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France’s Emmanuel Macron labeled early closures
by Austria and Slovenia “bad decisions,” reflecting
an ill will going back to 2015, when many European
countries shut borders to keep migrants out.
With some borders left open, however, the effec-
tiveness of differing approaches was called into ques-
tion. For example, Belgium closed all schools, nurs-
eries, cafés and restaurants on March 12, but in the
Netherlands, they remained open. So Belgians living
in border areas simply popped next door for their
beer and frites. When the Dutch finally announced
that schools, nurseries, bars and restaurants would
close three days later, Health Minister Bruno Bruins
blamed the Belgian “café tourism.”
As the E.U. institutions struggle to find their role,
it may well create a vacuum for populist and national-
ist forces to thrive, as they did after the euro-zone cri-
sis and the refugee crisis. Far-right figures have tried
to exploit the coronavirus, with Matteo Salvini of the
League in Italy implying migrant boats brought the
virus and Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban
speaking of a “clear link” with illegal migration, de-
spite no evidence to back up either claim.
But it is not clear if it will work, in the short term.
Recent polling from Italy suggests a small drop in
support for the League since the start of the corona-
virus crisis. People are looking to governments for
advice they trust, not opportunistic politicians with-
out access to all the facts, says Dennison. “The power
of being an opposition force, which populists are so
good at playing on, loses some of its potency.”
This could change after the peak of the crisis, as
nations start to recover and people reflect on whether
their governments fought for them or failed them.
“Then there will be so much scope for people’s griev-
ances to be played on,” Dennison adds.
To seize the upper hand, the E.U. needs to work
out how its institutions can add value and show they
have a purpose in times of crisis—especially as both
health and internal border controls lie outside their
mandate. One option might be a pan-E.U. economic
package for those struggling to withstand the fi-
nancial impact. “What will be required is a massive
economic stimulus,” says Philippe Lamberts, a co-
president of the Greens in the European Parliament.
Once again it will come back to the union’s cen-
tral conundrum: Should the E.U. integrate and in-
tervene more in its members’ affairs or leave mat-
ters to national governments? The coronavirus may
undermine the argument for a more ambitious pan-
European cohesion, Bickerton says. “For those who
want to build on this, it seems to me to be a very dif-
ficult crisis to overcome.”
None of these fundamental questions are on our
minds right now, as we try to navigate daily childcare
and trips to depleted supermarkets. One day, the cri-
sis will end, but E.U. soul-searching seems destined
to continue for some time. •
DISPATCH
WHAT LIFE IS LIKE
IN CHINA NOW
ONE RECENT AFTERNOON, four medical personnel in
hazmat suits loitered outside my apartment building in
Shanghai. As they stood there, a man holding a speaker
strolled past playing a recorded message that ordered,
“Wear a mask, stay indoors, wash your hands.”
Despite China’s efforts to recast itself as a sanctuary
from COVID-19 while cases soar across the U.S. and
Europe, fallout from the pandemic lingers here, long after
the rate of infections has stabilized. Everyone arriving
from another country or province must undergo 14 days
of quarantine, either at home or a government facility.
Central heating is banned in offices for fear of spreading
germs. Taxi drivers hang sheets of plastic inside their
cabs to cocoon themselves from passengers. One friend
in Beijing returned to work to find the receptionist dressed
in a white hazmat suit.
Life has not gone back to normal, or anything like it.
Grabbing noodles with my wife means sitting diagonally
across a four-person table to comply with social-
distancing rules. A routine appointment with my lawyer
had to be held in Starbucks as her office had banned
visitors. The barista chastised her for standing within four
feet of me while witnessing me signing documents.
It all chafes against China’s official narrative that
the “people’s war” against COVID-19 is almost won.
President Xi Jinping even visited the central city of Wuhan,
the epicenter of the outbreak, on March 10, declaring that
the virus was “basically curbed.”
If that’s the case, officials here aren’t acting like it.
Everyone is beholden to online retail giant Alibaba’s
new Health Code app, which rates users green, yellow
or red, depending on travel history and possible contact
with infected people. Anyone who has moved between
cities in the past two weeks is liable to get a yellow code,
with green mandatory to access most malls and office
buildings. A red code means two weeks in quarantine.
Yet many measures seem like little more than box
ticking. Masks are de rigueur outside the home despite
huge doubts over their efficacy. The temperature tests
required to enter any shop or restaurant or even pass cer-
tain street corners are casually administered. Officious
doormen and security guards hold you up only to point
the temperature gun at your coat sleeve. It’s especially
frustrating as COVID-19 can spread while people are
asymptomatic, rendering these tests mostly pointless.
The hazmat suits outside my apartment show more
professionalism when my neighbor arrives from the
airport. They check her temperature, make her sign
various papers and escort her home. She won’t reappear
for 14 days. Suddenly alarmed, I open my Health Code
app to check that my rating is still green. China may spy
victory over the virus, but normal lies a long way off, if it
ever returns at all