On Feb. 7, 2020, Dr. Li Wenliang, a Chinese ophthalmologist at the Wuhan Center Hospital, died from the novel coronavirus, 35 days after he was investigated, interrogated and warned by Wuhan public security bureau after he supposedly spread “rumors about 2019-nCov on the internet.”
With his death, the general public finally realized that what he said to his 500 fellow doctors weren’t rumors but censored facts. On Dec. 30, 2019, he warned his colleagues about the seriousness of the new virus. This warning was 29 days after the first confirmed case of the new coronavirus. On Jan. 3, he got punished for “spreading rumors.” On Jan. 21, officials finally acknowledged the virus was contagious. This was 29 days after the first confirmed case of this new coronavirus, one day before the state-sponsored media reported about it, 22 days before the official finally acknowledged that it can spread from person to person, and four days before he got punished for “spreading rumors.”
(source: screenshot from Wikipedia)
On Jan. 3, 2020, he signed the “official letter of criticism” to keep his medical license, promising that he could “actively cooperate with the police, heed their advice and stop his illegal behavior,” saying that he understands that “he should reflect on his behavior and stop doing this illegal activity” (sources from online magazine “Sixth Tone”). “Illegal activity” here refers to his warning in the chat group. The dealing process of this “rumor” was covered by state media in that day’s news.
Just over a month after he signed the “letter of criticism,” his infection and death proved that he was telling the truth, and it has shaken the whole world. Memorial ceremonies took place all over the world. People thanked him for daring to give a warning when it is prohibited and admired him for fulfilling his duty as a doctor as well as a citizen. He was considered to be the whistleblower of this public health incident.
We should all remember him. His action may not be heroic, as many people argued: all he did is simply warning his colleagues and loved ones to be careful about the very contagious virus; he was just doing what a common doctor would do; and he was not brave enough to spread the message to the public or question the local CDC. However, he is a hero for daring to still fulfill his responsibility of truth-telling as a citizen as well as a doctor under a context in which few dares or has the awareness to do so. This makes his actions significant to not only people in his city and country, but also people from all over the world. He not only warned people about the coronavirus, but also reminded them the necessity and the power of keeping to be an aware citizen and keeping to tell the truth when the society does not encourage these qualities. In a society that does not cultivate heroes, it is respectful to be a kind and responsible citizen.
His death also stimulated people to self-reflect: what led to his interrogation, infection and death? Did normal people as ourselves contribute to his death when we tolerate the people in power to punish him, the “rumor disseminator?” Did we contribute to his death by failing to act and ignoring our duties as citizens? By doing his job and fulfilling his duty, Dr. Li raises awareness of the importance for everyone to accomplish the duty and right as citizens. When we commemorate him, we also remind ourselves to never tolerate injustice.
“In a healthy society, there shouldn’t be only one voice,” Dr. Li said in a telephone interview several days before he died, after recalling his experience of witnessing the outbreak of the new virus. Many defined this as the true “whistleblowing moment” of Dr. Li. I think what Dr. Li said here is self-explanatory and no analysis is needed to reveal its significance. As a doctor, he diagnosed a disease one last time for the society he resided in after witnessing its failure, urging it to be more inclusive of voices of people and stop making state-regulated official information the only information people are able to receive. This last word makes Dr. Li be remembered not only for his actions, but also for his symbolic significance in the combat against the unmerciful control of speech.
One day after Li’s death, my hometown Beijing, a city known for its meager chance of snowing in winter, snowed furiously for a whole night. Next day at dawn, by the bank of Tonghui river, a person wrote several huge characters meaning “farewell Li Wenliang” in the snow. Then, he laid down silently by the characters, using his body to write a huge exclamation mark, as a message to the world still asleep to the disease.
