzen, senj u¯ ki no no ¯ son seikatsu, p. 137. 9 Itagaki, Sho ¯ wa senzen, senj u¯ ki no no ¯ son seikatsu, p. 139. 46 The East Asian Olympiads

10 Roundtable Discussion, “Ichinen no sh u¯ kaku,” Kaizo ¯ (December 1942), p. 139. 11 Roundtable Discussion, “Ichinen no sh u¯ kaku,” p. 142. 12 Karl Gerth, China Made: Consumer Culture and the Creation of the Nation (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2003) and Sherman Cochran, Chinese Medicine Men and Consumer Culture in China, 1880–1956 (Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 2006) discuss this national competition of consumer products and boycotts, often aimed at Japanese exports. See also Ruth Rogaski on the topic of hygiene in China and Japanese inﬂ uence, Hygienic Modernity: Meanings of Health and Disease in Treaty-Port China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004). 13 Aoki Shigeru, “Sho ¯ hin no shinto ¯ to bunka seisakuteki igi,” To ¯ a bunkaken (June 1942). For insight into the proliferation of Olympic-related products entering the markets, see Takada Mamoru, “Sho ¯ bai Orinpikku 1940-nen ni sonaeyo,” Ch u¯ o ¯ ko ¯ ron (September 1936). 14 Cholera ran rampant through early Meiji Japan. At the Dresden International Hygiene World’s Fair, Japan exhibited a pavilion showing how it met the cholera challenge and lessened patient numbers, was a hygienic country, and therefore worthy of being an advanced and imperial nation. Ono Yoshiro ¯ , “Teikoku no eisei—eisei ko ¯ gaku kara kankyo ¯ gaku e,” in Tanaka Ko ¯ ji, ed., Iwanami ko ¯ za, Teikoku Nihon no gakuchi, Vol. 7, Jitsugaku toshite no kagaku gijutsu (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2006), p. 222. 15 Tsurumi Y u¯ suke, (Ketteiban) Seiden Goto ¯ Shimpei, Vol. 3, Taiwan jidai, 1898– 1906 (Tokyo: Fujiwara shoten, 2005), (Revised reprint of original biography), p. 431. 16 Ono, “Teikoku no eisei—eisei ko ¯ gaku kara kanky o ¯ gaku e,” p. 234. 17 Joshua Fogel provides a brief description of the book in The Literature of Travel in the Japanese Rediscovery of China, 1862–1945 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996), pp. 252–253. 18 Natsume So ¯ seki, “Mankan tokoro dokoro,” Natsume So ¯ seki zensh u¯ , Vol. 12 (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 1994), pp. 234–235. 19 Fogel, The Literature of Travel in the Japanese Rediscovery of China, p. 276. 20 Douglas R. Reynolds, China, 1898–1912, The Xinzheng Revolution and Japan (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), pp.62–63. The list of “don’ts” ended with a rather peculiar inclusion, which was “don’t fool around with the maids.” Whether this was to maintain propriety or had to do with concerns of venereal disease remains unclear. 21 Shimizu Katsuyoshi, No ¯ son hoken eisei jicchi ch o ¯ sa (Tokyo: Fuji shuppan, 1990), (reprint of 1929 Naimusho ¯ eiseikyoku records), p. 127. 22 Got o ¯ was the archetypal Meiji imperialist and hygienist. His resumé included studying medicine abroad, assisting wiping out disease in colonial Taiwan, serving as president of the South Manchurian Railway Company, Tokyo Mayor, Foreign Minister, Home Minister, and other high level posts. Goto ¯ Shimpei’s own career and success was almost synonymous with Japan’s imperial rise. 23 Tsurumi Y u¯ suke, Seiden Goto ¯ Shimpei, Vol. 7, Tokyo shicho ¯ jidai 1919–1923, ketteiban (Tokyo: Fujiwara shoten, 2005), p. 370. 24 Tsurumi, Seiden Goto ¯ Shimpei, Vol. 7, p. 371. Going for the Gold 47

25 Tsurumi, Seiden Goto ¯ Shimpei, Vol. 7, pp. 539–540. 26 Iriye Katsumi, Nihon fashizumuka no taiiku shiso ¯ (Tokyo: Fumaido ¯ sha, 1986), p. 34. 27 The quote is from the Asahi Shinbun of August 1, 1936; a slightly different English version was quoted in a similar article in the New York Times, August 2, 1936. 28 Asahi Shinbun , August 2, 1936 (Tokyo edition). 29 Martin Polley, “Olympic Diplomacy: The British Government and the Pro- jected 1940 Olympic Games,” The International Journal of Sport 9.2 (August 1992), pp. 170–176. For a full picture of the process leading to this conclusion, see Sandra Collins, The 1940 Tokyo Games: The Missing Olympics: Japan, the Asian Olympics and the Olympic Movement (London: Routledge, 2008). In Japanese see Takahashi Kazuo, Maboroshi no Tokyo Orinpikku (Tokyo: Nihon ho ¯ so ¯ shuppan kyo ¯ kai, 1994). 30 As quoted in Polley, “Olympic Diplomacy,” p. 176. 31 I-1.12.09–1 (vol. 2), Kokusai Orinpikku (located in the Nihon gaiko ¯ shiryo ¯ kan, hereafter NGS). 32 Viscount Yamakawa Ken from Monbusho ¯ shakai kyo ¯ iku kyokucho ¯ on January 14, 1937 to Gaimu jikan Horisuke, I-1.12.09–1 (vol. 4), Kokusai Orinpikku (NGS). 33 Viscount Yamakawa Ken from Monbusho ¯ shakai kyo ¯ iku kyokucho ¯ on January 14, 1937 to Gaimu jikan Horisuke, I-1.12.09–1 (vol. 4), Kokusai Orinpikku (NGS). 34 I-1.12.09–1 (vol. 3), Kokusai Orinpikku, Secret document, Dai 12-kai sekai “Orinpikku” taikai in taisuru ho ¯ shian (NGS). 35 Letter from the representative of the Kokumin taiiku do ¯ shikai to Foreign Min- ister Hirota Ko ¯ ki, on May 23, 1935, I-1.12.09–1 (vol. 2), Kokusai Orinpikku (NGS). 36 Kano Masanao, “Momotaro ¯ sagashi—kenko ¯ kan no kinka,” in Rekishi o yominaosu, Vol. 23 (Tokyo: Asahi, 1995), p. 5. 37 Naimush o ¯ shi, Vol. 4 (Tokyo: Taigakai, 1971), p. 592. 38 Sagita Naruo, “Tokyo e Orinpikku ga kuru made,” Ch u¯ o ¯ ko ¯ ron, September, 1936, p. 323. 39 Kurada Isamu, “Rajio taiso ¯ to kenko ¯ kyanpeinu,” in Tsuganezawa Toshihiro, ed. Kindai Nihon no media ibento, Dobunkan, 1996, p. 92. 40 Robin Kietlinski’s article in this volume provides a fuller account of the event and Maehata in general. 41 Sawaki Ko ¯ taro ¯ , “Nachisu Orinpikku – wareware wa kaku arasotta,” Bungei shunj u¯ , (August 1976), p. 246. 42 Sawaki, “Nachisu Orinpikku,” p. 244. The author also claims that in 1936, when asked by a foreigner for his autograph, Son Kitei wrote “Korea” by his name. 43 Kawashima Shiro ¯ , Kessenka no Nihon shokuryo ¯ (Tokyo: Asahi shinbunsha, 1943), pp. 32–33. 44 Kido Ko ¯ ichi, Kido Ko ¯ ichi nikki, gekan (Tokyo: Tokyo daigaku shuppankai, 1966), p. 657. 45 I-1.12.09–1 (vol. 5), Kokusai Orinpikku, Letter from Consul General in Portland, Oregon Yoshida to Foreign Minister Ugaki Seiichi, June 28, 1938, regarding news concerning the 1940 Olympics (NGS). 48 The East Asian Olympiads

46 I-1.12.09–1 (vol. 5), Kokusai Orinpikku, Letter from regional consulate in United States to Foreign Minister Ugaki on July 15, 1938 concerning cancellation of games (NGS). 47 Kano Masanao, Heishi de aru koto—do ¯ in to j u¯ gun seishinshi (Tokyo: Asahi shinbunsha, 2005), p. 233. 48 Fujiwara Akira, Uejinishita eireitachi (Tokyo: Aoki shoten, 2001), p. 142. 49 I highlight the role trains and tourism (and the bullet train) played in wartime Japanese propaganda in Barak Kushner, The Thought War: Japanese Imperial Propaganda (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2005). 50 For a brief but nostalgic comparison of the 1936 and 1964 Tokyo Olympic preparations, see Yanagita Kunio, “Berurin Tokyo Orinpikku mahi,” Shiso ¯ no kagaku, No. 30 (September, 1964), pp. 66–71. 51 K o ¯ seisho ¯ goj u¯ nenshi henshuînkai, Ko ¯ seisho ¯ goj u¯ nenshi, Vol. 1 (Tokyo: Ch u¯ o ¯hoki shuppan, 1985), pp. 347–348. 52 K o ¯ seisho ¯ goj u¯ nenshi henshuînkai, Ko ¯ seisho ¯ goj u¯ nenshi, Vol. 1, p. 1112. 53 T. J. Pempel, “Contemporary Japanese Athletics: Window on the Cultural Roots of Nationalism-Internationalism,” in The Culture of Japan as Seen though Its Leisure, ed. Sepp Linhart and Sabine Frühstuck (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998), p. 120. 54 New York Times, August 1, 1936. 3 When Athletes Are Diplomats: Competing for World Opinion at the Tokyo Olympiads

Jessamyn R. Abel

rom the time of Japan’s earliest participation in the Olympics, F athletes sent abroad for the Games were prized for more than their athletic abilities. Their capacity to create a positive impression of Japan among the people they met during their travels was equally important, in the eyes of the Japanese Olympic Committee members. From Japan’s fi rst Olympic appearance, in 1912 at the Fifth Olympiad in Stockholm, through the recent bid for a second Tokyo Games in 2016, Japan’s Olympians—young, strong, and always good sports—have been seen as ambassadors in a “people’s diplomacy” that could augment the more formal activities of foreign policy professionals—mostly older, probably weaker, and not always seen as fair players. One of the originators in Japan of this kind of sports diplomacy was Kano¯ Jigoro¯, an educator and athlete who pioneered the Japanese Olympic movement and was a member of the International Olympic Committee from 1909 until his death in 1938. Kano¯ described the careful process of selecting athletes for Japan’s Olympic debut, in which the committee considered not only an individual’s athletic prowess, but also his social status, level of education, and community standing. “If we are going to send athletes to foreign countries at all,” he wrote, “then it is not enough that they be strong in sports competitions. Because it would be a problem to send people who did not have a suitable upbringing, we specifi ed that they should live up to the status of student or gentleman, should have had schooling beyond middle school, or otherwise should be a military man or a member of a youth group with the recommendation of their mayor, town manager, or village head.”1 In keeping with the notion of the Olympics as a kind of “people’s diplomacy” (kokumin gaiko¯), offi cials sought to ensure that athletes would show off the best aspects of their country. Only youth 50 The East Asian Olympiads with the proper upbringing and education were considered capable of performing the role of the people’s diplomat. At the time of the 1936 Berlin Olympics, the head of the Japan Amateur Sports Association (which Kano¯ had founded in 1911) expressed similar concerns about the manners and cultivation of athletes being sent to Germany for the Games.2 Even individuals concerned primarily with athletics were well aware of the diplomatic impact of participation in the Olympic Games. In the 1930s, Japan’s withdrawal from the League of Nations and Western criticism of its escalating aggression in China heightened anxiety about Japan’s international position and reinforced the need to explore various methods for improving relations with the Western powers. The failure of regular diplomatic channels inspired a turn from the political to the cultural. Participation in the Olympic Games, especially the drive to host the 1940 Games in Tokyo, was one avenue through which political leaders sought to infl uence Japan’s international relations and global status. As Sandra Collins has shown, diplomats were closely involved in the bid for a Tokyo Olympiad.3 And once the bid was won, the Olympics themselves were made to serve Japan’s diplomatic goals. Politicians, diplomats, and leaders in the sporting world viewed the Olympics as a venue for people’s diplomacy, which would build international understanding, trust, and respect for Japan at a time when military aggression in China and the increasing militarization of domestic politics was damaging the image of Japan among the world powers. Japanese leaders hoped that greater “understanding” of Japan, especially in the West, would translate into support for Japanese actions in Asia. In this sense, the campaign and planning for the Tokyo Olympics can be called imperialist internationalism. Two factors gave the Olympics such ripe potential for people’s diplomacy: their supposedly apolitical nature and their increasing popularity around the world. Although it has become commonplace for scholars to note that the Olympics have always been political, the perception that sports could (or should) transcend politics made them particularly attractive for this purpose. Because the Olympics were theoretically separated from politics, they were an ideal venue for international cooperation for Japan, whose aggression on the continent had been condemned by the other powers. In addition, the fact that the Olympics were seen as being apolitical actually opened them up to political use by a broad range of interests, from internationalists promoting peaceful cooperation to ultranationalists trying to clear the way for Japanese expansion. The myth of the absence of politics creates an empty signifi er. Because the powerful symbol of the Olympics has no set political meaning, it can be used for almost any political purpose. In addition, the growing worldwide popularity of sport in general and the Olympic Games in particular meant that the world’s attention would focus on the host. There was a sense among Japanese internationalists that the ultimate source of Japan’s diplomatic problems was a lack of familiarity with Japan in the Western powers. The Olympics were seen as an ideal When Athletes Are Diplomats 51 venue for promoting knowledge of Japan and Japanese culture because they attract so many people. The effort to introduce Japan combined two approaches with one common goal. Some people wanted to introduce Japanese culture. The idea behind such efforts was that once they had experienced Japanese culture fi rst-hand, foreigners would come to know and love Japan, and therefore understand why Japan should be the leader of Asia. Others planned to display Japan’s strength and international prestige. The goal of these efforts was to inspire fear and respect for Japan, thereby, again, making foreign visitors understand why Japan should be the leader of Asia. Both involved what one Olympic scholar has termed “ethnocen- tric cosmopolitanism,” the appropriation of Olympic internationalism into particular national cultures and toward nationalistic impulses and ambitions.4 Both approaches revolved around demonstrations of the “Japanese spirit.” This vague term was directed toward a variety of goals. Some who used it simply wished to display unique aspects of Japanese culture, for instance in art, architecture, and history. Others used the idea of a Japanese spirit to link nationalist concepts such as bushido¯, or the warrior’s way, to internationalism, sportsmanship, and other features of the Olympic movement. Kano¯ Jigoro¯ explained his motivation to push for Japanese participation in the Olympics, which were at the time an entirely Western affair, as a desire to unify the Olympic spirit with the Japanese spirit of bushido¯. Stating, “I wanted to make the Euro- American Olympics into the world Olympics by imbuing them with the Japanese spirit. . . . I hoped to see the Olympic spirit and the warrior spirit entirely united,” Kano¯ identifi ed the Japanese warrior spirit as entirely compatible with the international Olympic spirit, to the point that they could be made one.5 For Kano¯, to add a Japanese spirit to the Olympics meant making the Games truly international. Other demonstrations of the “Japanese spirit” seemed to be more politically motivated. The Tokyo Metropolitan Government’s offi cial post-mortem of the planning for and cancellation of the 1940 Games, published in 1939, listed the city’s reasons for wishing to host the Olympics. Offi cials involved in planning the event stated that it would be “a golden opportunity to gain recognition of … the Japanese spirit of the eight corners of the world under one roof (hakko¯ ichiu).” This use of the concept of hakko¯ ichiu—a major rhetorical icon of wartime Japanese imperialism whereby the Japanese empire would extend to all corners of the world—is evidence of the imperialist goals behind the internationalist rhetoric surrounding the planning of the 1940 Games. The planners would “invite the youthful representatives of every nation to Japan to bring them into contact for the fi rst time with our native culture (fu¯do bunka) and let them experience the lifestyle of the Japa- nese people.”6 Foreigners, they hoped, would then understand—and accept—the spirit behind Japan’s expansionist activities, purported to be one not of aggression but of brotherhood and regional cooperation. As these activities were the source of great tension in Japan’s relations 52 The East Asian Olympiads with the Western powers during the years of planning for the Games, Japanese Olympic planners and pundits viewed the Games as a way of presenting Japan and its regional role in a way that might create sympathy for Japan’s goals among the people of Europe and the United States. As much enthusiasm as there was for the Olympics and their potential to bring positive benefi ts to Japan in realms far removed from the sports world, there was also some anxiety about the various ways in which Olympic diplomacy might backfi re. Discussions of the Tokyo Olympics often expressed a concern that the Japanese people would not measure up physically to their competitors from other countries. More optimistically, Olympic advocates cited a recent decline of the Japanese physique as a problem that the Games could remedy by raising interest in exercise.7 The discussion of the Japanese physique would also take the form of social criticism. Some on the political left phrased their discussion of the national body as a critique focusing on the poor health and nourishment of the Japanese masses. The socialist feminist Yamakawa Kikue warned that the focus on the Olympics resulted in an unhealthy obsession with competition and specifi c athletes, rather than broader physical training of all people, and predicted that this would exacerbate the recent decline in the physical condition of the Japanese people.8 Oka Kunio (a leftist historian of science who would cease to write for the duration of the war after his arrest in 1938) celebrated the opportunity to host the Olympics. But at the same time, he expressed concern about the capability of Japanese athletes to perform well in the competitions: “As a Japanese person, of course I feel joy at the decision to open the XIIth Olympics in Tokyo. But what we must not forget is, fi rst, Japan currently faces the problem that the physical condition of young men (so¯ tei) has declined in recent years. Second, no athlete with the honor of breaking a record is born from a class of undernour- ished children.”9 Oka’s use of the word so¯ tei, which is translated here as “young men” but also means “conscripts,” is telling. It is impossible to determine whether or not he intended a double meaning, but it does highlight the fact that the physical condition of the populace is a particular problem for a nation involved in ongoing war. In the 1930s, the weakness of young Japanese men held signifi cance not only for the national Olympic team, but also for the condition of the country’s military forces. In Japan, as in many countries around the same time, concern about the physical condition of military recruits prompted state involvement in sports, lending sports an increasingly military fl avor.10 In fact, the war with China was often cited as a reason for the importance of the role the Olympics might have in improving the Japanese physique. Writing on July 30, 1938, just two weeks after the cabinet decision to cancel the Games, NHK president Shimomura Kainan, who would later serve in Japan’s last wartime cabinet, held up Germany as an example of how the Olympics could have contributed to the strengthening of the nation. “Why is France, which won the European When Athletes Are Diplomats 53

Great War, pushed around by Germany? Because Germany, where the decline in physique had meant that even children’s bones were weak, had its people work towards an improvement in physique through sports. . . . The improvement was clear at the Berlin Olympics. . . . We also have to improve our physique and display sportsmanship, especially as the current situation and resistance [namely, the war with China] drags on.”11 Improved strength and sportsmanship, Shimomura implied, could be parlayed into victory in China and the sympathy of the other powers of the world. Under deteriorating international conditions, athletes were viewed simultaneously as diplomats in the global arena and as models for soldiers at the front. While Olympic teams being sent abroad could be carefully selected, taking into consideration the education and upbringing of each athlete, bringing the Games to Tokyo meant a loss of control over who participated in the people’s diplomacy of the Olympics. This event was seen as a good opportunity to create international connections and good impressions at the grass-roots level precisely because it would draw not only the world’s athletes, but also hordes of foreign tourists to Tokyo, its environs, and perhaps other parts of Japan. The expected infl ux of foreign visitors would draw the residents of Tokyo into this popular diplomatic corps. The exhortatory literature that appeared during the years of Olympic planning reveals apprehension over potential embarrassment. In addition to admonishing the Japanese people to “be self- conscious of Japan’s position and, comprehending the spirit of athletic competition, not allow descent into a degenerate frame of mind,”12 observers urged organizers to proceed carefully with preparations in order to avoid “scandal,” “national disgrace,” or “the contempt of European and American foreigners.”13 While some looked forward to the Tokyo Olympics as an opportunity to display the best of Japan, others approached the event anxiously, fearing that a poor showing— not only by the athletes, but also by the event’s organizers, the general public, even the capital city itself—would reveal their country’s inferi- ority. Both sides saw the Games as an important event in determining Japan’s stature in the international community. Along with calls to make foreign visitors feel comfortable during their visit to Tokyo, the Japanese people were urged to show sportsmanship, civility, and dignity. 14 Inumaru Tetsuzo¯, general manager and later president of Tokyo’s famous Imperial Hotel, revealed his professional concerns in wishing to welcome foreign visitors to Tokyo for the Olympics: “I believe this is a good opportunity to show the shape of a Japan that has leapt forward in the world. My hopes are for our stores to manufacture good products; for the people to be determined in maintaining strong morals and public morality so as to be respected by foreigners. Not just those in the service trade, but all the people of the city generally should aim to welcome visitors from afar.”15 For Inumaru and others like him, the Olympics were an opportunity to make a good impression on people coming to Japan for the fi rst, and perhaps the only time. They hoped that honesty in everyday transactions, civility 54 The East Asian Olympiads in casual meetings, and morality in public settings would show how Japan had advanced in recent years and would force foreign visitors to re-evaluate the negative impressions left by Japanese aggression in China and other international political and economic disputes. In addition, the Olympics would put not just the people of Tokyo on display, but the city itself. Many were concerned that Tokyo would not prove, under close scrutiny, to be fi tting as the capital of a great power. Writers looking forward to the 1940 Olympics called Tokyo “a shabby place,”16 and worried that with its cramped scale and lack of a proper sewage system, which left the city “rampant with mosquitoes and fl ies,” it would strike foreign visitors as “the city of an uncivilized country.”17 Such an impression could only damage Japan’s international position, which many clearly saw as still tenuous. Suzuki Bunshiro¯, a journalist with the Asahi shinbun, a major daily newspaper, wrote: “The streets of Tokyo are, in a word, a mess; even the center does not have a sewer system, and stinking canal water is not so much fl owing as stagnating between blocks. The things that stand out in the city are cheap sign- boards in need of a paint job, a forest of telephone poles like a scorched mountainside, indecent cafés, countless pubs, and so on.”18 Though he took a jaundiced view of the city as it was, Suzuki anticipated the Games optimistically as an impetus for physical improvements to the landscape and infrastructure of Tokyo. In preparation for expected tens of thousands of foreign visitors, Suzuki urged that they must “fi rst of all expose everything that is not international” then focus on beauti- fying the rest of the city.19 Others called for the building of museums and libraries, in addition to making improvements to the basic infrastructure, such as widening the roads and completing a sewer system. 20 Commentators concerned with the long-term effects on the city entreated planners to avoid frivolous celebration and concentrate on “lasting facilities,” to “build for the future, not just a festival bash.”21 In this way, Olympic advocates hoped to impress foreign visitors, fi rmly establishing Tokyo as the fi rst-rate capital of a great power. Tokyo’s fi rst effort at Olympic diplomacy turned out to be a false start. In spite of calls to maintain the separation between sport and politics, movements to boycott the Games in protest against Japanese aggression in China were growing in Great Britain and the United States. In Japan, the increasing scarcity of resources brought into question the completion of facilities for hosting the Games. Although proponents of people’s diplomacy warned of dire consequences if Japan were to cancel the Games, on July 15, 1938, the Cabinet announced that, given the need for all resources to be directed towards the war in China, Tokyo would be unable to host the Olympics in 1940. Cancellation of the Olympics was not, however, the end of Olympic-style internationalism in Japan. Rather, the rhetoric of sports diplomacy was redirected to a regional arena, focusing on the East Asian Games that were held in Tokyo in lieu of the Olympics in the summer of 1940. Considering the approaching East Asian Games, journalist Sagita Shigeo sounded many of the themes that had fi lled the thousands of pages anticipating the When Athletes Are Diplomats 55

Olympics: “The youth of the countries of East Asia will have a friendly sporting exchange, and will eventually develop a deep mutual understanding, which will have a positive infl uence in the areas of politics, economics, and diplomacy. . . . We must make them recognize Japan anew from the perspective of sports by showing the excellence of our sports culture and the dignifi ed attitude of our athletes.”22 Although Sagita’s international hopes for the Asian Games were directed towards the countries of East Asia, he evaluated their potential in much the same way as he and others had earlier viewed the Olympics. In both cases, supporters saw the Games as much more than a sports event, offering potential benefi ts in various areas of foreign relations through the development of mutual understanding between the peoples of Japan and participating countries. Hosting the Games, the argument went, would bring recognition of Japan’s position in the region and respect for its people.

THE OLYMPIC SPECTACLE OF 1964 The connection between sports and diplomacy advocated in the late 1930s resurfaced two decades later with the announcement that the XVIIIth Olympiad would be held in Tokyo in 1964. The use of sports competitions to present a certain image abroad and promote good relations with other countries proved to be equally compelling in the postwar environment. People’s diplomacy through sports comes to the fore when regular diplomatic channels are blocked or attenuated. In the 1930s, the League of Nations had ceased to be a useful route for Japan. At the start of the bid for the 1964 Games, Japan remained outside of most formal international organizations, including, most signiﬁ cantly, the United Nations. The Olympics, perhaps because of their purported apolitical nature, provided an entry-point for Japan to rejoin the international community. Tokyo’s second bid for the Olympics began in 1952, the year the Occupation ended. As in the 1930s, Japan was trying to rebuild its connections to the international community, though in 1952 people’s diplomacy was being deployed to repair a much more profound rupture than the split with the League of Nations that helped drive the push for the 1940 Olympics. This was, of course, a very different time in Japa- nese and world history, but the hopes and ambitions attached to the postwar Games were strikingly similar to those that spurred Olympic advocates in the 1930s. The Japanese mass media discussion surrounding the 1964 Games echoed the discourse of the 1930s in many ways. Writers often explicitly referenced the forfeited 1940 Olympics. For example, journalist Saito¯ Masami called the 1964 Games the fruition of a thirty-two-year bid for the Olympics that began in Los Angeles in 1932.23 As in the 1930s, supporters anticipated the Tokyo Games as a way to introduce a “new Japan” to the world, although this time instead of a military power, they hoped to display a “peaceful nation” (heiwa kokka) and a 56 The East Asian Olympiads

“cultural nation” (bunka kokka). At both times, much was made of these being the ﬁ rst Games to be held in Asia, thereby making the Olympics truly international. And in both the militaristic 1930s and the democratic 1960s, hosting the Olympics was presented as an opportunity not only to showcase Japan’s internationalism and its modern industry and economy, but also to introduce its traditional culture in the hope of building greater international understanding and respect for Japan. But on the reverse side of the diplomatic potential presented by hosting the Olympic Games was the risk of failure. The promise and threat of Olympic diplomacy discussed in anticipation of both the XIIth and the XVIIIth Olympiads was captured by Kiyokawa Masaji, a swimmer who won a gold medal at the 1932 Games in Los Angeles and participated in some capacity in every Olympiad for the next several decades. In a 1963 collection of his essays, Kiyokawa stated:

This is a rare golden opportunity to introduce to the people of the world Japan’s appearance, especially the reality of the reborn, peace- loving new Japan, the real appearance of we Japanese, and the level of the Japanese culture and economy. If the “Tokyo Olympics” are carried out magniﬁ cently, the estimation of Japan by the people of the world will go up even more.

After this very optimistic evaluation of the potential of the Olympics to raise Japan’s international stature, he then continued with a warning: “But, in contrast, if the ‘Tokyo Olympics’ end in failure, that will mean not only the embarrassment of the Japanese sports world in front of the world’s sports people, but also that the entire nation of Japan will become a laughing-stock and lose the world’s confi dence.”24 The same elements that made the Olympics so useful in terms of diplomacy— their ability to draw international attention and lure foreign visitors to Japan—also made them a potential liability. Taking diplomacy out of the hands of professionals created new avenues for improving international relations, but it also increased the chance of failure. In spite of the numerous connections and similarities between these two Olympic moments, however, planning for and anticipation of the 1964 Games was in many ways markedly different. One of the biggest differences was the role of live television broadcasts. New technology brought important changes to the use of the Olympics for international public relations. As Christian Tagsold has noted, “TV fostered new modes of following events and at the same time spread unifi ed symbols of national identity.”25 Images of Tokyo and Olympic internationalism were disseminated immediately and all the way to the grassroots—not just to people who could actually make the trip to Tokyo, but even to the multitudes who would watch the Games on television. Within Japan, watching sports had been a major impetus behind television purchases from the start. Already on the rise, television purchases continued to increase as the Tokyo Games approached. By 1963, about four out of fi ve Japanese households owned television sets.26 The broadcast When Athletes Are Diplomats 57 of the Games on television broadened the audience far beyond those who purchased tickets and physically entered the venues. Literary critic Kobayashi Hideo confessed his own obsessive viewing of the televised Olympics: “Having promised to record my thoughts, I have spread out some writing paper, but every day I do nothing but watch Olympic television. This is the fi rst time I have watched television so passion- ately.”27 Kobayashi conjectured that many other Japanese were, like him, fi nding it diffi cult to tear themselves away from the television screen. It was precisely this kind of diffi culty that would make the televised images of the Olympics so important for cultural diplomacy. Of course, the signifi cance of television in terms of people’s diplomacy is that it was not just for the Japanese. The images broadcast from the 1964 Tokyo Olympics were the fi rst of an international sporting event to be carried by satellite around the world to the United States and Europe. The Japanese government, along with the Olympic Orga- nizing Committee, cooperated with NASA in the United States to facilitate the early launch of a satellite that would be in proper position to broadcast the Games to the Western hemisphere.28 This technological development led to an even greater sense that the world would be watching. A second important difference affecting postwar Olympic diplomacy revolved around the supposedly dismal state of the Japanese sports world. After drawing a connection between Tokyo’s fi rst winning Olympic bid and the one at hand, journalist Saito¯ Masami noticed a comparative lack of excitement about the 1959 announcement of the IOC’s selection of Tokyo for the XVIIIth Games. He claimed that this was due, in part, to a sense that Japanese athletes had no chance of winning in 1964.29 Japanese athletes had surprised the world in Los Angeles in 1932, ranking fi fth in the count of total gold medals per nation with seven wins. The male swimmers, in particular, were the focus of celebration, dominating the competition in most events and sweeping the 100-meter backstroke. This was seen at the time as having had a positive impact on U.S.-Japan relations by improving American opinions of Japan and reducing anti-Japanese racism.30 The Japanese team followed with a strong performance in Berlin in 1936. In contrast, Japanese athletes had not performed well in the postwar Games. Having been excluded from the 1948 London Games, Japan made its postwar debut in Helsinki in 1952, where the team won only one gold medal, for a seventeenth-place overall ranking. At the following Games in Melbourne, the team improved only slightly to tenth place with four gold medals. Japan inched up to an eighth-place ranking at the 1960 Rome Olympics, though still with only four gold medals. Some Japanese expressed concern that a poor showing by Japa- nese athletes would have signifi cance beyond the playing fi elds. For instance, the former Olympic swimmer Kiyokawa warned that Japanese athletes must produce results of which a “host country” would not be ashamed.31 As it turns out, concerns about performance were not borne out; the Japanese team ranked third in 1964, garnering sixteen 58 The East Asian Olympiads golds. Regardless of the eventual performance of Japanese athletes, this anxiety displays a concern for how the team looks to foreign observers. The fear of failure on the playing fi elds was as much about a desire for Olympic gold in and of itself as it was about a hope for Japanese athletes to appear as skillful, dexterous, and strong as athletes from the other major powers. The result of these two factors—the positive factor of broadcasting the event to the world combined with the negative factor of concern about the performance of Japanese athletes—was that the diplomatic function of the Olympics focused not on individuals, such as athletes or the residents of Tokyo, but rather on broadcast images and perceptions of those images. In 1964, Olympic diplomacy was centered on the spectacle of the Games, exemplifi ed primarily by the opening and closing ceremonies and the sports facilities and urban infrastructure built for the event. The nationalistic setting of the Olympics might not seem to be appropriate as a grand stage for carrying out diplomacy and promoting international harmony. The actual competitions of the Olympics feature national teams battling against one another. Athletes, more often than not, express a desire to win not only for themselves, but for the glory of their nation. Fans in the stands and in front of their televisions cheer for the athletes representing their own country. But events and interactions outside of the arenas of direct competition were held up as ideal venues for the kind of grassroots activity that could supplement and solidify government- level diplomacy. Thus, athletes exercised their diplomatic roles primarily during moments when they were not competing. The opening and closing ceremonies were in many ways the main arena for athletes’ symbolic diplomatic work. In the media discourse of the time, there were uncount- able descriptions of the national teams marching in to cheers from the stadium audiences. According to the interpretation of Hirabayashi Taiko, an author who had been a prominent left-wing activist and fi gure in the proletarian literature movement in the 1920s and 1930s, the mixing of various national uniforms during the closing ceremonies served as a symbol of the successful transcendence of the nation.32 The highpoint of the opening ceremony, the lighting of the Olympic torch, was one of the few high points of Olympic diplomacy that actually involved athletic activity. Making its way through eleven other countries in its journey from Greece to Japan, the torch served as a dramatic visual image of the Olympics linking together the peoples of the world. A long section of Ichikawa Kon’s documentary fi lm of the Tokyo Olympics followed the torch around the world and through Japan, drawing the connection for later viewers. Because this would be the fi rst Olympiad to be held in Asia, the torch relay was seen to symbolize not only the general concept of creating international connections through sports, but more specifi cally the union of the Hellenic and Asian civilizations.33 In an article published just after the Games, the renowned author and prolifi c essayist Mishima Yukio underlined the sense that hosting the Olympics could help Japan heal political rifts, referring to the torch burning in Tokyo’s Olympic stadium as “the fl ame that rejoined East and West.”34 When Athletes Are Diplomats 59

For observers of the Olympics, the torch drew together distant times as well as places. Drawing a metaphor linking the rising sun ﬂ ag of Japan, the sun over Olympia, and the sacred torch, Tanikawa Shuntaro¯, one of postwar Japan’s most well-known poets, wrote in a poem cel- ebrating the Tokyo Olympics:

one fi ne autumn day we fl y the fl ag of the rising sun the sun which is bright over your city that shone over Olympia that is carried by swift-footed youths striding over the lands and the long years35

This sense of the torch symbolizing the connection between ancient Greece and the modern Olympics was also articulated by Yasukawa Daigoro¯, President of the Organizing Committee for the Games of the XVIIIth Olympiad in his speech at the ceremony for sending off the torch from Athens. Yasukawa called the torch a “symbol of the Olympic Spirit which has blended the old world into this modern jet age.”36 This image was attractive to Japanese promoters of Olympic diplomacy, who wished to present to the world an image of Japan as a unique blending of traditional culture and modern industry. Olym- pic planners discussed the importance of putting on a “Japan-like” or “Asia-like” Games.37 The idea of combining Japanese tradition with modern technology was manifested even in the sports facilities that were built or expanded for the Games. The copious materials produced for foreign visitors frequently describe facilities built for the Olympics, such as the Budo¯kan and the Yoyogi National Gymnasium, as bringing traditional Japanese aesthetics into modern architecture. One observer claimed that the Olympic facilities expressed the essence of postwar Japan:

In the Nara period, Japan built Buddhist temples and images. In Meiji and Taisho¯, Japan put all its strength into building battleships and ﬂ eets, which, for better or for worse, displayed the spirit, technology, and sense of the times. Using the same metaphor, what represents the twenty years of postwar Japan is probably this stadium and roads built with billions of yen. For better or for worse, the Olympic facilities symbolize the place Japan has reached after twenty years of postwar.38

The Olympic facilities, therefore, would show the world the true appearance of contemporary Japan. But this, too, carried the risk of failure. In another echo of the 1930s, public anxiety about putting on a good face for foreign visitors provided inspiration and opportunity for improvements to the city’s infrastructure. For instance, the head of the Tokyo Municipal Waterworks Bureau Sewerage Department used the approaching Games to highlight “backward” aspects of the city and bolster his argument for an expansion of the sewer system. 60 The East Asian Olympiads

In the journal Shin toshi, or “New City,” he wrote: “As we welcome the 1964 Olympic Games, of all public facilities, the biggest headache is the traffi c problem. In Tokyo today, 500,000 cars are jammed up like bugs to sugar. An equally serious problem is that of Tokyo’s sewers.” The author then points out that “Some sewage goes into the rivers untreated, and the Sumida [River] … is so fi lthy that it stinks intoler- ably.”39 He goes on to detail plans for expansion of the sewer system. In this way, as in the 1930s, the Olympics were used to promote local improvements as well as international relations. Even the most local political issues, including funding for the sewer system, could be argued using the idea of world opinion to be formed at the Olympics. Thus the Games also became a tool in domestic politics. The supposedly non-political symbolism of the Olympics was available to both the government and the opposition. The Tokyo Games were seen by some on the left as a political tool of “the ruling classes.” The organ of the Japan Socialist Party warned that the Olympics were part of a strategic plan for the revival of militarism and were being used to prepare the ground for remilitarization and revision of Japan’s “Peace Constitution.”40 But some progressives, rather than simply criticizing the political use (or abuse) of the Olympics by the Liberal Democratic Party, used the rhetoric of postwar Olympic internationalism to question the sincerity of the ruling party. Writing in Zen’ei (Vanguard), the political journal of the Japan Communist Party’s Cen- tral Committee, communist journalist Kitani Yatsushi expressed the hope that the Tokyo Olympics would succeed as a “festival of peace and amity,” as Prime Minister Ikeda Hayato had referred to it. But he warned that this did not seem likely in the current political situation, which he compared to the militarism that derailed the 1940 Olympics. He asked: “Can the Tokyo Olympics be a festival of peace and amity in the context of the active promotion of policies of the strengthening of American military bases, the nuclear armament of Japan, and the revival of militarism?” 41 In spite of all the bright promises made by the proponents of people’s diplomacy, many doubted the effectiveness of the Olympics as a means to create greater understanding of Japan. The writer Takeda Taijun, while pointing out that the primary motivation behind hosting the Olympics was to promote international knowledge about Japan, bemoaned the “surprising ignorance about contemporary Japan in countries all around the world” and worried that “it doesn’t seem like Japan can ameliorate that [ignorance], no matter how many times it hosts the Olympics.”42 Takeda’s pessimism seems to be borne out by the fact that similar ideas of introducing the culture of the host country and improving international relations fi lled the media again as Japan and Korea prepared to co-host the 2002 Soccer World Cup. Four decades later, there remained a sense of a need to introduce Japan to the world and an idea that this could be achieved by hosting a major international sporting event. Sports diplomacy, introduced to fi ll the gap left by Japan’s break with the League of Nations and redeployed When Athletes Are Diplomats 61 after the war as a means to introduce “new” postwar Japan, has perhaps become a permanent part of Japan’s foreign policy.

NOTES 1 Kano ¯ Jigoro¯, “Waga Orinpikku hiroku,” Kaizo¯ 20:7 (July 1938), p. 273. 2 Hiranuma Ryo¯ zo¯, in Go¯ Takashi et al., “Tokyo Orimupikku ju¯o ¯ zadankai,” Chu¯o ¯ Ko¯ ron (December 1936), p. 350. 3 Sandra S. Collins, The 1940 Tokyo Games: The Missing Olympics: Japan, the Asian Olympics and the Olympic Movement (London: Routledge, 2007). 4 John Hoberman, “Toward a Theory of Olympic Internationalism,” Journal of Sport History 22:1 (Spring 1995), p. 7. 5 Kano ¯, “Waga Orinpikku hiroku,” p. 271. 6 Tokyo Shiyakusho, Dai ju¯ ni kai Orinpikku Tokyo taikai Tokyo-shi ho¯kokusho (Tokyo: Tokyo Shiyakusho, 1939), p. 207. 7 Irizawa Tatsukichi, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai ni kan suru kanso¯ oyobi kakuho¯men e no kibo¯ to chu¯mon,” Kaizo¯ 18:9 (September 1936), p. 300. See also Tokyo Shiyakusho, Dai ju¯ni kai Orinpikku, pp. 207–208. 8 Yamakawa Kikue, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 298. 9 Oka Kunio, in “Dai ju¯ ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 297. 10 Barbara Keys, Globalizing Sport: National Rivalry and International Community in the 1930s (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006), p. 25. 11 Shimomura Kainan, “Tokyo Orinpikku o norikoete,” Chu¯o ¯ kron (September 1938), p. 355. 12 Hirao Hachisaburo¯ (Education Minister at the time the decision was made for Tokyo), quoted in Sagita Shigeo, “Tokyo Orimupikku ni keikoku su,” Chu¯ o¯ Ko¯ ron 52:7 (July 1937), p. 171. 13 Miyazawa Toshiyoshi, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 297; Miyajima Kannosuke, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 299; Sagita, “Tokyo Orimupikku,” pp. 170–171. 14 For example, Ishikawa Kin’ichi, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 299; Ko¯ga Saburo¯, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” pp. 300–301. 15 Inumaru Tetsuzo¯, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” pp. 299–300. 16 Muto ¯ Teiichi, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 298. 17 Narisawa Reisen, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 297. 18 Suzuki Bunshiro¯, “Orinpikku to Bankokuhaku: Senden to kokuminteki kanshin,” Kaizo¯ 6 (June 1938), pp. 183–184. 19 Suzuki, “Orinpikku to Bankokuhaku,” p. 184. 20 Narisawa, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 297; Muto¯, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 298; Shirai Kyo¯ji, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 299. 21 Amo ¯ Eiji, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 301; Mikimoto Ryu¯zo¯, in “Dai ju¯ni kai Orimupikku Tokyo kaisai,” p. 298. 22 Sagita Shigeo, “To¯a taiiku taikai ni tsuite,” Chu¯o¯ Ko¯ron 55:6 (June 1940), pp. 350–352. 23 Saito ¯ Masami, “Orinpikku shiso¯ to Tokyo Orinpikku,” Shiso¯ 422 (August 1959), p. 123. 24 Kiyokawa Masaji, Tokyo Orinpikku ni omou: Supo¯tsu no gaikoku tsu¯shin (Tokyo: Be¯subo¯ru Magajinsha, 1963), p. 42. 62 The East Asian Olympiads

25 Christian Tagsold, “The Tokyo Olympics as a Token of Renationalization,” in Olympic Japan: Ideals and Realities of (Inter)Nationalism, ed. Andreas Niehaus and Max Seinsch (Würzburg: Ergon Verlag, 2007), p. 122. 26 Simon Partner, Assembled in Japan: Electrical Goods and the Making of the Japanese Consumer (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), pp. 163, 247. 27 Kobayashi Hideo, “Orinpikku no terebi,” Kobayashi Hideo zenshu¯ (Tokyo: Shincho¯sha, 2001), p. 117. Original publication: Asahi shinbun PR-han, November 1964. 28 “Kokusai Orinpikku taikai kankei: Dai ju¯hachi kai Tokyo taikai (1964): Terebi eisei chu¯kei kankei,” in Ministry of Foreign Affairs Diplomatic Record Offi ce, microfi lm I’0121. 29 Saito ¯, “Orinpikku shiso¯,” p. 123. 30 Eriko Yamamoto, “Cheers for Japanese Athletes: The 1932 Los Angeles Olympics and the Japanese American Community,” Pacifi c Historical Review (2000), pp. 416–419. 31 Kiyokawa, Tokyo Orinpikku ni omou, p. 43. 32 Hirabayashi Taiko, “Kokka ishiki to ningen,” in Ko¯dansha Daiichi Henshu¯kyoku Gakugei Tosho Daiichi Shuppanbu, ed., Tokyo Orinpikku: Bungakusha no mita seiki no saiten (Tokyo: Kodansha, 1964), p. 262. Original publication, Yomiuri shinbun, October 27, 1964. 33 Letter from the Organizing Committee for the Games of the XVIIIth Olympiad, June 3, 1961, in Ministry of Foreign Affairs Diplomatic Record Offi ce, microfi lm I’0121. Tagsold notes a similar function performed on the national level, the torch’s route through every region serving to unify the country. Tagsold, “The Tokyo Olympics, ” p. 125. 34 Mishima Yukio, “To¯yo¯ to seiyo¯ o musubu hi,” in Tokyo Orinpikku: Bungakusha no mita seiki no saiten, p. 262. 35 “One Fine Autumn Day,” XVIII Olympiad, [Prepared and published by the Asahi Broadcasting Corp. with the support of the Sumitomo Group] (Nakanoshima, 1964), p. 12. Quotation is from English version published along with the Japanese and translations into fi ve other languages. 36 Text of Yasukawa’s speech in Ministry of Foreign Affairs Diplomatic Record Offi ce, microfi lm I’0121. Original in English. 37 For instance Tabata Seiji et al., “Tabata-san o kakonde zadankai: Tokyo taikai no ko¯ so¯,” Tokyo Orinpikku 1 (March 1960), pp. 8–9. 38 Muramatsu Takeshi, “Kokkyo¯ koeta shimin no taikai,” in Tokyo Orinpikku: Bungakusha no mita seiki no saiten, p. 263. Original publication, Yomiuri shinbun, October 10, 1964. 39 To ¯ ru Jin, “Orinpikku to Tokyo no gesuido¯,” Shin toshi 15:2 (February 1961), pp. 39–40. 40 “Kiken na Orinpikku no uragawa,” Gekkan shakaito¯ 87 (September 1964), pp. 80–82; Okada So¯ji, “Orinpikku to nashonarizumu: Tokyo Orinpikku ga noko- shita mono wa nani ka,” Gekkan shakaito¯ 91 (January 1965), p. 152. 41 Kitani Yatsushi, “Tokyo Orinpikku o heiwa to yu¯ko¯ no saiten ni,” Zen’ei 213 (August 1963), p. 139. 42 Takeda Taijun, “Nihonjin no kokusai kankaku,” in Tokyo Orinpikku: Bungakusha no mita seiki no saiten, p. 263. Original publication, Sankei shinbun, November 2, 1964. 4 Public Service/Public Relations: The Mobilization of the Self-Defense Force for the Tokyo Olympic Games

Aaron Skabelund

“Public relations is one method of combat for the SDF and requires the application of the theories and techniques of psychological warfare.” – Self-Defense Force handbook from the 1960s1

INTRODUCTION ix oil paintings representing key events in the history of the S Japanese Self-Defense Force (SDF) hang in the history room of the Public Relations Center on the Asaka base located on the outskirts of Tokyo. Five of the paintings depict events familiar to many visitors, such as the SDF’s fi rst United Nations peacekeeping operation in Cambodia in 1992 and its Kobe earthquake disaster relief mission in 1995. The second painting of the six portrays a signifi cant though largely forgotten moment: the SDF’s support of the 1964 Tokyo Summer Olympics.2 The organization both provided tremendous material support and contributed to Japan’s competitive efforts by training athletes hoping to make the country’s national team. The painting aptly captures this dual involvement. Representing the over 7,000 military personnel who helped manage the Olympics, a SDF member stands in the left foreground on the side of a broad thoroughfare, his right hand holding a radio telephone to his mouth. He wears a formal green uniform with the offi cial Games badge—a red rising sun above fi ve golden interlocking Olympic rings—sewn to his breast pocket. To his right are pictured two marathoners running down the road, surrounded by spectators waving Japanese fl ags. The leading runner is Japanese and a black African athlete follows a few steps behind. The Japanese runner represents Tsuburaya 64 The East Asian Olympiads

Ko¯kichi who won the bronze and became the most famous of the twenty-one SDF athletes who competed on the national team.3 Not only in offi cial memory, but according to many individual SDF veterans, the Tokyo Games were a defi ning moment for the organization. For both those who were and were not directly involved in actually supporting the Games, the three weeks in October 1964 seemed to transform the SDF’s relationship with wider society. As one veteran who long served as a SDF public relations offi cer put it, the Olympics allowed the organization and its members to “emerge from the shadows and shine” for the fi rst time.4 In his view, the Tokyo Games were a turning point in the SDF’s campaign to gain societal acceptance. The role of national military forces in providing security at the Olympics, after the Black September attack during the Munich Games in 1972, and more recently following the 9/11 attacks, is familiar. But national militaries fulfi lled key roles in ensuring the success of the modern Olympic Games well before these incidents and through an involvement that went well beyond the provision of security. At the 1960 Games in Rome and Squaw Valley, for example, the Italian and American militaries provided signifi cant manpower and technical expertise.5 And over 20,000 German soldiers provided assistance at the 1972 Games.6 Unfortunately, they were not instructed to devote much attention to security. Moreover, in the realm of athletic competition, militaries, including the United States, have placed many athletes on Olympic teams, especially since the Second World War.7 So in some ways, the SDF’s contributions to the Tokyo Games and to Japan’s fi rst Winter Games held in Sapporo in February 1972 were not extraordinary. But compared to other militaries, the Olympics were far more important to the Japanese armed forces. Although their assigned duties were no different in 1964 (and 1972) than at previous Games, the Olympics, in both cases, presented Japan’s postwar military with a much larger opportunity than they did for other national armies. Why? Simply put, no other military had as much to gain as Japan’s reconfi gured postwar force. In the second half of the twentieth century, people in many countries became disaffected with military principles and ideas, but nowhere were these trends as severe and prolonged as in Japan. For many decades after 1945, the SDF and its soldiers confronted a citizenry that widely regarded the force as illegitimate and viewed its members with marked suspicion. Many people saw the SDF as a successor to the Imperial Army which had led the country to disastrous defeat. They regarded the organization as a violation of Article Nine of the 1947 “peace” constitution that outlawed the maintenance of “land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential.” And many considered the SDF to be a bastard child of the U.S. military created at the command of General Douglas MacArthur after the Korean War erupted in 1950. For years, SDF personnel routinely faced a wide variety of forms of private discrimination and snubs, including most famously catcalls accusing them of being “tax thieves” (zeikin dorobo). During the Public Service/Public Relations 65

1950s, salaried white-collar workers, often called “corporate warriors” (kigyo¯ senshi), emerged as the new embodiment of masculinity. The sarar¯ıman completely eclipsed the military man and the SDF almost disappeared from popular culture. The only battles it seemed fi t and able to fi ght were cinematic ones against Godzilla. The SDF’s motivations for contributing to the Olympic Games were of course varied and complicated. The organization was not simply rendering public service for public relations. National pride (partially and perhaps) primarily prompted institutional and individual actions. Like their compatriots, the SDF leadership and personnel wanted to contribute to a national effort to complete Japan’s reintegration into the international community by hosting the Olympics. By the same token, they certainly wanted Japanese athletes to win many medals. Individual soldiers were also spurred on by more personal motivations such as effectively representing the SDF and their respective units and improving their prospects for promotion. But it is also clear that the SDF leadership hoped that a byproduct of the organization’s efforts, like its disaster relief activities, would be wider societal acceptance, which would produce both abstract and concrete benefi ts, such as boosting internal morale, recruitment, and retention. Researchers have almost entirely ignored the contribution of military organizations to the Olympics and the ramifi cations of their involvement for the Games, militaries, and society.8 In general, scholars of sport have not shown much interest in military matters and military special- ists have paid little attention to sports. Many studies of the Olympics and other international sporting events have dealt with international politics and national prestige but less often examine domestic politics and society. And in the specifi c case of Japan, a social and cultural history of the Japanese military, both prewar but especially postwar, has only begun to emerge, and virtually no studies have dealt with the intersections between military affairs and sport. Though many Japanese, including SDF personnel, do not remember the organization’s contribution to the 1964 Games, the organization’s backing was essential to their success. The Games were also a qualifi ed success for the SDF. The International Olympic Committee regarded the Games as one of the best organized and executed ever, and organizers and media observers openly acknowledged the vital work provided by the SDF. Public “service” provided the SDF with a relatively non-controversial and generally positive public relations coup in its ongoing campaign against public alienation and ambivalence. This chapter explores the nature of the SDF’s involvement, and how the SDF, the media, SDF public relations offi cers, leftist critics, and others represented those endeavors. It also probes the extent to which these actions and discourses altered an ambiguous relationship with a society that depended on, yet in many ways had only partially accepted, its national military. Literary scholar Norma Field has observed that international sporting events are “enormously effective” in leading observers “to confuse attach- ment to a place and people . . . with patriotism” and nationalism. 9 It is 66 The East Asian Olympiads well known that the Tokyo Olympics helped to restore Japanese national pride. Funabashi Yo¯ichi, a prominent Asahi newspaper columnist, has noted that the 1964 Olympics provided Japanese with an opportunity to view the “Rising Sun” fl ag for the fi rst time without apprehension.10 It also allowed them to hear the national anthem, Kimigayo, without res- ervation. They could take pride that the fl ag was raised and the anthem played at the beginning of the Games because for the fi rst time an Asian country—their country—was hosting the Olympics. Moreover, this sight (and sometimes sound) could especially be enjoyed without guilt when Japanese athletes took the gold, silver, or bronze. But the Games also had immense signifi cance for those who were raising the fl ag and playing the anthem—the SDF. For the fi rst time, the Olympics gave the postwar military an opportunity to make itself widely visible and heard on a stage permeated by national pride.

MATERIAL SUPPORT: WORK BEHIND THE SCENES AND IN FULL VIEW Although few people seem to have noticed it at the time, it was deeply ironic that SDF personnel descended on the streets of the Tokyo in 1964. Just four years earlier during the summer of 1960, Prime Minister Kishi Nobusuke decided to call out SDF troops in response to massive demonstrations against the renewal of the U.S.-Japan Security Treaty, which ultimately forced U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower to cancel a scheduled visit. Concerned that deploying SDF troops would irrepara- bly damage society’s already strained relationship with the SDF, Defense Agency Director-General Akagi Muneyoshi successfully rebuffed Kishi’s proposal. But a few years later, again motivated by similar concerns about public relations, the agency sent SDF personnel into the streets of the capital, though for a radically different mission. The SDF’s support of the Olympics was extensive and varied. Its work began in earnest over two years before the Games opened in October, a month chosen to avoid Tokyo’s stifl ing summer heat and humidity. In July 1962, the Defense Agency, in response to a request for assistance from the national organizing committee, outlined a plan of support that involved all three branches of the force. SDF commanders mobilized the organization’s unrivaled mechanical power and logistical expertise for the Games to augment an intensive national effort to host athletes and visitors. As the Games offi cial report recounts, SDF assistance involved “7,500 personnel, 7 ships, 12 air-planes, 740 vehicles, and approximately 820 units of communication equipment, and three salute-guns.” The SDF’s Tokyo Olym- pic Support Command (TOSC) comprised seven groups: ceremonies, communications, medical services, air and ground transportation, Olympic Village management, and event support (such as the marathon).11 Months before the Games began, SDF divisions throughout the country dispatched soldiers to Tokyo. One such member from Hokkaido¯’s Northern Corps was Lieutenant Sato¯ Noboru (1920- ), who served in Public Service/Public Relations 67 the Spanish section of the Olympic Village. SDF organizers may have selected Sato¯ because he had already spent a year at the U.S. Army Air Defense Artillery School at Fort Bliss in El Paso. Before departing for Tokyo, Sato¯ and eighteen other Northern Corps personnel gathered at the American School on the U.S. Air Force base in Chitose for three weeks of Spanish language training conducted largely in English by a Mrs. Melendez, the wife of a U.S. captain.12 In this and other ways— such as returning what the Americans called Washington Heights, land in central Tokyo used for U.S. military housing, so that it could be transformed into the Olympic Village—the U.S. military aided the SDF and contributed to the success of the Games. In the village, Sato¯ and his TOSC colleagues guarded the entrances, patrolled the village, and responded to the daily living needs of the athletes, from taking care of belongings to dealing with backed-up toilets. All of the SDF’s responsibilities were not far from the limelight of spectators and television cameras. In particular, the duties of the ceremonial support group during the opening and closing festivities put the SDF on full display. The SDF provided over half of the personnel for the 530-member band, Defense Academy cadets led each national team into the National Stadium carrying placards displaying the names of each country, artillery experts fi red cannons in salute, and most spectacularly fi ve Air SDF jets created the fi ve colored interlocking Olympic rings in the clear blue sky to culminate the opening ceremony on October 10. Whether parading in full view or working behind the scenes, the SDF appeared in front of millions of live spectators, newspaper readers, and radio and television audiences. An estimated 90 percent of the population watched the opening ceremonies via television. Even TOSC’s more mundane tasks, such as receiving training to transport Olympic athletes around the city, elicited media attention—both national and local—as Olympic fever gripped the country.

THE SDF’S OLYMPIC TRAINING PROGRAM Although everyone who witnessed the Olympics probably beheld the supporting role of the thousands of SDF personnel, the starring performances of a few SDF personnel who were members of the Olympic team drew even greater attention and adoration. The public celebrated the feats of weightlifter Miyake Yoshinobu (1939- ) who claimed Japan’s fi rst gold medal of the Games and Tsuburaya Ko¯kichi (1940–1968) who fi nished sixth in the 10,000 meters and a week later won the marathon bronze, Japan’s only medal in track-and-fi eld and the country’s fi rst in twenty-eight years. Placing athletes on the Olympic team provided the SDF with an excellent opportunity to gain recognition and intense though perhaps temporary backing. In the heat of international competition, what citizen—including hard-core leftists who were opposed to the SDF’s very existence—could restrain themselves from cheering for the SDF athletes competing for Japan? 68 The East Asian Olympiads

Before 1964, neither the SDF nor its predecessor the Imperial Army had ever engaged in the systematic training of athletes. Few members of the prewar army participated in Olympic events, the only exception being equestrian, one of the few sports for which the top offi cers had much respect. Prewar soldiers who participated in the Olympics, such as Count Nishi Takeichi, who with his horse Uranus won the gold in show jumping at the 1932 Los Angeles Games (and died during the defense of Iwo Jima in 1945), succeeded more because of their status and wealth rather than because of active army support. Likewise, until the early 1960s the SDF offered little offi cial support for competitive athletics, and no member made an Olympic team before Tokyo. In late 1960, new Defense Agency chief Esaki Masumi ordered the creation of facilities dedicated to the training of athletes. Japan had sent the third largest contingent of athletes to the 1960 Rome Games after the Soviet Union and the United States, but only won gold medals in gymnastics. Esaki reportedly declared to other cabinet ministers that “the crack members of the 250,000-strong SDF will claim fi ve or six gold medals.”13 By early 1961, SDF offi cials established the program on the Asaka base and focused their efforts on six sports—weightlifting, track and fi eld, boxing, wrestling, shooting, and canoeing—and only on male athletes.14 Staffed by dozens of coaches, the program recruited a number of established athletes, such as Miyake, a Ho¯sei University student and winner of a silver medal in the bantamweight (56 kg, 123 lbs.) division in Rome, to join the SDF in exchange for fi nancial and training support. The program also drew on the ranks of the 250,000 members of the SDF. By March 1963, school offi cials selected sixty- eight athletes to undergo intensive training. SDF athletes did not win fi ve or six gold medals as Esaki had boldly predicted, but they largely performed according to immediate pre- Olympics media expectations, which anyway was all the public remembered. Before the Games began, the press focused primarily on the prospects of Miyake as well as Tsuburaya, whose meteoric rise in 1963 from complete obscurity had captured the country’s attention. On the third day of the Games, Miyake captured Japan’s fi rst gold in a heavier featherweight (60 kg, 132 lbs.) division with a world record-setting lift. Tsuburaya’s bronze in the high-profi le marathon was much more dramatic and his background was one with which many of his compatriots and fellow soldiers could identify. Indeed, because he came from a humble background and was painfully shy, he became a sort of Everyman. Born and raised in rural Fukushima prefecture, Tsuburaya joined the SDF in 1959 when all other employment options failed him. He was not a good enough runner to be hired by a company to join the few corporate-sponsored clubs or secure a scarce university athletic scholarship, and he was not a good enough student or from a family of enough means to go to college. Only after joining the SDF did he became an athlete of national and then international stature.15 As a result, the general public and SDF members linked his success directly to the armed forces. Public Service/Public Relations 69

As the marathon—the fi nal track-and-fi eld event of the Games—began at one o’clock on October 21, the eyes of the nation were fi xed on Tsuburaya. That intense, hopeful gaze is captured by Ichikawa Kon’s offi cial documentary, Tokyo Olympiad. The fi lm, which partially drew from live television footage including aerial shots taken from SDF helicopters, provides glimpses of how millions of people witnessed the race. The fi lm introduces a dozen or so of the front runners one after another as they pass through the streets—with the SDF soldiers providing crowd control. The fi nal runner introduced is Tsuburaya. The camera lingers on him for a few moments, in contrast to previous runners, then it cuts to a series of short clips showing spectators—including a man holding a child on his shoulders, a group of young women, and a close-up of an elderly woman—a cross section of Japanese lining the road cheering for Tsuburaya. The television announcer, too, repeatedly urges Tsuburaya onward: “Tsuburaya ganbare, ganbare. . . .” Their cheers were not in vain. Abebe Bikila, an army sergeant in the Ethiopian army and gold medalist in Rome, entered the stadium fi rst and repeated his Rome marathon victory in Olympic-record time. Several minutes later, Tsuburaya emerged from the tunnel in second for one fi nal lap. Britain’s Basil Heatley followed a moment later and on the last turn sprinted past an exhausted Tsuburaya to take the silver. Tsuburaya, though, had clearly given it his all.

THE LAST EMBODIMENT OF JAPANESE “GUTS”? Late that afternoon, the Defense Agency announced that it would award Tsuburaya and Miyake with the SDF’s top decoration in honor of their Olympic medals. The SDF appeared anxious to capitalize on the excitement of the moment, before the Games ended and people’s attention turned elsewhere, to remind people that the two represented not just Japan but the SDF. The timing and apparent intent of this move did not go unnoticed. To some observers, the decorations seemed like a blatant attempt to take advantage of their accomplishments and an unnecessary distraction from the ongoing competition. Even in the right-leaning daily Yomiuri newspaper, sports commentator Kawamoto Nobumasa forcefully criticized the Defense Agency for not having “at least waited until after the Games were over” to bestow the decorations. SDF leaders could take solace, though, in that Kawamoto immediately pointed out that “if the agency was going give out decorations, they should give them to personnel who supported the Games behind the scenes, such as the band members, helicopter pilots, and others. They are the people who really deserve to be honored.”16 This minor controversy highlights the various ways that the SDF’s contributions to the Olympics, both athletic and material, were represented by the SDF, the mass media, and critics of various political stripes. The SDF was best able to successfully convert its public service into positive public relations when it was perceived that it was not trying to do so. Any SDF move deemed as an overt attempt to generate 70 The East Asian Olympiads positive public relations risked provoking criticism that could erase or at least discolor the positive impressions created by its contributions. From the time it was announced that the SDF would be training athletes and providing logistical support for the Games, many newspaper accounts mentioned that the Olympics offered the SDF an excellent PR opportunity and that this was one of the primary motivations for the leadership’s enthusiasm for assisting the Olympics. As a result, the SDF had to proceed as if it was not trying to take advantage of the Games to burnish its image at the same time it was attempting to do just that. This was a diffi cult balance to achieve. The strategy, which the SDF generally opted for, was to let its actions speak for themselves and encourage others to speak favorably of them. This challenge was complicated by the fact that the SDF leadership and public relations offi cials spoke to two audiences, wider society and an internal one, and their direct appeals to the organization’s rank- and-fi le to take advantage of the Olympics to burnish the image of the SDF frequently found its way into the mainstream media and into the hands of leftist critics. In internal magazines, newspapers, and speeches, Defense Agency offi cials and SDF offi cers repeatedly reminded personnel that the Olympics provided the organization, as one internal magazine put it, with the “best PR tactics ever.”17 They also sought to leverage the SDF’s involvement to boost internal morale and to communicate to members a set of normative expectations of how they should behave in order to improve the SDF’s relationship with the public. The resulting media discourse was in general fairly positive. Mainstream newspapers and magazines routinely reported on the Olympic-related activities of the SDF and usually did so in an objective, just-the-facts manner. When they strayed from this pattern, it was often to focus on a particular offi cial playing a key role, such as interviews with the offi cer in charge of TOSC, and such specials tended to personalize the SDF and its members.18 At least three other themes or patterns are apparent in representations of the SDF’s actions. First, both media commentators and SDF offi cials frequently tapped into visual metaphors that had often been used to describe the SDF. During the 1950s, critics of the military had regularly described it as a “hidden army” (kakure no gun) or “shadow army” (hikage no gun), and that its personnel were “shadowy things” (hikagemono). In the context of the Olympics, both allies, critics, and more neutral observers adopted similar language. Newspaper accounts repeatedly mentioned that SDF personnel were working in the shadows of the Olympics. At the introduction of the Tokyo Orinpikku sakusen (Tokyo Olympic Tac- tics), a collection of experiences composed by TOSC participants and issued by Asagumo shinbun-sha, a publisher closely affi liated with the Defense Agency, Japan Olympic Committee president Takeda Tsuney- oshi, a former prince, lieutenant colonel, and Olympic equestrian participant at the Berlin Games, wrote of his wish to “make widely known to the public the hard work and good humor of the SDF, which has been in the shadows.”19 A magazine commentator, who praised Public Service/Public Relations 71 the SDF for its “gold-medal level” service, stressed the importance of its personnel being in “front” of the entire nation’s “eyes.”20 Likewise, leftists objected to the SDF emerging from the shadows at the opening ceremony to visually assault spectators, who they asserted had no desire to see its so-called service.21 If there was one thing that both allies and critics of the force seemed to agree on it was that the SDF making itself visible at the Olympics would have a powerful effect on society. Proponents of the SDF believed that the response to such images would be positive, but their repeated use of words such as “shadow” likely reminded people of the SDF’s complicated past. A second theme identifi able in discussions about the SDF’s involvement was the frequent use of the vocabulary of war to describe the logistical and athlete training support of the organization. The media, SDF offi cials, and critics had a fi eld day using words, normally used for military operations during war such as “deploy” (hahei), “mobilize” (shutsudo¯), and “tactics” (sakusen), to describe actions that were not nearly as dramatic as armed confl ict. One article even sensationalized a minor accident involving a communications jeep during the Games as the “support force’s fi rst sacrifi ce.”22 Such wordplay seemed like a way for the media and the SDF to motion towards but ultimately sidestep the sensitivity of the military’s prominent role in an event that supposedly was all about peaceful international interaction and had little to do with the offi cial duties of the SDF. Left-leaning critics, of course, did not shy away from what they saw as the militarization of the Games and its legitimizing effect for the SDF. In a discussion of the opening ceremony in the left-leaning daily Asahi newspaper, for example, three guest commentators—two movie directors and a painter—criticized the “military atmosphere” of the music and vast numbers of SDF participants in the program.23 They and others expressed concern about the remilitarization of society and Japan’s image abroad. Despite these criticisms, the three alternatively praised aspects of the SDF’s performance, such as the maneuvers of the SDF jets, and recognized that much of the spectacle would not have been possible without the military’s participation. Like this article, criticisms of the SDF’s involvement were harshest before or just as the Games began, but largely evaporated once they were in full-swing. Confronted with the unfolding success of the Games and Japan’s Olympic team, it undoubtedly became all the more diffi cult to speak negatively of the SDF in an atmosphere rife with national pride. A third theme in discussions about the SDF’s involvement in the Olympics was the spiritual strength supposedly embodied by the SDF, both support personnel and athletes. A number of commentators suggested that SDF soldiers represented the fi nal embodiment of konjo¯ (guts) in postwar Japan. They hailed them as examples of admi- rable character trait that seemed to be disappearing among young people who had not experienced the war and were growing up in a prosperous Japan that was making them soft. Observers hailed 72 The East Asian Olympiads

Miyake and Tsuburaya for their “guts.” After Miyake’s gold-winning performance, one writer noted that he had heard a number of people say: “Young people need to join the SDF for a year or two. Unlike civilians, SDF members have konjo¯.” Their assertion, he observed, was that the difference between Miyake’s silver at Rome and his gold- winning performance in Tokyo was not just four years of training, but more importantly the konjo¯ he acquired in the SDF.24 A newspaper article in a series about “present-day Japanese” that appeared two months before the Olympics suggested that the SDF was one of the few institutions in modern society able to instill konjo¯, which the piece defi ned as the “strong desire to accomplish a goal.” It opened with an example of SDF troops responding to the urgent request by Niigata offi cials to battle a fi re threatening to completely ravage the city that summer. Niigata residents, the paper reported, believed that the SDF succeeded in saving their city thanks to their “strenuous efforts” (funto¯ do¯ryoku).25 In this way, some commentators identifi ed the SDF with a new sort of postwar spiritualism that was supposedly different from the excessive emphasis of the Imperial military on the intangible qualities of the Japanese spirit (seishin). Yet, the talk about the SDF’s konjo¯ uneasily coexisted alongside the celebration of the Japanese women’s volleyball team’s gold-winning performance, which some credited to the Imperial Army-inspired regime of gru- eling physical and spiritual training deployed by its coach, a war veteran. The actions of an SDF athlete, ironically, threatened to under- mine the organization’s budding image as the embodiment of guts. On the fourth day of the Games, wrestling coach Hachida Ichiro¯ expelled Kawano Shun’ichi, a light-heavyweight freestyle wrester, from the Olympic Village, for what he called a “lack of fi ghting spirit” (to¯shi fusoku). Hachida was angry at Kawano’s failure to attack aggressively in a third-round defeat to an Iranian wrestler. He stated that Kawano’s performance was “inexcusable” because, as an SDF athlete, his training was funded by taxpayers. Kawano’s banishment was short—the wrestling federation welcomed him back the following day—but his expulsion and Hachida’s comments upset SDF leaders. Although they did not say so, his assertion that Kawano had wasted tax monies probably struck a raw nerve for personnel who had once been regularly denigrated as “tax thieves.” The chief of the Defense Agency’s Educa- tion Section protested that punishing an athlete for losing was “pre- posterous” and “unmodern.”26 The media, of course, made the most of the controversy. In a retrospective look after the Games, one columnist said he felt bad about bringing it up but did so anyway.27 The Yomi- uri joked that Kawano’s lack of fi ghting spirit was just like that of his employer/ sponsor, the SDF, which “only defended and knew nothing of attacking” (mamoru dake de semeru o shiranu), and teased SDF leaders for lacking a sense of humor, just like the Imperial Army, in their handling of the incident.28 Still, the editorial concluded, the SDF had prof- ited from the Games more than anyone thanks to positive impressions Public Service/Public Relations 73

created by its support activities and the “‘military spirit,’ which people are calling konjo¯,” embodied by Miyake and Tsuburaya.

CONCLUSION Whether the SDF was the biggest winner of the Olympics is diffi cult to evaluate. But the argument that the Olympics resulted in an improved image for the SDF is amply supported by public opinion polls conducted before and after the Games. A 1963 poll reported that just 23 percent of people knew something about the SDF’s public service activities. In 1965, 60 percent were aware of its public service activities, a two-fold increase, which can largely be credited to the Olympics a year before. More importantly for the SDF, the number of people who had a positive impression of the SDF rose from 41 percent in 1963 to 57 percent in 1965. When asked the reason for their positive opinion of the SDF, latter respondents cited the SDF’s support for the Olympics second only to the organization’s disaster relief activities.29 These polling numbers were supported by anecdotal, SDF-fi ltered evidence as well. In To¯kyo¯ Orinpikku sakusen, the collection of Games- related experiences of TOSC personnel, several contributors related post-Olympic incidents in which they felt they were treated better by people as a result of the Games. One soldier wrote that as he returned to Kyu¯shu¯ following the Games, he met a union activist and a leftist teacher from Hokkaido¯ on their way to protest against the docking of U.S. naval vessels carrying nuclear weaponry at the port of Sasebo who said they “were forced to recognize the valuable role fulfi lled by the SDF at the Olympics.”30 Another soldier, Kami Kazuhiko, told of stopping by a bar in the capital just before heading back to his home base after the end of the Olympics. After noticing the uniformed Kami, one man began yelling “SDF banzai!” Kami wondered if the man was making fun of him or was drunk, but about ten other customers gathered around and complimented the SDF on making the Olympics a “fantastic” success. Thanks to the SDF’s involvement with the Olym- pics, Kami felt “people looked at us differently,” in sharp contrast to his past experiences when people had turned a dog on him and ignored him when he asked for directions. “To not ever lose this respect,” he concluded, “each member must continue to work even harder.”31 As indicated by the surveys, these isolated experiences may have indeed signifi ed a fairly dramatic shift in public attitudes towards the SDF, but their inclusion in the collection also represented the SDF leadership’s hopes and expectations. The stories clearly emanate a sense of self- congratulatory accomplishment and a continuing challenge aimed at personnel to maintain this newly acquired respect. Such new-found support, while important, proved fragile. Favorable views of the SDF eroded as the student and anti-Vietnam War movements grew in Japan in the late 1960s. In addition, double-digit economic growth during the 1960s made joining the SDF even less attractive. Morale, recruitment, and retention all suffered, and societal 74 The East Asian Olympiads

discrimination against SDF personnel continued. In this respect, the transformative effect of the Tokyo Olympics may seem ﬂ eeting. But more important than permanently improving the public’s image of the SDF was that its involvement established a precedent for the armed forces being involved in public service. Although its approval ratings after the Tokyo Games were short-lived, the SDF’s service and other out- reach activities became far less controversial and this allowed the force to prevent its image from suffering even more than it might have in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In fact, the SDF’s reputation for instilling konjo¯, solidiﬁ ed through the Olympics, appears to have led an increasing number of companies to send their new employees to local SDF bases for spiritual training to help turn them into “corporate warriors.” And the SDF’s massive support for the 1972 Sapporo Games, when according to polls public opinion of the SDF was at an all-time low, was not controversial. Even the SDF’s leftist critics took it for granted. Perhaps only later drastic shifts in the geopolitical environment—the end of the Cold War, the weakening of the left, and real and perceived threats from North Korea and China—could lead to a dramatic shift in public views of the military, but in 1964 its support of the Tokyo Games contributed to public dependence on the SDF and bolstered the organization’s efforts to (re)integrate itself into a society that was yet unwilling to accept, much less embrace, its national military.

NOTES 1 Asahi shinbun, ed., Jieitai (Tokyo: Asahi shinbun, 1968), p. 232. 2 Although Asaka is a Ground SDF base, the artwork depicts some of the important events for the country’s other two military branches, the Maritime and Air SDF as well. Commissioned by the SDF for the opening of the center in 2002, artist Ono Hisako loosely based the paintings on contemporary photographs. The other three paintings show Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru reviewing SDF units in the early 1950s, the SDF’s fi rst combined training exercise with the U.S. military in 1981, and an international disaster relief operation to fl ood-stricken Honduras in 1998. 3 Ono took great though puzzling liberties in adapting the 1964 photograph. In the painting, the Olympic Stadium, where the race began and ended, looms in the background but does not appear in the photograph. And in the painting, the Japanese runner, whose number does not match any of the three Japanese competitors, runs a few meters ahead of a black African athlete, but in the photograph, Tsuburarya, Japan’s top marathoner, runs evenly with him. It is diffi cult to know the intent of the changes executed by Ono, but they may indicate the SDF’s ambiguous attitude towards Tsubu- ruya, who committed suicide in January 1968 after his running career came to a premature end because of severe lower back pain. 4 Irikura Sho¯zo¯, interview with author, June 30, 2007. 5 Organizing Committee of the Games of the XVII Olympiad, The Games of the XVII Olympiad: Rome 1960 (Rome: Organizing Committee of the Games of the XVII Olympiad, 1960). Public Service/Public Relations 75

6 Von Ernst-Heinrich Zimmer, “Die Bundeswehr bei den XX. Olympischen Sommerspielen 1972,” Wehrkunde 20:8 (1972), pp. 402–406. 7 For a brief historical sketch of U.S. military Olympic training programs, see Armed Forces Sports Committee, ed., Achieving Excellence: The Story of America’s Military Athletes in the Olympic Games (Alexandra: Armed Forces Sports Committee, 1992). 8 See, for example, John E. Findling and Kimberly D. Pelle, ed., Encyclopedia of the Modern Olympic Movement (Westport, CT: Greeenwood, 2004), in which there is no mention of the role of military organizations. 9 Norma Field, In the Realm of a Dying Emperor (1991; New York: Vintage, 1993), p. 276. 10 Funabashi Yo¯ichi, “Seikaiju¯ aozora o atsumeta,” Foresight 11:1 (January 2000), p. 62. 11 Organizing Committee of the Games of the XVIII Olympiad, Games of the XVIII Olympiad Tokyo 1964, 2 volumes (Tokyo: Organizing Committee of the Games of the XVIII Olympiad, 1964), Volume 1, pp. 495–500. 12 Sat o¯ Noburu, interview with the author, March 3, 2008; “Supaingo o Eigo de narau,” Hokkaido¯ shinbun, June 30, 1964. 13 “Orinpikku o gyu¯jiru jieitai,” Shukan Yomiuri supottsu 50 (January 6, 1961), p. 95. 14 “Katsu koto dake,” Yomiuri shinbun, March 5, 1963 (evening edition), p. 1. In the early 1960s, there were no female members of the SDF, except for nurses, a specialty deemed appropriate for women. The SDF began to focus on fewer sports, especially shooting, wresting, and weightlifting, after the 1964 games. The organization also supplies the national Olympic team with most of the biathlon competitors for the Winter Games. From 1968 to 2004, SDF-sponsored athletes have won ten medals for Japan, all at the Summer Games. In the last two decades, the SDF has trained female athletes as well. 15 Hashimoto Katsuhiko, Orinpikku ni ubawareta inochi: Tsuburaya Ko¯kichi, sanju¯nen me no shisho¯gen (Tokyo: Sho¯gakkan, 1999). 16 “Hada de kanjita sekai no Nippon,” Yomiuri shinbun, October 25, 1964, pp. 8–9. 17 Tabata Ryo¯ichi, “Rikujo¯ Jieitai no Orinpikku shien ko¯so¯,” Shu¯shin 6:9 (September 1963), p. 43. 18 “Toki no hito,” Yomiuri shinbun, September 15, 1964, p. 2. 19 Asagumo shinbun-sha, ed., To¯kyo¯ Orinpikku sakusen (Tokyo: Asagumo shinbun-sha), p. 8. 20 Murakami Hyo¯e, “Kin medaru kyu¯ no karei naru shu¯dan, Jieitai,” Sand¯ e Mainichi (November 1964), p. 101. 21 Hara Hideki, “Orinpikku to jieitai,” Bunka hyo¯ron (January 1964), p. 149. 22 “Shien butai hajime no gisei,” Yomiuri shinbun, October 19, 1964, p. 11. 23 “Orinpikku butai saiten,” Asahi shinbun, October 10, 1964 (evening edition), p. 10. 24 Murakami, “Kin medaru kyu¯,” p. 101. 25 “Konj o¯, fuyo¯ no jidai?” Yomiuri shinbun, August 10, 1964, p. 3. 26 “Shikaku shita Kawano senshu¯ o go¯rin mura kara tsuiho¯,” Yomiuri shinbun, October 14, 1964, p. 15. 27 Murakami, “Kin medaru kyu¯,” p. 101. 76 The East Asian Olympiads

28 “Yomiuri sunhyo¯,” Yomiuri shinbun, October 29, 1964 (evening edition), p. 1. 29 Naikaku so¯ridaijin kanbo¯ ko¯ho¯shitsu, Jieitai ni kansuru seiron cho¯sa (Tokyo: Naikaku so¯ridaijin kanbo¯ ko¯ho¯shitsu, 1963); Naikaku so¯ridaijin kanbo¯ ko¯ho¯shitsu, Jieitai no ko¯ho¯ oyobi bo¯ei mondai ni kansuru seiron cho¯sa (Tokyo: Naikaku so¯ridaijin kanbo¯ ko¯ho¯shitsu, 1966). The latter survey was conducted in 1965 but not published until the next year. 30 Asagumo shinbun-sha, ed., To¯kyo¯ Orinpikku sakusen, p. 205. 31 Asagumo shinbun-sha, ed., To¯kyo¯ Orinpikku sakusen, p. 196. 5 Foreign and Domestic Bodies: Sexual Anxieties and Desires at the Tokyo Olympics

Paul Droubie

he 1964 Tokyo Summer Olympics marked the fi rst time that Tlarge numbers of foreigners traveled to Japan since the end of the American Occupation in 1952: it was most likely the largest number of foreigners to visit Japan by invitation ever. Their arrival marked the end of the postwar era and a reacceptance into the world community for Japan as a peaceful country. Beyond this, as arguably the premiere global sporting event, with mandated accompanying cultural exhibitions, much of the world turned its attention to the Olympiad in Japan and could do so for the fi rst time live, and in color, via satellite. As a result, many Japanese were very concerned with how foreigners, especially Westerners, would perceive their country. They wanted to make sure their visitors enjoyed their time in Japan and took good impressions of Japan back home with them, mainly that it was a land of peace and high technology, and was modern, yet traditional. At the same time, the large numbers of foreign guests staying among them brought to the surface some typically hidden anxieties about the relationship between foreign and domestic bodies. The fi rst and foremost goal of the Japanese was that foreigners would enjoy their stays in Japan. For Western visitors, they were to return home viewing Japan as a fellow advanced and modern country, while still recognizing it as part of the “Orient” for purposes of tourism, a self-Orientalizing script. For non-Westerners, they were supposed to be suitably impressed by this non-Western, yet completely modern and advanced country: they were to look to Japan as a model and guide for their own path to modernity. For international relations, however, these goals required diplomacy and attention at the personal level, particularly since most of the foreign visitors would not speak Japanese and most Japanese did not speak other languages. These were the 78 The East Asian Olympiads

fi rst Olympics where the offi cial languages of the Games, French, and English, were not used by many local residents. As the Offi cial Report noted, “now the Olympic Games were to take place for the fi rst time in a country where the people were in general not fl uent in foreign languages, and where the offi cial language of the country did not con- form to the pattern of European languages.”1 The Olympic Organizing Committee (OOC) set out methodically to solve this problem. For coordination between the OOC and the various NOCs (National Olympic Committees), the Japanese encouraged each NOC with diplomatic missions or commercial enterprises in Japan to fi nd a suitable attaché already in Japan. They offered to recommend Japanese who might be acceptable for those countries which did not. While suffi cient attachés were found to work between the OOC and individual NOCs, there was clearly still the problem of what to do with all the NOC offi cials, coaches, staff, and athletes that would attend the Games; they would also need guides and interpreters. In 1962, the OOC decided to recruit and train college students, called “student-interpreters,” for use with management and technical work, as it was deemed they would pick up the necessary technical jargon more quickly than adults.2 At the same time, public calls went out for anyone who had the necessarily language skills, who were called “general interpreters.”3 The desired languages were English, French, German, Spanish, and Russian, refl ecting colonial, postcolonial, and Cold War realities of language usage. In addition, they specifi ed a preference for recruiting “young and active persons,” refl ecting a desire for energetic representatives of Japan, but also showing the goals of the Olympic movement in general for physical fi tness. In total, almost 300 student-interpreters were selected from eighteen universities. In addition, a public call went out in March 1964 for approximately 900 interpreters who would be chosen by “competitive examination,” who were referred to as “general interpreters.”4 They were required to be less than thirty-fi ve years of age and, in the end, nearly 70 percent of those chosen were university students. They were split evenly by gender, although the demand was higher for men due to concerns over the long hours they were to work and they even occasionally assigned two women to a post to compensate for this.5 Women were not expected, nor seen as able, to work the same long hours as men. The translators generally appeared in the Olympic discourse concerning foreigners experiencing Japan. They were the guides that allowed the visitors to experience all that Japan had to offer: culture, travel and shopping were the most prevalent activities. The translators themselves spoke of “improving Japan’s reputation,” one of the central tropes of the Olympics for Japanese.6 The mass media also did not discrimi- nate between the various offi cial and unoffi cial translator programs. The coverage largely focused on the young female college students who acted as guides in the shopping districts and elsewhere. Clearly, this interaction between Japanese and foreigners had a gendered dimension in perception, if not reality. Even though there were at least as many Foreign and Domestic Bodies 79 men translating and guiding foreigners around Japan, in the public discourse, it was predominantly a female role and sphere of action. Even more than the translators, the mass media obsessed over a group of women called “Companion(s)” (konpanion). The Compan- ions were thirty-four “young ladies of culture with linguistic talent and international experience” who were chosen on the basis of connections and recommendations.7 They assisted International Olympic Commit- tee (IOC) members and their families, as well as around two dozen special guests, for a total of 101, from the moment of their arrival at Haneda Airport until they left Japan.8 The women were chosen from elite families, including two daughters of Prime Minister Ikeda Hayato, and more than half were unmarried.9 These Companions, in particular, were held up as the fi nest Japan had to offer: mostly young, attractive, and multilingual with an international outlook. It does not seem a stretch that focusing on and using women was also a method to avoid any lingering bad will towards the potentially problematic Japanese male and his association with wartime Japan (i.e., the military and government leaders). This was also likely designed to appeal to the entirely male composition of IOC offi cials.10 Japanese women were also routinely used as living representatives of Japanese tradition and history. This took place from the very beginning of the application process. The Japan Olympic Committee (JOC) hosted the 54th General Meeting of the IOC in Tokyo, concurrent with hosting the 1958 Asian Games, as part of a publicity campaign.11 Following the meeting, the JOC and OOC arranged tours of Kyoto and Nara for the delegates who had time to travel.12 A prominent theme and reoccurring fi gure on the tour were “geisha.” At some stops, the men, both Japanese and foreign, were paired up with Japanese women in traditional geisha garb. The women performed traditional songs and dances for the visitors, even encouraging them to join in the performances.13 These women were being used to showcase Japanese cultural traditions in a self-Orientalizing script to foreign men. It was also likely designed to appeal specifi cally to IOC head Avery Brundage, who had a well-known interest in traditional Asian culture and art. The kimono-clad Japanese woman, although only rarely a real geisha, was a frequently performed role at all stages of the Olym- pics. Their most visible and common task was in retail and as “medal girls,”14 who took the medals on trays to the medalists’ podiums. Given the live broadcasting and coverage of medalists and medal ceremonies, this would have been the most commonly broadcast image of non-athlete Japanese, whether male or female, with the exception of anonymous and impersonal spectators in crowds. The use of women in this role was not lost on the public. The media reported a boom in “geisha girls” learning English to better serve their potential foreign clientele.15 In this case, of course, the implication was not limited to professional cultural performers but included those involved in hostess clubs and beyond. The above, broadly defi ned, feminine roles were the most common ones that would place Japanese in personal interactions 80 The East Asian Olympiads with foreigners: certainly this general role—that of Japanese women in kimono or yukata—was almost the only one in which foreigners were shown interacting with Japanese females in the mass media. Japanese women in modern garb, or even Japanese female athletes, almost never appeared in that context.16 However, the focus on and utilization of these women and others also demonstrated the limits to Japanese internationalism. As the Olympics approached, it became increasingly clear that internationalism, when brought to Japan and put into practice, made many distinctly uncomfortable. The resulting popular discourse revealed a widespread fear that Japanese women would be taken advantage of by foreign men or had a particular weakness towards them. This was not just in regards to the Companions and translators, but extended to the general populace. However, even the elite Companions were not immune to this discourse: their duties were specifi ed as not including anything beyond their offi cial roles. Weekly tabloids carried stories about how Japanese females had a weakness towards foreign males and that everyone needed to watch out for this: even the respected Asahi Shinbun printed an article with the infl ammatory title “Women are Susceptible to Foreigners.”17 The mainstream women’s magazine Fujin Ko¯ron (Women’s Public Opinion) was also involved. In a special segment where intellectuals and cultural producers commented on their “worries” about the Olympics, several female authors and critics spoke directly about their concerns over Japanese women being abused or tricked into sexual relations by foreign men, either through a lack of understanding of English or through the exoticism and eroticism of the foreign body. Leftist social commentator and author Ishigaki Ayako cautioned that women need to “clearly say no” to the advances.18 Japanese women being incapable of clearly refusing foreign male sexual advances was a recurring theme of this discourse and they were repeated urged to clearly and fi rmly reject the men. In the same issue, however, several male scholars argued against this. One English literature professor argued that no matter one’s English ability, the choice to have sexual relations or not with another person was not linguistically based (i.e. a person cannot be tricked into having sex through a linguistic misunderstanding) and continued that statements to the contrary were, in fact, the dangerous assumption.19 However, this was the minority view in the popular discourse and there was a strong undercurrent of fear and concern in much of the mass media. This was, in some ways, a continuation of an earlier discourse on sexual relations with foreigners. From before the U.S. troops even landed in Japan following its surrender, there was widespread fear of the foreign male soldiers and the potential for mass rapes, perhaps because the barbaric behavior of Japanese forces in places such as Nanjing had taught that this was possible or even likely. Ironically, Prime Minister Ikeda, whose own daughters were chosen as Companions, was one of the central fi gures in the Japanese government response at the time. Then the Director Foreign and Domestic Bodies 81 of the Tax Bureau at the Ministry of Finance, he approved the request for money to set up and fi nance places for the American troops to go to relieve sexual desire, in other words, places of prostitution catering to the occupying troops. The rationale was that if they provided these women, the troops would be less likely to commit sexual crimes against other Japanese women: clearly they were willing to sacrifi ce those who ranked lower in social and class status in the hopes of protecting their own wives and daughters.20 At the same time, Japanese women who chose to associate with foreign males in the Occupation were often portrayed as race traitors. For defeated Japanese males, not only had they lost in the war, but now they were rendered sexually impotent as well.21 Just as during the Occupation, the government itself got involved with the issue as the Olympics approached, this time encouraging places of prostitution to close. This was done as part of the beautifi cation project of Tokyo and was an effort to clean up Japan’s image so that foreigners, particularly Westerners, did not see it as a stereotypical den of oriental pleasures and hedonism, as well as to reduce crime. It was clearly not aimed at preventing all prostitution, as the authorities also carried out blood testing for sexually transmitted diseases among women who worked at bars, cabarets, hotels, and inns, as well as Olympic workers at the Athlete’s Village. While not explicitly accusing them all of prostitution, the implication was that these women were or at least might be involved in it or other sexual relations with the visiting foreigners. The Second Subsection Chief for STD (sexually transmitted diseases) for the Tokyo Metropolitan Hygiene Offi ce stated the policy in a circuitous fashion: this policy was aimed at “those workers who might have physical interactions with foreigners here for the Olympics.”22 The purpose seemed to be preventing them from giving sexually transmitted diseases to foreigners rather than barring sexual relations, while at the same time closing down the most obvious places of prostitution. Hostess clubs, on the other hand, remained open throughout the Games and some catered to the visiting men. Inter- national relations, in all senses of the word, were acceptable, but only under the correct conditions that would leave a favorable impression of Japan. Japanese males, however, were not tested at all, even though they also interacted with foreigners and logically were just as capable of “physical interaction with foreigners.” There was also a class-based element to this. While the professional sex workers were targeted to prevent them from practicing their trade, working class women, such as hotel maids, were allowed to participate and interact with foreign males, but only if they were sexually healthy. The message for proper middle-class and upper-class women, on the other hand, was prevention and avoidance with more than a little xenophobia. The Wellness Section of the Tokyo Metropolitan Wel- fare Department’s Women’s Division published an annual Handbook for Young Women. Typically, it was a book of manners, health, morals, and customs, from advice on behaving like a proper young lady and 82 The East Asian Olympiads

planning a wedding to instructions for a new housewife and mother. The 1964 edition was radically different in content than previous years.23 There was a large section devoted to the upcoming Olympics from the Asahi Shinbun’s Fine Arts and Literature Section Chief, Ogiya¯ Sho¯zo¯, titled “Things a Girl Should Know—Before the Olympics.”24 He warned that the foreign men were only coming for fun in the Orient and that young women should avoid them. The head of the Women’s Division, Nakano Tsuya, told the Asahi Shinbun that foreign men believed Japa- nese women were sexually promiscuous and available. She referred to an article in the London-based Playboy, which reportedly claimed that nineteen out of twenty Japanese women approached in parks and on the street agreed to dates, and said young Japanese women needed to avoid making “mistakes” (machigai).25 The general message was that all foreign males were potential predators and that proper young Japanese women needed to be on their guard. However, it is unclear how accepted this message was among the young women of Tokyo. When the Asahi Shinbun asked several of them about the pamphlet, they did not agree with it. A worker at the Impe- rial Hotel called it “nothing more than a black ship uproar,” referring to the black ships that brought Commodore Matthew Perry to Japan in 1853 and often used as a shorthand for threatening foreigners. While the few women asked might have found it offensive, it was a recurring theme in the mass media and was mirrored in an offi cial document of the Tokyo bureaucracy. This was considered to be crucial information for proper young women’s lives in 1964 and reveals that there were clear limits to what many Japanese were comfortable with in regards to internationalism, while at the same time, of course, the government was utilizing them to aid foreigners in experiencing Japan. While the mass media refl ected fears of weak Japanese women and predatory foreign male athletes, it also sexualized the female, and especially foreign, athletic body as an object of desire. The Olympics are often referred to as competitions of strength and beauty, referring to the aesthetically pleasing nature of the sporting body. The early Olym- pic art exhibitions, logical places to examine beauty, focused largely on sports and the athletic body. The coverage of the Tokyo Games, however, most frequently used terminology for beauty as it pertained to the female body. Often labeled as a “beauty” (bijin) or “beautiful girl” (bisho¯jo), female bodies were held up for the male gaze. Swimming or gymnastics suits were common in these photos. Typically the body was at rest rather than in motion, giving a clearer image and also emphasizing the body rather than the sport. The weekly journal Shu¯kan Tokuho¯ even published a special edition devoted entirely to photos of Olympic beauties (bijo) and this was far from unusual.26 However, the choices of photos and articles revealed a strong prejudice for only certain types of “beauties.” The objects of Japanese male desire overwhelmingly came from two groups: Japanese and white foreign women. Even more striking, almost all images of “beautiful” foreign women were not only whites, Foreign and Domestic Bodies 83 but typically had light-colored hair. The well-known French swimmer and medal hopeful, Christine “Kiki” Caron, fi tted this role and image perfectly. She was the most common object of lust in the mass media. Full page images of her swimsuit-clad body in magazines and articles chronicling her arrival and performance were common in a multitude of publications, although she was by no means the only light-haired Westerner held up in this manner.27 The Shu¯kan Gendai magazine held its own beauty contest (bijin kontesuto), relying on interviews with Japanese staff and foreign athletes to evaluate the foreign women. It noted that the Japanese female athletes did not mingle with foreign athletes, but that the foreign women purposely avoided their own din- ing hall to eat with the men.28 Its conclusion was that while Caron was the most popular, Czechoslovakian gymnast Vera Caslavska was the most beautiful. In effect, it placed these women, who would never compete directly as athletes, into a sexualized competition for male consumption. Japanese swimmers and gymnasts also served as objects of desire, although the more famous women of the volleyball team were usually not included in this discourse.29 In most cases, however, these were purely pictorial displays with the more explicitly sexualized discourse of desire. However, black females were almost never portrayed. The few excep- tions were when they were in the background of competition, such as in the aforementioned special edition of the Shu¯kan Tokuho¯ or in more generic pictorials of Olympic “beauty and power” rather than “beauties.” In addition, the static bodies of black females were in non-sexual poses, as opposed to the often more provocative and lightly clad bodies of the white foreign females. Non-Japanese Asian females were almost entirely excised from this discourse of desire.30 The only place I could fi nd them in this context was a picture of several Korean female athletes talking to male Congolese athletes. It is captioned “Background consultations of foreign athletes, even when words are inconvenient. . . .”31 While the caption implies athletes of two countries trying to communicate without a common language, the image itself showed two female South Korean athletes in very close proximity to two athletes from Congo. Furthermore, the text on that page was mostly concerned with efforts to keep all males from the female athlete village. I have found no similar pictorial examples of Japanese female athletes in close conversations with foreign males in the mass media, perhaps refl ecting a discomfort or unease about it. Athletes from less-advanced Asian countries conversing with male athletes from less-advanced— and non-white—countries were not threatening to Japanese and might have even been reassuring of their self-perceived place among the developed—and white—countries. In any case, black and non-Japanese Asian females were not portrayed as objects of sexual desire, while Japanese and especially white (Western) females were. These pictorials of white foreign women closely resembled the somewhat common images of Western women that appeared in men’s magazines in the 1960s. In some cases, these were of famous actresses 84 The East Asian Olympiads and models; in other cases, they were nudes of the exotic Other for the Japanese male to consume. These continued during the Olym- pics itself, and in some cases, were explicitly linked to the Games. For example, Bungei shunju¯ ran a black and white special pictorial in its Manga Dokuhon magazine titled, “Nu¯do Orinpikku” (Nude Olympics).32 In this case, each of the fi ve models was labeled as “delegates” (daihyo¯) of fi ve different countries participating in the real Olympiad: England, Germany, Italy, America, and Greece. In addition, they only represented Western countries and were all white. The magazine’s cover was of a Japanese model giving the stereotypical “peace” pose. She wore an imitation of the victor’s laurel wreath on her head and a Japanese fl ag as a toga, which was also a play on the offi cial emblem of the 1964 Tokyo Summer Olympics. Clearly, it was acceptable for men to gaze at the Western female form, even while forbidding women from doing the same. The 1964 Tokyo Summer Olympics were the fi rst time that large numbers of foreigners were welcomed and invited to Japan. While it marked Japan’s return and restoration to the world community, it also revealed the limits of this through gendered anxieties. The public discourse refl ected a clear concern about young, especially middle- and upper-class women being attracted to and preyed upon by white foreign males, while at the same time, accepting their utilization as translators and also as the more elite Companions to ensure that foreigners enjoyed their stays. Lower-class women were either banished from sight or tested to ensure STDs were not passed along to the treasured guests. Meanwhile, men were permitted to lust after foreign female athletes, but this only extended to white Westerners and fellow Japanese. Other women were not included in this discourse of sex and desire. The Tokyo Olympiad provides us with a window into Japanese racial and ethnic sexual desires and anxieties as they reentered the international community and laid claim to a place in the First World and status as the leader of Asia.

NOTES 1 The Games of the XVIII Olympiad Tokyo 1964: The Ofﬁ cial Report of the Organizing Committee, Volume 1 (Tokyo: Organizing Committee for the Games of the XVIII Olympiad, 1966), p. 106. 2 In addition, it seems likely that many qualiﬁ ed adults would already be employed and unable to help or devote the necessary time. It also removed competition from businesses which would almost certainly offer better pay for recent college graduates. Focusing on college students most likely reduced competition for their services as well as their cost. 3 Games of the XVIII Olympiad Tokyo 1964, p. 106. 4 Games of the XVIII Olympiad Tokyo 1964, p. 107. 5 Games of the XVIII Olympiad Tokyo 1964, p. 108. No gender breakdown was given for the student-interpreters. 6 “‘Ts u¯yaku senta¯’ kaki iredoki,” Sankei Shinbun, October 21, 1964. Foreign and Domestic Bodies 85

7 While the Offi cial Report gives their number at thirty-four, media outlets routinely gave higher fi gures. The cause of this discrepancy is unclear. 8 Games of the XVIII Olympiad Tokyo 1964, p. 84. 9 For example, see “‘To¯kyo¯ Gorin konpanion’ shusho¯ reizyo¯ Noriko-sanra,” Sankei Shinbun, August 15, 1964. There was also one “blue eyed” Companion: a German woman who was living in Japan with her American husband and transferred from leading a team of foreign translators to the Companions due the lower time requirements. Among the Companions was also the future wife of Nagashima Shigeo, the famous baseball player and manager of the Yomiuri Giants. 10 The fi rst female IOC members were selected in 1981. They were Flor Isava Fonseca of Venezuela and Pirjo Haggman of Finland. 11 Azuma Ryu¯taro¯, Orinpikku (Tokyo: Waseda Shobo¯, 1962), pp. 121–122. 12 “Naru ka: Tokyo Orinpikku no yume,” Shu¯kan Asahi, June 1, 1958, p. 10. 13 See, for example, “unlabeled photo,” May 1958, Record Series 26/20/37, Box 295, Photographs 1957–1975, University of Illinois Archives. This photo is from the May tour and shows Japanese men and IOC President Avery Brundage imitating the geisha as they dance together in a line. 14 “Saa, honban e: rikujo¯jin saigo¯ no riha¯saru,” Shu¯kan Yomiuri, September 20, 1964. 15 “Orinpikku arakaruto: kaiwa no ressun,” Sankei Shinbun, September 5, 1964, evening edition. 16 The kimono clad woman were certainly not all entertainers. Many stores had their female clerks dress in kimono if they felt foreigners might visit. 17 “Fujinbuch o¯ no ureutsu: gaijin ni yowai josei,” Asahi Shinbun, September 7, 1964. 18 Ishigaki Ayako, “Orinpikku watashi no shinpai: no¯ o hakkiri to,” Fujin Ko¯ron, October 1964, pp. 76–77. 19 Maruya Saiichi, “Abunai eigo,” Fujin Ko¯ron, October 1964, pp. 83–87. 20 Yuki Tanaka, Japan’s Comfort Women: Sexual Slavery and Prostitution during World War II and the U.S. Occupation (London: Routledge, 2001), pp. 141–143. 21 John W. Dower, Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II (New York: W. W. Norton, 1999), p. 135. See also the discussion of this in Karen Kelsky, Women on the Verge: Japanese Women, Western Dreams (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2001), pp. 45–84. 22 “Hosutesu ketsueki kensa no kyo¯ko¯,” Shu¯kan Shincho¯, May 11, 1964, p. 114. 23 Wakai josei no techo¯ (Tokyo: To¯kyo¯-to minseikyoku fujinbu fukushika, 1964). 75,000 copies were published for 1964. 24 Wakai josei no techo ¯ , pp. 29–44. 25 “Fujinbuch o¯ no ureutsu: gaijin ni yowai josei.” 26 “Bijo no saiten,” Shu¯kan Tokuho¯, March 11, 1965. 27 See for example,“Bisho¯jo Kyaron,” Shu¯kan Asahi, October 9, 1964. 28 “Josei senshu mura no bijin contesuto,” Shu¯kan Gendai, October 22, 1964, p. 13. 29 For a short treatment of the women’s volleyball team, see Chapter 5 of Yoshikuni Igarashi, Bodies of Memory: Narratives of War in Postwar Japanese Culture, 1945–1970 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000). The training the women underwent, and the discourse surrounding it, 86 The East Asian Olympiads

rendered them almost asexual creatures. This image was most likely reinforced when at least one of them put off marriage and motherhood for a chance at Olympic gold. 30 In fairness, there were many more Western than Asian women participating in the Olympics in that era. 31 “Rupo: Senshumura tenyawanya,” Shu¯kan Yomiuri, October 1964. 32 H. Lane, “Nu¯do Orinpikku,” Bungei shunju¯ manga dokuhon, November 1, 1964. 6 Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles, and Hegemonic Legacies: Retrospective Tales of Seoul’s Olympic Regime1

James P. Thomas

he 1988 Summer Games in Seoul embodied all that is good and Tbad about the international Olympics: national pride and prideful nationalism, global equality and national greatness, redeemed hosts and maligned absentees, open-door diplomacy and closed-door deals, new forms of détente and new forms of discord, democratic order and armed commando security, Confucian propriety and restrained mili- tancy, record-breaking athletes and dope-aided athletics,2 impenetrable guests and over-exposed hosts, athletic equanimity and contested judging, great competition and wronged matches, gold-medal under- dogs and defeated champions, fair play and quid pro quo, fair-use diplomacy and political usury, much-awaited free speech and broadcast monopolies,3 corporate sponsorship and commercial corporatism, fi duciary responsibility and Olympic profi teering, world brotherhood and athletic elitism, inclusive diversity and staged oneness, human equality and golden exceptionalism, self effacement and self congratu- lations,4 and jubilant memories and tarnished moments, or jubilant moments and tarnished memories.5 Many of these same paradoxes played out again at the XXIXth Olympiad in Beijing, closely mirroring the XXIVth Olympiad on its twentieth anniversary, and lending the two Games to ready comparison.6 On the fi eld and in its ceremonies, one might say Beijing outdid Seoul’s “spectacular” with its “spellbinding” pyrotechnic displays, cutting edge special effects, and massive theatrical renditions of epic culture performed by precisely choreographed and elaborately costumed armies of performers. Seoul and Beijing both projected “feel-good” iconic images of a unitary “cultural tradition,” which were embedded 88 The East Asian Olympiads in, and juxtaposed to, “cutting-edge” technologies. But of course, Beijing’s stage was much bigger and its audience several times larger. Its 600 million domestic viewers alone equaled the total global audience for the Seoul Games. Off stage, Chinese leaders brandished Beijing’s designation to be host as an international endorsement of the legitimacy of their regime, just as Chun Doo Hwan had done after Seoul won the Olympic bid twenty years earlier. There was little basis to deny that both had been endorsed, just as the International Olympic Committee (IOC) had quite explicitly endorsed representatives of the former Axis Powers—Rome in 1960, Tokyo in 1964, and Munich in 1972—as a way of welcoming them back to the “community of nations.” The Beijing regime, like that in Seoul, suppressed political protest and expression in the name of maintaining “security.” The issue of political prisoners was raised on both occasions, but this was muted in Seoul’s case by the Cold War climate at that time. During the Games, car owners in Seoul and Beijing were restricted from driving to reduce pollution and congestion; locals were cautioned to stay clear of areas designated for sports venues and foreign guests; and certain groups who didn’t convey the right image were pressured to vacate the city, or at least get off of the streets. Likewise, new codes of hygiene were enforced and anything deemed “unsightly,” “chaotic,” or “underdeveloped” was targeted to be rooted out, all in the name of living up to “international” standards. For the sake of urban renewal, hundreds of thousands of residents of each capital were evicted in Beijing and Seoul by representatives of their respective states. There was considerable opposition to eviction and media coverage of it in both contexts, which took a toll on state political capital, at home and abroad. Seoul and Beijing were both charged with “going overboard” in the Western press, but many Seoulites and Beijingers came to rationalize these strict command-and-control operations as legitimate, given the high stakes of the Games for their respective nations. No doubt, the stakes were high: success would thrust each nation into the elite circle of the few nations so anointed,7 but any serious mishap could bring international disgrace. National reputations and futures hung in the balance. To use a recent cliché, the Games in Seoul and Beijing were “too big to fail,” and not just for their respective hosts. In the run up to 2008, Beijing was often likened to Seoul, especially in media speculation over developments in democratization and trade liberalization that might result from being host to the Olympics.8 In all of the talk of the transformative power of the Olympics, it seems that no one had taken account of Mexico City in 1968, which experienced no demonstrable political or economic benefi ts from the Games. Advocates of neo-liberalism and “open-door” policies in the media and elsewhere were enamored with the idea that the Seoul Olympiad had been the catalyst that brought about democratization in South Korea. After all, Tiananmen, the collapse of the Berlin Wall, and democratization in the Republic of Korea (ROK) all came about within a year Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles 89 of the Seoul Games. Neo-liberal pundits envisioned similar things for Beijing. But, in hindsight, it appears that 2008 brought about little if any lasting political change. And as Bruce Cumings has pointed out, the Korean democratization movement was a long struggle that was well underway by 1987 or 1988, having evolved from Park’s suspension of civil rights in the mid-1970s.9 And although hosting the Olym- pics may have strengthened the movement and hastened the process, the populist forces of democratization in South Korea—often faced off against neo-liberalist forces—were unyielding and would have continued to promote political change with or without the Games. And so, “the Seoul Olympics cannot claim to have caused the process of democratization and political change in South Korea” (italics in original).10 So what was the real political legacy of these two Olympiads? If the evidence from Seoul tells us anything, it is that the state was the primary benefi ciary of the Olympics’ political and economic largesse, which has never fully been acknowledged. As I will demonstrate in this chapter, systematic analysis of the Seoul Olympiad shows how the ROK fostered an Olympic regime to promote state agendas and recoup lost political and moral credibility. What I mean by “Olympic regime” closely parallels more familiar regimes: military, imperial, colonial, nuclear, apartheid, terrorist, counter-terrorist—in short, any highly disciplined regime that uses intimidation, coercion, and force (or the threat of it) to assert its power and carry out its agenda, usually by mobilizing masses of people in a “common cause.” James Scott offers perhaps the best analysis of such regimes and their impact on national landscapes in Seeing Like a State.11 Yet, such regimes do not operate alone. The IOC and the Olympic Movement exert a degree of hegemony, intimidation, and coercion that makes them complicit in the actions and developments of every host nation. Those actions and developments defi ne any given Olympic regime and differ across time and space. So they must be analyzed on a case by case basis.

BEFORE: NATIONALIST DESIRES IN THE SEVEN-YEAR RUN-UP TO THE 1988 SEOUL OLYMPIAD In 1981, when it won the nomination to be Olympic host, and for the next seven years, Seoul faced an enormous challenge: it had to break the negative pattern of the last fi ve Olympics which had all been marred by boycotts or bloodshed.12 In Mexico City (1968) hundreds of students, activists, and bystanders in a street demonstration were gunned down by paramilitary forces in the Tlatelolco massacre just ten days before the opening day of the XIXth Olympiad.13 In Munich (1972) a hostage massacre left eleven Israeli athletes, one police offi cer, and a handful of perpetrators dead. In 1976, twenty-eight African nations mounted an anti-apartheid boycott of the Montreal Games because the IOC refused to ban New Zealand after its athletes had taken part in a sports event in South Africa. Montreal was tapped as host due to fears of a political backlash if either of the two superpowers—Moscow and Los Angeles 90 The East Asian Olympiads being the only other bidders—were to host. And the public debt Mon- treal incurred in 1976 took thirty years to pay off.14 Two years earlier in the Olympic bidding contest, the Soviet Union— having lost the 1976 bid to Montreal—threatened to pull out from the Olympics permanently if it did not win the award for 1980, and so secured the bid for Moscow. In Moscow (1980) a U.S.-led boycott in response to the Soviet incursion into Afghanistan a year earlier kept sixty-one countries from competing. And in Los Angeles (1984) the Soviets led an Eastern Bloc boycott of the Games, which was taken as payback for 1980. At the time, the record of tragic bloodshed, political polarization, and fi nancial debt incurred by the system of revolving hosts fuelled serious talk of returning the Olympics permanently to its birthplace in Greece, In the end, all of the diffi culties of the fi ve Olympiads preceding 1988 acted to serve Seoul by raising levels of pre- emptive caution and lowering expectations and the temporally defi ned threshold of success. Although it may be hard for us to believe today, hosting the Olympic Games had little appeal in 1981. Only two cities bid on the 1988 Games and Seoul won. And when Japan suggested that Korea might lack the wherewithal to host the games,15 it eroded its own base of support for Nagoya, Seoul’s only competition. Even some Nagoyans organized into a movement called “Trops”16 to defeat their own city’s bid, out of concern over the environmental impact of hosting the Olympics. Based on the repeating pattern of marred Summer Games at the time, the IOC and Korean offi cials had good reason to fear that Seoul could become another statistic in this legacy. One more repeat of a crisis in Seoul might cripple the Olympic Movement and the viability of the rotating Games. Compounding the usual fears, the ROK was a constant target of North Korean attacks and/or accidents, which even further heightened concerns that the Olympic Games could fall prey to terrorist attack or otherwise be disrupted. In September 1983, Seoul-bound Korean Airlines fl ight 007 was shot down over the Sea of Japan by Soviet jet intercep- tors, killing all 269 on board. It had strayed into prohibited Soviet air- space allegedly because of a navigational error.17 A month later, a bomb explosion in Rangoon killed seventeen members of Chun’s presidential delegation, including four cabinet ministers. Chun, the intended target, survived only because his car was minutes late for an event and his arrival had been announced prematurely. On September 14, 1986, just six days before the Asian Games in Seoul, a bomb exploded behind a vending machine at Kimpo Airport, killing fi ve people and injuring twenty-six. Then on November 29, 1987, Korean Airlines fl ight 858 exploded over the Indian Ocean, killing all 115 passengers and crew. One of the two perpetrators committed suicide; the other later admitted that they had been ordered by the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK) to carry out this heinous act in order disrupt the Games and destabilize the ROK. In October 1979, President Park Chung Hee was assassinated, bringing to an end his eighteen-year rule and any remaining tolerance Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles 91 for dictatorship and military rule. But less than three months later, army general Chun Doo Hwan took power by coup d’état and installed himself as head of the military government, in his view, “to complete Park’s legacy.” In Korean eyes, the barbarity of this power grab, his culpability for the Kwangju Massacre only fi ve months later,18 and his lack of any reasonable qualifi cations to be president seriously compromised his legitimacy and authority from the moment he took power. Moreover, the ROK had not had a peaceful transfer of power since its inception, which further endangered his political survival. But Chun did manage to remain in power for seven long years, until demands for direct presidential elections fi nally forced him to step down. Seoul’s designation to host the Games furnished a lifeline of political support carrying him through his last six years in power. The context of preparing for the Olympiad enabled Chun to hold his political opposition at bay until June of 1987. Until that time, he effectively carried forward a program of development, building on that of Park Chung Hee, the late president, under whose helm the Seoul Olympics had fi rst been envisioned.19 This was a program of monumental proportions, which mapped out a comprehensive transformation of Korea and used the Olympics as a means of penetrating into every corner of the nation. But often this was not motivated by social or structural need, nor by anything South Korean. Based on an interview with Bae Kyung-Dong, a former planning director of the Seoul metropolitan government, Kim Jung In has very persuasively argued that “the fi ve-year Han River Development Plan of the early 1980s was inspired by . . . satellite images [confi rming that] the North Korean government had made great progress in modernizing . . . the DaeDong [River corridor].”20 According to Kim, such images of the North became the standard to measure “the superiority of the two Korean States,” because they “conveyed the visual rhetoric of the ‘enemy’s modernization.’”21 This served to transform those things that were seen to propel Korea ahead and move it into the ranks of developed nations: some technological, others material, and yet others social and cultural. For example, because broadcasting the Olympiad and servicing media networks required the most advanced telecommunications infrastructure, Seoul went ahead and transformed the whole system. It turned everything over to the private fi rm DACOM, which developed the new technology, a designated data systems network in 1984, using fi ber and digital systems instead of the older telephone lines.22 This system was more advanced than Japan’s telephone-based one at that time and has enabled Korea to stay ahead of Japan in telecommunications infrastructure ever since. This was the foundation of Korea’s very fast and robust broadband system. Under the Olympic mandate, such development projects that might otherwise have faced funding problems or public opposition were easily pushed forward. This mandate provided a seven-year-plus reprieve for Chun and Roh Tae Woo, his hand-picked presidential successor, during which time almost everything could be rationalized as “necessary” for the Games. 92 The East Asian Olympiads

It was as head of the Seoul Olympic Organizing Committee (SLOOC) that Roh was groomed by Chun to replace him as president of the ROK, so central was the Seoul Olympics to the Chun’s regime.23 Motivated by the need to defl ect attention away from any charges of culpability for the Kwangju Massacre and the 1979 coup, as well as their Cold War military and intelligence experience, Chun and Roh had extra incen- tives to promote development in technology in the ROK. When Korean chaebol corporations were implicated as major sources of funding for much of the corruption and slush funds under Chun and Roh, the crisis of legitimacy also extended to them as well. However, the context of the Games helped contain this crisis, as only an Olympiad—or something of that magnitude—could. It also kept the crisis from completely compromising the legitimacy of the state itself, even after the ruling party had been so badly discredited and seriously threatened. As the primary source of government slush funds, Korea’s chaebol conglomerates were clearly implicated, but they were far less tarnished than other organs of the state. However, with the government compromised, they were the only national entity with the capacity, in terms of size, industrial production capacity, and sheer numbers of employees, to carry out a project the size and scale of the Olympics as a national mission. The seven-year run-up to the Olympic Games provided the auspices for Seoul to effectively establish a trajectory and momentum of development through which it aimed to launch itself into the ranks of the First World and distance itself from the Third World and any traces of its legacy of underdevelopment.24 Much was accomplished in the seven years of preparation between 1981 and 1988, both in terms of building new infrastructure and rallying Koreans behind these preparations as a national project. The nation was being readied for the Olympics just as the facilities were being readied for the athletes, media, and spectators. Although social harmony and world peace—and even equality and justice—were often touted in 1988, the offi cial slogan of the Games, “Seoul to the World, the World to Seoul,” conveyed what was really being peddled. Indeed Seoul’s disproportionate share of development largesse left little equality or justice for those who lived outside of the capital city. And even in Seoul, three quarters of a million residents were evicted,25 largely on the pretext that their homes were too unsightly for a city hosting the Olympics, and many others could not afford admission tickets or were simply not included in the international event. By 1988, South Korean cars, ships, and microchips were in circulation all over the world. But even by then, two decades after the industrial “take-off,” Korea lacked international name recognition and, for most foreign observers, it remained closely wedded to Korean War images and memories from three and-a-half decades earlier. In the words of one Korean insider, “[t]he foreign view of Korea [was one of] a land of war, political strife, and military dictatorship,”26 which any incident or media misrepresentation only threatened to reinforce. Lingering Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles 93 images of a poor, war-torn Korea, dependent on outside aid and military protection contributed to an element of stigma and shame among Koreans, which was palpable even in the months leading up to the Games. Hosting the Olympics was designed to overcome that shame and bolster South Korea’s international reputation. This meant demolishing and eradicating squatter shanties which were seen as remnants of underdevelopment and a source of national shame. In this context, achieving Olympic “success” for Korea required more than avoiding terrorist attack and keeping Olympic competition open and fair. It required demonstrating the success of both socio-economic mobility and development infrastructure. Success demanded gaining name recognition for Korea and putting Korea on the world map. The pursuit of this success, coupled with the transformation of Korea structurally and politically, mobilized the nation and fueled civic and national pride. It gave Koreans a new sense of their nation, a sense of national honor. Korea’s military government had effectively used the Olympics to keep itself afl oat from 1981 to 1992. Just when Chun needed it most, Seoul’s designation to host the Olympics was used as an endorsement of the legitimacy of his military regime. The imminence of the Games and the necessity of making all of the necessary preparations were used to keep people from challenging state authority or disrupting those preparations. But fi fteen months before the Games, in a climate of intense international scrutiny over political instability in Korea and Seoul’s readiness to host the Olympiad, Chun overstepped, and the political tables were suddenly turned against him. In June 1987, when he announced that he would not be stepping down until after the Games, public outrage erupted in massive strikes and pro-democracy demonstrations that threatened to shut down the entire Korean economy. Koreans demanded direct presidential elections and an end to the electoral college system that gave the ruling party a virtual lock on the presidency. Roh was pressed into making a declaration on June 29, promising direct elections in December which would reestablish civilian rule. This lent some credibility to the ruling party’s talk of democracy and, with nine months to go before the Olympiad, enabled Roh to win the presidency by a plurality, because the opposition was divided along regional lines. As soon as Chun left offi ce in February 1988, what little legitimacy remained of his presidency started to unravel through revelations of massive corruption, graft, and bribery. His legitimacy problems continued to fester through the Games and after. Looming large over the Korean political landscape as the Games quickly approached were the threat that strikes and demonstrations could resume at any time, Chun’s culpability for the Kwangju Massacre, evidence of millions in slush funds from political payoffs that Chun’s family and in-laws had acquired, and revelations of fi fty deaths in a political “reeducation” camp set up when Chun fi rst took power.27 Being in the international 94 The East Asian Olympiads spotlight between late 1981 and the 1988 Summer Games had also enabled students and political activists to hold the regime’s feet to the fi re. The thousands of strikes and demonstrations in June 1987, the pinnacle of Korea’s populist (Minjung) movement, marked the turning point in Korea’s democratization process. Within a few short years, this process would transform South Korea’s political structure. Confrontations between riot police and protesters—including church activists, blue collar laborers on strike, and many middle class supporters of democracy, as well as students—reached a peak in late spring of 1987 and continued well into the summer of 1988. The volatility of political unrest throughout South Korea was a major cause of concern internationally, as was the state’s ability to effectively deal with political instability and maintain order. Even with strong public support for the Olympics, the Roh government could not suppress all of the strikes and demonstrations going on in the early summer of 1988. That is, not until opposition party leaders, and especially Kim Dae Jung, made public pleas for everyone to suspend protests and strikes for the sake of carrying out the Olympiad. Only then were most corners of dissent appeased. As miraculously ironic as it was, on the very ground where the hot war that defi ned the Cold War was waged, Seoul would be the last Cold War Olympics. The same Roh Tae Woo who only nine months earlier had campaigned on the slogan “security and stability”—a shorthand for hard-line anti-communism and the mantra of the ruling party for over thirty-fi ve years—had somehow managed to pass himself off as a “moderate” or political “realist,” and friend to the Eastern Bloc, in the warm and peaceful glow of the Olympiad. Eastern Bloc teams were warmly received and the friendly mood in Seoul went a long way in soothing Cold War tensions even within the short span of the Games. The huge debt that Seoul owed to Eastern Bloc states for effectively helping diffuse the “North Korea problem,” combined with the excitement over everyone coming to Seoul as Olympic guests, had transformed the face of communism. Gone was the red menace, even before any of the Eastern Bloc teams arrived. The ROK’s longstanding reliance on the mantle of anti-communism as an ever-ready foundation of authority and a means of countering its legitimacy problems was quickly—and abruptly—nearing its end. Ever since the Helsinki Games in 1952 and the fi rst participation by a Soviet team, the Olympics had been a Cold War battleground where rivals used athletic prowess, medal counts, and dominance in certain sports to prove the superiority of their political-economic systems. This did not bode well for Seoul, given that South Korea had no relations with Eastern Bloc states, as Cold War politics precluded them. And its relations with non-aligned nations were not much better. The ROK was counting on the Games to convey a sense of Korea’s economic prosperity to the world and to position it to reach out to Eastern Bloc nations in order to establish full trade and diplomatic relations. Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles 95

In June 1984, a month after the U.S.S.R. announced it would boycott the Los Angeles Games, Italian Prime Minister Guilio Andreotti suggested to an ROK minister that co-hosting the 1988 Olympics with DPRK might be necessary for its success.28 By early fall, the entire Eastern Bloc collectively announced concern, and the Soviet Union, Germany, Czechoslovakia, and Cuba independently challenged the IOC’s decision, calling the choice of Seoul “inappropriate” or a “mistake.” Only after Mikhail Gorbachev was elected head of the Politburo months later did these challenges subside. But challenges from Cuba did not let up, as it became the most vociferous proxy for the DPRK, demanding that Pyongyang be allowed to co-host the Games and threatening to wage a boycott with other socialist states if it was not. Preserving Seoul’s hold on the Games became something of a personal crusade for the IOC’s head, Juan Antonio Samaranch, who went to great lengths to win the support of the Eastern Bloc states and appease the North to prevent another boycott. He had just the credentials and connections to do this, having been the Spanish ambassador to the U.S.S.R. from 1977 to 1980. The IOC continued in very serious negotiations with the North and other socialist states over the DPRK’s participation for four long years, but ultimately to no avail, at least not for the North. The IOC did offer fi ve sports venues to Pyongyang—the fi rst time two cities had been considered to host—but North Korea demanded eight or more, for an even split with the South. By mid- summer 1988, Chinese and Soviet support for Seoul helped dash any of Pyongyang’s remaining hopes of co-hosting as Seoul’s equal, or disrupting the Olympiad to make it a failure. Militant student activists in the South who were sympathetic to the North’s position staged numerous campus demonstrations throughout the Games and threatened to disrupt the Olympiad itself, complaining that Seoul’s monopoly on the Games ran counter to Korean unifi cation interests and served to perpetuate the status quo of U.S. military occupation of the South.29 North Korea kept up its demands to co- host right up to until a fortnight before the Games began, but by then the conspicuous presence of all of the other teams overwhelmed any thoughts of North Korea. The giant face of the Olympic clock in front of Seoul City Hall, counting down the days until the opening ceremony, conveyed the palpable national mood of anxious anticipation and yearning. It was a yearning to be recognized and respected, and to assume a place among a “higher order” of nations, and an anxiousness that anything could happen, as their nation’s modern history had demonstrated only too well. Washington Post reporter Fred Hiatt conveyed the Korean sense of make-or-break stakes in hosting the Games and their intense concern over how their nation would be perceived from the outside:

South Koreans, after spending seven years and over $3 billion preparing for the Games, are extremely concerned about the impression foreigners will be taking home. Still a developing country with an 96 The East Asian Olympiads

average yearly per-capita income of $3,000, South Korea hopes the Olympics will help lead the country into the ranks of developed nations, both in fact and in world perception. The entire population of Seoul seems to be working and willing the games toward success, holding its collective breath that the Olympics will proceed without mistakes, embarrassment or terrorist attack.30

DURING: STATE SPECTACLES, BOXING RINGS, AND NBC T-SHIRTS The opening and closing ceremonies were skillfully crafted, visually stimulating spectacles that were designed to dazzle television audiences across the globe. The opening ceremony was a careful mix of ceremonial spectacle, technical glitz, and cultural heritage conveying national greatness, combined with themes of world peace, friendship, and harmony. The focal point of the opening was the spectacle of a sophisticated skydiving maneuver involving dozens of jump- ers descending in the shape of the fi ve interlocking Olympic rings, a spectacle that was clearly designed to outdo the techno-spectacle of the opening ceremony in Los Angeles four years earlier. According to Margaret Dilling, the international press most frequently cited it as a “Masterpiece of God”; the Associated Press billed it as the “best and biggest Olympic Show combining Oriental mysticism with high tech”; a Hong Kong editorial claimed it “enhanced the prestige of all Asia”; and the Kyong Hyang Newspaper cast it as “a grand dramatic saga awakening national self-respect” (chajon).31 After all was said and done, the man most responsible for the Seoul Games, Chun Doo Hwan, was unwelcome to attend the opening ceremony—or any other ceremonies or events—because of public outrage over the numerous allegations against him. Student activists threatened to take action if he showed up. Chun himself conceded that his participation would cause disruption. The most ardent student activists had contingency plans to disrupt the marathon on October 2, the last day of the sporting events. And just in case, 50,000 security forces were deployed along the 26-mile course, standing only meters apart. Following on lingering anguish in Korea over revelations of U.S. involvement or complicity in the 1980 Kwangju Massacre, anti-Americanism hit a fever pitch in the middle of the Games. This coalesced in the aftermath of a welterweight boxing bout between a Bulgarian and a Korean who was the gold medal favorite. When the fi ght ended and the Bulgarian was declared the winner, Korean coaches and fans physically went after the New Zealand referee of the bout, who had also been responsible for point deductions and a controversial decision that went against a Korean boxer four years earlier in Los Angeles. Believing that the referee from New Zealand had colluded with the Bulgarian coach to fi x the fi ght using arbitrary point deductions against the Korean, Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles 97 the coaches and spectators stormed the ring, throwing chairs and stomping on the judges’ tables. The lights went out, the referee was assaulted, and everything was caught on live television by NBC. And, as if taking his cue from the thousands of sit-ins that Korean labor and students had waged over the last year, the losing Korean fi ghter protested the decision by staging a sit-in at the center of the boxing ring.32 Predictably, NBC broadcast this protest live, infusing the voice-over with some rather biting commentary: “Where is the security?” “Why don’t they do something with him?” and “How can they let this go on?”33 This continued for the full eighteen minutes of live coverage. Of course locals in Korea at that time had no way of seeing or even knowing about NBC’s telecast, much less reacting to it. In a public announcement the next day, the head coach of the Korean boxing team resigned in shame over the incident. Apologies appeared in the newspapers and there was a real sense of contrition among Koreans. But when the Korean media began rebroadcasting the NBC telecast that had aired in all of its broadcast markets, the mood quickly shifted against NBC and against the United States. When viewed through the lens of Korea’s national media, NBC’s extensive live coverage of what was obviously an embarrassing incident for the host country was seen as a clear case of biased reporting that hurt Korea’s reputation. This fueled a sense of national outrage. Looking at the record of events in real time, it was Korean television rebroadcasts rather than NBC’s original telecast (or the initial reaction from it) that fueled this outrage. In other words, the real animosities stemmed from reactions to the Korean media's depictions of the boxing incident, which had a domino effect on everything else. Having spent $400 million for exclusive broadcast rights, NBC had pressed Korea to adopt Daylight Saving Time and move all of the gold medal fi nals to the afternoon to fi t in with prime time in the United States. Locals believed that by airing this incident as it did and with the global reach that it had, NBC brought shame to Korea, and so brought shame on NBC itself. For many Koreans, the broadcast made the United States a blabber-mouthing bully. This only worsened when the Korean media began revisiting some of its own earlier footage, including scenes of raucous, free- spirited U.S. athletes parading into the stadium on opening day. The demeanor of the American team now looked quite disrespectful, especially in contrast to the respectful poise of athletes from other nations. The Korean media also brought up NBC’s earlier broadcasts, featuring Korean posin’tang (dog meat soup), prostitution, industrial development, and scenes from the Korean War that had aired in the United States over the weeks and months leading up to the Games. Until then, only those living in the United States, including Korean- Americans, had seen these pieces on Korea. There was concern that the exposure given to shanties, prostitution, and posin’tang would make Korea a specter to the outside world. This reinforced the same 98 The East Asian Olympiads types of stereotypes of the past that the Olympiad was intended to redress. The whole purpose of the games was to push ahead, not get stuck on things from the past. Compounding this, on the evening of the Korean boxing coach’s res- ignation, fi ve members of the U.S. swimming team stole a bronze statue from a hotel and went parading through the streets of Seoul to celebrate their gold medal victory earlier in the day. They were promptly arrested, disqualifi ed from further competition, and sent home. This incident further damaged the stature of the United States and Americans in Korea. To top this all off, a Seoul printer reported having received a T-shirt design showing two boxers in armor standing on the red and blue halves of the round Taeguk symbol from the Korean fl ag, apparently from someone at NBC. It seemed that the T-shirts were intended as presents for the NBC crew who covered the boxing venue. The Korean media quickly circulated sketches of this design, which was widely seen as a case of defacing the Korean national fl ag. There was bitter resentment towards NBC. This underscored the power of global media giants to make or break world events and the intensity of popular reactions that this could trigger based on deep feelings of manipulation and injustice. The various guffaws of Americans in Korea had evolved from insensitivity, to cultural slight, and fi nally to a transgression of national honor. In many of the team competitions, Koreans unexpectedly began identifying with Eastern Bloc athletes. And when U.S. teams played, many Korean spectators cheered for the opposing teams, and some openly jeered American athletes during games. Much of this could be seen on international and domestic TV broadcasts. This was a turning point in Korea-U.S. relations, at least at the collective and interpersonal levels, if not in state-to-state relations. When American athletes arrived in Seoul before the opening of the Games, the United States was South Korea’s closest ally and no one anticipated anything bad happening between them and their Korean hosts. But toward the end of the Games, American athletes had lost tremendous stature and good will, and anti-Americanism had reached an all time high in South Korea. Over the last days of the Olympiad, the American athletes received extensive briefi ngs on the growing anti- Americanism they were seeing among their Korean hosts. And at the closing ceremony on the last day, they showed extreme restraint. Only then did the antipathy in Korea subside. Koreans responded to what they perceived as attacks on Korea with defensive nationalism. Through it, most asserted national pride during the Olympics and were fully mobilized, proudly in support of their nation. In any case, it strengthened Korean nationalism at a critical juncture. But, if the boxing incident had never happened, there is no telling if Korean anti-American nationalism might have taken a different direction. What was clear is that these confrontations and tensions with the United States, and Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles 99 the Olympiad as a whole, compressed the political divide between the Korean Right and Left.

AFTER: HEGEMONIC LEGACIES, STATE INFRASTRUCTURES, AND SUPER-NATIONAL BODIES To host the XIVth Olympiad, Seoul faced serious opposition. North Korea, militant students and, for a short time, the socialist states all tried to challenge or stop the Games in Seoul. The latter had the power and could have done it, and all of them could have seriously tarnished the Olympiad. In other words, Seoul’s success was not just up to Seoul. But once Beijing secured the bid in 2001, Beijing’s success was Beijing’s to win or lose.34 It faced harsh criticism and there was opposition, of course—Tibetans, Falungong, Human Rights Watch, etc.—but no one was talking about switching venues or denying Beijing the right to host. The IOC conferred Beijing’s hegemony as host. For Seoul, that hegemony only came during and after September 1988. Seoul ultimately renewed the hegemony of the Olympic Movement, as well, enabling it to silence so-called polarizing political opposition, while still being able to use the Games and sport to politicize in its own time-honored ways. Korea-U.S. relations aside, by most accounts, the Seoul Olympiad surpassed all previous Olympics. Samaranch called it the “greatest ever.” This success, which was widely acclaimed in the international press at the conclusion of the Games, effectively removed earlier skepticism or doubt over the national will or what Korea was capable of at home and abroad. The energy generated during the Games made it evident that Korea was ready for whatever challenge it might face. Few could have imagined the extent of the Olympiad’s long-term impact on Korea. What happened before, during, and after the Seoul Games resulted in nothing short of a transformation in Korean politics, diplomatic relations, infrastructure, and landscape. Much of this had little to do with sports or the Olympic Games per se. The Olympiad’s most obvious legacy was its impact on domestic politics. It proved to be the linchpin for both Seoul’s military government and South Korea’s movement for democratization. By successfully hosting the Games without serious incident, the ROK made friends and built ties with its former foes in China and Eastern Europe, and, through some fancy diplomatic footwork and a spirit of openness, it managed to completely isolate and overwhelm Pyongyang. This signifi cantly offset its problems with corruption and concerns over the extent and integrity of democratic reforms led by the ruling party. The Olympiad strengthened national pride and helped generate a sense of collective ownership in Olympic-era infrastructure—as well as the Olympiad itself—while giving credit to the state, which helped offset—or at least defer—presidential legitimacy problems. The 1988 Olympiad effectively eased Cold War tensions, put the boycott-weary Olympic Movement back on solid footing, and erased 100 The East Asian Olympiads any doubts about the state of development in South Korea. For all of this, Seoul should be duly credited. The ROK gained international name recognition. Korea’s chaebol multinationals developed new business ties and markets all over the world, particularly in former Eastern Bloc and non-aligned nations, which had been impenetrable in the pre-Olympic years. Kang Shin-pyo has argued that the Seoul Olympics contributed to a new sense of Korean autonomy and “a new transformation in her history, one in which she ventures out into the world without the con- straints imposed upon her by the USA and the USSR.”35 Korean citizens developed a strong sense of national pride and confi dence. However, the DPRK, Korean unifi cation, the Korean Left, and Korea-U.S. amity all paid dearly. North Korea’s attempts to disrupt or manipulate the Games undermined almost all of its credibility and diplomatic clout among its biggest supporters. Most of its allies did not hesitate long to give diplomatic recognition to the ROK in exchange for its offers of loans and fi nancing. South Korea soon after entered into new trade and diplomatic relations with thirty Eastern Bloc and non-aligned nations, including China and the Soviet Union. Seoul may have been the last of the “Cold War Games,” but behind the scenes, the capital city was abuzz with trade and diplomatic deals with Eastern Bloc nations. In a freehanded display of East-West realpolitik, Roh launched “Nordpolitik,” the likes of which South Koreans had never seen before. Indeed, the warming of Cold War relations that the Seoul Olympiad had kindled foreshadowed and contributed to the historical opening that came when the Berlin Wall fell just over a year later and when the Soviet Union dissolved just two years after that. The Olympiad was a political windfall for Roh’s government. On September 30, two days before the conclusion of the Games, Korea was selected for the 1989 International Monetary Fund chairmanship. Less than two weeks later, Gorbachev’s advisor called for North and South Korean joint membership in United Nations.36 And exactly a month after Seoul’s opening ceremony, Roh delivered a speech to the United Nations petitioning to gain membership for South Korea.37 We might even say that through the XIVth Olympiad, south Korea became South Korea, in the sense that it established a clear image for itself, shedding much of its weighty political and historical baggage, including certain associations with North Korea, U.S. infl uence, and vestiges of the wartime past. Yet, even some on the Right were not satisfi ed with the outcome in 1988. In the face of continued attacks on the ruling party a year later, Park Seh-jik, the man who replaced Roh as the president of the Seoul Olympic Organizing Committee and who presided over the Olympiad itself, expressed disappointment in the legacy of the Seoul Olympiad:

After the festival everybody deteriorated right away. That is a sad story. . . . To achieve harmony we have to go back to the days of the Olympics and even the days before the Olympics [to see] how we Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles 101

became one. . . . Spiritual enhancement . . . is the objective, the goal of the Olympics.38

Park later complained that “Korea is the country which has the lowest evaluation of the Olympics and has forgotten it the fastest.”39 But this was probably sour grapes for Park, because the Olympiad did not erase the memory of all of the crimes and indiscretions of Chun and his cro- nies, nearly all of whom were Park’s classmates at the Military Academy and rose to power with him. Everyone was being implicated for bribery and corruption, and Park stood to be implicated as well. Nevertheless, in the immediate aftermath of the Games and over the years since, Korea’s Olympic “success” was to become a fi xture of national achievement for Koreans collectively to look back on, call attention to, or claim as part of the national patrimony. It is in this sense that Korea’s Olympic “success” has served to strengthen and consolidate Korean nationalism. This new, confi dent Korean nationalism was born in the moment of the Olympiad and has moved forward in the years since. And, in that moment and in that making, Koreans gave the state the authority to continue with the status quo of the development program. Without the Olympiad in Seoul, it is doubtful that the development of infrastructure could have continued on such a scale and with such hegemony. The Seoul Olympics, together with the gains of the Korean democratization movement, took some of the hardness out of the “hard state” while at the same time hardening up the nation. It strengthened those functions of state lying outside of the military and not supported by the military, and made them stronger than ever. Until the Olympics, there was no public consensus on the Korean development program. It had been imposed, and imposed by a military state for the previous fi fteen years. It was never really open to debate for those at home and those few who could travel abroad. Under Chun’s military regime, most went along with the development program for the sake of the Olympiad. What stands out as the structural legacy of the Seoul Olympiad is not particular Olympic structures or their features, but the epic, massifi ed, brutalist structure of architectural design that was imposed on Seoul. This “Olympic standard” then quickly swept through every other city and town in South Korea. The rise of South Korean structural monumentalism and the rise in anti-Americanism—however coincidental they were at the time—were products of the same Olympic regime. And although Chun and Roh were eventually tried and convicted, the moment of the Olympiad gave full force to the Korean state and provided legitimacy to the nation’s development program. In a political sleight-of-hand maneuver, just as Korean citizens were being handed a new empowered nationalism, they were enticed to support and invest in their state’s development program that privileged the grandiose. By virtue of the Olympiad, massive projects, like the largest steel mill in the world in Pohang, Park Chung Hee’s so-called 102 The East Asian Olympiads brainchild, continued on the same scale during the Chun and Roh regimes, and even thereafter. Korea’s development program was never seriously challenged, even after Chun and Roh were imprisoned and completely discredited. In fact, it was soon internationalized through chaebol contracts to build one of the Padronas Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur and the world’s largest canal project in Libya. In December 2007, after ten years of progressive government with Kim Dae Jung and Roh Moo-hyun at the helm, Lee Myung-bak was elected president in a referendum calling for a return to Olympic- era development policies and business dealings. Lee’s nickname, “bulldozer,” evokes the spirit of much of the development that has gone on in Korea since September 1981. Having headed Hyundai Construction, which is generally considered the most corrupt branch of the most corrupt chaebol, he went on to become the mayor of Seoul and the architect of the Cheongyecheon River Project. The centerpiece of his platform when he ran for president was to build a 2,000-kilometer long “Grand Canal” that would divide South Korea in two, along the Han and Nakdong River corridors, and tunnel through nearly every mountain range south of the 38th Parallel.40 His rivals have estimated it will cost $50 billion, six billion more than China spent on Beijing in 2008.41 Seoul and Incheon have each had plans to build the largest building in the world, a 2,000-foot structure in Incheon and a 3,200- foot monstrosity in Seoul. They would be monuments to Korean greatness and icons of Korean monumentalism,42 and the next chapter in the legacy of an Olympic regime.

NOTES William Tsutsui and Michael Baskett’s “Olympian Desires” conference theme inspired most of what appears in this chapter, as I had never published anything about the Olympics before. I wish to thank them both for their wonderful generosity and hospitality in inviting me to participate in this project, and for kindly obliging my every need and request over the course of this process.

1 The bulk of this account is based on my experience witnessing these events, fi rst when Seoul was designated as Olympic host in 1981, then in 1987–88 as a spectator at the Games while I was living and working among urban squatters in Seoul as a Fulbright fellow conducting ethnographic fi eldwork research, and thereafter studying the transformation of Seoul over much of the last three decades. Among scholars working specifi cally on urban renewal in Seoul, I am particularly indebted to Laura Nelson, Jung In Kim, and Lisa Davis (also represented in this volume). For specifi c comparisons and contrasts to this account, see Jung In Kim, “Constructing a ‘Miracle,’ Architecture, National Identity and Development of the Han River, A Critical Exploration of Architecture and Urbanism: Seoul, 1961–1988” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, 2008) and Laura C. Nelson, Measured Excess: Status, Gender, and Consumer Nationalism in South Korea (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000). Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles 103

2 Steven J. Jackson, David L. Andrews, and Cheryl Cole, “Race, Nation and Authenticity of Identity: Interrogating the ‘Everywhere’ Man (Michael Jordan) and the ‘Nowhere’ Man (Ben Johnson),” in Sporting Nationalisms: Identity, Ethnicity, Immigration and Assimilation, ed. Mike Cronin and David Mayall (London: Frank Cass Publishers, 1998). 3 Richard W. Pound, Inside the Olympics: A Behind-the-Scenes Look at the Politics, the Scandals and the Glory of the Games (Etobicoke, Ontario: John Wiley & Sons, 2004). 4 The extensive academic conferences and publications that were orchestrated by the Seoul Olympic Organizing Committee in anticipation of the success of the Seoul Olympiad in 1987 touted their level of confi dence, even as tear gas was being fi red against protesters in Seoul’s streets outside their windows. See the 900-page volume The Olympics and Cultural Exchange: The Papers of the First International Conference on the Olympics and East/West and South/North Cultural Exchange in the World System, ed. Kang Shin-pyo, John MacAloon, and Roberto DaMatta (Seoul: The Institute of Ethnological Studies, Hanyang University, 1987). 5 For an account of “sex, sports, and screen” and other paradoxes before, during, and after the Seoul Games which are not covered in this chapter, see Lisa Kim Davis, “Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics: ‘3S’ as Urban Body Politics,” Chapter 7 in this volume. For an alternative account of the Seoul Olympiad that downplays these problematics and paradoxes, see John J. MacAloon and Kang Shin-Pyo, “Uri Nara: Korean Nationalism, the Seoul Olympics, and Contemporary Anthropology,” in Toward One World Beyond All Barriers, Proceedings of the Seoul Olmpiad Anniversary Conference, Vol. 1 (Seoul: Poong Nam Publishing, 1990), pp. 117–159. 6 For critical accounts of the Beijing Olympiad, see Susan Brownell, “The Beijing Olympics as a Turning Point? China’s First Olympics in East Asian Perspective,” The Asia-Pacifi c Journal, 23-4-09 (June 8, 2009), http:// japanfocus.org/-Susan-Brownell/3166 (accessed November 2, 2010); Erping Zhang, “The Olympic Drama in Beijing,” http://organharvestinvestigation. net/events/ErPing_071808.htm (accessed November 2, 2010). 7 The ROK and the People’s Republic of China were respectively the sixteenth and eighteenth nations to host the Summer Olympic Games. An additional four (all European states) hosted the Winter Olympics, Israel hosted the Paralympics, and Ireland the International Special Olympics, but none of these can compare to the prestige and power vested in hosting the Summer Games. 8 David R. Black and Shona Bezanson, “The Olympic Games, Human Rights and Democratisation: Lessons from Seoul and Implications for Beijing,” Third World Quarterly 25:7 (2004), pp. 1245–1261; Chen Kuide, “Two Historical Turning Points: The Seoul and Beijing Olympics,” China Rights Forum 3 (2007) pp. 36–40; Victor D. Cha, Beyond the Final Score: The Politics of Sport in Asia (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009), pp. 54–61, 111–146; Paul Close, David Askew, and Xu Xin, The Beijing Olympiad: The Political Economy of a Sporting Mega-Event (New York: Routledge, 2007), pp. 121–144. 9 Commentary on the Seoul Olympics presented in a roundtable discussion on the Beijing Olympics at the Association for Asian Studies Annual Meeting in Chicago, Illinois, March 27, 2009. 104 The East Asian Olympiads

10 Hyunsun Yoon, “The Legacy of the 1988 Seoul Olympic Games,” in Olympic Cities: 2012 and the Remaking of London, ed. Gavin Poynter and Iain MacRury (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2009), p. 89 11 James C. Scott, Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998). 12 Until 1988, the 1964 Tokyo Olympiad was the last Summer Games unmarred by boycotts or killings. 13 Kevin B. Witherspoon, Before the Eyes of the World: Mexico and the 1968 Olympic Games (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2008). 14 Before 1988, the 1964 Tokyo Olympiad was the last indisputably and unconditionally successful Summer Games. Accounts of subsequent Olympiads include Paul Charles Howell, The Montreal Olympics: An Insider’s View of Organizing a Self-Financing Games (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2009) and Holger Preuss, The Economics of Staging the Olympics: A Comparison of the Games 1972–2008 (Northampton, Mass.: Edward Elgar, 2004). 15 This foreshadowed the controversy in 1984 among socialist states concerned with the same issue and in 1987 and 1988 among Koreans, when NBC’s broadcasts seemed to be drawing attention to various elements of underdevelopment in South Korea. 16 “Trops” is “sport” spelled backwards. 17 There is also evidence to suggest that the airliner might have been conducting reconnaissance over Soviet territory. 18 Over two hundred people died in Kwangju in 1980 during a ten-day standoff between civilians and military special forces. Its victims were mostly students and young adults, but also included many women and children. May 18 is the ofﬁ cial day of commemoration, although the uprising and subsequent massacre went on for over a week. Deadly special forces, rather than police, were deployed on Chun’s orders to quell the uprising. Chun and Roh were ultimately convicted of treason, mutiny and corruption in August 1996, brought down by the blood on their hands from Kwangju. 19 Lisa Kim Davis, in Chapter 7 in this volume, and others have challenged this view, asserting that it was Chun’s brainchild and that attributing it to Park was a way to give it enhanced legitimacy. 20 Kim, “Constructing a ‘Miracle,’” p. 223. 21 Kim, “Constructing a ‘Miracle,’” pp. 223–224. 22 James F. Larson, personal communication, 2008. See also James F. Larson, The Telecommunications Revolution in Korea (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995). 23 In his book, Korea, a Nation Transformed, Roh mentions the Seoul Olympics on 75 of its 300 pages. Roh Tae Woo, Korea, a Nation Transformed, Selected Speeches of Roh Tae Woo (Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1990). 24 Shin-pyo Kang, “The Seoul Olympic Games and Dae-dae Cultural Grammar,” in Sport . . . the Third Millennium: Proceedings of the International Symposium, Quebec City, Canada, May 21–25, 1990, ed. Fernand Landry, Marc Landry, Magdeleine Yerles (Montreal: Les Presses de l’University Laval, 1991), p. 49. Kang asserts that the Olympics “transform[ed] Korean people’s view of themselves” (p. 50) and “change[d] Korea’s self image from ‘Third World’ Nationalist Desires, State Spectacles 105

to a First World country through the process of organizing something of worldwide signifi cance” (p. 49). 25 Davis, “Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics.” 26 Kang, “The Seoul Olympic Games and Dae-dae Cultural Grammar,” pp. 49–50. 27 Korea Herald, October 1, 1988. 28 Richard W. Pound, Five Rings Over Korea: The Secret Negotiations behind the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1994), p. 362. 29 For a critical comparison of the use of sport as a foreign policy tool in divided societies, see Udo Merkel, “Sport, Politics and Reunifi cation—A Comparative Analysis of Korea and Germany,” The International Journal of the History of Sport 26:3 (March 2009), pp. 406–428. 30 Fred Hiatt, “Visitors Can’t Say Enough on Hospitality,” Korea Herald, September 25, 1988. 31 Margaret W. Dilling, Stories Inside Stories: Music in the Making of the Korean Olympic Ceremonies (Berkeley: University of California Institute of East Asian Studies, 2007), p. 448. 32 Shin-pyo Kang’s allegation two years after the Olympiad that “Western sport prefers clear winners and losers, yet in Korean tradition winners are also losers and losers winners” fl ies in the face of this incident. Kang, “The Seoul Olympic Games and Dae-dae Cultural Grammar,” p. 51. 33 James F. Larson, personal communication, 2008. 34 As a measure of this hegemony, there were more books written about the Beijing Olympiad before the fact than all of those on the Seoul Olympiad since 1988. 35 Kang, “The Seoul Olympic Games and Dae-dae Cultural Grammar,” p.52. 36 Korea Herald, October 13, 1989. 37 Korea Herald, October 19, 1989. 38 Dilling, Stories Inside Stories: Music in the Making of the Korean Olympic Ceremonies, Interview with Park Seh-jik (September 26, 1989), p. 363. 39 Park Seh-jik, “The Story of the Seoul Olympics: On the Afterlife of the Offi cial Song, No. 25,” Choson Ilbo, January 12, 1990. 40 Because of opposition to his neo-liberalist policies and his perceived willingness to cater to U.S. interests, President Lee was forced to scale back his plans for this canal. 41 Thomas K. Grose, “London Admits It Can’t Top Lavish Beijing Olympics When It Hosts 2012 Games,” US News and World Report, August 22, 2008. 42 New York Times , May 27, 2007. 7 Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics: “3S” as Urban Body Politics

Lisa Kim Davis

NATIONAL LEGITIMACY, SPORT, AND URBAN BODIES n the autumn of 1988, Seoul, the capital of South Korea, also known Ias the Republic of Korea, played host to two large international sporting events, the Olympic Games followed by the Paralympic Games. Considering that South Korea had a per capita gross national income of less than U.S.$3,000 at the time and had experienced major political ruptures and state violence over the previous nine years, it has been seen as a real triumph of hard work and collective will, if not a miracle (or a victory for heavy-handed governance, or both), that the events themselves both went off smoothly. The darker side of the preparations for the 1988 Olympics included the banning of beggars and street vendors from sidewalks near sports competition venues and mass evictions in the name of city beautifi cation, with its aggressive program of urban renewal. The evictions and demolitions prior to 1988 earned public condemnation at the United Nations and even fueled the start of a nascent housing rights movement throughout the Asia region. Neither the achievements nor the misdeeds of the 1988 Games and their related preparations seem as exceptional, however, when viewed in their wider historical context. In fact, the 1980s were known from early on as the era of the “3S” policy—“sex, sports, and screen”—in dis- sident and student underground circles. It was only later that the varied and disparate events and activities comprising the three S’s could be seen in retrospect as amounting to something tantamount to a coherent cultural policy. Here it is argued that as the disparate events of 1980s cultural policy played out, the Games of 1988 coalesced as a pivotal moment Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics 107 in promoting the production of a new kind of body in the national imaginary, which would gradually come to replace both the peasant farmer and the factory worker grunt as the ideal national subject. This new kind of abstract body was in sharp contrast to the unruly demonstrating masses that thronged the streets regularly and fi lled the evening news throughout the mid to late 1980s as the Chun dictatorship came to an early demise of sorts in 1987. The new, idealized body could not be in military uniform after the June 1987 “velvet revolution” or “people’s revolution,” as it was sometimes called. The new body was disciplined and obedient, athletically fi t yet capable of sensual excess, and an eager consumer of leisure and orderly spectacle. Those who spoke of “3S” policy with dread and sarcasm more than a quarter century earlier might never have predicted the contribution of such an ad hoc cultural policy toward the shaping of an ideal subject for twenty- fi rst-century global, urbanized society.

FRAMEWORK The decades before and after the 1988 Seoul Olympic Games are dominated by the story of the city. Here it is argued that the cultural policy and concomitant remaking of the built environment of the 1980s turns out to have been a turning point in shaping a city once composed of rural migrants into one of the most heavily populated urban areas in the world, with a permanent urban populace who embraced an urban style of living and an urban consciousness. While the new dictatorship fought and killed citizens in the provincial city of Kwangju while consolidating its hold, it was in Seoul that the struggle for legitimacy had to be won. The cultural policy, or set of policies, of the 1980s was an important component of keeping a superfi cial hold on that legitimacy, and by the time of the Olympics the transfer to a more democratic type of national government was well underway. The Frankfurt School conception of culture industry comes immediately to mind when the cultural policies of the Chun dictatorship are examined. If entertainment is folded into culture as described by Horkheimer and Adorno, then spectator sports can be included as part of the culture industry.1 The Olympic Games, professional sports, a new pornographic fi lm industry, and new types of pop music using a Western vernacular all prefi gure orderly urban subjects with fi t, sensuous, but disciplined bodies that both watch and play sports. In linking bodies, nation-building, and sport, there is yet much to decipher in the study of South Korea’s urban culture and society. The 1988 Olympic Games has become something of a sacred cow, usually discussed mainly in terms of the late-twentieth century opening to the international community, this time in the context of neo-liberal globalization economics. Post-structuralist and feminist analyses fl ourish, yet radical deconstruction of male and female has barely begun; Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble (1990) just became available in Korean translation in December of 2008. Nationhood as a category is privileged over 108 The East Asian Olympiads the individual body, and sport is a popular topic especially insofar as it buttresses nationalism. Internationally, the burgeoning fi eld of sports studies looks to Foucault for a way to understand the glorifi cation of the athletic body as memorialized every four years in the Olympic Games, and this applies here as well. Foucault opens his treatise on “docile bodies” with a detailed description of the fi gure of the soldier, familiar in 1980s South Korea.2 He goes on to expand his analysis to schools, hospitals, and then prisons. Through training, disciplined bodies are brought into the social body, becoming part of a whole. “This is a functional reduction of the body. But it is also an insertion of this body-segment into a whole ensemble over which it is articulated.”3 He details how the application of discipline to the body increases the aptitude of the body for force, effi ciency, and utility, while at the same time it turns resulting power into subjugation. “If economic exploitation separates the force and the product of labour . . . disciplinary coercion establishes in the body the constricting link between an increased aptitude and an increased domination.”4 For South Korea, the period from 1980 (when the bid for the 1988 Olympic Games was entered) through 2002 (when the entire nation erupted in a mass outpouring of ebullience over the World Cup, overcoming even an awkward co-hosting arrangement with former colonial power Japan) marks a sea change. Rule by the military was replaced by rule of entertainment and leisure, with organized sport elevated to a level commensurate with the warrior prowess of yesteryear. Often overlooked but equally noteworthy as an achievement of international order was the Paralympic Games of 1988. The progress of the Paralympic movement toward the sports mainstream, as refl ected for the fi rst time in 1988, signifi es attainment of a certain sophistica- tion of classifi cation and dissection of bodily performance and ability central to Foucault’s disciplining system.5 Nonetheless, taking off from the assertion that the body is historically and socially constructed as demonstrated throughout Foucault’s works, then, the fi eld of disability studies has emerged to challenge the reduction of impairment, as a bio-physical observation, to a “disability,” reversing the focus away from the individual body as categorized by medical science back to the social. Challenging medical sociology and the medicalization of impairment, disability studies aim to dissect the social construction of “dis- ablement” which it argues is based in discrimination and oppression.6 It is in this spirit that David Howe invokes Foucault’s discussion of classifi cation as governmentality in his ethnography of the Paralympic competition in the fall of 1988 in Seoul.7 “The wait is over. My classifi cation begins. To date I have undergone the process of classifi cation three times. It is an alienating experience. . . . I was ‘successful’ in classifi cation, as expected. I will be competing in the CP 7 class.”8 Howe goes on to question the effect the growth of the Paralympics industry is having on the quest of persons with impairment to be treated Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics 109 as normal. It is a testament to the success of the Paralympics movement that today elite athletes who have some classifi able impairment can compete and win at the Olympics, calling into question the logic of a separate hierarchy. Finally, parallel to disability studies’ moves to materialize their bodily experiences back onto the social, studies of the uneven development of capitalism question the underlying logic of disciplined bodies in the city. David Harvey’s work on the body places the Foucauldian body back into a wider scalar scheme of the capitalist city, whereby the body becomes the physical and symbolic incarnation of the individual person, as one of fi ve loci of power and consciousness, categories making up the “‘hierarchy of spatialities’ within the city form.”9 The Olympics and Paralympics are primarily urban phenomena, at least so far, and are increasingly milked for commercial value by all involved. Parallel to Foucault’s conception of the body as a site of multiple, intersecting forces, Harvey stresses the body as a relational category, citing Strathern.10 While his “collective body” is conceived primarily as a labor force it is not a big step to travel, via Horkheimer and Adorno, to the collective urban body at leisure; they considered entertainment as expressed via the culture industry as the fl ip side of work, as that which held the laborer to his or her position rather than as liberating.11 The idealized collective body or body politic proposed by 1980s cultural policy in South Korea was orderly and nationally loyal, a disciplined national body, yet whether athlete, spectator, or evictee, hardly without agency of sorts.

THE SEOUL 1988 OLYMPIC GAMES There was much that was uncertain about the ultimate outcome of the 1988 Olympics at the time when the process of bidding and planning began. The preceding nine years were marked by political instability, a new military coup d’état, the massacre of civilians by the army, economic recession, hostilities with North Korea, and the ﬁ rst direct presidential elections in twenty-seven years. When the Games proceeded smoothly, all South Koreans were relieved. Koreans are thought to be descendent from a group that arrived on the Korean peninsula around 4000 B.C. Korea was colonized by Japan from 1905 on, formally from 1910 to 1945; after that it was divided into two halves by agreement between the United States and the Soviet Union and remains partitioned, tragically, today. At the time of the decision to bid for the Olympic Games, South Korea’s per capital annual gross national income stood at U.S.$1,481. It was a newly-industrialized, poverty-stricken country lacking, as of yet, a mass consumer culture. The president of South Korea, General Park Chung Hee, was assassinated on October 26, 1979, after eighteen years of military rule, during which time he is credited with leading the South Korean economic miracle via export-oriented industrialization. General Chun Doo Hwan took power illegally on December 12, 1979, in the ﬁ rst stage of a coup. 110 The East Asian Olympiads

During what is known as the May 18 Uprising in the city of Kwangju from May 17 to May 27, 1980, General Chun extended martial law to quell public opposition to his coup, culminating in the Kwangju Massacre. Hundreds or thousands of citizens including many students were slaughtered by the military, which was and is still technically under the command of the U.S. military.12 The decision to bid for the 1988 Olympics was taken up again later in the summer of 1980 according to Korean sources. The previous government of General Park had announced its intent to bid in the last weeks of its rule, but the assassination and subsequent turmoil halted the initial effort. In the new government of General Chun, high offi cials who opposed the bid on economic grounds were sacked and replaced.13 The 1988 Olympic Games were awarded to South Korea at the end of September 1981, and the 1986 Asian Games at the end of November. 14 Earlier in 1981, the Chun regime had begun to experiment with cultural politics, promoting the infamous Kukp’ung ’81 outdoor arts festival in Seoul at the fi rst anniversary of the Kwangju Massacre and banning memorial events.15 Just over a year before the Olympics were held, the president was changed when the public’s discontent over Kwangju and the Chun dictatorship brought about the “velvet revolution.” Chun was forced to step down in the face of mounting street protests nationwide, his number two General Roh Tae Woo—junior high school friend, partner in crime for both Chun’s coup and the Kwangju Massacre, and president of the Seoul Olympic Organizing Committee—took over, and Roh managed to win the hastily-organized elections held that December when the opposition split. Perhaps due in part to Roh’s previous role as Olympic Committee president, preparations for the Olympics hardly seemed affected by the national political turmoil, and in fact, the event planners bent over backward to stage a peaceful, inclusive, participa- tory Olympics rich in scholarly, arts, and youth events aimed at the middle class. Despite its roots in the murderous early days of the Chun dictatorship, the Seoul Olympics earned the praise of the international community. Its organizers had made every effort to give the impression of the modern, technologically advanced, prosperous, and well-organized host nation that South Korea would increasingly become. The negative aspects of the Olympics’ legacy were the internationally-documented expulsion of over three-quarters of a million urban poor people from their homes, which were razed and replaced with upper middle-class apartment towers. One particularly unfortunate community from one of the Sanggyedong redevelopment zones endured one of many violent sets of evictions that occurred throughout the city during the 1980s. They spent the winter sleeping in tents outside the main downtown Roman Catholic cathedral, and even had their new homes razed on the outskirts of Seoul when local offi cials learned the torch would pass by. Street vendors were “voluntarily” expelled from avenues near streets likely to be used by international tourists attending events, and a Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics 111

mysterious absence of beggars including the usual physically impaired panhandlers was reported.16 Allegations circulated in international reports that beggars and vagrants had been rounded up and hauled off to somewhere outside of Seoul, but if so, it was hard to substantiate. There was a consensus that the bodies, homes, and livelihood of urban poor people, street merchants, panhandlers, and other characters often occupying public space were to be made as invisible as possible to foreign eyes, and various different campaigns worked to this end. The city and the nation had come together and pulled out all the stops of Korean hospitality, the charm of which is unmatched worldwide, putting on a great show, but the message was clear: working-class grit was out. The tenor of this inhumane side to hosting the internationals, as reﬂ ected in the vast, energetic city “beautiﬁ cation” program, resonated with leadership as the direction for the future.

THE SEOUL PARALYMPIC GAMES Volunteers poured out of the woodwork to host the Olympic Games and its audience, and the lesser known Paralympic Games, held from October 15 to 24, 1988, benefi ted from an equally exuberant outpouring of public good will and generosity. South Korea had held the annual Korean National Games for the Disabled since 1981, but the Paralym- pics were a new challenge, with sixty-one countries present, over 3,000 athletes, and sixteen sports.17 A public education campaign held in advance challenged South Koreans to be open-minded toward impaired persons not usually seen in public; school children and church-goers were brought in to view events and cheer for various national contin- gents. The South Korean organizing committee unfurled a new logo and fl ag for the international organization that would be used for some time. This was the fi rst time that the Paralympics were held in the same venue and season as the Olympics since 1964, and the two events have been increasingly coordinated since.18 Despite a disappointing turnout by the international media,19 British scholar and four-time Paralympian David Howe recalls, “This was a coming of age for the Paralympics Movement . . . a watershed simply because the organizers in Korea felt the Paralympians needed to be treated with the same respect as Olympians. . . . The Korean people came out in large numbers. . . .”20 Likewise, as a less critical interpreter of the paralympic movement wrote, “The Paralympic Games . . . in 1988 were to be the turning point. . . . The Seoul Games took sport for people with disabilities into another dimension . . . a turning point in the meteoric development of elite sports for athletes with a disability.” 21 The legacy of the 1988 Seoul Paralympics is recognized internationally and may even have been broader domestically than one would expect. In a group interview conducted by the author in 2001 of survivors of a Seoul urban poor people’s tenant organization that had resisted years of eviction attempts in order to remain in their neighborhood in central 112 The East Asian Olympiads

Seoul, an older teenager made sure it was noted for the record that his project was competing for a spot on the national Paralympic team. Table tennis contender Norman Haase of Allentown, Pennsylvania, a two-time Paralympian, remembers on his blog that “The South Korean people were exceptionally warm and hospitable. . . . I remember regularly encountering Korean volunteers (there were thousands . . .) who showed a slight hesitation. . . . In many cases they had never encoun- tered a disabled person in public—but that trepidation quickly dissi- pated. . . . I had my ﬁ rst, and no doubt last experience with signing autographs.”22 If the Olympics had a bright side and a dark side, mostly hidden, the Paralympics seems to have been the unsung hero of 1988.

CULTURAL POLICY AND THE GAMES In fact, the 1988 Olympics were part of a larger package of cultural policy moves spewed out by the Chun dictatorship in the early years of its unpopular reign, known at the time as “3S.” The coherent logic of the full program is only apparent in hindsight, and it wasn’t all planned and coordinated from one point within the central government; still, there was clearly a general idea shared among key fi gures in the Chun regime that the unruly urban public needed to be given outlets for enjoyment so that they would stop interfering with and disrupting the new government. One could quibble about what to include and what not to include under “3S”: this is where accounts differ, because certain propos- als were already planned by the Park dictatorship. To say for sure what is to be categorized as “3S” would entail a deep appreciation of the minutia of continuity and disruption between the Park and the Chun regime. Suffi ce it to say that there were a host of new leisure spaces and activities created for the urban public’s enjoyment in the years immediately following the Kwangju Massacre, if the defi nition of culture is adopted from Horkheimer and Adorno to include entertainment for the masses. What could be included, then, under the “3S” policy heading? Three “S” stood for “sports, sex, and screen,” transliterations into the Korean alphabet of English words. In general, with South Korean culture, any time there is a Western word transliterated into Korean, it can refl ect a deep-seated ambivalence and leave open the possibility of distancing some more mythically pure notion of Korean society from whatever the new practice is, especially if what is being signifi ed becomes controversial. The label emerged from the world of student movement activists, where there was an active cultural wing of the pro-democracy movement on campuses. In recent years, scholars have picked up on the “3S” term in refl ecting upon a painful period of history.23

SPORTS A large part of the cultural policy involved sports competitions, for both spectators and for building systems for training and participation. This was referred to from early on as “sports nationalism.”24 One could Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics 113 include the decision in summer 1980 by General Chun to go after the 1988 Olympic Games bid, and the 1986 Asian Games bid, as part of this process. While the Seoul Olympic Organizing Committee leaders cultivated the vague impression in Lausanne International Olympic Committee accounts that such decisions simply carried over from the 1970s regime, the picture that can fi tted together from various puzzle pieces, including the career trajectory of the forefather of the idea of hosting the Olympics, Pak Chong Gyu, indicates otherwise.25 The rupture between the October assassination and the December coup simply appears to be too large, and the timing of the Chun government’s decision to bid too closely tied to the Kwangju Massascre. Pak Chong Gyu was dismissed as head of the presidential guard after the 1974 assassination attempt on General Park failed, killing his wife instead. In 1978, Pak oversaw the hosting of the International Shooting Championships by Seoul, in his capacity as head of the National Marks- men’s League. He wrote the initial guidelines for bidding in February 1979, and as head of the South Korean Amateur Athletic Association, located in the Ministry of Education, and thus, chair of the Korean Olympic Committee, he was integral to the initial decision to bid for the Olympics that was announced in October 1979. According to the historian Son Chông Mok, Pak laid low after the Park assassination and the Chun coup and the idea was dropped.26 Signifi cantly, a Chun loyal- ist was appointed head of the Amateur Athletic Association on July 14, 1980, around when the idea to bid appears to have been re-born. Pak died before the Seoul Olympics happened, tragically never seeing the dream he lived for come to pass and not being credited with its genesis either. The details of the 1979 to 1980 period in South Korea could use more explication by disinterested sports historians. In addition to the 1988 Olympic Games and 1986 Asian Games bids, which probably would never have happened then had it not been for the regime’s need to improve its popularity, there was the creation of professional baseball by General Chun. The Korean Baseball Organiza- tion was formed on December 11, 1981, and Chun appointed a former Army Chief of Staff and recent Minister of Defense to head it. The fi rst game took place on March 27, 1982. A professional soccer league was then created in 1983. Korean folk wrestling (ssirûm) was also given a boost; in April of 1982, the Chun government arranged the “Stron- gest Man in the World” contest and boosted prize awards from the customary several thousands to tens of thousands of dollars. Besides professional sports, television rights for baseball games were also an important part of these early designs.27

SEX AND SCREEN Color televisions went on sale in the summer of 1980, and broadcast in color began at the end of that year. While this was probably already in the works, it did have the effect of destroying the business of second- and third-run movie theaters. The answer for these economically 114 The East Asian Olympiads threatened venues was sex fi lms. There was the sudden fl ourishing of an erotic fi lm industry as government censorship was relaxed. The fi rst step for this was the ending (starting on January 6, 1982) of the long- lasting night curfew which had been a regular part of Korean law since 1954, after the Korean War armistice. Then, the Chun dictatorship allowed late-night movie theaters, which showed these new sex fi lms, to remain open. The “Madame Emma” series, begun in 1982, and other similar fi lms saved older cinema houses from bankruptcy and became huge box offi ce hits.28 No doubt they provided jobs for fl edgling fi lm- makers and may have had an important role in sustaining the South Korean fi lm industry, which later achieved worldwide recognition for artistic excellence; documenting this connection is another topic for further investigation. To call the fi lms of the “Madame Emma” series erotica would be too kind of a categorization: it was soft porn. This author personally had the unpleasant experience of naively attending one of these, taken by a whole group of Seoul National University graduate students while on a Fulbright fellowship after the Olympics. It was only after research- ing the cultural policies of the 1980s twenty years later that it became evident that what was experienced at the time as a rude, lewd, practical joke of mostly arrogant male students on a foreign exchange visitor could perhaps have been a sincere attempt to share the culture of the times; if that were so, the author might regret escaping near the end of the fi lm, fl eeing the theater, and never speaking to most of the group again. A student activist confi rmed recently that attending such fi lms was what he and his cohorts—even women and feminist activists—did in between protests back then. It was necessary to wait to be paged, sometimes in an unfamiliar location, as the exact times and locations of anti-government demonstrations were announced on short notice. An inexpensive place to wait and nap was the movie theater.

OTHER RELATED PROGRAMMING There was other programming under the category of entertainment, culture, and leisure that was not exactly screen but more stage or other. This included hosting the 29th Miss Universe Competition in July 1980, strictly speaking not part of “3S” since it was planned in advance, but fi tting right in.29 The Miss Universe Competition became associated historically with both the Kwangju Uprising and Massacre and the “3S” policy because of the Sabuk Miners’ Uprising of April 1980. The miners’ uprising was an important strike leading up to the Kwangju Uprising. Then, several miners who escaped arrest were involved with the attempted bombing of a broadcasting station event in June 1980 related to the upcoming Miss Universe Compe- tition. They were caught and brutally tortured. In this manner the Miss Universe Competition became an iconic event in the national government’s campaign to suppress people’s democracy movement activities, including labor unions. Also, there was the announcement Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics 115 in 1982 of plans to build the National Contemporary Art Museum outside of Seoul the following year, and the announcement in 1983 of the intent to build the Seoul Arts Center. These would be elite venues where most visitors would go by car. Inarguably part of the “3S” cultural policy as well was the infamous Kukp’ung ’81, a fi ve-day festival of music and theater held in Seoul in a park which also functioned as a military airstrip. Banning all memorial activities related to the Kwangju Massacre, the Chun dictatorship instead promoted this large arts festival, Kukp’ung ’81, from May 28 to June 1, 1981. The offi cial propaganda indicates that it was an arts festival with the offi cial slogan “everlasting folk history, illuminating culture,” but eyewitness accounts describe it as a drunken bash with the most popular element being the battle of the rock bands. 5,000 peoples were said to have worked on organizing it, with fi ve million in attendance, although there is no credibility to these fi gures.30 Parallel to evolution of the South Korean fi lm industry, it would be interesting to trace back the indigenous arts movement which became widely popular in the 1990s to see whether it had roots stretching to the early 1980s. These are some of the main areas of cultural policy enacted by the Chun dictatorship after its rocky start. Although they were initially practical measures designed to soothe the public after the May massacre made Chun extremely unpopular, the policy involved creating long-lived spaces for entertainment and leisure for both the bourgeoi- sie and the mass public that helped make Seoul into an attractive city for international business in the twenty-fi rst century.

CONCLUSION It is only in recent years that the recognition of the set of activities referred to as the “3S” policy from the early 1980s on by pro-democracy activists and especially students has become part of mainstream discourse and recognized as cultural policy. It reveals how an unpopular, authoritarian national government struggling for legitimacy centrally implemented leisure and arts measures to remake an urban public. The “3S” policy moves aimed to broaden a domestic leisure scene, perceived as too narrowly catering to social elites, into a popular entertainment and leisure industry featuring sports, sex, and screen. Creation of such a “culture industry,” to use the term of Horkheimer and Adorno, would be of immense use in taking the South Korean urban public peacefully into the next century.31 The short-term motivation for these measures from 1980 on was purely political, although there was money to be made in the future. The agent of change was an angry, politicized public clamoring for an end to military dictatorship and the police state, characterized by the regular practice of torture by the police of detainees, media censorship, lack of freedom to assemble, and harsh anti-labor union control. The key event precipitating the set of programs was the Kwangju Uprising and Massacre of May 1980. 116 The East Asian Olympiads

Cultural policy of the 1980s had both immediate effects on the city and its built environment, through moves such as the lifting of a longstanding curfew and salvation of older movie theaters, and more distal effects on the built environment such as reinvigoration of residential housing redevelopment. Large redevelopment projects were created and rushed through to be done in time for the hosting of international sports events such as the 1986 Asian Games and the 1988 Olympics, even if one had little to do with the other. International organizations reported at the time that 800,000 working-class people were removed and their homes razed during the demolition and construction rush.32 The cultural policy thus had a profound infl uence on urbanism as a way of life for the South Korean public, by promoting homegrown leisure industries and by making indigenous elements of entertainment and leisure that had been previously attributed to foreign infl uence and the presence of foreigners, such as Western sports and soft porn. In the longer term and on a more positive note, it also attempted to res- urrect and promote traditional culture such as music, dance, and folk wrestling which might have benefi ted from a higher profi le. Although the culture industry elements were designed to promote orderly spec- tatorship and disciplined bodies, the urban public continued to take an active role, as refl ected in the grassroots cultural movements of the large and variegated pro-democracy public. Events such as Kukp’ung ’81 that aimed to manipulate and appropriate the arts for political ends met with disgust and fueled small, local collectives for traditional and modern arts and culture that organized and met beyond the control of the military government. By grouping and labeling the cultural policies as “3S” policy, dis- sidents were attempting to linguistically distance indigenous culture from what was seen—correctly so or not—as attributable to foreign infl uences. But despite this linguistic distancing, the policy measures did allow for the emergence of what became an economically-thriving mass entertainment and leisure industry aimed at urban dwellers, who were 80 percent of the South Korean population by the year 2000. This cultural policy of the 1980s could even be described as the structural precursor of hallryu, the so-called “Korean wave” of soap operas, fi lm, hip-hop, and popular music that is so popular throughout urban Asia today. One could venture to say that the “3S” policy actually contributed to the reshaping of a city into one with the physical and social infrastructure needed to cultivate a national public that would support Seoul’s emergence as a major player in the global economy. Twenty years gone by feels more like fi fty in the time-space compres- sion of Asian hypermodernity. Yet, in recent years, the “3S” policy has reappeared out of obscurity in South Korean popular discourse. The trigger for the new discussions was the Beijing Olympics; not only the 2008 Games themselves and their context, but also the way that South Korean athletes were feted by the current president Lee Myông Bak. “Is this the rebirth of 3S policy?” headlined one blogger on the same day that President Lee announced a presidential banquet and street Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics 117 parade to be held not only for medalists but for all participating South Korean athletes upon their return from Beijing.33 Furthermore, the South Korean site of that bane of university teachers, reportworld.com, offers 106 papers up for sale on the topic of “3S” in various formats, including the hallmark 2005 account by Son, many of which actually are about the 1980s cultural policy.34 Most exciting is that some of the items listed for sale refer to “3S” as “Ssûri esû” (that being the Korean pronunciation for “3S”), showing a slight but signifi cant move away from the linguistic distancing of incorporating roman letters into the Korean vernacular. Although the number and the components—sex, sports, and screen—are still transliterated as opposed to being expressed in “pure” Hangul or Chinese character-derived Korean, the move into the Korean alphabet Hangul refl ects the internalization of a linguistic signifi er into a nation’s collective past in a remarkable way. There are still many subtle and less subtle relationships to uncover in the hidden past of 1980s South Korea, such as how the cultural democracy movement wing of the people’s democracy movement created a collective national consciousness that was at once nationalistic and newly urban, or what the longer-term effects of the Paralympics were, or what really happened to the street people before the 1986 and 1988 Games. Considering the Olympic Games, the Paralympic Games, and the overarching cultural policy of the 1980s in one breath is meant to provoke thought on the culture industry and its imaginary public, with its active and passive bodies, past, present, and future.

NOTES 1 Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment, trans. John Cumming (1944, New York: Continuum, 1987), p. 143. 2 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish, trans. Alan Sheridan (1975/1977 English trans. New York: Vintage, 1995), p. 135. 3 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 165. 4 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 138. 5 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 148 6 Kevin Paterson and Bill Hughes, “Disabled Bodies” in The Body, Culture and Society, ed. Philip Hancock, et al. (Buckingham, UK: Open University Press, 2000). 7 P. David Howe, The Cultural Politics of the Paralympic Movement (Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2008), pp. 65–70. 8 Howe, Cultural Politics, pp. 71, 72. 9 David Harvey, The Urban Experience (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989), pp. 238, 241. 10 David Harvey, Spaces of Hope (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), p. 99. 11 Harvey, Spaces of Hope, p. 104. 12 See, for example, Donald Clark, ed. The Kwangju Uprising (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1987); Karen Eggleston, “Kwangju 1980 and Beijing 1989,” Asian Perspective 15.2 (1991), pp. 33–74; Amalie Weber, ed. Kwangju in the Eyes 118 The East Asian Olympiads

of the World: The Personal Recollections of the Foreign Correspondents Covering the Kwangju Uprising. (Seoul: Pulbit, 1997); Linda S. Lewis, Laying Claim to the Memory of May (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2002); and Han In-sup, “Kwangju and Beyond: Coping with Past State Atrocities in South Korea,” Human Rights Quarterly 27:3 (August 2005), pp. 998–1045, among the many excellent accounts. 13 See, for example, Song Hae Ryong, “Che 5 Konghwagukha-esô-ûi Sûpoch’û Chôngch’aek” (The Fifth Republic’s Sports Policy), Wônkwang Munhwa 25 (November 1988), pp. 167–172; Son Chông Mok, Sôul Tosi Kyehoek Iyagi (Seoul City Planning Stories), Vol. 1–5. (Seoul: Hanul Books., 2003); Munwha Broadcasting Corporation (MBC), “Sûp’och’û Chibaehara! – 5 Kong 3S Chôngch’aek” (Rule by Sports! – The Fifth Republic’s 3S Policy), Ije nûn Malhalsu’itda (Nowadays We Can Talk About It) program (time 50:37), aired May 22, 2005, (A short excerpt may be accessed without registration at http://kr.youtube.com/watch?v=yxBn67M0Dx4). 14 Son, Sôul Tosi Kyehoek Iyagi; Koh Eunha, “South Korea and the Asian Games: The First Step to the World,” Sport in Society 8:3 (September 2005), pp. 468– 478. 15 Weber, Kwangju in the Eyes of the World. 16 See, for example, Sôul Ch’ôlgomin Hyôp’ûi hoe (Seoul Evictees Union), 1 Chôn nyôn Bogosô (First Anniversary Report), July 17, 1988; Susan Chira, “The Two Faces of South Korea’s Capital City,” Special to The New York Times, September 9, 1988, p. A6; Peter Maass, “City, Nation on the Upbeat Aim to Avoid Downside,” Special to The Washington Post, September 16, 1988, Sports section, p. E1; and Asia Coalition for Housing Rights (ACHR) and Third World Network, Battle for Housing Rights in Korea (Bangkok, 1988). 17 Karen P. DePauw and Susan Gavron, Disability Sport, Second Ed. (Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics, 2005), p. 129. 18 John R. Gold and Margaret M. Gold, “‘Access for All’: The Rise of the Paralympic Games,” The Journal of the Royal Society for the Promotion of Health 127:3 (2007), pp. 133–141; Steve Bailey, Athlete First: A History of the Paralympic Movement (Chichester: Wiley, 2008); and Howe, Cultural Politics. 19 "Ollimp’ik kûnûl-e karin chang’aeja ollimp’ik” (Disabled Olympics Hidden in the Shadow of the Olympics), Shin Tong-a (October, 1988), pp. 174–175. 20 Howe, Cultural Politics, pp. 40–41, 42. 21 Bailey, Athlete First, p. 91. 22 Norman Haase, “Just Don’t Call it Ping Pong,” Hisnibs Blog, comment posted August 29, 2004, http://www.hisnibs.blogspot.com (accessed August 14, 2008). 23 See MBC, “Sûp’och’û Chibaehara! – 5 Kong 3S Chôngch’aek” and Son Chông Mok, Han’guk Tosi 60nyôn-ûi Iyagi (Sixty Years of Korean City Stories), (Seoul: Hanul Books, 2005). 24 Song, “Che 5 Konghwagukha-esô-ûi Sûpoch’û Chôngch’aek.” 25 MBC, “Sûp’och’û Chibaehara! – 5 Kong 3S Chôngch’aek.” 26 Son, Sôul Tosi Kyehoek Iyagi. 27 Kim Bang-Chool, “Professional Baseball in Korea, 1981–1989,” Proceedings of the 20th Annual North American Society for Sport History Conference, French Lick, Indiana, May 24–27, 2002; Lee Jong-Young, “The Development of Football in Cultural Policy and the 1988 Seoul Olympics 119

Korea” in Japan, Korea and the 2002 World Cup, ed. John Horne and Wolfram Manzenreiter (London: Routledge, 2002); Joseph A. Reaves, Taking in a Game: A History of Baseball in Asia (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2002); Son, Sôul Tosi Kyehoek Iyagi; Cho Younghan. “Broadcasting Major League Baseball as a Governmental Instrument in South Korea,” paper presented at the First International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, May 5–7, 2005; and Ok Gwang, Transformation of Modern Korean Sport (Elizabeth, NJ: Hollym, 2007). 28 See, for example, Nam Dong Chôl, “Bulnûng ûi Sidae Pam ûi Yôwoang ‘Aema Puin’ 20 yôn” (Queen of That Impossible Era’s Night “Mrs. Emma”) Cine21 (February 8, 2002); Son, Han’guk Tosi 60nyôn-ûi Iyagi or any history of South Korean cinema. 29 MBC, “Sûp’och’û Chibaehara! – 5 Kong 3S Chôngch’aek”; Son, Han’guk Tosi 60nyôn-ûi Iyagi. 30 Weber, Kwangju in the Eyes of the World; Son, Han’guk Tosi 60nyôn-ûi Iyagi. 31 Horkheimer and Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment. 32 Sôul Ch’ôlgomin Hyôp’ûi hoe, 1 Chôn nyôn Bogosô; ACHR and Third World Network, Battle for Housing Rights in Korea. 33 www.ktpage.net/219098, posted August 19, 2008. 34 Son, Han’guk Tosi 60nyôn-ûi Iyagi. 8 “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?”: The National Body, National Anxiety, and the Olympics in China1

Andrew Morris

n January 2008, an outspoken columnist at London’s Daily Telegraph Ipublished his candid thoughts on his city’s 2012 Olympic effort: What, after all, is the Olympics? A giant boondoggle. A fi reworks display. A primeval exercise in public bombast, encouraged by preen- ing politicians. . . . We didn’t ask for them, we don’t want them. . . . Does it make you burst with pride, while you sit there on your sag- ging sofa stuffi ng fi stfuls of lukewarm chips into your pie-hole, to think that you were born on the same land mass as someone who can swim a bit faster than other people? Does knowing that [the Olympics are] happening in the same city as you really validate your whole existence?2

I was struck immediately—not just by the fact that it would have been hard to imagine a similar piece published in a PRC newspaper during the approach to Beijing 2008—by the paradox that many in Great Britain, a nation of course responsible for much of the spread of modern “sports” around the world, now critique so savagely the very ideological bases of competitive sports and the Olympics, while China, seen for so long as so far removed from the modern nation-state order, would now be so invested in it. During the preparations for Beijing 2008, Gallup polls showed that some 95 percent of the public “support[ed] the Olympic Games,”3 even if the forms of behavior that would illustrate a lack of “support” were not speciﬁ cally outlined. But, considering the old Chinese proverb that “One man will carry two buckets of water for his own use, two men will carry one for their joint use, but three men will carry none for anybody’s use,” it becomes a useful scholarly exercise to wonder how such near-unanimity could have been achieved on the 2008 Games. “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?” 121

Here, I would like to discuss how the PRC government achieved this support by appealing to a national anxiety that has been at the heart of Chinese physical culture, or tiyu, for more than a century.

* * * * *

In 1908, U.S. missionary C. H. Robertson observed how three simple but weighty questions could “grip in a remarkable way the heart and imagination of Chinese ofﬁ cials, educators, and students.” He and his colleagues at the Tianjin YMCA had taken to stimulating the modern and nationalist sentiments of their Chinese charges by asking them:

When will China be able to send a winning athlete to the Olympics? When will China be able to send a winning team to the Olympics? When will China be able to invite the world to come to Peking for the Olympics?4

Exactly one century later, Beijing has fi nally been able to answer the third of those questions. The lasting resonance of “Big Robbie’s” challenging queries can be seen in their inclusion in the celebratory volume Beijing 2008, published just weeks after the International Olympic Committee’s (IOC) offi cial acceptance of Beijing’s bid. But Chinese scholars and government offi cials want to fi nd out when a Chinese person fi rst asked these inspiring and immortal questions of the young people of China. After all, how would it possibly do to have the Beijing Games—thought by many to be China’s fi nest international moment in centuries—anticipated by an American, of all people? This national insecurity, at the very moment when the Beijing Olympics is being trumpeted as China’s triumph, is telling but consistent with China’s past. Much of the history of China’s modern sports and physical culture program (tiyu) has been phrased, experienced, understood, and remembered as a gesture of national defense. Enemies have come, gone, and come again—the Western and Japanese imperialists, the Communists, the Nationalists, the footbound and weak, the ignorant and unhygienic, the decadent and materialistic, Taiwan, Falun Gong, and (again) U.S. and Japanese imperialists—all having served as forces that threatened China’s national body and that would have to be defeated with the rhythms, motions, disciplines, and ideologies of modern sport. Thus, over the last century, sport in China has served as a marker of political and social power, but it has also represented a profound national anxiety. In this chapter, I would like to investigate this realm and the tension between power and anxiety, strength and fear, that has characterized so many of China’s political movements over its many governmental transitions since the fall of the Qing Dynasty. * * * * * 122 The East Asian Olympiads

From the earliest moments of the Republic of China (ROC) period (1912–1949), all types of physical culture exhibited an affi nity with a defensive nationalism. The fi rst high-profi le example of anti-imperialism and nationalism through Chinese sport came in the 1915 Second Far Eastern Games, held in Shanghai just days after President Yuan Shikai had acceded to Japan’s Twenty-One Demands, its wartime attempt to vault to the forefront of imperialist exploitation of China’s markets and environment. Hoping to save some measure of prestige, Yuan personally paid to bring the standout Honolulu Chinese Baseball Team to represent the motherland in the Games.5 This was a clear violation of the Games’ rules on territorial representation and use of professional players, so the team never appeared in the Games. But the players’ presence in Shanghai (they had won eight consecutive games there against American teams in preparation) clearly provided an inspiring taste of pan-Chinese nationalism for athletes and fans alike. As one patriot wrote of the Honolulu Chinese, “[W]e feel certain that they worked with hearty goodwill for the honor of China. . . . If some of them are professionals, it cannot alter the fact that they are all Chinese.”6 The 100,000 fans who attended the week-long Games had much to cheer about, seeming to forget regional and political differences for the sake of the nation. As the YMCA national physical director wrote, “For the fi rst time men from the north, south, east, and west stood together and cheered for China, and it mattered not whether an athlete was from north, south, east or west. So long as he had the fi ve-barred ribbon [the national fl ag] on, they cheered him.”7 And when the “Chinese” soccer team—composed of only Hong Kong players—defeated the Filipino team, the Shanghai crowd surged forward to carry their victorious “countrymen” off the fi eld atop their shoulders.8 Sporting nationalism did not have to appear in this type of mega-event setting, however. Wang Huaiqi, a physical educator from Jiangsu, in 1916 published in The Chinese Educational Review rules of a calisthenics activity that would etch a consciousness of China’s international struggles in his students’ minds. His “May Ninth Calisthenics” commemorated that “disgraceful, shameful day . . . etched deep in the minds” of all Chinese, when in 1915 the Yuan Shikai government agreed to Japan’s predatory Twenty-One Demands. In this fl ag calisthenics routine, students clutching the national and army fl ags moved through fi fty-nine motions to their teacher’s fl ute calls. The grand fi nale left the students, arms raised, in a formation tracing the Chinese characters for May Ninth, capping in spectacular style their long efforts to create a somatic memorial to the shame suffered by their nation.9

* * * * *

Michael Herzfeld, in his book Cultural Intimacy: Social Poetics in the Nation-State, argues that embarrassment and failure can actually reveal a society’s most intimate shared beliefs. The key, in his words, is to locate the “source of external embarrassment . . . that nevertheless provide[s] “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?” 123 insiders with their assurance of common sociality.”10 Sport, with its quasi-martial qualities, became a logical and powerful site within which nationalistic Chinese could address and hopefully avenge the “national humiliations” (guochi) that they had all suffered together. In 1922, Xi’an’s new sports grounds featured “a map of national humiliations, with big lettering to explain each one . . . as China has been carved up so many times.”11 Paul Cohen has shown how, in the early-Republican culture of “national humiliation” observations, remembering was seen as a modern act opposed to the “traditional” passive Chinese practice of forgetting these humiliations.12 Physical culture—and its self-conscious commitment to action and teamwork—no doubt seemed the perfect modern way to relive and resolve the problems of China’s national weakness.

* * * * *

The 1920s were the time when much of this sporting nationalism emerged—often, though not always—from the left. In 1923, the Socialist Youth League of China called for the “Sinicization” of physical education and sports,13 and the Socialist Youth Brigade’s mouthpiece The Pioneer condemned capitalist and Western sport for “eating away at [sporting proletarians’] class consciousness and their courage to carry on class struggle.”14 The famed leftist Yun Daiying speciﬁ cally blasted the role of foreign schools in the Chinese sporting world:

Sometimes [mission schools] will select a few athletes for special cultivation, nourishing them with milk and cookies, so that they will excel in track meets or in soccer games, thereby serving as a signboard advertisement for the school. . . . Foreign capitalists have always needed to ﬁ nd within China a few “compradors” . . . to serve as their slaves.15

Here, the capitalist trappings that dominated modern sport provided the perfect means for an attack on sport as problematic, even if ultimately useful to the Chinese people and nation. This question of how one should engage in modern sport and physical culture has gripped many Chinese ever since this moment. During the 1930s, Chinese politicians and thinkers of all stripes brought up the question of a “national game.” Chen Lifu, the University of Pittsburgh– educated confi dante of Chiang Kai-shek, described the importance of a national sport in uniting, strengthening, and determining the rise of Greece, the United States, Britain, and Japan.16 Physical education expert Wu Cheng, taking a similar view, suggested swimming as China’s national sport. Most sports were “foreign goods,” wrote Wu, but swimming hailed from ancient China. And with all of China’s rivers, there would be no need to build “aristocratized, Westernized” pools or other equipment to build the courage of the Chinese people.17 The question was resolved in 1935 when Shanghai’s Chin Fen Sports Monthly announced a contest open to all subscribers submitting essays 124 The East Asian Olympiads on the question, “Which type of game or sport should our nation take as its national pastime?”18 Five months later, the contest results were announced: soccer and basketball were named Chinese national co- pastimes. (Other reader submissions comprised not quite national but valuable pastimes such as martial arts, volleyball, swimming, shuttlecock, gymnastics, boxing, and ping-pong; also included were foot races in full military gear and labor.)19 It is instructive to see how these different readers and contributors imagined these physical activities—all but a couple foreign in origin—truly and fi nally cultivating solidarity in the Chinese people as they had done in the imperialist nations to whom they wanted to catch up. But for many in the Chinese sporting world, the litany of bourgeois sports named above could never do the trick. A cadre of experts infl u- enced by fascist physical culture in Germany and Japan emerged in the early 1930s to challenge the liberal Anglo-American near-monopoly on the fi eld. These scholars made clear associations between the recent industrial and national successes of the German, Japanese, and Ital- ian nation-races and their success in tuning militarized physical education programs to unique racial qualities summoned up from their national pasts. In 1935, Sichuan Province Physical Culture Inspector Liu Shenzhan proclaimed, “New physical culturists must create a single unifi ed body of the Chinese citizenry, where each element of this body understands the same goals—of saving the nation and revitalizing the nation-race—in their hearts and minds. . . .”20 The leader of this school, the German-educated Cheng Dengke, wrote, “In the circumstances shared by China and Germany, who have both been oppressed by the powers and their treaties, and whose economies are in straitened conditions, we especially know the importance of elementary school physical education.”21 The Nazis disgusted many Chinese with their racial supremacism and their reign of terror inside and outside Germany. However, the dozens of articles published in China on German physical culture by German-educated tiyu planners like Cheng still allowed this model to achieve great currency throughout the Chinese tiyu community. Japan’s model was another very appealing one, even if it was the Japanese enemy against whom strong Chinese bodies would have to defend their nation. Chinese Nationalist Party (Guomindang, or KMT) bigwig and sporting expert Chu Minyi explained in 1929 how Japan’s strength as a nation was due to its bushido¯ tradition and the spirit of the “Yamato soul,” preconditions for national strength that were within China’s reach since it shared so many traditions with Japan.22 However, not every Chinese physical educator was so enthralled with Japan. Anhui Elementary School tiyu instructor Yu Zizhen in 1932 wrote in Sports Weekly with an “Anti-Japan Expressive Calisthenics” performed to the song “Stab at Japan,” the fi rst verse of which went:

Comrades, take your guns and swords, Prepare them well, prepare them well. “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?” 125

Stab at Japan, stab at Japan, Thrash and destroy the den of the dwarf slaves. Capture the Japanese, get them alive, And kill the thieves down to the last dog. Don’t fear the dwarf slaves, as proud and arrogant as they may be.23

Clearly, some cared more about Japan’s imperialist aggression against their republic than about some fellow-Asian national essence that could be bottled and used to strengthen the Chinese polity. Hu Tong, a like-minded instructor at Dongtanxiang Elementary School in Nan- chang, Jiangxi, designed ten “patriotic games,” the main theme of which was armed anti-Japanese resistance. Hu hoped that these games could stimulate “the children’s determination to wipe away the shame and save the nation.” Games like “Defeat Japan,” “Boycott Japanese Goods,” and “Root out the Traitor” allowed Hu’s students, by throwing balls and swinging sticks, to act out and share in the dream of creating a nation that could ﬁ nally repel the Japanese imperialists.24

* * * * *

China has never produced an earthshaking scientist or author or explorer. . . not even a talented athlete for the Olympics! When you think about it, how could anyone respect us? – novelist Lao She, Ma and Son (1935)25

China made its inaugural Olympic appearance in the 1932 Games in Los Angeles. By this, their tenth incarnation, the modern Olympics had become a powerful symbol of national strength, accomplishment, and the will to participate in the international community that Games founder Pierre de Coubertin called the “republic of muscles.”26 The offi cial decision to join the Olympic Games represented the ultimate test of an ambitious, if self-doubting, Chinese sporting community. All knew that the very Chinese nation, its race and its people, would be coming under close and lasting examination on the playing fi elds of Los Angeles. China’s entry into this grand company of nations was made by a single pioneer venturing west: a twenty-year-old fruitpicker’s son, sprinter Liu Changchun, who began his track and fi eld career in the Japanese-controlled northeastern port city of Dalian. The China National Amateur Athletic Federation originally announced in 1932 that it would not send a team to Los Angeles.27 However, a Japanese announcement four days later that Liu and fellow Dalian runner Yu Xiwei would be representing the Manchurian puppet state in the Olympics sent the Chinese sporting community into a nervous rage.28 Liu, after publicly vowing that he had never made any contact with sporting personnel from the puppet regime and assuring that “my conscience is still with me, my hot blood still fl ows,” left for Los Angeles in July with his coach Song Junfu, representing the entire 126 The East Asian Olympiads

Republic of China.29 Liu and Song arrived in Los Angeles on July 29, 1932, just one day before the Games were scheduled to begin, and were greeted by dozens of Chinese-Californians excited by this belated show of Chinese Olympic skill. Despite sparkling starts in his two races, the 100- and 200-meter sprint heats, Liu placed ﬁ fth and fourth respectively, and was quickly eliminated from competition in both events.30 But Liu’s diary shows the importance he and so many others placed on his participation:

I have paid attention to the attitudes of Americans since I got to the States, and everywhere I go they make me feel as though they really do sympathize with China. It’s the same with [athletes from] the smaller nations too. They don’t say anything explicitly, but with athletes from all nations, it’s in the sound of their voice when they say, “Japan . . .” with a bitter laugh. As far as I can tell, almost every nation sympathizes with us. . . . Have even I made some contribution?! Have even I made some contribution?!31

A much larger team was sent to the 1936 Olympics, as fi fty-fi ve athletes—China’s fi nest track and fi eld athletes, basketball and soccer players, weightlifters, boxers, cyclists, and even martial artists (for a guoshu demonstration in Berlin)—traveled aboard the Italian "Conte Verde" for twenty-fi ve days to arrive in Europe. Each stop in Southeast Asia brought fabulous welcomes from the Chinese populations there, and allowed the Olympic enterprise to also serve as a tool of a transnational “Greater China” ethnic pride. The team’s arrival in Berlin was a memorable one for all involved. Arriving in the Olympic host city on July 23, the team was greeted by 300 Chinese residents and students, all chanting, “Long live the Republic of China,” and waving Chinese fl ags that local restaurants had sold before the team arrived. This was the proudest moment of the whole Olympics for sprinter Cheng Jinguan, who remembered the crowds of Berliners who came to the train station out of great curiosity. As Cheng recalled, “They thought that Chinese men wore little hats and Chinese women had little bound feet, but we came out wearing Western suits!”32 Some Chinese observers were critical of the Olympic project, calling the government vain to spend 170,000 yuan (U.S.$51,300) to send “some athletes who will suffi ce . . . just so that the [ROC] fl ag can fl ap above the Berlin Olympic Stadium.”33 But the Olympic delegation leader rebuffed this critique, asking the Chinese sports world to aban- don simple economics for the symbolic grandeur of the Olympics: “The achievement of international recognition alone is worth millions to us as a nation. . . . I believe [the athletes] have accomplished more for China than several ambassadors could achieve in years.”34 For many, the Olympians’ arrival itself in Berlin was a de facto Chinese triumph. However, a theme of failure dominated the post-Olympics evaluations delivered by members of the Chinese sporting community, who just “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?” 127 wanted to fi nally win something. Former supporters of the Chinese team turned on the athletes, writing, “How badly they have failed, all the world knows.”35 One point on which almost all seemed to be in agreement was the idea that the still-sickly, weak Chinese body was truly to blame. Head Olympic delegate Shen Siliang, upon returning to Shanghai, simply remarked, “[Chinese] physiques are underdeveloped, and just not fi t enough to compete with others.” Seven years later, one prominent eugenicist still cried that this Olympic failure proved the Chinese national body to be a “weary, humpbacked cripple.”36 The standard for comparison was clearly the hated Japanese. Even before the Olympics began, one author, praising “the success of our Eastern neighbors,” had warned the sporting public, “There are no Chinese among the heroes atop the international athletic stage!”37 After Japan won eighteen medals at Berlin, eighth-most overall, Chinese sports enthusiasts were in awe. One author wondered, “Their physique is no better than ours; they are usually shorter in height. There are 101 things that can be said to be similar between [us]. Why are they so far ahead of us?”38 The ROC sent one more squad to the 1948 Summer Olympics in London. It is a tribute to the resilience of the Nationalist sporting community that after so much destruction in the war with Japan and the subsequent Nationalist–Communist civil war, many individuals still had such high hopes for these Games.39 One bright spot for the ROC delegation was the basketball team, which fi nished with a 5–3 record and set an Olympic record by wal- loping the Iraqi team, 125–25.40 However, overall, London was one fi nal “disastrous failure” for Chiang Kai-shek’s regime, having again fi nished the Games with no medals.41 More humiliating, however, was the fi asco that took place after the Games, when Olympic offi cials real- ized that they did not have enough money to pay for the delegation’s return plane tickets. The team was reduced to selling their leftover food and asking for small donations from British well-wishers before they could purchase the tickets and bring to an end yet another Olympic misadventure.42

* * * * *

The People’s Republic of China (PRC) sporting era began on October 22, 1949, just three weeks after the dramatic founding of the new state, when a great Beijing Municipal Athletic Meet attracted over 30,000 participants and spectators.43 The 1950s importation of Soviet models of training, bureaucracy, and socialist education, combined with the Party’s unprecedented reach into local life, allowed the PRC sporting project to take Chinese sport to breadths, lengths, and depths never reached during the Republican era. Yet great continuity still existed between Nationalist and Communist conceptions of physical culture. The connections between the modern, competitive nation-state (itself a recent historical invention whose logic few questioned) and a healthy, 128 The East Asian Olympiads self-disciplining populace was not one that the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) sought to change. The ruling CCP cultivated an extensive rhetoric of “red sports”— that is to say, uniquely “communist” forms and ideologies of sporting participation and propagation—that still is given credence by some today.44 However, few modern sporting principles actually ever came under serious interrogation by the new masters of China. Offi cial 1950s programs in the martial arts and the “Ready for Labor and Defense of the Motherland Physical Culture System” could only have made the old 1930s-era KMT advocates proud.45 But the Olympic Games, for the PRC like the ROC before it, quickly became the new measure of national worth. Nationalist–Communist fi ghting on the mainland had hardly ceased when the war turned to this other vitally important battleground. Beginning in 1951, two Chinese Olympic Committees— one representing the Taipei Nationalist regime and encouraged by IOC Chairman Avery Brundage, the other representing Beijing and aided by the Soviet Union—began making their respective cases for their exclusive right to represent “China” at the 1952 Helsinki Games.46 The IOC, long before formulating their “Olympic model,” ruled in July 1952 to allow both Chinese teams to join the Games (although in 1981 the committee recognized the Republic of China only as “Chinese Taipei,” or Zhonghua Taibei47). ROC representative Hao Gengsheng declared that his athletes would never compete in the same arena as Chinese Communist athletes, and announced the ROC’s withdrawal from the 1952 Olympics. The coast was now clear for the PRC delegation. Although the PRC team left Beijing six days after the Games had begun in Helsinki, Premier Zhou Enlai dismissed any who would quibble over such minor details, declaring, “Raising the fi ve-starred red [PRC] fl ag at the Olympic Games is in itself the victory.” The PRC fl ag was raised, and one Chinese male swimmer was able to join a backstroke preliminary race before the Games ended.48 This small victory preserved intact one of the very bases of the modern Chinese sporting project, where inclusion in the sporting rituals of the world community is understood as a fundamental victory for a Chinese nation fi nally reaching modernity. The PRC–ROC battle for Chinese sporting legitimacy continued for the better part of three decades. At the 1956 Melbourne Olympiad, which the ROC joined and the PRC boycotted, an agent working for the PRC pulled off a switch in the Olympic Village fl ags department. The intended result, the raising of the PRC’s red fl ag upon the ROC (“Formosa China”) delegation’s arrival, stunned and shocked the free sporting world.49 During the 1960 Olympics in Rome, the PRC—counting on the IOC’s cooperation—could keep their hands off the fl ags. At the last moment, the IOC informed the Taiwan delegation that they could not compete as the “Republic of China,” but rather as “Taiwan.” Not knowing, of course, that four decades later this would be many Taiwanese citizens’ most fervent wish, the ROC team participated in the Games “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?” 129 under protest.50 Four years later at the Tokyo Games, however, it was back to skullduggery for the PRC, whose intelligence agents enticed two traitorous teammates of Taiwanese legend C. K. Yang to drug him before the decathlon. These athletes earned the right to defect back to their beloved mainland by spiking Yang’s orange juice just days before the competition, and thus preventing Yang, the world-record holder at the time and Sports Illustrated’s reigning “World’s Best Athlete,” from embarrassing the Communist regime with a sure gold-medal effort.51 The Cultural Revolution provided an interregnum from this zero- sum understanding of sport; U.S. ping-pong players visiting China in 1971 were famously stymied by the way the Chinese players would lose points on purpose for reasons of “friendship” and “diplomacy.” (The idea of worrying about “victory” in a ballgame being altogether too petty and bourgeois for participants in Mao’s massive remaking of Chinese culture.) But this odd take on Maoist internationalism disappeared quickly with the coming of the Deng Xiaoping reform era and a return to (at least some) principles of free markets and fair competition that had always formed the ideological basis of modern sport. Anthropologist Susan Brownell’s Training the Body for China includes a wonderful description of the mania that greeted the PRC women’s volleyball team’s victory in the 1981 World Cup. The university student who wrote to the team, swearing that their victory over Japan had allowed him for the fi rst time to feel “the honor of being human,” was professing a notion that, while surely sincere, was hardly original: he was simply the latest among many to imagine a defeat, sporting or otherwise, of Japan as perhaps the most gratifying nationalist gesture possible.52

* * * * *

The contemporary period offers several examples of how deeply the defensive notion of national pride remains at the heart of Chinese sport. The professional Chinese Basketball Association (CBA) is one example. A common concern of fans writing in to the offi cial magazine Basketball relates to the appropriate level of “Chineseness” maintained by the CBA—for example, asking why all the CBA players wear “foreign” shoe brands, instead of supporting Chinese companies, or suggesting that Chinese characters be used to stencil players’ names on the backs of their jerseys instead of romanized pinyin like “Z. Z. Wang” or “X. B. Gong.”53 But the most signifi cant subject of nationalist basketball discourse relates to the recruitment of foreign players to supplement CBA rosters. In the 1990s, each team was allowed two foreign players, and Americans occupied the overwhelming majority of these slots. Members of the basketball bureaucracy seemed to take a very ambivalent stand on the role of the CBA’s foreign players. In one lead article of Basketball, titled “To Fire Up the Basketball Market, We Need More Foreign Players,” the author told of the foreigners’ contributions and reminded readers that 130 The East Asian Olympiads the U.S. National Basketball Association (NBA) itself employed many foreign players.54 But many fans do not buy this line. In one fan forum, subscribers protested these Americans’ presence, holding that these “second- and third-rate European and American players” could not truly help the development of Chinese basketball since they were only in the CBA to “sell tricks” and make money, and that they were not worth the disruption.55 One fan was even more dramatic, stating that “[This] is Chinese basketball. Those winning glory for the nation in international competition are the men of China, not these ‘Eight-Nation Allied Forces’ [the foreign armies that invaded the Qing Dynasty in 1900].”56 The tensions present in this nationalist narrative fi nally came to a head at the CBA All-Star Game in Shenyang in April 1998, a contest that for the fi rst time used an ill-advised “Chinese vs. Foreigner” format. The Foreign All-Stars won 83–80 on a last-second three-point shot by Ray Kelly of the Sichuan Blue Sword Beer Pandas, but the victorious side was quickly showered with cans and bottles, a barrage so heavy and prolonged that the state-operated CCTV was forced to cut off its broadcast.57 The Asian Cup soccer competition, held in Beijing in 2004, saw another example of this bitter and defensive nationalism. Fans came to Workers’ Stadium for the Cup fi nal, which pitted Japan against the host side, prepared for much more than a soccer game. The Japanese national anthem was drowned out by boos, and bottles and debris were thrown at the Japanese side. But more instructive were the many banners displaying numbers and slogans such as “300,000” (the number of people that offi cial PRC history says were massacred by Japanese imperial forces at Nanjing in 1937–1938), or a more revealing “This time, the Chinese people get to be the bullies.” Similar songs and chants swept through the crowd, like “Kill! Kill! Kill!” or “May a big sword chop off the Japanese heads!”58 After Japan defeated the PRC’s national team, things got really ugly. Riot police clad in body armor and carrying shotguns came face to face with hundreds of patriotic Chinese fans throwing bottles, burning Japanese fl ags, and shouting obscenities. A car carrying a Japanese embassy minister was hit and its window smashed, and at least two foreign photographers covering the scenes were roughed up by the police themselves.59 Although the Beijing police apologized to the Japanese embassy, it is clear that this was behavior that closely followed offi cial scripts for cathartic nationalism that can be summoned up and extinguished very strategically by the present government. Even baseball, a sport with very little history in China, can become part of this aggressive and expansive nationalism. Taiwanese fans of New York Yankees pitcher Wang Chien-ming, a native of Taiwan, were shocked in 2006 when Chinese sports pages like the Oriental Sports Daily began referring to Wang as a “Chinese pitcher.” Headlines in Taiwan claimed that “China was trying to steal our glory and bask in our light,” a reference to Wang’s near-offi cial title of “The Light of “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?” 131

Taiwan.”60 But once again, the ease with which the PRC’s boldest and most desperate territorial claims are accommodated perfectly by the Chinese sporting world is instructive of the link between sports and Chinese nationalism.

* * * * *

This, of course, brings us to the 2008 Olympic Games hosted by Beijing. Today, the medals won and records set by Chinese athletes in the Games and other international competitions are understood as unquestionable proof of China’s superpower status in the world. The Republican-era goose eggs earned by the Chinese delegations to the 1932, 1936, and 1948 Olympic Games have become a dead-on carica- ture of the inadequacies and weakness of “Old China” and its agonies and defeats suffered at the hands of the powerful imperialist nations of the world—who, not coincidentally, no longer dare to perpetrate these aggressions on the citizens of New China. The twenty-fi rst-century China, fi ercely nationalistic and proudly materialistic, now scorns those pre-1949 sporting misfortunes. Clearly, might is as right as weakness and defeat are laughable and pathetic. Weak and backward nations do not host the Olympic Games: wit- ness the epochal qualities attributed to the 1964 Olympic moment in standard narratives of Japan’s postwar redevelopment. Beijing 2008 will likely take on similar signifi cance in the narratives of the reform era, although this enthusiasm is probably much greater than the offi - cial pothole-fi xing impulse often cited in justifying the Olympic bid: commitment to important issues such as improved human rights standards, higher living standards, environmental progress, cleaner air, faster infrastructure development, new communications and sewage treatment facilities, unifi cation with Taiwan, and cleaner public toilets. The original offi cial English-language motto of the 2008 Games was “New Beijing, Great Olympics.” It happened not to correspond with the Chinese motto that accompanied it—“xin Beijing, xin Aoyun,” or “New Beijing, New Olympics”—an ambition that the PRC could in fact remake the Olympic tradition that has seldom asked for Chinese approval. Perhaps because of the quickly-revealed gap between the Chinese and English texts, the offi cial motto was changed later to “One World, One Dream,” an even more ambitious project. Both describe the outward-looking, proudly nationalist image of a central world role for China that the optimistic, upwardly mobile urban population—as well as the elites—would like to project. But, given the PRC’s consistent support for the murderous Janjaweed militia in Darfur, this Olympic gathering could also go down in history as the “Genocide Games.”61 The ideological pretense of the Olympic movement clearly provides convenient sites for bitter protest: the “Free Tibet” campaign has circulated a clever “Gold Medal for Oppression” logo of fi ve interlocking wreaths of barbed wire.62 The very real tension 132 The East Asian Olympiads between the contradictory goals of openness and cosmopolitanism on one hand, and offi cial suppression of human rights and unilateral complicity in genocide on the other,63 and the Olympics’ centrality in how all of this could be resolved, prompts attention that surely should defy simplistic charges of “China-bashing.”

* * * * *

C. H. Robertson’s questions of 1908 remind us of the particular modes of consciousness and anxiety that have characterized much Chinese discourse since those last years of the Qing Dynasty. China’s many swings between the energy and popularity of the revolutionary regime and the degradation and violence of the failed state have helped to create a popular discourse consistent for its attention to universal ideals promoted by powerful nations, a concern for how well these are being matched by China’s rulers, and an anxiety over this effort that often results in a backlash against these same nations whose power, of course, often has been derived at the expense of the people of China. Modern physical culture—with (1) its obvious connections to the imperialist powers of the twentieth century, (2) its built-in structure for this direct comparison of national strength and ability, and (3) the fact that one’s national teams might very well lose any given contest, thus prompting just this kind of (often masochistic) national self- refl ection—has thus become a very appropriate site for the resolving of these tensions. Almost all those involved in this Chinese sporting community—from hard-working physical education instructors, to elite Olympic athletes—have had to measure the fruits of their efforts against these awesome expectations. In this way, then, it makes perfect sense why, for example, 2004 Olympic gold-medal hurdler Liu Xiang could be tapped to play in a feature fi lm the role of Liu Changchun, China’s fi rst Olympic athlete who made China so proud in 1932.64

NOTES 1 Portions of this article were originally published in Andrew Morris, “‘How Could Anyone Respect Us?’: A Century of Olympic Consciousness and National Anxiety in China,” The Brown Journal of World Affairs XIV:II (Spring/ Summer 2008), pp. 25–39. In the days before the 2008 Olympic Games at Beijing, journalist Oliver Schell pursued similar ideas in two articles: “China’s Agony of Defeat,” Newsweek (August 4, 2008) and “China: Humiliation and the Olympics,” New York Review of Books 55:13 (August 14, 2008). 2 Sam Leith, “The Olympics is Just Sports Day for Adults,” The Daily Telegraph, January 19, 2008, p. 25. 3 Beijing Organizing Committee for the Games of the XXIX Olympiad, “National, Regional and City Characteristics” (2001), http://www.beijing- 2008.org/eolympic/ztq/5–1/5–1.html (Accessed February 5, 2003); Mei Hui and Wu Yiyi, “Olympics Seen to Bring Higher Living Standards,” China News Digest, February 7, 2001. “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?” 133

4 Annual Reports of the Foreign Secretaries of the International Committee, October 1, 1909 to September 30, 1910 (New York: International Committee YMCA, 1910), p.192; Annual Reports of the Foreign Secretaries of the International Committee, October 1, 1907 to September 30, 1908 (New York: International Committee YMCA, 1908), p. 163. 5 Annual Reports of the Foreign Secretaries of the International Committee, October 1, 1913 to September 30, 1914 (New York: International Committee YMCA, 1914), p. 73. 6 Gunsun Hoh, Physical Education in China (Shanghai: The Commercial Press, 1926), p. 97; J. Wong-Quincey, “The Far Eastern Championship Games,” China’s Young Men 10:10 (June 15, 1915), pp. 426, 429. 7 J. H. Crocker, “100,000 People at the Far Eastern Championship Games,” Association Men 40 (August 1915), p. 565. 8 Francis E. Wilber, Letter to “Dearest Folkses,” May 21, 1915, YMCA Archives, University of Minnesota. 9 Wang Huaiqi, “Zui xin qicao (wu yue jiu ri),” Jiaoyu zazhi 8:9 (September 15, 1916), pp. 33–38. 10 Michael Herzfeld, Cultural Intimacy: Social Poetics in the Nation-State, second edition (New York: Routledge, 2004), pp. 3, 29. 11 Article in Shaanxi ribao (May 13, 1922), quoted in Wang Zengming, “Feng Yuxiang jiangjun yu tiyu,” Tiyu wenshi 10 (June 1984), pp. 9–10. 12 Paul A. Cohen, “Remembering and Forgetting National Humiliation in Twentieth-Century China,” in China Unbound: Evolving Perspectives on the Chinese Past (New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003), pp. 155–156. 13 Qiao Keqin and Guan Wenming, Zhongguo tiyu sixiangshi (Lanzhou: Gansu minzu chubanshe, 1993), p. 254. 14 “Tiyu wenti jueyian,” Xianqu 18 (May 10,1923), p. 3. 15 Daiying, “Dadao jiaohui jiaoyu,” Zhongguo qingnian 60 (January 3, 1925), p. 159. 16 Chen Lifu, “Chuangzao shihe Zhongguo guoqing de yundong,” in Tiyu yu jiuguo (Nanjing: Zhongguo Guomindang zhongyang zhixing weiyuanhui xuanchuan weiyuanhui, 1933), pp. 101–102. 17 Wu Cheng, “Ding youyong wei guomin yundong de guanjian,” Guoshu, tiyu, junshi 34 (June 28, 1934) [Weekly feature in Zhongguo ribao], p. 8. 18 “Er zhounian zhengqiu da yundong,” Qinfen tiyu yuebao 2:12 (September 1935). 19 “‘Guomin youxi’ xuanshang da’an jiexiao,” Qinfen tiyu yuebao 3.5 (February 1936). 20 Liu Shenzhan, “Tiyu jiuguo lun (er),” Qinfen tiyu yuebao 2:11 (August 1935), p. 719. 21 Cheng Dengke, “Deguo xiaoxue tiyu shishi gaikuang ji ganyan,” Jiaoyu congkan 2:2 (June 1935), p. 1. 22 Preface to Okamoto Noritsune, translated by Guo Renji, Tiyu zhi kexue de jichu [Original title Taiiku kaibo¯] (Shanghai: Xieqiao yiyuan, 1929), p. 3. 23 Yu Zizhen, “Kang Ri de biaoqingcao,” Tiyu zhoubao 44 (December 3, 1932), p. 22. 24 Hu Tong, “Xiaoxue aiguo youxi jiaocai,” Qinfen tiyu yuebao 1:4 (January 10, 1934), pp. 46–52. 134 The East Asian Olympiads

25 Lao She, Ma and Son, trans. Jean M. James (San Francisco: Chinese Materials Center, Inc., 1980 [1935]), p. 89. 26 John J. MacAloon, This Great Symbol: Pierre de Coubertin and the Origins of the Modern Olympic Games (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), p. 137. 27 Jizhe, “Liu Changchun chuxi Shijiehui zhi yunniang,” Tiyu zhoubao 23 (July 9, 1932), p. 18. 28 Wang Guan, “Guanyu weiguo de qianpai Yu Liu ji qita,” Tiyu zhoubao 20 (June 18, 1932), pp. 18–19. 29 “Liu Changchun zishu,” Tiyu zhoubao 20 (June 18, 1932), p. 20. 30 “Liu Changchun de riji,” Tiyu zhoubao 32 (September 10, 1932), pp. 21–22; Hu Shiliu, “Di shi jie Shijie yundong dahui ji,” Shenbao yuekan 1:3 (September 15, 1932), p. 122. 31 “Liu Changchun de riji,” p. 23. 32 Interview with Cheng Jinguan, Suzhou, China, March 2, 1997. 33 Jiang Huaiqing, “Bo-lin mian qu ba!” Guomin tiyu huikan 1 (January 1, 1936), p. 19. 34 Lin Yin-feng, “Weekly interviews - Mr. Williams Z. L. Sung,” The China Critic 15:1 (October 1, 1936), pp. 18–19. 35 “Editorial Commentary,” T’ien Hsia Monthly 3:2 (September 1936), p. 85. 36 Zhang Junjun, Huazu suzhi zhi jiantao (Chongqing: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1943), p. 6; Lung-Kee Sun, The Chinese National Character: From Nationhood to Individuality (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, Inc., 2002), p. 172. 37 “Shijie yundongchang shang zhi yingjie,” Zhonghua yuebao 4:7 (July 1, 1936), pp. 6–8. 38 “The Life for an Athlete,” The China Critic 14:12 (September 17, 1936), p. 275. 39 Hsieh Chang-an, “Development of Physical Education in China,” The China Weekly Review 110:3 (June 19, 1948), p. 84. 40 Tang Mingxin, Woguo canjia guoji lanqiusai lishi (Taibei: Zhonghua quanguo lanqiu weiyuanhui, 1963), pp. 29–31. 41 “Woguo canjia Di shisi jie shijie yundong canzao shibai,” in Shuilibu saqi nian qiuji yundonghui tekan (Nanjing: Shuilibu, 1948), pp. 31–32. 42 Dong Shouyi, “Aolinpike yu Zhongguo” in Aoyunhui yu Zhongguo, ed. Ji Hongmin, Yu Xingmao, and Lü Changfu (Beijing: Wenshi ziliao chubanshe, 1985), pp. 35–36. 43 Yang Zhengyan, “Xin Zhongguo de di yi ci yundonghui,” Tiyu wenshi 9 (August 1984), pp. 24–25; “Zhonghua renmin gongheguo tiyu yundong dashiji,” Tiyu wenshi 9 (August 1984), p. 91. 44 See, for example, Fan Hong, Footbinding, Feminism, and Freedom: The Liberation of Women’s Bodies in Modern China (Portland, Oregon: Frank Cass, 1997). 45 China Handbook Editorial Committee (trans. Wen Botang), Sports and Public Health (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1983), pp. 48–49; Jonathan Kolatch, Sports, Politics, and Ideology in China (New York: Jonathan David Publishers, 1972), pp. 135–140. 46 Liu Chin-ping, “Zhonghua minguo Aolinpike weiyuanhui huiji yanbian zhi lishi kaocha, 1949–1981” (M.S. Thesis, Guoli Taiwan shifan daxue, 1995), pp. 29–30. “Why Are They So Far Ahead of Us?” 135

47 The PRC prefers to translate “Chinese Taipei” (also in other offi cial settings, like APEC, which have adopted the “Olympic model”) as “Zhongguo Taibei,” or literally, “China’s Taipei.” 48 Liu Chin-ping, “Zhonghua minguo Aolinpike weiyuanhui huiji yanbian zhi lishi kaocha, 1949–1981,” pp. 30–32; Dangdai Zhongguo tiyu (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 1984), pp. 402–404; Gu Bingfu (trans. Xin Yu), “China’s Participation in the Olympics (II),” China Sports 336 (September 1996), p. 7; Kolatch, Sport, Politics, and Ideology, pp. 171–173. 49 Liu Chin-ping, “Zhonghua minguo Aolinpike weiyuanhui huiji yanbian zhi lishi kaocha, 1949–1981,” pp. 38–39. 50 “C.K. Yang at the Rome Olympics,” March 9, 2001, http://www.sac.gov.tw/ en/sportstw/sportstw1.aspx?No=11 (accessed November 19, 2007). 51 Yang’s disappointing fi fth-place fi nish puzzled the sporting world, but he only learned of this plot in 1978 from a ROC intelligence agent. “Sports Legend Alleges Foul Play,” The China Post, April 5, 1997; Rafer Johnson with Philip Goldberg, The Best that I Can Be: An Autobiography (New York: Doubleday, 1998), p. 172. 52 Susan Brownell, Training the Body for China: Sports in the Moral Order of the People’s Republic (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), pp. 80–92. 53 “Qiumi xinxiang,” Lanqiu 100 (July 1996), p. 14; Wang Hai, “CBA de yi xie xijie,” Lanqiu 109 (April 1997), p. 9. 54 “Qiushi yao huo, waiyuan yao duo,” Lanqiu 118 (January 1998), p. 1. 55 “Qiumi leitai: CBA yinjin waiyuan li da yu bi,” Lanqiu 116 (November 1997), p. 17. 56 Sun Yuanyuan, “Lanqiu gaige ying fuhe guoqing,” Lanqiu 129 (December 1998), p. 37. 57 Hao Guohua, “‘Aiguo xiao’ chuyi,” Lanqiu 123 (June 1998), p. 12. 58 “Fans Turn Hostile after China’s Soccer Loss,” Reuters, August 8, 2004, http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fg-chinajapan8aug08, 1,4413122.story (accessed August 12, 2004); “Japan Spoils China’s Party,” Associated Press, August 9, 2004, http://www.taipeitimes.com/News/sport/a rchives/2004/08/09/2003198125 (accessed 12 August 12, 2004); Jim Yardley, “In Soccer Loss, A Glimpse of China’s Rising Ire at Japan,” New York Times, August 9, 2004, p. A3. 59 “China Apologizes to Japan after Minister’s Car Attacked,” Agence France- Presse, August 9, 2004, http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/afp_ asiapacifi c/view/99897/1/.html (accessed August 12, 2004). 60 Liu Rong, “Jianzai Taiwan zhi guang, Zhongguo qiang zhanguang,” Ziyou dianzibao, September 3, 2006, http://www.libertytimes.com.tw/2006/new/ sep/3/today-fo6.htm (accessed November 20, 2007). 61 Ronan Farrow and Mia Farrow, “The ‘Genocide Olympics,’” The Wall Street Journal, March 28, 2007, http://www.miafarrow.org/ed_032807.html (accessed November 28, 2007); David Bond, “IOC Defensive over China’s ‘Genocide Games,’” The Telegraph, April 26, 2007, http://www.telegraph. co.uk/sport/main.jhtml?xml=/sport/2007/04/26/sobond26.xml (accessed November 28, 2007). 136 The East Asian Olympiads

62 Free Tibet Campaign, “China in Tibet: A Gold Medal for Oppression,” July 13, 2001, http://www.freetibet.org/campaigns/olympics/archive010701. html (accessed January 28, 2008). 63 A similar dichotomy was discussed famously by Thomas L. Friedman in his piece “The Two Wangs,” New York Times, April 10, 2001, http://query. nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C00E3DC1F3EF933A25757C0A9679C 8B63 (accessed November 28, 2007). 64 Su Jiaxiang, “Aoyun lingyi: Liu Xiang shi Liu Changchun ‘zhuanshi’?” Yam News, January 23, 2008, http://news.yam.com/msnews/mkarticle.php?articl e=20080123000566 (accessed January 29, 2008). 9 The Olympic Games and China’s Search for Internationalization

Xu Guoqi

port, especially the Olympic Games, is a form of popular culture Swhich can offer us a fresh historical landscape to understand modern China, its foreign policy, and its relationship with the wider world. This chapter examines how the Olympic Games have become vehicles for expressing Chinese nationalism and internationalism. It will emphasize that sports in China not only serve as agents of social change, but they bring international recognition, political prestige, and a sense of legitimacy to the Chinese state. By examining the history of the Olympic Games in China, we will be able to understand how the Chinese, especially members of the elite, develop their understanding of nation, nationalism, internationalism, and national identity. More- over, the study of the modern Olympics in China can help us better understand the changes and continuities in modern China and provide a clear reference point for us to discern the shared experiences of China and the rest of the world.

* * * * *

Sports have had a long history in China. Some Chinese claim that soccer and golf, among other sports, originated in China a long time ago. But modern physical education obviously was an import from the West in the late nineteenth century which was fundamentally different from the ancient Chinese tiyu. The phrase tiyu consists of two Chinese characters ti, meaning body, and yu, meaning cultivation. In other words, tiyu can normally be translated as physical cultivation or physical culture or simply sports. But when the Chinese started to embrace modern sports from the West, tiyu acquired a signifi cant new meaning for many Chinese. It emphasized nation-strengthening: sports, for the Chinese, came to refl ect the national cry for renewal, equality among the nations of the world, and a desire to be recognized as a respected power. To put it 138 The East Asian Olympiads another way, modern sports became a vehicle in the Chinese search for national identity and internationalization. For these Chinese, tiyu not only conveyed a different sense of sports, as historian Thomas Bender claims, it also could be exploited in the forum of public culture, “where power in its various forms is elaborated and made authoritative.”1 Through this forum, the Chinese elite articulated Chinese nationalism, national identity, and even the meaning of being Chinese. The link of tiyu with nation-strengthening was clearly a new trend in modern China and provides a new angle for us to understand Chinese perceptions of themselves and their country’s status in the world. The advent of the fi rst modern Olympic Games in Athens in 1896 coincided with China’s search for internationalization and a new national identity. The Chinese in the 1890s, perhaps like the Americans in the same period, may have suffered from what Richard Hofstadter called a “psychic crisis,” although the background of the two countries’ respective shocks was fundamentally different.2 After its defeat in the First Sino-Japanese War in 1894–95, China fi nally awakened to the new international reality and many members of the Chinese elite concluded that China needed to join the world to survive as a nation.3 Coincidentally and interestingly, the elite’s search for a new national identity and ways to make China strong and rich again in the wake of the 1894–95 war coincided with the arrival of the Young Men’s Chris- tian Association’s (YMCA) fi rst representative D. W. Lyon in Tianjin in 1895 and that organization’s successful introduction of modern sports and modern Olympics to China. The new meaning of tiyu was obvious when the infl uential Chinese writer and politician Liang Qichao and others at the turn of the twentieth century started to use the phrase. For Liang and others, tiyu had more elements of a militarizing national spirit and militarizing physical training or shanwu than the normal meaning of sports.4 Here shanwu might be better translated as “fi ghting spirit” or “warlike spirit,” to use a phrase from Alfred Thayer Mahan, one of the leading theorists of American expansion in the late 1890s, who argued, “no greater danger could befall civilization than the disappearance of the warlike spirit (I dare say war) among civilized men.”5 Like Mahan, for Liang and others who were also infl uenced by Social Darwinism, sports, national identity, and national survival were closely interlinked. If China wanted to survive and even to be strong and rich again, its citizens needed the fi ghting spirit and must be prepared to defend themselves against foreign invasions. To train a nation’s youth for war, the state needed to encourage sports. In other words, the Chinese elite embraced modern sports primarily to save the nation. Tianjin’s infl uential newspaper Da gong bao expressed this point well. A 1920 editorial claimed that “to encourage physical training among the Chinese is essential in order to save the nation and strengthen the race.”6 Chen Dengke, a major advocate of sports for the nation (minzu tiyu) in the 1930s, argued that the essence of minzu tiyu was to encourage every citizen to engage in physical training and to militarize sports. Chen studied in Germany The Olympic Games and China’s Search for Internationalization 139 in the early 1930s and was an admirer of German militarized sports. He strongly suggested that the Chinese “should exercise for the state, exercise for the nation.”7 Chen Dengke’s arguments echoed with many similar-minded Chinese. Wang Zhengting wrote in 1930 on the signifi cance of the Olympic Games: “If a people wants to pursue freedom and equality in today’s world where the weak serve as meat on which the strong can dine, they fi rst must train strong and fi t bodies.”8 Deng Shouyi, an important sports offi cial and later an International Olympic Committee (IOC) member in China, insisted in 1934 that “Strong bodies were the foundation of the reconstruction of our nation.”9 In the 1930s, “training strong bodies for the nation” became a widespread slogan and even a guiding sports ideology. The Chinese embrace of the modern Olympic Games thus has to be understood from the perspective that sports, and especially the Olympic Games, offered an opportunity for promoting China’s international status. The fact that “Wo neng bi ya,” or “I can compete!” was once used as a Chinese translation of Olympia clearly refl ected China’s burning desire to be considered equal in the world.10 It is interesting to note that the Chinese view of sports, as based on shanwu, was similar to the American understanding of sports in the spirit of Social Darwinism. In her book Fighting for American Manhood, Kristin Hoganson has brilliantly demonstrated that there was a clear link between American national consciousness and national manliness, between American national character and sports, and between warlike spirit and empire. For Hoganson, nations have always stressed manliness as a way to survive and compete in the modern world, and sport was one way to cultivate manliness. Henry Cabot Lodge, an infl u- ential American politician at the turn of the twentieth century, clearly linked sports with nation building. He even exhorted Harvard Univer- sity, his alma mater, to bolster its athletic program. “The time given to athletic contests and the injuries incurred on the playing-fi eld are part of the price which the English-speaking race has paid for being world- conquerors,” he said.11 Theodore Roosevelt, who served as American president from 1901 to 1908, was a fi rm believer that men and nations could build themselves through strenuous endeavor. “Greatness means strife for nation and man alike,” he declared.12 Roosevelt despised the men and nations that lacked strenuous character: “We respect the man who goes out to do a man’s work, to front diffi culties and overcome them, and to train up his children to do likewise.” “So it is with the nation,” he continued. “To decline to do our duty is simply to sink as China has sunk.”13 Roosevelt proclaimed that “all the great masterful races have been [strenuous] fi ghting races, and the minute a race loses the hard fi ghting virtues,” it loses its “proud right to stand as the equal of the best.”14 American Senator Albert Beveridge claimed that China’s degeneration came from its lack of warlike spirit and complacency: “There was a time when China was heroic, masterful, consolidated, militant, devotional.”15 The ideas of these American leaders were not unique. As a matter of fact, in American history, discussions about 140 The East Asian Olympiads physical fi tness and national preparedness had, according to sports historian S.W. Pope, “a profound infl uence on the American sporting culture.”16 American general Palmer E. Pierce concluded that “history shows that a healthy state requires a healthy citizenry”; just as soon as “the inhabitants of a country begin to degenerate physically,” he observed, “decay sets in all around and the existence of the state is endangered.”17 The Duke of Wellington might have agreed. He believed that the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fi elds of Eton.18 The above statements were strikingly similar to the expressions of the Chinese elite during the same period. This shared understanding between the Chinese elite and Westerners, especially Americans, about the nature of sports clearly suggests the profound signifi cance of modern sports in promoting China’s internationalization, including its interest in the modern Olympics which were themselves spawned by internationalization as well as nationalism. Indeed, the Olympics have been described as “war without shooting.”19 This conception of the Olympics obviously attracted the Chinese elite that linked sports with the warlike spirit. But Chinese interest in the Games had more to do with its desire for internationalization. Although we still don’t know the date of the earliest contact between China and the International Olympic Committee, we know that in 1907, Zhang Boling, the future president of Nankai University, expressed hope that China could send teams to the Olympic Games.20 In 1908 a YMCA journal article in Tianjin asked three interesting questions: when could China send an athlete to the Games; when could China send a team to the Games; and when could China host the Games?

* * * * *

The Olympics clearly symbolize internationalization. The Olympic ﬂ ag with interlocking Olympic rings of differing colors on a white background represents ﬁ ve continents of the world, and their colors of blue, yellow, black, green, and red against a white background symbolize the colors of all nations. But sports, especially the Olympic Games, also include obvious elements of nationalism. As a matter of fact, when the founding father of the modern Olym- pics, Pierre de Coubertin, was conceiving the modern Olympic Games with help from many others, his original motives “were a mixture of nationalism and internationalism.”21 According to David C. Young, Coubertin’s interest in physical education, sports, and even the Olym- pics “was rooted in patriotism.” He believed “that France had lost the Franco-Prussian War because of the physical degeneracy of the young men in the French army”; on the other hand, he thought that “the superior physical training the youth in the German army received in their schools put them at a great military advantage.”22 Coubertin became convinced “that patriotism and internationalism were not only not incompatible, but required each other.”23 The Olympics, to use Richard The Olympic Games and China’s Search for Internationalization 141

Espy’s words, embody all three forces of nationalism, internationalism, and trans-nationalism.24 Moreover, individual states’ responses to sports, as well as the people’s emotions when their national fl ag is raised and their national anthem is played to the winner, represent classic nationalism. Here China is no exception. For a country like China, where sport has been controlled by the state and used for political purposes only, it has often become a useful tool for politics and national presentation. William Safi re, the New York Times columnist, once wrote, “To Americans, politics is sport; to Asians, sport is politics.”25 This is especially true for the Chinese. Furthermore, although sports, especially the Olympics, played an important role in China’s internationalization in modern times, Chinese interest in sports and the Olympic Games, to a great extent, was not for the love of the games and sports but an expression of the Chinese desire to be rich and strong, to show the world they were the equal of others; they especially wanted to get rid of the label of China as the “Sick Man of East Asia.” There is a very clear line con- necting sports and Chinese nationalism: for many among the Chinese elite, embracing modern sports primarily served as a useful tool for nationalism. Although the Chinese wondered aloud when a Chinese team would attend the Olympic Games in 1907, they had to wait for a long time until 1932—when China sent an athlete, Liu Changchun, to the Los Angeles Olympic Games—to realize the dream. The appearance of this one-man team was largely due to China’s motivation for internationalization. Prior to the Los Angeles Olympic Games, China’s offi cial sports body in late May 1932 decided not to participate in the Games due to lack of funding. Like what they did in 1928, the Chinese initially considered sending only Shen Siliang, a sport offi cial, as a spectator to the Los Angeles Games. The Chinese sports organization even had to sponsor Shen’s travel since the national government, according to Shen’s own claim, refused to provide any fi nancial support.26 But what happened with Japan changed everything. For the 1932 Los Angeles Games, Japan contributed the second largest delegation after its host the United States. These Games gave Japan, according to Tetsu Nakamura, “an opportunity to recover its lost national dignity and improve its international relations” after the worldwide criticism of Japan’s invasion of China in 1931. One Japanese diplomat then even claimed that the games “help to sweep away some of the bad feelings toward Japan since the Manchurian Incident and have a favorable infl uence upon friendly relations between Japan and America.”27 More importantly, the Japanese had planned to use the Games to legitimize the existence of Manzhouguo (Manchukuo), the puppet state established by the Japanese after they occupied China’s Northeast provinces, by announcing that the puppet state would send a team to the Games. Many Chinese were outraged at the Japanese diplomatic ploy to use sports to gain legitimacy for their invasion. They challenged the Nanjing government to take action. Zhang Xueliang, the warlord of 142 The East Asian Olympiads

Manchuria, decided to donate 8,000 yuan to send Liu Changchun and Yu Xiwei, two of China’s top sprinters, to the Games, while other Chi- nese raised funds for them as well. Yu did not go because of a Japanese threat and informal house arrest. Beiping (Beijing) Mayor Zhou Dawen presented Liu with a new suit and Liu eventually became the only athlete representing China in the Los Angeles Games. Before Liu left for Los Angeles, China’s national sports organization’s president Wang Zhengting presented Liu with the Chinese national fl ag at a ceremony. Wang told him that this was the fi rst time for the Chinese to take part in the Olympic Games. Its symbolism and signifi cance were enormous. Wang encouraged Liu to do well in Los Angeles and told him it was a great honor for Liu when he raised the national fl ag of Republican China among the fl ags of the other nations.28 Although Liu did not win any medals in Los Angeles, his appearance at the Games was important for the Olympics and for the Chinese people. It was the fi rst time that China took part in the Games and joined the international community to compete on the same Olympic platform. As Hao Gengshen and other top sports offi cials in China had pointed out, a Chinese Olympic appearance was necessary for China to maintain a respectable position in the world and to offset the effects of Japan’s scheme to send a team there in the name of Manzhouguo.29 As one Chinese wrote then:

This was our nation’s fi rst time participating [in the Olympics] and being listed as one of the fi fty nations. The fl ag of the white sun on the blue sky fl uttered over the Coliseum alongside the fl ags of the world’s nations for the fi rst time. This has profound signifi cance for our nation. . . . On 31 July, when Liu Changchun ran his one-hundred-meter heat, the audience responded with a startlingly intense welcome and with applause that roared like thunder. . . . The fact that our nation’s participation could leave the spectators with this kind of impression is very satisfying.30

By taking part in the 1932 Olympics, China wanted to show the world a new face, a new identity, solidarity with other weak countries, and demonstrate its ambition as a player in the world and its resistance to Japanese invasion. China’s presence at the 1932 Games perhaps represents the Olympic spirit best. As Coubertin argued, “The important thing in the Olympic Games is not winning but taking part.”31 If China’s fi rst participation in the Games had quite interesting twists and turns, China’s fi rst winning delegation to the Summer Olympic Games was also full of contradictions and paradoxes. China did not win any gold medals at the Olympics until 1984. In the 1984 Los Angeles Olympic Games, when Chinese shooter Xu Haifeng won the fi rst gold medal for the Chinese in the Olympics, the Chinese people were very excited and called his victory “just the beginning for the Chinese who suffered enormously in the past to prove themselves to the world.”32 Victories in sports thus clearly suggest the importance of The Olympic Games and China’s Search for Internationalization 143 sports for China’s national fate, national honor, and the overcoming of national humiliation. Of course, many countries have used sports to promote nationalism. For instance, in the 1984 Los Angeles Games, a combination of nationalism and anti-Soviet propaganda was expressed by Americans. “Spectators found an offi cial ‘Olympic Cheering Card’ inside their program. The letters ‘USA’ appeared on the placard in red, white, and blue, and fans were instructed to ‘show your colors with pride’ by waving the card ‘proudly for all the world to see. ’” As one author commented, “it was of little concern to Olympic sponsors if some spectators did not happen to be Americans or did not plan to root incessantly for the home team.”33 According to Bill Shaikin, among the most common complaints about the Los Angeles Games were the “excessive displays of U.S. nationalism. ”34 But the Chinese can sometimes prove even more extreme. Sports obviously refl ect Chinese national character. Through sports, we can understand, in a new light, Chinese self-perception and China’s relationship with outside world. The recent Chinese obsession with their sports power is another case in point. From the 1980s on, when China adopted an open door policy, its economy started to take off, and the regime was eager to enhance its international status, sports once again became an important tool for an all-out campaign for international prestige, status, and legitimacy. These motives soon inspired the post- Mao Chinese leaders to coin a new sports slogan in 1980: “Break out of Asia, advance on the world.” This new slogan became a driving force for China’s participation in world sports just as China found new self- confi dence with a fast-growing economy. In order to make China a sports power, China’s National Sports Commission in 1979 came out with a so-called “Olympic Model” and instructed each provincial sports organization to aim for Olympic medals.35 Starting with the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, China had developed a well-designed “Olympic strategy” and mobilized the whole nation’s support to make sure China would win as many Olympic medals as possible.36 By 1984, China had accomplished two of the three items in its to-do list announced in early twentieth century by not only attending the Games but also by winning there. The last wish was to host the Games, but it would take them a long time to turn that wish into a reality. After Mao’s death and the economic prosperity of the 1980s, Chinese leaders thought the time was right for China to host the Games; they wanted to use the Olympics to enter the family of nations as an equal and respected member. In other words, the obsession with the Olympics was really an obsession with international prestige, Chinese national pride, and overcoming historical frustrations. And, appropriately, it was China’s paramount leader Deng Xiaoping who led the way. In early 1985 he told a foreign leader that Beijing was prepared to host the Olympic Games in 2000. From that time on, top Chinese leaders were obsessed with the Olympics. On September 22, 1990, then Chinese president Yang Shangkun informed the IOC that China hoped “to host the 2000 Olympic Games.” On February 28, 1991, Premier Li 144 The East Asian Olympiads

Peng approved a joint report from the National Sports Commission, the Foreign Ministry, the Ministry of the Treasury, and the Beijing municipal government for Beijing’s bid for the 2000 Olympic Games. On December 3, 1992, Deputy Mayor of Beijing Zhang Bofa personally delivered the application to IOC headquarters in Switzerland. Because of the clear link between sports events and its national pride, its worldview, its status in the world, and its national identity, China’s nationwide response to Beijing’s bid to host the Olympics is quite an interesting phenomenon. For the Chinese, the Olympics are not simply a sports event, but represent something deep and fundamental. As the New York Times reported, “winning the Olympic bid is much more than a matter of civic or even national pride.” As host to the Games, “China believes it will stand as a respected member of the world community, a position it has long felt the West has denied it.”37 The Chinese see hosting the Olympics as a validation of their nation’s long road to international acceptance, a sign that China has overcome its “century of humiliation and shame” and become a full member of the community of nations. China wanted to use the Olympics to mark its emergence as a world power. Indeed, when Beijing lost its fi rst bid in 1993 by only a two vote margin to Sydney for hosting the 2000 Sum- mer Games, Chinese urban youth and intellectuals, among others, felt the West had treated it as a third-rate country and conspired to keep it from taking its rightful place on the world stage. Some Chinese even linked the loss to a clash of civilizations. Accordingly, when Beijing was successful in its bid for the 2008 Summer Games, people all over China welcomed it as a giant step toward recognition as an equal member of the world community. They were overjoyed. The night of July 13, 2001 (the day the selection was announced) was, as a People’s Daily editorial the next day called it, “a sleepless night for all 1.3 billion Chinese.” According to New York Times reports the next day, many in Beijing celebrated the happy news with the national anthem, which revealingly begins, “Qilai, bu yao zuo nuli de renmen” (“Rise up, people who do not want to be slaves”). The Xin Hua News Agency’s editorial claimed that Beijing’s successful bid was “a milestone” in the rise of China’s international status; it was “a signifi cant event in China’s great renewal.” According to the same editorial, the bid for hosting the Olympic Games “is a competition based on a country’s image and its international prestige.” “The country that wins the bid has won respect, trust and confi dence.” There- fore, when Beijing won, it also meant that China had won.38 Chinese exuberance at hosting the Olympics clearly demonstrates the depth and signifi cance of the Chinese passion for international status and asserting their national pride and the importance of sport in China’s internationalization. To be sure, many countries have used the Olympic Games for internationalization and international prestige. The Berlin Games in 1936 symbolized the rise of Hitler’s Germany, while the 1964 Tokyo Games and the 1988 Seoul Games represented the emergence of renewed The Olympic Games and China’s Search for Internationalization 145

Japanese power and South Korea’s political reforms and new status, respectively, to cite only three examples. For the South Koreans, the 1988 Seoul Olympic Games was their ticket to international recognition and membership in the family of nations.39 “From the South Korean perspective, the successful bid for the Games was an important step in trying to regain some degree of political stability and to establish international conﬁ dence in South Korea.”40 The slogan for the 1988 Seoul Games was thus revealing: to bring “the world to Seoul” and “Seoul to the world.”41 For the Japanese, the 1964 Tokyo Games symbolized full participation in the postwar international community. From this perspective, we can understand that Beijing’s linking the Games with its international status is not unique at all, but rather a shared experience with other countries.

* * * * *

China’s use of Olympics for internationalization is revealed well by considering the issue of Beijing and Taipei’s national representation in the family of the Olympic Movement. The year 1949 was supposed to be a turning point in Chinese history: the Chinese Com- munists had come to power and sent the Nationalists packing. From the perspective of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), the Repub- lic of China ceased to exist when the Communist government took over the mainland; Taiwan was merely a renegade province, which did not belong to the international sport federations and Olympic family. Beijing’s principal interest in the Olympic Games and Olym- pic Movement was to seek legitimacy in the world arena when the Nationalist government on Taiwan was widely recognized by Western countries. The problem for Beijing was that Taiwan seemed to remain a member in the Olympic family as the “Republic of China” while the PRC’s membership was not certain. But the PRC soon decided to take part in the 1952 Helsinki Games to announce to the world the existence of a new regime in China. Although the IOC did not invite Beijing to attend the Helsinki Olympiad until two days before the opening ceremony, Beijing sent a team anyway. Beijing was so late that it missed nearly all competitions. But for Zhou Enlai, China’s premier and foreign minister, “Raising the ﬁ ve-starred red [PRC] ﬂ ag at the Olympic Games is in itself the victory.” To be late was not Beijing’s fault.42 Chinese Nationalists under Jiang Jieshi on Taiwan performed as brilliantly as their communist counterparts in using sports for scoring diplomatic points. In the 1960 Rome Olympic Games, Taiwan was forced to participate only under the name of Formosa, but the Nationalist regime was determined to attend in order to make sure the world noticed its presence. However, the Nationalists also wanted the world to know they were unhappy with the name imposed on them. The team marched at the opening ceremony, but behind a sign marked “UNDER PROTEST.” 146 The East Asian Olympiads

Due to the fact that the two regimes used the Olympics for fi ghting for international legitimacy and the right to represent China in the world arena, it has become a well-known story that both Beijing and Taipei used sports for consolidating their political legitimacy in the world. For many years, the IOC was plagued with the “two Chinas” problem, which caused Beijing’s withdraw from the international Olympic Movement in 1958. Since then, the two Chinas problem has been so serious that the IOC Chancellor Otto Mayer complained, “The quarrel of the ‘two Chinas’ has been, from 1954 on, the main burden of Olympism.”43 The two Chinas even became an international political issue and led the American government to ponder whether it should boycott the 1976 Montreal Olympic Games. Even though the United States and Canada had been close allies, when the Canadian government refused to allow athletes from Taiwan to attend the Games using the name of the Republic of China, since it recognized the PRC and regarded Taiwan as part of China, the American government was outraged. It openly discussed the possibility of boycotting the Games if the Canadian government did not change its policy on the naming of the Taiwan team. Both the United States and Canada refused to back down. Eventually it was Taiwan that helped them overcome this most diffi cult diplomatic tangle between North America’s two neighbors by deciding not to turn the issue into a major diplomatic showdown by walking out of the Games through its own choice. Although the Montreal Games went on, it is clear that the parties involved did not hesitate to use the Olympics to settle diplomatic scores. In October 1979 in Nagoya, Japan, the IOC was forced to pass a historical resolution on Taiwan since the two Chinas debate threatened to strangle the Olympic movement and the Games if the situation was allowed to continue. Taiwan’s NOC name would be Chinese Taipei Olympic Committee and it could not use its national fl ag, anthem, or emblem, while any new ones must be approved by the IOC’s executive board. Its constitution also had to be amended in conformity with IOC rules by January 1, 1980.44 With this new condition, Taiwan’s status as a national Olympic committee would in all respects be fully maintained and respected.45 Taiwan, of course, was not happy with the conditions imposed on it for participation in the Games. However, being present—under whatever name—conferred a sense of legitimacy that seemed increasingly to be eroding in other world forums. As Richard W. Pound, a senior IOC offi cial, pointed out to the Taiwanese, the Olympic Games “provide an unequaled opportunity for promotion of the host country and a showcase for its people, culture, industry, tourism, and virtually everything about it.”46 It was in Taiwan’s best interest to stay in the Games even though it had to accept the new conditions, which it eventually did. Since then, although Taiwan and Beijing have continued to be political rivals, their athletes have competed in the Games together. Unlike the old zero-sum-game perspective, the eventual solution has proved a win-win situation. It might even be possible that the The Olympic Games and China’s Search for Internationalization 147 hard-won IOC model could be used as a basis for future political relations between Beijing and Taiwan. It is important to point out that the fi nal solution of the two Chinas issue in the IOC and in other international sports federations refl ected Deng Xiaoping’s idea of “one country-two systems.” Many people know Deng used this idea to deal with Hong Kong’s return from British colonial control, but few realize that the idea was fi rst applied in solving the Olympic dispute over the Taiwan issue. More importantly, with pragmatic attitudes on both sides of the straits and by avoiding the mistakes of the past, Chinese in the PRC and Taiwan have been able to both take part in the Olympics and other international sporting events together. The Taiwan formula has also served as a model for dealing with Hong Kong after Hong Kong was repatriated. Hong Kong was fi rst accepted as a member of the Olympic family in 1950, when it was still a British colony. With Beijing’s blessing, Hong Kong kept its membership in the Olympic movement; on July 3, 1997, two days after the colony’s return, Hong Kong and the IOC signed an agreement which declared, “It is the common aim to enable the people of Hong Kong to continue taking part in the Olympic Games and generally in sports competitions everywhere as a separate and independent entity.” In the new arrangement, Hong Kong’s Olympic committee would add “China” to “Hong Kong” in its committee designation in accordance with the Basic Law; Hong Kong teams would fl y the S.A.R. (Special Administrative Region) fl ag at all times. The Chinese national anthem would be played on offi cial occasions such as the fl ag-raising and victory ceremonies. According to the agreement, the initials “HKG” would be maintained and the team’s emblem would feature the fl ower Bauhinia with the Five Rings and the Chinese characters “Zhongguo Hong Kong” all within a circle followed by “Hong Kong” with “CHINA” underneath.47 Thus it is clear that the Olympic movement has played an important role in bringing the Chinese on the mainland, in Taiwan, and in Hong Kong together to take part in the Games under the same rules and standards.

* * * * *

China has experienced many changes in the twentieth century politically, diplomatically, and economically. However, continuities exist. One clear example of continuity is reﬂ ected in the Chinese attitude toward sports. From the late nineteenth century until today and perhaps into the near future, their conception of sports as closely related to China’s internationalization has been strikingly consistent. China’s participation and even interest in modern sports was largely motivated by nationalism. However, by importing modern sports from the West and by taking part in world competitions, China has used sports to engage with the rest of the world and as diplomatic tools to express its worldview, its status in the world, and its national identity. China’s 148 The East Asian Olympiads experience in the Olympic Movement has also been strongly inﬂ uenced by internationalization, as its history in the Games has been marked by extensive shared experiences with the other nations of the sporting world.

NOTES 1 Thomas Bender, “Wholes and Parts: The Need for Synthesis in American History,” Journal of American History 73:1 (June 1986). 2 For details on this, see Richard Hofstadter, The Paranoid Style in American Politics (New York: Vintage Books, 1967). 3 For a detailed analysis on the impact of the war of 1894–95 on the Chinese mindset, see Xu Guoqi, China and the Great War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), pp. 19–48. 4 For details on this point, see Xu Guoqi, Olympic Dreams: China and Sports, 1895–2008 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2008), pp. 21–31. 5 Kristin L. Hoganson, Fighting for American Manhood: How Gender Politics Provoked the Spanish-American and Philippine-American Wars (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), p. 36. 6 Lu Mu, ed., Tiyu Jie de yi mian qi zhi Ma Yuehan jiao shou (Ma Yuehan as a Flag Bearer in Chinese Sports) (Beijing: Beijing tiyu daxue chubanshe, 1999), p. 52. 7 Gu Shiquan, Zhong guo tiyu shi (The History of Sport in China) (Beijing: Beijing tiyu daxue chubanshe, 2002), p. 255. 8 Andrew Morris, Marrow of the Nation: A History of Sport and Physical Culture in Republican China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), p. 167. 9 Quote from Fan Hong (with slight changes of the original wording), “Blue Shirts, Nationalists and Nationalism: Fascism in 1930s China,” in Superman Supreme: Fascist Body as Political Icon – Global Fascism, ed. J. A. Mangan (London: Frank Cass, 2000), p. 217. 10 Song Ruhai, Wo Neng Bi Ya: Shijie yundonghui conglu (Records of the World Sports Games) (Shanghai: 1930). 11 Hoganson, Fighting for American Manhood, p. 37. 12 Hoganson, Fighting for American Manhood, p. 144. 13 Hoganson, Fighting for American Manhood, p. 145. 14 Quote from S. W. Pope, Patriotic Games: Sporting Traditions in the American Imagination, 1876–1926 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), p. 123. 15 Hoganson, Fighting for American Manhood, p. 146. 16 Pope, Patriotic Games, p. 121. 17 Pope, Patriotic Games, p. 127. 18 Dale Russakoff, “Team Rice, Playing Away,” The Washington Post, February 6, 2005, p. D1. 19 George Orwell, Shooting an Elephant and Other Essays (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1950), p. 153. 20 Xu, Olympic Dreams, pp. 27–29. 21 Allen Guttmann, The Games Must Go On: Avery Brundage and the Olympic Movement (New York: Columbia University Press, 1984), p. 12. 22 David C. Young, The Modern Olympics: A Struggle for Revival (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), p. 68. The Olympic Games and China’s Search for Internationalization 149

23 John Hoberman, “Toward a Theory of Olympic Internationalism,” Journal of Sport History 22:1 (1995), p. 15. 24 Richard Espy, Politics of the Olympic Games (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979), pp. 12–18. 25 William Saﬁ re, “Games Asians play,” The New York Times, September 20, 1990, p. A21. 26 Xu, Olympic Dreams, p. 40. 27 Tetsuo Nakamura, “Japan: The Future in the Past” in The Nazi Olympics: Sport, Politics, and Appeasement in the 1930s, ed. Arnd Krüger and William Murray (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2003), p. 131. 28 Xu, Olympic Dreams, pp. 41–42. 29 The American government refused to recognize Manzhouguo and the Los Angeles Organizing Committee and the IOC eventually did not invite Manzhouguo to attend the Games. 30 Morris, Marrow of the Nation, p. 171. 31 Young, The Modern Olympics, p. 112. 32 Xu, Olympic Dreams, p. 203. 33 Bill Shaikin, Sport and Politics: The Olympics and the Los Angeles Games (New York: Praeger, 1988), p. 62. 34 Shaikin, Sport and Politics, p. 62. 35 Zhong guo tiyu fa zhan zhan lue yan jiu hui, ed., 1987 nian quan guo tiyu fa zhan zhan lue lun wen xuan (Selected Papers on Strategies Used in Chinese Sports in 1987) (Beijing: Beijing tiyu xueyuan chubanshe, 1988), p. 4. 36 Zhong guo tiyu fa zhan zhan lue yan jiu hui, ed., 1987 nian quan guo tiyu fa zhan zhan lue lun wen xuan, p. 2. 37 Craig S. Smith, “Joyous Vindication and a Sleepless Night,” The New York Times, July 14, 2001. 38 Tone Le, ed. Meng xiang yu hui huang: Beijing 2008 ao yun hui shen ban ji shi yu chang xiang (Dream and Glory: Reports on Beijing’s Bid for the Olympic Games) (Beijing: Min zu yu jian she chubanshe, 2001), pp. 1–2. 39 Richard Pound, Five Rings over Korea: The Secret Negotiations Behind the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1994), p. 322. 40 Pound, Five Rings over Korea, p. 48. 41 J.F. Larson and H.-S. Park, Global Television and the Politics of the Seoul Olympics (Boulder, CO: Westview Press), 1993. 42 Hua Zhi, Su Yuan - Dong Shouyi zhuan (Biography of Dong Shouyi) (Beijing: Renmin tiyu chubanshe, 1993), pp. 118–119. 43 Guttmann, The Games Must Go On, p. 145. 44 IOC archives, Lausanne, Switzerland: Minutes of the IOC executive board meeting, Nagoya, Japan, October 23–25, 1979. 45 Pound, Five Rings over Korea, p. 42. 46 Pound, Five Rings over Korea, p. 4. 47 IOC archives, Lausanne, Switzerland, The IOC executive board meeting minutes, Lausanne, September 3–6, 1997. 10 Uneven Political Reform and Development in the Shadow of the Beijing Olympic Games

John James Kennedy

INTRODUCTION he 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing was a remarkable T achievement in sports and enhanced the international stature of China after a “century of humiliation.” Once referred to as the “sick man of Asia,” China is now a major player on the international stage with one of the world’s fastest growing economies. In fact, the pace of economic growth has brought millions out of poverty and increased the standard of living for most Chinese over the last three decades. At the same time, the Olympics has also brought greater attention to how the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is managing the rapid pace of economic development and the growing gap between rich and poor. This gap reaches far beyond income to include deep disparities in housing opportunities and social welfare beneﬁ ts. It has also been a source of mounting dissatisfaction and social tension. Indeed, since the early 1980s, the number of social disturbances directed towards local authorities has been growing as fast as the economy.1 Most of these disturbances are a result of citizen dissatisfaction with local governments and corruption such as misappropriation of urban workers’ pensions, breaking land lease contracts with farmers, and minimum compensation for housing and relocation due to urban construction. While social protests do not threaten the central leadership, these disturbances are nevertheless a very real concern for the central authorities who have taken several policy steps to avoid and manage social instability (luan). The CCP adopted repressive policies as well as political reforms that increase citizen’s rights to deal with social dissatisfaction and unrest in the months and years before the Olympics. Uneven Political Reform 151

The two policies of repression and reform are directly related to social stability and popular support for the central party-government. This is a key point. The main concern for the central leadership is to maintain (rather than gain) public support for the single party regime. Over the last ten years public opinion surveys refl ect a high level of public support for the central party-government. Since Chinese and foreign researchers began conducting reliable opinion surveys in China, no matter who carried out the survey or how the question was phrased, popular support remains high, typically about 80 percent of the respondents.2 This public support for the national leadership was the highest in the months just before the Olympics. Indeed, there was tremendous national pride and optimism for the Olympics. According to a May 2008 Pew Research Center survey, 96 percent of the respondents believed the Olympics would be a success and 93 percent of the respondents thought the Olympics were a positive boost to China’s international image.3 Therefore, the central leadership does not need to gain public support, but they must maintain it. That is, the CCP went into the Olym- pics with a high level of public support and the only thing they could do was lose it. Currently, popular support for the regime is based on social stability.4 The national leadership has repeatedly inferred that without the central authority of the CCP the country would break down into social chaos. This fear of instability is used to justify single party rule as well as the restrictions on social and non-government (non-party) organizations. However, reports of increasing social unrest, such as unlawful protests and riots, even those not directed at the central government, can erode this justifi cation and popular support. Central policies that refl ect political reform and repression all develop in relation to maintaining social stability and public support, especially under the shadow of the Summer Olympic Games. However, these policies are unevenly implemented. Even in Beijing, the laws that allow citizens to petition government offi ces and to take legal action against local authorities are, at times, only partially executed. While policing measures can be severe, they are also unevenly applied. More- over, there is an interaction between political reforms and repression. For every set of reforms that provide citizens legal protection from abu- sive local authorities or permit greater autonomy and freedom for some media outlets, there are also repressive measures that include arresting outspoken lawyers and limiting citizen rights. Typically, every time the national leadership takes two steps forward with political reforms, they tend to take one step backwards with repressive measures to deal with perceived threats to social stability. The Beijing Olympics provides the international community with a snapshot of China and how well the central party-government is dealing with rapid economic growth. Given the political and economic environment leading up to the Olympics (i.e. uneven economic development, political reforms, and repression), what has the Beijing Summer Olympics revealed to the international community? Is it showing the 152 The East Asian Olympiads world a new economically developed China with slow but continuous political reforms? This suggests an increase in civil liberties and freedoms in some spheres of society, but more restrictive policies in other realms. Or do the Beijing Olympics reveal a more repressive regime that is experiencing rapid economic growth with a growing gap between rich and poor? This implies greater social stratifi cation as well as severely limited and restricted civil liberties. Moreover, in preparation for the Olym- pics, the central leadership has dramatically slowed the pace of political reforms inside and outside of Beijing. There is ample evidence to support each claim of greater reforms or repression. Taken out of context, the evidence can show that China has either an extremely repressive central leadership or a democratizing authoritarian regime. These two depictions of China are at odds and present a contradiction. However, contradictions are a part of China. The combination of reform and repression refl ects two steps forward and one step back rather than an all or nothing approach (i.e. completely repressive or democratizing). This chapter will address both questions and show how uneven economic development has spurred uneven political reform. The fi rst section examines the rapid development in Beijing including rising incomes, consumerism, and the ownership of private cars. The second part of the chapter addresses some of the problems associated with uneven economic development in Beijing before the Olympics, including income inequalities and the relocation of poorer residents from Olympic venues and the city center. Although there have been attempts to cover up unbalanced development in Beijing before the Olympics, the unequal employment and housing opportunities are apparent. The third section looks at political reforms and central leadership attempts at providing legal outlets to deal with citizen grievances. These reforms include political and legal rights, such as petitioning higher authorities and allowing citizens to sue local government offi cials. Indeed, every year a growing number of rural and urban activists use the legal system to address their dissatisfaction. The fourth part explores uneven implementation and even reversal of these political reforms leading up to the Summer Olympics. Repressive measures included arresting activists and lawyers as well as severe limitations of citizen rights. The chapter will conclude with some fi nal thoughts on post-Olympics developments.

RAPID ECONOMIC GROWTH While the Chinese economy has been developing at a rapid pace since 1992, this growth has created a gap between economic winners and losers, both inside and outside of Beijing. On one extreme are the new urban rich. These are educated and well-connected individuals, such as factory owners, fi nanciers, and international traders, who have been able to take full advantage of economic reforms, especially after 2001 when China joined the World Trade Organization. At the other end of the social spectrum in Beijing are unskilled urban workers who are still dependent on low wage factory work or have been laid-off. These Uneven Political Reform 153 people typically live in the older working-class neighborhoods that are targeted for demolition to make way for new construction and high rises. While some families are relocated into nicer apartments, other inner-city Beijing residents have been relocated to less convenient and sometimes lower quality housing in the suburbs. The lower end of the income scale includes rural migrant workers who make up the majority of manual labor needed for massive urban construction projects such as the Beijing Olympic Village. While the living standards and income for many of these rural laborers are lower than some of the poorest Beijing residents, most rural migrants make much more money working in the city than on the farm. In fact, the massive rural to urban migration refl ects the uneven pace of economic growth between cities and villages, especially outside Beijing. The towering architectural achievements and high-end services in Beijing are a testament to the new wealth and propriety for a segment of society. In 1988, the items that refl ected a better life were refrigera- tors, television sets, and new bicycles. In 2008, the measure of success is a private car, a high-rise apartment, and brand name luxury items. In the 1980s, only foreigners and high government offi cials were seen in the lobbies of fi ve-star hotels and fancy department stores. Currently, most of the customers in fi ve-star hotels and the many expensive restaurants are Chinese. A number of new stores and shopping malls have also been built that cater to the new social elite. For example, the Beijing Oriental Plaza (dongfang guangchang) in the center of the city is 100,000 square meters, or about eighteen American football fi elds. The Plaza boosts some of the most high-end stores in Beijing, such as Armani, Tiffany, and Rolex. Luxury cars are also in demand for the new rich in China. In 2008, Mercedes Benz had twenty-nine dealerships throughout China from Harbin in the far northeast to Kunming in the far south and Urumqi in the far west. The price for a Mercedes at the Beijing dealership ranges from 930,000 yuan ($136,000) to 2,598,000 yuan ($382,000). Although there is only a small percentage of individuals who can afford these kinds of foreign extravagances, for the foreign companies, a small percentage of 1.3 billion people is still worth the investment in China. While most Beijing residents cannot afford a Mercedes, an increasing number of residents are buying private cars. This is due to the astonishing rise in income for the richest 20 percent of Beijing residents in the years leading up to the Olympics. The average family income of the richest 20 percent has tripled between 1997 and 2007, while the poorest 20 percent has barely doubled during the same time period (see Figure 1). Moreover, in 2007, the average income of the richest 20 percent is four times that of the poorest 20 percent. The symbol of affl uence and “making it” in modern Beijing is the ownership of a private car. As soon as a family is able to afford a car, they immediately buy one. In Figure 2, the increase in private cars in Beijing follows the same meteoric rise as the income for the richest 20 percent. In 2003, Beijing had 1.6 million private cars for a population of 15 million residents. 154 The East Asian Olympiads

Source: Beijing Statistical Abstracts 1991 to 2008, data accessed through the University of Michigan China Data Center, China Data Online, http://chinadataonline.org/.

Source: Beijing Statistical Abstracts 1998 to 2008, data accessed through the University of Michigan China Data Center, China Data Online, http://chinadataonline.org/.

In 2008, the number of private motor vehicles doubled to 3.2 million for a population of 16 million residents. The private ownership of cars has created serious problems with pollution, traffi c congestion, and parking, but the uneven economic reforms have also contributed to limiting car ownership and overwhelming the streets of Beijing, especially before the Summer Games. The richest 20 percent of Beijing residents make up about 3.2 million Uneven Political Reform 155 and as incomes increase so does the number of cars on the road. An increase in economic growth and consumption is good for the CCP because rising incomes are closely associated with support for the central leadership.5 This situation can also put the central leadership in a bind because central policies that restrain growth, such as limiting the number of cars on the road to reduce traffi c and pollution, can erode popular support for the regime. The Beijing municipal government and non-government researchers published several reports on the problems associated with the rising number of cars on Beijing streets and alleyways, and in response the municipal government built more ring roads. Rather than slow down car sales in Beijing, the government created traffi c restrictions such as odd and even days, a system in which automobiles with odd numbered license plates would stay off the road on alternate days for the Olympics. While the number of cars on the Beijing streets continued to increase, the odd and even days were effective in signifi cantly reducing traffi c on the streets as well as improving air quality.6 According to one scientifi c study, “the comparison between the predicted street concentrations before and during the Olympic traffi c control period shows that the overall on-road air quality was dramatically improved, due to the 32.3% traffi c fl ow reduction.”7 This was so successful that the Beijing government maintained a watered-down version of the Olympic traffi c restrictions after the Olympics, while car sales continued at a brisk pace.8 Alternatively, Beijing residents at the poorest 20 percent of the income scale (see Figure 1) can barely afford to remain in their inner city homes, let alone purchase a private car. Indeed, some segments of Beijing society have experienced a signifi cant decline in economic opportunities and social benefi ts.9 Many of these people are older state workers who retired or were laid off from factory jobs or positions in other state-owned enterprises that closed down in the late 1990s. During the 1970s and 1980s, when the “Iron Rice Bowl” was still intact, state- owned factories or work units (danwei) owned and managed worker housing. When most of these state owned factories closed after 1997, workers were sold their apartments or houses at below-market prices. While some workers had other skills, social networks, and relations (guanxi) they could fall back on to make a living or even improve their living conditions, other workers were too old to learn new skills and did not have the connections to get better jobs. As a result, they had to accept lower paying service jobs or remain unemployed. Still, they owned their homes, at least for a while. Unfortunately, this changed for thousands of lower income families after July 2001, with the Inter- national Olympic Committee announcement that Beijing would host the 2008 Summer Olympics.

UNEVEN ECONOMIC GROWTH Although the demolition of older neighborhoods to make room for new shopping malls and ofﬁ ce buildings occurred throughout the 1990s, the 156 The East Asian Olympiads pace of this demolition and resident relocation increased dramatically after 2001. Poorer Beijing residents and older more rundown neighborhoods have been relocated or evicted to make way for these new towering architectural achievements including the Olympic Stadium (the Bird’s Nest) and the Olympic Village. Figure 3 shows the level of space under construction and the dramatic increase in new construction projects in Beijing after the year 2000. While the entrance into the World Trade Organization in 2001 contributed to the increase in construction, the July 2001 announcement that Beijing would host the 2008 Summer Olympics was the trigger for massive urbanization and urban renewal. In fact, when compared to other major cities, such as Shanghai, Chongqing, and Tianjin, Beijing outpaced all these cities in new construction after 2001.10 According to a 2007 report from the Center on Housing Rights and Evictions (COHRE) based in Geneva, about 1.5 million Beijing residents have been forced from their homes in preparation for the 2008 Olympics.11 However, the report also suggests that evictions and forced relocation were not unique to Beijing and in some past Games the situation was even worse. For example, in preparation for the 1988 Seoul Olympics, over 720,000 people were forcibly evicted from their homes, and the urban redevelopment led to unaffordable housing. In addition, thousands of homeless people were rounded up before the Games and detained in facilities outside the city.12 For the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, over 30,000 people in poorer neighborhoods were displaced and 2,000 public housing units were demolished. Although this comparison with other Olympic Games does not justify the relocation of 1.5 million

Source: Beijing Statistical Abstracts 1991 to 2008, data accessed through the University of Michigan China Data Center, China Data Online, http://chinadataonline.org/. Uneven Political Reform 157 people, it does put the Beijing preparations for the 2008 Olympics in a broader context. Not surprisingly, the central government rejected the COHRE report and fi red back with data from an internal survey. According to a report from the Beijing city government committee on construction, only 6,037 households (including 14,901 people) were relocated. In addition, a spokesman for the Beijing city government stated that all the families were reasonably compensated and that the relocation projects went very smoothly. However, the gap between the Beijing report and COHRE numbers is related to what was excluded and included in the calculation. The Beijing city study only included families that were relocated to make room for the thirty-one Olympic venues and excluded all other displacements and evictions due to urban renewal and urbanization after 2001. As a result, the COHRE fi nding of 1.5 million people being relocated refl ects the rapid development of new construction projects in Beijing (see Figure 3). In addition, the COHRE estimates also include the relocation of rural migrant communities within the city limits. Indeed, the dramatic increase in new construction refl ects urbanization and the expansion of Beijing beyond the fi fth ring road as well as urban “renewal” and the demolition of older inner city neighborhoods within the third ring road. The delineation between the Beijing city core and outer areas is based on the ring roads. During the Olympics, Beijing had fi ve ring roads. The inner city is generally referred to as areas within the second and third ring roads, and housing prices in these areas have skyrocketed since 2001. The areas within the fourth and fi fth ring roads are still urban Beijing, but outside the city center, and the areas beyond the fi fth ring road are considered suburban and rural. The eviction from neighborhoods and relocation has both negative and positive impacts on Beijing residents, depending on the amount of compensation provided and where residents are being relocated. For example, many Chinese and foreign journalists have mourned the loss of the Beijing hutong or alley communities.13 A hutong is a narrow alley with a series of doors and entry ways, and behind each entry way is a traditional four-room courtyard (siheyaun). In the pre-Communist period (before 1949), central Beijing communities consisted mainly of hutongs and four-room courtyards that housed two or three generations from a single family. After 1949, many of the four-room courtyards were divided up into separate living spaces for four different families. From the 1950s until the 1990s, the hutongs maintained a strong sense of community. The alleys were fi lled with people and, for better or worse, everyone knew each other. In the hot summer months, due to the lack of air conditioning, many people slept outside on cots in the alley ways. After 1980, the alleys were fi lled with small shops and a continuous parade of merchants pushing or pulling small carts selling food items and services such as knife sharpening and haircuts. However, the rapid construction of new apartment complexes, offi ce buildings, 158 The East Asian Olympiads shopping malls, and Olympic venues after 2001 signaled the end of the hutong communities. Indeed, Figure 3 refl ects urbanization beyond the fourth and fi fth ring roads as well as the demolition of hutongs and urban “renewal” within the third and fourth ring roads. For many families, the destruction of the hutongs meant the end of a community as well as giving up a convenient location in central Beijing and better schools for their children. Ironically, most of the homes in the hutongs were previously work unit housing that were sold to the workers for below market price in the late 1990s, but many lost these homes through urban development less than a decade later. A number of families had to sell their homes to the local government at below market prices. As a result, few families could afford to remain within the third or fourth ring roads and were forced to move further from the city center into the suburbs. A comment from one resident forced to move out of a hutong inside the third ring road in August 2007 characterizes the situation at the time for some residents: “The places they [Beijing municipal government offi cials] have offered to move us are very far out. We couldn’t afford to live anywhere else anyway. It will be hard to get work. Our standard of living will go down.”14 While some residents were relocated to relatively rural areas outside the fi fth ring road, others were moved into high-rise apartments. This meant that it was much less convenient for food shopping and access to services, especially when most relocated families could not afford a car. Journalistic reports also suggest many moved into more isolated apartment communities where there are few interactions and families rarely know their neighbors.15 The new apartment life as opposed to the more communal hutongs was especially diffi cult for the elderly. However, there are also benefi ts in relocating to new apartments. While the new locations were geographically less convenient than the city center, the moves often improved household living conditions. For example, many of the inner city four-room courtyards in the hutongs did not have fl ush toilets or shower facilities. Most families used public toilets located in the alleys and public showers. For these families, the move into high-rise apartments with modern plumbing was a positive change in everyday life. The move also meant switching from coal- burning pot stoves to gas stoves and modern kitchens. In addition, the sense of community was not completely lost. Many high-rise apartment complexes in and around the fourth and fi fth ring roads were designed with green belts, garden paths and even courtyards in the center of the complexes.16 The green spaces are fi lled during the daylight hours with groups of elderly gentleman playing Chinese chess (xiangqi), card games or Mah-ong. In the mornings, elderly men and women use the open areas to do basic calisthenics and Tai-Qi routines. In the evenings, young and old come together in the public spaces between the skyscrapers for ballroom dancing. Thus the local community that fl ourished within the hutongs was not completely lost in the move to high-rise apartments. Nevertheless, not all the older buildings and hutongs were rebuilt or demolished before the Olympics. In fact, much of the older Uneven Political Reform 159

Soviet-style work unit housing built between the 1950s and 1980s was also being being torn down for new construction in the late 1990s and after 2001. These were four- to fi ve-story buildings with very small one- and two-bedroom apartments. By 2008, the remaining buildings were dilapidated and completely run down. In order to prepare for the Summer Olympics, the Beijing municipal government gave a “face lift” to those remaining buildings that faced the major streets and thoroughfares within the third and fourth ring roads. The fronts of the buildings received new coats of paint and some minor repairs. However, the living conditions within these older buildings remained the same. Indeed, a number of condemned and unoccupied buildings, marked for demolition just after the Olympics, still received a new coat of paint. While the poorest 20 percent of Beijing residents were being forced to relocate from the center of Beijing, a large number of rural migrant workers were making their way to the heart of Beijing and the major construction sites. Indeed, the number of unregistered migrant workers in Beijing is estimated to be about two million.17 Many of these migrant workers are involved in the construction industry as manual labor. Most of the new high rises and super structures including the Olympic Vil- lage and the Bird’s Nest stadium were built with rural migrant labor. While many rural migrant workers do not have legal permanent residence in Beijing and tend to be employed in the type of manual labor that most Beijing residents refuse to do, they are seeking a better life. The income from these low-end jobs in construction or restaurant work is considerably higher than the money they make working on the farm. In fact, the annual household income of the poorest 20 percent of legal Beijing residents is almost three times as much as villager income from Hebei, Sichuan, or Shaanxi provinces.18 This does not suggest that life is easy for the migrant workers in Beijing. For example, it took fi ve years to build the Beijing National Stadium (the Bird’s Nest), and thousands of rural migrants worked on the construction.19 Many of these rural migrants lived and worked on site in temporary housing units. Typi- cally, the on-site housing consists of many migrants living in a single room with rows of metal-frame bunk-beds stacked four or fi ve beds tall. The temporary units do not have running water or fl ush toilets, and without air conditioning they are incredibly hot and humid in the summer. In the months leading up to the Olympics, all the temporary housing units and migrant camps near the Olympic Village were removed and tens of thousands of rural migrants were sent home or migrated to other cities. Like registered Beijing residents, some rural migrants have sought legal recourse or local protests to protect their rights and maintain their residence in Beijing.

POLITICAL REFORMS The headline for an August 2, 2008 article in the New York Times read, “Despite Flaws, Rights in China Have Expanded.” Indeed, political 160 The East Asian Olympiads reforms—including a more open and transparent media, and laws that allow citizens to sue local offi cials and petition higher authorities— have expanded since the early 1990s. These political reforms have been enacted in response to rising dissatisfaction with uneven economic development and local protests. Even local election reforms, such as village committee (rural) and neighborhood committee (urban) direct elections, are designed to help maintain social stability rather than democratize China. Allowing citizens the right to take their cases to court, such as when they believe local government offi cials have illegally evicted them from their homes, can provide a social safety value. Ironically, if these political reforms are not fully enforced and local offi cials obstruct citizens’ legal rights, then disgruntled residents may be even more likely to protest. In contemporary China, there is an interaction between political reform and resistance. Since the 1990s, researchers and journalists have closely followed the reports of urban and rural unrest in China.20 The reports suggest a continuing rise in social protests. For example, in July 2005, the Minister of Public Security Zhou Yongkang said that incidences of social disturbances, such as riots and demonstrations, had risen from 58,000 in 2003 to 74,000 in 2004. By the end of 2005, the number of reported social disturbances increased another 6.6 percent to 87,000 incidences. At the same time, an increasing number of citizens are using the court system to address their grievances with local government. In 2003, Chinese courts accepted 87,919 new administrative cases. In 2004, the number of new cases increased another 5.7 percent to 92,613. In 2006, it was over 95,000.21 While most grievances, such as evictions or broken land contracts, are mediated at the local level, the interaction between political reform and resistance begins with legal action. Recent studies about social unrest detail the process resisters go through before starting an unlawful demonstration or protest.22 The majority of cases involve local and mid-level authorities who have ignored national laws. Citizens, who have recently learned about the laws and their legal rights, commence their fi ght at the local level and attempt to have the law enforced. Every unsuccessful attempt pushes the resisters to petition higher authorities. Once all legal channels have been exhausted, then citizen activists might take their case to the streets. In Beijing, as elsewhere in China, many concerned citizens learn about new laws and political reforms from the Chinese television news, newspapers, and published legal pamphlets available at most book stores. For example, the Administrative Litigation Law (ALL) was enacted in 1990 and it is a highly accessible law that allows citizens to sue local government (not party) offi cials. According to Article 2 of the law, “If a citizen, a legal person or any other organization considers that his or its lawful rights and interests have been infringed upon by a specifi c administrative act of an administrative organ or its personnel, he or it shall have the right to bring a suit before a people’s court in accordance with this Law.”23 The People’s Daily (renmin ribao) has published the law and also run a number of stories on how urban Uneven Political Reform 161 and rural residents use the ALL to seek justice against administrative abuses. In addition, most book stores have specifi c areas with rows of legal pamphlets in large bold print including ALL, Land Contract Law, and Urban Neighborhood Committee Election Law. There are also a number of books on how the court system works and how private individuals can start the litigation process. Every year an increasing number of people are using ALL and the court system to address issues from illegal local government land grabs in the countryside to municipal government forced evictions in the cities. The offi cial categories of legal cases accepted by the courts list eleven items including land, city construction, environmental protection, public security (police abuse), and family planning. From 2005 to 2007, disputes over land ownership rights and urban construction made up the largest proportion of cases. In 2007, there were 101,500 fi rst trial administrative cases accepted nationwide and 41,500 cases or 41 percent involved land ownership rights and urban construction.24 The situation is the same in Beijing. In 2007, the largest proportion of civil cases accepted by the People’s High Court of Beijing dealt with ownership rights. Another way citizens can get their cases reviewed is through the petition system or xinfang (literally, “letters and visits”) system. The system was established in 1951 under the Decision on the Work Handling Peo- ple’s Letters and Receiving People’s Visits, and the regulation was recently revised in 2005. According to Article 2 (2005), the term “letters and visits” in these regulations means that citizens can lodge complaints through correspondence, e-mails, faxes, phone calls, or visits. At every county, municipal, and provincial level, there are xinfang bureaus and offi ces designed to deal with citizen petitions and visits. The highest level is the State Bureau of Letters and Visits in Beijing where petitioners from all over the country come to make their fi nal plea for justice. Petitioners typically use the xinfang system after local mediation or court decisions fail to resolve their initial complaint. For example, if a Beijing resident takes her eviction case to the district Public Security Bureau (PSB) for mediation and she is not satisfi ed with the result, then she can go to the municipal court.25 If the court refuses to hear her case, which is not unusual, then she can then petition the central authorities. There are many more petitions than ALL cases. While the number of new administrative cases in 2005 was over 90,000, there were 12.7 million petitions fi led in the same year.26 A large proportion of complaints over the last few years involve ownership rights such as land acquisition, eviction, and compensation.27 Similar to the ALL, the xinfang system was designed to absorb citizen complaints and provide a political safety value to ensure social stability. However, if the system fails to address petitioners concerns, then millions may look outside the legal system to get justice.28

REPRESSION AND UNEVEN REFORMS While most families quietly relocated in the lead-up to the Olympics, others did not want to leave their homes or they felt that the 162 The East Asian Olympiads

compensation offered was too low. A number of these residents refused to be evicted and took their case to the Beijing courts or petitioned higher offi cials to review their cases. The cases brought before the courts were from individuals as well as collective complaints and some of the larger suits were handled by rights activists. These legal activists are people who understand the legal system or actual lawyers who take on pro-bono work. The legal activists have prepared collective complaints for courts, set up the signing and submission of legal petitions, and even attempted to organize lawful demonstrations. However, in the months before the Olympics, citizen rights and activist activities were severely curtailed. In fact, the pre-Olympic directives to limit and suppress civil court cases and petitioners before and especially during the Olympics refl ects the “two steps forward and one step back” process of uneven political reform and repression. In the years and months leading up to the Olympics, a number of rights activists were arrested.29 Several of these activists represented themselves and thousands of families in Beijing who were forced to leave their homes to make way for new construction, including new Olympic venues. For example, Ye Guozhu protested the demolition of his family home in 2003. In 2004, he organized hundreds of disgruntled members of his community and planned to have a lawful demonstration to express their concerns. After Ye went to the district Public Security Bureau to apply for a permit for a 10,000 person demonstration, he was arrested and convicted for “picking quarrels and stirring up trouble.”30 In 2008, Ni Yulan, a former lawyer and housing rights activist in Beijing, was arrested before the Olympics. Ni worked with families evicted from their homes and helped them prepare legal petitions and court cases especially for cases where the residents did not receive fair compensation. She was charged with “obstructing offi cial business.”31 In addition to high profi le arrests, the central and Beijing authorities also restricted lawful demonstrations during the Olympics to three parks far from the Olympic venues. The 1989 Law on Assemblies, Pro- cessions, and Demonstrations grants citizens the right to stage lawful protests. Article 1 of the law states that, “pursuant to the Constitu- tion, this Law is enacted to safeguard citizens’ exercise of their right to assembly, procession and demonstration according to law and to maintain social stability and public order.”32 Of course, the stipulation is the clause that maintaining social stability has a greater priority than civil rights. All citizens who wish to demonstrate must obtain permission from the local Pubic Security Bureau offi ce. Since 1989, some people have received permits for protest against factories for pollution violations and closures of state-owned factories. However, in the months and weeks before the Olympics, citizens attempting to apply for permits to demonstrate were shuffl ed around from one department to another.33 A manager from one of the designated parks told a reporter that he had no idea if anyone was planning to protest or what to do if any protesters did arrive.34 Most of the published reports suggest that the Uneven Political Reform 163

“protest parks” were basically empty during the Olympics. The parks represent the uneven political reforms and the gap between the laws on the books and actual implementation. Nevertheless, pre-Olympic restrictions on legal rights went beyond Beijing and the three “protest parks.” On May 12, 2008, a magnitude 7.9 earthquake occurred in Sichuan province killing over 68,000 people.35 The government response was immediate and the quake received massive media coverage from both the domestic and international press. In the early days and weeks of the quake, the central leadership received high marks for swift rescue missions and emergency response. In addition, there was a remarkable level of media access to the scene and less censorship than expected for such a calamity.36 There were pictures and news clips of members of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) pulling out survivors, hiking to remote villages, and providing relief stations. One famous shot showed Premier Wen Jiabao at the quake site on the second day with a bullhorn telling people trapped under rubble that help was soon on the way. However, even before the dust completely settled, it was apparent that an abnormally large number of children perished in the quake when their school buildings collapsed. The pictures and television clips soon switched from PLA rescues to crying mothers and fathers with photos of their only child next to an enormous pile of broken concrete walls and iron rods. While many apartments and governments buildings remained standing, a large proportion of elementary, middle, and high schools was completely destroyed by the quake. Some parents called for a full investigation into why the schools had collapsed so easily and municipal and county party-government structures still remained standing.37 It was clear that low-grade materials and poor construction of school buildings contributed to the massive destruction and death of children. The parents blamed local government offi cials for allowing the use of cheap materials for the construction of schools and not allocating enough funds for maintenance. Some of the grieving parents began to organize civil law suits against local governments using the ALL. The parents sought to use the legal system to address their grief as well as their grievances. However, the Olympics were less than three months away and the central leadership “asked” the quake victims to not sue local offi cials before August 8.38 In the end, many cases were mediated outside the courts including compensation and policies allowing second children for younger couples. Citizens who have exhausted the court system, but are seeking one last appeal from the central leadership, typically fi nd their way to the State Bureau of Letters and Visits in Beijing. However the process of presenting the petition and getting a response can take months or even years. In Beijing, committed petitioners have congregated in makeshift camps to wait for their opportunity to get their grievances heard by someone in the central leadership.39 Although the number of petitions has averaged over 10 million a year since 2001, rarely are petitions settled through the xinfang system.40 Despite this low success rate, petitioners still come to 164 The East Asian Olympiads

Beijing. This is because many believe that local cadre abuse of authority exists because the central leadership does not know about it. Once the central leaders understand what is happening on the ground, then they can remedy the situation. Yet petitioners who are shuffl ed from one offi ce to another or face tighter restrictions over the xinfang process inevitably begin to get disillusioned with the central leadership.41 The Beijing municipality began clearing out petitioner camps a year ahead of the Olympics and continued to restrict petitioners from coming to Beijing in the months and weeks before August 8, 2008. Many of the people who come to Beijing seeking justice for local cadre abuses are from the countryside or small cities, and they have little money for hotels and living expenses. As a result, many petitioners came together in low-rent housing, sharing rooms and living costs. In the summer of 2007, the largest petitioner settlement in run down- housing units near the Southern Beijing railway station was demolished and hundreds of petitioners were told to fi nd other lodgings.42 The offi cial reason was that the land was being excavated for railway station expansion in time for the Olympics, but many petitioners believed that the Beijing police wanted them to return home.43 This general feeling that they were not wanted in Beijing before the Olympics became central government regulation the following year. This July 2008 regulation has two components. First, it reaffi rmed the rights of citizens to submit petitions. Yet it also called on regional offi - cials to personally handle citizen grievances and resolve these problems at the local level or, in other words, keep the petitioners from coming to Beijing.44 The new rules were immediate and effective. For example, in Sichuan where the earthquake hit, grieving parents sought to petition provincial and national education bureaus to address the massive collapse of elementary and middle schools. In late July, offi cials at the local education bureaus were sent a notice from the provincial government that they must “absolutely prevent petitioners from going to Beijing.”45 At the same time, in Zhejiang province, local offi cials and police received an online message that read, “Their aim must be zero petitions to the provincial and national government.”46 In Beijing, the police were clearing out the smaller remaining petitioner camps and forcing their residents to return home in order to present an “orderly and clean” Olympic environment.47 The regulations that permit citizens to submit petitions and sue local government offi cials are important steps toward protecting citizen’s legal rights, but the political imperative for social stability, especially before national and international events, tends to restrict and even reverse some of these rights. Popular support for the central leadership rests not only on social stability and growing economic opportunities, but also on the perception that the national leadership is looking out for the rights of average citizens. The increasing number of citizens using the legal system in China and petitioners who have kept coming to Beijing is an indicator of public trust in the central leadership to resolve local problems. Even the arrests of rights lawyers and Uneven Political Reform 165

restricting petitioners before the Olympics demonstrated to the international community that a measure of civil rights exist in China and some citizens believe in these rights so fervently that they risk impris- onment. Yet, by restricting political reforms in a very public manner before the Olympics, the CCP has risked slowly losing popular support and changing citizen perceptions of the central leadership.

CONCLUSION The Summer Olympics was a towering achievement and it drew the attention of the world media to China for sixteen days in August 2008. It also provided the international community with a glimpse of contemporary China, and this revealed two basic views. One was the new economically developed China undergoing slow but continuous political reforms. The other was of a more repressive regime that is experiencing rapid economic growth and a growing gap between rich and poor. This chapter demonstrates that there is plenty of evidence to support both views: greater political reforms and freedoms over the years and increasing political repressions in the coming months and weeks before the Olympics. These contradictory views refl ect the “two steps forward and one step back” process of economic and political reforms in China. The CCP went into the Olympics with a high level of popular support and, by all accounts, the central leadership did not lose this support from the majority of China’s citizens. Still, this support was and is based on maintaining social stability. The introduction of political reforms is meant to absorb discontent due to uneven economic opportunities and to provide disgruntled citizens with the legal means to address their grievances instead of taking to the streets (i.e. instability). Thus, improving and protecting citizen rights will contribute to social stability. However, restricting these rights in the name of preserving “social harmony” before the Olympics presents a serious, but not uncommon, contradiction in CCP policies to preserve social order. Nevertheless, the arrests of rights lawyers and petitioners in Beijing subsided after the Olympics. This changed in the months leading up to the October 1, 2009 National Day celebrations representing the sixtieth anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. In a repeat of the pre-Olympic repression of activists, there were a series of high-profi le arrests of rights lawyers and a push to expel petitioners from Beijing before the sixtieth anniversary. In August 2009, Xu Zhiyong, a prominent legal scholar and founder of the Open Constitution Initiative law fi rm, was arrested on charges of tax evasion. He and his law fi rm helped citizens work through the legal system and have represented the families whose children were sick from tainted milk in suits against the company responsible for the chemical milk additives, in addition to challenging local police use of secret detention centers or “black jails.”48 In addition, stricter orders to keep petitioners 166 The East Asian Olympiads out of Beijing were also issued. In early August, the state-run Xinhua News Agency cited the head of the CCP Political and Legislative Affairs Committee at a recent meeting, who stressed that petitioner grievances needed to be dealt with at the local level and emphasized that “problems can be solved without coming to Beijing.”49 The stated reason was “to maintain social harmony and stability” in Beijing for the sixtieth anniversary celebrations. The 2008 Summer Olympics as well as the sixtieth anniversary of the People’s Republic were meant to enhance the international stature of China and present an image of a strong and confi dent central leadership to the international community as well as the Chinese public. In many respects, the CCP was successful. However, the pre-event activities that restricted legal rights for political purposes weaken the image of a confi dent CCP leadership. So far, the national leadership has maintained a level of social harmony through reforms and repression, but in the long run, repressive measures that restrict these rights may under- mine the stability and support that the leadership seeks to maintain.

NOTES 1 Kevin O’Brien and Li Lianjiang, Rightful Resistance in Rural China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Thomas P. Bernstein, “Unrest in Rural China: A 2003 Assessment,” Center for the Study of Democracy Paper 04–13 (2004) (http://repositories.cdlib.org/csd/04–13); Thomas Lum, “Social Unrest in China” CRS Report for Congress, May 8, 2006, (http://www.fas.org/sgp/crs/ row/RL33416.pdf, accessed August 18, 2008). 2 Chen Jie, Yang Zhong, and Jan William Hillard, “The Level and Sources of Political Support for China’s Current Regime,” Communist and Post Communist Studies 30:1 (1997), p. 45; Chen Xueyi and Tianjian Shi, “Media Effects on Political Conﬁ dence and Trust in the PRC in the Post-Tiananmen Period,” East Asia: An International Quarterly 19:3 (2001), pp. 84–118; Chen Jie, Popular Political Support in Urban China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2004); Li Lianjiang, “Political Trust in Rural China,” Modern China 30:2 (April 2004), p. 228; Wang Zhengxu, “Before the Emergence of Critical Citizens: Economic Development and Political Trust in China,” International Review of Sociology 15:1 (2005), p. 155; Tang Wenfang, Public Opinion and Political Change in China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2005); World Values Survey, 2000–2001 (http://www.worldvaluessurvey.org; for data access also see http://wvs.isr. umich.edu/). 3 Pew Report, “The Chinese Celebrate Their Roaring Economy as They Struggle With Its Costs: Optimism About Beijing Olympics is Nearly Universal” (July 22, 2008) (http://pewresearch.org/pubs/906/china-economy, accessed August 18, 2009). 4 Pei Minxin, China’s Trapped Transition (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006); O’Brien and Li, Rightful Resistance in Rural China. 5 Pei, China’s Trapped Transition. 6 Y. Wang, J. Hao, M. B. McElroy, J. W. Munger, H. Ma, D. Chen, and C. P. Nielsen, “Ozone Air Quality During the 2008 Beijing Olympics: Uneven Political Reform 167

Effectiveness of Emission Restrictions,” Atmospheric Chemistry and Physics 9 (2009), pp. 5237–5251. 7 Wang Ting and Shaodong Xie, “Assessment of Trafﬁ c-Related Air Pollution in the Urban Streets Before and During the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games Trafﬁ c Control Period,” Atmospheric Environment 43:35 (November 2009), pp. 5682–5690. 8 Jonathan Watts, “Beijing Keeps Olympic Restrictions on Cars After Air Quality Improves,” The Guardian, April 6, 2009. 9 Dorothy J. Solinger, “State and Society in Urban China in the Wake of the 16th Party Congress,” The China Quarterly 176 (2003), pp. 943–959; Wu Fulong, “Urban Poverty and Marginalization Under Market Transition: The Case of Chinese Cities,” International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 28:2 (2004), pp. 401–423. 10 China Statistical Yearbook 2008 (Beijing: China Statistics Press, 2008), data accessed through the University of Michigan China Data Center, China Data Online, http://chinadataonline.org/. 11 Center on Housing Rights and Evictions (COHRE), “One World, Whose Dream? Housing Rights Violations and the Beijing Olympic Games,” July 2008 Report (http://www.cohre.org/beijingreport, accessed August 18, 2009). 12 Erica Bulman, “Rights Group: 1.5 Million People Displaced by Preparations for 2008 Beijing Olympics,” USA Today, June 5, 2007 (http://www.usatoday. com/sports/olympics/2007–06–05–3431055449_x.htm, accessed September 2, 2009). 13 Ng Tze-wei, “Love of Heritage Too Little, Too Late to Save Hutongs from the Developers,” South China Morning Post, June 9, 2007 (http://www. globalheritagefund.org/news/conservation_news/love_of_heritage_jun_ 07.asp, accessed September 2, 2009); Richard Spencer, “Demolition of China’s Heritage is Attacked by Minister,” The Daily Telegraph, June 12, 2007 (http:// www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/1554322/Demolition-of-Chinas- heritage-attacked-by-minister.html#, accessed September 2, 2009). 14 “Residents Refused to Make Way for Beijing Olympics,” New York Times, August 3, 2007 (http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/03/world/asia/03iht- beijing.1.6972501.html, accessed September 2, 2009). 15 Paul Goldberger, “Out of the Blocks: Beijing’s Olympic Architecture is Spectacular, but What Message Does It Send?” The New Yorker (June 2, 2008); Spencer, “Demolition of China’s Heritage is Attacked by Minister.” 16 Scott Macintosh, “New is Where It’s at as Beijing Builds Its Future [Properties International Herald Tribune],” New York Times, May 31, 2006 (http://www. nytimes.com/2006/04/13/realestate/13iht-rejing.1527323.html, accessed September 2, 2009). 17 Zheng Siqi, Fenjie Long, C. Cindy Fan, and Yizhen Gu, “Urban Villages in China: A 2008 Survey of Migrant Settlements in Beijing,” Eurasian Geography and Economics 50:4 (2009), pp. 425–446. 18 According to the China Statistical Yearbooks in 2008, the 2007 annual household income for the bottom 20 percent of Beijing residents was 11,936 yuan. In 2007, the annual household income for rural residents in Hebei was 4,293, in Sichuan it was 3,546, and in Shaanxi it was 2,645. China Statistical Yearbook 2007 and 2008 (Beijing: China Statistics Press, 2008), data accessed 168 The East Asian Olympiads

through the University of Michigan China Data Center, China Data Online, http://chinadataonline.org/. 19 Fong Mei, “So Much Work, So Little Time: As Beijing Explodes in an Olympic Building Boom, Wei Zhongwen Struggles with Injuries and Loneliness,” The Wall Street Journal, December 23, 2006 (http://online.wsj.com/public/article/ SB116682759008358037–4a_N0POG0GL_qArNt7zGAvDMTAc_20070423. html, accessed September 5, 2009). 20 Lum, “Social Unrest in China”; Ni Ching-Ching, “Offi cials Report 39,000 Protests in the First Half of 2006, Down from ’05 but Still a Key Concern,” Los Angeles Times, August 10, 2006; Tony Saich, “China in 2005: Hu’s in Charge,” Asian Survey 46:1 (2006), pp. 37–48; Bernstein, “Unrest in Rural China: A 2003 Assessment.” 21 China Statistical Yearbook 2007 (Beijing: China Statistics Press, 2007), data accessed through the University of Michigan China Data Center, China Data Online, http://chinadataonline.org/. 22 Edward Cody, “China’s Rising Tide of Protest Sweeping Up Party Offi cials,” Washington Post, September 12, 2005, p. A01; O’Brien and Li, Rightful Resistance in Rural China. 23 Administrative Litigation Law, English translation from the United States Congressional Executive Commission on China (http://www.cecc.gov/pages/ newLaws/adminLitigationENG.php, accessed September 20, 2009). 24 China Statistical Yearbook 2008 (Beijing: China Statistics Press, 2008), data accessed through the University of Michigan China Data Center, China Data Online, http://chinadataonline.org/. 25 The Chinese extra-judicial system is below the county and urban district basic courts. Most civil cases go through this type of informal mediation at the village or urban neighborhood committee as well as the district PSB offi ces and many do not make it to the court system. However, if the local mediation does not succeed, then the next step is the court system or petition. Ethan Michelson, “Justice from Above or Justice from Below? Popular Strategies for Resolving Grievances in Rural China,” China Quarterly 193 (March 2008), pp. 43–64. 26 Zou Keyuan, “The Right to Petition in China: New Developments and Prospects,” EAI Background Brief No. 285 (2006) (http://www.eai.nus.edu.sg/ BB285.pdf, accessed August 20, 2009). 27 Zou, “The Right to Petition in China.” 28 Li Lianjiang, “Political Trust and Petitioning in the Chinese Countryside,” Comparative Politics 40:2 (January 2008). 29 “China repression worsens ahead of Games,” Reuters, April 29, 2007 (http:// www.reuters.com/article/latestCrisis/idUSPEK160107, accessed August 18, 2009). 30 “China’s Voices of Dissent,” BBC, October 9, 2008 (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/ hi/asia-pacifi c/7047154.stm, accessed September 2, 2009). 31 “China’s Voices of Dissent.” 32 Law on Assemblies, Processions, and Demonstrations, the English translation from the Supreme People’s Court of the People’s Republic of China (http://en.chinacourt.org/public/detail.php?id=2691, accessed September 20, 2009). Uneven Political Reform 169

33 Michael Bristow, “Hurdles Facing Beijing Protesters,” BBC News, July 31, 2008 (http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/asia-paciﬁ c/7534536.stm, accessed September 5, 2009). 34 Bristow, “Hurdles Facing Beijing Protesters.” 35 Marc Blecher, “China in 2008: Meeting the Olympic Challenges,” Asian Survey 49:1 (2009), pp. 74–87. 36 Blecher, “China in 2008.” 37 Blecher, “China in 2008.” 38 Chris Buckley, “China Detains Quake School Critic: Rights Group ’” Reuters, June 18, 2008 (http://uk.reuters.com/article/idUKPEK31256720080618, accessed August 20, 2009); Howard French, “Activists Warned on Olympic Protests,” New York Times, June 26, 2008 (http://www.nytimes. com/2008/06/26/world/asia/ 26china.html accessed August 20, 2009). 39 Simon Montlake, “Begging for Justice in China’s Capital,” The Christian Science Monitor, October 26, 2006 (http://www.csmonitor.com/2006/1026/ p07s02-woap.html, accessed September 5, 2009). 40 Zou, “The Right to Petition in China.” 41 Li, “Political Trust and Petitioning in the Chinese Countryside.” 42 Peter Ford, “China to Evict Petitioners Before Olympics,” The Christian Science Monitor, September 13, 2007 (http://www.csmonitor.com/2007/0913/ p01s06-woap.html, accessed September 5, 2009). 43 Ford , “China to Evict Petitioners Before Olympics.” 44 Willy Lam, “CCP Launches Personnel Reform to Stem ‘Mass Incidents,’”China Brief 8:16 (August, 2008). 45 French, “Activists Warned on Olympic Protests.” 46 French, “Activists Warned on Olympic Protests.” 47 Henry Sanderson, “China Crackdown Targets Critics Ahead of Olympics,” USA Today, July 10, 2008 (http://www.usatoday.com/sports/olympics/2008– 07–10–627501674_x.htm, accessed August 20, 2009). 48 Barbara Demick, “China Lawyer Who Fought Unfair Arrest is Arrested,” Los Angeles Times, August 7, 2009 (http://articles.latimes.com/2009/aug/07/ world/fg-china-lawyer7, accessed September 15, 2009). 49 Clifford Coonan, “China Goes All Out for Stability Ahead of National Day Celebrations,” The Irish Times, August 10, 2009 (http://www.irishtimes.com/ newspaper/world/2009/0810/1224252312806_pf.html, accessed September 15, 2009). 11 S(up)porting Roles: East Asian Women and the Olympic Games

Robin Kietlinski

he fi rst Asian woman to compete at the Olympic Games was Hitomi TKinue, a track and fi eld athlete who represented Japan in the 1928 Summer Olympics in Amsterdam. Her participation came on the heels of her previous successful performance at the second Women’s Olympics in 1926 in Gothenburg, Sweden, where she competed in six different events, receiving medals in fi ve of these events and setting the world record in the running long jump. She was offi cially honored as the outstanding individual of the Games. This occurred at a time when women in nearly all countries were discouraged from taking part in competitive sports or strenuous exercise for fear of the damage such activity would cause women’s bodies. A small coalition of women, including Japan’s Hitomi Kinue, chose to go against the majority mindset, however, and in doing so they would change the future of sports and of the Olympic Games forever. As the fi rst non-Western woman to compete in the Olympics, Hitomi was, quite literally, on the starting line of a budding trend towards increased female and non-Western participation at the Olympics. Many other Asian women would follow in her footsteps to create a long and respectable record of athletic performances at the pinnacle of all sporting events that is the Olympic Games. In this chapter, I will highlight some important moments in the history of East Asian women’s participation in the Games in order to show the role they have had in shaping the Olympic movement both nationally and internationally. The contribution that Asian women have made to the Olympic movement tends to be left out of English-language literature on the Olympics, and such an exclusion has negative consequences. First, it perpetuates an untrue stereotype that male athletes dominate the sporting world in Asia. Second, it reinforces a woefully incomplete image of Asian women as weak and docile. In focusing on the long and varied history of participation by Asian women in the Olympics, S(up)porting Roles 171 this chapter shows that Asian women have played more than mere supporting roles in the representation of their respective countries in athletic performance on the world stage: they have come to contribute at a rate comparable to—or even above—that of their male counterparts. Women fi rst made their appearance at the second Olympic Games in Paris in 1900, competing in sports that were considered appropriately feminine at the time, namely tennis, golf, and croquet.1 Olympic founder Pierre de Coubertin is frequently cited as having espoused a strong disapproval of female participation in the Games, which was of course refl ective of the Victorian mindset of his time. In his writing, Coubertin referred to women’s sports as “the most unaesthetic sight human eyes could contemplate,” and argued that “a woman’s glory rightfully came through the number and quality of children she produced, and that where sports were concerned, her greatest accomplishment was to encourage her sons to excel rather than to seek records for herself.”2 However, at the turn of the twentieth century, all did not share the mindset of Coubertin and his all-male International Olympic Committee (IOC). Feminists from Western nations were cam- paigning for increased participation by women in sports, and women in Asia were also starting to take a more active role in the growth of competitive sports. Simply put, the development of modern women’s sports in Asia came about through a combination of indigenous sporting practices and the infl uence of Western nations.3 In the case of China, historical texts discuss women participating in ball games from as early as 123 A.D., and in other more aggressive sports such as wrestling from the time of the Song Dynasty (960–1279).4 Similarly, in Japan there exist records suggesting that women participated in ball games such as kemari as early as the fourteenth century, though these activities were usually enjoyed only by men.5 China, Japan, and Korea also all have long histories of armed and unarmed martial arts, and ancient records place women in prominent roles within these martial traditions.6 In the nineteenth century, as missionaries and foreign settlers began to bear infl uence on ways of thinking and on educational systems in East Asia, attitudes towards women in sports were affected. Missionary schools in China introduced modern sports like gymnastics, athletics, swimming, basketball, volleyball, and table tennis into the curriculum for female students.7 In the early twentieth century, education that included courses in physical education became more common among Chinese women, and by 1912 the fi rst private women’s sports school was opened in southeastern China.8 Of course, with the introduction of new Western sports also came certain Western biases towards women’s participation in them. The Victorian-infl uenced mindset of many of China’s foreign settlers was that gentle exercise was acceptable in that in helped women successfully procreate, but that most games or competitive sports were likely to cause long-term damage to women’s bodies.9 For this reason, women were restricted from taking part in 172 The East Asian Olympiads large, high-level sporting events like the National Games, which were organized by Westerners in 1910 and 1914.10 A parallel trend occurred in Japan, as the Meiji government sent numerous Japanese educators abroad to learn about new teaching methods during the period of concentrated modernization and West- ernization immediately following the 1868 Meiji Restoration. Several infl uential individuals traveled to Europe and North America, and came back with new methods of physical education to impart upon an educational system that was rapidly becoming more accessible to girls. One such individual, Nikaido¯ Tokuyo, spent several years in England and returned to Japan in 1915 determined to establish Japan’s fi rst school of physical education for women. Her school, Nikaido¯ Taiso¯ Juku (now Nihon Joshi Taiiku Daigaku), opened in 1922 and recruited talented women from all over Japan.11 One of these women was Hitomi Kinue, who would go on to become Japan’s fi rst female Olympian in 1928. Around this same time in Europe, the movement towards increased female representation at the Olympic Games had intensifi ed. Political activist and feminist Alice Milliat of France had started the Olympiques Féminines, or Women’s Olympics, in Paris in 1922 after losing her appeal to the IOC to have women’s track and fi eld events included on the offi cial Olympic program.12 The event quickly grew in size and scope, and when Hitomi Kinue was honored as the outstanding individual athlete at the second Women’s Olympics in 1926, the IOC took notice of the event, as it had clearly taken on a global signifi cance.13 The IOC took issue with Milliat’s use of the word “Olympics” for her now very popular event, and in 1926 a compromise was reached whereby Milliat would change the name of her event in exchange for the inclusion of fi ve women’s track and fi eld events on the program of the Olympic Games scheduled to take place in Amsterdam in 1928.14 At the time of the Amsterdam Olympics, Hitomi held the world records in the 200-meter dash and the long jump, but since neither of these events was to be held for women, she entered the 100-meter dash instead.15 Hitomi was unable to keep up with the one American and two Canadians who wound up taking the top three places in the 100-meter dash, and she came in fourth place. As one of the top all- around athletes in the world of women’s sports at the time, Hitomi was distraught, as she felt she had not been able to prove her abilities in the (roughly) 12 seconds she had run for the 100-meter race. Thinking of her other options, Hitomi knew that she could not win a medal in the high jump because she had not had much experience in that event. The discus throw had already taken place, and of course she could not race the 4x100m relay as the sole female athlete from Japan. The only other event left for women was the 800-meter race, but Hitomi had never raced or trained for this event. Even so, she felt that because this race was relatively new to all the women racing it, perhaps she had a chance to win a medal.16 After starting the race too fast and being passed by fi ve runners at the halfway point, Hitomi wound up coming in second place in the S(up)porting Roles 173

fi rst-ever women’s 800-meter race at the Olympics.17 She returned to Japan a national hero, and toured the country giving lectures about her experiences. Sadly, Hitomi died just three years to the day after her victorious race in Amsterdam, due to an incurable case of pneumonia contracted during a boat trip back to Japan from Prague. While she would compete in only one Olympics, Hitomi paved the road not only for Japanese women to compete on the international level, but also for non-Western women to take part in the event.18 At the next Olympic Games in Los Angeles in 1932, Japan sent sixteen women to compete in both track and fi eld and swimming events, and swimmer Maehata Hideko came home with the silver medal in the women’s 200-meter breaststroke event.19 Maehata had been swimming in the rivers near her house from the time she was a child, and became an instant success on the swimming teams at both her primary and secondary schools. In 1929, at the age of fi fteen, Maehata competed in her fi rst international swimming competition, taking home a gold and a silver medal from that year’s Pan-Pacifi c Women’s Games held in Hawai’i.20 She qualifi ed for the Los Angeles Olympics in the spring of 1932, and at the Games came in second place to Australia’s Clare Dennis. Though she was proud to see the hi no maru fl ag raised at the awards ceremony, she felt a sense of disappointment in having been so close (one tenth of a second behind Dennis) but not having won a gold medal. Upon her return to Japan, she received piles of mail from strangers, with some people telling her that she did well and should now move on to marriage (she was eighteen at the time), and others urging her to try to go for the gold medal at the next Summer Olympics in Berlin. “You only lost by a tenth of a second, so don’t be disappointed!” “Please, go for it in Berlin!”21 Maehata indeed went for it in Berlin, and wound up winning the fi rst gold medal by a Japanese woman. The enthusiastic live radio broadcast of her race, as discussed by Kushner in this volume, added fuel to the fi re of an excitement over women’s sports that had been growing since Hitomi began her winning streak in track and fi eld a decade earlier.22 While the Olympic Games helped to propel women’s sport in Japan to a level never before seen, a similar trend was being seen in China around this time, albeit not as a result of women’s participation in the Olympics. In China, women had begun participating in both strength-building calisthenics and competitive sports in large numbers by the 1920s.23 As discussed by Goodman in his chapter on the Far Eastern Games, several other large-scale international sporting events were taking place in the early twentieth century, and athletes from many nations that were not represented at the Olympics were taking part in these events. Women’s events were included on the program at the Far Eastern Games in 1923 and at China’s National Games in 1924.24 While a foreign-infl uenced bias towards women’s participation in competitive sports had impacted women’s access to certain events in the early twentieth century, by the 1930s there was a robust circuit of competition for women in East Asia. 174 The East Asian Olympiads

As in China, women in Korea were also participating in sports in large numbers by the 1930s. The Japanese annexation of Korea in 1910 resulted in the forced adoption of Japanese-style physical education in schools throughout Korea.25 This, in turn, meant that many successful athletes from Korea began to compete under the Japanese fl ag in international competitions. Although a foundation was being laid at this time for the future success of female athletes from Korea, the only Olympic medal winners emerging from occupied Korea at this time were men. Most famously perhaps were the gold and bronze medal winners of the men’s marathon in Berlin in 1936: two nationalist Koreans competing under the Japanese fl ag.26 The fi rst Korean woman to win a medal at the Olympics would not come until after the Korean War, when North Korean skater Han Pil Hwa won a silver medal in the 3000- meter speed skating event in the Innsbruck Winter Games in 1964.27 The North Korean women’s volleyball team won bronze medals in the volleyball competition in 1972 and the South Korean women’s volleyball team took home the fi rst medals for women from that country in 1976.28 The sport of volleyball in fact had a starring role in the development of women’s sports in post-World War II East Asia. Introduced to the region by foreign missionaries in the early twentieth century, the sport took off among women in part because it was a team sport that involved minimal physical contact (as opposed to sports such as soccer or basketball).29 Volleyball was the fi rst women’s team sport to be included in the Far Eastern Games (1923), the Chinese National Games (1924), and the Olympic Games (1964).30 The strength of East Asian women in Olympic volleyball has been evident from the start: of the eleven times that volleyball has been included on the Olympic program, at least one team from East Asia has won a medal nine times. By way of comparison, in men’s Olympic volleyball, an East Asian nation (Japan) has won only three times.31 The sport is said to have taken off even more in the postwar reconstruction years, due to its ability to be played very inexpensively with just a ball and a small amount of space. One of the most memorable events in Japan’s postwar history was the women’s volleyball gold medal victory over the Soviet Union at the Tokyo Olympics in 1964. While volleyball has been a particular strength of East Asia’s female Olympians, they have excelled in a wide variety of sports from the time they began appearing at the Games. For some nations this was later than others, as the “Two China Problem” resulted in a relatively late entry by Chinese women into the Olympic circuit.32 That said, in the years leading up to China’s re-entry into the Olympics, Chinese women had begun to compete successfully at other major international competitions, namely world championship meets. For example, in 1979, gymnast Ma Yanhong won a gold medal in the asymmetric bars at the world gymnastics championships, and would go on to win the gold in the same event at the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. Similarly, the Chinese team won the gold medal at the volleyball world S(up)porting Roles 175 championships in 1982, and followed this up with a gold medal win at the Olympics in 1984. Many other Chinese women who dominated in their sports in 1984 and beyond had been participating successfully in international events for several years prior to the PRC’s re-joining of the International Olympic Committee.33 China’s transition from non-participation to almost immediate success at the Olympic Games begs the question: “To what extent do the Olympic Games impact women’s sports in East Asia?” In spite of the allegations and discovery of performance-enhancing drugs that marred the records of Chinese athletes of the 1980s and 1990s, the rise of sportswomen from East Asia in the latter part of the twentieth century has been impressive and noteworthy.34 At the Summer Olympics in Athens, of the small number of countries with female delegates out- numbering male delegates, nearly half of these countries were in East Asia.35 In recent Olympics, China has sent a delegation comprised of nearly twice as many women as men.36 Considering the attention given to and the resources being funneled into women’s sports in China, Japan, and other nations in the region, it is safe to say that the Olympic Games have indeed had a signifi cant impact on the development of women’s sports in East Asia. These impacts are both national and global in scope. The Olympic Games have seen many changes over the years due to modernization and globalization, and these processes have both affected and been affected by women Olympians from East Asia. Japan in particular has played an important role in making the Olympics a more global phenomenon. The modern Olympic Games began in 1896 as an all-male sporting competition among athletes from fourteen Western nations.37 Japan became the fi rst non-Western nation to have a man serve on the IOC when Kano¯ Jigoro¯ joined the committee in 1909. Kano¯’s presence on the IOC helped the Japanese delegation at the Games grow considerably in the 1910s and 1920s.38 In 1928, Hitomi Kinue became the fi rst Asian woman to compete and win a medal at the Olympics, thus playing an important role in the rapidly expanding world of women’s sports at that time. New media such as live radio broadcasts enabled people around the world to experience the broadening scope of international women’s sports in the 1930s, which undoubtedly contributed to the growing number of female athletes and women’s events included on the Olympic program over the years.39 The media has played a major role in the development of women’s elite sports, as the Olympics have historically spotlighted and lent legitimacy to certain sports that may otherwise remain off the radar for the average spectator. This includes women’s sports, which tend to be universally less popular and less watched than men’s sports. Success by an individual or team at the Olympics can often result in a heightened interest in that sport after the Olympics is done. In the case of Japan, the Tokyo Olympics showcased several women’s sports that went on to have a surge of popularity after the Games, most notably women’s volleyball. Images of the sport fi ltered into Japanese society through such 176 The East Asian Olympiads media as Urano Chikako’s manga Attack No. 1, which was subsequently made into both anime and live-action TV shows. For several decades now, women’s volleyball has had an arguably greater presence in the Japanese media than has men’s volleyball. This heightened presence in the media in the form of manga, TV shows, and product endorsements frequently translates into more girls and young women taking up the sport.40 The lasting effects of the Olympic Games can also be seen in a more concrete sense, as the event leads to the improvement of the sporting infrastructure in the nations hosting the event. In both Japan and Korea, several state-of-the-art facilities were built when those nations hosted the Olympics from the 1960s to the 1980s, and massive projects were completed in China for the 2008 Summer Olympics. After the Olympic Games have fi nished, these venues continue to be used to host large national and international sporting events. While this benefi ts both female and male athletes, in the case of countries where more women than men take part in the Olympics, the access to new and improved sporting facilities is likely to benefi t women as much if not more than men. The ability to host competitions in a broad spectrum of sports in large, top-class venues will invariably lead to an elevated level of competition in the host nation. The Olympic Games also have the potential to have a lasting effect on how notions of femininity and/or womanhood are conceived within a given society. In the earlier years of the Olympics, this came into play as women from all different backgrounds would compete against one another every four years, sometimes resulting in major shifts in attitude from those who witnessed the events. For example, in the 1920s when Hitomi Kinue fi rst traveled to Europe to compete, she returned to Japan and informed the public in her writings that sports in Europe were not activities limited to schoolgirls, and that married women and even mothers could compete in sports as well.41 At the 1948 Olympics in London, Dutch runner Francina (Fanny) Blankers-Koen came back from a twelve-year hiatus from the Olympics after mothering two children to become the star of that year’s Olympics, winning four gold medals. Prior to this time, the belief in many countries was still that sports were harmful to women, particularly with respect to marriage and childbirth.42 Globalization and the ease with which information now crosses national boundaries has only accelerated the pace at which events like the Olympics have had the potential to impact national ideals towards athletic women. The fact that the Olympics have long been highly publicized events has been a major factor in the dissemination of more progressive views towards women’s participation in competitive sports. The heavy media exposure of the Olympics has also led certain countries to use the event in order to promote a national agenda. While citizens of nearly all counties become more nationalistic and hope for gold at the Olympics, some countries have taken the procurement of Olympic medals to a level that goes beyond national pride. S(up)porting Roles 177

China, in particular, has placed more emphasis on winning gold medals than most countries. During the Olympic Games, the Chinese press keeps a tally of medals along with a point system, even though the IOC has forbidden such an offi cial scoring system.43 It has recently come to light that China launched a national program in the year 2000 aimed at developing athletic talent in those sports where multiple medals are awarded, and in which Chinese athletes have previously had little success. This program is known as “Project 119,” for that is the target number of medals China seeks to win in Beijing (up signifi cantly from the sixty-three they brought home from Athens). The authorities have apparently targeted specifi c sports in which they believe Chinese athletes are most likely to get on the medal podiums, including numerous women’s sports such as diving, rowing, cycling, archery, wrestling, gymnastics, soccer, and a variety of aquatic and track and fi eld events.44 The Olympic Games have thus served as a catalyst for the increased support of women’s elite sport in China. While the goal of a scheme such as Project 119 is an inherently national one, it also has global implications. As China attempts to use the Olympics as the stage upon which it can establish a kind of worldwide dominance, other nations will have to adjust their Olympic strategies to remain competitive. The United States, which has led the medal count at the Summer Olympics since the breakup of the Soviet Union, has substantially increased the amount of money spent on training Olympic athletes over the past decade. When asked about the threat posed by China’s Olympic strategy, Steve Roush, the U.S. Olympic Committee’s chief of sports performance, has said, “Our athletes know they’ve got to do better—I think our athletes and coaches are embracing the challenge.”45 With such a lopsided emphasis being placed by Chinese offi cials on women’s sports, the United States and other nations will be forced to strengthen their women’s sports programs in order to keep pace with the competition. I have highlighted several different processes through which East Asian women have had signifi cant infl uence on the Olympic Games over the past eighty years, and it is evident that their impact will continue to be felt in the future. While the history of their participation in competitive sporting events goes back beyond 1928, when the fi rst Asian woman took part in the Olympics, the Games have markedly shaped the evolution of women’s elite sports in the region. Moreover, the Olympics served as one of the fi rst modern stages upon which Asian women were lauded as heroes. Not only have these women continued to show a strong presence in the Games, but also in several East Asian countries female Olympians now outnumber males. The national hope for medals has now fallen squarely on the shoulders of many of these women. This challenges the notion that East Asia is still bound by Confucian ideals of men being superior to women, or that weakness and frailty are attributes to which Asian women aspire.46 While many inequalities between the genders remain present in East Asian countries, it is important to recognize that universal statements regarding 178 The East Asian Olympiads the place of women in society can no longer be easily made. Success at the Olympic Games has contributed to this redefi nition of women’s national responsibility: rather than playing supporting roles to their male counterparts, East Asian women are now seen as key fi gures to victory on the global stage of the Olympic Games.

NOTES 1 Nineteen women competed in these three events at the 1900 Olympic Games. See Jane Leder, Grace & Glory: A Century of Women in the Olympics (Chicago: Triumph Books, 1996), p. 10. 2 Kevin B. Wamsley and Gertrud Pfi ster, “Olympic Men and Women: The Politics of Gender in the Modern Games” in Global Olympics: Historical and Sociological Studies of the Modern Games, ed. Kevin Young and Kevin B. Wamsley (New York: Elsevier, 2005), p. 112. 3 According to sports historian Allen Guttmann, “modern sports” can be distinguished from their premodern antecedents by the following seven criteria: 1) secularism, or being unrelated to a transcendent realm of the sacred; 2) equality, or that the rules be the same for all contestants; 3) bureaucratization, or some sort of administrative structure; 4) specialization, such as specialized roles and playing positions for participants; 5) rationalization, or a “means- ends point of view” whereby the rules are scrutinized and revised; 6) quantifi cation, or the use of numbers to qualify achievement; and 7) an obsession with records, resulting from the quantifi cation of results. See Allen Guttmann and Lee Thompson, Japanese Sports: A History (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2001), p. 3. 4 Susan Brownell, Training the Body for China: Sports in the Moral Order of the People’s Republic (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), pp. 224–225. 5 In her 1307 memoir, Confessions of Lady Nijo¯, the author writes that a priest suggested that eight court ladies should dress in the kemari attire to play a game, saying, “That certainly would be a rare sight.” Guttmann and Thompson, Japanese Sports, p. 30. 6 In his discussion of female characters in martial arts movies, Rong Cai writes that, “the woman warrior and her representational model, the knight- errant, are stock images in the martial arts (wuxia) world, a prominent part of China’s literary tradition dating back to the writings of Han Fei (280– 233 BC) and Sima Qian (186–145 BC).” Rong Cai, “Gender Imaginations in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and the Wuxia World,” Positions: East Asia Cultures Critique 13:2 (Fall 2005), p. 445. In the case of Japan, the eighth- century historical record book of ancient Japan, the Nihon Shoki, describes the Sun Goddess Amaterasu as bearing swords, a bow, and quivers of arrows. G. Cameron Hurst III, Armed Martial Arts of Japan: Swordsmanship and Archery (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), p. 107. 7 Jinxia Dong, Women, Sport and Society in Modern China: Holding Up More Than Half the Sky (Portland, OR: Frank Cass, 2003), p. 11. 8 Dong, Women, Sport and Society in Modern China, p.12. 9 For example, in England in 1910 it was claimed that athletics were likely to do irreparable damage to the adolescent girl, and that hockey, specifi cally, could S(up)porting Roles 179

disable women from breastfeeding. Jennifer A. Hargreaves, “Victorian Familism and the Formative Years of Female Sport” in From “Fair Sex” to Feminism: Sport and the Socialization of Women in the Industrial and Post-Industrial Eras, ed. J.A. Mangan and Roberta J. Park (London: Routledge, 2004), p. 135. 10 When Chinese organizers took over the National Games, women’s events were included. Brownell, Training the Body, p. 225. 11 Anamizu Tsuneo, Hito toshite onna toshite: Nikaido¯ Tokuyo no ikikata (Tokyo: Fumaido¯ shuppan, 2001), p. 18. 12 Wamsley and Pfi ster, “Olympic Men and Women,” p. 113. 13 It is important to note that Japan had already begun making inroads on the international sporting circuit before Hitomi Kinue made her appearance at the 1926 Women’s Olympics. Japan was the fi rst Asian nation to send delegates to the Olympic Games, after becoming the fi rst Asian country to have a representative on the International Olympic Committee (Kano¯ Jigoro¯, the so-called “inventor of Jud ¯ o¯”). Two Japanese men, a sprinter and a marathon runner, represented Japan in the Fifth Olympic Games in Stockholm, Sweden in 1912. Japanese Olympic Committee (JOC) Database, http://www.joc.or.jp/ database/search_top.asp; hereafter referred to as JOC Database. 14 Allen Guttmann, Women’s Sports: A History (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), p. 168. 15 The fi ve events held in women’s track and fi eld in Amsterdam were the 100m race, 4x100m relay, 800m race, discus throw, and high jump. Robert Markel et al., The Women’s Sports Encyclopedia (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1997), p. 103. 16 Oda Mikio and Toda Jun, eds., Honoo no supurinta¯ – Hitomi Kinue jiden (Okayama: Sanyo¯ shinbunsha, 1983), p. 257. 17 This race was subsequently scratched from the Olympic program, as the IOC perceived it to be a horrifi c catastrophe when the women, exhausted from their race, collapsed to the ground after crossing the fi nish line. The women’s 800-meter race was not reinstated to the Olympic program until 1960. Wamsley and Pfi ster, “Olympic Men and Women,” p. 113. 18 Prior to Hitomi’s appearance at the Amsterdam Olympics in 1928, Olympic medals had been won by women from the United States, Canada, Germany, France, Bohemia (Czechoslovakia), Great Britain, Italy, Austria, the Netherlands, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and Australia, International Olympic Committee Database, http://www.olympic.org; hereafter referred to as IOC Database. One reason that the Olympics became more popular in Japan following the 1928 Olympics had to do with the fact that they were publicized in 1928 far more than in previous years. While Japan had been sending athletes to the Olympic Games since 1912, no Japanese athletes had won any medals until 1928. 19 JOC Database. 20 Hy o¯do¯ Hideko, Yu¯ki, namida, soshite ai: Maehata wa nido ganbarimashita (Tokyo: Goma shobo¯, 1990), p. 31. 21 Hy o¯do¯ Hideko, Maehata ganbare (Tokyo: Kin no hoshisha, 1981), pp. 127– 128. 22 NHK reporter Kasai Sansei traveled to Berlin to report Maehata’s race live from the poolside, where the majority of fans were cheering loudly for hometown 180 The East Asian Olympiads

German favorite, Martha Genenger. Screaming to be heard over the crowd, Kasai’s memorable broadcast went as follows: “Maehata and Genenger are side-by-side. Ah, Maehata pulls ahead! She’s in the lead! She’s a little bit ahead. 50 meters down. 100 meters down. 50 meters left to go. Maehata is a little bit ahead! Ah, Genenger is coming. Come on, come on! Maehata is in danger, she’s in danger! Go for it! Maehata go for it! They turned, the swimmers just now turned and Maehata holds onto a slight lead. C’mon Maehata. Go for it! [repeated four times] 40 meters left to go. [repeated four times] Maehata is ahead! Maehata is ahead! Genenger is coming, it’s just a very small lead by Maehata. Go for it Maehata! [repeated four times] 25 meters left to go! Maehata’s lead is small, it’s very small! . . . Maehata! Go for it Maehata! [repeated 11 times] Maehata is in the lead! [repeated six times] Five meters left to go! Four meters left! Three meters, two meters. Maehata is ahead! Maehata has won! [repeated 18 times] By a small margin Maehata is the champion! Thank you, Ms. Maehata, the Japanese fl ag will fl y today. Thank you! For the fi rst time in the history of women’s swimming the Japanese fl ag will fl y.” Sakaue Yasuhiro, Kenryoku so¯chi toshite no supo¯tsu (Tokyo: Ko¯dansha, 1998), pp. 220–221. 23 Brownell, Training the Body, p. 43. 24 At both of these venues, like at early Olympic Games, women’s events were included as “exhibition events” before they were included as part of the “offi cial” competition. Medals were not awarded for these exhibition events. At the Far Eastern Games, women’s volleyball and tennis were included, while at the National Games women’s basketball, softball, and volleyball were included as exhibition events. See Andrew Morris, Marrow of the Nation: A History of Sport and Physical Culture in Republican China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), pp. 87–88; and Brownell, Training the Body, p. 43. 25 One of the stated goals of authoritarian Governor General Minami Jiro¯ (1936–1942) was to eradicate all differences between the citizens of the Japa- nese archipelago and the population of colonized Korea. Thus he set out to indoctrinate Koreans under the slogans Nai-Sen ittai (“Japan and Korea as one body”) and Nissen yu¯wa (“Harmony between Japan and Korea”). An educational reform involving the forceful imposition of Japanese educational values and consciousness was central to Minami’s impossible goals of total assimilation. Carter J. Eckert et al., Korea Old and New: A History (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990), pp. 314–315. 26 Sohn Kee-chung (competing under the Japanese name Son Kitei) was the gold medal winner and Nam Seung-yong (competing under the name Nan Shoryu) won the bronze in Berlin in 1936. For details on this controversial Olympic moment, see Richard D. Mandell, The Nazi Olympics (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1971), pp. 215–220; Guttmann and Thompson, Japanese Sports, pp. 124–125; and Hal Drake, “The Conquerors Won Thanks to the Conquered,” Sports Illustrated, No. 20 (May 20, 1968), pp. 95–96. 27 IOC Database. 28 IOC Database. The South Korean women won the bronze medal in the volleyball competition in Montreal in 1976. 29 Volleyball came to Japan via the YMCA, which was in part because William Morgan, a member of that organization, had invented the sport in 1896. S(up)porting Roles 181

It was fi rst played at the Tokyo YMCA in 1913 and was included on the program of the Far Eastern Games held in Osaka in 1917. At the sixth Asian Games in 1923, women’s volleyball was included as an exhibition event, where the Japanese knocked out the Chinese team. Guttmann and Thompson, Japanese Sports, pp. 78–79. 30 Women had been playing team sports since the end of the nineteenth century, but volleyball was the fi rst to be included on the program of major national and international sporting competitions in East Asia. Women’s swimming relays had been part of the Olympic program since 1912, and running relays and artistic gymnastics (for which a team score was received) were introduced in 1928. However, volleyball was the fi rst women’s team sport at the Olympics whereby all players were competing together at the same time. Several other women’s team sports were subsequently added to the Olympic program, including basketball (1976), handball (1976), fi eld hockey (1980), synchronized swimming (1984), soccer (1996), softball (1996), ice hockey (1998), and water polo (2000). IOC Database. 31 Moreover, one of the competitions in which no team from East Asia won a medal was at the 1980 Games in Moscow, when China, Japan, and South Korea took part in the U.S.-led boycott of the Olympics. IOC Database. 32 While China had sent its fi rst athlete to the Olympic Games in 1932 (Liu Changchun, as discussed by Morris in this volume), sharp disagreements between the People’s Republic (PRC), the Republic of China (ROC), and the IOC resulted in decades of patchy participation by Chinese athletes at the Olympic Games. In 1951, two separate Olympic Committees were established: one representing the ROC and backed by the IOC, and the other representing the PRC. From 1956 until 1980, the PRC did not take part in the Games, and though the ROC took part, they won only two medals in this two-and-a-half decade period (including one by female hurdler Ji Zheng in 1968). Brownell, Training the Body, pp. 109–110; Morris, Marrow of the Nation, pp. 238–239; IOC Database. 33 Dong, Women, Sport and Society in Modern China, pp. 102–103 34 According to Dong Jinxia, “To a large extent drug-taking in sport is associated with the Westernization of Chinese society, the winning-oriented sports policy, and the personal desire for fame, wealth and success: the mentality of winning at all costs is the main cause.” She also asserts that in the late 1990s, the Chinese government took drastic steps to crack down on the use of performance-enhancing drugs by athletes. Dong, Women, Sport and Society in Modern China, p. 17. Moreover, Jacques Rogge, the IOC president since 2001, is a surgeon by training and has made one of his main platforms the abolition of doping among Olympians. 35 The Asian countries with more female than male delegates at the Athens Olympics were China, Hong Kong, Japan, North Korea, and Singapore. The only other nations with more female than male representation were Romania, Jamaica, El Salvador, Nigeria, Kenya, Senegal, and Canada. Spreadsheet of Olympic participation fi gures compiled by IOC, available upon request from the author. 36 In 2004, China sent 136 men and 248 women to Athens. In 2000 they sent 91 men and 180 women to Sydney. In 1996, 111 men and 187 women competed 182 The East Asian Olympiads

in Atlanta, and in 1992, the fi rst year in which women outnumbered men, they sent 117 men and 128 women to the Barcelona Games. Spreadsheet of Olympic participation fi gures compiled by IOC, available upon request from the author. 37 Delegates in 1896 came from the United States, several European countries, and Australia, which was still a part of the British Empire at that time. IOC Database. The Chilean Olympic committee contends that a Chilean athlete who was living in Europe also took part in the 1896 Games in Athens, but no offi cial records document his participation. See http://www.coch.cl/ museo.htm for details. 38 The fi rst Japanese delegation to the Olympic Games in Stockholm (1912) consisted of two men. By the next Games in Antwerp (1920, the 1916 Games were cancelled due to World War I), the delegation had grown to fi fteen. In 1924 Japan sent nineteen athletes to Paris, and in 1928 this number more than doubled to forty-three at the Amsterdam Olympics. It more than tripled by 1932, when Japan sent 131 athletes to compete in Los Angeles. JOC Database. 39 Japan would also later become the fi rst non-Western nation to win a bid to host the Olympics in 1940, and the fi rst to host both Summer and Winter Games in 1964 and 1972, respectively (see Abel’s essay in this volume). 40 A similar phenomenon was seen more recently in Japan after fi gure skater Arakawa Shizuka’s gold medal win at the 2006 Winter Olympics in Torino. Her victory set into motion a fl ood of commercial goods and services related to her specifi cally and fi gure skating generally. Ice skating rinks were routinely fi lled beyond capacity, and the sales of fi gure skates increased by over 20 percent following the Olympics. See “The Arakawa Effect,” Web Japan, April 21, 2006. 41 Hitomi Kinue. Joshi supo¯ tsu o kataru (Tokyo: Yumani shobo¯, 2000), pp. 87–89. 42 The Victorian mindset that remained well into the twentieth century was that “the athletic girl who beat the odds and caught a husband was liable to have damaged her reproductive organs and thus to have been rendered permanently infertile.” Guttmann, Women’s Sports, p. 95. 43 Even though the IOC bans this kind of point system, the general public in China discusses which country is “beating” another country based on the tally of medals kept by the Chinese media. Brownell, Training the Body, p. 301. 44 Swimming and track and fi eld events in which one individual can win numerous medals have been particular targets of Project 119. See Frank Fitzpatrick, “A Warning About China: U.S. Offi cials Say the Strong Host Team Could Win the Most Olympic Medals,” Philadelphia Inquirer, April 16, 2008; and Mark Starr, “Olympian Ambitions: For Beijing, a Smooth Games Will Take a Lot of Things – Including Winning More Than Anyone Else,” Newsweek (U.S. Edition, January 7, 2008), p. 56. 45 Fitzpatrick, “A Warning About China.” 46 In the Confucian order, society is organized by a hierarchy of superior- inferior relationships, in which parents are superior to children, men are superior to women, and rulers superior to subjects. John King Fairbank and Merle Goldman, China: A New History, enlarged edition (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998), p. 51. 12 Sports Mega-Events and the Shaping of Urban Modernity in East Asia

John Horne

INTRODUCTION1 ecent sociological research and investigative journalism have Rtended to look at the workings of International Sports Organiza- tions (ISOs) and International Sports Federations (IFs) in examining the background to sports mega-events, such as the Summer Olympic Games and the Football World Cup.2 In addition to the International Olympic Committee (IOC) and Federation of International Football Associations (FIFA), media corporations, transnational sponsors, politicians, members of bid teams, and national sport organizations have been considered as constituent parts of the networks of power and infl uence that produce sports mega-events. Both critics of and boosters for such events now conduct research into the organization and networks surrounding them and their impacts, legacies, and outcomes. With an interest in the production of the consumption of sport spectacles this chapter considers a less researched aspect: the agents and institutions that design and build the material infrastructure for sport and sports mega-events, the stadia and facilities. This chapter digs below the surface of the reifi ed world of the material infrastructure of global cities to ask questions about the cre- ators of the emblematic buildings and the leisure and sport spaces constructed to assist in the pursuit or maintenance of “world-class” status. As Ren Xuefei suggests, “social scientists have just begun to explore the linkage between architectural mega-projects and nation-building practices in global or globalizing cities.”3 Previous research has identifi ed the stadium as a site for multidis- ciplinary investigations into the meanings of urban leisure, and the economy and politics of sports spaces.4 Here my focus is on the builders, developers, designers, engineers, and especially architects responsible 184 The East Asian Olympiads for the production of the material infrastructure—the stadia and sports facilities—that are increasingly required to be in some way as iconic as the people who design them.5 Reviews of the impact of sports mega-events on the urban environment have noted at least three vested interests involved in their production: sport, corporate, and urban. We agree with Harry Hiller that it is important to consider the controversial nature of urban developments related to sports mega-events. “Legacies” should not be considered to be simply positive ones.6 Hence with a focus following Hiller on “outcomes,” rather than impacts, or the warm word “legacy,” various studies have considered different phases and patterns of urban development that have resulted from the Olympic Games.7 This chapter has the following structure: in the next section we briefl y consider the production of the material infrastructure and particularly the political economy of architecture and architects. Following this we outline the growth of what Sklair calls the “transnational capitalist class” (TCC) and the place of celebrity or signature architects or “starchitects” in it.8 Next we consider the increasing attraction of hosting sports mega-events and then specifi cally the hosting of sports- megas in East Asia. We conclude that architectural and urban legacies remain contested features of the urban environment in East Asian societies as elsewhere.

ARCHITECTURE AND THE PRODUCTION OF THE MATERIAL INFRASTRUCTURE OF SPORTS MEGA-EVENTS Until recently architects and architecture in general have not been a signifi cant topic for sociological analysis. Partly this has been supported by the view that architecture is an artistic practice, the creation of individual genius, and therefore cannot be adequately understood by social theories, especially perhaps Marxist theory obsessed with rigid economic causes. It is possible however, as Garry Stevens has demonstrated, to produce a sound understanding of the social world of architecture and architectural education utilizing the theories of Pierre Bourdieu.9 The architectural “fi eld” produces cultivated individuals with distinctive styles and tastes, but this architectural creativity is derived from a social process. Like other artistic practices contemporary architecture can be examined in Marxist and sociological terms by looking at the social relations of production within which it emerges and operates. These approaches pay attention to the institutions through which architects are educated, how building designs are produced, and hence how architecture is socially constructed. The production and marketing of architectural icons and signature architects or “starchitects,” has grown since the 1980s. Whilst architecture may have an existence independent of those paying for it, it is unquestionably the case that “architecture is about power.”10 As Stevens notes, “The fi eld of architecture is responsible for producing those parts of the built environment that the dominant classes use Sports Mega-Events 185 to justify their domination of the social order. Buildings of power, buildings of state, buildings of worship, buildings to awe and impress.”11 Politically, architecture tells a story about those who determine that something is built. Whether democratic or totalitarian a regime utilizes architecture as a tool of “statecraft.”12 Pertaining to the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games, Carolyn Marvin notes that architecture has “long been at the heart of Chinese statecraft.”13 A brief consideration of the political economy of architecture further reveals that whilst architects design buildings they do not do so under circumstances completely of their own choosing. Architects are involved in the construction of 30 to 50 percent of the contract value of buildings in the developed world.14 Traditionally it has been considered that there are three types of architectural fi rm: “strong delivery,” “strong service,” and “strong ideas” fi rms.15 The fi rst type is highly commercial and they rarely win awards but build a lot (in the case of sports arenas and stadia this very much applies to the fi rm HOK SVE).16 The second includes architectural practices such as Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill (or SOM) which designed Canary Wharf in London and is currently designing the Freedom Tower in Manhattan. The third type of fi rm contains well-known “starchitects” such as Frank Gehry, Richard Meier, and Norman Foster. Leslie Sklair has noted that entry level to the Fortune Global 500— the annual list of the world’s largest transnational corporations (TNCs) identifi ed by Fortune magazine—was U.S.$10 billion in 2003, but no architectural fi rm reached anywhere near this fi gure.17 Even strong delivery fi rms, that produce a lot of buildings but few iconic structures, operate in consortia chasing mega-projects (here defi ned as construction projects estimated to involve expenditures over $1 billion). Currently the two main locations for most mega-projects are the United States and China. In the next fi ve years the United States has an estimated 150 projects that provide the bulk of opportunities for engineering, architectural, and construction fi rms.18 Only one of these is specifi cally sport related, where eight professional sport franchises in New York City plan stadium redevelopments or building worth an estimated $4 billion.19 Economic growth in Pacifi c-Asia (especially stimulated by China’s building boom since the 1990s) has encouraged more celebrity, signature or starchitects to operate globally.20 Starchitects have taken on an increased role in planning and building in cities in the Asia- Pacifi c. The so-called “Global Intelligence Corps” (GIC) including architectural celebrities have been used to brand local developments by indigenous developers, politicians, and bureaucrats, who thus in turn gain symbolic capital by association.21 As Anne-Marie Broudehoux notes, since the death of Mao Zedong Beijing has been “turning itself into a scenographic venue for the hosting of world class media events and the staging of grand urban spectacles.”22 This works in sport as much as any other form of spectacle, as we will see below.23 Production relations in architecture can be understood, as Ulrich Beck once put it, as “politics with bricks and mortar,” in the midst 186 The East Asian Olympiads of global-local processes.24 In the contemporary globalizing world architects—and especially starchitects producing iconic buildings— have increasingly become useful to what Leslie Sklair refers to as the transnational capitalist class (TCC).25

ICONIC ARCHITECTURE AND THE TRANSNATIONAL CAPITALIST CLASS Leslie Sklair argues that the emergence of contemporary “iconic architecture” (IA) is a result of transformations in the production, marketing, and reception of architecture, which is itself a consequence of capitalist globalization. IA refers to two things, both buildings and spaces that are famous because of the architects who design them and also buildings and spaces with special symbolic/aesthetic signifi cance attached to them. Architects can be iconic in this sense, hence the media label “starchitect.” Before the 1950s—which in Sklair’s formu- lation is the pre-globalization era—the interests of the state and/or religion drove IA. In the globalization era he argues that the dominant force driving iconic architecture is “the transnational capitalist class.”26 Architecture has been internationalized as its source of patronage and sponsorship has altered.27 Modes of production and associated ideologies increasingly shape architectural design rather than the nation state.28 Globalized production aided by new technologies of communication and design in addition to an already internationalized profession, formalized by the formation of the International Union of Architects (UIA) in 1948, led to the growth of architecture as a global cultural form. The 1950s and 1960s saw the building of American-style hotels throughout the world, prompting familiar debates about homog- enization and plurality as a result of globalization (although this is not my concern here). The TCC comprises people with globalizing as well as localizing agendas, who have a home in more than one place, and who have a cosmopolitan outlook. The TCC seeks to secure the conditions under which its interests and largely capitalist interests are furthered in global and local contexts. The TCC has four fractions: corporate, state, technical, and consumerist. The corporate fraction own and control major transnational corporations and their local affi liates. In architecture these are the major architectural, architecture-engineering, and architecture-developer-real-estate fi rms listed in such magazines as World Architecture. As I have suggested, the revenues of these companies are relatively small compared to fi rms in the Fortune 500, and the number of starchitects with the biggest fi rms is also small, but they have great signifi cance for the built environment and their cultural importance for cities outweighs their fi nancial muscle. This is one reason why I believe Holger Preuss is mistaken to ignore the role and value of architectural design in sports mega-events.29 Nor is it enough without further Sports Mega-Events 187

investigation to say that the impacts of sports mega-events on urban, spatial, architectural, and built form of cities (including negative ones such as mass evictions) are “obvious.”30 The state fraction of the TCC includes politicians and bureaucrats who decide what gets built where and how changes to the built environment are regulated (at central, regional, and municipal levels of government). The technical TCC are professionals involved in the design of structural features and services of new buildings, as well as the education of students and the public in architectural discourse. The consumerist TCC are the merchants and media responsible for the marketing and the consumption of architecture.31 This relates to sports facilities and stadia as much as any other public building. Who builds these monuments? How do they make their buildings mean something? The following section illustrates this by describing the building of iconic architecture and the involvement of signature architects (starchitects) at selected Olympic Games.

THE INCREASING ATTRACTION OF HOSTING SPORTS MEGA-EVENTS There is nothing new about commercial relations and sports and sport mega-events, nor about relations between sport and politics. What has happened is that the way in which sport and sports events are related to both economic and political processes has changed. Sport and sports mega-events, especially the Olympics since the 1980s, have become more commercial and implicated in market relationships. Sports and sports mega-events are experiential commodities and have many attractions for both corporate and governmental agencies seeking a presence in the globalized world. Sports mega-events are also part of the promotional culture of neoliberal capitalism. Hence an increased supply of spectacle creates opportunities to attract inward investment and generate consumption spending. The allure of hosting sports mega-events in particular has increased greatly in the past twenty-fi ve years. When Los Angeles hosted the Summer Olympics in 1984 there were no competitor nations. Nagoya was the only rival to Seoul to host the Summer Games in 1988. Clearly the signifi cant alteration in the global geo-political landscape—the collapse of the Soviet Union, the highly symbolic but material demolition of the Berlin Wall, and the associated break up of the East European Bloc of nations—at the end of the 1980s has helped this “mega” develop into the position it now holds in the global imagination and the global economy of appearances. Cities are spatial manifestations of broader social forces and struggles. The built environment and architecture play their part as both metric and motor of change. In the West for the past 250 years the urban environment has been created by industrial capitalist modernity. Space has been restructured in line with changes in capitalism. “Selling places is now a well-known feature of contemporary urban societies.”32 In the past twenty-fi ve years most of the developed and developing world, including emerging economies such as India and 188 The East Asian Olympiads

China, have joined in the competitive marketing of places as social and economic opportunities seeking capital investment. Places have become commodities and “converted into products to be sold in competitive markets.”33 Related to this is the globalization of what soci- ologist John Urry calls the “tourist gaze”: “all sorts of places (indeed almost everywhere) have come to construct themselves as objects of the tourist gaze . . . not as centres of production or symbols of power but as sites of pleasure.”34 Hence although a Starbucks coffee franchise was forced to close in its Forbidden City, UNESCO World Heritage site, location in central Beijing in 2006 (after some tens of thousands of people campaigned against its presence), just around the corner from the coffee shop was a more legitimate retail outlet: a Beijing 2008 Olympic Games offi cial store. “Mega-events” or “Megas” have been defi ned as “large-scale cultural (including commercial and sporting) events, which have a dramatic character, mass popular appeal and international signifi cance.”35 Sports mega-events are a genre of mega-event contrasting with world’s fairs and international expositions, for example. Three features of the sports mega-event “genre” are:

• They are one-off, large-scale, short-term, mediated and (in the case of the Olympic Games for the past twenty-fi ve years) sponsored.36 • They are signifi cant for the host location (city, region, nation). • They act as “lightning rods,” accelerating both connections with modernity/global fl ows of trade, fi nance, media, technology, ideas, and people, and internal policy decisions about developing the built environment in certain urban areas. This includes trade in security and surveillance technology and the militarization of sports spaces.37

Researchers have noted that the attraction of hosting sports mega-events has grown since the 1980s because it enables multiple sets of agendas to be addressed. The main ones are place promotion, internal (social, cultural, and economic) development, and global status. The hosting of a major event enables symbolic as well as material nation building to take place. Short identiﬁ es four modalities of global cities: transportation hubs and networks; global cultures and cosmopolitanism; global imaginings and place marketing; and global spectacles, signature architects, and cosmopolitan urban semiotics.38 The Summer Olym- pic Games are “the mega-event with the ability to create, reinforce, and consolidate global city status” as it condenses these modalities.39 The Summer Olympics are “global spectacles, national campaigns, and city enterprises” at one and the same time.40 Cities, regional areas, as well as the whole nation can be branded as “modern,” “civilized,” and “world class” to both domestic and international populations. Social, cultural, and economic development—in the shape of developments in civil society and urban culture, the provision Sports Mega-Events 189 of state of the art sports facilities for elite athletes, and potentially improved mass participation, and general urban (re-)generation and the associated prospect of attracting larger numbers of tourists—are also seen as important facets of any mega-event. Following a successful event, there is the possibility to establish greater regional or even global pre- eminence, an enhanced economic and political status, and this may be associated with either the increased marketization or democratization of daily life.

NARRATIVES OF MODERNITY AND SPORTS MEGA-EVENTS IN EAST ASIA As well as different genres of mega-event there are different orders of sports “megas,” ranked according to size, scope, appeal. At the head of the list are the Summer Olympic Games (held in East Asia in Tokyo 1964, Seoul 1988, and Beijing 2008) and the FIFA Football World Cup (co-hosted by South Korea-Japan in 2002). Next in terms of rank are the Winter Olympic Games (held in Sapporo 1972 and Nagano 1998), the IAAF World Athletics Championship (Osaka 2007), and the Commonwealth Games (Kuala Lumpur 1998, Delhi 2010). At regional level and in third rank order in terms of audience reach and appeal, are such events as the Asian Games (Tokyo 1958, Seoul 1986, Beijing 1990, Hiroshima 1994, Busan 2002, Doha 2006, Guang- zhou 2010, Incheon 2014) and the Asian Football Association Cup (China 2004, Indonesia-Malaysia-Thailand-Vietnam 2007). Despite the arguments of boosters for staging them being expressed in terms of economic returns the economic outcomes of sports mega-events are normally much less than expected. Cities with pre-existing soft assets attach much less value to one-off megas than cities hoping to develop them.41 Since the Olympic Games shares many of the elements of (Western) modernity—industrialization, capitalism, urbanization, the consolida- tion of the nation-state, secularization, colonization, rationalization, individualization, and globalization—each of the East Asian Summer Olympics can be seen as an opportunity for power play in this context. Japan has been awarded the hosting of the Summer and Win- ter Olympic Games more than any other non-Western nation (1940, 1964, 1972, 1998). Tokyo 1964 saw “modern ‘exotic’ Japan normal- ized” according to Collins.42 The Winter Olympics in Nagano in 1998 meanwhile was a blend of “eclectic exoticism,” evoking difference and sameness in equal measure.43 Seoul 1988 was conceived as a reconcili- ation games. Beijing 2008 has been viewed as part of China’s grand “coming out party” as a global economic and political power. Staging a mega-event can thus be seen as an opportunity to catch up or modernize (politics), an opportunity to challenge (Western) modernity (protest), and an opportunity to project distinctive forms of hybrid modernity (promotion). Each mega-event staged in East Asia involved elements of each of these. 190 The East Asian Olympiads

Table 1. East Asian Candidate and Host Cities for Summer Olympic Games 1960–2016 Year Candidate City Host City 1960 Tokyo 1964 Tokyo 1988 Nagoya Seoul 2000 Beijing 2008 Osaka Beijing 2016 Tokyo

Table 2. East Asian Candidate and Host Cities for Winter Olympic Games 1968–2014 Year Candidate City Host City 1968 Sapporo 1972 Sapporo 1984 Sapporo 1998 Nagano 2010 Pyeongchang 2014 Pyeongchang 2018 Pyeongchang To be decided at IOC Session in Durban, South Africa, July 2011

In addition to the successful bids for the Summer and Winter Olympics (outlined in Tables 1 and 2), Tokyo applied to be host of the Summer Olympic Games in 1960, Nagoya in 1988, and Beijing in 2000. Tokyo placed third in the voting (above Chicago, but behind Rio de Janeiro and Madrid) for the 2016 Summer Olympic Games. Sapporo was a candidate city for the 1968 and 1984 Winter Olympics, whilst Pyeongchang has been unsuccessful twice in recent bids, for 2010 and 2014. It is currently one of three candidate cities, along with Annecy in France and Munich in Germany, competing to host the 2018 edition of the Winter Olympics. At the Tokyo Summer Olympic Games in 1964, Tange Kenzo¯’s gymnasium buildings, built on what had been known in the immediate postwar period as “Washington Heights Occupation Forces housing estate,” as it housed U.S. Army personnel, announced to the world that Japan had risen from the aftermath of the Pacifi c War and occupation by the Allied Forces.44 The president of the Tokyo Organizing Committee, Yasukawa Daigoro¯, declared that the Tokyo Olympics “will not only be a display of sportsmanship by the world’s athletes, but will also highlight the continuing efforts of the Japanese people as a worthy member of the world family of nations.”45 Tange’s gymnasium Sports Mega-Events 191 buildings, alongside the new technology of the Shinkansen or “bullet train,” allowed Japan to project national self-confi dence to the rest of the world. Tange had appealed for funding from the Japanese Treasury: “Since the Olympics would be the fi rst major international event Japan had sponsored, half way measures would not do.”46 Great importance was placed on the symbolic meaning of the buildings. Tange wrote, “I wanted the space to have an exhilarating infl uence on the people participating in sports events within it, while promoting a sense of excitement and union with the spectators. . . .”47 Yoyogi Park, the location chosen for the Olympic buildings, as a former major location for the occupying U.S. troops, would be transformed and on the ground a stun- ning new building would stand. Construction began in January 1963, barely eighteen months before the start of the Games. The roof design adapted the principle used in the construction of suspension bridges to fi t a suspension membrane roof (a technique that was utilized again for the 1972 Munich Olympic Stadium by the engineer Frei Otto). When Tange, in collaboration with engineer Tsuboi Yoshikatsu, put the technology into practice in 1964, however, it became the largest tensile structure in the world. Moreover as “the roof-ridge of the Olympic building drew inspiration from the tile-capped ridges of Buddhist temples,” the building linked new technology with older traditions. Inter- national symbols were developed out of culturally specifi c materials in both Tokyo in 1964 and Seoul in 1988.48 Yoyogi Sports Centre was considered “modern with Japanese culture.”49 The lines of the Chamsil stadium designed by Korean architect Soo Geun Kim and built for the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul imitated the curves of a Joseon Dynasty porcelain vase. The city of Beijing has been transformed enormously since 1989.50 The focus of urban redevelopment has gradually shifted from the center around Tiananmen Square to the north of the city and the site of the 2008 Olympics. Broudehoux shows how the city’s development in the past thirty years has been driven by a larger national agenda to consolidate a new political regime and compete in global marketplaces for capital investment and economic infl uence. During this time Beijing has come under the infl uence of local governmental boosters and private (mainly foreign) development interests that operate according to the same patterns that “growth coalitions” have exhibited in cities around the world.51 This has lead to the trivializing and commercializing of local history, the fragmentation and privatization of the public realm, and the catering to business elites and tourists at the expense of local communities and less empowered members of society. Hence key members of what Deyan Sudjic calls the “fl ying circus of the perpetually jet-lagged” were invited on to the thirteen-strong jury that judged the competition to design the Olympic Stadium.52 The winners, Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron, also designed the Allianz Arena football stadium in Munich, the Tate Modern in London, and the Forum Building in Bar- celona. Sudjic deemed their “Bird’s Nest” stadium the most distinctive Olympic stadium since “Munich’s Tefl on-coated tents.”53 192 The East Asian Olympiads

In addition to the stadium, nearby is the National Aquatics Center (or “Water Cube”), designed by Australian architectural fi rm PTW, and Digital Beijing, the information control and data centre for the Games. Terminal 3 of Beijing Airport, designed by Lord (Norman) Foster (who also helped design the new Wembley Stadium in London with HOK), the National Theatre, and the headquarters of China Central Televi- sion (CCTV) by Rem Koolhaas complete the list of some of the most iconic architectural structures that have been built in Beijing since the beginning of the 2000s and the awarding of the Olympic Games. The Beijing Games may also contribute to the coach potato syndrome as many corporate sponsors and national partners offer products that contribute to sedentary lifestyles, and has been called the “beer Olym- pics” by some people in China as three beverage companies are sponsoring it. It is clear that sports and other mega-events have long provided opportunities for nations to signal emergence or re-emergence on the international stage. Whilst there are and can only be a few “global cities,” attempts to promote locations are commonplace in the past fi fteen to twenty years. Whether as new hubs for business and fi nance or as tourist destinations, cities increasingly build and utilize iconic architecture and urban spaces to fl ag their presence in the world. Sports mega-events play their part in this competition for global promotion and branding. But this is only one of their contributions. As Peter Eis- inger notes, the “politics of bread and circuses” is about building cities for the wealthy “visitor class”; iconic stadium construction is about fl agging transnational places and creating symbolic capital to attract middle and upper middle class visitors.54 Leslie Sklair argues that “starchitects” assist the TCC through the construction of transnationally attractive consumption spaces and the production of iconic architectural (IA) forms. Since the 1980s starchitects have been invited to build iconic buildings and consumption spaces and the ideological role of these refl ects other processes going on in cities. This includes the re-imagining/imagineering of cities as consumption centers, rather then centers of production; the building of urban entertainment destinations (UEDs) and other themed environments; and the construction of spaces for the consumption of experiential commodities, such as sports and recreational events, concerts, and other commercial gatherings, which include stadiums or “tradiums” often and increasingly named after a sponsor rather than their location in the city.55 William Saunders suggests “Spectacle is the primary manifestation of the commodifi cation or commercialization of design.”56 This has involved a simulated de-McDonaldization in some places and the creation of ballparks as theme parks.57 In addition, this process has seen architects become brands in their own right, creating “architainment” for some.58 One of the distinctive features of the Olympic Games is that its brand as a sports mega-event, apparently untainted by the values of commerce, is its greatest commercial asset. The IOC still regulates overt Sports Mega-Events 193

commercial advertising in the arenas where the sports events occur, even if for the past twenty to twenty-fi ve years it has developed the tri- partite sponsor arrangements (known as The Olympic Programme, or TOP).59 Aside from corporate global sponsors and local partners, it offers host locations the opportunity to re-brand themselves in front of some of the largest television audiences in the world. Iconic architecture is one way of doing this. The Olympics can also be seen as creating Disneyland style “theme parks.” For the so-called “best games ever” (Sydney 2000), the Bligh Lobb Partnership, with HOK SVE and Rod Sheard as principal architect, created Stadium Australia (subsequently named Telstra Stadium, and now ANZ Stadium after sponsors). HOK SVE is the world leader in stadium construction and design, and Sheard has become a major consultant on stadium design, potentially the world’s fi rst “stadium starchitect.” Some architects, however, can be producers of alternative, protest, hybrid, and more locally relevant meanings and identities. Ai Wei Wei, consultant designer on the Beijing “Bird’s Nest,” project referred to it as a “public relations sham” and the 2008 Games as “a pretend smile.”60 Shortly before the event in August 2008, he clari- fi ed his position toward the stadium: “I don’t criticize the stadium. I criticize the government’s use of the Olympics for propaganda. I am disappointed that the system is not able to turn this historical event into political reform.”61

CONCLUSION: ARCHITECTURAL/URBAN LEGACIES FROM SPORTS MEGA-EVENTS Adopting a modernization perspective, Holger Preuss suggests that fi ve “opportunities” come from hosting the Olympic Games: transportation, telecommunications, sports facilities, housing, and urban culture. But this is contestable on three main counts.62 There are several other challenges for sports mega-events in East Asia and elsewhere.63 The fi rst is the tendency for the overestimation of benefi ts and the underestima- tion of costs. Potential gains are contradictory: benefi ts, costs, and burdens of hosting mega-events are unevenly distributed, including the relocation of residents, commercial spin-offs, jobs, housing after the event, and the possibility that newly built state of the art facilities will turn into “white elephants.” The second is that risks and the “uncertainty of outcomes” are an ever-present feature of mega-events. The outcomes of sports and sports events are uncertain: responses to media coverage, lower than expected audiences in the stadiums or on the screens, and, in non-Western societies especially, media treatment of events is often negative.64 Third, hosts especially have to balance patriotic promotion, xenophobic nationalism, and internationalism, one of the values meant to underpin the Olympic Games. Sport may be “war minus the shooting,” as George Orwell once wrote, but sport as a means to non-sporting ends, as soft power, is a risky business. 194 The East Asian Olympiads

The Summer Olympic Games are mega-events with the “ability to create, reinforce, and consolidate global city status.”65 Yet as Anne- Marie Broudehoux suggests about urban entrepreneurialism:

The ready-made identities assigned by city boosters and disseminated through the mass media often reduce several different visions of local culture into a single vision that reﬂ ects the aspirations of a powerful elite and the values, lifestyles, and expectations of potential investors and tourists. These practices are thus highly elitist and exclusionary, and often signify to more disadvantaged segments of the population that they have no place in this revitalized and gentriﬁ ed urban spectacle.66

The confl icts, resistances, and negotiations involved in the East Asian experience of hosting sports mega-events can be found amongst the debates about architecture as elsewhere. Hence “whether and to what extent it is possible for designers to resist, escape, or offer substantial alternatives to the dominant commercial culture” is the main focus of debate over them.67 Whilst architectural work of great technical standard may be produced, the urban environment may be left with greater population density, social inequality, and environmental degradation.68 As John Short remarks, winners and losers can be identifi ed.69 Winners include political regimes seeking to redevelop a city’s image, subtle place-specifi c discourses, and real estate and building companies. The losers are the marginal and weaker social groups, those living in poorer inner city sites who often face relocation without adequate or no compensation. As Darrel Crilley has argued, the architecture of redevelopment can perform “an effective screening role conducive to geographical and social myopia.”70 Nearly two decades ago David Harvey suggested that downtown redevelopments could be likened to a “carnival mask that diverts and entertains, leaving the social problems that lie behind the mask unseen and uncared for.”71 The debate about the impact of sports mega-events on urban modernity in East Asia and elsewhere will continue long after the latest Games has taken place.

NOTES 1 My own recent work has looked at sport’s relationship to consumer culture; the way that certain sports and sports events, mega-events such as the Summer Olympic Games especially, have become increasingly commodifi ed and globalized phenomena, closely tied to media and corporate sponsorship interests; and the social, political, and economic signifi cance of sport in Japan and East Asia more generally as one aspect of this globalization. Along with globalization and commodifi cation, consumer capitalism sustains unequal relations of production, distribution, exchange, consumption, and performance in and around sport and the “sport industry.” Sport provides politically usable resources: avenues for protest and opportunities for promotion—national, ethnic, and corporate—and sports mega-events Sports Mega-Events 195

provide a focus for this. Here I sketch out one of my research concerns with mega-events, and a developing interest in the sociology of sports architecture and architects, with the focus on East Asia and Beijing 2008 especially. This chapter thus deals with the building of sports mega-events and in particular the shaping of urban modernity in East Asia. 2 See Andrew Jennings, The New Lords of the Rings (London: Simon & Schuster, 1996) and Andrew Jennings, Foul (London: Harper Sport, 2006); John Sugden and Alan Tomlinson, FIFA and the Contest for World Football (Cambridge, U.K.: Polity, 1998). 3 Ren Xuefei, “Architecture and Nation Building in the Age of Globalization: Construction of the National Stadium of Beijing for the 2008 Olympics,” Journal of Urban Affairs 30:2 (2008), pp. 176. 4 See John Bale and Olof Moen, eds., The Stadium and the City (Keele: Keele University Press, 1995); Matthias Marschik, Rudi Mullner, Georg Spitaler, and Michael Zinganel, eds., Das Stadion: Geschichte, Architektur, Politik, Ekonomie (Vienna: Turia & Kant, 2005); Robert Trumpbour, The New Cathedrals: Politics and Media in the History of Stadium Construction (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2007). 5 See Garry Stevens, The Favored Circle: The Social Foundations of Architectural Distinction (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1998), p. 137; and Holger Preuss, The Economics of Staging the Olympics (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 2004), pp. 235– 236. Whilst Stevens estimated that less than one percent of the buildings designed by architects listed in the Macmillan Encyclopedia of Architects were for sports, these fi gures relate to the late 1970s. Preuss in his study of the economics of the Olympics suggests that architectural design “applies less to sports venues and Olympic villages than to the smaller ticket-selling information stands.” I propose that both authors underestimate the symbolic power and economy of the sports mega-events infrastructure. 6 Harry Hiller, “Toward a Science of Olympic Outcomes: The Urban Legacy,” in The Legacy of the Olympic Games 1984–2000, ed. Miquel de Moragas, Christopher Kennett, and Nuria Puig (Lausanne: IOC, 2003), pp. 102–109. 7 Stephen Essex and Brian Chalkley, “Urban Transformation from Hosting the Olympic Games,” Centre d’Estudis Olimpics UAB, Barcelona (2003) available at http://olympicstudies.uab.es/lectures/web/pdf/essex.pdf. See also Hanwen Liao and Adrian Pitts, “A Brief Historical Review of Olympic Urbanization,” International Journal of the History of Sport 23:7 (2006), pp. 1232–1252. 8 Leslie Sklair, The Transnational Capitalist Class (Oxford: Blackwell, 2001). 9 Stevens, The Favored Circle. 10 Deyan Sudjic, The Edifi ce Complex: How the Rich and Powerful Shape the World (London: Penguin, 2005), p. 6. 11 Stevens, The Favored Circle, p. 86. 12 Sudjic, The Edifi ce Complex, p. 8. 13 Carolyn Marvin, “‘All Under Heaven’ – Megaspace in Beijing” in Owning the Olympics: Narratives of the New China, ed. Monroe Price and Daniel Dayan (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2008), p. 178. 14 Stevens, The Favored Circle, p. 228n64. 15 Robert Gutman, Architectural Practice: A Critical View (Princeton: Princeton Architectural Press, 1988). 196 The East Asian Olympiads

16 After the ﬁ rst draft of this chapter was written, in the second half of 2008, HOK SVE was subject to a management buy out (led by senior principal architect Rod Sheard). It was re-launched with the new corporate name and brand as “Populous™” in March 2009. The webpage of the new practice states that: “Populous is a global design practice specializing in creating environments that draw people and communities together for unforgettable experiences.” It continues to achieve considerable success in attracting commissions, including both the main stadium for the Winter Olympic and Paralympic Games to be held in Sochi, Russia in 2014 and London’s 2012 Olympic Stadium. http://www.worldarchitecturenews.com/index. php?fuseaction=wanappln.projectview&upload_id=12441# (accessed December 16, 2009). 17 Leslie Sklair, “The Transnational Capitalist Class and Contemporary Architecture in Globalizing Cities,” International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 29:3 (2005), p. 487. 18 RKMA (Richard K. Miller & Associates), The 2007 Architectural/Engineering/ Construction Market Research Handbook (Loganville, GA: Richard K. Miller & Associates, 2006), p. 46. 19 RKMA, The 2007 Architectural/Engineering/Construction Market Research Handbook, p. 52. 20 See Kris Olds, “Globalizing Shanghai: The ’Global Intelligence Corps’ and the Building of Pudong,” Cities 14:2 (1997), pp. 109–123 21 See Olds, “Globalizing Shanghai” and Ren, “Architecture and Nation Building.” 22 Anne-Marie Broudehoux, The Making and Selling of Post-Mao Beijing (London: Routledge, 2004), p. 21. 23 Trumpbour in The New Cathedrals provides an interesting focus on the stadium construction boom that has beset the United States since the late 1990s. As American cities have competed to retain or gain “major league” or “world class” status, association with a professional sports franchise is seen as a valuable source of symbolic capital. 24 Ulrich Beck, Democracy Without Enemies (Cambridge, U.K.: Polity, 1998), p. 115. 25 See Leslie Sklair, “Iconic Architecture and Capitalist Globalization,” City 10:1 (2006), pp. 21–47. See also Sklair, “The Transnational Capitalist Class and Contemporary Architecture”; Sklair, The Transnational Capitalist Class. 26 Sklair, “The Transnational Capitalist Class and Contemporary Architecture,” p. 485. 27 Anthony King, Spaces of Global Cultures: Architecture, Urbanism, Identity (London: Routledge, 2004). 28 On stadium building in Beijing, see Susan Brownell, “The Stadium, the City, and the State: Beijing,” in The Stadium and the City, ed. John Bale and Olof Moen (Keele: Keele University Press, 1995), pp. 95–110. 29 Preuss, The Economics of Staging the Olympics, pp. 235–236. 30 King, Spaces of Global Cultures, p. 35. 31 Sklair, “The Transnational Capitalist Class and Contemporary Architecture,” pp. 485–486. 32 Chris Philo and Gerry Kearns, “Culture, History, Capital: A Critical Introduction to the Selling of Places” in Selling Places: The City as Cultural Sports Mega-Events 197

Capital, Past and Present, ed. Gerry Kearns and Chris Philo (Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1993), p. 18. 33 Philo and Kearns, “Culture, History, Capital,” p. 19. 34 John Urry, The Tourist Gaze, second edition (London: Sage. 2003), p. 115. 35 Maurice Roche, Mega-Events and Modernity (London: Routledge, 2000). 36 In the case of the Olympic Games, the International Olympic Committee’s (IOC’s) revenue between 2001–2004 comprised TV rights of 53 percent (US$2.229 billion), sponsorship of 34 percent (US$1.459 billion), ticketing of 11 percent (US$441 million), and merchandising of 2 percent (US$86.5 million). IOC President Jacques Rogge predicted in 2005 that total television rights would be worth US$3.5 billion to the IOC by 2012. 37 Kimberly Schimmel, “‘Deep Play’: Sports Mega-Events and Urban Social Conditions in the USA” in Sports Mega-Events, ed. John Horne and Wolfram Manzenreiter (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006), pp. 160–174. 38 John Rennie Short, Global Metropolitan: Globalizing Cities in a Capitalist World (London: Routledge, 2004), p.68ff. 39 Short, Global Metropolitan, p. 108. 40 Short, Global Metropolitan, p. 86. 41 Wolfram Manzenreiter, “The ‘Benefi ts’ of Hosting: Japanese Experiences from the 2002 Football World Cup,” Asian Business and Management 7 (2008), pp. 201–224. 42 Sandra Collins, “‘Samurai’ Politics: Japanese Cultural Identity in Global Sport – The Olympic Games as Representational Strategy,” International Journal of the History of Sport 24:3 (2007), p. 362. 43 Collins, “‘Samurai’ Politics,” p. 366. 44 William Coaldrake, Architecture and Authority in Japan (London: Routledge, 1996), p. 259. 45 Quoted in Coaldrake, Architecture and Authority, pp. 256–257. 46 Coaldrake, Architecture and Authority, p. 258. 47 Coaldrake, Architecture and Authority, p. 258. 48 Coaldrake, Architecture and Authority, pp. 261–262. 49 Coaldrake, Architecture and Authority, p. 364. 50 Broudehoux, Making and Selling of Post-Mao Beijing; Sudjic, The Edifi ce Complex, pp. 106 ff. 51 Kimberly Schimmel, “Sport Matters: Urban Regime Theory and Urban Regeneration in the Late-Capitalist Era” in Sport in the City, ed. Chris Gratton and Ian Henry (London: Routledge, 2001), pp. 259–277. 52 The jury comprised seven Chinese and six foreign “starchitects,” including Jean Nouvel, Rem Koolhaas, and Dominique Perrault. See Sudjic, The Edifi ce Complex, p. 117. 53 Sudjic, The Edifi ce Complex, p. 117. 54 Peter Eisinger, “The Politics of Bread and Circuses: Building a City for the Visitor Class,” Urban Affairs Review (January 2000), pp. 316–333. 55 See John Hannigan, Fantasy City: Pleasure and Profi t in the Postmodern Metropolis (London: Routledge, 1998) and Charles Rutheiser, Imagineering Atlanta: The Politics of Space in the City of Dreams (New York and London: Verso, 1996). 56 William Saunders, “Preface” in Commodifi cation and Spectacle in Architecture, ed. William Saunders (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2005), p. viii. 198 The East Asian Olympiads

57 George Ritzer and Todd Stillman, “The Postmodern Ballpark as a Leisure Setting: Enchantment and Dimulated De-McDonaldization,” Leisure Sciences 23:2 (2001), pp. 99–113. 58 Kenneth Frampton, “Introduction: The Work of Architecture in the Age of Commodifi cation” in Commodifi cation and Spectacle in Architecture, ed. William Saunders (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. 2005), pp. ix–xviii. 59 See Dick Pound, Inside the Olympics: A Behind-the-Scenes Look at the Politics, the Scandals, and the Glory of the Games (Etobicoke, Ontario: John Wiley & Sons Canada, 2004) for details. 60 Jonathan Glancey, “Secrets of the Bird’s Nest,” The Guardian, G2 section, February 11, 2008, pp. 23–27. 61 Jonathan Watts, “China Using Games as ‘Warfare’, Says Stadium Designer” in The Guardian (August 2, 2008), p. 26. 62 Preuss, The Economics of Staging the Olympics, pp. 91–92. 63 David Whitson and John Horne, “Underestimated Costs and Overestimated Benefi ts? Comparing the Impact of Sports Mega-Events in Canada and Japan” in Sports Mega-Events, ed. John Horne and Wolfram Manzenreiter (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006), pp. 73–89. 64 The collapse of a footbridge linking the athletes’ car park with the main Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium (injuring over twenty workers) and the pronouncement by offi cials arriving ahead of overseas teams that rooms in the athletes’ village were “unsafe and unfi t for human habitation” in September 2010, just days before the opening ceremony of the Commonwealth Games in Delhi, India, framed the mega-event in the most negative terms. Jason Burke, “Does This Look Ready to You? Chaos in Run-up to Commonwealth Games,” The Guardian, September 22, 2010, p. 1. 65 Short, Global Metropolitan, p. 108. 66 Broudehoux, Making and Selling of Post-Mao Beijing, p. 26. 67 Saunders, “Preface,” p. viii. 68 Frampton, “Introduction: The Work of Architecture.” 69 Short, Global Metropolitan. 70 Darrel Crilley, “Architecture as Advertising: Constructing the Image of Redevelopment” in Selling Places: The City as Cultural Capital, Past and Present, ed. Gerry Kearns and Chris Philo (Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1993), p. 249. 71 David Harvey, The Condition of Postmodernity (Oxford: Blackwell, 1989), p. 21. Index

2–26 Incident, 35 Asian Football Association Cup 3S (sex, sports, and screen) policy, (Indonesia-Malaysia-Thailand- 106, 107, 112, 114–15, 117 9/11, Vietnam, 2007), 189 64 Asian Games, IIIrd (Tokyo, 1958), 189 Abe Kitaro¯, 30 Asian Games, Xth (Seoul, 1986), 90, Administrative Litigation Law (ALL), 110, 113, 116, 189 160–1, 163 Asian Games, XIth (Beijing, 1990), 189 Adorno, Theodor, 107, 109, 112, 115 Asian Games, XIIth (Hiroshima, Afghanistan, 90 1994), 189 Ai Wei Wei, 193 Asian Games, XIVth (Busan, 2002), AIDS, 13 189 Akagi Muneyoshi, 66 Asian Games, XVth (Doha, 2006), 189 Allentown, Pennsylvania, 112 Asian Games, XVIth (Guangzhou, Allianz Arena (Munich), 191 2010), 189 Amateur Athletic Association of the Asian Games, XVIIth (Incheon, 2014), Orient (AAAO), 30–1, 32 189 Andreotti, Guilio, 95 Aso Noriko, 11 Anhui, 124 Associated Press, 96 Annecy, France, 190 Australia, 173, 179n18, 182n37, 192 anti-Americanism, 14, 97–8 Austria, 179n18 anti-Japanese sentiments, in China, 124–5, 127, 129, 130, 141–2 Bae Kyung-Dong, 91 ANZ Stadium (Sydney), 193 ballroom dancing, 158 Aoki Shigeru, 36 baseball, 113, 122, 130–1 Arakawa Shizuka, 182n40 basketball, 124, 126, 127, 129–30, archery, 177 171, 180n24, 181n30 architecture, 11, 14, 18, 21n42, 51, Bauhinia, 147 59, 101–102, 153, 176, 183, 184–7, Beck, Ulrich, 185 192, 193–4, 195n1, 195n5 Beijing, 6, 13, 88, 131, 142, 143, 144, Armani, 153 151, 152, 153–5, 156–9, 160–6, 185, Article Nine, 64 188, 191; People’s High Court, 161; Asagumo shinbun-sha, 70 ring roads, 157–8 Asahi shinbun, 38, 39, 54, 66, 71, Beijing Airport, 192 80, 82 Beijing Municipal Athletic Meet, 127 Asian Football Association Cup, 130, Beijing National Aquatics Center 189 (Water Cube), 14, 192 Asian Football Association Cup Beijing National Stadium (Bird’s Nest), (China, 2004), 189 14, 156, 159, 191, 193 200 Index

Beijing Oriental Plaza, 153 Political and Legislative Affairs Bender, Thomas, 138 Committee, 166 Berlin Wall, 88, 100, 187 Chinese National Athletic Federation, Beveridge, Albert, 139 23–4 biathlon, 74n14 Chinese Taipei (Zhonghua Taibei), Bikila, Abebe, 69 128, 146 Blankers-Koen, Francina, 176 cholera, 46n14 Bligh-Lobb Partnership, 193 Chongqing, 156 Bourdieu, Pierre, 184 Chu Minyi, 124 boxing, 9, 14, 68, 96–7, 124, 126 Chun Doo Hwan, 88, 90, 91, 92, 93, boycotts, 46n1, 89–90, 95, 99, 96, 101, 102, 104n18, 107, 109–10, 181n31 112–13, 114, 115 Broudehoux, Anne-Marie, 185, 191, Chu¯ o¯ ko¯ ron, 41 194 Cohen, Paul, 123 Brownell, Susan, 129 Cold War, 2, 6, 16, 74, 78, 88, 94, 99, Brundage, Avery, 79, 85n13, 128 100 Bulgaria, 9, 96 Collins, Sandra, 9, 11, 50, 189 bullet train, see Shinkansen Commonwealth Games (Delhi, 2010), Bungei shunju¯ , 84 189, 198n64 Burma, 1 Commonwealth Games (Kuala Buruma, Ian, 9, 20n28 Lumpur, 1998), 189 bushido¯, 51, 124 Congo, 83 Butler, Judith, 107 Coubertin, Pierre de, 1, 125, 140, 142, Byun Jong-il, 9 171 Crilley, Darrel, 194 calisthenics, 122, 158 crime, 12 Cambodia, 63 croquet, 171 Canada, 146, 172, 179n18, 181n35 Cuba, 95 Canary Wharf, 185 Cultural Revolution, 129 canoeing, 68 Cumings, Bruce, 89 Caron, Christine “Kiki,” 83 cycling, 126, 177 Caslavska, Vera, 83 Czechoslovakia, 83, 95, 179n18 CCTV, 130, 192 Center on Housing Rights and D-M-H-M newspapers, 28 Evictions (COHRE), 156–7 Da gong bao, 138 Cha, Victor, 11–12 DACOM, 91 chaebol, 92, 100, 102 DaeDong River, 91 Chamsil Stadium, 191 Daily Telegraph, 120 Chen Lifu, 123 Dalian, 125 Cheng Dengke, 124, 138–9 Darfur, 1, 131 Cheng Jinguan, 126 Davies, David, 9 Cheongyecheon River, 102 Dayan, Daniel, 2 Chiang Kai-shek, 123, 127, 145 Daylight Saving Time, 97 Chicago, 190 decathlon, 129 Chile, 182n37 Decision on the Work Handling Chin Fen Sports Monthly, 123–4 People’s Letters and Recieving China Amateur Athletic Federation, People’s Visits, 161 25, 125 Democratic People’s Republic of Korea China Incident (1937), 43, 52, 53 (DPRK), see North Korea Chinese Basketball Association, Deng Shouyi, 139 129 Deng Xiaoping, 129, 143, 147 Chinese Communist Party Denmark, 179n18 (CCP), 128, 150, 151, 165, 166; Dennis, Clare, 173 Index 201

Digital Beijing, 192 French Indo-China, 24, 25 Dilling, Margaret, 96 Fujin ko¯ ron, 80 disability studies, 108–109, 112 Fujiwara Akira, 43 Disneyland, 193 Fukushima prefecture, 68 diving, 177 Funabashi Yo¯ichi, 66 Dong Xinxia, 5, 181n34 Durban, 190 geisha, 79, 85n13 Dutch East Indies, 24, 25 Genenger, Martha, 180n22 Geneva, Switzerland, 156 Eastern Bloc, 6, 17, 90, 94, 95, 98, 99, Germany, 52, 64, 84, 95, 124, 138–9, 100, 187 140, 144, 179n18, 180n22, 190 Eisenhower, Dwight, 66 global cities, 188–9, 192 El Salvador, 181n35 Godzilla, 65 equestrian events, 68, 70 golf, 44, 137, 171 Esaki Masumi, 68 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 95, 100 Espy, Richard, 140–1 Goto¯ Shimpei, 38, 46n22 Ethiopia, 69 Great Britain, 39, 54, 69, 84, 120, 123, Eto¯ Jun, 6 127, 147, 172, 178n9, 179n18 exercise, see physical education Great Kanto¯ Earthquake (1923), 38 Falungong, 99, 121 Greece, 59, 84, 90, 123 Far Eastern Athletic Association guanxi, 155 (FEAA), 26, 30–1, 32n1 Guomindang (KMT), 124, 128 Far Eastern Olympic Games, 32n1, guoshu, 126 173, 180n24 Guttman, Allen, 178n3 Far Eastern Olympic Games, IInd gymnastics, 82, 83, 124, 171, 174, (Shanghai, 1915), 122 177, 181n30 Far Eastern Olympic Games, IIIrd (Tokyo, 1917), 181 Haase, Norman, 112 Far Eastern Olympic Games, VIth Hachida Ichiro¯, 72 (Osaka, 1923), 173, 174, 181n29 hakko¯ ichiu, 51 Far Eastern Olympic Games, Han Fei, 178n6 Xth (Manila, 1934), 16, Han Pil Hwa, 174 23–32 Han River, 14, 102 Farolan, Modesto, 28 Han River Development Plan, 91 Federation of International Football handball, 181n30 Associations (FIFA), 183 Haneda Airport, 79 Field, Norma, 65 Hao Gengsheng, 128, 142 fi eld hockey, 181n30 Harbin, 153 fi gure skating, 182n40 Harvard University, 139 fi lm industry, South Korean, 107, 113– Harvey, David, 109, 194 14, 115; South Korean pornographic Hawai’i, 173 fi lms, 107, 114, 116 Heatley, Basil, 69 Formosa China, 128 Hebei, 158 Fortune Global 500, 185 Herzfeld, Michael, 122–3 Forum Building (Barcelona), 191 Herzog, Jacques, 191 Foster, Norman, 185, 192 hi no maru fl ag, 8, 16, 59, 66 Foucault, Michel, 108, 109 Hiatt, Fred, 95–6, 173 France, 52, 83, 140, 172, 179n18, Hiller, Harry, 184 190 Hirabayashi Taiko, 58 Franco-Prussian War, 140 Hiranuma Ryo¯zo¯, 27, 29, 30, 31 Frankfurt School, 107 Hiroshima, 6 Freedom Tower, 185 Hirota Ko¯ki, 38, 40 202 Index

Hitomi Kinue, 170, 172–3, 175, 176, internationalism, 50, 51, 54, 56, 80, 179n13, 179n18 82, 147–8 Hofstadter, Richard, 138 Inumaru Tetsuzo¯ , 53 Hoganson, Kristin, 139 Iriye Katsumi, 38 HOK SVE, 185, 192, 193, 196n16; Ishigaki Ayaki, 80 change of name to Populous, Israel, 89 196n16 Itagaki Kuniko, 45n7 Hokkaido¯, 66, 73 Italy, 64, 84, 124, 126, 179n18f Honduras, 74n2 Iwo Jima, 68 Hong Kong, 18, 122, 147, 181n35 Honolulu Chinese Baseball Team, Jamaica, 181n35 122 Janjaweed, 131 Horkheimer, Max, 107, 109, 112, 115 Japan, 108, 109, 121, 122, 123, 125, Ho¯ sei University, 68 126, 127, 129, 130, 131, 141, 142, hostess clubs, 81 144–5, 170, 171, 172–3, 174, 175–6, House of Peers (Japan), 23 179n13, 179n18, 180, n25, 180n29, housing rights movement, 106 181n31, 181n35, 182n38, 182n39, Howe, David, 108, 111 182n40, 189, 190–1, 194n1; 2600th Hu Tong, 125 anniversary of founding, 39; human rights, 14, 131 Home Ministry, 37, 41; Ministry Human Rights Watch, 99 of Agriculture and Fisheries, 37; hutong, 157–9 Ministry of Education (Monbusho), hygiene and health, 12, 16, 34–45, 29, 39–40; Ministry of Finance, 81; 46n14, 88, 140 Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 40, 43; Hyundai Construction, 102 Ministry of Health and Welfare, 41; “peace constitution” (1947), 60, 64; IAAF World Athletics Championship remilitarization, 60 (Osaka, 2007), 189 Japan Amateur Athletic Federation ice hockey, 181n30 (JAAF), 24, 28, 29, 30 Ichikawa Kon, 58, 69 Japan Amateur Sports Association, 50 iconic architecture, 186, 192, 193 Japan Athletic Federation, 27 Ie no hikari, 36, 45n7 Japan Communist Party, 60 Igarashi Yoshikuni, 7 Japan Intercollegiate Athletic Union, Ikeda Hayato, 60, 79, 80 24 Imperial Hotel (Tokyo), 53, 82 Japan Physical Culture Association, Imperial Japanese Army, 68, 72 27, 29 Incheon, 102 Japan Physical Training Association, 27 India, 4, 187–8 Japan Socialist Party, 60 International Monetary Fund, 100 Japan Students Track and Field International Olympic Committee Federation, 24 (IOC), 1, 2, 4, 15, 40, 49, 65, 79, Japanese Olympic Committee, 49, 59, 85n10, 88, 89, 90, 95, 99, 113, 70, 78, 79, 190 121, 128, 139, 140, 143, 144, Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium (Delhi), 146, 171, 172, 175, 177, 179n13, 198n64. 179n17, 181n32, 181n34, 182n43, Ji Zheng, 181n32 183, 192–3, 197n36; The Olympic Jiang Jieshi, see Chiang Kai-shek Programme, 193 Jiangsu, 122 International Shooting Champion- Jiangxi, 125 ships, 113 Joseon Dynasty, 191 International Sunday School ju¯ do¯ , 4, 179n13 Association, 25 International Union of Architects Kaizo¯ , 36 (UIA), 186 Kami Kazuhiko, 73 Index 203

Kang Shin-pyo, 100, 105n32 Liang Qichao, 138 Kano¯ Jigoro¯ , 4, 49, 50, 51, 175, Liao Hanwen, 14 179n13 Liberal Democratic Party, 60 Kano Masanao, 40, 43 Libya, 102 Kasai Sansei, 179n22 Liu Changchun, 125, 126, 132, 141, Kawamoto Nobumasa, 69 142, 181n32 Kawanishi Sansei, 42 Liu Shenzhan, 124 Kawano Shun’ichi, 72 Liu Xiang, 132 Kawashima Shiro¯ , 42 Lodge, Henry Cabot, 139 Kelly, Ray, 130 London, 120 kemari, 171, 178n5 Lopez, Juan P., 28 Kenya, 181n35 Los Angeles, 90 Khrushchev, Nikita, 6 Lovell, Julia, 9–10 Kido Ko¯ ichi, 43 Lyon, D.W., 138 Kim Dae Jung, 94, 102 Lytton Report, 35 Kim Jung In, 91 Kim Soo Geun, 191 Ma Yanhong, 174 Kimigayo, 8, 16, 66 MacArthur, Douglas, 64 Kimpo Airport, 90 Madame Emma fi lm series, 114 Kimura Atsushi, 28–9, 31 Madrid, 190 Kishi Nobusuke, 66 Maehata Hideko, 42, 173, 179n22 Kitani Yatsushi, 60 Mahan, Albert Thayer, 138 Kiyokawa Masaji, 56, 57 Majong, 158 Kobayashi Hideo, 57 Manchukuo, 23–32, 35–6, 37, 39, 40, Kobe earthquake (1995), 63 141–2 kokutai, 39, 40 Manchukuo Amateur Athletic konjo¯ (guts), see spirit, Japanese Association, 24 Koolhaas, Rem, 192, 197n52 Manchuria, see Manchukuo Korean Airlines, fl ight 007, 90; fl ight manga, 84, 176 858, 90 Manga dokuhon, 84 Korean Baseball Organization, 113 Mangahas, Frederico, 28 Korean National Games for the Mangan, J.A., 5 Disabled, 111 Manila, 33n1 Korean War, 64, 92, 97, 114 Manila Bulletin, 28, 30 Korean wave (hallryu), 116 Manila Herald, 28, 29, 31 Kuala Lumpur, 102 Manzhouguo, see Manchukuo Kukp’ung ‘81, 17, 110, 115, 116 Mao Zedong, 6, 129, 143, 185 Kunming, 153 marathon, 42, 67–9, 96, 174 Kwangju Massacre, 91, 92, 93, 96, martial arts, 4, 124, 126, 171, 178n6 104n18, 107, 109, 110, 112, 114, Marvin, Carolyn, 185 115 Matsuzawa Ikkaku, 30 Kwangju Uprising, 110, 114, 115 Mayer, Otto, 146 Kyoto, 79 McClain, James, 9, 11 Kyu¯ shu¯ , 73 mega-events, 1, 18, 122, 183–4, 186–7, 188–9, 192–4, 194n1, 195n5 Land Contract Law, 161 Meier, Richard, 185 Lao She, 125 Meiji Restoration, 35 Law on Assemblies, Processions, and Meiji Shrine (Tokyo), 13 Demonstrations, 162 Mercedes Benz, 153 League of Nations, 27, 35, 50, 55, 60 Meuron, Pierre de, 191 Lee Myung-bak, 102, 105n40, Milliat, Alice, 172 116–17 Minami Jiro¯ , 180n24 Li Peng, 143–4 Mishima Yukio, 6–7, 58 204 Index

Miss Universe Pageant, 29th (Seoul, Nikaido¯ Taiso¯ Juku, 172 1980), 17, 114 Nikaido¯ Tokuyo, 172 Miyake Yoshinobu, 67–8, 69, 72–3 Nippon Budo¯ kan (Tokyo), 11, 59 Montreal, 90 Nishi Takeichi, Count, 68 Morgan, William, 180n29 Noma Seiroku, 11 Moscow, 89 Nordpolitik, 100 Munich, 190, 191 North Korea, 6, 13, 17, 74, 90, 91, Murakami Haruki, 2 94–5, 99, 100, 109, 174, 181n35 Mussolini, Benito, 40 Norway, 179n18 Nouvel, Jean, 197n52 Nagai Kafu¯ , 38 nutrition, 34, 43 Nagano, 190 Nagashima Shigeo, 85n9 Occupation of Japan, 77, 81 Nagata Hidejiro¯ , 5, 39 O¯ giya Sho¯ zo¯ , 82 Nagoya, 90, 146, 187, 190 Oka Kunio, 52 Nakamura Tetsu, 141 Olympia, 59, 139 Nakano Tsuya, 82 Olympic Games, and gender, 16–17, 18, Nakdong River, 102 65, 85n10, 176; and globalization, Nam Seung-yong, 180n26 175, 176; and imperialism, 6, 16, Nan Shoryu, see Nam Seung-yong 50–1; and military forces, 22n59, Nanjing, 80, 130, 141 63–74, 188; and modernity, 10–11, Nankai University, 140 12, 15, 16, 34–7, 39, 44, 59, 77, Nara, 79 110, 175, 189; and nationalism, Narita Ryu¯ ichi, 45n7 8–10, 16, 17–18, 34, 51, 58, 65–6, NASA, 57 93, 97–9, 101, 108, 112–13, 117, National Basketball Association (NBA), 140–1, 152–3; and race, 16–17; and 130 terrorism, 1; closing ceremonies, 58, National Citizenry Physical Strength 67, 96, 98; domination by West, 2, Law (Japan), 44 3, 4, 15, 51; environmental impact, National Day (People’s Republic of 90; ofﬁ cial languages of, 78; opening China), 165, 166 ceremonies, 6, 8, 11, 13, 58, 67, 71, National Games (China), 172, 173, 96; television coverage of, 5, 9, 16, 174, 179n10, 180n24 56–7, 58, 67, 77, 91, 96, 97–8, 176; National Marksmen’s League (South violence and protests at, 89, 90, Korea), 113 94, 103n4; women athletes at, 18, National Olympic Stadium (Tokyo), 75n14, 80, 170–8 58, 67, 74n3 Olympic Games, Ist (Athens, 1896), National Physical Education 138, 182n37 Association (Japan), 40 Olympic Games, IInd (Paris, 1900), National Sports Commission (People’s 171, 178n1 Republic of China), 143, 144 Olympic Games, IIIrd (St. Louis, Natsume So¯ seki, 37 1904), 4; Anthropology Days, 4 NBC, 9, 97–8, 104n15 Olympic Games, Vth (Stockholm, Netherlands, 176, 179n18 1912), 4, 49, 179n13, 182n38 New York City, 185 Olympic Games VIIth (Antwerp, New York Times, 38, 45, 141, 144, 159 1920), 182n38 New York Yankees, 130 Olympic Games VIIIth (Paris, 1924), New Zealand, 89, 96 182n38 NHK, 42, 52, 179n22 Olympic Games, IXth (Amsterdam, Ni Yulan, 162 1928), 4, 170, 172, 173, 179n13, Nigeria, 181n35 179n18, 182n38 Nihon Joshi Taiiku Daigaku, 172 Olympic Games, Xth (Los Angeles, Niigata, 72 1932), 4, 41, 55, 56, 57, 68, 125, Index 205

126, 131, 132, 141, 173, 181n32, Olympic Games, XXVIth (Atlanta, 182n38 1996), 182n36 Olympic Games, XIth (Berlin, 1936), Olympic Games, XXVIIth (Sydney, 2, 4, 7, 34, 38, 41, 42, 50, 53, 57, 2000), 2, 4, 144, 181n36, 193 70, 126, 127, 131, 144, 173, 174, Olympic Games, XXVIIIth (Athens, 179n22, 180n26 2004), 4, 132, 156, 175, 177, Olympic Games, XIIth (planned for 181n35, 181n36 Tokyo, 1940), 2, 5, 6, 10, 16, 34–6, Olympic Games, XXIXth (Beijing, 38–41, 50–5, 60, 189; cancellation 2008), 1–19, 45, 87–9, 99, 102, of, 43–4, 51, 54 105n34, 116, 120, 121, 131–2, Olympic Games, XIVth (London, 144–5, 150–2, 153–5, 156–7, 159, 1948), 4, 57, 127, 131, 176 162–6, 176, 177, 185, 188, 189, 191, Olympic Games, XVth (Helsinki, 192, 193, 195n1; as “Beer Olympics,” 1952), 57, 94, 128, 145 1, 192; as “Blood Olympics,” 1; as Olympic Games, XVIth (Melbourne, “Games of Shame,” 2; as “Genocide 1956), 57, 128 Olympics,” 1, 15, 131; as “Saffron Olympic Games, XVIIth (Rome, 1960), Olympics,” 1; as “Smoglympics,” 57, 64, 68, 69, 72, 88, 128, 145 1; Capital Civilization Offi ce, 13; Olympic Games, XVIIIth (Tokyo, evictions and urban renewal for, 1964), 2–19, 22n59, 43–5, 55–61, 156–9, 160, 161–3; Olympic Village, 63–74, 77–84, 88, 129, 131, 144–5, 153, 156, 159; protests against, 1, 174, 175, 189, 190; and women, 19n4, 19n8 78–84, 174, 175; “Companions,” Olympic Games, XXXth (London, 79–80, 84, 86n9; interpreters and 2012), 196n16 translators at, 66–7, 78–80, 84; Olympic Park (Seoul), 14 Olympic Arts Festival, 11; Olympic Olympic torch, 7, 58, 59, 62n33 Village, 67, 72, 81, 83; Tokyo Olympic Winter Games, Vth (planned Olympic Movement Promotion for Sapporo, 1940), 2 Council, 12 Olympic Winter Games, VIIth Olympic Games, XIXth (Mexico City, (Cortina d’Ampezzo, 1956), 4 1968), 1, 88, 89 Olympic Winter Games, VIIIth (Squaw Olympic Games, XXth (Munich, Valley, 1960), 64 1972), 1, 64, 88, 89, 174, 191 Olympic Winter Games IXth Olympic Games, XXIst (Montreal, (Innsbruck, 1964), 174 1976), 4, 89–90, 146, 174, 180n28 Olympic Winter Games, XIth Olympic Games, XXIInd (Moscow, (Sapporo, 1972), 2, 19n9, 64, 74, 1980), 90, 181n31 189 Olympic Games, XXIIIrd (Los Angeles, Olympic Winter Games, XVIIIth 1984), 4, 96, 142, 143, 174, 175, (Nagano, 1998), 2, 13, 19n9, 189 187 Olympic Winter Games, XXth Olympic Games, XXIVth (Seoul, (Torino, 2006), 182n40 1988), 1–19, 20n28, 87–102, 103n4, Olympic Winter Games, XXIInd 105n34, 106–17; bid for, 90, 110, (Sochi, 2014), 196n16 113, 144–5, 156, 187, 189, 191; Ono Hisako, 74n2, 74n3 Central Council for Pan-National Open Constitution Initiative, 165 Olympic Promotion, 12; evictions Orwell, George, 7–8, 193 and urban renewal for, 88, 93, 106, Osaka, 33n1, 190 110, 111–12, 116, 156; impact on Otto, Frei, 191 domestic politics, 99; infrastructure development, 91, 92, 93, 99, Pacifi c War, see World War II 101–102, 111, 116 Padronas Twin Towers, 102 Olympic Games, XXVth (Barcelona, Pak Chong Gyu, 113 1992), 182n36 Pan-Pacifi c Women’s Games, 173 206 Index

Paralympic Games, 106, 108–109, Portland, Oregon, 43 111–12, 117, 196n16 posin’tang, 97 Park Chung Hee, 89, 90, 91, 101–102, Pound, Richard, 1, 146 109, 110, 112, 113 Prague, 173 Park Seh-Jik, 5, 100–101 Preuss, Holger, 186, 193 parking, 154 Price, Monroe, 1 Pempel, T.J., 44 Project 119, 177, 182n44 People’s Daily, 144, 160 prostitution, 81, 97 people’s diplomacy, 16, 49–50, 55, PTW, 192 60–1, 77 Public Security Bureau (PSB), 161, 162, People’s Liberation Army (PLA), 163 168n25 People’s Republic of China (PRC), 18, Pyeongchang, 190 74, 95, 99, 100, 120, 121, 127–32, 145–7, 150–66, 174–5, 176, 177, Qing Dynasty, 121, 130, 132 181n31, 181n32, 181n35, 181n36, Quezon, Manuel, 28–32 182n43, 185, 188, 189; automobile ownership, 153–4; citizen’s rights race and ethnicity, 83–4 in, 150, 152; corruption in, 150; radio, 41, 42, 173, 175 democratization in, 18, 89, 152, Rajio taiso¯ , 41 160; economic growth, 152–5, Rangoon, 90 165; Foreign Ministry, 144; income Ren Xuefei, 183 disparties, 150, 152–5; internal reportworld.com, 117 migration, 153, 159; land ownership Republic of China (ROC, 1912–1949), rights, 161; legal system, 152, 122–7, 128, 131, 142, 145, 146, 173; 160–1, 163–4, 168n25; Ministry of see also Taiwan Public Security, 160; Ministry of Republic of Korea (ROK), see South the Treasury, 144; political reform, Korea 151, 152, 159–61, 165–6; popular Rio de Janeiro, 190 support for the government, 151; Rivera, Godofredo, 28 protest and public disturbances in, Robertson, C.H., 121, 132 150, 160, 162: repression in, 151, Rogge, Jacques, 181n34, 197n36 152, 165–6; rights activists in, 162, Roh Moo-hyun, 102 164–5; social instability (luan), 150; Roh Tae Woo, 91, 92, 93, 94, 100, 101, State Bureau of Letters and Visits, 102, 104n18, 110 161, 163; state owned factories, 155 Rolex, 153 Perrault, Dominique, 197n52 Romania, 181n35 Perry, Commodore Matthew, 82 Rong Cai, 178n6 Pew Research Center, 151 Roosevelt, Theodore, 139 Philippine Amateur Athletic Roush, Steve, 177 Federation (PAAF), 23, 25–8 rowing, 177 Philippines, 4, 23–32, 122; American “permissive colonialism” in, 25, Sabuk Miners’ Uprising, 114 32 Saﬁ re, William, 141 physical education, 36, 38, 41, 42, Sagita Shigeo, 54–5 44, 52, 78, 123, 124, 137, 140, 171, Saito¯ Masami, 55, 57 172, 174 Saito¯ Minoru, 39 Pierce, Palmer E., 140 Sakai Yoshinori, 6 ping-pong, 124, 129, 171 Samaranch, Juan Antonio, 15, 95, 99 Pitts, Adrian, 14 Sanggyedong redevelopment zones, Playboy, 82 110 Pohang, 101 Sapporo, 190 pollution, 13, 88, 154–5 Sasebo, 73 Pope, S.W., 140 Sato¯ Noboru, 66–7 Index 207

Saunders, William, 192 Socialist Youth League of China, 123 Scott, James C., 89 softball, 180n24, 181n30 Self-Defense Force (Japan), 16, 63–74; Sohn Kee-chung, 7, 20n28, 42, Asaka base, 63, 68, 74n2; Defense 180n26 Academy, 67; Defense Agency, 68, Son Chông Mok, 113 69, 70, 72; Northern Corps, 66; Son Kitei, see Sohn Kee-chung public sentiment towards, 73–74; Song Dynasty, 171 Tokyo Olympic Support Command Song Junfu, 125–6 (TOSC), 66, 67, 70, 73; women in, South Africa, 89 74n14 South Korea, 60, 83, 87–102, 106–17, Senegal, 181n35 174, 176, 180n28, 181n31, 191; Seoul, 12, 13, 88, 92, 95, 98, 100, 101, 1979 coup, 91, 92, 109; 1987 “velvet 102, 106, 107, 108, 110, 112, 113, revolution,” 107; censorship, 115, 190 114, 115; cultural policy, 106–17; Seoul Arts Center, 115 democratization of, 15, 17, 88–9, Seoul National University, 114 93–4, 99, 101, 107, 109, 114–15, Seoul Olympic Organizing Committee 116, 117, 145; entertainment (SLOOC), 5, 92, 103n4, 110, 113 in, 107–108, 112, 114–15, 116; sewage systems, 13, 14, 37, 38, 54, 59 Ministry of Education, 113 sexually transmitted diseases (STDs), South Korean Amateur Athletic 81, 84 Association, 113 Shaanxi, 159 South Manchurian Railway Company, Shaikin, Bill, 143 46n22 Shanghai, 26, 27–8, 32n1, 122, 123, Soviet Union, 68, 90, 94, 100, 109, 127, 156 127, 128, 143, 158, 174, 177, shanwu, 138, 139 187 Sheard, Rod, 193, 196n16 Spain, 95 Shen Siliang, 127, 141 Special Administrative Region (SAR), Shenyang, 130 147 Shimomura Kainan, 52–3 speed skating, 174 Shin toshi, 60 spirit, Japanese, 51, 71–3, 74, 124 Shinkansen, 14, 48n49, 191 spitting, 12, 13, 37 shooting, 68, 74n14, 142 sports, Chinese internationalization Short, John, 194 and, 137–8, 139, 140–1, 144, 145, Sho¯ wa emperor, 9, 16 146, 147–8; Chinese national Shu¯ kan gendai, 83 insecurity and humiliation and, Shu¯ kan tokuho¯ , 83 121, 123, 132, 142, 143, 144, 151; shuttlecock, 124 Chinese nationalism and, 122, Sichuan, 124, 159 129–32, 137–8, 139, 140–1, 143, Sichuan Blue Sword Beer Pandas, 130 147; in China, 121–32, 137–40; Sichuan earthquake (2010), 9, 163, 164 in South Korea, 107, 112–13, 116; signature architects, see starchitects infrastructure for, 183–6 siheyuan, 157 Sports Illustrated, 129 Sima Qian, 178n6 ssirûm, 113 Singapore, 181n35 Stadium Australia (Sydney), 193 Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895), 138 stadiums, sport, 183–4, 187, 191–3, Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill (SOM), 196n16, 196n23, 198n64 185 Starbucks, 188 Sklair, Leslie, 184, 185, 186, 192 starchitects, 184, 185, 186, 192, 193, soccer, 113, 124, 126, 130, 137, 177, 197n52 181n30 Stevens, Garry, 184 Social Darwinism, 138–9 Stimson Doctrine, 25 Socialist Youth Brigade, 123 Strathern, Marilyn, 109 208 Index

Sudjic, Deyan, 191 Twenty-One Demands, 122 Sumida River, 60 “Two Chinas” issue, 16, 18, 128–9, Suzuki Bunshiro¯ , 54 145–7, 174–5, 181n32 Sweden, 179n18 “Two Koreas” issue, 16, 95 swimming, 42, 45, 56, 57, 82, 83, Tydings McDuffi e Independence Act, 98, 123, 124, 171, 173, 179n22, 28, 31 181n30, 182n44 Switzerland, 144 Ugaki Seiichi, 43 synchronized swimming, 181n30 UNESCO World Heritage Sites, 188 table tennis, see ping-pong United Nations, 65, 100, 106 taekwondo, 4 United States, 57, 64, 68, 74n2, 84, 90, Tagsold, Christian, 56 97–8, 100, 109, 110, 121, 123, 126, Tai-Qi, 158 129, 130, 138, 139, 140, 141, 143, Taiwan, 18, 37, 46n22, 121, 128–9, 146, 172, 177, 179n18, 181n31, 130–1, 145–7, 181n31 182n37, 185, 186, 191, 196n23; Takeda Taijun, 60 relations with Japan, 57; relations Takeda Tsuneyoshi, 70 with Korea, 97–8, 99, 100; U.S. Air Tan, Vidal, 27, 29 Force base, Chitose, 67; U.S. Army Tange Kenzo¯ , 8, 11, 190–1 Air Defense Artillery School, 67; Tanikawa Shuntaro¯ , 59 U.S.-Japan Mutual Security Treaty, Tate Modern, 191 14, 66 Telstra Stadium (Sydney), 193 University of Pittsburgh, 123 tennis, 171, 180n24 University of the Philippines, 27 Tiananmen Square, 191; protests Urano Chikako, 176 (1989), 5–6, 88 urban environment, 187–8 Tianjin, 121, 138, 140, 156 Urban Neighborhood Committee Tibet, 2, 99, 131 Election Law, 161 Tien Shouhan, 24 urban planning, 38, 88, 106, 111, 153, Tiffany, 153 155–9 tiyu, 121, 124, 137, 138 urination, public, 12, 16, 37 Tlatelolco massacre, 89 Urry, John, 188 To¯ a Nippo¯ , 42 U.S. Olympic Committee, 177 toilet etiquette, 12, 13, 40, 158 Tokyo, 5, 8, 10–11, 12, 13, 21n42, Vargas, Jorge, 25, 27–30, 32 33n1, 35, 38, 51, 54, 59–60, 63, 66, Vietnam War, 73 81, 190–1; bid for 2016 Olympics, volleyball, 85n29, 124, 129, 171, 174, 8, 9, 49, 190 175–6, 180n24, 180n28, 180n29, Tokyo Imperial University, 34 181n30 Tokyo Olympiad, 69 track-and-fi eld events, 67, 68, 69, 125, Wang, C.T., 25 126, 132, 142, 170, 172, 173, 176, Wang Chien-ming, 130–1 177, 179n15, 179n17, 181n30, Wang Huaiqi, 122 182n44 Wang Zhengting, 139, 142 traffi c, 60, 88, 154–5 Waseda University, 24 transnational capitalist class, 184, Washington Heights (Tokyo), 186, 187–8, 192 67, 190 transnationalism, 141 Washington Post, 95 Tsuboi Yoshikatsu, 191 water polo, 181n30 Tsuburaya Ko¯ kichi, 63–4, 67–9, 72–3, Waterloo, Battle of, 140 74n3 weightlifting, 67–8, 74n14, 126 tuberculosis, 41 Wellington, Duke of, 140 Index 209

Wembley Stadium, 192 Yamamoto Tadaoki, 24–9 Wen Jiabao, 163 Yamamoto Tatsuo, 41 Women’s Olympics (Olympiques Yang, C.K., 129 Féminines), 170, 172 Yang Shangkun, 143 Women’s Olympics, Ist (Paris, 1922), Yasukawa Daigoro¯ , 59, 190 172 Ye Guozhu, 162 Women’s Olympics, IInd (Gothenburg, Ylanan, R., 25, 28 1926), 170, 172, 179n13 YMCA, 32n1, 121, 122, 138, 140, work units (danwei), 155 180n29 Worker’s Stadium (Beijing), 130 Yokohama, 29 World Architecture, 186 Yomiuri Giants, 85n9 World Cup (South Korea and Japan, Yomiuri shinbun, 69, 72 2002), 60, 108, 189 Yoshida Shigeru, 74n2 World Toilet Summit, 13 Young, David C., 140 World Trade Organization, 152, 156 Yoyogi National Gymnasium (Tokyo), World War II, 4, 6, 7, 36, 64, 190 8, 11, 59, 190–1 World’s Fairs, 45n2 Yoyogi Park, 191 wrestling, 72, 74n14, 113, 177 Yu Xiwei, 125, 142 Wu Cheng, 123 Yu Zizhen, 124 wushu, 4 Yuan Shikai, 122 Yun Daiying, 123 Xi’an, 123 xiangqi, 158 Zhang Bofa, 144 Xin Hua News Agency, 144, 166 Zhang Boling, 140 xinfang (petition) system, 161, 163–5, Zhang Xueliang, 141–2 168n25 Zhejiang, 164 Xu Haifeng, 142 Zhongguo Hong Kong, 147 Xu Zhiyong, 165 Zhou Dawen, 142 Zhou Enlai, 128, 145 Zhou Yongkang, 160 Yamakawa Ken, Viscount, 39–40 Yamakawa Kikue, 52 Yamakawa Takeru, Baron, 29