China and Covid19
Shanghai Residents Protest as Pudong Apartments Turn Into Quarantine Site
Shanghai residents at Zhangjiang Nashi International are angered about their community turning into a Covid quarantine site.
Published
2 years agoon
A local protest in a Shanghai neighborhood where residents are angry about their community buildings being taken over and used as a quarantine site has now moved from the streets to the internet.
On Thursday, April 14, videos showing how Shanghai residents were dragged off by officers in medical suits went viral on Chinese social media. The footage allegedly shows a situation taking place at the Zhangjiang Nashi International apartment complex in Shanghai’s New Pudong Area (张江纳仕国际社区), where residents were notified on Thursday that several buildings within their community would be taken over and used as a quarantine isolation site for Covid-19 patients.
Videos showed members of police dressed in hazmat suits clashing with angry residents while a crowd of people stood by screaming and filming the chaotic scenes unfolding around them. Some images also showed residents on their knees, seemingly pleading with the officers.
Other videos also showed residents being dragged away.
According to various Weibo users from the area, the people from the complex, where some 500 people live, already had parts of their building being used as a quarantine site in March of this year. When they were notified that the makeshift quarantine location within their compound would be expanded, they protested the decision.
“I live in the Nashi complex (..) and like many of my neighbors, we have returned from abroad and we’re very patriotic. But anyone who would have this happening to them would be disillusioned.”
The incident was discussed on Weibo using various hashtags but was also heavily censored, with videos and images of the situation suddenly going offline. One video received over 15,000 likes before it was taken offline.
Videos showing chaotic scenes are circulating on Weibo now from one Shanghai community where residents protested their buildings being taken over and used as a quarantine location. Videos are uploaded, censored, and reuploaded again. Read more here: https://t.co/iYdX4Mipc5 pic.twitter.com/yKD9f4F2ug
— Manya Koetse (@manyapan) April 14, 2022
“Shanghai government, can you please be reasonable?!” some pleaded, while others posted images of the incident covered with red scribbles to avoid automated censorship: “If you delete this, I’ll post again! I’ll just post again!”
“Most police officers now are not helping people solve their problems, they are just maintaining social stability,” one Weibo commenter said.
Over the past week, frustrations have been building in Shanghai, where millions of households have been in lockdown since March 28 or earlier. Despite the stringent measures, the city’s total Covid-19 cases soared to another daily record of 27,719 on Thursday.
According to China’s dynamic zero-covid policy, people who test positive for Covid-19 are sent to centralized facilities for a mandatory quarantine. While locked-down residents have struggled to get food, medications, and urgent medical care amid China’s zero-infection policy, many also face difficulties in getting basic medical care or adequate supplies at these centralized quarantine centers, leading to growing anger about how the city is handling the current outbreak.
People spreading photos and videos of the Shanghai Zhangjiang community upheaval express anger, not just about the situation there but about the lockdown management in general (including some stories such as this one, or this one) and the censorship of issues reported by Shanghai residents.
While images, posts, and videos are censored at full speed, one person posts a screenshot of a WeChat conversation about the Zhangjiang incident.
– “Is this really Shanghai?”
– “I saw this. In the afternoon. Weibo won’t allow you to see anything anymore now.”
– “How could Shanghai have changed into this?”
As another person posted a new hashtag about the incident, there was just one thread left on Weibo by Thursday night shortly after 10pm Beijing time. “We just have this one thread,” commenters replied: “Everything is censored, this one won’t stick around for long either.”
“I wonder how long this post will last,” another Weibo blogger wondered, publishing photos of today’s incident. Their post has since been deleted.
Update April 15, 13:45 China Standard Time:
Shortly after this report, BBC also reported about the incident, after which Shanghai Daily reporter Andy Boreham provided some details on Twitter surrounding the protest, claiming that the buildings in questions are talent apartments (人才公寓) – discounted rental sites provided by the city for ‘talented’ people, usually in special areas hoping to attract highly skilled workers.
Boreham also claims that these apartments were provided to tenants on the basis that could be relocated at any time, which is also stated in their contracts. Although the tenants allegedly agreed on April 12 to be moved to another part of the complex, a group of them decided to resist when it came to relocating and tried to stop police from putting up barriers to isolate the building as a quarantine site. See the Twitter thread below.
Here’s some background facts for your followers: This is filmed at a talent apartment (人才公寓)which is basically heavily discounted rental sites provided by the gov’t for “talented” people, usually in special areas hoping to attract highly skilled workers. (2/9)
— Andy Boreham 安柏然 (@AndyBxxx) April 15, 2022
The topic “Zhangjiang Nashi International Community” (张江纳仕国际社区) still comes up with zero results in Weibo’s search function after yesterday’s online turmoil. There is, however, one hashtag about the issue today, namely that initiated by China Real Estate News (@中国房地产报) about the Shanghai Zhangjiang Group responding to the use of talent apartments for quarantine housing (#上海张江集团回应人才公寓被征用为隔离房:疫情防控需要#). Chinese media outlet The Paper also published the brief statement.
The statement explains that the Zhangjiang Nashi Talent Apartment buildings are state-owned property rental housing built by the Zhangjiang real estate group, and that the talent apartments started to be used in August 2021. Since Shanghai’s Covid crisis, the city used five (unoccupied) buildings as a makeshift isolation site.
On April 12, the local government reportedly notified the Zhangjiang Group that it would also expropriate an additional nine buildings and use them as a central quarantine site. According to the Zhangjiang Group, they immediately notified the 39 tenants who needed to be relocated and gave compensation for lease changes.
But during the afternoon of April 14, when the planned quarantine site plans were set into motion, some tenants obstructed the construction site, and “relevant departments dealt with the situation on the spot.” The statement further said that the situation has since calmed down.
“I’d also recommend the houses of the people who make these decisions to be taken over and used as a quarantine site,” one commenter said: “So they can experience what it feels like to be driven out of your own home.”
Meanwhile, one anonymous contributor claiming to be one of the residents living in the Zhangjiang Nashi International community published a lengthy thread on the Chinese Q&A platform Zhihu.com, where they suggested that the statement by the Zhangjiang Group was misleading. The post was published in the early morning of April 15 just before 3am, but no longer shows up in Zhihu search function at time of writing.
“Firstly, Zhangjiang Nashi International is NOT a talent apartment! It’s NOT a talent apartment! It’s NOT!,” the author writes. The uploader claims that the community they live in is a regular residential area that only rents out apartments at a high price, and does not sell them.
The uploader suggested that, since the rent of the apartments is quite high (lowest rent prices for a one bedroom apartment start at 7950 yuan/month, which is $1250, highest are priced at 11350 yuan/month, which is $1781), the tenants would not accept an alleged ‘subletting’ agreement.
The uploader said that they were notified by the Zhangjiang Group that four of the buildings in their complex would be used as quarantine sites on March 15 of this year.
Because the four buildings were vacant and far removed from the buildings with the most residents, the decisions were not objected by tenants.
Not long after, the entire community went into lockdown mode starting on March 18. Until the incident of April 14, the residents had been inside their homes for 27 days while cooperating with mass testing campaigns and managing to test negative for Covid-19 throughout.
On April 11, the residents were informed that an additional building, building 6, would also be used as a quarantine location.
This decision made residents living in building number 7 and 11 more nervous, since they were in close proximity of building number 6 – less than 20 meters away. The close proximity of the quarantine building and the quick spread of Omicron made residents fear that they could easily also be infected.
The Zhihu author then explains that on April 12, the community was informed that an additional eight buildings would also be used as quarantine locations, namely 7, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 18, 19. Of these buildings, 7, 11, and 14 were all occupied and for the residents at 14 all of their furniture and electrical appliances is self-bought and was not provided to them. The residents were expected to move out.
The residents complained that it was not easy to move their entire household in times of epidemic, and the building number 14 residents also worried about their furniture and appliances being used by Covid19 patients. They were therefore also offered compensation for relocating.
But, as explained in the lengthy Zhihu post, not all of the residents received their compensation and it was unclear when and if they would. Residents also demanded to see official proof that the government was really demanding that their apartment buildings were to be made into quarantine sites. A meeting between Zhangjiang Group and the residents took place and was also recorded, but did not lead to a solution.
A second negotiation between residents and the real estate group on April 13 also did not settle the matter, and the residents of building 7, 11, and 14 were required to move out immediately unless they wanted to live together with Covid-19 patients.
But a new problem also emerged, as the residents would allegedly be relocated to building number 15, which is surrounded on all sides by the buildings used as quarantine locations – at distance less than 20 meters away. The anxiety over becoming infected, the stress over the community being taken over, and the doubts over whether or not the decision was actually legal or not eventually led to the altercations of April 14.
The protests themselves did not turn out to be fruitful for the residents. It was a moment to document what was happening to them and to express their sadness and anger. Now, the author says, the residents are sharing their community with the Covid-19 patients and the residents are still not sure whether or not the entire ordeal is legal or not.
The social media user also warns others not to spread rumors and not to mix up other videos with what happened on April 14.
For more articles on the Covid-19 topics on Chinese social media, check here.
By Manya Koetse
With contributions by Miranda Barnes
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Manya is the founder and editor-in-chief of What's on Weibo, offering independent analysis of social trends, online media, and digital culture in China for over a decade. Subscribe to gain access to content, including the Weibo Watch newsletter, which provides deeper insights into the China trends that matter. More about Manya at manyakoetse.com or follow on X.
China and Covid19
Weibo Watch: Small Earthquakes in Wuhan
How Wuhan is shaking off its past with a new wave of innovation, the hot topics to know, and the Weibo catchphrase of the week: ‘the Three Questions of Patriotism.’
Published
1 week agoon
September 27, 2024PREMIUM NEWSLETTER | ISSUE #37
Dear Reader,
“Wuhan Earthquake” (#武汉地震#) momentarily became the number one trending topic on Weibo this Friday night, after residents of Jiangxia District reported feeling their homes and buildings shake. “Was there an earthquake, or am I drunk?” some wondered.
I also felt a bit tipsy in Wuhan this month. Neon signs, dancing livestreamers, flying drones, bustling night markets, and holographic lights. On my first night in Wuhan, the lights made me dizzy and I discovered that the city was nothing like I had imagined.
Until now, I couldn’t help but associate Wuhan with the wet market, crowded fever clinics, and China’s first Covid hospitals. As the world watched the pandemic unfold in 2020, Wuhan became instantly famous as an early epicenter of the Covid-19 crisis. It became known as the quarantined city, the city of Dr. Li Wenliang, and the city of the “invincible Wuhan man.” At the time, it seemed like such a monumental event that Wuhan would not recover anytime soon, even after enduring the worst peak of Covid.
Now, over four years later, everything feels different. I felt a rush of energy as I strolled through the lively streets. It was evident that Wuhan is much more than the city that gained global notoriety as the pandemic hotspot. Beyond its vibrant atmosphere, it is making international headlines for its leadership in autonomous driving, having emerged as the world’s largest testing ground for self-driving cars, particularly in unmanned ride-hailing services.
Baidu’s Apollo Go, referred to as Luobo Kuaipao (萝卜快跑) in Chinese, is the driving force behind the robotaxi revolution in Wuhan. Since their arrival earlier this year, they have become a hot topic on Chinese social media, and I was eager to experience it for myself.
(Brief explainer: Luóbo (萝卜) means radish or turnip in Chinese, but when pronounced, it sounds similar to “robo.” Kuàipǎo (快跑) translates to “run fast.” Combined, it creates a playful name that can be interpreted as “Radish Runs Fast” or “Robo Go.” I’ll use ‘Luobo’ here, as it is the most common way to refer to Apollo Go in China and has a cute sound.)
In the areas where the robotaxis operate, people already seem to have become accustomed to the driverless ‘Luobo.’ During a 1.5-hour ride in the unmanned taxi—I took a long journey and then needed to return again—I was surprised to see so many of them on the road. Other drivers, motorcyclists, and passengers didn’t even bat an eye anymore when encountering the new AI taxi.
Currently, there is an active fleet of over 500 cars in Wuhan, and Baidu plans to add another 1,000 in the fourth quarter of this year. Although these taxis still comprise only a fraction of the city’s entire taxi industry, their impact is noticeable on the roads, where you will inevitably encounter them. I stood at one drop-off point near an urban shopping center for at least forty minutes and witnessed passengers being dropped off continually, with some proceeding their journeys into areas where Luobo doesn’t operate by calling the ride-hailing service Didi from there.
As for the experience itself, it was thrilling to see the steering wheel move with no driver in the front seat. I was surprised at how quickly I adapted to something so unfamiliar. It’s incredibly comfortable to have a car to yourself—no driver, no worries—while you choose your own music (and sing along), set the air conditioning, and relax as the Luobo navigates the traffic.
Even inside the vehicle, Baidu emphasizes the safety of their self-driving cars, providing information about how Apollo Go has accumulated over 32 million kilometers of autonomous driving testing without any major accidents, thanks to a strict safety management system.
If you close your eyes, the experience feels like riding with a regular driver. Luobo speeds up, slows down, and occasionally makes unexpected maneuvers when a car or bike suddenly approaches. It ensures there’s enough space between itself and the car in front. While I can’t say that merging onto the highway or encountering unexpected traffic situations didn’t feel a bit scary, I soon felt at ease and came to rely on the technology.
That said, there are still bumps in the road. Luobo has often been ridiculed on Chinese social media for getting stuck at a green light, stopping for a garbage bag, or struggling to make a U-turn. While riding and observing the robotaxis in Wuhan, I noticed plenty of honking and road rage as Luobo chooses safety first, often appearing sluggish, earning them the nickname ‘Sháo Luóbo’ (勺萝卜/苕萝卜, “silly radish”).
While Luobo might still have its silly moments, it is a serious part of the future. Already, it is popular among commuters for its low cost, privacy, and convenience.
After spending an entire morning riding and watching the Luobos, I excitedly felt like I had experienced a glimpse of the future. Right now, Luobo Kuaipao operates in various cities across China, including Beijing, but it’s still in the testing phase there—none of my friends from Beijing have ever seen or taken one yet. However, this will likely change soon, heavily relying on policy support.
That night, I spoke to a young local in a busy commercial area near my hotel. Like many residents, he was curious about where I came from and what I was doing in Wuhan. (During the four days I spent there, I noticed very few foreign tourists.) We briefly discussed the pandemic; he reflected on the difficulties it brought but treated it as something from the past—just another bump in the road in the city’s long history.
Instead of dwelling on the pandemic, our conversation focused on the future: Wuhan’s robotaxis, his confidence in China’s technology, and the rising importance of his country on the geopolitical stage. He was just one of several young people I spoke to, from shopkeepers to students, who seemed very focused on China’s growth and development and how its technological advancements reflect its position in a world where the U.S. is no longer leading.
When it comes to China’s driverless innovations, they are shaking the foundations of transportation like an earthquake. Besides Apollo Go, companies like Pony.ai (小马智行), WeRide (文远知行), SAIC Motor (上汽集团), AutoX (安途), FAW (一汽), Changan Automobile (长安汽车), BYD (比亚迪), Yutong (宇通), and many other industry players are also working to realize driverless passenger cars, shuttle services, freight trucks, delivery vehicles, public transport buses, and much more.
What we’re witnessing in Wuhan is merely a glimpse into a future under construction, actively promoted by Chinese state media. Over the past week alone, CCTV featured Luobo Kuaipao in three segments as a key example of China’s new technological advancements and the national strategy to build a strong tech-driven economy.
As I left Wuhan in a traditional taxi, I suddenly felt like a time traveler. Wuhan was the birthplace of the 1911 revolution and will also appear in foreign history books as the initial epicenter of the Covid-19 pandemic. Now, it is at the center of an international robotaxi revolution, and it won’t be the same the next time I return.
While my friendly elderly driver—I estimated him to be in his late 50s—honked at other cars, I realized he had witnessed many other revolutions, including the Cultural Revolution as a young boy, the economic reforms, and the major social changes of the 1980s, as well as the digital revolution of the 2000s. With the growth of Wuhan’s robotaxi fleet, his job might be affected, adding another tremor to his city and his life—though he may already be retired by then.
As he helped me with my luggage and wished me a safe trip home at the Wuhan Hankou Station, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic about how everything always changes and gets shaken up as we move forward into a future driven by technology.
As for Friday’s earthquake in Wuhan—it turns out it was a 1.6. Despite the online interest in the topic, it means virtually nothing in a city where things of much greater magnitude are happening.
If you’d like to know more about my experiences and the slight setback I encountered while searching for Wuhan’s robotaxis, check out the short videos I made here:
Part 1 (also on Instagram)
Part 2 (also on Instagram).
Best,
Manya Koetse
(@manyapan)
What To Know
🚀 China’s First Intercontinental Ballistic Missile Test-Launch Since 1980
On the morning of September 25, China announced a successful test launch of an intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) carrying a ‘dummy warhead’ into the Pacific Ocean. This marked the first ICBM launch in decades, described by official media as part of routine annual training.
The People’s Daily Weibo account of the Communist Party shared a video of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) announcing the successful test launch, accompanied by suspenseful and patriotic music, specifically the “March of the Steel Torrent” (钢铁洪流进行曲) (see video). This launch quickly became a trending topic (#我军向太平洋发射洲际弹道导弹#). While Chinese state media claimed that Beijing informed relevant countries in advance, Japan stated that it did not receive any prior notice, further heightening tensions between China and Japan.
🇯🇵 Aftermath of Japanese Schoolboy Stabbing
The incident in which a Chinese man fatally stabbed a ten-year-old Japanese schoolboy near the Shenzhen Japanese School on September 18 has become a widely discussed topic this month. The attacker, a 44-year-old Chinese national, was immediately arrested. However, discussions about the stabbing are ongoing, as it has sparked a wave of anger in Japan, where critics argue that anti-Japanese sentiments in China are fueled by official media and national education.
Meanwhile, China and Japan have effectively resolved their diplomatic dispute regarding the Fukushima water discharge, with some suggesting a connection between the two events. China’s Foreign Ministry spokesperson Mao Ning (毛宁) stated on September 20 that the issues are not related (#中日共识与日本男童遇袭无关#). Beyond the geopolitical implications, the international media coverage of the stabbing incident has also provoked anger on Chinese social media, where many netizens reject the supposed negative portrayal of China. The topic is quite sensitive and continues to face significant censorship online.
📱 Huawei Trifold Phone
The launch of Huawei’s ‘trifold’ phone earlier this month generated significant excitement in China, with many believing that Huawei—and, by extension, China—is now at the forefront of innovation in the folding screen smartphone race. The Mate XT is the first triple-folding screen phone, leading some top commenters to proclaim, “Huawei’s innovation capability is truly the best in the world. While other manufacturers are still researching foldable phones, Huawei has already released the trifold.”
During my travels in China over the past few weeks, I visited several Huawei stores, but unfortunately, the trifold was never on display; it’s available only by reservation and has allegedly garnered millions of pre-orders, despite its hefty price tag of CNY 19,999 (USD 2,850). There’s also been some lighthearted banter surrounding the phone, including a viral post that humorously depicts what it looks like when you make a phone call with the screen unfolded (it looks ridiculous), and a user who taped two phones together to create a sixfold.
👴 Retirement Age Discussions
News came out last week that China will raise its retirement age for the first time since the 1950s. China’s current retirement ages are among the world’s lowest. Facing an aging society and declining birth rates, the ages will now be increased in a step-by-step implementation process: 50 to 55 for women in blue-collar jobs, 55 to 58 for females in white-collar jobs, and 60 to 63 for male workers.
This change, set to take effect on January 1, 2025, has already sparked considerable discussion this year after experts proposed the adjustment. A related hashtag has garnered over 870 million views on Weibo (#延迟法定退休年龄改革#), where many users expressed their dissatisfaction with the change. “Great, I’ll get to retire in September of 2051 now,” one young worker wrote. “We start studying earlier and retire later; how can we keep up with this?”
📷 Hidden Hotel Cameras
After a Chinese blogger known as “Shadows Don’t Lie” (@影子不会说谎) recently discovered and exposed hidden cameras in the rooms of two guesthouses in Shijiazhuang, he faced significant intimidation and threats from the owners and employees, who accused him of staging the situation for attention.
However, the situation turned out to be real, and local police arrested multiple suspects responsible for installing these cameras inside these hotel rooms, which are often rented by young couples for romantic short stays. The suspects reportedly did not know the guesthouse owners and had secretly set up the cameras to profit illegally. This incident, which continues to generate discussion online, has heightened public concern over privacy protection and the integrity of the guesthouse industry, particularly as this is not the first time such issues have been revealed.
Weibo Word of the Week
The Three Questions of Patriotism
Our Weibo word of the week is 爱国三问 (àiguó sān wèn), which translates to “The Three Questions of Patriotism.” This phrase has recently gained attention on Chinese social media as it was highlighted and propagated by official media channels.
The three questions are:
1. Are you Chinese? (你是中国人吗)
2. Do you love China? (你爱中国吗)
3. Do you wish China well? (你愿意中国好吗)
These questions were originally posed in 1935 by Zhang Boling (张伯苓), the first president of the renowned Nankai University (南开大学) in Tianjin.
Today, they are being revived on Chinese social media through various videos released by official channels.
One notable video is part of a new online series produced by state media titled “Great Educators” (大教育家), which features reenactments of speeches by prominent Chinese educators. In this series, Zhang Boling’s speech, portrayed by actor Wang Ban (王斑), emphasizes the importance of unity in tumultuous times.
Rather than dwelling on differences, Zhang urged people to recognize their shared identity: they are all Chinese, they love China, and they all aspire for the country’s prosperity.
Another video features Nankai University’s current president, Chen Yulu (陈雨露), addressing students during a large event on September 21st. In his speech, Chen reiterates the three famous questions, prompting the hundreds of students in attendance to respond enthusiastically: “We are [Chinese]!” “We love [China]!” “We wish [China well]! We want China to be strong and prosperous!” This response is followed by enthusiastic applause.
Additionally, another video from the same day features a meeting between Chen Yulu and an AI version of Zhang Boling, digitally resurrected to address the students and celebrate the start of the new school year. During this ‘virtual dialogue,’ Chen informs Zhang that his ‘Three Questions of Patriotism’ have become a cherished tradition at Nankai’s annual opening ceremony.
According to Chinese state media, the students’ responses to these three questions illustrate how contemporary Chinese youth are aligning their personal aspirations with national progress. This alignment is seen as a revival of the patriotic spirit that Zhang Boling instilled in students during wartime. However, the current ‘revival’ of this sentiment appears to be largely reflected across various official channels, with limited engagement from ordinary netizens.
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China and Covid19
Sick Kids, Worried Parents, Overcrowded Hospitals: China’s Peak Flu Season on the Way
“Besides Mycoplasma infections, cases include influenza, Covid-19, Norovirus, and Adenovirus. Heading straight to the hospital could mean entering a cesspool of viruses.”
Published
11 months agoon
November 22, 2023In the early morning of November 21, parents are already queuing up at Xi’an Children’s Hospital with their sons and daughters. It’s not even the line for a doctor’s appointment, but rather for the removal of IV needles.
The scene was captured in a recent video, only one among many videos and images that have been making their rounds on Chinese social media these days (#凌晨的儿童医院拔针也要排队#).
One photo shows a bulletin board at a local hospital warning parents that over 700 patients are waiting in line, estimating a waiting time of more than 13 hours to see a doctor.
Another image shows children doing their homework while hooked up on an IV.
Recent discussions on Chinese social media platforms have highlighted a notable surge in flu cases. The ongoing flu season is particularly impacting children, with multiple viruses concurrently circulating and contributing to a high incidence of respiratory infections.
Among the prevalent respiratory infections affecting children are Mycoplasma pneumoniae infections, influenza, and Adenovirus infection.
The spike in flu cases has resulted in overcrowded children’s hospitals in Beijing and other Chinese cities. Parents sometimes have to wait in line for hours to get an appointment or pick up medication.
According to one reporter at Haibao News (海报新闻), there were so many patients at the Children’s Hospital of Capital Institute of Pediatrics (首都儿科研究所) on November 21st that the outpatient desk stopped accepting new patients by the afternoon. Meanwhile, 628 people were waiting in line to see a doctor at the emergency department.
Reflecting on the past few years, the current flu season marks China’s first ‘normal’ flu peak season since the outbreak of Covid-19 in late 2019 / early 2020 and the end of its stringent zero-Covid policies in December 2022. Compared to many other countries, wearing masks was also commonplace for much longer following the relaxation of Covid policies.
Hu Xijin, the well-known political commentator, noted on Weibo that this year’s flu season seems to be far worse than that of the years before. He also shared that his own granddaughter was suffering from a 40 degrees fever.
“We’re all running a fever in our home. But I didn’t dare to go to the hospital today, although I want my child to go to the hospital tomorrow. I heard waiting times are up to five hours now,” one Weibo user wrote.
“Half of the kids in my child’s class are sick now. The hospital is overflowing with people,” another person commented.
One mother described how her 7-year-old child had been running a fever for eight days already. Seeking medical attention on the first day, the initial diagnosis was a cold. As the fever persisted, daily visits to the hospital ensued, involving multiple hours for IV fluid administration.
While this account stems from a single Weibo post within a fever-advice community, it highlights a broader trend: many parents swiftly resort to hospital visits at the first signs of flu or fever. Several factors contribute to this, including a lack of General Practitioners in China, making hospitals the primary choice for medical consultations also in non-urgent cases.
There is also a strong belief in the efficacy of IV infusion therapy, whether fluid-based or containing medication, as the quickest path to recovery. Multiple factors contribute to the widespread and sometimes irrational use of IV infusions in China. Some clinics are profit-driven and see IV infusions as a way to make more money. Widespread expectations among Chinese patients that IV infusions will make them feel better also play a role, along with some physicians’ lacking knowledge of IV therapy or their uncertainty to distinguish bacterial from viral infections (read more here)
To prevent an overwhelming influx of patients to hospitals, Chinese state media, citing specialists, advise parents to seek medical attention at the hospital only for sick infants under three months old displaying clear signs of fever (with or without cough). For older children, it is recommended to consult a doctor if a high fever persists for 3 to 5 days or if there is a deterioration in respiratory symptoms. Children dealing with fever and (mild) respiratory symptoms can otherwise recover at home.
One Weibo blogger (@奶霸知道) warned parents that taking their child straight to the hospital on the first day of them getting sick could actually be a bad idea. They write:
“(..) pediatric departments are already packed with patients, and it’s not just Mycoplasma infections anymore. Cases include influenza, Covid-19, Norovirus, and Adenovirus. And then, of course, those with bad luck are cross-infected with multiple viruses at the same time, leading to endless cycles. Therefore, if your child experiences mild coughing or a slight fever, consider observing at home first. Heading straight to the hospital could mean entering a cesspool of viruses.”
The hashtag for “fever” saw over 350 million clicks on Weibo within one day on November 22.
Meanwhile, there are also other ongoing discussions on Weibo surrounding the current flu season. One topic revolves around whether children should continue doing their homework while receiving IV fluids in the hospital. Some hospitals have designated special desks and study areas for children.
Although some commenters commend the hospitals for being so considerate, others also remind the parents not to pressure their kids too much and to let them rest when they are not feeling well.
Opinions vary: although some on Chinese social media say it's very thoughtful for hospitals to set up areas where kids can study and read, others blame parents for pressuring their kids to do homework at the hospital instead of resting when not feeling well. pic.twitter.com/gnQD9tFW2c
— Manya Koetse (@manyapan) November 22, 2023
By Manya Koetse, with contributions from Miranda Barnes
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©2023 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.
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A Triumph for “Comrade Trump”: Chinese Social Media Reactions to Trump Rally Shooting
About Wang Chuqin’s Broken Paddle at Paris 2024
“Land Rover Woman” Sparks Outrage: Qingdao Road Rage Incident Goes Viral in China
The “City bu City” (City不City) Meme Takes Chinese Internet by Storm
China at Paris 2024 Olympics Trend File: Medals and Moments on Chinese Social Media
Weibo Watch: The Land Rover Woman Controversy Explained
Stolen Bodies, Censored Headlines: Shanxi Aorui’s Human Bone Scandal
Fired After Pregnancy Announcement: Court Case Involving Pregnant Employee Sparks Online Debate
“Scared to Intervene”: Local Celebrity ‘Bag-Clutching Brother’ Stabbed to Death during Square Dancing
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