Covid denial at the source
There is little room for recrimination in the heroic narrative spun in Wuhan by Chinese authorities, Didi Tang reports.
There is hardly any discussion of the government’s initial botched responses to the pandemic, as Beijing shapes the ‘‘correct collective memory’’.
Ayear ago, the hitherto unknown Chinese city of Wuhan became notorious as a new and deadly virus took hold there. A year on, the city is doing everything it can to put the past behind it.
With the coronavirus in China largely contained, an exhibition has opened in Wuhan’s conference centre, which was once used for quarantine.
The displays are hagiographic about President Xi Jinping. He is congratulated for having had the courage to lock down the city of 11 million people, and for his tender heart when supposedly, mindful of the plight of the Wuhan people, he could not sleep on the eve of the Chinese new year. The exhibition ends with a wall of heart-shaped sticky notes congratulating officials and healthcare workers.
There is only one mention of Li Wenliang, the Wuhan ophthalmologist who warned his friends of the danger of the virus on December 30, 2019 but was censured by police for spreading false information. For the next two weeks, Wuhan health officials kept telling the public that the virus was not transmissible among humans.
Without proper protection, Li caught the virus. His death in February briefly spurred calls for more freedom of speech – but the authorities swiftly cracked down on anyone posting online, and claimed that they would thoroughly investigate his death.
In the exhibition, Li’s photo is displayed along with those of other medical workers who died from the virus. In Wuhan central hospital, there is no sign that Li, now a household name, ever worked there, or that the hospital has lost six doctors to the virus.
Whereas the exhibition hall has a constant flow of visitors, eight kilometres to the south, a seafood ‘‘wet market’’ where the outbreak is thought to have begun is strictly off limits, and most traces of its existence have been removed.
The Times was prevented from talking to a shop owner there who fell ill with the virus a year ago. I was told that no interview was allowed without approval from the city’s propaganda unit, before being escorted out.
The relief felt by many of Wuhan’s inhabitants that things are getting back to normal is such that anyone criticising the government’s response to the virus tends to get drowned out.
For bereaved families, the return to normal is bittersweet.
‘‘No-one cares about us, no-one is asking about us, but everywhere there are celebrations, as if it were a joyful thing,’’ said Zhai Mian, who lost her son to the virus. ‘‘They say Wuhan is a heroic city and its people are heroic people, but so many people have died? Whose responsibility is it?’’
The authorities are strongly pushing the official narrative that Wuhan, a composite of three cities on the banks of the Yangtze river, has every reason to celebrate its triumph against the virus.
It was the first city to experience an outbreak, when doctors were still scrambling to figure out the pathogen and had to call the unknown disease the ‘‘ mysterious pneumonia’’. The city’s unprepared hospitals collapsed under a sudden rush of patients. Hampered by insufficient and faulty testing kits and no proven treatment plan, medical staff were under extreme pressure.
With the pandemic contained by a strict lockdown, the government mobilised doctors and nurses from around the country to travel to the city for backup. Donations poured in to keep healthcare workers protected and stranded residents nourished.
Wuhan recorded more than 50,000 infections and 3869 deaths. The actual number is believed to be much higher, because many died without receiving a diagnosis.
A city-wide mass testing programme in late May uncovered no symptomatic cases out of nearly 10 million people. The city discharged its last coronavirus patient on June 4 and, 11 days later, released the last person from quarantine.
Wan Chunhui, 45, an investor, was one of the first patients to be admitted to Huoshenshan hospital, an emergency field facility that was completed in 10 days.
A fully recovered Wan has only positive words for China’s response. He agreed that information about the pandemic should have been controlled. ‘‘It was necessary to have positive reporting then, because the mental support was crucial to patients,’’ he said.
Wan is a critic of Fang Fang, a Wuhan novelist whose diary during the city’s lockdown drew both praise and criticism for its candour. ‘‘To me, Fang Fang’s diary was no different from killing people, because it could cause the mental support for some people to collapse.’’
In contrast, Zhai Mian, 67, a pensioner who lost her only son to the virus, has not forgiven the authorities. She is one of several family members who brought lawsuits against officials, although the court has refused to hear their cases.
She said the government not only covered up the pandemic but also failed to provide medical care after lockdown, resulting in the death of her son, a 39-year-old teacher.
‘‘If people had been wearing masks as they do now, and if he could get treated promptly, he would not have died. We feel we’ve been wronged.’’
Zhang Hai, who lost his father to the pandemic, said the virus had changed his views. ‘‘It used to be that I didn’t care much about many things and I believed what the propaganda told me. Now I will no longer believe it, but only my own eyes.’’
A year after Wuhan reported its first cases, there is hardly any discussion of the government’s initial botched responses to the pandemic, as Beijing shapes the ‘‘correct collective memory’’.
It was not until January 20 that Zhong Nanshan, a national health expert, sounded the alarm openly. As the virus spread around the world, Chinese state media began to push the narrative that the coronavirus had been imported, either by the United States military or through foreign foods.
‘‘It cannot be Wuhan’s virus,’’ said Tong Shilin, 65, who runs a spice shop. ‘‘An investigation will prove our innocence.’’