Penn Pandemic Diary, Asia-Pacific Penn Pandemic Diary, Entry #41: Developing Countries, Developing Questions

Chonnipha Piriyalertsak is a sophomore majoring in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics with a minor in History at the University of Pennsylvania. In summer 2020, Piriyalertsak was a summer intern at Perry World House.

When Penn went online in mid-March, I was left with a dilemma: to stay in the United States, or go home to Bangkok? With what I know now, this shouldn’t have been a difficult decision: Thailand has had zero recorded local transmission since May 25, whereas the US has the most cases in the world. Even without this hindsight, one glance at the Trump administration’s public health plan (or lack thereof) should have been enough for me to head for the fastest way out, especially if my alternative was a country with experience dealing with SARS and H1N1.

However, I found leaving the US to be an agonizing decision, and not just because of the risks of air travel, which were very real, and very terrifying. I, along with many of my Thai friends, automatically assumed that there was no way that Thailand could contain the virus better than the United States. Ultimately, I decided to come home at the urging of my parents, but some of my Thai friends stayed, believing that it would be safer in America.

Looking back, I can’t help but wonder: why were we so quick to doubt Thailand’s ability to contain the virus, especially in comparison to the United States? It pains me to admit it, but the notion of my home as a “developing”, or even a ‘third-world’ country is still very much ingrained into my perception. The next step in this generalized line of argument is the assumption that developed countries have a higher capacity to deal with public health crises. When capacity refers to resources like scientific know-how and technology, this may be true.

However, the disastrous consequences of COVID-19 in the United States leave me questioning: what does it really mean to be a ‘developed’ country? The United States may have the highest GDP in the world, but this pandemic has further exposed how healthcare isn’t accessible or affordable for many of its citizens, along with a lack of transparency and consistency in its public health communications. In contrast, Vietnam, a so-called ‘developing’ country, was able to keep its COVID-19 death toll down at zero all the way to July 31, due its significant investments in the healthcare system and a willingness to follow the advice of health experts. Clearly, the quality of policy-making was the main factor behind the disparity between these two countries, so how do we account for that when categorizing countries by stages of development?

Another factor that plays into disbelief towards the competence of developing countries could be the East-West divide. As China’s COVID-19 numbers started to lower, international news outlets and political figures flooded the media with allegations that the declining rates could not possibly be true. While I am in no position to vouch for these numbers or comment on the possible role of the Chinese government’s manipulation of the data, it did surprise me that many found the rates impossible to believe. After all, despite their initial mistakes in containing the virus, China’s policies of lockdown and containment have undeniably been extremely thorough, especially compared to countries like the United Kingdom and Sweden. With all the loud voices of racism and xenophobia, I am reminded that the East-West divide is constantly present in most narratives, both in the classroom and in the media. Despite attempts by bigots to frame the virus as an Asia-inflicted problem, I’m noticing that aspects of Asian cultural norms that even I used to dismiss as outdated have been beneficial in flattening the curve: collective society, discipline, and caution. 

Now that I’m at home, I look at the United States with a sense of bewilderment and fear. Throughout a summer of quarantine, I have pondered so many questions about the country which I called my home for a year. For instance, how has mask wearing been politicized? How are states reopening when there are still thousands of cases? Why is the government so intent on endangering the health of students and educators by forcing them back into school?

Of course, I am not holding up any country’s response as the perfect ideal to aspire to— in Thailand’s process of flattening the curve, many people’s livelihoods have been destroyed, and our economic outlook has been deemed “the worst in Asia.” I also try to keep in mind that I have the luxury of writing this piece from self-isolation, with food and shelter secure. It is easy for me to praise and critique policies from my quarantined bubble, not fully comprehending the real impact on those who do not have the same privileges.

As I look towards the rest of the 2020-2021 academic year, I’m now struggling with the decision in reverse: do I go back to the United States, or do I stay home? If you’d asked me back in March, I would have gone back in a heartbeat. Now, I’m not so sure.

The views expressed in the Penn Pandemic Diary are solely the author’s and not those of Penn or Perry World House.