A winter thaw on Korean peninsula
The Pyeongchang Games, coming 30 years after the Seoul Games, may represent the best chance in years to get the peace process started
ierre de Coubertin, the founder of the modern Olympic Games, had famously said: “The most important thing is not to win, but to take part.” Now that North Korea has agreed to participate in the upcoming Winter Olympics in the South Korean city of Pyeongchang, that phrase has taken on a new meaning.
Throughout the history of the modern Olympic Games, separating politics from sports has been impossible. Perhaps it is not even desirable. After all, one of the Games’ primary objectives is to put sports at the service of peace and human dignity.
More broadly, sports have long played a politically constructive role on the world stage. At the 1971 World Table Tennis Championships in Japan, an American player hitched a ride on the Chinese team’s bus, inaugurating what became known as “ping-pong diplomacy”. Soon after, at the height of the Cultural Revolution no less, Mao Zedong invited the United States table tennis team to China, paving the way for former US president Richard Nixon’s historic visit there in 1972.
At the 1991 World Table Tennis Championships, again hosted by Japan, North and South Korea formed a joint team, and beat the odds to win a gold medal in the women’s competition. The camaraderie developed by the players helped them defeat the Chinese team in the final. For a brief moment, jubilant Koreans forgot their divisions.
In fact, South Korea may even owe its modern democracy, at least in part, to the Olympic Games. In 1987, with the 1988 Seoul Summer Olympics fast approaching, South Koreans succeeded in pushing the then-president Chun Doo-hwan’s military regime to hold a democratic election. This was a striking turn of events, given that Chun had conceived the Olympic bid as an opportunity to improve his dictatorship’s domestic and foreign image.
But the 1988 Seoul Games also had a dark side. North Korea, unable to reach an agreement with the South about how to share the event, ended up boycotting it altogether. And in 1987, the same year the Chun dictatorship collapsed, a Korean Air flight was downed, most likely by the North Korean regime, in an effort to disrupt the approaching election and discourage other countries from participating in the Games. In the end, the 1988 Games deepened the divide between the two Koreas, and the brief moment of shared triumph in 1991 would not be enough to reverse the trend. The South went on to open itself to the world, and the North hardened its isolationism — a process that intensified after the dissolution of the Soviet Union — and pursued the path of nuclear proliferation.
In 1945, George Orwell looked back at the 1936 Games and observed that, “serious sport ... is war minus the shooting”. The Games, he noted, are “bound up with the rise of nationalism — that is, with the lunatic modern habit of identifying oneself with large power units and seeing everything in terms of competitive prestige.”
Orwell wasn’t far off. At the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing, for example, the connection between sports and nationalism was on display. The Games were an organisational success, complete with brilliant new architecture. The fact that China ended up winning more gold medals than any other country undoubtedly heightened national pride. And the protests against China’s treatment of Tibet during Olympic torch relays around the world fuelled Chinese nationalism. Today, national pride is still a key focus for the political leader who had supervised the Beijing Games: The then-vice-president and now-President of China, Xi Jinping.
An armistice
Similarly, the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi helped to breathe life into Russian President Vladimir Putin’s then-ailing regime. Three days before the closing ceremony, Putin launched his military intervention into Eastern Ukraine, and annexed Crimea.
Now the Games are returning to the turbulent Korean Peninsula, where the two Koreas remain formally at war 65 years after agreeing to an armistice. Fortunately, South Korean President Moon Jae-in’s thoughtful, conciliatory attitude, which Kim seemed to reciprocate in his New Year’s address, has created a slight thaw. The South’s efforts to ease tensions by postponing joint military exercises with the United States, like the North’s decision to participate in the Games, should be welcomed. And, indeed, since then, there has been a steady stream of good news: the two countries will march together at the opening ceremony, and will even form a combined women’s hockey team.
The North Korean nuclear threat cannot be managed without negotiations. To that end, the Pyeongchang Games, coming 30 years after the Seoul Games, may represent the best chance in years to get the process started. Let us hope that the North Korean athletes’ journey from Pyongyang to Pyeongchang bears diplomatic fruit, and that “the Peace Games”, as Moon calls them, will be remembered more for the North’s presence than for the final medal count.
Javier Solana was EU high representative for foreign and security policy, secretarygeneral of Nato, and foreign minister of Spain. He is currently president of the ESADE Centre for Global Economy and Geopolitics and Distinguished Fellow at the Brookings Institution.