Beijing Opening Ceremonies
----Beijing, Ditan Gong Yuan, PRC.
A bunch of friends and myself sat in Ditan park last night and watched China toast itself into the night with hundreds of fiery explosions; 2,008 drummers in long, red-rimmed white robes; and perhaps most dramatic of all, a tiny, pig-tailed school girl singing in front of 91,000 people.
From where we sat in the park, in central Beijing, we could see the sky turn electric reds and greens above the two jumbotron-ish screens that depicted China's at-times ludicrous festivities.
I'm well aware of the political symbolism inherent in having world leaders show up at the National Stadium as if to pay ancient tribute to China's one-party government. It was a bit unsettling (as James Fallows notes) to have goose-stepping soldiers hoist the flags. (Though: who else; and "Man, did you see how they hoisted the Olympic flag?!") And the camera pans past China's grim-faced leaders (with the notable exception of sparkly-eyed "Grandpa Wen") were an omnipresent reminder of just who has power in China, and what that may mean for the future of all those in this country we love and hold dear.
I was overjoyed, though, to see China celebrate in such a monumental way. For anyone who knows anything about China -- its history, its politics, its heart-warmingly kind people -- and anything of the various diplomatic and military humiliations it has been forced to suffer or forced itself to suffer over the past 100 years, seeing the young Chinese in the park participate in displays of overt nationalism seemed somehow less hollow and jingoistic than I would usually accuse such things of being in the West.
It was amusing, though, to see all the terrible journalism it spawned (though not photojournalism, if you caught The New York Times photographers). Seeing writers try to cram "lavish" and "exuberant" and "extravagant" and "5,000 years of history" and "civilization" and "culture" in a lead sentence with "fireworks" and "despite widespread criticism" and "human rights" was too much for a writer to bear.
Including my second last paragraph, the Games have already birthed some long-winded and polemically subjective passages. Let the Games of overblown prose begin!
A bunch of friends and myself sat in Ditan park last night and watched China toast itself into the night with hundreds of fiery explosions; 2,008 drummers in long, red-rimmed white robes; and perhaps most dramatic of all, a tiny, pig-tailed school girl singing in front of 91,000 people.
From where we sat in the park, in central Beijing, we could see the sky turn electric reds and greens above the two jumbotron-ish screens that depicted China's at-times ludicrous festivities.
I'm well aware of the political symbolism inherent in having world leaders show up at the National Stadium as if to pay ancient tribute to China's one-party government. It was a bit unsettling (as James Fallows notes) to have goose-stepping soldiers hoist the flags. (Though: who else; and "Man, did you see how they hoisted the Olympic flag?!") And the camera pans past China's grim-faced leaders (with the notable exception of sparkly-eyed "Grandpa Wen") were an omnipresent reminder of just who has power in China, and what that may mean for the future of all those in this country we love and hold dear.
I was overjoyed, though, to see China celebrate in such a monumental way. For anyone who knows anything about China -- its history, its politics, its heart-warmingly kind people -- and anything of the various diplomatic and military humiliations it has been forced to suffer or forced itself to suffer over the past 100 years, seeing the young Chinese in the park participate in displays of overt nationalism seemed somehow less hollow and jingoistic than I would usually accuse such things of being in the West.
It was amusing, though, to see all the terrible journalism it spawned (though not photojournalism, if you caught The New York Times photographers). Seeing writers try to cram "lavish" and "exuberant" and "extravagant" and "5,000 years of history" and "civilization" and "culture" in a lead sentence with "fireworks" and "despite widespread criticism" and "human rights" was too much for a writer to bear.
Including my second last paragraph, the Games have already birthed some long-winded and polemically subjective passages. Let the Games of overblown prose begin!
posted by iain.e.marlow at 5:43 PM
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