李世默: 大疫過後, 中國人到底怎麼看自己的領導人? | 文化縱橫_風聞

CSSCI核心期刊**《文化縱橫》2020徵訂火熱進行中**

✪ 李世默 | 復旦大學中國研究院

**《文化縱橫》微信：**whzh_21bcr

**【導讀】**突如其來的新冠疫情，讓世界各國都措手不及。相較而言，中國無疑是在措手不及面前最早迴轉過來、走上正軌的國家。復旦大學中國研究院李世默研究員近期在美國《外交政策》網站發表英文評論，認為在這場抗擊疫情的“人民戰爭”中，中國的體制優勢、動員效率、國家力量得到了充分發揮。在疫情爆發初期，中國個別地方政府應對失誤、舉措失當，但在隨後的抗疫之戰中，從中央到地方，從政府組織到社會團體，從領導幹部到人民大眾，都能夠同心協力、有序組織，最終使中國疫情得到基本控制。這一世所共見的成果，無疑是對各種非議中國的聲音的有力回擊。而另一方面，即使數月來14億中國人連續不斷地“吹哨”——甚至可以説是“拉響警報”——大聲疾呼世界警惕新冠肺炎的危險性，可許多國家政府治理體系仍在疫情面前接近崩潰，才開始認真思考應對疫情的決策複雜性。李世默特別指出，在西方學者的理論裏，中國一直被視為“威權政治體制”，本文不是辯論理論對錯與否的場合，但有一件事在他心目中已經無可置疑：中國不是威權政治體制，中國需要為這個國家的前途擔負責任的決策者。

本文英文版首發於《外交政策》網站(詳見後附英文原文)，中文版首發於觀察者網，僅代表作者本人觀點**，供諸君思考。**

如今的上海，人們的工作和生活正逐步恢復正常。餐廳和酒吧已經恢復營業，我和我的同事們也回到了公司辦公。唯一和以往不同的是，我們走進公共場所都需要測量體温。

我投資了哈囉單車（中國最大的共享單車公司），在他們的業務數據中瞭解到，單車使用量已經恢復到了疫情之前的七成。在中國各地，疫情的陰霾正在逐漸消散。而就在一個多月前，全國民眾還生活在疫情永不消散的噩夢中。疫情就此結束，是此時每一箇中國人最強烈的願望。

在這個重要轉折時刻，我想分享一下我所感受到的，關於中國政府與社會的五點體會。

▍中國人民信賴他們的政治制度

全球最大的獨立公關公司愛德曼（Edelman）發佈的《全球信任度調查報告》指出，中國民眾對政府的信任指數高達82，在所有被調查的國家中位居榜首。而根據皮尤（Pew）研究中心的調查，超過80%的中國人對國家的前進方向表示滿意。

然而，無論在國際主流媒體還是日常討論中，卻鮮有人提及這些事實。為什麼會這樣呢？我認為是由於西方人對中國現實情況的理解一直受到自由主義敍事的左右，這一敍事將中國描述為“威權主義政黨國家”，在本質上不可能贏得公眾真正的信任。人們在先入為主的心態左右下，完全不關注各種民調數據所顯示的結果：中國人民信賴他們的政治制度。

對於關注中國的人們來説，文化與制度差異客觀存在，缺乏超越意識形態的對比環境也造成了一定程度上的誤解。

然而現在，在大自然力量的磅礴衝擊之下，人們終於有機會一窺真相。

1月23日，中國政府決定對武漢實施“封城”，這一措施隨後擴展到整個湖北省，覆蓋人口達5600萬，是人類歷史上最大規模的檢疫隔離行動。兩天後，除西藏以外的所有省級行政區都啓動了重大突發公共衞生事件一級響應，超過7.6億城市居民被要求居家隔離，非必要情況外不得外出，在公共場合必須佩戴口罩。大部分村莊也被封閉起來。當時全國報告的感染病例共571例，死亡17例——以現在的眼光看，那時感染和死亡人數還處於相當低的水平。

這些防疫措施的力度和廣度驚動了舉國上下。在2000萬人口的上海，往常車水馬龍的街道一夜之間變得空空蕩蕩，行人與汽車都不見了蹤影。起初我認為這種局面只會持續一兩週，然而時間一天天過去，防疫措施卻沒有鬆動的跡象。人們繼續呆在家裏，街上仍然空空蕩蕩。

數億人及時響應，自覺地全面貫徹政府的防疫措施，這是人類歷史上的第一次，我個人也始料不及。來過中國的人都會發現，在街頭執法的中國警察沒有配槍，處理非惡性違法行為時很少採取強制暴力措施。因此中國人往往“不拘小節”，甚至會為一張交通罰單和警察爭論不休，這在一些其他國家是不敢想象的情景。然而正是在這樣的社會背景下，此次疫情期間，人們面對持續如此之久的大規模封城和隔離措施，能做到貫徹始終，除了高度信任政府的忠告並自覺服從指揮，沒有其他理由可以解釋。

當然這也是出於自我保護，畢竟沒人願意得病。但如果我們拿其他國家來對比，會發現有些地方，大批年輕人在疫情初期公然違抗政府禁令和警告，聚集在海灘和夜店；還有一些地方，甚至至今仍要出動警察來採取強制措施。顯然，光靠人的自利性是遠遠不夠的，只有人民高度信任他們的政府提供保障的能力和專業性，才能達到這種服從程度。

在與民眾的溝通上，政府也不遺餘力，每天都會通過各大媒體公佈官方疫情數據，這包括全國數據和各省市數據。每時每刻，電視上都會有專家詳細介紹病毒的特性，以及國家不斷調整的應對措施。每一份報紙都在宣傳保持社交距離的重要性。也就是説，民眾對國家的信任建立在信息暢通的基礎上，而不是盲目服從。

 (訂閲《文化縱橫》2020年雜誌，享半年免費暢讀所有已出版雜誌電子版VIP，僅剩最後200席)

▍中國的民間社會生機勃勃

如果2月初的時候你宅在家忙於刷社交媒體，很可能得出與事實截然相反的結論。中國社會正在經歷“文革”以來最大的創傷，公眾的憤怒情緒高漲。人們看到，當年“非典”爆發後所建立的疫情信息通報制度在這次新冠疫情初期近乎失效，很多人因此推測是地方官員向上級“報喜不報憂”，以至於延誤了最佳防治時機，認為這暴露了中國政治體制的問題。這種強烈情緒在武漢醫生李文亮被病毒奪去生命之後到達了沸點。這名曾於去年12月在工作夥伴的微信羣中對冠狀病毒發出危險預警的醫生，在被當地警察“訓誡”後，在工作中因不幸感染新冠病毒而殉職。如果這是你看到的全部情況，那就很可能得出結論，認為中國遭遇了“切爾諾貝利時刻”甚至即將迎來它的“阿拉·伯之·春”（有些人確實已經提出了這樣的説法）。然而，在事實面前，這些假設被證明是建立在不完整信息基礎上做出的誤判。

當中央政府為這場人類歷史上規模最大的抗疫行動發起總動員時，全國民眾的力量凝聚到了一起。50萬名志願者奔赴湖北抗疫前線，冒着健康和生命危險開展醫護、檢疫和後勤工作。全國有200多萬名公民註冊並擔任志願者。他們鼓舞人心的故事和影像在社交媒體上不斷刷屏。儘管許多咖啡館和餐廳的生意蒙受了慘重損失，卻仍然向志願者提供免費食品和飲料。一張武漢社區工作人員的照片在網絡上廣為流傳，他從頭到腳掛滿了幾十個藥包，要派送到各家各户。全國幾乎所有居民小區都設置了24小時無休的檢查崗，由志願者和保安負責控制人員出入並測量體温。許多社區還組織志願者登門看望老年人等薄弱人羣，為他們解決生活問題。想象一下，在這個14億人的國家裏，每條街道、每個社區、每個村莊都在同時上演同樣的一幕！

正是由於政府與民間力量相互信任、合力抗疫，並及時採取大量細緻有效的措施，糾正了****疫情爆發最初的混亂，確保能觸達到每一個需要幫助的人，才讓人民迅速恢復了信心。

與此同時，政府和各社會機構在互聯網上發佈了大量信息，通報疫情和冠狀病毒的特性。公眾大規模地通過社交媒體參與討論，促進了信息的傳播。現在，西方頂尖專家和權威人士在CNN、BBC等國際電視節目裏談論病毒在硬表面上或以氣溶膠形式存活時間等各類防疫問題，但早在2月，這些就已是億萬中國網民的熱搜話題。

政府自上而下地呼籲以“人民戰爭”戰勝流行病。在民眾的響應下，中國的確打了一場自下而上的人民戰爭。**過去，我或多或少地默認了許多政治思想家的一個普遍假設，即中國民間社會力量薄弱，因為在所謂的“威權主義政黨國家”無法蓬勃發展。**但現在我終於認識到，這一假設建立在自由主義對民間社會的定義基礎上，將民間社會與國家割裂看待甚至放在對立面上。然而，如果我們按照民間社會的古典概念，即亞里士多德定義的“政治共同體”（κοινωνίαπολιτική）來看待疫情期間的中國民間社會，它並不具有與國家割裂的必然特徵，全民參與抗疫所取得的成效表明，中國的民間社會充滿活力。

▍在中國，市場之上有國家

在中國乃至許多國家，市場與國家的關係是一個讓人爭論不休的話題，似乎必須在“國進民退”和“國退民進”之間做出非此即彼的選擇。如果非要這樣考慮問題，那麼可以説在此次疫情當中，國家大獲全勝。除了最頑固的新自由主義者以外，每個人都清楚地認識到，中國在強化市場角色的同時維持和擴充了國家能力，才免於遭受難以想象的災難，否則數十萬乃至數百萬條生命可能就此消逝。

1月下旬防疫戰爭剛剛打響之際，國家便迅速地行動了起來，中央政府協調全國醫療資源快速向湖北集中。截至2月15日，包含2.5萬餘名醫務人員的217支醫療隊，先後從全國各地奔赴湖北，帶去了最好的設備和物資。在中央政府的協調下，近2萬台呼吸機被運往湖北，使得疫情中心總體上沒有出現呼吸機短缺的情況。

武漢在十天之內建成了擁有1000張病牀的方艙醫院。緊接着，湖北省各地修建了16所方艙醫院，病牀數量達1萬3000張。這些都是借用會議中心等現有建築搭建的臨時醫院，用於輕症患者的隔離收治。大型國企中石化是工業口罩的上游原材料生產商，公司花了35天時間重新設計和調整生產線，擴大醫用口罩產能。汽車製造商也改造裝配線用於大批量生產口罩和其他醫療用品。口罩的日產量從1月份的2000萬增加到2月下旬的1.16億。

這些事都是誰做的呢？從全國各地派往湖北的醫護人員大多是國有醫院的公職人員，醫院建築商和大部分口罩的生產商都是國有企業。

對於中國這樣的大國而言，整個行動的協調程度好得令人難以置信。每週甚至每天，中央政府都從北京向各省發佈新的措施。各省政府接到指令後，有一定的調整餘地使其適應當地情況。然後，各省也以同樣的方式對所屬市縣各級政府下達指令。反過來，自下而上的渠道也保持暢通。地方政府將調查結果和建議呈遞給北京。例如，建造方艙醫院的想法是一個專家團隊提出的，他們在實地研究武漢情況後發現，大型醫院無法解決大量輕症患者交叉傳染的問題。他們把研究結果和修建方艙醫院的提案送到北京，24小時內便得到了批示並開始落實。

國家還迅速採取行動減輕危機對經濟的衝擊，例如向企業提供直接補貼，特別是幫助中小企業不要解僱職工，而是繼續發放最低工資並繳納醫保。在各地政府倡導下，國有企業物業紛紛減免了承租商鋪、廠房、寫字樓的租金。

  (訂閲《文化縱橫》2020年雜誌，享半年免費暢讀所有已出版雜誌電子版VIP，僅剩最後200席)

▍黨旗高高飄揚

在這場危機中，三個過去相對默默無聞的人脱穎而出、譽滿全國。在疫情初期發出警告的李文亮醫生，他最終在工作崗位上不幸染病去世。國家公共衞生權威鍾南山醫生，他與美國的安東尼•福奇醫生類似，是抗疫戰鬥的領軍人物。上海醫療救治專家組組長、華山醫院的張文宏醫生。儘管他們來自不同的背景、地區，甚至不是同一代人，但卻有兩個共同點。首先，他們都是醫生。第二，他們都是中國共產黨員。

在這場病毒造成的苦難當中，中國共產黨始終是戰鬥在抗疫最前線的核心力量。張文宏醫生所在的醫院距離我家只有兩條街。他的一段講話被人拍下來傳到網上，獲得了巨大關注。在視頻中，他講到了上海醫療救治組的組織工作時洪亮有力地説道：“讓黨員先上，沒有討價還價的餘地！”

疫情期間，中國互聯網上每天都流傳着這樣的影像：一批批黨員志願者奔赴武漢之前，面對黨旗宣誓用自己的生命保護他人的生命。在抗疫前線殉職的496名醫護人員、公職人員和志願者當中，有328名是黨員。黨旗高高飄揚，這是用生命換來的輝煌。 

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▍中國沒有“壞皇帝”

**多年前，美國政治學家弗朗西斯•福山發明了一個術語，叫做“壞皇帝問題”。這個詞是為了從理論上闡述，在他定義的威權政治體制裏，儘管可能出現好的統治者，但卻沒有辦法防止壞的統治者獲得權力並破壞國家。**而西方一直視中國為威權政治體制，也因此習慣性地將中國領導人看作皇帝。此文不是辯論該理論是對是錯的場合，但是有一件事在我心目中已經無可置疑：中國不是威權政治體制，也沒有皇帝，只有需要為這個國家的前途擔負責任的決策者。

1月28日，習近平會見了世界衞生組織總幹事譚德塞，並借這個機會告訴全體國民，抗擊疫情的行動由他直接負責。在那個時候，中國民眾幾乎前所未有地覺得未來如此黯淡，充滿不確定性，作為領袖所必須承擔的巨大風險與壓力是顯而易見的。然而，機會主義和臨陣退縮從來不符合這位領袖人物的稟性。武漢乃至湖北大規模封城的決定會造成巨大而難以預測的後果，而這個決定想必只有他一個人能定奪，所有後果也只有他一個人來承擔。現在看來，這個決定拯救了整個國家。他主持了多次中央政治局會議，在會上發佈政策指令並公諸於眾；他戴着口罩出現在電視上，還面向17萬名一線政府官員和志願者召開電視電話會議。這些做法過去是沒有先例的。他在全中國民眾面前親自領導了這場“人民戰爭”。

新中國的任何一代領導人，都會受到很多的質疑和詆譭，有些來自國內，但更多來自國外，習近平也不例外。毫無疑問，在日趨複雜的國際環境裏，這些攻擊不會消停。一些西方媒體和政府指責中國官方壓制媒體和政治異見，以及對新疆的穆斯林實施有爭議的政策。一些國內的反對者則對中央政府最近的一系列權力集中舉措表示不滿。然而在我相識的人中，無論是商界人士、政治評論員，甚至是那些很尖鋭的反對者，都對他在這次幾十年不遇的重大危機中所展現出的領導力表示認可。我相信，在這場疫情過後，他在中國普通民眾中的威望將會達到新高。

習近平的領導提高了政府整體在民眾當中的信譽度。顯然，地方政府在疫情早期階段犯下了錯誤，導致響應行動有所延遲。當時，社會上許多人感到憤怒，特別是在得知發出預警的人被禁言之後，怨氣更加強烈。但要知道，中國當時對新冠病毒知之甚少，一時間措手不及很正常。現在，中國民眾駭然發現即使數月來14億中國人連續不斷地“吹哨”——甚至可以説是“拉響警報”——大聲疾呼世界警惕新冠肺炎的危險性，可許多國家政府治理體系仍然在疫情面前接近崩潰，才開始認真思考應對疫情的決策複雜性。我藉此機會吐槽一下福山教授的理論，回他一句：中國只有偉大的決策者，沒有“壞皇帝”！

對我個人而言，就像世界上很多人一樣，新冠病毒疫情無疑是我人生中迄今為止經歷的最大變局。作為一名商人和政治學學生，疫情當然對我的生活造成了非同小可的影響；但對我最大的衝擊莫過於一個當父親的情感。我的子女就讀於上海的公立學校。1月27日，上海宣佈推遲原定於2月的春季開學日期。孩子們自然興高采烈。但他們的欣喜並沒有持續太久。大約兩週後，上海市教育局下令學校復課，僅比原計劃晚了十多天，只不過改用網絡方式教學。他們在極短的時間內完成了全部課程的改造使之與網絡學習模式相適應。

從那一天起，網課每天上午8點開課，下午4點下課。語文、數學、物理、英語，各種課程有條不紊地進行，除了被搬上電腦屏幕，和平日沒有區別。每天晚上孩子們交作業，把練習簿拍了照上傳至網課系統。第二天早上，老師把批閲之後的作業發下來，要求學生訂正錯誤。孩子待在家裏挺好的，只不過就是工作量太大，我們這些當父母的被搞得焦頭爛額。

3月19日早上，按照過去兩個月來養成的習慣，我一醒來就拿手機查看前一天的疫情數據。我看到：全國確診病例：80,928，死亡病例：3,245，新增本土確診病例：0！

我衝下樓去給孩子們通報好消息。當我走進餐廳，也就是他們的臨時教室時，屋裏忽然響起了國歌的前奏，我看到孩子們身穿全套校服肅立在電腦屏幕前，正在每天的升旗儀式中行注目禮。

我戛然止步，愴然涕下……

▍附：文章英文版

Life and work are gradually returning to normal in Shanghai. My colleagues and I are back in the office. Restaurants and bars have reopened—with a temperature check at the door. Hellobike, China’s largest bike-sharing company (of which I am an investor), is reporting that ridership is back to 70 percent of the pre-pandemic level. The same is happening by varying degrees in the rest of China. The nightmare that felt as if it would last forever may be behind us—knock on wood. Let me use this teachable moment to share five things I learned about China’s society and government.

Our understanding of China has been dominated by the narrative that an authoritarian one-party state is by definition incapable of retaining genuine public trust. This narrative has overwhelmed our perceptions, but it’s time to put it aside. Now that Mother Nature has delivered something with such impact, reality can no longer be ignored.

On Jan. 23, the Chinese government ordered the lockdown of the city of Wuhan and then the entire province of Hubei, with a total population of 56 million, making it the largest quarantine in human history. Two days later, all provinces except Tibet declared the highest level of health emergency, and more than 760 million urban dwellers were confined to their homes, being allowed to go out only for essential needs with face masks mandatory in all public places. Most rural villages were also closed off. At the time, total reported infections and deaths nationwide were 571 and 17, respectively—rather low considering what transpired afterward around the world.

The entire nation was surprised by the magnitude of the measure. Overnight in Shanghai, a city of 24 million people, streets that were clogged with traffic only days before became empty of both people and automobiles. At first I thought this would last a week, maybe two. But it went on—and on. People stayed home, and streets remained empty.

This immediate and nearly total compliance by hundreds of millions of people came as a genuine surprise to me. If you have been to China, you would know how unruly people can seem. Regular Chinese police are unarmed. On the streets of Shanghai, it is not uncommon to see someone arguing, often aggressively, with police officers over a traffic ticket. There is no way to explain the complete submission to a massive lockdown like this for so long by so many other than voluntary. Yes, self-interest can explain it in part because no one wants to get sick. But if we compare this with other countries where large crowds of educated young people congregated on beaches and in clubs in open defiance of their governments’ orders and warnings (at least in the initial phase) and where harsh police enforcement is still going on, it is clear that self-interest isn’t enough as an explanation. Only a very high degree of trust by the people in their political institutions’ expertise and ability to protect them can result in such compliance.

Some may argue that such submission was due to China’s strict security apparatus. This is off the mark for two reasons. First, security forces are only effective against small groups of activists, not a vast population of hundreds of millions of people if they chose to disobey en masse. Second, throughout the epidemic, there were few reports and little evidence of mass coercive actions to enforce lockdowns.

The government also went to extraordinary lengths in its communication with the public. Every day, new data was released—by city, by province, and nationwide. Every hour, government experts were on TV talking in detail about the new coronavirus and the nation’s evolving response. Every newspaper was writing about the importance of social distancing. In other words, the trust was not blind.

If you were immersed in Chinese social media in early February, you might have drawn the opposite conclusion. Public anger was raging in the midst of the biggest national trauma since the end of the Cultural Revolution. The alert mechanism for local authorities to provide early warnings to Beijing, which the government established after the SARS epidemic 15 years ago, apparently failed in the initial stage of the coronavirus outbreak. Many speculated that the bureaucratic fear of delivering bad news up the official chain caused the delay, exposing a significant fault in China’s political system. The uproar reached a boiling point when Li Wenliang, the Wuhan doctor who first warned of the danger of the coronavirus in December and was muzzled by the local police, succumbed to the virus himself. If that’s all you saw, it might be understandable for you to see this as China’s Chernobyl moment or the beginning of a version of the Arab Spring, as some indeed claimed. But that’s not how it turned out.

When the central government acted to mobilize for the most sweeping counter-epidemic operation in human history, the country coalesced. Half a million volunteers went to the front lines in Hubei province, risking their health and lives as medics, quarantine workers, and logistics personnel. Nationwide, more than 2 million citizens have registered and served as volunteers. Social media began to be flooded with their inspiring stories and images. Cafes and restaurants were providing free food and drinks to volunteers, even though their businesses were suffering catastrophic losses. One picture that went viral showed a Wuhan community worker covered shoulder to toe with medicine packages he was carrying for home delivery. Virtually every neighborhood in the country organized 24-hour checkpoints with volunteers and security personnel controlling access and checking people’s temperatures. Many communities also organized volunteers to check on the livelihoods of vulnerable residents like the elderly. Imagine this happening with 1.4 billion people, on every street, in every neighborhood, in every village! There has been virtually no crime.

On the internet, the government and various social institutions put out an enormous volume of information about the characteristics of the coronavirus and the progress of the pandemic. There was massive public engagement on social media for the dissemination of information. Now I watch Western experts and authorities talking on CNN and BBC about such things as the length of time the virus can survive on hard surfaces or in aerosol form. But these are things tens of millions of Chinese netizens were already talking about, every day and every hour, back in February.

From the top down, the government called for a “people’s war” against the pandemic. And this is exactly what happened, from the bottom up. I had more or less bought into the common assumption among many political thinkers that civil society was weak in China because the authoritarian party-state would not allow it to flourish. But now it occurred to me that this was based on the common liberal definition of civil society as something apart from or even in opposition the state. If we look at Chinese civil society in the classical definition of the term, what Aristotle called koinonia politike—political community that is not distinct from the state—it appeared throughout this pandemic to be perhaps the most vibrant in the world.

One of the most endlessly debated topics, not just in China, is the relationship between the market and the state. Well, this time the state has won—and won big. It is abundantly clear to everyone except the most die-hard neoliberals that the preservation of state capacity (alongside the growth of the market) has saved China from an unimaginable catastrophe with potentially hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of deaths.

At the onset of the counter-epidemic operation in late January, the Chinese state swung into action. The central government coordinated national medical resources to quickly concentrate on Hubei province. In total, 217 medical teams with more than 42,000 medical personnel were dispatched to Hubei from around the country, along with equipment and supplies. The central government coordinated the shipment of around 17,000 ventilators to Hubei. The result was that the epicenter of the outbreak never experienced any major shortage of ventilators.

An enormous new hospital with 1,000 beds was built in Wuhan in 10 days. Following that, 16 additional makeshift hospitals with a total of 13,000 beds were built across the city in existing structures such as convention centers to care for mild-symptom patients in a quarantined environment. Sinopec, the state-owned energy giant that produces raw materials for industrial masks, took 35 days to redesign and repurpose its production lines to support medical mask production. Automakers also used their assembly lines to pump out masks and other medical supplies. Mask production went from 20 million per day in January to 116 million in late February.

So who did these things? The doctors and nurses who were sent to Hubei from around the country were mostly state employees working in state-operated hospitals. The companies that built the hospitals and produced most of the masks were state-owned enterprises.

The entire operation was incredibly well coordinated for such a large country. From Beijing, the central government rolled out measures in the provinces on a weekly and sometimes daily basis. The provincial governments were given orders with the leeway to adapt them to local conditions. Then the provincial governments did the same downward to cities and counties. It also worked the other way around: Local governments sent their findings and suggestions to Beijing. The makeshift hospital idea, for example, came from an academic team studying the situation in Wuhan and found that existing hospitals were not enough to deal with a large number of mild-symptom patients who posed a contagion threat. They sent the findings and proposal to Beijing, and it was approved and ordered to be implemented within 24 hours.

The state also moved quickly to soften the economic impact of the crisis. In addition to direct subsidies to companies, the government adjusted the enforcement practices of the labor law so companies could be relieved of their obligations to pay employees full salaries when there was no business. In exchange, companies were asked not to lay off employees and to keep them on the payroll with minimum wage and health benefits. Businesses were entitled to have their rents reduced or even waived if their landlords were state-owned enterprises.

Through this crisis, three individuals emerged from relative obscurity to national fame. Li, the initial whistleblower whose warnings were not heeded, died of COVID-19. Zhong Nanshan, the national public health czar for the pandemic, has been the public face of the counter-epidemic operation, similar to Anthony Fauci in the United States. Zhang Wenhong is the Huashan Hospital doctor who has been leading the counter-epidemic operation in Shanghai. They are from very different personal backgrounds and geographical regions and of different generations but share two things in common. First, they are all doctors. Second, they are all veteran members of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP).

The party has been the most conspicuous presence throughout this ordeal. Zhang works in the hospital two blocks from my house. He was recorded in a video speaking about the organization of the medical team for the defense of Shanghai. In his booming voice, he said, “Party members go first, no questions asked!” The video went viral.

Day in and day out, the Chinese internet was flooded with images of party-member volunteers swearing their oaths before the CCP flag on their way to Wuhan, pledging to place the lives of others before their own. Of the 496 health workers and volunteers who died on the front lines as of April 29, 328 were party members.

Some years ago, the American political scientist Francis Fukuyama coined the term “bad emperor problem.” It was meant to theorize that in an authoritarian political system, even if there can be good rulers, there is little to prevent a bad ruler from gaining power and ruining the country. This is not the time or the place to debate this theory. But one thing I do know now is that Xi is a “good emperor.”

On Jan. 28, Xi used a meeting with the head of the World Health Organization to tell the nation that he was directly in charge of the counter-epidemic operation. At that time, the future had never seemed bleaker and more uncertain, but opportunism and shirking responsibility are not within this leader’s character. The decision to lock down Wuhan and Hubei carried such enormous consequences that it was likely to have been his and his alone. And it turned out to be the decision that saved the nation from a devastating catastrophe. In an unprecedented practice, he chaired the Politburo Standing Committee meetings to issue policy directives and made them public. He wore a mask in his public appearances. He held a videoconference with 170,000 front-line government officials and volunteers. Indeed, the “people’s war” was led by him personally in front of the entire nation.

As a strong leader, Xi certainly has had his share of detractors, especially internationally but also domestically, and will no doubt continue to have them. Western media and governments have attacked his government for the tightening of restrictions on media and political dissent and for its controversial policies toward Muslims in Xinjiang. Some domestic opponents disagree with the recent moves to centralize political power in Beijing. But among my circle of business acquaintances and political commentators in China, even some of his harshest critics have acknowledged his stewardship during this once-in-a-generation crisis. I believe his popularity among the general public will soar after this.

Xi’s leadership has raised the public credibility of the entire government. It is clear that mistakes were made at the early stages that resulted in a delay in responding to the outbreak. And there was justified anger, especially at the apparent silencing of the whistleblower Li. But it is also true that China was caught by surprise by a virus about which little was known. Now, as Chinese watch in horror as many countries’ governments struggle to contain the pandemic even after 1.4 billion people showed the world what was coming for months on end, their own government’s initial mistakes—though worthy of examination and reflection—no longer feel so unforgivable. China is fortunate to have the right leader at the right time.

For me, as for so many around the world, COVID-19 is certainly the most extraordinary event of my lifetime. It has certainly impacted me as a businessman and a student of politics. But it had the most emotional effect on me as a parent. My children attend public schools in Shanghai. On Jan. 27, Shanghai announced the delay of the start of the spring semester that had been scheduled for February. Being kids, they celebrated. But their euphoria did not last long. About two weeks later, the Shanghai Education Bureau ordered the reopening of schools only 10 days behind the regular schedule—but online. They had adapted, in record time, the entire curriculum for online learning. The new materials were sent to us by email to be printed out. My home inkjet printer died on the second day. I bought an industrial-strength laser printer and printed more than a thousand pages of middle school textbook materials.

Every school day now starts at 8 a.m. and ends at 4 p.m. Chinese, math, physics, English—one session after another in front of the computer screen as on regular school days. Homework has to be turned in every evening by taking pictures of the workbook and uploading it onto the school system. The next morning, they are graded and corrections demanded. Having the kids at home is nice. But the workload on us parents is brutal. I have never screamed at the kids so much.

On the morning of March 19, I woke up and reached for my phone to check the coronavirus numbers from the day before, as I had every morning for almost two months. That morning, I saw a total of 80,928 confirmed cases in China and 3,245 cumulative deaths. The total number of new confirmed cases: zero!

I rushed downstairs to tell the kids the good news. As I walked into the dining room, which served as their makeshift classroom, I was stopped by the prelude to the national anthem. My children were standing before their computer screens in their full school uniforms, observing the daily flag-raising ceremony. I had not cried in a very long time.

本文英文版首發於《外交政策》網站**，中文版首發於觀察者網****，原題為“抗疫成功，中國人民更信任自己的領導人”。**圖片來源於網絡，如有侵權，敬請聯繫刪除。歡迎個人分享，媒體轉載請聯繫本公眾號。