When Compulsory Quarantine Does Work
I consider myself lucky because I somehow almost entirely dodged the pandemic. As the virus spread throughout Wuhan in early February, I read all kinds of crazy news and messages on WeChat while skiing in Tahoe with my wife, who extended her stay with me at GSB since the pandemic made it impossible for her to return to China. In mid-March, as the pandemic died down in China, we became increasingly concerned about the situation in the US, so we decided to fly back home together — right before the flights were suspended between the two countries.
As I reflect on this experience, I’m surprised how much it taught me. There were cultural and normative elements to the country in which I was born and raised that I had never even noticed, and it was consistently difficult switching modes between two places at opposite ends of the cultural spectrum.
Crossing the border
As we crossed the border between Shenzhen and Hong Kong, my wife was diagnosed with borderline fever (37.5℃, while the benchmark is 37.3℃). We were immediately sent to a local hospital in Shenzhen by an ambulance, accompanied by a medical staff. The building we stayed in was a temporary accommodation built by the hospital for people like us, potential virus carriers, to stay until the test results came out. Because the building was temporary, it looked more like a cell. One bed, one chair, no Wi-Fi, no shower. Food was delivered to our door. Restrooms were shared by everyone living there, which was incredible considering some people among us might be carrying the virus. And of course, we weren’t allowed to leave the building.
14-day hotel quarantine
After two days of consecutive testing, we tested negative, but weren’t yet free to go. According to the emergency plan, everyone coming back from abroad would face 14 days compulsory hotel quarantine in whichever city they chose. In our case, we chose Jieyang city in Guangdong province since my mother-in-law lives there, and by the time we crossed the border, Jieyang still allowed people to go home for self-quarantine. As soon as we were released from the hospital, we were sent back to border control, then to Shenzhen International Airport, which acted as an emergency transportation hub for all people going to and from Shenzhen during COVID. In the airport, we waited for 12 hours before an ambulance from Jieyang City, run by the local government to pick up people at the airport, showed up.
However, as soon as we arrived in Jieyang we realized the local quarantine policy had changed; as a result, we had to spend the next 14 days in a small OYO hotel. For those who don’t know OYO, it’s an Indian hotel operator that helps low-end hotels in developing economies run their businesses. We were then confined in that 300 sqft room for the next 14 days. It wasn’t fun. And yes, we watched a lot of TikTok.
Reflections
There have been debates between personal freedom and public safety in many countries, and each country’s reaction to COVID is essentially a mass social experiment on a spectrum between these two opposing priorities. China is on one end of the spectrum. Though I culturally self-identify as Chinese, this approach also struck me as discomforting and ruthless. I kept asking myself if it makes sense to control the virus at such great individual sacrifice for people who are invisible behind the grand victory against COVID.
But I was enlightened by a doctor I met a few months later. He told me in March and April that he was responsible for taking x-ray examinations of potential COVID patients. Everyday, he had only one set of protective gear because the production wasn’t fully developed. From 8am to 5pm, he couldn’t take off the gear. He and other medical staff wore diapers and skipped lunch every day. I asked him how he felt about it. He said: “Let’s get through this together.”
I understood collectivism, I talked about it, and discussed it in GSB classrooms. But I didn’t “feel” it so strongly until that moment. It’s embedded in this culture so deeply that people won’t even notice it, nor will they even ask the question “Is it worth it?” because they already have an answer.
Looking at how the pandemic evolved in the U.S. made me reflect frequently. Trump’s “China virus” narrative was definitely not good news for me or my Chinese friends who live in the U.S. I’ve heard multiple cases from my friends where anti-Chinese sentiment caused degrading or violent action. But sentiment aside, I spent more time wondering what stopped the U.S. from taking necessary actions that could put a halt to this crisis.
I think in the end, it comes to the fundamental belief systems in the U.S. vs China. One country always stresses the importance of personal freedom. As a result, in the U.S. quarantine becomes a voluntary practice that’s highly dependent on an individual’s personal choice. If I don’t care about the policy, I’m legally free to go outside without much consequence. Even in a highly educated environment like Stanford, quarantine policy isn’t carried out 100%. China, on the other hand, is built upon the value of collective obedience. Individuals preferences don’t matter, because you’re supposed to sacrifice your own happiness to serve a greater good in case of emergency. It’s almost impossible to fathom a scenario where the U.S. government builds temporary hospitals, imposes compulsory quarantine, sends everyone who is contracted to a centralized quarantine location, and forbids everyone from leaving unless cured. It would be extremely challenging on many fronts: human rights, legal, individual willingness to cooperate, enforceability, etc. Needless to say, it’s also impossible to build enough quarantine locations today for the entire country.
Some people tend to look at China’s and the United States’ responses to COVID in an authoritarian vs. democratic comparison. But I don’t agree. Many other democratic countries did fairly well, though most of them still made mistakes in the early days. I’d rather look at it from a cultural perspective. Most East Asian countries reacted quickly and forcefully, effectively containing the pandemic. These countries all share collectivist culture — if you think about Singapore, Japan, and Korea — and people take it as a norm to sacrifice personal comfort for others.
Admittedly, there is no right or wrong about any culture. I’m often jealous of the liberal elements of American culture when facing interventions that I didn’t like. Of course, I’d like to say “Don’t mess with me, I’m on my own”. But everything comes with a cost. When you prioritize one thing, you need to pay the other.
