By Eric Vandenbroeck
and co-workers
China's COVID-19 Politics To The
Test
With COVID-19
increasingly tamed, governments across Asia have been winding down some of the
world’s strictest control measures. In September, Taiwan announced that it was
reopening its borders and phasing out its quarantine policies; South Korea
lifted its outdoor mask mandate and scrapped mandatory COVID-19 testing for
inbound travelers. On 11 October, Japan will end a pre-departure test
requirement for travelers who have received at least one vaccine
booster and fully reopen its borders for the first time since 2020.
Even Hong Kong, which had emulated mainland China in maintaining stringent
border controls for more than two years, has decided to end all hotel
quarantine requirements for international arrivals. For all these
countries or territories, the pivot to a lighter, more flexible approach has
been driven by the growing recognition that COVID-19 is now a manageable
endemic disease and that harsh population-level containment has come at a very
high price.
Amid this rapid
normalization, however, China has instead doubled down on its
all-encompassing zero COVID strategy. In contrast to almost every
other country in the world, China continues to pursue stringent border
controls, aggressive isolation of close contacts, sudden closures of airports
and public spaces, and snap lockdowns of neighborhoods and even entire
municipalities. Having staked enormous political capital on zero COVID, China’s
leadership is loath to change course—particularly on the eve of the
all-important 20th National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party this month,
where President Xi Jinping is set to have
his 10-year rule extended. In city after city, officials are pursuing
excessively harsh measures to avoid any outbreaks that might embarrass the
government.
Officials are maintaining
COVID-19 restrictions in parts of Shenzhen, Guangdong Province, as of
October 3.
Beijing’s
intransigence has come at an escalating cost. Prolonged lockdowns of millions
of people in major cities such as Shanghai have devastated China’s
economy—which is now expected to fall short of growth targets
significantly—and provoked rising social discontent. The Chinese
government’s failures to implement more effective health policies, such as
authorizing mRNA vaccines and prioritizing the elderly in its vaccination
campaign, have meant that the population remains needlessly vulnerable to
future outbreaks. So the government faces a growing dilemma. On the one
hand, its zero-COVID strategy is sufficiently unpopular that few government
officials are prepared to endorse its long-term existence publicly, and
international pressure to abandon the policy is mounting. On the other hand,
political considerations and the lack of a clear alternative have prevented
Beijing from moving away from it.
Beijing’s
stubbornness is puzzling. Rather than reaffirming an increasingly untenable
policy, the Party Congress presents China with a crucial opportunity to rein in
its excesses. Once the congress has taken place, and political optics are
no longer directly in play, Beijing could begin to change its narrative
about COVID-19 and choose science over politics. Making effective
vaccines and treatments more widely available could bring its anti-COVID
policies in line with its Asian neighbors and help the population resume an
everyday social and economic life. At the same time, if under less pressure to
impress higher-ups, local officials would no longer have to rely on needlessly
aggressive lockdowns and other interventions at the expense of economic growth
and fundamental social freedoms. If China’s leaders fail to change their
approach, it may not only leave the country exposed to an unending cycle of
outbreaks and lockdowns; but also threaten it's
long-term social, economic, and even political stability.
Overprotected And Unprotected
Despite growing
evidence that zero COVID is doing far more harm than good, the Chinese
government has important motives for clinging to it. First and foremost is the
potential health crisis that relaxing the approach could entail. After two and
a half years of zero-tolerance policies, Beijing has created a situation in
which a very high percentage of its population has never been exposed to the
virus. According to official figures, China thus far has accumulated 996,000
infections. Even considering the potential problem of underreporting—which is
not a significant concern given China’s centralized PCR testing system—this
figure shows that only a tiny fraction of its population has been infected and
therefore carries some natural immunity. The Chinese Center for Disease Control
and Prevention (CDC) has acknowledged “China’s nearly unique situation of
having only vaccine-induced immunity.”
But the vaccine
picture is equally concerning. Although as of March 2022, nearly 90
percent of the Chinese population had received two doses of China’s non-mRNA
vaccines, studies now estimate that about six months after the administration
of the second dose, the antibodies triggered by these vaccines drop to a level
that is considered low or even undetectable. Because of this immunity gap,
Chinese officials fear a policy relaxation could be followed by a surge of
COVID-19 cases that would quickly overwhelm the country’s healthcare system. At
the extreme, this could lead to large numbers of deaths and consequent societal
instability.
Although such a
worst-case scenario may be unlikely, it cannot be ruled out because rural
healthcare systems remain fragile. China has a relatively large percentage of
older adults who are not fully vaccinated. (Perhaps because of the false sense
of security that zero-COVID policies have created, the elderly have not been
prioritized for vaccines and boosters. Notably, among Chinese who are 60 or
older, the two-dose vaccination rate is now 85.6 percent, and the booster rate
is just 67.8 percent—both admittedly lower than figures for the same cohort in
the United States.)
To understand just
how devastating a late-pandemic surge could be for an immunologically naïve
population, consider the fate of the Austro-Hungarian Empire at the end of the
Spanish flu pandemic. In his 2009 book Contagion and Chaos, the
late political scientist Andrew Price-Smith noted that the Austro-Hungarian
Empire was largely spared from the initial waves of the “Great Influenza” in
the spring and summer of 1918. But it was devastated by the third wave, which
appeared in the fall of 1918 and, he argued, helped precipitate the defeat of Germany and Austria in World War I and, ultimately,
the empire's collapse. According to Price-Smith, this devastating third wave,
coming after a relative dearth of cases in the first two waves, delivered
a profound shock to the social and economic system, becoming the proverbial
“straw that broke the camel’s back.” Although there are many differences
between Austria-Hungary and China today, it is easy to understand the extent to
which officials in Beijing may fear the consequences of a sudden unbridled
spread of the disease after keeping it at bay for so long.
Second, despite
rising discontent, Beijing understands that a significant portion of the
public—especially in smaller towns and rural areas—still strongly supports the
zero-COVID policies. People do so partly due to relentless state propaganda and
lack of access to independent information. For example, the Chinese media
frequently contrasts the number of infections and deaths in China with that in
the West and contends that China is achieving the best results in balancing
economic growth and COVID prevention and control.
But social adaptation
has also played a role: many people have come to rely on zero COVID to protect
them from the ravages they are told have taken place elsewhere in the world.
Indeed, hundreds of millions of elderly Chinese (and their family members)
appear to believe that Beijing’s harsh policies have effectively shielded them
from the virus—even though many of them are still not fully vaccinated or have
failed to obtain booster shots. As a result, if Beijing begins to scale back
the policies without being able to guarantee the safety of the elderly, it
could risk undermining the support it has so carefully built up over the past
two and a half years.
A third reason
Beijing is reluctant to abandon zero COVID is that vital interests close to the
regime benefit from it. Hundreds of Chinese companies, for example, have reaped
enormous profits from providing rapid PCR testing services, which China has
implemented on a massive scale. According to one report, in the first half
of 2022, China’s top ten testing companies raked in a combined 48.52
billion yuan ($6.8 billion) in revenue, with total net
profits of 16.3 billion yuan ($2.3 billion). And China’s
political leaders, having put so much political and economic capital into the
strategy, have an incentive to stick with it. As Xi told officials in June,
“Persistence is victory.”
Policy changes can
also provoke a backlash from China’s elite. Consider what happened in
Beijing in July 2022 when the city’s health administration attempted to impose
a new vaccine mandate. Under its plan, older citizens who live in retirement
homes or elder-care facilities would have to be vaccinated, and anyone
unvaccinated would be denied access to public facilities such as libraries,
museums, and movie theaters. Within hours, however, there was intense pushback
on social media—one reason was a lack of confidence in the safety and
effectiveness of the Chinese vaccines—and by the next day, the policy was
rescinded. The abrupt reversal was likely the result of pressure from retired
officials in Beijing, some of whom are vaccine skeptics and who may have used
their influence with the top leadership. Indeed, Xi had every reason to avoid
friction with party elders on
the eve of the Party Congress.
Indeed, a final
motive for Beijing’s attachment to zero COVID is the political calendar.
Because of the Party Congress, China’s leaders have not attempted to prepare
the state bureaucracy or Chinese society for the significant policy pivot that
ending the strategy would require. On the contrary, in the run-up to the
meeting, Xi has sought to send a clear and consistent message that his current
top domestic priority, the fight against COVID-19, has gone according to plan
and has been a resounding success. Any effort to rewrite the script might have
muddied the waters, creating doubts about China’s policy direction and making a
smooth transition less likely. As a result, despite ever-increasing social and
economic costs, the regime has done nothing to change the key components of its
signature policy initiative. These rationales have raised the stakes on what
will happen after the Party Congress is finished.
Zero Covid, Zero Growth
Once Xi has
been confirmed for a new term in office, his government will finally have
to confront its pandemic management problem. For the moment, the regime appears
unlikely to change its strategy. This is partly because Xi’s stature is
directly and inextricably bound up with the success of the zero-COVID policy. A
sudden policy shift is tantamount to admitting failure, which would risk
undermining his political authority within the party.
But China’s deteriorating economic outlook may leave Beijing
with little choice. Combined with the worst real estate crisis in a generation,
zero COVID has inflicted lasting damage on China’s growth model. According to
data compiled by Zheng Yuhuang of Tsinghua
University, 460,000 Chinese companies went out of business in the first half of
2022, and 3.1 million private businesses closed down, many of which resulted
from lockdown restrictions. In the second quarter of 2022, China’s economic
growth fell to just 0.4 percent. Major international financial
institutions have significantly lowered their growth expectations for China
this year.
Even the state-owned
Bank of China recently forecasted GDP growth of just 3.5 percent, far
below the 5.5 percent target of the government's five-year goal. The economic
downturn has also squeezed the finances of local governments. Except for
Shanghai, all of China’s 31 provincial regions posted a deficit in
the first seven months of 2022, dangerous shortfalls that raise questions about
whether zero-Covid programs can continue to be financed. The Bank of China has
estimated that routine PCR testing, covering just two-thirds of China’s
population, could generate annual expenses of 700 billion yuan (nearly
$100 billion).
For now, the Chinese
economy stays afloat mainly because of strong export growth, and some parts of
the country have been less affected by zero COVID. Despite the draconian
measures taken in Shanghai and other cities, the number of jurisdictions
disrupted by lockdowns remains relatively small. But this could soon change.
External demand for goods from China is in decline, and Chinese
companies are already reporting falling orders. At the same time, with minor
cases in many parts of the country, an ever-increasing number of areas have
been subject to snap lockdowns. Chinese state media reported that in early
September, COVID-19 infections were reported in more than 100 cities, “the most
extensive resurgence of the virus in the past two years.” Accordingly,
China recorded more than 3,500 high- or intermediate-risk areas,
the highest number since its risk classification system was launched in
February 2020. These outbreaks underscore the diminishing effectiveness of
Beijing’s total containment strategy.
If the government
persists in shutting down entire urban areas whenever a few cases arise, China’s
economic slowdown could become an economic crisis. A great decline in domestic
demand is compounded by a significant exodus of foreign capital and near-zero
economic growth. China’s stumbling economy has already led to youth
unemployment of 20 percent, the highest since the government began to release
such data in January 2018, and a potentially significant threat to social
stability. As the government faces these mounting challenges, how can it
end zero COVID without undermining its support?
Pivot Without Panic
Having held to their
strategy for so long, China’s leaders face a hard choice. They know they will
need to wind down the policy to put the country on a better economic footing,
but they fear it could lead to a larger public health breakdown. However, this
dire outcome can be avoided with a well-planned exit strategy. First, the
government can prepare the public for a pivot by changing how it talks
about the pandemic. China’s leaders would have to tell the truth about the
severity of the virus and the treatments available for it and allow the media
to encourage coexistence with COVID-19. This transition could be made more
accessible if the World Health Organization announces that it no longer
considers the disease a “public health emergency of international concern.” By
recognizing that the acute phase of the pandemic is over, such a declaration
would offer Beijing a whole scientific rationale for shifting its approach.
To prevent the
Chinese healthcare system from being overwhelmed, the government can and should
enforce triage measures that have worked in many other countries. These include
ensuring that only the most severe cases are treated in hospitals. In contrast,
people with minor or asymptomatic cases recover at home or, if conditions do
not allow that, in makeshift quarantine centers. The government should also
phase out its COVID-19 health QR code, used to demonstrate a person’s risk of
infection in real-time. This would entail abolishing the centralized,
state-controlled mass PCR testing and encouraging the use of at-home rapid-test
kits.
To minimize fear and
panic whenever there is a spike in cases, the government could stop providing
daily updates on the number of new infections and deaths. In addition, rather
than spending billions of dollars enforcing its zero-COVID policies, Beijing
should increase access to more effective Omicron-specific vaccines and
treatments. A nationwide vaccination campaign should be introduced as soon as
possible to ensure that more than 90 percent of the people over 65 and most of
the country’s population receive an mRNA booster shot. (As the October 16
opening of the Party Congress draws near, the government has begun to show
signs that it is taking the vaccination problem more seriously: In early
October, China CDC Weekly published an article calling for the immediate
vaccination of the remaining 10 percent of the population.)
With such measures in
place, a relaxation of policy by the Chinese government would lead to a
significant increase in Covid cases. But a well-designed exit strategy can
prevent the viral wave from leading to a mass die-off. Assuming 10 percent of
the population is infected in a short period, with a 0.1 percent case fatality
ratio, about 140,000 people, most elderly people with a chronic condition,
might succumb to Covid. That would be less than twice the annual deaths from
seasonal influenza, and China’s healthcare system would be able to withstand
the outbreak. The economy would be able to get back on track, and Chinese
people would learn to coexist with the virus, like their counterparts in the
rest of the world.
But a successful
U-turn on zero COVID is out of the question until the top leadership stops
portraying the virus as an existential threat. Although Chinese leaders
themselves have been vaccinated, they have until now only received China’s
ineffective home-grown vaccines. So far, there has been no indication that Xi
has changed his mind about the need for mRNA vaccines, given the dangers posed
by the Omicron variant. And yet he seems convinced of the virus’s severity: he
was perhaps the only foreign leader to send formal sympathy messages
to U.S. President Joe Biden and Japanese Prime
Minister Fumio Kishida over the summer when each of them had mild cases of
COVID-19. In mid-September, citing concerns about the pandemic,
Xi skipped a dinner with 11 heads of state at a summit of the
Shanghai Cooperation Organization, the economic and security organization of
Asian states that China took the lead in founding in 2001.
The 20th Party
Congress may place Xi in a
more secure position to pursue his favored policy agenda, but it will not
make COVID-19 magically go away. Without a deliberate change, China may soon be
contending with a policy whose consequences may be as far-reaching—for Beijing
and the Chinese people—as the pandemic itself.
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