Where is Peng Shuai? For a brief moment during the Winter Olympics last year I had an answer, of sorts, to that deeply troubling question. For there she was, suddenly and without warning, at the Big Air final, watching the Chinese‑American superstar Eileen Gu soar and spin through the Beijing sky to take gold.
At first I wondered from my vantage point in the press stands whether it was really Peng. The presence of the International Olympic Committee president, Thomas Bach, and a swarm of photographers, answered that. Soon images of the former Wimbledon doubles champion, who had not been seen in public for months amid concern for her wellbeing, went global. And then she was gone. A ghost in the machine again.
Meanwhile the 18-year-old Gu was fending off numerous geopolitical questions with the skill of a grizzled UN veteran, while promising that sport was a “force for good”. And when she was asked about Peng, she didn’t miss a beat. “I am really grateful that she is happy and healthy and out here doing her thing again,” she said, smiling.
Time has shown that statement to be detached from reality. Peng has barely been seen or heard from since she told L’Équipe at the Games that a social media post accusing Zhang Gaoli, the former Chinese vice-premier, of sexual assault had been “an enormous misunderstanding”.
In what was a controlled interview, Peng also claimed she had erased her social media post but didn’t give her reasons beyond saying: “Because I wanted to.” It all felt very unsatisfactory. But the IOC, which had helped to set up the interview and photo opportunity, could at least point to its soft-power diplomacy as yielding some sort of result. Peng was, at least, alive.
I have been thinking about those scenes at the Winter Olympics – and the wider lessons for sport – a lot during the past week, after the women’s tennis tour (WTA) returned to China for the first time since 2019 with its chequebook out and its tail between its legs.
In 2020 it had promised to stay out of China unless it was able to contact Peng directly and conduct a “full, fair and transparent” investigation of her initial claims. Then cold, hard economics intervened. In 2020 it lost $16.5m; in 2021, $15.1m. In 2019, the last year with Chinese events, the losses were just $1m.
Human rights groups were appalled. Those in sport I spoke to were largely unimpressed at the U‑turn, too, with some also noting how the WTA had made a big dance about female empowerment and equality at its 50th birthday celebrations in New York last month.
When I asked the WTA for its response to the criticisms, it offered a statement rich in blandness and platitudes. “We are excited to return to China and once again stage the fall China swing,” it read. “An opportunity for our players to compete in premium tournaments in front of our China fans and support our many longstanding and loyal tournament partners.”
Perhaps all that was missing was a white flag emoji. However, this is a story that goes beyond the WTA, which, for all its backtracking, at least made an initial stand. It also gives us a stark reminder of where the power really lies between sport and oppressive regimes.
Even now some in sport maintain an almost evangelical belief that they can change countries for the better. Perhaps Sebastian Coe put it best when tackled over human rights in Qatar at the 2019 World Athletics Championships in Doha. Sport, he replied, has a unique power to “shine the spotlight on issues” and is the “best diplomat we have”.
A similar message was conveyed by the then IOC president Jacques Rogge before the Olympics were staged in China in 2008. “The representatives of the bid have said, and I quote freely because I do not know it by heart, that awarding the Games to China would advance the social agenda of China, including human rights,” he insisted. So much for that, too.
Of course, regimes will sometimes become more liberal. Laws may be loosened, tiny freedoms granted. The crucial point, though, is that it is always on their terms, not sport’s. As Professor Simon Chadwick, who specialises in the geopolitics and marketing of sport, puts it: “It is difficult to identify a country anywhere in the world that has fundamentally and sustainably changed for the better as a result of sport.”
For leaders of such countries, hosting sporting events is about prestige, power, tourism, the economy and, yes, sportswashing. Saudi Arabia’s leader, Mohammed bin Salman, put it bluntly last week: “If sport washing is going to increase my GDP by way of 1%, then I will continue doing sport washing.”
Because of China’s oppressive and opaque political system we don’t know much about Peng’s situation. This year the WTA said it had been in touch with people close to her and was assured she is living safely with her family. But no one has been able to add detail to that vague and insubstantial claim.
In the meantime there is a sense that tennis is trying to move on, tune out and ignore the gigantic elephant in the room. The WTA tour has already moved from Guangzhou to Ningbo, while on Saturday the China Open begins in Beijing. That, incidentally, is where the country’s most famous tennis player lives. Just don’t expect anyone there to ask #WhereisPengShuai?
