Reconnection, that is the games

Chen Guangbing's horizon is largely confined to Zhong Jie, a crowded pedestrian street cutting through central Shenyang, China, where he hawks peanuts, pistachios and cashews from a rickety wooden table.

But Chen, 28, feels something big and life-expanding is about to happen — broadening the world of his little nut stand, running the length of Zhong Jie, embracing Shenyang and illuminating the whole of China.

The Olympics are coming to Beijing in August, he knows, and for Chen and more than a billion other Chinese, the games are a milestone in this country's often dolorous history.

Up and down China's political, social and economic hierarchy — from new millionaires to farmers, party cadres and protesters — the country has embraced its role as Olympics host with an ardour and unanimity rarely matched in previous games.

The enthusiasm does not stem from the love of sports, though. Rather, the Olympics are being interpreted in China as a testament to how far the country has come over three decades of economic reforms and modernisation.

Beijing's selection as the 2008 Olympic venue is widely seen in the country as a blessing bestowed upon it by other countries in recognition of the Communist Party's achievements and as a show of faith in its promises to push forward with more changes, including political liberalisation.

Perhaps most of all, the Beijing Games provide the Chinese with a validation of their national pride, which is swelling after a long stretch during which most Chinese had been feeling left behind and cut off from their rightful place in the world.

Turn has come

“You're darn right it is a good thing, and I'll tell you why,'' Chen said from behind his display of nuts on Zhong Jie, his breath coming out in little puffs on a frigid afternoon in northeastern China.

“The Olympics go to a different country of the world each time. The countries all take turns. And now, it's China's turn.''

Kang Xiaoguang, a sociologist and researcher at Beijing's Renmin University, found in a survey conducted last year that hosting the Olympics ranked behind only economic progress as a source of national pride in China.

Kang said a tiny minority of hardline Communists objects to the games on the grounds that the $40 billion being spent on it would be better used to resolve issues such as unemployment.

An equally small minority of democracy activists believe China's political repression makes it unfit to be embraced by the world. But overall, Kang estimated, more than 90 per cent of China's population is proud that the Olympics is being held in the country.

“There is pride in China's national accomplishments,'' he said. “But even more important is the feeling that the rest of the world has recognised China's successes in recent years.''

The Communist Party under President Hu Jintao has seized on the games as a tool to stoke enthusiasm for its rule, to rouse the 68 million party faithful and induce the others to overlook its failings.

Conveniently enough, the Beijing Olympics coincides with the 30th anniversary of Deng Xiaoping's decision to open the economy to private enterprise and engage with the world, giving the party a second framework for celebrating its achievements. It has not hesitated.

To make sure the two-week Olympic festival makes China shine — and its government look good — the party recently called on a powerful Politburo Standing Committee member, Xi Jinping, to manage the preparations.

Naming such a senior figure as Xi, who is considered the most likely successor to Hu, was seen as a demonstration of resolve to make sure nothing goes wrong during China's moment in the sun, which is expected to attract an estimated 500,000 tourists and four billion television viewers around the world.

Already, though, critics of China are making themselves heard. Chinese officials have strongly condemned efforts by foreign human rights groups to use the games to forward their own political agendas by embarrassing China. Now, caught up in the enthusiasm, many ordinary Chinese have joined in.

At the Zhong Jie shops in downtown Shenyang, the image Chinese want for their country in this Olympic year was clear.

A poster of Michael Schumacher, the retired Formula One champion, hung opposite a poster of actor George Clooney in a shop trying to sell oversize Swiss watches at the Saiyang Department Store.

Across the street stood Fashion World, where Calvin Klein Jeans advertisements filled the display windows.

Above it all was a giant outdoor sign pushing adidas running shoes. It bore a large photograph of China's hurdles champion Liu Xiang, with Olympic rings and the inscription in Chinese, “Nothing is impossible'', followed by a translation into English, “Impossible is nothing''.