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Shanghai's undercurrent of
fear
By Patrick Scally
SHANGHAI - Sunday's news that China's severe
acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) problem is far from
under control and that both Zhang Wenkang, the country's
health minister, and Beijing's mayor, Meng Xuenong, had
been sacked caught the Shanghainese off guard. Radical
changes in party ranks, especially those coming so hard
on the heels of recent leadership changes at the
National People's Congress in March, signaled a problem
much deeper than most here expected.
On
Wednesday, Shanghai remained largely unchanged. The
elderly still gathered in parks at 6am to practice their
tai chi and socialize, to play cards and
people-watch. When rush hour hit two hours later, the
streets, just as on any other day, were clogged with
taxis, buses, bicycles and pedestrians, a honking
cacophony of chaos. The subway too was loaded to
bursting with commuters as well as children going to
school.
Two relatively new occurrences have
betrayed the undercurrent of worry and confusion. The
first is the ubiquitous mask, which first appeared in
the subway on random and otherwise inconspicuous
foreigners more than two months ago. Now the mask is
everywhere, hiding the faces of street sweepers,
policemen and businessmen alike. The second is the
incessant conversation. At the news kiosk, the noodle
shop, in elevators and bars, everyone is talking about
SARS. Two weeks ago the topic of discussion was Iraq;
that talk is long gone.
This is not to say that
the mask has become standard apparel. Fewer than 10
percent of people here wear them. Shanghai has yet to
become the bank robber's convention that is Hong Kong.
But masks have become much more common in offices and
among pedestrians. And they are increasingly hard to buy
as people are stocking up.
Brian Shao, a
business manager, reflected a common sentiment among
many Shanghainese: "Before Sunday's and Monday's press
conferences [in Beijing] I didn't give much thought to
SARS. I had plans to go to a school reunion in Shenzhen
next week but, like the majority of my classmates, I've
since canceled."
Shao said he is taking
precautions, although he has yet to don a mask. He takes
vitamins, especially vitamin C, sleeps more than usual
and tries to exercise. "I've got to be healthy, try and
relax and to wash my hands whenever I can. Anything to
help my immune system," he says. Indeed, by Thursday the
Shanghainese had adopted the mannerisms of obsessive
compulsives. Queues for the restrooms grew increasingly
long in restaurants and office buildings as everyone
tried to clean up. Shao mentions fate, as do many who
discuss SARS: "It's really out of my control. I've got
to go on working; I cannot live in fear. What else am I
to do?"
Government and corporate
response
The answer to that question is being
addressed by local authorities and corporations alike.
Thursday morning saw an entirely new reaction to SARS.
Gates outside of schools were locked to outsiders.
Cleanup crews in subway stations and bus stops had been
doubled and even trebled in an attempt to wipe down all
surfaces constantly. Those who cough or sneeze in public
are warily eyed by those around them, even if just for a
fleeting moment.
"I simply have no idea what to
do with my students," said Zhang Chunmei, a teacher at a
Shanghai kindergarten, "I don't want the children to get
sick and I don't want to become sick either. It's all
very difficult."
Some hotels began on Thursday
to take the temperature of all employees as they arrived
at work. Those with SARS symptoms were immediately sent
to a hospital for examination. The hotel business has
borne the brunt of Shanghai's economic slowdown. Four-
and five-star hotels in the city normally enjoy between
90 and 100 percent occupancy year-around. In the past
two weeks, occupancy levels at these hotels have dropped
to below 30 percent. Some, such as the Pudong Shangri-la
Hotel, asked all employees to wear masks. After
implementing this policy the hotel's business dropped
further.
Business in general is suffering as
well. Noticeably fewer pedestrians crowded the streets
on Thursday after 5pm. Many foreign businesses and joint
ventures are recalling their staffs; others are closing
for two weeks.
Office buildings and private
companies move along these same lines. Some close for
the day as cleaning crews sweep through the buildings
with buckets of powerful disinfectants. Many others
employ crews during the evening hours to spray down
floors with a bleach solution. Movie-poster-sized
notices have appeared ubiquitously in buildings across
town instructing those waiting for elevators how to
prevent the spread of SARS. Some offices have begun to
stock up on food so their employees won't have to leave
the building during lunchtime.
Shanghai's
grapevine: Dark whispers
The rumor mill in
Shanghai is a great hulking monstrosity bred out of
necessity and circumstance. The intentionally bland
state-controlled media are one cause. The other is that
Shanghai's neighborhoods, especially in the old areas,
have numerous families living in tight quarters, crammed
together without privacy. News - and rumor - travel
quickly.
Add to this the Shanghainese
fascination with such high-tech gizmos as mobile phones,
personal data assistants (PDAs), e-mail and text
messaging and the grapevine grows exponentially. Rumors
have been circulating for weeks that Germany-based
Siemens' joint venture in Shanghai had 40 SARS cases in
its offices alone. Then came the lumbering e-mail that
SARS was a chemical weapon sent from the United States
via Taiwan. Those keen with optimism forwarded the text
message that those with eyeglasses as well as chain
smokers were statistically safer than others.
Whatever the reaction, Shanghai should not be
seen as a city held fast in the palm of panic. People
worry and they are confused, many are scared, but they
have yet to submit to mindless action. The residents of
Shanghai are a proud people, confident in their city's
place in the world. But they know how to read between
the lines. Official statistics said only two confirmed
cases and 16 suspected SARS cases had been found in
Shanghai, but no one here knows what to believe.
Everyone waits for the next news in uncomfortable
expectancy.
(©2003 Asia Times Online Co, Ltd.
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