It looks as though the Olympic torch will not pass through Taiwan.
Too bad. This appears to be another opportunity that Beijing has lost to use the Olympic Games to promote positive feelings among Taiwanese toward China.
Other opportunities have already passed. For example, China made no serious effort to offer Olympic venues to Taiwan, although it correctly cited an International Olympic Committee (IOC) rule that limits the distance a venue can be away from a host city, China made no attempt to petition for an exception to the rule.
Though the chances are looking increasingly slim, it is still possible for China to find creative ways for these Games to show a more enlightened face to Taiwan and to the outside world.
The year that precedes an Olympic Games is around the time people begin to ask questions about the preparedness of the host city.
Athletes, coaches, officials, sponsors, the media and fans alike begin to take an interest in venue construction, infrastructure development to support the onslaught of people and even the environmental conditions that are expected at the time of competition.
And naturally, keen participants and observers will begin handicapping the various events and making predictions about the ultimate "medal count."
There is another type of conversation that intensifies around this time for Games of virtually any era -- a conversation about politics.
Though sports fans and so-called Olympic purists like to claim that the Olympics should be apolitical, the reality is that most Olympic Games have significant political overlay -- and much of that overlay is international in nature.
Just a brief review of Olympic history reveals politics as practiced by governments (the US boycott of the Moscow Games in 1980 to protest the invasion of Afghanistan and the reciprocal boycott by the Soviets of the Los Angeles Games in 1984), by individuals (the "black power" sign displayed on the medal platform by Tommie Smith and John Carlos at the Mexico Games in 1968 to support civil rights in the US) and, sadly, even by terrorists (the brutal murder of Israeli athletes by the Palestinian Liberation Organization at the Munich Games in 1972).
In a few instances, the political issues of greatest significance surrounding an Olympic Games combine questions of the host nation's internal domestic politics and international issues.
Such Games are where a country and its political leaders have an important internal agenda associated with hosting an Olympics -- beyond simply being good for the economy and international prestige -- as well as a secondary political agenda aimed at the rest of the world.
Examples of such Olympic Games include Berlin 1936 (Adolf Hitler sought to consolidate domestic support for Nazism at home, but also to communicate Aryan supremacy to the international audience), Sarajevo 1984 (where Yugoslavian leaders desperately tried to stave off civil war by building national pride and unity around the Games) and Seoul 1988 (South Korean president Roh Moo-hyun sought to accelerate political reforms at home as well as signal new attitudes on intra-Korean differences).
Political leaders in each of these three instances counted on particular forces being unleashed through something we might call "the international spotlight effect."
Knowing intense global attention and scrutiny would be on their host cities for a solid two weeks, the Olympics represented a chance for a showcase event that could help transform domestic politics in the direction of their design and intent.
However, the results were mixed. In 1936, Jesse Owens single-handedly disproved Aryan supremacy by winning four gold medals, and Hitler's reputation suffered internationally when he refused to attend Owens' victory ceremonies.
The Balkans descended into civil war a mere decade after the Sarajevo Games, and even Olympic venues weren't spared in the attacks.
Only Seoul, it would appear, enjoyed success in using the Olympic Games as an accelerant in political transformation as intended by the political leaders of the day.
In fact, many analysts cite the experiences associated with hosting the 1988 Olympic Games as the key incentive for the South Korean leaders to move forward with ending martial law and endorsing political reform.
It strikes me that, from a political perspective, the 2008 Olympics are shaping up a bit like 1936, 1984 and 1988.
Chinese political leaders are desperate to use the Olympics as a showcase to domestic audiences to increase constructive national pride and to display modernity, competence and control as the rightful and legitimate leaders of the nation.
And to international audiences, China seeks to present its case for "peaceful development," as well as its arrival on the international stage as a responsible and trusted great power.
If you agree with my comments above, then the key question still to be answered is which historical case will China's experience most closely resemble after the international spotlight has come and gone -- 1936, 1984 or 1988?
Will China's time in the spotlight reveal a country that is out of step with mainstream international concepts of human rights and dignity (1936), a country that is grossly under-prepared for internal challenges and domestic turmoil (1984) or a country that is committed to modernization, reform and constructive international behavior (1988)?
To date, the data we can glean suggests the situation is still fluid.
On the positive side of the ledger, one might cite China's aggressive environmental clean-up as a signal of a coming responsible stakeholder.
On the other hand, there are many cases where Chinese authorities seized property and dispensed with workers and residents at a moment's notice in the name of Olympic development -- a signal that the Games are in no way leading to a more enlightened view of the value of the individual human condition.
Taiwan was inevitably drawn into this discussion about China's Olympic experience, and the manner in which China deals with Taiwan may speak volumes as to which historical example China may resemble most closely.
At this juncture, the data is relatively scarce. As stated at the outset, opportunities are slipping by.
But there is still time to seize upon remaining opportunities and to positively address some of the associated questions that lie ahead.
What level and type of officials will be allowed to accompany the athletes to Beijing to attend the opening ceremony?
How will Taiwanese medal winners be treated (for example, what anthem will be played if Taiwan wins a gold medal)?
And the question that perhaps carries the greatest symbolic stature: Under what flag will Taiwan's athletes march during the opening ceremonies in Beijing?
It is true that these questions have been addressed in the past by the IOC, and China need not deviate from past practice.
But should China choose to strive for more, I have a modest proposal.
China should encourage Taiwan to decide for itself under which flag it will march into the Olympic Stadium in Beijing on Aug. 8 next year -- through a referendum.
China would in one deft maneuver secure many positive outcomes by suggesting Taiwan hold a referendum on the flag: It would represent a Chinese expression of support for Taiwanese and respect for its democratic achievements; it would redirect Taiwanese energies away from questions of true political sovereignty toward a more benign venue for symbolic statements; and it would communicate to the international community a spirit of peaceful intent to resolve differences with Taiwan.
For Taiwan, much would also be accomplished with a referendum on its Olympic flag. It would serve as a vehicle to explore, discuss and express opinions about national identity; it would do so in a way that avoids more provocative discussions on changing the Constitution or the national flag (after all, Taiwan already marches under the Olympic flag); it would eliminate a point of embarrassment and shame (some of the most repugnant regimes in the world including North Korea, Iran and others march under their own national flag, while Taiwan is relegated to the Olympic flag); and it would be a vehicle to further strengthen Taiwan's democracy with the completion of a successful referendum (unlike the 2004 efforts, which failed to attain the required participation of 50 percent of the electorate).
I realize my modest proposal may stand little chance with leaders in Beijing. But perhaps they will be moved by the spirit of the Games and the inspirational Latin words that serve as the Olympic motto: "Citius, Altius, Fortius" (Faster, Higher, Stronger).
Or, perhaps they could be moved by cold, hard, pragmatic calculation of interests.
Who can forget the sight of a unified Korean Olympic team entering Sydney's Olympic stadium in 2000 waving to fans while marching under a "Korea Unity" flag?
Are Beijing's leaders confident enough in their "fellow countrymen" in Taiwan that Taiwanese voters might actually choose a flag representing Chinese unity all on their own?
Perhaps they don't even need such confidence to see that such a benign expression of Taiwan's desires would be in China's interest.
Doesn't Beijing win in every scenario of a referendum just by virtue of the confident face it would show the outside world?
If China casts aside my modest proposal, let's at least hope that it has the wisdom and the courage to extend a friendly hand to Taiwan's Olympic team and to the people of Taiwan on all matters related to the Games.
If China does at least this much, everyone will be able to take pride in the competition and a Games that are well-played -- without the uneasy feeling that the wrong kind of history is repeating itself.
Randall Schriver is former US deputy assistant secretary of state for East Asian and Pacific affairs and a founding partner of Armitage International LC.
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Randall Schriver on Taiwan: The 228 Incident and American perceptions
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