Li Wenliang: The Whistleblower Who Became Too Important to Smear

Posted on Apr 20, 2020

Accused of spreading false rumors, arrested and forced to retract his statements, Dr Li Wenliang was the first to sound the alarm on the coronavirus outbreak at the end of 2019. He passed away on February 7th, having contracted the virus himself. In a swift volte-face, Beijing has hastened to organize his long-overdue rehabilitation and recognition, co-opting his memory for their own purposes.

December 30th 2019. No one in China or anywhere else has heard of Covid-19; no one has the slightest idea of the unprecedented pandemic that, in a few short weeks, would blow up in the face of the world, bringing modern society grinding to a halt. Yet somewhere in central China, in the city of Wuhan with its 11 million inhabitants, a young doctor was already worried.

 

 

Li Wenliang was an ophthalmologist at the city's central hospital. He was 34 years old and would soon have had a second child. In December, he noticed the appearance of a new virus among his patients, a form of viral pneumonia resistant to the usual treatments that reminded him of SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome). The head of the emergency department at the same hospital, Ai Fen, not only shared his suspicions but had just sent him and other doctors, photos of test results that reinforced his suspicions, which she also shared with the department of infectious disease control.

 

 

Disrupting the Social Order

 

 

On December 30th, Dr. Wenliang decided to issue an alert by opening up about the situation to seven colleagues via the WeChat network. Two days later, in the middle of the night, everyone in the group was arrested by the police, accused of "spreading rumours" and "seriously disturbing the social order." Wenliang was questioned at length and threatened, but was eventually released after signing a document resembling a public confession in which he pledged not to commit any more "acts contrary to the law." 

 

 

Free to return to work, he resumed his consultations at the hospital where, a few days later, he was in turn contaminated by a patient. His condition quickly worsened. Hospitalized at the beginning of February and transferred to intensive care 48 hours later, he passed away on February 7th from the very virus he had tried to reveal the existence of. In China, his story created a firestorm.

 

 

The revelations about his attempt to raise the alarm, the pressure he had subsequently been subjected to, and his death only a few days after his contamination, led to an angry response from the Chinese people, who accused their government of a lack of transparency and questioned its handling of the crisis. As the tide of public opinion turned, the young doctor became both a martyr to the virus, the dangers of which he had correctly surmised, and a potent reminder of the importance of freedom of expression, which the ruling Communist party does so much to suppress.

 

The Chinese government could hardly claim to be ignorant of the dangers posed by infectious disease.  The SARS crisis, which occurred seventeen years earlier, had sufficiently marked the minds and traumatized citizens that the government equipped itself with a contagious diseases hotline enabling hospitals to alert the Communist Party of suspected cases and to swiftly mobilize efforts to contain the spread of any outbreak. Yet, when the health authorities discovered the exchanges between the eight aforementioned doctors on social networks, discussing an unidentified virus, they decided to disregard the information. Worse still, they spend days trying to cover up the issue and minimize talk of a pandemic, responding instead with a barrage of criticism and accusations. But, faced with a flood of anger over the death of the young doctor, Beijing was forced to back-pedal, commissioning an investigation by the party's disciplinary committee which decreed that the treatment he had received was "inappropriate," disavowing the police who made the arrests, apologizing to the family, dismissing those who had managed the affair and even reclassifying Li Wenliang from agitator to national hero.

 

 

From implausible denial to transparent apology

 

 

However, the government’s mea culpa has come much too late and its attempts to honor Li Wenliang too ham-fisted to quell the wave of indignation caused by the affair and the arrest of journalists and internet users who've openly criticized the Party's crisis management strategy. The official announcement of the health crisis and the confirmation of the virus’ person-to-person transmission was delayed until January 20th and the decision to quarantine Wuhan and its region was delayed until January 23rd. A few days earlier a giant feast for 40,000 families was held in Wuhan to celebrate Chinese New Year.

 

However, it must be acknowledged that after having for a time tried to deny the reality of the virus and minimize its scope, the Chinese authorities have drastically reversed their actions. And they have done so with such dedication that, for many informed observers, they may well have found the ideal alibi to accentuate their policy of social control, using the coronavirus pandemic as justification for increased monitoring of the population – the use of drones to ensure rules on wearing masks are being respected, increased facial recognition aimed at identifying offenders, geolocation of people at risk, etc. – When it comes to surveillance, the Communist Party's appetite and creativity seem to have no limits. 

 

China's Covid-19 surveillence is all the more effective as it also allows the government to enforce good behavior via China’s existing “social credit” system. Citizens who do not respect the new rules, may find themselves unable to obtain a bank loan or even buy a train ticket. 

Although they may have been stung by the Li Wenliang affair, the Chinese government’s art of transforming crisis into an opportunity remains undiminished.