The Clayton’s Olympic boycott
Before the US formally declared its boycott, our Government had decided not to send any ministers.
The absence of some countries’ political or diplomatic figures from the Beijing Winter Olympics next year might seem something China could have easily shrugged off on a suit-yourself basis. The watching world was never going to be looking fretfully beyond the efforts of the athletes, and the emotions of the medal ceremonies, and wondering ‘‘yes, but where are all those government representatives?’’
China’s rejection of a ‘‘pretentious act’’, and assertion that the boycott-leading United States hadn’t actually been sent an invitation anyway, might have stood as a confident dismissal. But the bellicose instincts that it all too often indulges again kicked in, and by seethingly warning of ‘‘firm countermeasures’’ it has acknowledged the sting of the reproach.
And so, by its very reaction, it has elevated this partial boycott beyond the realms of tokenism.
China fully deserves condemnation for its horrific treatment of the Muslim Uyghur minority, of pro-democracy leaders in Hong Kong, and its militaristic harassment of Taiwan.
But in what form? The politicisation of the Olympics has always been a fraught issue. In this case an Olympic truce was earlier signed by many countries, including New Zealand, but with significant exceptions including Britain, Canada, the US and Australia.
Before the US formally declared its boycott, our Government had already decided not to send any ministers – but wait! There’s less!
The ‘‘range of factors’’ behind this call did not include assessment of any diplomatic boycott, Sport Minister Grant Robertson says. It was more to do with Covid-19 and the logistics of travel.
Our Government, by explicitly distancing itself from the diplomatic boycott, now faces both the reproach of human rights advocates and the gratitude of our export sector. And, most likely, the indifference of China.
It is becoming increasingly difficult to balance the tensions between doing the right thing as a country with a conscience and a need to make a living as a small-nation trader.
In this case we find ourselves on the wrong side of the recent declaration – simplistic or not – from US Democratic House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. ‘‘Silence is inexcusable. It enables China’s abuses
. . . What moral authority do you have to speak about human rights any place in the world if you’re willing to pay your respects to the Chinese government as they commit genocide?’’
To nobody’s great surprise, least of all China’s, Australia is joining the boycott. Those two countries have been so emphatically at loggerheads that it would have been a major backdown of Scott Morrison’s government to have done anything else.
The Ardern Government still seeks to ring-fence its stance on human rights to minimise the potential for unwanted economic impacts. Against a large and all-too-often-belligerent nation like China, the risks are that either we put ourselves in a situation where it’s considered safe only to take human rights stances that are essentially inconsequential enough that they don’t draw serious reproach, or that we invite significant economic consequences we can ill-afford.
Which, at times, puts us in the cartoonish position of sitting on a fence while crouching in a way that at least gives the impression we’re standing up to be counted.