This past year in sports news has in many ways been defined by a shift in the role of the medium. A medium that traditionally has played the role of offering a means of escapism has more recently fallen subject to the mainstream demand for political activism that has defined the culture of the Trump years.
In 2018 that shift became even more apparent as it extended beyond the US, to international sports news with the Pyeongchang Winter Olympics, the first Olympic games of the Trump presidency.
A pair of countries with a violent history enjoyed a moment of bliss. In the midst of a heated feud that dates back to the bloody divide of the Cold War era, Koreans from both sides of the peninsula stood together in front of the whole world.
During the opening ceremony, North and South Korean athletes marched side by side, some waving the flag of whichever side they represented, and some waving a flag that simply displayed the Korean peninsula in its entirety, signifying unity between the two states. A co-op national ice hockey team was even formed with players from both the North and South to represent a united Korean national team.
As a first generation Korean-American hybrid, the imagery of this union was surreal. Not even as someone who identifies with the culture, but more so as an American. As an American, the hostile aura of Kim Jong-Un, and the Western mainstream lore of the Korean war is embedded into my consciousness, just as it is to the rest of the global public.
However, the subject becomes even more magnified from the perspective of the local Korean populous. The show of unity did not come without controversy, particularly among South Korean locals. Any association with the Kim Dynasty-led North is a big taboo in South Korean society, similarly to how association with the Trump administration is perceived in the liberal extremism dominated the culture of leftist America.
Even with my Korean heritage, I still view the conflict more with the lens of an outsider, which leaves me with the privilege to admire the co-operation of the two sides. Meanwhile, for the South Korean natives who have been directly affected by the gruesome reality of the Kim Dynasty, the idea of co-operation with their northern neighbors is a bit of a tougher pill to swallow. In fact, hundreds of protesters gathered in the streets of Seoul to protest the co-op, as was widely reported.
It was a polarizing move, but I see it is as a very relieving and compassionate gesture, particularly on the part of the North. To see the Kim regime cooperate in anything international is a rare occurrence. Even then, however, it is nothing more than a gesture for the sake of appearances.
On one hand, this year’s Olympics, being right in the middle of the Korean heartland, in proximity to both capitals, is an example of the beauty of sports as one of the great social unifiers in human history. In this harsh geopolitical climate, Koreans who may never know relatives on the opposite side of the border, with whom they may share a name and blood with, were gifted with a brief moment where they could cheer together for the same hockey team, and then agonize together after 5 straight defeats. (No one said Koreans make good hockey players).
And while this story is politically relevant, in the context of when and where it’s occurring, it also proves the role of sports as one of the great social and political distractions in human history. As mentioned before, this is a difficult geopolitical environment, where tensions between the North and South, and subsequently the North and the US, are as heated as they’ve ever been. Sanctions, weapon testing and verbal threats continue, and neither side has shown any interest in moving forward.
While North Korea did agree to “talk” to the US following the Olympics, it would hardly be the first time the two sides would agree to talk before disbanding without any progress whatsoever. The aggression of the Trump administration is unlikely to help bring the two sides any closer to a resolution, leaving that moment of unity as just that, a fleeting moment, a memory that either sours or warms the spirit of loyal Koreans.
