China-0, World Cup-1: Xi Jinping’s World Cup Dreams Dashed
China Men’s National Soccer Team posing for a group photo before the Asian Zone World Cup qualifying match in 2008. Photo by Wikimedia.
In 2011, President Xi Jinping, a known soccer fan, told a South Korean politician his three dreams: for the Chinese national football team to qualify for the World Cup, for China to host a World Cup tournament, and for the Chinese team to win a championship of their own. Eleven years later, they are no closer to their goal as the Chinese continue a 20 year streak of failing to qualify. However, this is not for lack of trying. In 2020, China’s national team came under fire for naturalizing multiple Brazilian soccer players, even going as far to give them new Chinese names, in an attempt to qualify for the 2022 World Cup. Still, China lost the qualifier against Vietnam in a 3-1 defeat. 2002 was the only year China has ever qualified for the World Cup, when Japan and South Korea co-hosted the tournament. China’s performance was abysmal—the team lost all three games without scoring a single goal. Why is China unable to discover eleven star soccer players in a population size of nearly 1.5 billion? The answer lies in a combination of factors—including a lack of funding and political benefits, the culture surrounding sports, and ongoing COVID-19 restrictions, in more recent years—that contribute to China’s lack of soccer success.
In 2015, China released a reform plan that hoped to establish itself as a world leader in soccer by 2050, one fueled by both President Xi’s personal love of the sport and his hopes of using sport to increase his country’s soft power. The plan required all schools to implement soccer in their physical education curriculum and hoped to increase the number of soccer fields across the country. It also gave out political incentives like better public image to large Chinese companies such as AliBaba and Tencent to invest in its plan. This means the government would highlight and promote companies that are contributing to their goals, and political influence is awarded to companies who aid in Xi Jinping’s plan. By 2018, China’s prospects seemed on the rise. Fans were steadily increasing at Chinese Super League games, and the league brought in $3.34 billion dollars that same year. China also began work on a $1.7 billion stadium that it hopes will be the crown jewel of its eventual World Cup hosting. However, these improvements have hit a stalemate.
As in other countries, but especially in China, money and political influence are said in the same breath. Large companies and real estate developers are the primary backers of Chinese Super League teams. However, the government has been less vocal about its soccer reform plan as other issues like its zero-Covid policy overshadow it, and its initial political incentive of shining a spotlight on companies who are helping to reach those goals has diminished as a result. As companies are no longer receiving the same political support they enjoyed at the beginning of the reform plan, these investors have steadily withheld their earlier funding. A large number of these financial backers also happen to be property developers who are experiencing the brunt of China’s current real estate crisis, and many companies are even going bankrupt. Just last year, more than half of the teams in the Chinese Super League were unable to pay their players, with one player even reporting that he had to take out loans to support his family. Additionally, just months after winning the Chinese Super League title in 2020, the Jiangsu FC team was forced to dissolve after its main investor, Suning Holdings Group, experienced financial troubles and decided to focus only on its businesses moving forward.
The Chinese Super League’s lack of funding can also be attributed to the strict COVID-19 restrictions that are still in place in China. Athletic games are still being played behind closed doors with only a small number of fans allowed to watch. Not only does this financially impact club teams who rely on ticket sales, but it also severely impacts team morale—to the point where multiple players have left the teams. Unlike the rest of the world, which has almost returned to pre-pandemic travel rates, China’s streets continue to remain mostly empty, as the government enforces its zero-COVID policies and conditions do not look like they will be eased anytime soon.
Another obstacle that prevents China from training players that are competitive on the world stage is its youth development culture. In a country that prides itself on its education, young players often find it difficult to juggle both their rigorous academics and their duties on the pitch. Despite the surge of soccer academies and efforts to begin training children at a young age, players who do not show a natural talent early in life eventually quit to focus on their studies because parents are reluctant to hinge their children’s future on sports. It’s difficult to justify spending all those hours on the field when Chinese youth could be studying for the gaokao, the national standardized college entrance exam. China’s strict education system, which is known to prioritize outcomes based on individuality and rote learning, is also unconducive to the game of soccer, which requires teamwork, creativity, and improvisation.
Finally, China’s soccer issue is a Catch-22. A lack of competitive talent development has led the Chinese Super League to attempt to circumvent the deficit by importing an increasing number of foreign players over the years; but they still remain a tier below world superstars. China’s power on the global stage is unquestionable, but its impact in soccer is yet to be felt. Unexpected obstacles like a property crisis and a pandemic have slowed its growth. However, as any player knows, soccer or not, the game is not over until the whistle blows.
Kristy Wang is a Staff Writer for the Columbia Political Review and a junior in Columbia College studying political science and biology. Kristy can be reached at kw2933@columbia.edu.