It's a cardinal rule of doing business in China: Don't criticize the regime. For decades, the rule has been tacit. Late last month, the Chinese authorities decided to make it explicit for a particularly sensitive sector.
At the end of a long-awaited revision to the country's law on sports, the authorities reserved the right to strike back at any country, region or organization involved in global sports that's perceived as insulting China's dignity and interests.
The provision's timing is no accident. Over the last three years, the Chinese authorities have become increasingly unnerved by the rise of activism by overseas athletes, sports leagues and brands. Unlike other forms of entertainment, such as Hollywood movies, China can't easily make censorship of football and soccer matches a habit.
So the authorities are betting that they can intimidate sporting interests with Chinese business ambitions to shut down the unfriendly activism altogether. It's a gamble that should lead athletes, brands and leagues to recognize that their businesses are becoming fundamentally incompatible with China's political climate.
Since Mao Zedong, China's modern leadership has viewed success in international sporting events as a proxy for geopolitics and China's growing global stature. For four decades, that's been a story of upward mobility.
In 1984, the country made its first modern Olympic appearance and managed to finish fourth on the medal table; these days it regularly competes at the top (at the summer games) and has hosted both summer and winter games. The Chinese state, which still controls most athlete training in China, is keen to take credit for these successes, and, during Olympic years, coverage of Chinese athletes (especially medal winners) is ubiquitous.
As Chinese sports fandom has grown, so too has interest in high-quality overseas leagues. China now provides the NBA and England’s Premier League football with some of their largest audiences and most devoted fan bases, despite a dearth of Chinese athletes in both. The Chinese authorities have been willing to tolerate that popularity in part because they aspire to be globally competitive in both sports, and shutting off access to the very best would be counterproductive.
It also helps that, until quite recently, these sports leagues were viewed as largely apolitical. Unlike Hollywood movies, which have been censored for decades, the NBA Finals aren't likely to offend the Communist Party's political sensibilities.
But as social media and other off-field action becomes as much a part of a modern sports as what happens on it, the Chinese regime unexpectedly finds itself playing defense. For example, when then-Houston Rockets general manager Daryl Morey tweeted his support for Hong Kong protesters in October 2019, China responded by blocking NBA broadcasts for 18 months.
Two years later, on the eve of the Beijing 2022 winter Olympics, China warned the arriving athletes that speech contrary to Chinese law would be “subject to certain punishment.” And in March, China censored a weekend of Premier League games due to planned pro-Ukraine shows of support by the league and players.
These warnings and acts of censorship have economic consequences. The NBA's broadcast ban, alone, cost the league “hundreds of millions” of dollars, and generated apologies from some of its most prominent athletes, all of whom are aware of the economic impact that Chinese fans have on the NBA and their personal earnings. Athletes, officials and leagues representing other sports surely got the message.
So, too, did China. The provision in the new sports law threatening to retaliate against perceived insults follows dozens of provisions outlining how China plans to boost its sports industry.
By 2025, it expects the sector to be worth $750 billion, up from $408 billion in 2020. To participate, an athlete, club, league or other sporting organization only needs to ensure that China's “sovereignty, security, development interests and dignity” aren't insulted.
The law doesn't spell out what constitutes an insult, whether that insult must take place within China, nor what kind of retaliation is reserved for those who cross China's red line. That's not unusual. Chinese warnings about censorship and expression are typically left vague so as to leave potential offenders wondering where the red lines are. For those who don't wish to cross them, a program of conservative self-censorship is usually the preferred course of action.
That leaves global athletes, their clubs and their leagues in a difficult position. In recent years the NBA, in particular, has embraced and encouraged the political expression of its athletes. That activism continues to grow, as does awareness of China's human-rights issues.
For example, in October Chinese streams of Boston Celtics games were blacked out after a player expressed support for the Free Tibet movement. It won't be the last instance in which a player outside of China expresses support for politics that offends the Chinese regime. But unlike in the past, the Chinese regime now reserves the right to retaliate.
The NBA did not respond to my requests for comment on China's new sports law and its potential impact on the league. But, sooner or later, it and other global sports leagues will have to address the consequences of doing business in a country that refuses to tolerate criticism from their athletes and officials.
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