36 China The Economist February 12th 2022
survey of America’s prospects (with “col
lectivist” Japan challenging its suprema
cy). Yet its stability clearly impressed him.
But assuming that Mr Wang believes
the propaganda he is now promoting, his
intellectual journey is not so different
from that taken by many others of his gen
eration. In the 1980s he typified those who
believed in “neoauthoritarianism”, ie,
that strong leadership was necessary in or
der to manage gradual and orderly change,
over a lengthy period, towards a more lib
eral form of politics (few openly suggested
an eventual end to oneparty rule).
Much changed at the end of that decade
and beyond. First, the prodemocracy un
rest of 1989 all but ended the party’s talk of
political reform. Then came the collapse of
communist regimes elsewhere. Little of
what emerged appealed to China’s liberals.
The country’s economic boom in the 1990s
bolstered the attraction of a strong party
that could keep the country stable. “Con
tinue writing articles about political re
form,” Mr Wang wrote in his diary in 1994
while still an academic (it was published
the following year). “Suggest some feasible
methods for dealing with the present situ
ation...but if you want change quickly, you
won’t accomplish it.”
The diary, titled “A Political Life”, covers
just one year, but offers fascinating details
of Mr Wang’s nonacademic interests at the
time. He liked watching foreign films, of
ten late at night (many entries begin “In the
small hours...”). “Alien”, a sciencefiction
horror movie, was one. Such films were
popular in the West, he noted. “I don’t
know whether that’s something to do with
their mentality or some social reason.”
Like many people in the 1990s, Mr Wang
also appeared intrigued by the claims of
mystics to have supernatural powers. He
described meeting one who showed his
skills, appearing to twist together a fork
and spoon with just a touch, and extract
pills from a bottle without opening it. “It
really was a miracle,” Mr Wang wrote. “One
couldn’t but believe.” In 1999 the govern
ment launched a fierce campaign against
Falun Gong, a mystical group led by a self
styled miracleworker. These days no offi
cial would even hint at belief in magic.
Mr Wang would probably have little
time for such diversions now, anyway. Late
this year the party will hold a fiveyearly
congress, at which it is likely to clarify that
Mr Xi will indeed remain the party’s leader,
despite having served for the onceexpect
ed maximum of ten years. Mr Wang should
be busy already preparing the report that
Mr Xi will deliver.
He has long experience of such work.
When an academic, he was invited in 1987
to submit suggestions for the report deli
vered at that year’s congress, according to
Ming Xia, a former colleague who now
teaches at the City University of New York.
With regard to politics, that document in
1987 was the most proreform of the Com
munist era, calling for the separation of
party and government. But Mr Wang avoid
ed entanglement with the party’s reformist
faction in Beijing, and kept mum during
the upheaval in 1989, says Mr Xia (who was
less guarded). He did, however, facilitate
Mr Xia’s departure for America after the
bloody suppression of the protests.
It is far from clear what will happen to
Mr Wang after the congress. He is young
enough, at 66, to remain in the Politburo
Standing Committee for another five years.
But new ideologues are emerging, says
Cheng Li of the Brookings Institution. One
is Jiang Jinquan, who took over from Mr
Wang in 2020 as head of the party’s policy
research centre, a powerful thinktank. Mr
Jiang may get a seat in the Politburo after
the congress, Mr Li believes.
Perhaps Mr Wang is ready for a move.
“When a person has been at his work for a
long time...his thinking will gradually be
come fixed and he will lack openminded
ness,” he wrote in his diary of 1994. The re
lentless, obsessive calls for devotion to Mr
Xi by Mr Wang’s propagandamachinery
suggest that fixed thinkingisa problem
that pervades the system.n
Y
imsuetmui, an83yearoldHong
Konger, waited almost a year before
getting a vaccination against covid19. “If
I die, I die,” was her attitude. “I am old.”
Such fatalism came easily in the territory
until recently because it had done well at
keeping the virus out. Controlled bor
ders, ubiquitous maskwearing and strict
quarantining meant months have some
times passed without a locally transmit
ted infection. But one sideeffect was the
elderly not wanting (or not bothering) to
be jabbed. Only 30% of over80s and 60%
of over70s have chosen to have a first
dose, compared with 86% of residents
aged 1269. (The same is true in some
provinces of mainland China, where less
than 30% of over80s and less than 50%
of over70s are jabbed.)
Now the bug has breached the territo
ry’s defences. Since two infected Cathay
Pacific crew members broke quarantine
rules over Christmas, an Omicron wave
hasgrown.OnFebruary9thHongKong
logged more than 1,000 new covid19
cases, easily its highest tally since the
pandemic began. The fear is that the old
and unvaccinated will now pay a heavy
price for their reticence.
This week Hong Kong’s government
unveiled its toughest socialdistancing
restrictions to date. Gatherings are lim
ited to two people and there are plans to
allow only the vaccinated into shopping
malls. Carrie Lam, the chief executive,
said the measures were needed to buy
time for the elderly to get their jabs.
Since the Sinovac and Pfizer vaccines
have been freely available for a year, such
talk frustrates parents and businesses
alike—all the more so because officials
have often seemed overcautious on
vaccination, feeding old people’s hesita
tion. Residents of care homes had to
request a jab, unlike for flu shots, which
are given to all unless they opt out.
Omicron’s high transmissibility
means the new outbreak will not be
easily quelled, particularly because fully
locking down the densely populated city,
mainlandstyle, is probably unfeasible.
Even so, Mrs Lam says that Hong Kong
must continue to implement a “dynamic
zero” policy of trying to eliminate trans
mission of the virus.
Pensioners are at last mobilising.
Some 35,000 Hong Kongers are now
receiving vaccinations each day; around
40% of them are over60s getting a first
dose. Among those queuing up outside
vaccination centres, most say they were
finally persuaded by the announcement
in January that the unjabbed would be
barred from yum cha restaurants, where
many elderly Hong Kongers spend their
mornings. Nothing is going to get be
tween them and their breakfast buns.
Covid-19andtheelderly
Injecting urgency
H ONG KONG
As infections rise, Hong Kong’s pensioners remain worryingly unvaccinated
In it for the buns