OLYMPIC-SIZED TASK
Alison Mah tells the story of the upcoming 2018 Winter Games and the small Korean town that’s looking to wow the world
With the Olympics six months away, South Korea has in its hands a tried-and-true blueprint to tackle problems that have plagued other hosts. But the Games leadup has been hindered by sluggish ticket sales, venue maintenance cost concerns and a lack of media buzz for a country with few historical ties to winter sports. And there’s also an unengaged populace still reeling from the ousting of President Park Geun-hye.
From a bird’s-eye view, PyeongChang, the soon-to-be host to thousands converging at the world’s largest sporting event of 2018, looks almost quaint.
The county in Gangwon province, 125 kilometres east of Seoul, South Korea, is a small-town tourism hot spot for those seeking hiking or skiing amid a stunning mountain backdrop.
Amble through the neighbourhood streets, and you’ll pass boutique coffee shops and humble eateries selling buckwheat noodles and trout. Rolling green hills overlook a landscape of ski resorts.
PyeongChang has none of the bluster or bravado of a Beijing, London or Rio. But in the next half a year, the scenic city and its subhosts, Gangneung and Jeongseon, will welcome an expected 6,500 people from about 95 countries for the XXIII Olympic Winter Games. It will be where Team Canada seeks to build on its 25-medal performance in Sochi 2014 — just one short of the national record set in Vancouver 2010.
The cities will house 15 different sporting events across a dozen venues from Feb. 9 to 25, 2018, with the Paralympics following on March 9 to 18.
As far as Olympic host cities go, PyeongChang is tiny. The population sat around 43,000 in 2014, and it’s the smallest city to hold the Games since the 1994 Olympics in Lillehammer, Norway. Vancouver had more than 600,000 people when it hosted in 2010.
But spend some time asking around, and you’ll realize PyeongChang ’s aspirations soar beyond the modest locale.
Its main attraction is accessibility, and it comes in the form of a $3.7-billion high-speed railway that connects the Incheon airport to PyeongChang in just over an hour. The county’s boldly stated ambition is to become the heart of winter sports in Asia — bigger, better and cheaper to travel to than Beijing or Japan. Korea fought hard to make that dream possible — the 2018 Olympics, which the country won in 2011, came after two failed bids for the 2010 and 2014 Games.
“We want to make the PyeongChang region the winter sports hub of Asia,” said Lim Song-jae, manager of the international media relations team for the PyeongChang Olympic organizing committee, during a visit by the Citizen in April. “There’s no famous winter sports destination that can give that kind of transportation accessibility.
“We want to surprise the world once again.”
The “again” is worth noting.
These Olympics arrive exactly 30 years after the country’s first Games in Seoul, 1988. Those Olympics were a coming-out party for the country in more ways than one. Back in the ’80s, Korea’s military dictator, Gen. Chun Doo Hwan, initially sought to host the 1988 Games as a way to garner greater popular support for his authoritarian regime, and distract citizens from the economic and political issues their country faced. But his plan backfired, as the world’s eye turned to Korea on the eve of the country’s Olympics, and pressure mounted. In 1987, a year before the Games, pro-democracy protests, fuelled by disgruntled students and an affluent middle class, threw Chun out and replaced him with an elected government.
That was just the start of what proved to be a major transformation in South Korea’s history. The 1988 Games — which turned a profit, a rarity in Olympic history — boosted both the economic and cultural clout of the country. Tourists flocked, and the economy was jump-started by a sales growth in electronics and consumer goods.
“The Olympics served as a platform to let the world know what Korea was like,” said Kim Jae-kyu, director general of the city’s Sports Facilities Management Centre.
“Before, Korea was regarded as a nation that had undergone the Korean War and suffered tragedy. The Games were a kind of turning point to promote a positive image of Korea.”
Perhaps most importantly, facilities from the Games, which are all still in use today, provided a network of transportation and sporting infrastructure that would come to house some of the country’s youngest and brightest. Previously humble attitudes about athletics competitions were overhauled as training programs and sports leagues sprouted like daisies.
“South Korea is a powerhouse in figure skating and short-track speedskating,” said Michael Heine, director of the International Centre for Olympic Studies at Western University.
“And if you track some personnel developments, I think you can make some connections back to the ’88 Games.”
With only seven months to go, the question now is whether South Korea can recreate the same magic.
As the country gears up for these Games, it faces the same Olympicsized problems that have plagued other host cities (think Sochi or Rio) — problems such as ballooning costs or a slew of leftover empty and unused venues.
But PyeongChang also faces fresh obstacles.
The Olympics have been hindered by sluggish ticket sales, worries about venue maintenance and a lack of media buzz for a country with few historical ties to winter sports. And after one of the biggest political scandals in its history, the Games must work to win over a disengaged public trying to move on from the ousting of president Park Geun-hye, who, after weeks of peaceful public protests, was impeached this past December over charges of corruption.
Some Olympics organizers are hoping the Games will help stitch together a populace torn apart by political uncertainty.
“The nation needs healing right now,” said Lim, the Olympic committee spokesperson. “I believe (the Olympics) really heals the people.”
LESSONS FROM THE PAST
As of June, one of the largest question marks for these Olympics — will the great venue construction dash be done in time? — had a clear answer. After several delays, three facilities were fully complete, five were nearly there and three others hovered around 77 to 88 per cent. In total, the infrastructure budget, which includes venues and the high-speed railway, has cost about $12.5 billion. That’s more than the $4 billion to $6 billion spent in Rio, but less than the $50 billion spent for the Winter Games in Sochi.
In the lead-up to the 2018 Games, however, some critics have sounded a familiar alarm: What should the country do with all these facilities, after the party has left town?
Korea can look to its own past for guidance.
Around the time South Korea cohosted the FIFA World Cup Games in 2002, the Seoul Metropolitan Government became aware of a growing problem.
Too many venues were serving too few purposes. Besides the 10 stadiums used for the FIFA games, 34 venues had been either newly constructed or renovated for use in the Seoul Olympics, and most were sitting lifeless or used only partially.
Anxiety among Koreans was high. The cost of managing and operating the facilities was “huge,” said Choi Yoon-sik, director of the Sports Facilities Management Center at the Seoul Metropolitan Government.
“There was controversy and questions over the use of stadiums when the new stadiums for the World Cup were built,” said Choi. “It became a hot issue.”
Then came an idea: The Seoul government created the Sports Marketing Division in 2012, a small branch in its sports marketing centre. The division was a robust group with one goal — to aggressively and strategically market the city’s wealth of venues, and generate profit.
The division began coaxing in professional soccer, baseball and basketball teams. The 100,000seat main stadium was advertised as the perfect large-scale venue for K-Pop music concerts. The Olympic-sized swimming pool was outfitted with a fitness centre, spinning room and diving pool to make it more attractive to residents.
Today, the old Olympics neighbourhood in Jamsil, in eastern Seoul, is a sports and cultural hub. All 34 Olympics facilities across the country are in use.
Several venues house professional teams, and the main stadium has hosted the likes of Lady Gaga and mega-Korean boy group EXO. The pool now sports more than 8,600 memberships.
On a weekday afternoon, it’s buzzing with the energy and activity of any thriving local community centre.
In the next decade or so, as part of the city’s regeneration project for Jamsil, a mass multimillion-dollar renovation effort is in the works to renovate the Olympic facilities and add a convention centre.
The Sports Marketing Division was no small feat. Every year since its creation, it has seen an increase in revenue.
The division was so successful that it expanded and officially launched as an independent department in 2014.
In the most recent fiscal year, Choi proudly touted the total revenue generated from the facilities was $44.8 million, with a profit of about $7 million.
He had a simple, modest message for those in charge of PyeongChang’s venue plan, postOlympics.
“They have to think about how to use the venues for multi-purposes — they might use them for concerts or conventions,” Choi said. “If necessary, they could also introduce a sports marketing division like the one we have here.”
Heine, from Western University, praised Seoul’s post-Olympics venue plan.
“Just in terms of the civic facilities at the Games, they are functioning to this day, and I would have to say you do not find that at every Games,” Heine said. “So that’s a very big plus, in my opinion.”
‘TO LEAVE NO WHITE ELEPHANT’
Back in current-day PyeongChang, about a 2 ½-hour drive east of Seoul, organizers are determined to find their own success.
As Lim Song-jae stood at the top tower of the Alpensia Ski Jumping Centre, about 50 metres above ground, the manager of the Games’ international media relations team sounded confident.
PyeongChang sprawled below as he pointed out the lay of the land: a vista of green mountains, dotted in the foreground with buildings, venues and lodging — some newly built for the Games, and others remnants of the city’s tourist reputation as a hiking and skiing hub.
These Olympics will be the “most compact ever,” said Lim, with all venues from the PyeongChang Olympic Stadium within a 30-minute drive.
Even better, there’s a plan for most of those facilities once the Games packs up its bags and leaves.
“We have 12 venues that need a concrete legacy plan after the Olympic Games, to leave no white elephant,” Lim said.
The venues are spoken for by a mix of public and private organizations. Universities have stepped in to claim the Olympic Sliding Centre and the Kwandong Hockey Centre.
The city will take hold of the Gangneung Ice Arena, which will be converted into a multi-use facility that houses a theme park, shopping mall, gym and pool.
There are three venues whose futures are not spoken for: the Jeongseon Alpine Centre and the Gangneung Oval speed skating venue, whose fates are expected to be decided at the end of 2017, and the Gangneung Hockey Centre.
“It doesn’t mean we haven’t had proposals from someone, but we wanted to review the proposals and give a concrete legacy plan for the best use possible,” Lim said.
Worries remain over exorbitant projected maintenance costs, post-Olympics.
Of six of the Games venues, a deadline to figure out a legacy plan for the Gangneung Oval in particular looms large. The oval is expected to incur the largest operating deficit at $3.6 million (the other five make up $3.4 million in total).
Even after accounting for operation revenue for all six venues, that will still leave a projected deficit of $7.1 million.
Lim said he does not have numbers for the other venues, as they are either existing ski resorts or will be public or non-sport facilities.
They have to think about how to use the venues for multi-purposes — they might use them for concerts or conventions.
However, a report in 2015 — before post- Games plans for some of the venues had been decided — projected the yearly cost for maintaining the facilities after the Olympics at just over $23.7 million, with a yearly deficit to Gangwon province and other local governments of more than $18 million, after revenue was accounted for. The review was put together after examining a feasibility study by the Korea Development Institute.
Gangwon, which houses PyeongChang, Gangneung and Jeongseon, is counting on spending by tourists to help sustain the viability of the venues in the coming years.
“Gangwon Province hopes to continually attract tourists to the province for future sporting events, meetings, conferences and exhibitions and we want to offer them state-of-the-art facilities,” Lim said.
“With a concrete legacy plan for Gangneung Oval and continuous support from the administration, POCOG believes that PyeongChang 2018 infrastructure legacy plan can become a great example to future hosts,” Lim said, noting that the country’s newly elected president, Moon Jae-in, has pledged his financial support for the facilities postOlympics.
That support means a lot, considering the turbulent circumstances in which these Games came about. Venues aside, they have made headlines for a scandal largely outside of organizers’ control.
GAMES WITH A BACKDROP OF SCANDAL
In December 2016, the country was rocked by the presidential impeachment of Park Geun-hye, after she was charged with bribery, extortion and abuse of power tied to her alleged business collaboration with a longtime confidante, Choi Soon-sil.
At one point, several reports indicated Choi allegedly attempted to pocket profits from deals related to the Olympics. Lee Hee-beom, president of the PyeongChang Organizing Committee, vehemently denied it.
“I admit that the Winter Games have been the target for such corruption but I can clearly say that no such attempts actually materialized,” Lee told reporters in January, adding that most of the construction contracts were made before the Choi allegations emerged.
The scandal dampened much of the interest for the Olympics. Koreans were, to state the obvious, a little distracted.
“I can’t say we were completely free from these political influences,” Lee admitted later in April — one month before the presidential elections on May 9. “I think most of the Korean public is hearing more about the upcoming elections and less about PyeongChang.”
Furthermore, big businesses were scared away from the negative news coverage associated with Choi and the Games, and the organizing committee struggled to reach its sponsorship target of just over $1 billion.
“Firms were asking us to delay the announcement” of their sponsorships,” Lim said. “It was a huge hit on our image. Even though we weren’t implicated in the scandal, the public’s view in general on sports has been negative in the past months.”
Now that Park has been impeached — and a new president has been elected — Lim said there has been a better atmosphere. The team had already partnered with five new sponsors, and he was “confident” they will reach their target.
Olympic committee president Lee expressed similar optimism: “After May 9, the single biggest event for Korea will be the Olympics. I always say, when the spring winds blow, spring will indeed come. And once the Olympic season comes upon us, then I hope the mood will ripen for the Games.”
Olympic organizers are counting on 70 per cent of ticket sales to come domestically — which makes South Korean engagement crucial to the Games’ success.
IF YOU BUILD IT, WILL THEY COME?
A nationwide survey in April, before the election, showed more than half of South Koreans (55 per cent) believed the country’s first Winter Olympics would be successful — although only 35 per cent of people said they were interested in the Games. Nearly 85 per cent said they’d rather watch them on TV than attend.
Ticket sales have been sluggish. In the first phase of domestic ticket sales earlier this year, organizers received applications for 380,000 tickets, and eventually allocated 162,000, even though the reported goal was 600,000, according to Agence France-Presse.
That’s barely a quarter of tickets sold, with most of them going to sporting events the country excels in, such as figure skating and shorttrack speedskating.
Still, organizers are hoping to ultimately sell 1.18 million tickets. The next round of sales begin in September. Ticket prices on the official website range from $22 for cross-country skiing, to $1,008 for prime seats at the men’s gold medal hockey game. About half of all tickets are priced below $90.
“POCOG is confident that we will be able to meet our goal of selling 90 per cent of available tickets, because the excitement and interest for the Games is growing and POCOG will have many public engagement activities leading up to the Games,” Lim said.
That excitement hinges on South Korea’s young athletes. Now that figure skating superstar Kim Yuna — a past Olympic champion, World champion and Four Continents Champion — has retired, the country has no obvious beacon to turn to as its next winter sports hero. South Korea is a powerhouse in speed and figure skating, but it drops off from there.
Lim noted several “rising stars,” including cross country skier Kim Magnus, the runner-up at the 2016 Junior World Championships; Cha Jun-hwan, a 15-year-old figure skater who placed first in South Korea’s 2017 nationals; and Yun Sung-bin, a Korean skeleton racer who participated in Sochi, where he finished near the back of the pack in his heats.
While accomplished, none of them is a household name in South Korea.
Kim Sang-yeol, a 34-year-old café owner in Sokcho, about a 50-minute drive from Gangneung, said when he was younger there was little education about Winter Games athletes in school, and that he’s more interested in the Summer Olympics.
“People where I live don’t talk about the (PyeongChang) Olympics,” he said. “There are no Winter Olympic stars in Korea. I’m not much interested, but I’ll try to buy a ticket for the ice hockey game. If it’s too expensive, I’m just going to watch on TV.”
Gemma Gil, a 26-year-old sociology and statistics major who lives just outside of Seoul, said half a year out, there’s little Olympics chatter among the people she knows. And she can’t think of one athlete who would qualify as the country’s biggest winter sports star.
“I don’t really care much ... not many people or media talk about it. There’s some commercials about the Olympics, but not a lot. Of course all people know it’s happening next year, but don’t really care about it for now.”
The apparent lack of buzz has not solely been a domestic phenomenon, either.
“I find it striking how little (international) attention these Games have received so far,” said Michael Heine, the Western prof.
“PyeongChang is a very low profile media event because there’s no scandal,” Heine said. “Rio was full of scandal reporting, and Sochi of course received a lot of critical investigating in regards to suitability and the absolutely astounding cost. In the run-up to the Games ... problem always draws first attention.”
Lim, however, contested the notion that the Games aren’t receiving interest. Koreans are “excited,” he said, and have shown it by coming out to organizers’ Olympic “test events,” including selling out the weekend games for figure skating and short-track speedskating.
Even more, Lim said about 79,000 local people made up 86 per cent of the total Olympic volunteer applications in the initial call-out round.
“Our people are very interested in being part of the Games, despite the political turmoil earlier this year,” Lim said, adding that the “stability that comes from a new leadership” will hopefully bring in more sponsorships and instil enthusiasm in the public.
Jung Chang-soo, CEO of Korea Tourism Organization, also doesn’t think “promotion marketing has been dulled because of the political situation in Korea.” He cited three major tourism expos Korea recently attended to drum up interest for the Games, as well as 31 tourism offices around the world.
Olympic officials won’t have to wait long — only until the September round of ticket sales — to see whether their renewed promotional push has made a dent in the Korean consciousness.
THAT HEALING SPIRIT
After raucous and gruelling political upheaval, proponents insist the Games may be just what today’s South Korea needs.
The Olympics, they say, point people back to what is good in human achievement, and give them reason to celebrate.
But can these Games really win over a distracted nation with few traditional ties to their winter sports? And will PyeongChang be able to leave an Olympic legacy that buoys the country, as opposed to saddling it with unsustainable venues and debt?
Lim is a believer. He said the Olympics’ healing qualities “will restore national unity,” come what may, after the Games conclude.
“The organizing committee is preparing the best Games ever to give to the public,” Lim said. “If you were in Rio or other successful Games, everybody is cheerful. I believe it really heals people.”