When the Olympic flame flares to life on Aug. 8, Chinese hearts all around the world will glow with pride.
If the Communist Revolution of 1949 showed that “the Chinese people have stood up,” then the Beijing Games will show that China is stepping out – an economic superpower, a player on the world stage, a force to be reckoned with.
But the proud, confident, forward-looking country that is supposed to have its formal debut in Beijing is only one side of modern China. Its twin is insecure, angry and resentful, often frightening its neighbours and worrying the wider world.
China has shown both sides in the months leading up to the Olympics. First came an ugly explosion of anger over the West's sympathy for the uprising in Tibet, then a surge of civic spirit after the devastating Sichuan earthquake.
Which will prevail? “Good” China, self-assured, helpful, dynamic; or “bad” China, peevish, obstructive, threatening? The answer hangs on the powerful, complex force that is modern Chinese nationalism.
The Chinese are a proud people – proud of their 5,000 years of continuous civilization, their language, cuisine, arts and sciences, and, most recently, their breathtaking ascent from pauper state to economic dynamo.
They are especially proud of their recent advance because it is a comeback story. The century or so leading up to China's rise featured one disaster after another: first the crumbling of the imperial dynasty and the descent into warlordism; then years of struggle between nationalists and communists, with invasion by Japan throw in; then the isolation, poverty and extremism of the Mao Zedong years that crested with the tumult of the Cultural Revolution.
As long ago as the late 19th century, Chinese nationalist reformers dreamed of a China “rich and strong.” Now it is on its way to being both, with the Olympics symbolizing nothing less than the realization of the century-old dream of national revival.
A poll this week found a staggering level of optimism for the Olympics, with more than nine out of 10 Chinese believing the Games will be a success and boost the country's image in the world. More than 80 per cent of those polled for the Pew Research Center were happy with China's direction and economy – a snapshot of the country's rising confidence.
But with countries as with people, boastfulness often masks insecurity. As the new kid on the block, China doubts whether the rest of the world – and especially the West – will accept it as an equal. In fact, many Chinese are certain that Westerners are determined to deny China its place in the sun.
That makes the country and its leaders acutely sensitive to criticism – of its human-rights record, support for foreign dictators or dubious product-safety standards. “Their feeling is: ‘Yes, we know we have problems, but look how far we've come and look what we've achieved. Why are you constantly pounding on us?'” says veteran China scholar Bernard Frolic, who is writing a book on Canada-China relations.
That feeling has deep roots. The Western world got a first taste of Chinese fury when the Society of Right and Harmonious Fists, otherwise known as the Boxers, massacred more than 200 foreigners in Beijing in 1900 in a paroxysm of rage over foreign domination of their homeland. Six decades later, the wild-eyed xenophobia of Mao's Red Guards showed the extremes nationalism could reach under the sway of radical ideology.
As the country emerged from isolation, joined the world economy, effectively abandoned Marxism and began the climb to prosperity, it seemed reasonable to expect those passions would fade. The Olympics, many hoped, would showcase a new, more open and cosmopolitan China.
