Beijing diary: Scenes of mass testing, panic buying – and pride?

Panic buying was in full swing at my local supermarket in Beijing’s central Chaoyang District – all the carts were taken and many vegetables were sold out. Store clerks in green vests were snapping photos of frenzied customers, overloaded with bags of cabbage, eggs, and meat. 

“Everyone is scared!” said one shopper. “Prices are going up!” exclaimed another.

It was late Sunday night, and I had rushed to the store after getting a three-word text from a Chinese friend: “Buy more food!” News spread that authorities seeking to contain a cluster of COVID-19 cases had sealed off several compounds and ordered mass testing in the district of 3.5 million people where I now live.

My mind was reeling. Just the day before I’d enjoyed my first taste of relative freedom in China following five weeks of quarantine since arriving in Shanghai in mid-March. Strolling down a street lined with blossoming plum trees, squinting in the sun, I felt a huge relief soaking in the city on my way to the Monitor’s Beijing bureau.

But now, as the fleeting respite gave way to urgent stockpiling, I had a sinking sense of déjà vu. After witnessing heartbreaking scenes of lockdown hardship in Shanghai, China’s glittering financial capital, I had to wonder, could Beijing, the political capital, be next?

“Trust Beijing”

The next morning, I awoke to the familiar sound of a bullhorn, as workers in white hazmat suits summoned all residents in my compound for mandatory COVID-19 testing. 

After my test, I rushed out to pick up my press pass from the Foreign Ministry, several blocks away. Everywhere along the way, Beijingers were forming long, orderly lines for testing. Spotting some carrots at a tiny sidewalk grocer, I snapped them up.

Soon the Foreign Ministry’s giant silver convex structure came into view. Like other Beijing government edifices and monuments – from the ancient Forbidden City to the Great Hall of the People – it reminded me of the city’s historic status as China’s seat of power, and of the premium its leaders place on stability. 

Already, Beijing has restricted inbound travel to insulate the capital from COVID-19 outbreaks in the provinces – and has discouraged its 21 million residents from leaving for the upcoming May Day holiday. Beijing’s special status and extra-stringent COVID-19 policy lead many residents to believe a Shanghai-scale outbreak simply can’t happen here, I discovered.

“Beijing will never let that happen. It’s the capital, so it has to be stable politically,” says Julia Wang, a Beijing university teacher, stopping to chat as she took her out-of-school kindergartner for a walk. “There’s no way the masses here won’t have food to eat, like in Shanghai,” she says, adding that she’s also stockpiled food.

Even as Beijing’s cases reach an all-time pandemic high – a tiny outbreak by global standards but one called “grim” by local health officials – Ms. Wang and other residents believe the city has the personnel and medical capacity to quickly bring them under control.

“The government will be prepared,” says Ms. Wang. “We have so many hospitals and makeshift hospitals, so even if something bad happens, we have the ability to solve the problem.”

Beijing’s culture is also an asset, she says, stressing that Beijingers pride themselves on civic-mindedness. “People in Beijing can sacrifice,” she says. “Trust Beijing.”

Balancing business, people, and pride

So far, however, Beijing’s outbreak continues to spread, with more than a dozen communities housing many thousands of residents who are now confined to their homes.

“My boss is locked down in Shunyi District” in northeastern Beijing, says Ms. Hu, a shop worker, asking to withhold her first name to protect her privacy. “Business is bad due to the pandemic,” she says, adding that she may have to relocate her photography shop.

While a Beijing lockdown would not cause as heavy an economic blow as that of Shanghai, it would further hamper the government’s effort to achieve its target of 5.5% gross domestic product growth this year. 

Yet despite slowing economic growth and a rise in joblessness – with urban unemployment reaching 5.8% in March – China’s government has made clear it has no plans to abandon its zero-COVID-19 policy anytime soon. 

The “life first” policy has succeeded in keeping the level of cases and deaths in China far lower than that in other countries – with fewer than 5,000 fatalities in China compared with nearly 1 million in the United States. 

Despite her loss of business, Ms. Hu fully backs that approach. “I think it’s really good,” she says. “Being healthy is the most important.”

Back at the grocery store, food supplies were fully restored by midweek, as Beijing authorities rushed to increase shipments of fresh produce to quell residents’ worries. 

“All this panic buying makes no sense,” says a clerk restocking the shelves. “Beijing definitely won’t be like Shanghai,” he adds, withholding his name for privacy.

Asked why he feels so certain, he sums up the pride of place that many Beijingers feel – and China’s preoccupation with “saving face” – in a couple of words:

“Beijing’s face!” he says, stroking his cheek with the back of his hand and letting out a laugh.

Basically, a lockdown in Shanghai is one thing; here, it would be an embarrassment.