The Chinese Communist Party leadership recently abandoned its “zero-COVID” policy.

As last spring’s lockdown of Shanghai demonstrated, China’s war against the virus had three main components: comprehensive testing, isolating COVID-19 patients and blockading outbreak sites (lockdowns). In the end, this three-pronged approach proved to be no match for the omicron variant. China has lost its battle to achieve and maintain its zero-COVID status.

Since China reversed its COVID-19 policy, the number of reported infections has plummeted. This is due to a dramatic decline in polymerase chain reaction testing. Decreased testing, however, makes it harder to identify and trace positive cases — and thus grasp the actual situation. Consequently, infections spread, intensive care units overflow and the medical care system breaks down.

The Chinese government has touted its success in limiting COVID-19-related deaths over the past three years to approximately 5,000 — a success that stands in stark contrast to the approximately 1.1 million COVID-19 deaths in the United States. However, a research firm recently predicted that an explosive increase in infections in China could result in between 700,000 and 1.6 million deaths. As this would likely involve a simultaneous outbreak across the whole country, the Chinese government would not be able to mobilize doctors and nurses from every corner of China as it did during the spring 2020 lockdown of Wuhan. At that time, as many as 42,600 medical workers were sent to Wuhan.

The biggest problem is that the CCP leadership never prepared an alternative to its zero-COVID policy. Government officials were too busy extolling their COVID-19 success story as proof of the supremacy of China’s political system and the effectiveness of Xi Jinping’s leadership to draft a Plan B. The central government has changed course without any clear exit strategy.

It is not clear where they are heading. In times such as these, China’s central government imposes difficult decisions on local governments and cities in an attempt to shift responsibility. Local governments thus assume the stance that “if a policy comes from above, there will be countermeasures from below.” In times like the present, when there is no policy from above, those below will act out of concern for their own interests and self-preservation.

This is borne out by an incident that occurred in late March 2020. After travel restrictions imposed during the lockdown of Wuhan (in Hubei province) were relaxed, a number of Hubei residents tried to cross the Jiujiang Yangtze River Bridge into neighboring Jianxi province. Their passage was blocked by Jianxi police officers stationed at a bridge checkpoint, leading to a confrontation between a crowd of Hubei residents and the Jiangxi police. When Hubei police officers intervened in support of the Hubei residents attempting to cross over, they were assaulted by a group of more than 10 Jianxi police officers in what became a major skirmish. The riot occurred because the central government had never issued a clear policy or instructions regarding the movement of citizens across provincial borders.

The post-Mao Chinese Communist Party has governed through an implicit social contract: Chinese citizens recognize one-party dictatorship (or in the case of Xi Jinping, one-man dictatorship) and do not involve themselves in politics. In exchange, the government guarantees economic stability and people’s livelihoods. This contract was shredded under the government’s zero-COVID policy. The defeat of this policy has exposed the greatest weakness of the CCP political structure.

Given our earlier experience with The Independent Investigation Commission on the Fukushima Nuclear Accident, my think tank (the Asia Pacific Initiative, formerly the Rebuild Japan Initiative Foundation) went on to identify nine possible crisis scenarios for Japan and recommend proper management responses. The English language report on this collaborative research project was published by CLSA in 2014 as "Japan in Peril: 9 Crisis Scenarios."

In the concluding chapter of this report, a member of our research team, Kansai University professor of crisis management, Shingo Nagamatsu, recalled a question he once posed to a professor at Tsinghua University in Beijing: “What is the biggest target for crisis management in China?” The Tsinghua University professor replied: “That would be the Chinese people.”

China’s policymakers see their own people as the greatest risk when it comes to crisis management. In times of crisis, those in power are so terrified of public panic that they view the people, who may be out of their control, as the actual source of the crisis, rather than the triggering event itself. This phenomenon is known as “elite panic.”

In the case of China, people in positions of power — especially at the local level — are expected to perform the role of “parent-officials.” This is a form of governance in which officials discipline, sometimes comfort and force people to obey, much like parents. They cannot risk the shame associated with elite panic. What sort of severe admonishment are these “parents” now pondering for the young people who wordlessly resisted their authority by joining hands and holding up blank sheets of paper?

After the Tiananmen Square protests, the Chinese government attracted young people with economic growth, optimism and patriotism. This strategy was successful and produced many patriotic young people who were proud of China. Many of these young people scorned Hong Kong, despised Taiwan and mocked the Xinjiang Uyghur ethnic minority.

This balloon of youth patriotism (nationalism) burst with the failure of the domestic COVID-19 vaccine. Chinese Communist Party leaders will now rely even more heavily on propaganda that promotes anti-American sentiment and fuels Chinese nationalism. They will play the patriotism card as a last resort. But when that card has been played, will the young people of China respond by holding up a blank sheet of paper?

Yoichi Funabashi is the chairman of the Global Council of the International House of Japan and former editor-in-chief of the Asahi Shimbun. This is a translation of his column in the monthly Bungei Shunju.