“N“Bringing politics into the Olympics? Crazy! Bye! Thank you!” To be fair to the group of Chinese fans outside the ping-pong court at Porte de Versailles, this is surely the most sensible answer to any question about the seismic ripples and ping-pong diplomacy angle of the meeting between China, across the pink and black Olympic table, and the country called Chinese Taipei, also known outside the Olympic non-reality as Taiwan.
These are not issues to be taken lightly. In May of this year, the Chinese government announced that it would consider applying the death penalty to those promoting Taiwanese separatism. This is a complicated proposition, as Taiwan has ostensibly already seceded, but it is just one in a series of maneuvers and pre-invasion discussions currently taking place across the strait. So it is probably best to keep quiet about these for now.
There are always moments like this at the Olympics. Second session, Sunday afternoon, South Paris Arena, third mixed doubles quarterfinal match. The draw put China facing their most coveted neighbour.
If the US intelligence is correct, this should be a rare and precious event, but considering that 2027 is the planned date for a full-scale Chinese military invasion, it will probably not be held at the next convention in Los Angeles. A few months ago, China conducted an exercise codenamed “Joint Sword-2024A” and released a video simulating a literal sea invasion of Taiwan. Have you ever felt like someone is trying to tell you something?
For now, on a calm, sunny day southwest of Paris, we were playing sport with the enemy, rowing across the divide, skirmishing instead of war. At least, that’s how it felt.
The table tennis hall is like a big school gym, fun, rambling and cheery: the stands are full, cheers and yells echo around the cagey roof, and there’s genuine sporting patriotism in the air.
China is dominating as a table tennis superpower, not just on the table but off it as well. Beijing has been selected to host the next five World Table Tennis Grand Smashes. Chinese flags were on nearly every level, not just held aloft but rippling and fluttering. Some even had huge stylized prints of their mixed doubles pair, with the word table tennis and Chinese characters written on them, like a rock-and-roll wedding photo of Kurt and Courtney.
And China has the dream team mixed doubles unit of Sun Yingsha, the world number one ranked women’s singles player, and Wang Chuqin, nicknamed “Lionheart”, the world number one ranked men’s singles player and the current golden boy.
Chinese Taipei was represented by the surprisingly youthful “Silent Assassin” Lin Yun-ju and Chen Su-yu, 30 and ranked 27th on the WTT list. They started out as fairly underdogs, but Taiwan’s Olympic team was a total compromise. Every bit of its presentation, from its fictitious name to its lack of a flag or anthem, was an act of erasure by China’s sporting cultural imperialism.
The two countries have historically viewed each other as misguided separatists, a situation that arose from China’s civil war and the flight of the former republican government to Taiwan. Until the 1970s, Taiwan’s avowed military goal was to “retake” mainland China, which may sound absurd now.
Instead, China has always considered Taiwan (which does not exist as a concept or name) a province of its own, does not believe Taiwan can have sports teams, and does not expect to be invaded. By the way, go back to your motherland with your significant microchip production capabilities, little brother. In this context, even the “Made In Taiwan” label, once the most common sticker in the world, carries a strong political message.
The Olympics have always been plagued by this issue. Eventually the “Lausanne Accords” required Taiwan to compete as Chinese Taipei (a delicate semantic compromise) and to drop the national symbol. Since then, the two countries have faced each other in past Olympic Games. When CTP beat China in badminton in Tokyo, the Taiwanese side was greeted with performative joy.
Relations have grown more heated since then. China has been openly hostile towards the new president, Lai Ching-te, whom it has branded a “dangerous separatist.” China has refused to rule out imminent military action. President Biden has also vaguely suggested the U.S. would intervene.
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Table tennis is a fitting arena for this kind of conflict, a shadow dance of complex, latent violence and controlled aggression. In Paris, the Chinese Taipei pair appeared in black suits to a polite, hostile semi-silence. The Chinese drew roars. Wang wore a red headband and red leg straps, his shirt glittering with gold sequins, a 1980s power-pop look.
But it was CTP who started strong, taking a 5-1 lead amid incredulous yells and screams from the crowd. Doubles is a strange game in general; it’s mostly about escaping the spot or jumping out of bounds as the ball bounces back and forth. It’s like watching a married couple passive-aggressively fussing about doing the dishes. There’s muffled shouts and sighs and, no, after you, the umpire sits oddly close behind a screen, with the tidy dignity of a tolerant parent.
CTP won the first set with a great opening and little fist bump, from which the Chinese pair fought back, Wang unleashing some thunderous forehands and hopping on his toes like a pelvic-era Elvis to sprint through the second set.
CTP had enough to take the third set, but an upset was still possible. At that point, Wang turned up the rotation again, swinging his arms, opening his shoulders and curling the ball over the edge of the table as he rallied at full speed. Taiwan was drawn in by more force and the final set flew by, with China winning 4-2.
It was moving to see players and opposing coaches at the end, nodding fondly to one another, shaking hands and sharing tender moments. As Wang left, he sent the crowd into a frenzy as he passed, and it was hard not to be drawn into the pageantry of someone else’s mega event, another star system.
China now plays South Korea in the final, followed by North Korea or Hong Kong. There’s no chance of any problems there. But this was a wonderful, inescapably peaceful moment all the same. Whatever happens next, whatever the merits of the hawkish rhetoric, the video simulations and the fleet rumours, Paris is ours.
