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Giada De Laurentiis’ healthier chocolate chip banana bread doesn’t sacrifice on flavor

Like most people, we’re no stranger to the great pain of craving a sweet treat and the even greater joy of indulging in one. More specifically, we know how crummy it feels when you can’t immediately satisfy a craving for banana bread. Whether it’s coffee time, dessert time or midnight snack time, banana bread fits the bill. Considering how many times a day we’re in the mood for this delicious bread, it would be risky to always have a loaf at the ready. 

Thankfully, Giada De Laurentiis saved the day again when she recently shared a new banana bread on social media that’s not a total calorie bomb. With substitutes like almond milk and rice flour, Giada has developed a gluten-free recipe for her new book “Eat Better, Feel Better” that’s the perfect combination of healthy and crave-worthy. But Giada promises on her website that “if you didn’t know any better, you’d probably never guess that it’s totally gluten-free!” 

The recipe itself is essentially two simple steps: whiskey the ingredients together and baking the bread. The only thing you need to do is remember to fold in the chocolate chips. While you can certainly omit them if you want, “they’re a non-negotiable addition” for Giada. But they’re not the only delicious add-on we’re dealing with here: Once the batter is safely transferred to a prepared pan, walnuts go on top. 

After your bread is out of the oven, it’s yours to enjoy guilt-free at any time of the day. It’s the perfect goody that cuts calories without compromising on flavor or texture. You can savor this bread for up to a month by putting individual slices in your freezer, so they’re at the ready the next time a craving comes along. But we predict that a rotating cast of loaves will inevitably come to occupy a permanent space on your kitchen counter once you give this recipe a whirl. Full instructions here.

For more of our favorite recipes from Giada, check out: 

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The absolute best way to make croutons, according to so many tests

In Absolute Best TestsElla Quittner destroys the sanctity of her home kitchen in the name of the truth. She’s boiled dozens of eggs, mashed a concerning number of potatoes, and seared more porterhouse steaks than she cares to recall. Today, she tackles croutons.

* * *

On the wall of a café in the historic district of Moscow, not far from the Elektrozavodskaya metro station, hangs the portrait of a young woman. She stares into the eyes of whoever passes her canvas, lips parted merrily to reveal just her upper incisors. Strands of hair whip across her forehead and nose as if she’s caught in a gust of wind.

She is made from 40,000 croutons, and one day, she will crumble into nothing but dust.

“It was a pleasure to work with such a material as bread, because it has a very good energy. I felt bright vibes while working with croutons,” said Zoom, the Russian artist who spent more than a month baking the bread cubes that constitute this bread woman, no relation to the video conference call you’re currently shirking.

“I wanted to re-create the mood of family Sunday morning when you feel the smell of a freshly baked bread made for you by people who love you [with] a young, innocent, sun-kissed girl who radiates the warmth of a beautiful Sunday morning,” he told me.

Indeed, Zoom’s portrait caught my eye because it’s stunning. But mostly it caught my eye because I was reckoning with an assignment to bake an inordinate amount of croutons myself, for Absolute Best Tests.

If Zoom could handle 40,000, I reasoned, then I could manage a couple hundred.

Crouton, a term a few times removed from the French croûte (crust), refers to a small piece of stale or twice-baked bread typically flavored with a fat and seasonings, used to garnish a salad or soup. The internet professes that croutons can be made with almost any type of bread, in neat cubes or roughly torn. Zoom used “simple supermarket bread” for his carby hexahedrons, which he baked in six batches of varying doneness to create a palette with tonal range. He reported “a constant smell of baked bread everywhere” for the duration. For my crouton trials, I chose loaves of sourdough from Sullivan Street Bakery, with a nice, loose crumb capable of drinking in lots of fat and expelling moisture with haste.

As for what makes a perfect crouton, Zoom is a bit more figurative than most recipes I googled: “We all know that bread has sacred meaning for people. That’s what makes it delicious.”

With that in my back pocket (which is what I call the waistband of the leggings I’ve been wearing for five days), I set out to test the crouton fundamentals . . .

* * *

Controls and Fine Print

For each test, I used the Community Loaf from Sullivan Street Bakery, a sturdy bread with a large, airy crumb. Conventional crouton wisdom would have you avoid loaves with an especially tight or moist crumb, since they take longer to crisp.

Each trial called for:

  • 1 1/2 cups cubed, crustless bread (except in the Torn trial, in which shapes were erratic)
  • 3 tablespoons cooking fat (olive oil or melted butter, or 1 1/2 tablespoons each, depending on the trial)
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

I would have to resign as a crouton commentator if I didn’t mention that you can and should add bonus seasonings to your bread before you bake it. For the sake of my experiment, I stuck to salt. But cheese powder, dried herbs, gochugaru, grated garlic, black pepper, or really anything delicious that won’t burn in the oven is fair play.

* * *

Round 1: Shape

I ran two trials, using the 425°F Oven method (below) and Oil as controls.

Torn

Inspired by The New York Times

  1. Heat the oven to 425°F.
  2. Remove the crust of your bread and cut into inch-thick strips. Tear into bite-size pieces.
  3. In a large bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of bread pieces with 3 tablespoons of olive oil and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt until the oil is fully absorbed. Taste one and season with additional salt as needed.
  4. Place on a sheet pan, careful not to crowd (which would inhibit crisping).
  5. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until fragrant, golden, and crunchy on the outside. Give the pan a shake once or twice midway through for more even browning.
  6. Remove from the oven and let cool before using.

The obvious benefit to free-form croutons is the efficiency in the preparation. Neatly slicing a loaf of bread into consistent cubes takes time (roughly one half of a Survivor episode per batch). Slicing into strips, then tearing produces similar results, but takes half as long.

Unfortunately, the torn pieces didn’t pick up as much salt as their hexadronal counterparts, which made the resultant croutons a bit bland. But what they lacked in seasoning, they made up for in delightful mouthfeel. Each roughly hewn crout (I am running out of ways to say crouton) produced the oral sensation of crushing a multifaceted orb with my teeth. I was shocked when not a single one released one of Professor Trelawney’s premonitions. The extra crags and edges made for more fun crunch than the plain-Jane cubes, which I realize confirms that I’ve never really experienced true fun, but let’s not dwell!

The Torn batch was less browned, because the irregularity of the surfaces meant less pan contact. The internal texture was less even as well, with some fully crisp and others with a hint of soft belly, which very well may break the rules of a crouton but dammit I say we color outside the lines on this one.

Cubed

  1. Heat the oven to 425°F.
  2. In a large bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of bread cubes with 3 tablespoons of olive oil and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt until the oil is fully absorbed. Taste one and season with additional salt as needed.
  3. Place on a sheet pan, careful not to crowd (which would inhibit crisping).
  4. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until fragrant, golden, and crunchy on the outside. Give the pan a shake once or twice midway through for more even browning.
  5. Remove from the oven and let cool before using.

The crouton cube absorbs oil more evenly than an irregularly shaped specimen. The result: even browning, and more flavor since the salt had lots of surface area to cling to.

Unsurprisingly, these croutons were far less exciting to eat than the Torn ones, though there’s something to be said for evenly sized, toasty bread pieces. (However, that something is: “Wow, we are overthinking this.”)

* * *

Round 2: Fat

I ran three trials, each using the 425°F Oven method and Cube shape as controls.

Butter

  1. Heat the oven to 425°F.
  2. In a large bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of bread cubes with 3 tablespoons of melted butter and 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt until the butter is absorbed. Taste one and season with additional salt as needed.
  3. Place on a sheet pan, careful not to crowd (which would inhibit crisping).
  4. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until fragrant, golden, and crunchy on the outside. Give the pan a shake once or twice midway through for more even browning.
  5. Remove from the oven and let cool before using.

The melted butter was absorbed much more quickly into the bread pieces than Oil — in about half the time. Its efficiency advantage ended there though. Butter croutons took a few minutes longer to crisp in the oven than their oil-only competition, perhaps because American butter can be composed of 15 percent water or more (merely a guess, scientists please take the mic).

On the flavor front, these croutons were wonderfully reminiscent of diner-griddled bread, like what swaddles a tuna melt or grilled cheese: all sour bread notes and a hint of browned butter.

Oil

  1. Heat the oven to 425°F.
  2. In a large bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of bread cubes with 3 tablespoons of olive oil and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt until the oil is fully absorbed. Taste one and season with additional salt as needed.
  3. Place on a sheet pan, careful not to crowd (which would inhibit crisping).
  4. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until fragrant, golden, and crunchy on the outside. Give the pan a shake once or twice midway through for more even browning.
  5. Remove from the oven and let cool before using.

Despite causing a bit of a backup in wait time while it absorbed into the bread pieces, Oil proved a worthy competitor in the oven, producing more evenly browned croutons that tasted like movie theater popcorn. Given their different advantages and disadvantages with prep and cook time, I would rank Oil croutons and Butter croutons exactly evenly, and suggest you use the fat whose flavor you prefer, unless you’re the type of crouton obsessive who loses sleep over irregular browning (in which case, use oil, but also please never host me for a sleepover).

Butter and Oil

Inspired by Two Peas and Their Pod

  1. Heat the oven to 425°F.
  2. In a large bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of bread cubes with 1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil, 1 1/2 tablespoons of melted butter, and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt until the oil is absorbed. Taste one and season with additional salt as needed.
  3. Place on a sheet pan, careful not to crowd (which would inhibit crisping).
  4. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until fragrant, golden, and crunchy on the outside. Give the pan a shake once or twice midway through for more even browning.
  5. Remove from the oven and let cool before using.

“My word, what a treat,” read my completely unhinged field notes about these croutons, so apparently they turned me into a well-behaved ’40s starlet taking her first sip of a Manhattan? Beyond completely transforming my lexicon and vibe, they also made me squeal with delight, as they tasted like Ritz Crackers, and had a surface texture like edible fiberglass. Somehow, the combination of Butter & Oil produced croutons with crispier exteriors than either Butter or Oil on their own.

* * *

Round 3: Method

I ran four trials, each using Oil and a Cube shape as controls.

425°F Oven

Inspired by Bon Appétit.

  1. Heat the oven to 425°F.
  2. In a large bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of bread cubes with 3 tablespoons of olive oil and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt until the oil is absorbed. Taste one and season with additional salt as needed.
  3. Place on a sheet pan, careful not to crowd (which would inhibit crisping).
  4. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until fragrant, golden, and crunchy on the outside. Give the pan a shake once or twice midway through for more even browning.
  5. Remove from the oven and let cool before using.

After the Broiler method, the 425°F Oven method was quickest, and produced evenly crunchy croutons. If standardized croutons get you going, consider starting with this method and trying out different fats, seasonings, and shapes from here.

350°F Oven

  1. Heat the oven to 350°F.
  2. In a large bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of bread cubes with 3 tablespoons olive oil and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt until oil is absorbed. Taste one and season with additional salt as needed.
  3. Place on a sheet pan, careful not to crowd (which would inhibit crisping).
  4. Bake for 22 to 28 minutes, until fragrant, golden, and crunchy on the outside. Give the pan a shake once or twice midway for more even browning.
  5. Remove from the oven and let cool before using.

These barely took on any color, despite a long holiday in the oven. They did get extremely crispy, though, crispier even (specifically in their middles!) than any other batch. From an efficiency perspective, this method is not ideal, but we’re talking an extra 10 minutes, so let’s pick our battles.

Skillet

Inspired by FoodieCrush

  1. In a large bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of bread cubes with 3 tablespoons of olive oil and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt until oil is absorbed. Taste one and season with additional salt as needed.
  2. Heat a cast-iron skillet over medium heat for about 2 minutes.
  3. Add the bread cubes and cook for about 5 minutes, until the bottom sides are golden. Flip and keep toasting. Continue this until they’re as golden and crisp as you like, about 15 to 20 minutes total.
  4. Let cool before using.

Even in texture these croutons are not, since unlike in an oven, the heat is coming from only one side. A lot of flipping must take place if you want to avoid soft centers (but please sign my petition for soft-centered croutons as the new norm, thanks) or erratically over-toasted sides. Another limitation here is batch size, unless you’ve got a big griddle or multiple skillets. The Skillet method did add more flavor than the oven, with a bit of char here and there that the Oven croutons never got.

Broiler

  1. Heat the broiler.
  2. In a large bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of bread cubes with 3 tablespoons of olive oil and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt until oil is absorbed. Taste one and season with additional salt as needed.
  3. Place on a sheet pan, careful not to crowd (which would inhibit crisping).
  4. Place the pan on the rack closest to the broiler. Watch closely to avoid burning. Carefully shake the pan every now and again for even exposure to the broiler.
  5. When the croutons are fragrant, golden, and crunchy, remove from the oven and let cool.

Whoa, Broiler croutons, what a trip. So fast, not at all furious. They were texturally irregular, though the ones with soft centers proved less chewy than the soft-centered Skillet croutons, perhaps because the heat source was so much more intense. The color these croutons assumed was also quite irregular, appearing more as char-stripes, but the charring was incredibly delicious. These reminded me more of tiny versions of the charred bread you might get with ricotta at a restaurant than something you’d use to garnish lettuce.

* * *

TL;DR

In conclusion, I love bread in pretty much all formats, but especially when tossed with salt and fat, then toasted! But this isn’t about me.

  • If you’re a stickler for even browning and textural consistency: Oil, a 425°F Oven and a Cubeshape will serve you well.
  • Should you desire less browned — but no less crispy — companions to your Caesar or broccoli soup, use the 350°F Oven method.
  • You can’t go wrong with Butter or Oil, but combining them is even better (flavor benefits of each, plus the browning benefits of oil).
  • Avoid the Broiler method unless you’re in a real time crunch and/or looking to surprise someone with zebra-striped, softish croutons.

Related reading

Why chefs are reaching for Japanese mayo (and you should be, too)

What is Japanese mayo? 

Unlike its American counterpart, Japanese mayo is made using just egg yolks, compared to the entire egg. Add a splash of rice vinegar and a hit of umami flavor, and you end up with one of the most craveable condiments on the planet. Kewpie is the original and best-known producer of Japanese mayo. 

Why chefs are reaching for Japanese mayo (and you should be, too)

Chicago chef Mari Katsumura jokes that, as a Japanese-American, she keeps a pretty heavy stockpile of Kewpie mayo in her home kitchen. If she runs out? “Oh, my mom always has like five backup bottles, so I can just run and grab one from her house.” 

Katsumura, who owns the Michelen-starred restaurant Yugen, describes the Japanese mayonnaise as being more “assertive” than many American brands. It typically only contains egg yolks, giving it a more custardy consistency when compared to American mayonnaise, which contains both the yolk and the whites. It’s also usually made with rice vinegar, as opposed to the distilled vinegar common in many vinegar recipes. 

Oh, and David Chang, the founder of the Momofuku empire, said in 2015, “[It’s] the best mayonnaise in the world because it has MSG.” (It should be noted that the American formulation of Kewpie does leave out the monosodium glutamate due to Americans’ largely unfounded fears about the additive.) 

At her restaurant, Katsumura and her staff make it from scratch, but Kewpie is the most popular brand of Japanese mayonnaise in the world. 

“The acid is a bit higher, it’s a little sweeter and the umami content is a little stronger, as well,” she says. “So I’d say, compared to Hellman’s — Hellman’s would be a five on a scale of one to 10 in terms of flavor, while Kewpie mayo is probably like a nine out of 10 in terms of flavor. So definitely use it sparingly.” 

Kewpie mayonnaise was invented in 1924 by Toichiro Nakashima, who had first encountered mayonnaise while spending about three years in the U.K. and U.S. as an overseas intern of the then Japan Department of Agriculture and Commerce. According to the Kewpie Corporation’s history, “Nakashima saw its way of life changing, one example being the Westernization of female students’ clothes [and] he sensed that change would come to the Japanese diet, as well.” 

He decided to create a “highly nutritious mayonnaise made using only egg yolks” that could be used as an accompaniment for vegetables. Like all mayonnaise, it’s made through magical art of emulsification. Vinegar and egg yolks — which contain the emulsifier lecithin — are rapidly whisked together. Then oil is added, drop by drop, as the entire mixture begins to thicken and take on a slightly golden, glossy sheen. 

Nakashima had a product, but he needed a name. After some deliberation, he settled on “Kewpie,” which was a brand of cupid-esque dolls and figurines that were originally conceived as comic strip characters by Missouri cartoonist Rose O’Neill in 1909. According to the State Historical Society of Missouri, O’Neill described the characters as “a sort of little round fairy whose one idea is to teach people to be merry and kind at the same time.” 

Details on where Nakashima first encountered the “Kewpie babies” is fuzzy. It’s likely that he at least saw them while living in the U.S., as both Kewpie paper dolls and bisque figurines were popular at the time, and a variety of O’Neill’s characters were used in advertisements for companies like Jell-O, Colgate, Kellogg’s Corn Flakes and Sears. It’s also possible he first encountered them closer to home. In the mid-1920s, celluloid versions of Kewpies, which were smaller and cheaper than their ceramic counterparts, began to be manufactured in Japan. 

Regardless, Kewpies were internationally ubiquitous at the time Nakashima launched his mayonnaise, and he decided to lift the name and logo. 

That decision wasn’t without controversy. According to a 1998 Associated Press report, Kazuo Kitagawa, who acquired the Kewpie doll’s Japanese copyright in May from the Missouri-based Rose O’Neill Foundation, demanded $7 million in damages from the Kewpie Corporation (or Q.P. Corp). Kitagawa, who ran a doll museum and toy shop in Japan, said at the time that he was “only trying to do right by Kewpie,” and his lawyer said that their aim was “to promote the true Kewpie.” 

In response, Q.P.’s spokesman Masafumi Taga said the company had the legal right to the Kewpie figure, citing a then-73-year old trademark granted in Japan.

“All Kewpies are not the same. There are many Kewpies,” Taga said. “Kewpies are in the public domain.” 

The courts agreed, and the little baby-face mascot still graces the company’s tube bottle with its signature red cap — and just as the Kewpie figurines were once internationally ubiquitous, Kewpie mayonnaise has become a global sensation. In 2020, Kewpie reported annual consolidated net sales of 531,103 million yen (or just more than $5 billion). 

According to Katsumura, it’s still very much a staple in Japanese cuisine. Kewpie-themed cafés occasionally pop up across the country, and in Tokyo, visitors can spend the day at MayoTerrace, a museum dedicated to the condiment. 

“It’s pretty prevalent all across the board,” she said. “It’s notoriously used for the egg salad sandwiches that you find in convenience stores everywhere in Japan. It’s also a topping for okonomiyaki, the Japanese pancakes, and it’s a topping for takoyaki, which are those little octopus balls that are common in Osaka. So it’s a pretty versatile product.” 

But over the last decade, Kewpie has found a bunch of fans stateside. 

It’s become a darling of food professionals. As Food & Wine reported in 2015, Chef Dino Tsaknis of Chicago’s Primehouse has sung Kewpie’s praises, while Jason Halverson of San Francisco’s Stones Throw has said that “Kewpie Mayonnaise is like mayo on crack.” Halverson uses it in everything from coleslaws to sandwiches and sauces, he said.

And it’s well-loved by food-lovers who just want a yolkier, more savory mayonnaise. As a result, floating around on the internet right now are how-tos for Kewpie Halloween costumes, Kewpie-themed stud earrings for sale on Etsy, and posts from people lusting after elusive articles of clothing from the Uniqlo/Kewpie collaboration

How should I use Kewpie mayo at home? 

As Katsumura said, Kewpie is pretty versatile. It can go anywhere you put regular mayonnaise, but one of my favorite ways to utilize it at home is in Japanese-style egg salad sandwiches. Katsumura also does this at Yugen. 

It’s a really simple dish, made better by better-than-basic ingredients: spongy Japanese milk bread, organic eggs (if you can find them), and of course, Kewpie mayo. It’s not necessarily traditional, but I occasionally like to add whatever finely chopped herbs I have on hand — flat-leaf parsley, chives, scallions — to the mix. Dill is always a good choice. 

***

Recipe: Japanese-Style Egg Salad Sandwich
1 sandwich 

  • 2 slices of shokupan, or milk bread, with the crusts removed
  • 2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled
  • 2 tablespoons of Kewpie mayo 
  • 1 tablespoon of minced herbs — like dill, scallions, parsley or chives (optional)
  • Salt and white pepper to taste

1. Place the hard-boiled eggs and Kewpie mayo into a food processor. Pulse until combined; the mixture should still have some texture, but it should be closer to a paste. Season with salt and pepper and herbs, if desired. 

2. Spread the egg salad on the bread, and enjoy it. 

***

Brand recommendations, plus how to make it at home

Obviously, if you want to eat Kewpie mayo . . . you should buy Kewpie mayo. However, there are several other really delicious Japanese mayos on the market that you can use to pep up home cooking. 

  • Hotaru Foods Yuzu Mayo — In the states, yuzu is hard to get your hands on because the knobby East Asian citrus is grown overseas and not imported (though there is a small amount being grown in California). But the flavor is fantastic; it’s tarter than a lemon, with a honeyed rind. This product cuts the inherent egginess of mayo with a welcome acid hit from yuzu. 
  • Shirakiku Wasabi Flavored Mayonnaise — This spicy play on basic mayo is an ideal addition to rice bowls, sushi and as a way to give a little heat to your go-to work-from-home sandwich. 

You can also make homemade Japanese-style mayo at home. I played with a few versions before settling on this ratio. (But I’ve got to be honest: I typically just reach for the Kewpie sitting in my refrigerator.)

***

Recipe: At-Home Japanese Mayo
Makes about 1 cup 

  • 2 egg yolks, room temperature
  • 3/4 cup neutral oil
  • 1 teaspoon Kosher salt
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons rice vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 1/4 tablespoon MSG powder, dashi powder or umami powder

1. In a food processor, or a large bowl using an immersion blender, combine the egg yolk and mustard and process for 20 seconds.

2. Slowly drizzle about 1/4 cup of oil into the mixture while continuously blending. The mixture should begin to thicken and emulsify. 

3. Add the salt, sugar and MSG/dashi/umami powder, then continue to blend the mayo, slowly drizzling another 1/4 cup of oil into the mixture. 

4. Finally, add the rice vinegar, and drizzle the remaining oil to the mayo, all while blending continuously. 

5. Test the mayo, and adjust the salt to your liking. The mayo can be stored in the fridge in an airtight container for up to one week. 

From Biden to “Bridgerton,” how our stuttering heroes bring a restoration of democracy

Who knew that in 2021 spoken word poetry would be embraced by millions for its significance as a nation-building anthem from the lectern at Joseph Biden’s 46th presidential inauguration? In her poem “The Hill We Climb,” astounding Amanda Gorman‘s cry to “rebuild, reconcile, and recover” with “every breath from my bronze-pounded chest” sounded in striking resonance with the man in whose name she addressed her nation, whose speech has also been the occasion for celebrations of recovery. Biden’s well-publicized efforts to speak with and overcome a stutter have operated as an extended metaphor for the restoration of democracy that has now become his task in the aftermath of the political abuses under Donald Trump. 

Even Gorman’s evocative hand gestures silently pointed towards the body movements (blinking and head-nodding) that many have noticed are associated with Biden’s speech, what Eric S. Jackson explains are “accessory or compensatory behaviour . . .  that sometimes helps or sometimes seems to jolt us out of a moment of stuttering.” Gorman’s own experience with a speech impediment, a common pronunciation difficulty known as rhotacism, only further echoes this emergent theme. Gorman’s efforts to overcome her impediment by reciting “Aaron Burr, sir,” from Lin-Manuel Miranda’s hit play “Hamilton” and Biden’s attempts to overcome his by reciting lines of poetry by William Butler Yeats jointly brought poetry into surprising focus as the vehicle of the democratic project of overcoming. 

Even the use of metaphor as the glue binding speech impediments to the work of democracy brings language and speech to the forefront of US federal politics as the political occupation of the nation. The Atlantic’s John Hendrickson points out that Biden’s frequent references to how he “overcame his speech problem” are an uplifting refrain for the national project he has been given on the heels of the violent insurrection at the U.S. Capitol that threatened the nation’s democracy at its core. Democracy, with its emphasis on freedom of speech and expression, could hardly have been spoken up for better than with the example of two restored speakers overcoming vocal impediments to freely address an impeded country. 

So perhaps truth would be exactly as strange as fiction when another salute to 19th-century speech quickly became the most popular Netflix series of all time. “Bridgerton,” Chris Van Dusen’s hit Regency romance from the media empire of Shonda Rhimes, is narrated by the the pseudonymous Lady Whistledown (Julie Andrews), the sassy gossip columnist whose cheeky observations are regarded as a threat to the order of the aristocratic, multi-racial town in what some call a revolution in women-centred television and what others dismiss as a bad Austen knock-off. Besides its comparatively convention-laden and puerile storytelling, the relation to Jane Austen’s domestic fiction is drawn by the show itself with its first narrated lines, an altered rendition of the opening sentence of “Pride and Prejudice.” 

But beyond the swooning and bodice-ripping, the show’s intertextual theme of the force of galvanizing speech finds its mark in the childhood stutter of the rakish Simon Bassett, the Duke of Hastings (Regé-Jean Page). The story of his struggle to speak under the neglect and verbal abuse of his domineering father, and his overcoming the impediment with the help of a supportive aunt to produce the fluent, confident voice that so dizzies the young Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor), reproduces well-worn psychopathological theories about the causes of stuttering.

In Simon we see the familiar narrative of the preternaturally shy, sexually inhibited stutterer, made as such in the crucible of bad parenting and who through gritty self-confidence and proper love becomes the sexually mature virtuoso. Only Simon has taken these prescriptions too far, for his oedipal inhibitions have transformed into the oversexed detachment of a slippery rake who refuses to father a child. Only with Daphne’s restorative, heterosexual love can he overcome his overcorrection and become a fully functioning reproductive adult and produce an heir of Hastings for the fluency of his dukedom.  

The correspondence between speech impediment, sexual suspension, and nation-building is a trope we saw in the popular 2010 film “The King’s Speech,” where a young King George VI (Colin Firth), aka Bertie, works with the speech therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush) to treat his stutter. During a therapy session the two men speak of the prince’s childhood while he regression-plays with a model airplane belonging to Lionel’s young patient. Lionel asks him if he and his brother David “chase[d] the same girls.” “David was always very helpful in arranging the introductions,” he admits. Bertie has come to Lionel on this day shortly after his father’s death and ostensibly because of “my brother” (who will briefly serve as the King of England). In this oedipal moment, as his father passes and his brother ascends, the future king confesses his pain – from the nanny who withheld love to the brother everyone adored. With Lionel’s help and the aid of early prosthetic technologies for producing what is now known as delayed auditory feedback, Bertie will overcome much of the evidence of his impediment in his public speeches to do the work of nation-building and unite the United Kingdom in its renewed postwar era around the sign of its increasingly fragile monarchical democracy. 

For “Bridgerton”‘s Simon as well, the continuity of a racially united feudal stronghold is embodied by the Duke’s oedipally suspended heart. He is one of several Black aristocrats who make “Bridgerton”‘s reimagining of the genre so unique. As his aunt the Lady Danbury (Adjoa Andoh) explains, their own family’s inclusion in the aristocracy and indeed the royalty became a reality with a similar dose of restorative love. “We were two separate societies divided by color until a king fell in love with one of us,” she says. “Love, your grace, conquers all.” Lady Danbury’s promise to the young Simon to “help you overcome this stammer of yours” is the first expression of this “love” that conquers even racism, nations, and stammers. 

Similarly, 2020 saw a transformation of the Black Lives Matter movement, when in response to George Floyd’s last words, “I can’t breathe” – themselves an echo of Eric Garner’s last words under the knee of anti-Black police violence – Black voices were heard worldwide in a sea change of protest in support of the basic right to life and liberty: to breathe and with it, speech. We heard the vibrations of these horrendous thefts of breath in Gorman’s own “breath from my bronze-pounded chest.” Simon’s symbolic triumph over the speech-impeding abuses of his Trumpian father pre-echo Gorman’s testament that “love becomes our legacy” when through the constancy and adoration of Daphne he is able to over-come inside of her and create a son to carry on his own legacy. 

This intersection of speech therapy, nation-building, and Blackness has a long history in both the United Kingdom and the United States where correcting children’s speech has been part of a larger project of racial and class assimilation. In the 20th century, reciting poetry and the formation of “speaking choirs” were employed to erode traditionally Black speech patterns as well as those associated with regional and lower-class dialects. Verse or speaking choirs were widely embraced as a progressive reform designed to  “assist the disadvantaged in overcoming the perceived liabilities of their backgrounds,” as Joan Shelley Rubin explains in “A Modern Mosaic: Art and Modernism in the United States.” 

Patterns of speech associated with the “best-educated” class of a region were introduced via choral speaking (a form of auditory feedback related to Lionel’s early prosthetics) to reverse the influence of race and class on speech. In the same text, British-educated Wellesley College speech faculty member Cecile de Banke decries nasality in American speech as a “nation-wide handicap . . .  a mark of boorishness [and] lack of culture.” In this tradition, poetry recitation has its use in bringing about a new sound of Americanization that “yoked all the poetry [being read] . . . to a genteel definition of culture as refinement.” 

As we breathe new breath into democracy through poetry, representation, and marginalized voices, let us embrace renewed metaphors as well, ones divested of the damaging and ableist expectation to speak well by overcoming the intricacies of our individual voices. Hear the United States’ stutterer-in-chief lead a new defense of truly democratic principles through stops and starts, pauses and blinks and head nods, as a new language for a new freedom. Poetry, with its line breaks, enjambment, repetitions, and attention to language sounds is itself a kind of impediment to language that opens language up. Let us hear the brokenness of poetry, its rejection of conventional and acceptable language, to express political possibilities that can be lived and breathed not in the overcoming of difficulty but in the stops and starts of a precarious future.  

Britain’s sexist campaign to sell computers

In 1959, a computer operator embarked on an extremely hectic year, tasked with programming and testing several of the new electronic computers on which the British government was becoming increasingly reliant. In addition, this operator had to train two new hires with no computing experience for a critical long-term project in the government’s central computing installation. After being trained, the new hires quickly stepped into management roles, while their trainer, who was described as having “a good brain and a special flair” for computer work, was demoted to an assistantship below them.

This situation seems to make little sense until you learn that the trainer was a woman and the newly hired trainees were men. Yet this is not simply an example of unfair labor practices. It is part of a larger story about attempts to shape the newly developing digital economy.

In 1965, the chief accountant of Bibby and Baron Ltd., the largest paper bag manufacturer in England, wrote a series of articles on how office managers could wring the greatest efficiency from their workers at the lowest cost. “Equal pay for male and female workers is unlikely to be accepted by industrial concerns,” he wrote in one, urging employers to hire women, and “because female clerks can be obtained at a cheaper price than males, and may be just as good if given the same opportunities and training, it should be your policy to employ them wherever possible.”

This was at a moment when the clerical workforce of both the public and private sectors in Britain was heavily feminized and becoming even more so; because of this, most early computer operators were drawn from this pool of pseudoclerical labor. Nearly half of all young women leaving school went to work in offices by 1967, and of these, many went into computer operation and programming work. This was key to selling machines, because while wages and salaries in the aggregate had nearly tripled over the past 15 years, gross profits of companies had little more than doubled. Women continued to be seen as the best financial bet for all office work, including much computing work. But the catch was this devalued both computer work and the women doing it — eventually leading to industry-wide problems.

Computer companies quickly realized that highlighting workers’ gender could be a potent selling point. Powers-Samas, which combined with British Tabulating Machines in 1959 to create ICT, consolidated the trope of the “Powers Girl” early on, a figure who demonstrated their electromechanical machines in advertisements and brochures. When the machines became electronic, the Powers Girls remained and served much the same function as before. Dressed in ladies’ business attire, they showed how it might look to use a computer, humanizing opaque, intimidating, and potentially confusing machines. They also served a didactic function by showing the kind of worker that should operate Powers machines once a company purchased them. Finally, they showed purchasers that computers would not require a huge outlay for labor in addition to the hardware: “The conventional method is to hire women trained to operate any of the many machines available on the market,” wrote one author in a Powers Magazine article discussing the economics of purchasing a new electronic Powers machine.

Throughout this period, British computing companies’ advertisements were dominated by figures similar to the Powers Girls. Nearly all photographs used to sell and showcase computers in the early 1960s pictured a conservatively dressed, plain-looking female workforce standing or sitting while working at machines. As more machines became electronic, however, subtle changes in advertising style crept in. In earlier ads, Powers Girls smiled and engaged the viewer. By the late 1950s and early 1960s, often they only presented their backs to the viewer.

* * *

As the 1960s wore on, images of women interacting with machines became less literal and, in the process, more freighted with additional meaning. Instead of focusing on a relatively plain-looking feminized workforce, whose presence was simultaneously meant to stand in for low-cost labor and to recede into the background as the viewer considered the computing system, women started to become a subject of the advertising themselves. In earlier advertisements, women were often faceless accessories to the machine, but this trope began to lose favor as the 60s progressed.

In many later images, the formula is reversed: The machines disappear while the woman remains, this time facing the viewer. At a certain point, advertising imagery began to focus more on the fact that managers were buying a system for managing and maximizing labor rather than just a machine. Although this had been implicit in earlier advertisements, in the later 60s it became explicit. Women pictured in the ads retained their importance as a shorthand representation of workers who conveyed all the benefits, and few of the downsides, of modern office labor, but now that message became even more critical to the sales pitch. Women’s labor — by nature low-paid and temporary — was itself was being marketed as a key part of computerization.

The advertisements in ICL News and Office Methods and Machine Magazine portray workers as nearly superhuman when combined with their trusty computers, which barely appear in the ads at all. In the case of ICL’s BARIC ad, a “girl operator” interacts with computer bureau services through her office terminal link. “The implications are obvious to every businessman,” says the ad copy. Managers could gain all the benefits of a powerful mainframe with none of the hardware costs and little labor overhead. In another advertisement for a different type of technology, from the smaller company Business Mechanisation Limited, the technique is similar. Selling a minicomputer instead, the advertisement again focuses on the operator. With the help of her small office computer named SUSIE — short for Stock Updating and Sales Invoicing Electronically — the lone “girl operator” fulfilled functions like payroll, invoicing, stock control, and accounting which previously would have required a larger staff. Women’s labor was no longer simply the best fit for the system, it was a necessary element in order to get the benefits of cost and control computers promised.

In addition, although previous advertisements used women to showcase machines, there had been little sexual subtext; women in earlier advertisements were shown less as “pretty faces” than as working hands. In the late 60s, computer marketing added sexuality to the pitch by differentiating one operator from the masses and foregrounding her, even to the exclusion of the machine. Using sex appeal strengthened the shift already underway in advertising from focusing on machines and workers to focusing primarily on workers. It was also nothing new in the sense that men’s ideas about women’s sexuality had been used to structure jobs in computing for decades. After all, compulsory heterosexuality’s effect on women’s working lives was the main reason women had ended up in low-level machine work in the first place.

The primary purpose of these ads, however, was to assure managers that they could get away with using generic office staff when buying a computer. The ads asserted that operators did not require special training or expertise. The SUSIE computer “is operated by a typist — not highly paid programmers and controllers,” says the ad copy. Even though it states that the computer “is programmed in plain language from tape or by the typist,” the operator remains just a typist, not a “highly paid programmer.” Yet the fact that the SUSIE computer came with a 130-page programming manual gives some indication of how inaccurate it was to refer to the operator as a typist. Several of the other computers produced by the group of companies known as Business Mechanisation Limited, later Business Computers Limited, had women’s names that alluded to the computer’s functions. In addition to SUSIE, there was BETSIE (a betting and bookmaking computer) and SADIE (which stood for Sterling and Decimal Invoicing Electronically). Women’s labor had become so closely allied with computers that some machines actually took on their identities.

Another selling technique evolved simultaneously over the course of the 1960s. Some companies, including ICT (later International Computers Limited, or ICL), employed all-women computer demonstration teams who worked on-site at the company and at trade shows operating the demonstration machines for potential customers. After purchase, these same workers would often write programs for the customers to help set up the new computers. These teams ensured that business consumers saw computers as easy to staff and not overly complex to run.

The young women presented a vision of effortless efficiency and conveyed none of the gravitas or commitment to training and need to offer careers that young men as staff might have conveyed. For similar reasons women operators and programmers at IBM’s world headquarters on Madison Avenue in New York City were told to work on the computers in the window, in view of the sidewalk, to make the machines look “easy to use.”

By the late 1980s, working with computers had acquired a distinctly masculine image within British society. So much so that, as influential labor researcher Cynthia Cockburn noted, “for a woman to aspire to technical competence is, in a very real sense, to transgress the rules of gender.” Today, despite decades of equal pay legislation and significant discussion of educational strategies designed to change this situation on both sides of the Atlantic, perceptions of women as less technically competent persist within Anglo-American culture, business, and higher education. Yet this image of incompetence is a recent historical construction. It is not rooted in some sort of natural evolution of the field, nor is it a reflection of women’s demonstrated skills, aptitudes, and interests.

In 1992 Teresa Rees, a University of Wales researcher, produced a report for the Commission of the European Communities on the domestic “brain drain” in high technology. The subject was women’s underrepresentation in jobs created by new digital information technologies, especially in positions of power and responsibility. In the report, she attempted to explain and offer solutions for the problem of skill shortages in information technology by investigating the underutilization of women. She reported that culturally constructed roles for women and men in Britain, and European society more broadly, fed a cycle of perpetual skill shortage and led to a lack of acknowledgment of women’s technical skills and achievements.

In 1958, British Tabulating Machines — the same company that built the codebreaking Bombes for the government during World War II — sent a computer operator named Andrina Wood around the world to “demonstrate” BTM’s new general-purpose electronic computers. “During her stay in Australia she is demonstrating the [electronic] Hec machine in operation at two exhibitions and is supervising training of local staff,” reported BTM’s employee magazine. This assignment made Wood a vector of international technological transfer and an early electronic computer expert, yet she would not have been described as such.

Perhaps most important to modern eyes is the note added almost as an afterthought to the article on Wood: “The programmes for the work being demonstrated were written entirely by Miss Wood before her departure.” Women computer operators, though not given the title, were usually programmers as well. Kept from assuming the title of programmer or the mantle of expert by a variety of cultural and professional constraints, these operators nonetheless did more than simply operate. That they remain unknown is an effect of how the field was intentionally professionalized out of their reach, rather than an indictment of their expertise or potential.

In recent years, historical studies of women in computing have begun to proliferate. As have the evident harms of the massive computerized infrastructures that shape business, social life, and even politics in the 21stcentury. The cleaving out of certain workers and certain narratives has allowed us to see the history of computing as a story of unbroken successes for a long time, leaving us ill-prepared to confront the inherent flaws in our computing systems and the socio-economic systems that they take for granted.

The story of British women in computing is one of labor devaluation and sexism that ultimately led to the downfall of a strong national computing industry, and was detrimental to a nation’s overall fortunes. Unfortunately, this is not a peculiarly British story: All through the history of computing we see elisions that cleave out failure and discrimination in order to assure us that we are living in the best of all possible high-tech worlds where meritocracy guides technological progress. As we increasingly crash into the realization that we are not, and have never been, living in the best of all possible high-tech worlds, these stories of failure in computing, and of marginalized groups’ frustrated attempts to “make it” and make positive change in high tech, are ever more important to understanding technology’s role in our societies’ futures.

* * *

Mar Hicks is a historian of technology, gender and modern Europe, notable for work on the history of women in computing. Hicks is a professor at the Illinois Institute of Technology and the author of “Programmed Inequality: How Britain Discarded Women Technologists and Lost Its Edge in Computing.” Hicks has a new co-edited volume out in March called “Your Computer is on Fire.”

“It’s time to move on from Donald Trump”: Member of a new Republicans promises to ditch the loser

Appearing on MSNBC early Sunday morning, a former member of Donald Trump’s administration teased the announcement of a newly formed group of Republicans and ex-Republicans whose goal is to make sure that the ex-president will never be a viable candidate for office again.

Speaking with hosts Kendis Gibson and Lindsey Reiser, former Homeland Security official Miles Taylor noted the current CPAC conference in Florida where the president is expected to get hero’s welcome from the far-right attendees and said it is important that traditional Republicans push back on Trump’s re-entry into the public square after losing re-election in November.

“I want to give you a number: 50 percent,” Taylor began. “Donald Trump can’t get to 50 percent. We just saw this in the most recent election, he cannot win elections. We’ve got to be able to, in the Republican Party, have someone who is a standard-bearer that can get us over 50 percent to win elections. He can’t, he lost in spectacular fashion in this election and that’s why I think it’s entirely inappropriate for us to continue to put him forward as the leader of this party. it’s a mistake that’s going the cause the GOP to lose elections in the future and it’s time to move on from Donald Trump.”

Pressed on his future plans to oppose Trump, Taylor first said, “There are a lot of people in the party ready to move beyond Donald Trump. In fact, most of us realize he is much better at golfing than governing which is really saying a lot if you know anything about Donald Trump’s golf game,” before adding, “Donald Trump lost, not because more Democrats came out. Donald Trump lost because his own voters defected from him.”

“I’m happy to share with you today a little bit of a tease,” he added. ” I can’t give you all the information, but we’re about to make an announcement in the very near future that’s going to make Donald Trump have the worst heartburn he’s had in the post-presidency. We’re going to be channeling this movement to challenge him to create an insurgency within and without the GOP to drive forward towards a better center-right political movement than Donald Trump can put together. It’s something he’s going to have to contend with.”

Pressed for more details he added, “You’re aware of the fact that we’ve been having conversations with very prominent people in the GOP and ex-Republicans about where we go beyond Trump, how do we move beyond Trump. You’re going to hear from us in the month of March about what’s coming next.”

“What’s coming next is going to make Donald Trump fear for his ability to continue to be a standard-bearer of this party,” he continued. “We are going to channel this movement, rally people together in the center, bring the Republican Party back from crazy to rational as best we can, and Trump should be shaking in his boots.”

Watch below:

China eradicated COVID-19 within months. Why won’t America learn from them?

“There is ample reason to believe that China really has done much better at containing the spread of the virus than other major economies.”

Those were the words of Yanzhong Huang, a Senior Fellow for Global Health at the Council on Foreign Relations, in a January New York Times editorial. Even taking into account that there are valid reasons to be skeptical of Chinese government statistics, he argued that China’s strategy for fighting the virus worked exceedingly well. You can see this in, say, photos of a massive music festival in Wuhan from August 2020, where partiers are packed, maskless, side-by-side in a crowd of thousands.

Or you can see it in statistics: The US has over 28.2 million coronavirus cases as of this week. China has less than 101,000. Indeed, the original epicenter of the coronavirus outbreak had all but eradicated the novel coronavirus within months, while Western countries were still struggling. 

The science agrees. Studies in JAMA Network Open and Nature Medicine have confirmed, for instance, that Chinese cities had comparatively lower levels of infection than other large cities throughout the world based on widespread antibody tests performed between March and May. (As Nature Medicine put it, “the seropositivity in Wuhan varied between 3.2% and 3.8% in different subcohorts. Seroposivity progressively decreased in other cities as the distance to the epicenter increased.”)

China, which was able to quickly develop a vaccine and is already sharing its vaccines with countries like Brazil, Chile, Peru, Indonesia, the United Arab Emirates and Turkey, has done so well that you would think that any nation would see this as a model for how to beat a pandemic. Yet the United States seems completely disinterested in learning any lessons from the country in which the pandemic originated. President Joe Biden may not vilify China over the COVID-19 pandemic to the same extent as his predecessor, Donald Trump, but he is certainly not above posturing against the country.

Although Biden has reentered the World Health Organization (WHO), which Trump left while claiming it was under China’s control, administration spokespeople have made a point of saying they do not entirely trust the WHO’s report on the pandemic’s origin. White House national security adviser Jake Sullivan, for instance, told reporters earlier this month that “we have deep concerns about the way in which the early findings of the COVID-19 investigation were communicated and questions about the process used to reach them,” later adding that “it is imperative that this report be independent, with expert findings free from intervention or alteration by the Chinese government.”

Perhaps the Biden administration is justified in being suspicious of the Chinese government, and he alleges that the country withheld data about the earliest stages of the outbreak  — a charge that China denies. (Notably, multiple U.S. governors, including New York’s Andrew Cuomo, covered up deaths in their states.) Still, there is a very fine line between being skeptical of an undeniably repressive government and depicting China overall as a villain. The latter impulse is dangerous for two reasons: It causes us to overlook the many things that China has done right in handling this crisis and it risks playing into Sinophobia, or prejudice against people of Chinese descent.

“I think we have to be very nuanced about our judgments of China,” Dr. Richard Horton, editor-in-chief of the prestigious medical journal “The Lancet,” told Salon in an interview earlier this month. “I worked very closely with a group of Chinese scientists and doctors who were on the frontline at the outbreak in Wuhan last year, and I can honestly say that the world owes them a debt of gratitude for the way they fought this outbreak when it first took place.” He mentioned how frontline scientists sequenced the virus’ genome and posted it publicly in January, wrote up the initial case descriptions, emphasized the transmissibility of the virus and alerted the world that there was a risk of a global pandemic.

“This work was done in China,” Horton explained. “So when I see and hear Western political leaders vilifying China in the way that they do, I think that there is a dimension of Sinophobia, even racism, against the Chinese.” He added that this does not mean “that the Chinese government doesn’t have some very important questions to answer about the very early stages of what took place in Wuhan and how that information was handled by the local authorities there, how it was transmitted to the government in Beijing and how they evaluated that evidence.”

Meanwhile, there were plenty of Chinese scientists who American leaders could have contacted for help and often did not do so, Horton says: “George Gao, director of the Chinese CDC, or Chen Wang, President of the Chinese Academy of Medical Sciences, or the Ministry of Health’s Ma Xiaowei, or the former minister of health who has a very well-known international laboratory in Shanghei, Chen Zhu.” 

And America should have not only contacted them, but paid attention more generally to China’s response to the pandemic.

“I think China has done certainly a better job than the United States in terms of reigning in the virus,” Huang told Salon. “If you look at the number of cases — if we accept the Chinese data — since the beginning of mid-February, we have seen a dramatic drop in the number of cases, meaning infections and deaths. And then certainly in early April, some time like that, then when China lifted the the lockdown in Wuhan, the number of cases has been sustained at a very low level.”

Huang’s views were echoed by Horton.

“If you actually look to East Asian countries, we can see now that countries such as China, Taiwan, Singapore, to an extent Vietnam, certainly New Zealand and even laterally Australia, were about to mount decisive responses and understand that the only way to address this virus through a strategy of what one might call ‘zero COVID,'” Horton noted. This strategy, Horton explained, means suppressing the virus to such an extent that you do not have community transmission.

Horton’s observation is backed up by multiple reports on China’s response. After an initial slow reaction, Chinese officials responded aggressively once the outbreak began to overtake their country, not by hoping a vaccine or magic cure would become available but by proactively preventing transmission and controlling individuals and areas that were infected. This included widespread testing so they could detect people infected with the virus as early as possible; isolating individuals with mild to moderate symptoms by putting them under strict quarantine; finding out who infected individuals had contacted to determine if they had spread the infection and treating the infected — from mild to severe cases — in quickly constructed medical facilities. The government also required residents of infected areas to wear masks, stay at home and practice social distancing; encouraged people to maintain good personal hygiene; and performed symptom surveys to keep tabs on whether the infection was spreading.

China first did these things in Wuhan, the city where the virus broke out, but soon spread these policies to everywhere that the virus popped up: Beijing, Shanghai and so on. They rapidly set up field hospitals, imposed mandatory and immediate lockdowns, mass tested the population and maintained quarantines when necessary.

Because the Chinese government is not the most reliable source of data, it is difficult to precisely quantify how well these policies have worked. Still, it is undeniable that life in many Chinese cities has more or less returned to a pre-pandemic normal since last summer, albeit with more travel restrictions. As Gregory Poland, director of the Vaccine Research Group at the Mayo Clinic, told The Lancet, “They moved very quickly to stop transmission. Other countries, even though they had much longer to prepare for the arrival of the virus, delayed their response and that meant they lost control.” China has also made a point of sharing some of its vaccines with poorer countries, an act known as vaccine diplomacy that the government almost certainly hopes will spread good will.

Ali Mokdad, a professor of global health at the University of Washington and a former official with the international health program at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, made a similar observation to NBC News. “They have done an amazing job of controlling the virus,” Mokdad said.

Americans’ inability to take lessons from China’s successes in combatting the virus speaks to a deep Sinophobia embedded in American history — one that can be traced back for generations. 

That Sinophobia came out with a vengeance when the pandemic first reached the United States, as many Americans ignorantly blamed Asian people for the virus. Almost 2,600 incidents of anti-Asian violence were reported in the United States from March through the beginning of August 2020. Thirty-one percent of Asian Americans reported being targeted by racist language and 26 percent said they feared being threatened or assaulted, higher numbers than for any other racial group. The Congressional Asian Pacific American Caucus found that anti-Asian tweets and conspiracies rose by 85% as of October.

These sentiments were no doubt inflamed by people like Donald Trump, who as president repeatedly referred to COVID-19 as the “Chinese virus,” as did House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy. 

“The comments made by President Trump intensifies the xenophobia and racism that’s become rampant against Asians and Asian Americans globally,” Rosalind Chou, a sociology professor at Georgia State University, told Salon in March. “He’s fueling fears against Chinese, specifically. However, people of Asian ancestry across the globe may face collateral damage. These statements are dangerous and erroneously assign blame to people who are as susceptible to the disease as anyone else worldwide.”

Chou’s views were echoed by Margaret Fung, executive director of Asian American Legal Defense and Education Fund, who told Salon at the time that “calling COVID-19 a ‘Chinese virus’ leads to mistaken beliefs that Asian people are more likely to be infected by the coronavirus and should be avoided or quarantined. The virus is not linked to race or ethnicity, but the pandemic has led to a sharp rise in racism and hate violence against Asians and Asian Americans.”

This Sinophobia long precedes the COVID-19 era. Racism against Chinese Americans flared up in the 19th century when Chinese immigrants were hired to do jobs like building the transcontinental railroad, with white Americans claiming that Chinese Americans were taking their jobs and ignoring how the Chinese Americans were horribly exploited by their employers. Overt discrimination was common. It is not unprecedented to believe that there is a structural legacy to the way 

For now, life in the world’s most populous country is mostly back to normal: restaurants are open in most cities, and public transit active. Meanwhile, the Western World still struggles to contain the virus that China dealt with months ago. Yet China’s government is not gloating about this — rather, it has repeatedly invited the rest of the world to share in their knowledge and resources. America hasn’t heeded the call.

Kaity Assaf and Manuela Lopez Restrepo contributed research for this article.

How to make cinnamon rolls that stay pillowy-soft for days

Every week in Genius Recipes — often with your help! — Food52 Founding Editor and lifelong Genius-hunter Kristen Miglore is unearthing recipes that will change the way you cook.

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In one of my most vivid memories, I’m watching my parents make cinnamon rolls from scratch on Christmas morning. Flour and mess are everywhere; dough is coiled directly on the counter. The house smells like the siren song of Cinnabon at the airport. I want our home to feel like this every day! And it happened exactly once.

Because, inevitably, cinnamon rolls from scratch are a commitment. There’s usually (but not always) yeasted dough to rise twice, filling and icing to measure and whisk, rolls to swirl and slice and bake.

But most problematic of all: The joy is fleeting. Most rolls are at their best still-warm and molten. Do a little math, carry the one, and — in order to have breakfast at breakfast time — you’re waking up just a few hours after you went to bed. Maybe that part’s just me, but it’s no wonder my parents didn’t make this an annual tradition.

The team at King Arthur Baking Company knows this, of course. They also know, with the pandemic still keeping much of the world at home, that we could really use a cinnamon roll, but won’t be in a position to polish off a whole pan at once any time soon.

So the King Arthur team’s mission, with their 2021 Recipe of the Year, was to change all this, and to bring from-scratch cinnamon rolls into more homes, more often. The recipe they developed is so pillowy-soft, the rolls will taste just as good for lazy Sunday brunch as they do on groggy weekday mornings (and midnight snacks) thereafter, with some bakers even reporting pillow-softness a week later. This also means you can make the entire recipe ahead the night before, then just warm and frost as you go in the morning. Cancel that 6:30 a.m. alarm.

But how? And will coffee shops everywhere stop giving away their pastries at the end of the day when they learn about this recipe? The King Arthur baking team relied on the moisture-retaining powers of tangzhong, a technique you may have seen used in Japanese milk breads and other downy baked goods to achieve lasting moisture and softness (1).

In tangzhong — a technique with origins in Japanese yukone (or yudane), widely popularized by the Taiwanese cookbook author Yvonne Chen in her book 65 Degrees C — simply pre-cooking a portion of the recipe’s flour with water before mixing with the rest of the ingredients kick-starts the gelatinization of the flour’s starches. This makes them better able to hold liquid — up to twice as much as if you were mixing the flour and water together at room temperature or lukewarm. The same amount of hydration in a recipe without a tangzhong step would be a runny, un-kneadable mess.

And best of all, that well-trapped moisture sticks around long after the rolls are baked. Hence the plush, gooey cinnamon rolls for days on end, an experience so rewarding, it most certainly won’t be the last time you do it.

Recipe: Perfectly Pillowy Cinnamon Rolls From King Arthur Baking Company

Prep time: 2 hours 30 minutes
Cook time: 18 minutes
Makes: 8 large rolls

Ingredients

Tangzhong:

  • 1/2 cup (113g) whole milk
  • 3 tablespoons (23g) bread flour (preferably King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour)

Dough:

  • 2/3 cup (151g) whole milk, cold
  • 2 1/2 cups (300g) bread flour (preferably King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour)
  • 1 teaspoon (6g) salt
  • 2 tablespoons (25g) granulated sugar
  • 2 teaspoons instant yeast
  • 4 tablespoons (57g) unsalted butter, softened

Filling:

  • 1 tablespoon (14g) butter, melted
  • 1/2 cup (107g) light brown sugar, packed
  • 2 tablespoons (15g) bread flour (such as King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour)
  • 3 to 4 teaspoons (8g to 10g) cinnamon (see note)
  • 1/16 teaspoon (pinch) salt

Icing:

  • 3 tablespoons (42g) butter, melted, divided
  • 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/16 teaspoon (pinch) salt
  • 1 1/2 cups (170g) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
  • 1 to 2 tablespoons (14g to 28g) milk, cream, or buttermilk; enough to thin to desired consistency

Directions

  1. To make the tangzhong: Combine both the ingredients in a small saucepan, and whisk until no lumps remain.
  2. Place the saucepan over medium heat and cook the mixture, stirring regularly, until thickened, paste-like, and the spoon or spatula leaves lines on the bottom of the pan. This should take 1 to 3 minutes, depending on the strength of your burner.
  3. Remove from the heat and transfer to a large mixing bowl, the bowl of a stand mixer, or the bucket of a bread machine (whatever you plan to knead the dough in).
  4. To make the dough: Add the ingredients to the mixing bowl in the order listed; the heat from the tangzhong will help to warm the cold milk.
  5. Mix — by hand, on low speed of a stand mixer with the dough hook attachment, or in a bread machine set to the dough cycle — to bring the dough together. Next, knead the dough until it’s smooth, elastic, and tacky. This will take up to 15 minutes by hand, 10 to 12 minutes on medium-low speed of a mixer, or the length of the dough cycle in a bread machine.
  6. Shape the dough into a ball, place it in a bowl, and cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a reusable cover.
  7. Let the dough rise until puffy but not necessarily doubled in bulk, about 60 to 90 minutes (depending on the warmth of your kitchen).
  8. To make the filling: While the dough is rising, put the melted butter into a medium bowl and add the remaining ingredients, stirring until the mixture is the texture of damp sand. Set aside.
  9. Lightly grease a baking sheet, or line it with parchment paper. 
  10. To assemble the rolls: Transfer the dough to a lightly greased work surface and press it into a 10×12-inch rectangle that’s about ½-inch thick. For evenly shaped rolls, try to pat the dough into an actual rectangle (with corners), rather than an oval. 
  11. Sprinkle the filling over the dough, covering all but a 1/2-inch strip along one long side. 
  12. Starting with the filling-covered long side, roll the dough into a log.
  13. Score the dough lightly into eight equal 1 1/2 to 2-inch pieces; this will make large, saucer-sized cinnamon rolls — their generous size is part of their charm. Cut the dough at the score marks. Dental floss will give you the cleanest cut: pull off a long piece of floss, loop it underneath the log at the score mark, and pull the ends in opposite directions to cut the dough. Repeat until you’ve cut all of the rolls. If you don’t have dental floss, a bench knife or sharp knife will work. 
  14. Place the rolls onto the prepared baking sheet, spacing them so there’s at least 2 inches between each one and they’re 2″ away from the edges of the pan; a 3-2-3 arrangement works well on a half-sheet pan. To prevent them from unraveling while they rise and bake, tuck the ends of the spirals underneath the rolls so that they’re held in place.
  15. Cover the rolls with lightly greased plastic wrap or a reusable cover and let them rise for 30 to 60 minutes (depending on the warmth of your kitchen). The rolls should be puffy and the dough shouldn’t bounce back immediately when gently pressed.
  16. About 20 minutes before you’re ready to bake, position a rack in the top third of the oven. (If you need to use two sheet pans, either keep one sheet in the fridge while the first bakes, or bake them on racks in the top and bottom thirds of the oven, rotating halfway through baking.) Preheat the oven to 375°F.
  17. Bake the rolls until they’re a light golden brown and a digital thermometer inserted into the center of one roll reads 190°F, for 14 to 18 minutes, or less if you’ve cut the rolls thinner than 1 1/2 to 2 inches. Bake for the lesser amount of time for extra-soft rolls, and the longer amount of time for rolls with a bit more color and slightly firmer texture.
  18. Remove the rolls from the oven, place the pan on a rack, and brush the hot rolls with 1 1/2 tablespoons (21g) of the melted butter. Let the rolls cool for 10 to 15 minutes before icing.
  19. To make the icing: Combine the remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons (21g) melted butter with the remaining icing ingredients in a medium bowl, mixing with a spatula until smooth. Milk makes a lovely frosting; using cream in place of milk creates an extra layer of richness, while substituting buttermilk adds subtle tang, a nice counterpoint to the icing’s overall sweetness.
  20. Ice the rolls and serve immediately. If you’re planning to serve the rolls later, wait to ice them until just before serving. Store icing at room temperature, tightly covered, until you’re ready to use it.
  21. Store completely cooled rolls, un-iced and well wrapped, for a couple of days at room temperature; or freeze for up to 1 month.

 

Talking to the boogaloo, part 2: Exclusive conversations with a would-be revolutionary

Salon’s informant within the boogaloo movement, whom we’re calling Sam for this article, frequently wanted to talk tactics, and often flexed military lingo in conversations. He felt his tactical revelations would be of particular value to the public, presumably to prevent or combat cells he believed were pursuing illegitimate methods. But we implore readers not to take Sam’s statements at face value. They serve here as a frame for a larger critique of the movement.

As for the tactical discussion, for a broader and more critical audience these observations and Sam’s prioritization of them illustrate the fixation on tactical details so prevalent among militia groups, where they serve as filler — papery ideology, window dressing, substitutes for the substance which so many white identity groups lack. (While the boogaloo profess an inclusive and agnostic stance on race, it is telling that the adherents are, almost to a person, white.)

“If the boog is intent on violence they aren’t stupid enough to wear Hawaiian shirts or even body armor,” Sam said. “A rifle and a van are sufficient, as demonstrated by Carrillo. [That would be Steven Carrillo, who is accused of killing a federal officer and a sheriff’s deputy in California last year. More on him later.] When engaged in illegal activity the movement wants to stay grey. Concealed pistols. Short barreled rifles. Blend into the population.”

The guns strapped across boogaloo chests at demonstrations, or “actions,” in Sam’s parlance, are a mix of threat and theater, he said: “They will claim they are carrying those rifles for media attention, and they are, but every one of those rifles and handguns are loaded and those boys are carrying extra magazines.”

This is not entirely true, as evidenced in the first moments of this video of a boogaloo rally in Atlanta, where one adherent expresses apparent surprise that another was carrying a weapon loaded with a single bullet.

Sam scoffed at the amateurism of many boogaloo cells, and boasted about the discipline of his small group of 12 — and himself.

“Smaller numbers mean less infighting and higher quality,” he said. “Some take whoever with minimal vetting. We vet people very carefully using commercial databases and current member vouching. If one member objects they are rejected. We look for people with specific skills. Communications, cybersecurity, weapons handling and medical are usually the top priorities.”

He described his cell’s principal recruitment targets, through an exploitative and manipulative lens: “Disaffected zoomers through memes. Veterans and [active-duty military] through rhetoric about liberty and tyranny. Videos and pictures of previous operations that were nonviolent.”

“Violent radicalization takes time,” he said.

In 2009, DHS and the FBI released a study that showed that right-wing extremism had surged after the election of Barack Obama, an event that radicalized white supremacists and offered an opportunity for groups to reach out with new propaganda campaigns. The report specifically listed “disgruntled military veterans” as key targets: “Right-wing extremists will attempt to recruit and radicalize returning veterans in order to exploit their skills and knowledge derived from military training and combat.”

The boog’s distant dream of starting an actual war appears to rely almost in its entirety on the possibility of triggering violence among other groups, not taking matters into its own hands, and can also be seen as a sort of theater. Sam said he thinks leftist radical groups are more easily exploited in this way: “In terms of willingness to act, antifa and BLM are tied. Any excuse to hit the streets. Right-wing militia is mostly useless unless directly threatened.”

His cell has a hard limit of 12 members, he said: “We’ve concluded that eight is golden and there’s always a few that can’t make it. Eight gives us a squad broken into two fire teams. Adaptable and easily dispersed.” They communicate mostly via encrypted messaging apps, but conduct their most sensitive conversations in person.

“Everyone here understands marksmanship, small unit tactics, trauma care, police responses to crowds and crowd violence and COIN [counterintelligence] tactics,” Sam said, again using holding himself up as a standout example. “We’re a bit more selective in who we recruit. Other movement factions and groups have differing levels of training. For instance the people [at a recent anti-ICE rally] in Atlanta were an absolute joke. A cursory glance at gear, age and fitness was enough to determine that. Beyond speeches and sign waving they had no discernible objective.”

He added: “If waving signs and talking solved problems, [Breonna] Taylor and [George] Floyd would have gotten justice.”

Police

Like many far-right extremist groups, the boogaloo harbor a virulent antipathy toward law enforcement.

Sam points out that the government already grants the right of force to that armed group: “Breonna Taylor. Floyd. Duncan Lemp. Garrett [Foster],” he said, referencing two unarmed Black people whose police shooting deaths sparked nationwide unrest last year, equating them falsely with two white members of his own movement. “Dozens and hundreds more murdered by an institution that can claim ‘they were scared’ and execute someone. How are they different from a death squad?”

It may come as a surprise given the widespread support police enjoy from white conservatives, but fringe-right militia groups generally despise police as part of an intrusive government, and have frequently been willing to kill them. 

From 2001 to 2016, white supremacists killed 34 police officers, compared to 10 killed by left-wing extremists — half of those 10 killed within minutes of each other by a Black military veteran in Dallas in 2016. But before Dallas (and the Baton Rouge shooting after that) white non-Hispanic men, who are slightly more than 30% of the U.S. population, were responsible for 70% of police killings that year. 

The police, Sam noted, are less restrained in use of force than the military in most active war zones, where the terms of combat are at least officially regulated by the Geneva Convention and rules of engagement, though those are sometimes broken. “And yet some 22-year-old with three or six months training is entrusted with the power of life and death domestically,” he said.

(Sam never answered questions about whether the boogaloo counted active law enforcement in its ranks.)

One of Sam’s more critical comments about the boogaloo referred to the movement’s “martyrdom complex.” Last year they found two martyrs, mentioned above: Garrett Foster and Duncan Lemp.

“Everyone wants to be the next Duncan Lemp,” Sam said.

Lemp, a white 21-year-old right-wing activist who affiliated himself with the Three Percenters and boogaloo, was shot dead in his suburban Maryland home during a “no-knock raid” on March 12, 2020, during which, according to police, he had “confronted” an officer. One day later, police in Louisville shot and killed unarmed 26-year-old medical technician Breonna Taylor, a Black woman, who had been asleep in her apartment and died in the hallway.

While the boogaloo professes its support for Black Lives Matter, their celebrated martyrs are generally white. Though Lemp and Taylor were killed one day apart under comparable circumstances, the white man inspired them, not the Black woman. Indeed, if the boogaloo were to achieve their improbable goal of destroying the government, they would also destroy institutional support systems that sustain many people in the marginalized communities they profess to support.

This reveals a stark ideological break between the boogaloo and leftists of almost any orientation, and it’s a big reason why many experts categorize the boogaloo as a far-right movement, whatever their ideological nuances: The boogaloo believe that the entire government apparatus is coercive and oppressive by nature; it cannot be redeemed or reformed, or trusted to deliver justice or help the vulnerable. But they have no plan for what comes next, suggesting the entire ideology is fugazi — fake.

Jared Holt of the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab told Salon that the vast share of the boogaloo’s left-positive messaging rings hollow. “In some recent public appearances, some organizers and followers of the boogaloo movement have sought to soften their image or build bridges with social justice groups. I believe that very few of those efforts are genuine,” he said. “Even though we need to take the boogaloo movement seriously, we shouldn’t take them literally.”

A number of boogaloo adherents tried to exploit the unrest surrounding the George Floyd protests as accelerating events. One member was arrested for firing a gun amid the first protests in Minneapolis, and three more were arrested on terrorism charges for planning attacks on Las Vegas police. Boogaloo member Steven Carrillo (mentioned by Sam above) allegedly murdered a federal security guard during the protests in Oakland, California, last May, and a few weeks later ambushed two sheriff’s deputies, killing one of them, in Santa Cruz County on the central California coast. He now faces first-degree murder charges.

Sam called Carrillo “a monster” who had shot “innocent people just doing their job,” but his specific critique was tactical, not ethical.

“Carrillo is hated because he was proactive,” Sam said, in typically indirect style. “If he had refused to disarm or disperse at a protest and a weapon was pointed at him and he subsequently was killed, he’d be a role model.”

Duncan Lemp, Sam said, is the genuine example of a boogaloo martyr, allegedly killed by cops over “a low-level weapons charge. … Now he is a rallying cry because he ‘refused to comply.'”

Asked whether the boogaloo had ever reached out to the Not Fucking Around Coalition, a heavily-armed paramilitary Black nationalist organization, Sam said they had: “They told us to go away, but with more expletives.”

History

An unrestrained police force also offers the boogaloo an opportunity to accelerate its longed-for revolutionary conflict, Sam said: “Right now it’s about provoking BLM, antifa and militias or Three Percenters into engaging in violence that will provoke disproportionate police response, which can be used to fuel further unrest.”

“Accelerationism,” as this strategic approach is often described, has its roots in Marxist revolutionary theory, but has in recent decades been adopted by white supremacist and other far-right groups in the United States as a tactic to raise the temperature and foment unrest and violence.

Many members of these groups reference the notorious novel “The Turner Diaries,” by William Pierce — a key inspiration for Timothy McVeigh, the 1994 Oklahoma City bomber — which seeks to illustrate the idea with an archetypal “responsible conservative.” Such a person, Pierce writes, doesn’t grasp that one of political terrorism’s key purposes is “to force the authorities to take reprisals and to become more repressive, thus alienating a portion of the population and generating sympathy for the terrorists. And the other purpose is to create unrest by destroying the population’s sense of security and their belief in the invincibility of the government.” 

Accelerationists, like the boogaloo, believe that American society is beyond repair, and the only way forward requires a full-on collapse. They therefore embrace any crisis — Sam pointed to the COVID pandemic, but examples abound — and cheer all forms of political violence as steps along that path. For traditional Marxist revolutionaries, there is at least a clear goal in mind: First a socialist state or “dictatorship of the proletariat,” and ultimately a utopian, stateless communist society. White supremacists want an apartheid state or an all-white civilization. 

What do the boogaloo want? No one really knows, including themselves. They appear to absolve themselves of both the responsibility for starting the coming war and the more difficult project of creating a better world.

“The longer version is that we believe violence is inevitable, that government will continue to expand and that current enforcement of existing laws is an existential threat,” Sam explained. “We believe that Dennis v. United States is null due to foreign election influencing. Most do not believe any election was stolen, but we do believe the state can no longer guarantee that an election was free and fair, thus nullifying that SCOTUS decision.” (At least one boogaloo adherent has been arrested in connection with the Jan. 6 insurrection at the U.S. Capitol.)

Let’s unpack that a little. Dennis v. United States, the 1951 Supreme Court ruling that Sam feels was nullified by foreign interference in the 2016 election, made it illegal to conspire to teach and encourage the overthrow of the federal government. Eugene Dennis, the named plaintiff, was general secretary of the Communist Party USA. He had been found guilty, along with 10 other party leaders, of advocating violent rebellion against the government. They appealed to the Supreme Court, arguing that the Smith Act, which made anti-government organizing illegal, violated First Amendment rights. The appeal failed.

Sam’s understanding of the legal history here is incomplete at best. The Dennis decision is already “null,” by any reasonable standard. The Supreme Court partly reversed itself in a 1957 decision that rendered the conspiracy provisions of the Smith Act unenforceable, and de facto overruled Dennis with the Brandenburg v. Ohio decision of 1969, which held that “mere advocacy” of violent revolution was protected speech.

Stories

When it comes to reporting on the boogaloo movement, as Vanderbilt professor Amy Cooter put it, “caution is the best approach.” (Salon has been careful to remind readers of this rule in this series, and will take this opportunity to do so again.)

“Normalizing everyone who describes themselves under the boog umbrella risks missing the variety of motives that can be involved and thus risks missing potential violence and other extremism, even if those people truly are outliers in a given area or organization,” she said.

Author and journalist Talia Lavin offered similar advice. “As with any fascist group, any statement coming directly from them should be treated with extreme caution; their goal is to sow fear and they lie shamelessly,” she said. “Journalists should take this into account and never assume good faith from violent far-right movements.”

Sam concurs, at least to a point. “The Boogaloo is tiny compared to, say, [Black Lives Matter], but they are skilled manipulators and understand that since no one really knows what they are about they can pick whatever side they want. The left likes them because white men with rifles deter overreactions by police. The right tolerates them because they are white men with rifles talking about liberty.”

Ford Fischer, founder of News2Share and a regular media presence at right-wing rallies, told Salon he has observed those contradictions on the scene, describing boogaloo physically switching from far-right to far-left sides during protests, and even physically challenging Proud Boys in order to ostensibly protect members of the radical left.

“Covering the boogaloos for the past year and a half has been fascinating because of the contrast between their politics and the rest of street politics in the past year,” Fischer told Salon, though “fascinating” appears to gloss over the normalcy of guns at rallies, as well as fails to capture the seriousness with which the boogaloo’s professed commitment to imminent and brutal violence should be taken. “While 2020 was defined by domestic unrest spanning from social justice to COVID restrictions to the end of Trump’s presidency, the boogaloos have been a feature at many of those situations that don’t fit squarely into a side.

“Their alliances with left and right are pretty situational,” he continued, echoing experts and Sam himself, who share the observation that these affiliations are often disingenuous. “It’s been really interesting to film them in various settings and states and see the way it can vary. In general, they tend to be consistent in their anti-government and pro-gun beliefs, but it’s been challenging explaining their role to audiences used to assigning ‘left’ or ‘right’ labels. 

“Ironically, I most commonly see people from the left accuse them of being fascists, and people from the right accuse them of being armed leftists. The groups who do ally with them tend to take their concept of being outside of the left-right spectrum much more at face value,” he said.

Most reporting on the boogaloo seems focused on their attire and their semi-apocalyptic vision. Journalists rarely, if ever. address the ideology’s conspicuous, yawning void: There is no plan for what comes next. That vacuum can be read as nihilistic, but in a certain sense it can be read as more reassuring than that. For a group so obsessed with the minutiae of its tilt toward war, the boogaloo appears to have given little thought to what it wants after that war is over. As things stand, that imagined future seems to be groups of guys standing around jawing about their guns. An endless demonstration, with nothing to protest.

The near term

Over the last year, law enforcement began to crack down on the boogaloo.

In early May, the FBI arrested a Colorado member who had planned to attend an anti-lockdown event in Denver, charging him with possessing four pipe bombs. Two other adherents were booked in Texas, one after he live-streamed his intent to murder a police officer. Another was picked up in Ohio for plotting a law enforcement ambush in a national park. Two self-professed members were arrested last month, one for planning a Jan. 6 riot in Louisville, Kentucky, parallel to the insurrection at the Capitol. Last fall, after two boogaloo members were charged in the plot to kidnap (and perhaps murder) Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer, the police locked up another 16 boogaloo followers in seven days.

“I think that kidnapping a sitting elected official is moronic,” Sam said of the Whitmer plot, though again offered only a tactical, not moral critique. “It was bad optics and painted our movement as a bunch of lunatics. It detracts from the message of liberty.”

About a dozen members showed up on Jan. 17 for an armed protest outside the Michigan state capitol.

Now in his 30s, Sam speaks of the future with anticipation.

“Time is sort of the essence. As soon as it thaws things will begin to happen,” he said. “The next POC to be murdered by police. Unrest over any and all gun control. The destruction of working-class lives due to COVID-19, etc., etc. Spring, summer and fall, as in ancient history, are the seasons for war.”

While he derides lone-wolf boogaloo attackers like Steven Carrillo for overstepping the rules of engagement, he understands the movement’s vulnerability to exploitation by violent right-wing radicals or outright lunatics. While his own cell may set a high bar for recruits, as he tells it, the boogaloo ideology itself demands no nationwide standards, and groups can more or less recruit anyone they please.

Jared Holt observed that given the obsession with near-apocalyptic violence, open recruitment has obvious dangers. “My impression is that the potential for an organized act of violence is less likely to come from the boogaloo movement than the potential for an individual or small cell of individuals conducting violence,” he said. “That’s also what the arrest records associated with the movement so far have pointed toward.

“A lot of people who get tied up with the boogaloo movement probably think they’re just having fun posting edgy memes online. But because the severity of the threat present in the broader movement is so extreme, we must take it seriously.”

Asked about the likelihood of another Steven Carrillo-type incident, or many such, Sam said, “The short answer is: No one knows. Any member who has bought a [boogaloo] patch online could engage in massive amounts of violence and we wouldn’t know about it until we read about it.”

In a world where Sam led or represented the boogaloo, perhaps the movement’s ideology would not obsess singularly on violence. But that itself should not be taken at face value, either. “Biden has thankfully had a cooling effect, and as COVID recedes things will calm,” Sam said. “But the boog is reorganizing and looking at alternate means,” he continued, adding vaguely: “Infrastructure.”

Sam is not the only boogaloo, nor its leader. Thousands of people are subject to the movement’s strange internal gravity, including him. In one of his final conversations with Salon, Sam said cryptically that if these articles do well, he would have a major “Pulitzer” story to share in “14 months.” Salon asked repeatedly about that timeframe — presumably around April 2022 — but he never answered. He also would not say why he believed such a story would be so highly honored.

Asked one last time about the likelihood that the boogaloo can succeed at effectively destroying all of existing American society, Sam pointed once more to the Revolutionary War.

“I am sure [King] George [III] saw the upstart colonists as a bunch of terrorists and yet they gained a nation,” he said. “It’s not a one-to-one, but you’re only a ‘terrorist’ until you win.”

They haven’t won.

Amnesty decries Biden’s migrant camps and asks to put “best interests” of children first

Calling for any immigration or refugee policy at the U.S. border impacting unaccompanied minors to put the “child’s best interests” first and foremost, Amnesty International on Tuesday responded to the Biden administration’s reopening of a controversial detention center in Texas by warning against any return to the cruel and unacceptable conditions of the past.

Detaining young immigrants who enter the country without an adult guardian in facilities like the recently reopened one in Carrizo Springs “cannot become status quo for children,” Denise Bell, Amnesty International USA’s researcher for refugee and migrant rights, said in a statement.

“The reality is that children who are alone need to be accommodated for their safety while the government identifies and reunites them with appropriate sponsors,” said Bell. “We don’t want to endanger children.”

At the same time, “a government agency is not a parent for children,” Bell continued. “We don’t want them held in detention or in facilities that don’t meet their best interests.”

“Kids need a place to call home,” she added. “That’s why they should be with their families, friends, and community members; this in the child’s best interests.”

Bell was responding to reporting by The Washington Post, which noted that “a vestige of the Trump administration that was open for only a month in summer 2019 . . . is being reactivated to hold up to 700 children ages 13 to 17.”

“Government officials say the camp is needed because facilities for migrant children have had to cut capacity by nearly half because of the coronavirus pandemic,” the Post reported. “At the same time, the number of unaccompanied children crossing the border has been inching up, with January reporting the highest total — more than 5,700 apprehensions — for that month in recent years.”

The Post noted, however, that “immigration lawyers and advocates question why the Biden administration would choose to reopen a Trump-era facility that was the source of protests and controversy. From the ‘tent city’ in Tornillo, Texas, to a sprawling for-profit facility in Homestead, Florida, emergency shelters have been criticized by advocates for immigrants, lawyers, and human rights activists over their conditions, cost, and lack of transparency in their operations.”

Linda Brandmiller, a San Antonio-based immigration lawyer who represents unaccompanied minors, told the newspaper that “it’s unnecessary, it’s costly, and it goes absolutely against everything [President Joe] Biden promised he was going to do. It’s a step backward, is what it is. It’s a huge step backward.”

During his campaign, Biden pledged to undo former President Donald Trump’s xenophobic immigration agenda.

Although the Biden administration has come under fire for unveiling immigration enforcement guidelines that rights groups say enable the continuation of unjust deportations, Biden has also received praise for reversing Trump’s inhumane “Remain in Mexico” policy for asylum-seekers and for introducing a plan to provide 11 million undocumented immigrants with a path to citizenship.

Mark Weber — a spokesperson for the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS), the government agency that manages services for migrant children — told the Post that “the Biden administration is moving away from the ‘law-enforcement focused’ approach of the Trump administration to one in which child welfare is more centric.”

The Post reported that “HHS has 13,200 beds for children, having exploded in growth in the past four years — adding more than 80 facilities for a total of about 200 . . . As of Sunday, there were about 7,000 children in HHS custody, over 90% capacity under pandemic-era requirements.”

Weber, who called “every kid that comes into this program . . .  a symptom of a broken immigration system,” told the newspaper that it’s better to place unaccompanied migrant children in permanent shelters rather than temporary influx shelters, but almost half of the beds in permanent centers cannot be used due to the pandemic.

As the Post reported:

Weber said the facilities received a bad rap under the Trump administration because many people associated them with the detention centers run by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). But the children always received good care and that never wavered between administrations, he said.

The majority of child migrant facilities are subject to state licensing requirements; temporary influx centers like Carrizo are not. However, Weber said Carrizo would “meet or exceed” Texas licensing standards if applicable. The influx facilities also cost more: about $775 a day per child compared with $290 a day for permanent centers.

Weber said the influx shelters keep children from ending up in Border Patrol stations, which have holding cells that were not designed for children. During the 2019 immigration surge, many migrants were stuck in overcrowded cells for prolonged periods that exceeded legal limits.

The detention centers overseen by ICE are reserved for adults or families and often are run by private prison companies. Carrizo Springs is run by the nonprofit BCFS Health and Human Services, a government contractor for the Office of Refugee Resettlement, the agency within HHS that focuses on unaccompanied children.

Most of these children arrive to the United States planning to reunite with sponsors—usually relatives or friends of the family. Office of Refugee Resettlement case managers work with the children to identify and conduct background checks on the sponsors. If cleared, children are released to live with them while they go through the immigration court process.

Rosey Abuabara, a community activist in San Antonio who was arrested for protesting outside the Carrizo facility in 2019, told the newspaper that she “cried . . . when I read they were opening again.”

“I consoled myself with the fact that it was considered the Cadillac of [migrant child] centers,” Abuabara added, “but I don’t have any hope that Biden is going to make it better.”

Brandmiller claimed the government intentionally locates the detention facilities “in places that are not only not readily accessible, but not accessible at all to anyone who cares about the quality of life of these kids, and whether or not they comply with the federal law.”

The Post reported that HHS wants to limit the duration that children are detained at the Carrizo camp to “about 30 days, though they are coming from at least two weeks of quarantine at other Office of Refugee Resettlement facilities in the region. The average stay for children in custody across its facilities is 42 days. In the 2020 fiscal year, migrant children spent an average of 102 days in federal government custody, according to HHS.

Bell of Amnesty said “the Biden administration has inherited a system that holds unaccompanied children in temporary facilities and it will take time to move away from the system.”

“It is important,” Bell said, for the administration to “limit their use and move quickly towards relying only on licensed facilities.” In addition, she asserted, “services in temporary facilities, like the permanent facilities, must include educational services, medical services, legal services, case management, clinicians, and services that support the security and health of the children.”

 

 

Todd Rundgren on no more Trump songs, his high-tech “spectacle” of a tour, and the new Sparks collab

Todd Rundgren has long been known as a musician that’s ahead of the curve. In 1978, he became the first artist to book a live interactive TV concert, while way back in 1992 he started offering up commercial music downloads. A half-decade ago, he also presented the first full-length concert filmed with multiple virtual reality 360º cameras. 

In 2021, the producer, songwriter and musician continues to relish innovation, with a 25-date “Clearly Human” virtual tour that runs through March 22. While Rundgren and his band are using Chicago as a home base for presenting each concert, the dates are arranged as if the group was traveling from city to city; accordingly, each show also features tailored banter and references. 

The “Clearly Human” shows are also quite ambitious. Backed by 10 people, including vocalists and a horn section, Rundgren is focusing on his 1989 solo album “Nearly Human,” as well as songs culled from his bands, Nazz and Utopia. The stage is arranged with retro flair, as if it was a 1970s variety show, although a gigantic video screen behind everyone marks it as a truly modern event.

“If we’re going to go to all this trouble, we want to do a show that’s really worth watching, not just us playing a bunch of songs, but a real spectacle,” Rundgren tells Salon with a laugh. 

Rundgren — who teamed up with Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo to release a song called “Down With The Ship” last year — has also been in the news recently for being an expert commentator in Edgar Wright’s Sparks documentary, “The Sparks Brothers.” He produced the band’s 1972 debut LP — a studio turn that heralded a decorated production career that also includes blockbusters such as Meat Loaf‘s 1977 LP “Bat Out of Hell.” 

His appearance in the doc led to a new collaboration that’s due to see the light of day soon. “I have quite a soft spot for Sparks, almost in the same way that I have a soft spot for Meat Loaf,” Rundgren says. “It’s one of those acts that nobody saw the potential in, except for me for some reason. And it’s probably because I appreciated the weirdness in them while everyone else was looking for normalcy. You know, there was nothing weirder than Sparks at the time.”

During rehearsals for his virtual tour, Rundgren spoke to Salon about rekindling his Sparks friendship, as well as getting back into music and doing his first batch of shows since October 2019.

When is the last time you’ve been off the road this long? That’s like a year and a half. 

Yeah — like, never. [Laughs.] Never have I been off road that long. The closest I ever came was in the late ’70s or early ’80s, when I took about a year off to learn computer programming. And that was a long time. And I probably did one or two little gigs, but I didn’t do any major touring.

From talking to musicians in the past year, it seems like there’s a common theme of everyone’s like, “I am just going stir crazy. I need to do something.” Having that hard stop is so strange.

I have in recent years been touring as much as eight to 10 months, with the various projects that I’m involved. When Ringo [Starr] was on the road, that would be two or three months out of the year. [Note: Rundgren has been a part of the Beatles drummer’s All-Starr Band.] I do my own touring as well. And there’s always some other little residence at a college or something like that. 

When this first happened, I was kind of, “Well, you know, count your blessings. You’re at home and wanted to spend more time at home, so here you go.” [Laughs.] And after a couple of months, you know, you start to think that you’re losing a certain contact with your fans, like musically. And so a lot of people started doing little fireside acoustic presentations. [Laughs.] And I just didn’t feel like doing that. I get this level of commitment in me when it’s time to start playing, and sitting down with an acoustic strumming, it doesn’t do it for me. I don’t know how it works for others, but it doesn’t do it for me. 

So I avoided doing anything especially musical. During the whole period, I did six episodes of our live streamed TV show [“The Todd’s Honest Truth”], but that was mostly lifestyle and I never performed any music on it. So, yeah — a whole year and some months here. Unprecedented.

As you’ve gotten back into music, is it one of those things where it’s like, “It’s just like a bike, I’m getting back into it,” or was there a ramping-up process that you found yourself needing to do?

Well, the first day [of rehearsals] I guess for everybody was a mystery, especially how good your voice was working or how crisp your playing is, because you haven’t been challenged and you haven’t been in front of an audience. I think everyone had some trepidation when we first started rehearsing, when we first started making actual real noise. [Laughs.]

As for me, I think the first day that I did any real singing, it was a little rough, but I felt somewhat encouraged that I hadn’t lost too much. But then the second day, I had almost nothing left. I had blown it all out on the first day. Today was the third day I did any serious singing, and it seems to be coming back. So I’m confident by the time Sunday rolls around in our first show, I’ll be ready to go.

That sounds about right: You’ll be warmed up, everything will be good to go. It’s like the muscle coming back.

It’s not exactly like riding a bicycle. I mean, it’s not like, hop on and it all feels right of a sudden. It’s like me and my voice are somewhat strangers to each other [Laughs.] because I haven’t really tried to sing with it that much. And so it’s a whole kind of re-associating, getting to know the different parts of my range, getting my diaphragm back in shape, so that I can sing for two hours. 

[This is] nothing different than what has happened on a normal tour, but for the fact that — aside from all the nerve-racking aspects of rehearsing a new show, there is the nerve-racking aspects of being in a pandemic situation while we’re doing it. We all have this [regimen] to keep from getting infected. And then on top of that, since it’s a virtual tour, I’m the promoter of the tour; I have to pay for everything. Because we’re not literally taking it anywhere; it’s all in one place. So no local promoters are going to guarantee me anything, I have to essentially underwrite the entire thing. So it’s definitely more nerve-racking than a normal tour, which would be nerve-racking enough. 

You never really settle in until a week or two’s worth of shows, and that’s one reason why we’re doing a virtual tour instead of one big special. Most people do a one-off and put all their eggs in one basket. And I can’t see going to all the work of putting together one show, and then not getting the satisfaction of playing it again. [Laughs.] It’s one of those things where you go to all the trouble to learn the material and everything, you want to play it so that you can get better and better at it and find new things in it. So just doing one show was never going to be adequate for me anyway. 

As you were approaching the setlist and the song choices for this particular run, what did you want to present? Was there anything in particular?

Well, the show has a certain quality about it. The music that’s in the show, it all came from a record that I released like in 1988 or something like that. [Editor’s note: 1989’s “Nearly Human.”] And it was the first time that I really took seriously trying to become an R&B singer, and wrote most of the material to conform to that, and arranged all the material and everything was done live in the studio. 

Everyone involved had such a great experience doing it that way that we took the whole thing out on the road and put together what was then 11 pieces behind me. And I had tour support at the time from Warner Bros. [Laughs.] I was able to tour everywhere, and tour Japan. I can’t remember whether we got to Europe at all, but managed to take those 12 pieces all over parts of the planet. So I’ve always wanted to do it again, but the cost of it was prohibitive, especially after record labels have all collapsed, and they don’t provide tour support anyone.

And now being able to be in one place, you can do that again. That’s so interesting.

Yeah, because we don’t have to do the travel. But also because we are in one place, the whole production level of the show is probably higher than it would be normally. I mean, I’ve got the most gigantic video wall behind me, something that I never would have been able to take on the road because it probably takes a whole day to put up.

Your long history with technologically advanced endeavors is well documented. Is there anything that you’ve done in the past that is particularly analogous to what you’re doing now? Or is this something completely new?

The technology has advanced a lot in the last several years since I did anything that was particularly technical oriented. Usually whatever lighting and special effects that I’m using — I’m not inventing anything, I’m getting stuff that’s already been broken in so we can depend on it surviving the rigors of the road. 

But for this particular situation, there are a couple of things that are different. For instance, our audience is substantially virtual as well. We have video panels set up where audience members would be. And people can essentially buy a ticket to the front rows, and we will see them. We’ll actually see their faces and recognize them and wave to them and stuff. [Laughs.] 

And along with that, you know, we space it out, so that we can have actual live bodies. Not a giant bunch of them, but anyone who wants to show up at the gig would have to present a recent negative [COVID-19] test as well. But they’ll also be social distancing within the venue. Even for people who are sitting in the audience, we break up the live bodies with video panels. 

The other interesting thing is the so-called meet-and-greets. Under normal circumstances, we would have anyone who wanted to take a picture with the band or something, and get something signed. They would show up a couple hours before the show, gather in the lobby of the venue, and then we would take pictures of everybody and then sign stuff for them. 

So what we’ve done is set up a room with three video screens in it. And on the video screens is a Zoom session. Everybody dials into the Zoom session, so they’re all there together. They’re all in the same room together. And then we just highlight them one by one, and add the camera setup so they can take a snapshot or a screen grab with their camera. And I can be standing next to them as they’ll be kind of like regular size. We’re putting them on big screen so their heads will be normal size. And that should be just to be more fun for everybody. And it’ll work just as well for like the green room we’ll have a green room session for after the show, so that all our friends who aren’t physically here can come visit us and tell us how much they love the show. [Laughs.]

It’s sci-fi almost, and a little bit dystopian. Has that spurred on anything songwriting-wise for you? Or is this entire experience making you more or less creative songwriting-wise?

I have been involved in music but I’m continuing my collaborations. So a lot of what I do has to do with what I get from somebody else. And I’ve been involved in a few little production projects as well, one of [which] is still ongoing. Obviously, those are all in limbo until we get figuratively on the road, and I have the time to invest in that on my days off. But as far as actual anything in particular to the pandemic, I have not come up with a pandemic-specific thing. Yet. [Laughs.] Yet. Maybe it’s in the false hope that this thing will all be over soon enough. If I ignore it, maybe that’ll help. [Laughs.]

That makes sense — you get hindsight, and then you can process it, because it is very strange in the moment.

It’s like writing politically motivated songs. Because politics changes eventually, so the song becomes irrelevant. Of course, it might become re-relevant later. [Laughs.] Like that Buffalo Springfield song, “For What It’s Worth.”

In the last four years, I was I was horrified at how much political punk music made in the early ’80s felt very, very relevant. 

You could’ve made a whole career writing about Trump, but then who wants to? [Laughs.]

You know, it does get to a certain point where it was outrage burnout. It was all too much. Because it was like, nothing’s going to change.

You don’t want to give him the attention. [Laughs.] And me and Donald Fagen, you know, we got our licks in really early on. We got our licks in pretty much four or five months after he got into office with [their collaborative song] “Tin Foil Hat.” And I ran that video all during the tour. So we made our position clear, and we got our licks in, and somebody else can take a whack at him now. We just wish we’d never heard of him.

I saw the premiere of the Sparks documentary, which you were in. I thought it was wonderful. And I read that you reunited with the band for a song?

We’ve already got the song. And we’ve picked out a single cover. It’s the next single in a series of singles that I’m releasing. And, yeah, the next one is me and Sparks. A little song called “Fandango.” [Laughs.] It’ll be out soon.

What was it like working with them again then after all these years?

Well, they sent me something that I guess they had done. What often happens is I’ll get something from another artist. And it’ll be a demo for a song that they worked on, but then they never finished it. They lost interest in it or something like that. 

So they sent me this song that sounded substantially like a finished product, except for the fact that I think there was some placeholder stuff that was meant to be developed a little further and they just never got around to it. I started just dressing it up and adding some vocal parts, writing some lyrics for it. And, in the end, you know — they sent me the track, I sent back what I did to them. We were both happy with it, and the label’s happy with it because they’re going to put it out.

That has been the most buoying thing in the last year is getting new music. That’s been a great lifeline. So that’s very exciting.

Yeah, and the funny thing was — they didn’t show it in the film, even though it was filmed — but right after I did my shoot for them, they actually had the brothers in another room and didn’t tell me. I hadn’t seen them for over 40 years. So we had a personal reunion there. And that’s when I asked them if they had anything that we could collaborate on. And that was the inception of “Fandango.”

Our moral fate: Allen Buchanan on escaping tribalism

Looked at in one way, human history can be viewed as a depressing litany of inhumane events: war, slavery, genocide, and political persecution. Looked at in another way, one can clearly see the outlines of moral progress that has been made. In fact, two great expansions of the “moral circle” have occurred in just the past couple of centuries. The first was the shift from “tribal rights” to universal human rights. The second is the ongoing expansion of moral rights to non-human entities: animals, plants, the environment, perhaps even robots and AI entities (though this last issue is still very much up for debate).

Was the expansion of moral rights to ever more people and beings inevitable? Or was it merely a historical contingency? One that could just as easily have developed differently? Or perhaps even reverse? These questions get at the heart of what it means to be human. Are we hardwired to evolve into increasingly moral beings? Or is our apparent improvement only subject to social and historical factors? Take those factors away, and perhaps regression is inevitable. (As it often felt like during Trump’​s tenure in the White House.)

Allen Buchanan, a professor of philosophy at the University of Arizona and the author of more than a dozen books, has spent his career trying to understand how the appearance of human morality appeared within the context of biological evolution. His latest book, “Our Moral Fate: Evolution and the Escape from Tribalism,” is a meditation on this question. His unsettling conclusion, explored in the conversation that follows: Progress in human morality can still happen, but is far from guaranteed.

* * *

Philip Laughlin: Can you define Tribalism? How does it differ from mere disagreement, even deep disagreement?

Allen Buchanan: Tribalism is much worse than disagreement, even deep disagreement. If I disagree with you, I may still treat you with respect, listen to what you have to say, and try to bargain and compromise — to meet in the middle. With tribalism, you regard those you disagree with as not just wrong but as either incorrigibly stupid and misinformed or irredeemably corrupt, insincere, and even evil. You disregard the content of the person’s views because you dismiss the person as not worthy of being listened to or engaged with. At the extreme, this amounts to dehumanizing the Other; because we think that humans are reasonable and can be reasoned with. When you exclude someone from the community of reasonable beings, you dehumanize them.

The term is often used to characterize the extreme political polarization. But to characterize tribalism as merely political would be an understatement. It is something much more comprehensive, reaching much deeper into our lives, as the phrase “culture wars” suggests. We see tribalism on the Left and tribalism on the Right — but not in the middle, because it’s the nature of tribalism to create an unbridgeable, uninhabitable chasm between Us and Them. The tribalistic mentality sees things in black and white, good and evil. Tribalism transforms disagreement into mutual hatred, mild condescension into utter contempt.

PL: Many people think, quite reasonably, that tribalism poses a dire threat to democracy, because it undermines the mutual respect and genuine, sincere communication among citizens that democracy requires. What do you think?

AB: Tribalism is a threat to democracy for two reasons. The first is the refusal to listen to and engage with the Other, to dismiss them as beyond the pale, not members of the community of reasonable beings. That rules out bargaining and compromise, which are essential for democracy. The second is the tendency to see all conflict as zero sum — what you gain, I lose, and vice versa — and to think that all conflicts are linked together in kind of Armageddon scenarios. In other words, the tribalistic mentality regards us as being in a supreme emergency — a deadly, no-holds barred contest for the highest stakes imaginable. If you think that way and think the conflict is zero sum, you will not only not try to compromise and bargain: You will go for the jugular. There will be few or no moral limits on what you are willing to do when you think everything is at stake. Consider the title of Sean Hannity’s new book: “Live Free Or Die: America (and the World) on the Brink.”

PL: Are human beings tribalistic by nature? Can we escape or combat tribalism?

AB: Groupishness is in our genes. We will always tend to divide the world into Us and Them and tend to think We are superior. But if we construct the right social environment, we can avoid tribalism in its more extreme, harmful forms.

With that said, many scientists who study human evolution think an intimate link exists between tribalism and morality. More precisely, they think that human beings are tribalistic so far as their moral nature is concerned, that the evolved moral mind, our basic moral psychology, is tribalistic. If they are right, then the prospects for successfully combating tribalism are slim to none. Science yields a counsel of despair. For if we humans are beings with a morally tribalistic nature, then any escape from tribalism we are able to achieve — any progress toward inclusive morality, morality that is not deeply biased toward one’s own group — will be only partial; and it won’t be durable, because it goes against the grain of our nature.

Yet moral progress has occurred, and in some of the most significant instances it involves a shift toward inclusion, away from tribalism. Steven Pinker has written two fine books to remind us that there has been a great deal of moral progress. In many societies, the position of women is now better, chattel slavery has been abolished and serious efforts are being made to eliminate other forms of involuntary servitude, the governments of more countries than ever before are constrained by the rule of law and constitutional principles, homicide rates almost everywhere have dropped dramatically since the late Middle Ages, there have been significant strides toward achieving equal civil and political rights for people of color and national minorities, more countries recognize the right to freedom of religion than has been the case throughout most of human history, in many places laws now curb the worst treatment of nonhuman animals, and so on.

Reflecting on these positive changes, one feels proud and optimistic. Yet if you’re like me, you feel a deep, disturbing tension between Pinker’s inspiring message and the belief that humans are tribalistic, morally speaking. You don’t know what to think about the prospects for moral progress — whether hope or despair is the proper response to the current situation. And if you look to what science tells us about morality, you’re likely to conclude that the great ape species called Homo sapiens is condemned to tribalism — and that moral progress is therefore likely to be limited and fragile — because evolutionary science apparently tells us that our moral nature is tribalistic.

PL: Do you think it is?

AB: Our moral nature is not exclusively tribalistic but also includes the capacity for inclusion. At present we face serious problems that can be put under the heading of “tribalism,” but if we want to make headway in solving them, we should avoid mischaracterizing the problem as one of “overcoming our tribal nature.” That makes it sound like the problem is how to inhibit an instinct, when in fact it is largely a matter of how to dismantle or prevent a social construction and capitalize on the more constructive aspect of our dual moral nature.

It’s crucial to understand that our moral nature isn’t tribalistic; it is highly flexible, capable of both tribalism and inclusion. That flexibility makes durable moral progress possible. Some social environments stimulate the tribalistic potential of our moral nature; others stimulate the potential for inclusion. Human beings are capable of producing both sorts of social environments. Furthermore, it’s not just a matter of tribalism versus inclusion; variations in social environments produce moralities that contrast in other ways.

The point is that the character of morality isn’t fixed; it all depends on the social environment, and social environments change. Whether you are able to be the best sort of person that human beings are capable of being depends not just on your strength of character, the depth of your commitment to being moral, and on whether your parents inculcated moral values in you. It also depends on whether you have the good moral luck to develop as a moral agent in a society that provides the right conditions for realizing your best moral potential.

PL: You write in your book that for the vast majority of us, other people — a tiny minority that wields the most influence and power — shape those conditions. Can you explain what you mean?

Once you understand that the character of a society’s pervasive morality and of its moral agents depends on specific circumstances, and also see that control over the nature of those circumstances is unevenly distributed among human beings, you’ll have an additional reason to worry about the growing inequality we are witnessing today. Extreme inequality in wealth isn’t just a defect from the standpoint of distributive justice or equal opportunity or because it undermines political equality. Those are all serious moral costs of extreme inequality. But another cost has gone unnoticed. Inequality arbitrarily gives some people control over something much more fundamental: what sort of morality will flourish in our society and whether we, as individuals, will be morally progressive beings or morally stunted.

Because humans so far haven’t realized how much their moral fate depends on the character of their environment, they haven’t tried to shape that environment accordingly. Instead, changes in the social environment have resulted from the morally blind processes of natural and cultural selection and the deliberate actions of individuals and groups who were aiming at other goals, not taking into account the effects their actions might have on the moral possibilities.

When changes in the social environment fostered moral progress, it was a matter of sheer luck, not scientifically informed, intentional action. In spite of these grim tidings, I offer in the book hope, not despair, and try to show that what sort of morality we have, and what sorts of moral agents we are, is up to us, not a given that we have to accept, but rather something we can learn to shape.

I know, by the way, that whenever I use the phrase “moral progress,” it’s bound to raise hackles in some quarters. The term can be a trigger for people who think that the notion of moral progress is a weapon of Western cultural imperialism, or at least that it has been so tainted by colonialism that there should be a ban on uttering it. Or they think that “moral progress” means universal moral improvement and worry that such a notion is incompatible with recognizing that more than one valid or reasonable morality may exist. They think the very idea of moral progress is at odds with respect for moral diversity. So I’ll say here that the examples of moral progress I discuss in the book are widely accepted as improvements, across a variety of moral perspectives — not just the standpoint of Western values.

PL: What can we do to avoid the worst forms of tribalism?

Admonishing each other to “be civil” won’t solve the problem. We have to think hard about the features of social environments that either trigger tribalism or encourage more inclusive attitudes toward those we disagree with. To a large extent this means tweaking institutions so that they give us incentives to listen, to bargain, to compromise — to meet in the middle. A few changes that might help: having more than two parties; changing to a proportional representation electoral system; and requiring a supermajority vote (two-thirds or more) for important legislation. All three of these mechanisms encourage cooperation across party lines and give people incentives to bargain and compromise.

Of course, there is a chicken and egg problem here: If we are so pervasively tribalistic, how can we get the political cooperation needed to make these sorts of changes or any changes that would give people incentives to listen to each other, to engage, to bargain and compromise? I don’t know the answer to that question. One thing individuals could do would be to resist the temptation to occupy belief silos — to interact only with people who share their political views. Studies show that when people do that, their views become more extreme. We may also have to rethink our understanding of the boundaries of free speech. If we have sound scientific knowledge that certain phrases or images mimic the threat cues that prompted our remote ancestors to react tribalistically, then perhaps media platforms should restrict their use.

If humans learn enough about the moral mind and the interactions between it and specific environmental features, we can in principle take charge of our moral fate: We can exert significant influence on what sorts of moralities are predominant in our societies and what sorts of moral agents we are. Doing so would be perhaps the highest form of human autonomy. It would also be the most profound kind of creativity: the creation of the moral self in a species for whom the moral self lies at the core of our being.

* * *

Allen Buchanan is Professor in the Department of Philosophy and Freedom Center at the University of Arizona and Distinguished Research Fellow at Oxford Uehiro Centre for Practical Ethics at the University of Oxford. He is the author of more than a dozen books, most recently “Our Moral Fate: Evolution and the Escape from Tribalism.”

Philip Laughlin acquires books for the MIT Press in the fields of Cognitive Science, Philosophy, Linguistics, and Bioethics.

Capitol rioter busted by ex-girlfriend he called a “moron” in text sent on insurrection day

A Pennsylvania man was identified as a U.S. Capitol rioter by his ex-girlfriend after he called her a “moron” in a text message sent from the violent assault.

Richard Michetti sent text messages Jan. 6 describing the crowd surging into the Capitol, according to investigators, and his ex-girlfriend said he’d taken a train to Washington, D.C., the day before because he believed the election had been stolen from former president Donald Trump, reported The Morning Call.

“If you can’t see the election was stolen, you’re a moron,” Michetti texted his ex-girlfriend, according to court filings. “This is tyranny. They . . . told us ‘We rigged the election and there’s nuthin [sic] you can do about it’ What do you think should be done?”

Photo and video evidence shows Michetti milling around the Capitol Rotunda and checking his phone in a crowd outside.

“Gotta stop the vote it’s fraud this is our country,” Michetti wrote in another message. “All’s we wanted was an investigation that’s it. And they couldn’t investigate the biggest presidential race in history with mail-in ballots who everyone knows is easy to fraud.”

The Ridley Park man was charged with knowingly entering a restricted building, violent entry and disorderly conduct on Capitol grounds and obstruction of Congress, and he was released on unsecured bail with electronic monitoring pending an appearance in federal court next week.

Solitary confinement may worsen COVID-19 transmission in prisons

In December, Covid-19 infections in prisons in the United States hit a record 25,000 in one week. Among correctional staff that month, there were an additional 5,000 new infections a week, leading to spread in surrounding communities. According to a New York Times database, collectively, more than 580,000 people at correctional institutions have been infected. The prisoner death toll has now surpassed 2,000.

Eleven months into the pandemic, the U.S. prison system has not gotten control of its rising caseload, which is likely still underestimated, according to The Marshall Project, a nonprofit journalism outlet focused on criminal justice issues. Doctors, attorneys, prison reform advocates, and public health researchers are increasingly concerned about one of the tactics that prisons are using to isolate symptomatic individuals: solitary confinement, the prolonged use of which is an internationally recognized form of torture denounced by the United Nations.

According to report published last June by Unlock the Box, a campaign to end solitary confinement, during the first Covid-19 peak in April, there was a reported 500 percent increase in solitary confinement. Distinct from medical isolation, where inmates may be housed with others who test positive for Covid-19 and have access to televisions, tablets, and ways to keep in touch with family and friends, solitary confinement usually involves restrictions or bans on these resources.

In prisons that have implemented unit-wide lockdowns to prevent the spread of coronavirus, some lawyers say inmates report being confined to their cells for at least 22 hours a day. Such isolation has become commonplace in many correctional facilities, where minimal ventilation, limited protective gear, and overcrowding create superspreader conditions. Colder temperatures this winter may also enhance spread.

And while prison reform advocates acknowledge that physical separation of prisoners is necessary to contain the virus, they say there are better ways to go about it. According to a 2020 analysis from Amend, a program at the University of California San Francisco that seeks to change correctional culture in the U.S. using a public health and human rights framework, the use of punitive isolation “including indeterminate system-wide facility lockdowns where people cannot communicate with their families, exercise outside, participate in programming, or interact with health care professionals,” may even increase transmission because it deters prisoners from reporting symptoms and seeking treatment.

“If the consequence is ‘going down to the hole'” — a common term for solitary confinement — “people aren’t going to report their symptoms,” says Amend’s research director David Cloud. “People are going to refuse testing. People are not going to do the things that are most critical for fighting this pandemic.” The Federal Bureau of Prisons did not respond to multiple requests for comment from Undark, but according to a fact sheet on the agency’s website, staff conduct rounds and take inmates’ temperatures at least once a day. Still, infection is not always accompanied by a fever or any symptoms at all.

Despite attempts to decrease prison populations early in 2020 to curb the spread of Covid-19, according to the Prison Policy Initiative, a nonprofit research and advocacy organization focused on criminal justice, most of the reduction has been due to decreasing admissions, not releasing inmates early. That means that people who are currently incarcerated, including those with pre-existing medical conditions, remain vulnerable to the virus. A disproportionate number of those people — nearly 40 percent — are Black, though Black people comprise less than 13 percent of the U.S. population. New strains of the coronavirus may also cause more infections. Public health researchers suggest that prisons should replace punitive solitary confinement with humane medical isolation in order to protect people both inside and outside correctional facilities.

* * *

Defense attorney Ashley Allen represents David Maglio, the first person to test positive for Covid-19 at the Wyatt Detention Facility in Rhode Island. According to Allen, Maglio developed symptoms in April, and an outbreak followed not long after. He became seriously ill and was isolated.

“He said ‘I felt like I was locked in a closet and I had to bang on the door to get any attention. People looked at me like I was a zombie,'” Allen recalls Maglio saying. In an email, Wyatt Detention Facility warden Daniel Martin wrote that while inmates may be placed in medical isolation or quarantine housing to reduce the spread of Covid-19, they “are not placed in solitary confinement.” During this time, he added, they are offered playing cards, radios, and tablets, among other items, and have the ability to communicate with family members.

Between April and July, Maglio lost contact with his family, according to Allen. His wife and young son had moved to California, but he was unable to transfer to a facility closer to them until July. At his new facility, Maglio wrote in an email to Undark, he has not been able to see his family in person, or even over Zoom.

More than 15 consecutive days in solitary confinement is defined under international law as torture under the U.N.’s Nelson Mandela Rules, because the cells used for solitary are designed to cause sensory and social deprivation. While they may be the only space available to medically isolate infected people in many prisons, solitary confinement units are often used as an extreme form of punishment.

In a press release announcing the publication of Unlock the Box’s report on solitary confinement last summer, steering committee member Brie Williams, founder and director of Amend at UCSF, as well as a physician, said that while “[s]eparating people who become infected with Covid-19 is a necessary public health measure to prevent the spread of Covid-19, particularly in prisons and jails,” using “the punitive practice of solitary confinement in response to the pandemic will only make things worse.”

Individuals who have spent any time at all in solitary are more likely to die in the year after release, especially from suicide, according to research by Lauren Brinkley-Rubinstein, an assistant professor of social medicine at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Solitary confinement has proven to have such negative impacts on mental health that the U.S. Department of Justice recommended restricting its use in 2016.

Even when repeated pandemic lockdowns have led to prolonged solitary-like restrictions not only for infected individuals, but also on whole prison populations, these measures haven’t been able to stop the virus’s spread.

Correctional housing units have minimal ventilation and limited access to protective equipment, says Alexandria Macmadu, an epidemiology Ph.D. candidate at the Brown University School of Public Health. Most facilities can’t provide six feet between incarcerated people and staff, or follow pandemic sanitation guidelines. “None of these facilities are built to actually allow for social distancing,” says Elizabeth Matos, executive director of Prisoners’ Legal Services of Massachusetts, a not-for-profit organization that offers legal representation and advocacy for inmates in the state.

The airflow through connected cells and dormitories also enhances risk of infection, says Lidia Morawska, a physicist and director of the International Laboratory for Air Quality and Health at Queensland University of Technology, which is a collaborating center of the World Health Organization.

Morawska worries that this winter, plummeting temperatures may cause even faster spread. “This kind of virus likes cold and dry conditions,” she says. Many facilities keep windows closed to prevent cold, which reduces ventilation and increases transmission.

These conditions make correctional facilities Covid-19 superspreaders. The U.S. has the largest incarcerated population in the world, at roughly 2.3 million people. It is notoriously overcrowded, with an average occupancy level of 99.8 percent in 2017, according to the World Prison Brief, an online database hosted by the Institute for Criminal Policy Research at University of London. Some states operate at 150 percent capacity or more.

“That’s the elephant in the room with this pandemic,” says Cloud. “Just by virtue of 40 years of mass incarceration, you have so many people, so many humans, living in very small, terrible spaces. It’s just a perfect recipe for an outbreak to happen with staff coming in and out from the community.”

An initial push last spring to reduce prison populations ended with few lasting changes. Between January and August, state prison populations decreased by only 4 percent and the federal system by 10 percent for a total of about 70,000 people freed during that time period. Brinkley-Rubinstein analyzed Covid-19 spread in the Texas prison system and found that transmission is minimized at 85 percent capacity or less. More than 200,000 prisoners would need to be freed to hit that mark.

“As Covid continues to spread like wildfire across the country, we’ll see that amplified in prisons and jails,” Brinkley-Rubenstein says.

In a paper published last month, Stanford engineers collaborated with researchers at Yale University to model rates of transmission. They found that Covid-19 spreads faster in U.S. jails and prisons than it did on the Diamond Princess cruise ship during the superspreader event that infected around 700 people early in the pandemic. As of September, more than 40 of the 50 largest clustered outbreaks in the U.S. had occurred in prisons and jails, and they continue to fill the list of Covid-19 hotspots. The few facilities that have conducted mass testing found an infection rate of around 65 percent.

Adjusted for age and sex, the death rate for prisoners infected with the coronavirus is three times higher than for the general U.S. population, according to the University of California Los Angeles School of Law’s Covid-19 Behind Bars Data Project. The Covid-19 outcomes are so poor for this population because many are already sick. “On average, they have at least one chronic condition,” Brinkley-Rubenstein says, “which puts people at risk of suffering more severely from Covid-19.”

These infections affect people outside of the system, too. “Prisons and jails are not an island. People go in and out of them each day. Not only the people who are incarcerated, but also the staff members who return each day to their families,” says Macmadu. In a December report, the Prison Policy Initiative estimated “that mass incarceration added about 566,800 cases — or roughly 13 percent of all new cases — over the summer of 2020 alone.”

“We’re in for a long, hard winter,” Brinkley-Rubenstein says.

* * *

While solitary confinement units may be the only way to medically isolate infected people in many prisons, some experts want prison administrators to rethink how the units are used. “We ought to transform those spaces into medical spaces rather than spaces of punishment,” Brinkley-Rubinstein says. The only thing solitary confinement and medical isolation need to share in common: physical separation from other people.

One way to distinguish solitary confinement from Covid-19 quarantine is to give isolated people access to materials that help pass the time and keep them connected to others. UCSF’s Amend program suggests increased access to telehealth consultations, books, radio, games, and, most importantly, communication with loved ones — as Martin says is the case at his Rhode Island facility. The researchers also recommend daily updates from health care staff and a maximum of 14 days isolation, in accordance with guidelines from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. These changes could help ease the mental health repercussions of isolation, while preventing further spread.

But humane quarantine hinges upon having sufficient testing and health care resources. While prisons need the help of public health officials to accomplish these aims, “our public health system itself doesn’t prioritize the millions of people that are behind bars or the people who work in those settings in our pandemic responses,” says Cloud. “It’s an afterthought, or it’s not thought of at all.”

Public health officials “have an imperative to pull a seat up to the table and help public safety institutions mitigate Covid-19 in their buildings,” says Brinkley-Rubinstein. This can be done, she adds, by aiding compassionate release, providing testing, and facilitating humane medical isolation.

Based on the Stanford-Yale jail models, each of these interventions reduces transmission by more than 50 percent. In combination, they will end an outbreak. Some advocates, like Cloud, see the new Covid-19 vaccine as another potential tool to stop spread. He argues that correctional facilities should be at the top of the priority list — not only to protect people in prisons, but those in surrounding communities.

Long-term, many advocates hope the pandemic will lead to a permanent decrease in prison populations. “More and more people are continuing to see decarceration is not only an apt approach to reduce the spread of Covid-19 in prisons and jails right now,” says Macmadu, “but also the ethical thing to do in light of the ongoing systemic racism and the ongoing disparities” that Black communities face.

Others are doubtful. The U.S. prison system is built on traditions that are racist and structural in nature, says Brinkley-Rubenstein. “Once we emerge from this pandemic having not addressed the core sources of this system’s power, it makes me think that we’re probably going to go right back to the status quo,” she says.

However, she adds that the term “structural racism” seems to have become a part of everyday language. “People being versed in what that means does give me a little bit of hope, maybe.”

* * *

Robin Blades is a freelance science journalist and a clinical researcher at the University of California, San Francisco.

This article was originally published on Undark. Read the original article.

How patent laws are hindering the fight against COVID-19

Back in December, a coalition of human rights groups known as the People’s Vaccine Alliance revealed that at least nine out of ten people in 67 low-income countries are likely to go unvaccinated against the novel coronavirus throughout 2021. The obvious explanation is that wealthy countries have been hoarding the eight most promising vaccines for themselves: Rich countries with only 14% of the world’s population have so far brought up 53% of those vaccines, including nearly all of the mRNA vaccines produced by Moderna and Pfizer/BioNTech.

But how are the rich countries able to do this? The answer has a lot to do with how multinational pharmaceutical companies use patents to create a system of unearned economic rents — that is, one in which a handful of large pharmaceutical companies monopolize access to drugs and garner massive profits as a result. Even before the COVID-19 pandemic, this issue has raised the ire of humanitarians, who pointed out that it led to skyrocketing prices for insulin in countries like the United States and has allowed these companies to price-gouge poorer nations. Historians often cite 1994 as a turning point year in terms of this problem, since that was when the World Trade Organization (WTO) required member nations to extend patents to the products created through specific processes of manufacture and synthesis.

“Patent protection increases prices and reduces access to medicines, diagnostics, vaccines, medical devices and PPE [personal protective equipment],” Susan K. Sell, a political scientist at Australian National University, wrote for the scholarly journal “Development” in November. “Strategic behaviour aimed at blocking generic competition contributes to rising drug prices. Pharma firms routinely engage in ‘evergreening’ to extend patent protection terms. A firm may have a popular drug with an about-to-expire patent, and then offer a ‘new’ formulation—from a tablet to a gel cap—of the same drug and obtain another 20 years of protection.”

Sell noted that these practices disproportionately impact people in less affluent countries, citing as one example how during the HIV/AIDS pandemic in the late 1990s and early 2000s “an estimated 12 million infected Africans were left to die, ‘waiting for enough life-saving drugs to reach the continent'” even as patients in wealthier nations saw their death rates from HIV/AIDS plummet.

The problem has only gotten worse during the COVID-19 pandemic.

“With the arrival of COVID-19, it is now painfully obvious that such monopolization comes at the cost of human lives,” economists Joseph Stiglitz, Arjun Jayadev and Achal Prabhala wrote for Columbia Business School’s monthly newsletter Chazen Global Insights. “Monopoly control over the technology used in testing for the virus has hampered the rapid rollout of more testing kits, just as 3M’s 441 patents mentioning ‘respirator’ or ‘N95’ have made it more difficult for new producers to manufacture medical-grade face masks at scale.”

They added, “Worse, multiple patents are in force in most of the world for three of the most promising treatments for COVID-19 – remdesivir, favipiravir, and lopinavir/ritonavir. Already, these patents are preventing competition and threatening both the affordability and the supply of new drugs.”

A group of scientists writing for the scholarly journal “Nature Biotechnology” had a similar observation in October, writing that “during the COVID-19 coronavirus pandemic, we and others have observed instances in which IPR [intellectual property rights] restrictions, and even fear and uncertainty around IPR, have hindered effective research on vaccines and therapies, as well as the development, manufacturing and distribution of ventilators, testing kits, protective equipment and other medical supplies (referred to as ‘crisis-critical products’).”

Another problem with the Big Pharma monopoly, and how it uses that to abuse patent laws, is that it allows the companies to create conditions that hinder the advancement of medical knowledge so that they can financially benefit.

“What we see is scarcity and I think, to some extent, artificial scarcity, like scarcity that is not really a result of scientific or engineering problems but is instead a result of law and policy choices,” Christopher Morten, deputy director of the Technology Law and Policy Clinic at NYU School of Law, told Salon. He said that pharmaceutical corporations can decide that they need to “make it difficult for companies to share or to gain access to each other’s know-how, each other’s knowledge, and law and policy choices that have made it I think too easy for companies to hoard all their knowledge or their technology and thwart competitors from manufacturing vaccines on scale.”

James Love, director of Knowledge Ecology International, a non-governmental organization founded by Ralph Nader that studies the effects of intellectual property on various areas of political and social life, told Salon that Americans have a moral obligation to care about people struggling in less affluent countries. Even if they don’t, however, there is also an element of self-interest involved. He pointed to how, for instance, a South African mutant strain of the novel coronavirus is in the United States.

“The fact that virus is out there, it means it can end up here,” Love explained. “And so the longer people are unvaccinated or the virus is out there and not contained,” the more it puts everyone in the world at risk. “The longer you wait to vaccinate people, the more risk that you run that the existing vaccines won’t even work” or that you won’t how long immunity will last with the existing vaccines.

“You have a lot of unknowns out there, and there are a lot of pretty compelling reasons that it’s not a good idea to just ignore the rest of the world situation,” Love observed.

At its core, the problem with the international patent system can be laid at the feet of capitalism itself.

“That’s what’s in the patent legislation,” Dr. Richard Wolff, professor emeritus of economics at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, told Salon. “You have the following the right either to deny anyone and everyone access to what you’ve patented or to give them access in exchange for being given a cut of whatever they use the patent for a fee, a commission, whatever word you want to use, doesn’t really matter.”

He later added that this patent system is one “which any honest economist will admit [that] the criticisms that arose periodically in every capitalist country, including the U S criticism of monopoly prices, bitter criticisms by people who know very well, that they’re paying way above what they ought to.”

Kaity Assaf and Manuela Lopez Restrepo contributed research for this article.

Why we can’t make vaccine doses any faster

President Joe Biden has ordered enough vaccines to immunize every American against COVID-19, and his administration says it’s using the full force of the federal government to get the doses by July. There’s a reason he can’t promise them sooner.

Vaccine supply chains are extremely specialized and sensitive, relying on expensive machinery, highly trained staff and finicky ingredients. Manufacturers have run into intermittent shortages of key materials, according to the U.S. Government Accountability Office; the combination of surging demand and workforce disruptions from the pandemic has caused delays of four to 12 weeks for items that used to ship within a week, much like what happened when consumers were sent scrambling for household staples like flour, chicken wings and toilet paper.

People often question why the administration can’t use the mighty Defense Production Act — which empowers the government to demand critical supplies before anyone else — to turbocharge production. But that law has its limits. Each time a manufacturer adds new equipment or a new raw materials supplier, they are required to run extensive tests to ensure the hardware or ingredients consistently work as intended, then submit data to the Food and Drug Administration. Adding capacity “doesn’t happen in a blink of an eye,” said Jennifer Pancorbo, director of industry programs and research at North Carolina State University’s Biomanufacturing Training and Education Center. “It takes a good chunk of weeks.”

And adding supplies at any one point only helps if production can be expanded up and down the entire chain. “Thousands of components may be needed,” said Gerald W. Parker, director of the Pandemic and Biosecurity Policy Program at Texas A&M University’s Scowcroft Institute for International Affairs and a former senior official in the Department of Health and Human Services office for preparedness and response. “You can’t just turn on the Defense Production Act and make it happen.”

The U.S. doesn’t have spare facilities waiting around to manufacture vaccines, or other kinds of factories that could be converted the way General Motors began producing ventilators last year. The GAO said the Army Corps of Engineers is helping to expand existing vaccine facilities, but it can’t be done overnight.

Building new capacity would take two to three months, at which point the new production lines would still face weeks of testing to ensure they were able to make the vaccine doses correctly before the companies could start delivering more shots.

“It’s not like making shoes,” Dr. Anthony Fauci, director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, said in an interview with ProPublica. “And the reason I use that somewhat tongue-in-cheek analogy is that people say, ‘Ah, you know what we should do? We should get the DPA to build another factory in a week and start making mRNA.’ Well, by the time a new factory can get geared up to make the mRNA vaccine exactly according to the very, very strict guidelines and requirements of the FDA … we already will have in our hands the 600 million doses between Moderna and Pfizer that we contracted for. It would almost be too late.”

Fauci added that the DPA works best for “facilitating something rather than building something from scratch.”

The Trump administration deployed the Defense Production Act last year to give vaccine manufacturers priority in accessing crucial production supplies before anyone else could buy them. And the Biden administration used it to help Pfizer obtain specialized needles that can squeeze a sixth dose from the company’s vials, as well as for two critical manufacturing components: filling pumps and tangential flow filtration units. The pumps help supply the lipid nanoparticles that hold and protect the mRNA — the vaccines’ active ingredient, so to speak — and also fill vials with finished vaccine. The filtration units remove unneeded solutions and other materials used in the manufacturing process.

These highly precise pieces of equipment are not typically available on demand, said Matthew Johnson, senior director of product management at Duke University’s Human Vaccine Institute, who works on developing mRNA vaccines, but not for COVID-19. “Right now, there is so much growth in biopharmaceuticals, plus the pinch of the pandemic,” he said. “Many equipment suppliers are sold out of production, and even products scheduled to be made, in some cases, sold out for a year or so looking forward.”

In the meantime, the shortage of vaccines is creating widespread frustration and anxiety as eligible people struggle to get appointments and millions of others wonder how long it will be before it is their turn. As of Feb. 17, the U.S. had distributed 72.4 million doses and administered 56.3 million shots, but fewer than 16 million people have received both of the two doses that the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines require for full protection.

The Biden administration has said it is increasing vaccine shipments to states by 20%, to 13.5 million doses a week, and encouraged states to give out all their shots instead of holding on to some for second doses. But now that second-dose appointments are coming due, many jurisdictions are having to focus on those and stepping back from vaccinating uninoculated people. Even as the total number of vaccinations increased last week, the number of first doses fell to 6.8 million people, down from 7.8 million three weeks ago, according to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention data.

At best, it will take until June for manufacturers to deliver enough doses for the roughly 266 million eligible Americans age 16 and over, according to public statements by the companies.

That includes expected deliveries of Johnson & Johnson’s one-dose vaccine, which is widely expected to win emergency authorization from the FDA shortly after a public advisory committee meeting on Feb. 26. But Johnson & Johnson has fallen behind in manufacturing. The company told the GAO it will have only 2 million doses ready to go by the time the vaccine is authorized, whereas its $1 billion contract with HHS scheduled 12 million doses by the end of February. It’s not clear what held up Johnson & Johnson’s production line; the company has benefited from first-priority purchases thanks to the DPA, according to a senior executive close to the manufacturing process. A Johnson & Johnson spokesman declined to comment on the cause of the delay, but said the company still expects to ship 100 million U.S. doses by July.

Moderna declined to comment on “operational aspects” of its manufacturing, but “does remain confident in our ability to meet contracted quantities” of its vaccine to the U.S. and other nations, a spokesperson said in a statement. Pfizer did not respond to ProPublica’s written questions.

Ramping up production is especially challenging for Pfizer and Moderna, whose vaccines use an mRNA technology that’s never been mass-produced before. The companies started production even before they finished trials to see if the vaccines worked, another historic first. But it wasn’t as if they could instantly crank out millions of vaccines full blast, since they effectively had to invent a novel manufacturing process.

“Putting together plans 12 months ago for a Phase 1 and 2 trial, and making enough to dose a couple hundred patients, was a big deal for the raw material suppliers,” said Johnson, the product manager at Duke University’s vaccine institute. “It’s just going from dosing hundreds of patients a year ago to a billion.”

Raw materials for the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines are also in limited supply. The manufacturing process begins by using common gut bacteria cells to grow something called “plasmids” — standalone snippets of DNA — that contain instructions to make the vaccine’s genetic material, said Pancorbo, the North Carolina State University biomanufacturing expert.

Next, specific enzymes cultivated from bacteria are added to cause a chemical reaction that assembles the strands of mRNA, Pancorbo said. Those strands are then packaged in lipid nanoparticles, microscopic bubbles of fat made using petroleum or plant oils. The fat bubbles protect the genetic material inside the human body and help deliver it to the cells.

Only a few firms specialize in making these ingredients, which have previously been sold by the kilogram, Pancorbo said. But they’re now needed by the metric ton — a thousandfold increase. Moderna and Pfizer need bulk, but also the highest possible quality.

“There are a number of organizations that make these enzymes and these nucleotides and lipids, but they might not make it in a grade that is satisfactory for human consumption,” Pancorbo said. “It might be a grade that is satisfactory for animal consumption or research. But for injection into a human? That’s a different thing.”

Johnson & Johnson’s vaccine follows a slightly more traditional method of growing cells in large tanks called bioreactors. This takes time, and the slightest contamination can spoil a whole batch. Since the process deals with living things, it can be more like growing plants than making shoes. “Maximizing yield is as much of an art as it is a science, as the manufacturing process itself is dependent on biological processes,” said Parker, the former HHS official.

The vaccine developers are continuing to find tweaks that can expedite production without cutting corners. Pfizer is now delivering six doses in each vial instead of five, and Moderna has asked for permission to fill each of its bottles with 15 doses, up from 10. If regulators approve, it would take two or three months to change over production, Moderna spokesman Ray Jordan said on Feb. 13.

“It helps speed up and lighten the logistical side of getting vaccines out,” said Lawrence Ganti, president of SiO2, an Alabama company that makes glass vials for the Moderna vaccine. SiO2 expanded production with $143 million in funding from the federal government last year, and Ganti said there aren’t any hiccups at his end of the line.

Despite the possibility of sporadic bottlenecks and delays in the coming months, companies appear to have lined up their supply chains to the point that they’re comfortable with their ability to meet current production targets.

Massachusetts-based Snapdragon Chemistry received almost $700,000 from HHS’ Biomedical Advanced Research and Development Authority to develop a new way of producing ribonucleoside triphosphates (NTPs), a key raw material for mRNA vaccines. Snapdragon’s technology uses a continuous production line, rather than the traditional process of making batches in big vats, so it’s easier to scale up by simply keeping production running for a longer time.

Suppliers have told Snapdragon that they have their raw materials covered for now, according to Matthew Bio, the company’s president and CEO. “They’re saying, ‘We have established suppliers to meet the demand we have for this year,'” Bio said.

Joe Biden needs to emulate FDR and LBJ — but so far, he’s not even close

It is no exaggeration to say that the fate of America, and perhaps the world, depends on Joe Biden being a successful president — and, beyond that, by most definitions a successful liberal president. We are less than six weeks into his administration, but so far he has not risen to the occasion. The stakes could hardly be higher.

To illustrate the challenge facing our current president, it may be helpful to compare him to the two most successful liberal presidents in American history: Franklin D. Roosevelt and Lyndon B. Johnson.

Roosevelt, as I wrote last week, had to govern America during the Great Depression and World War II. To address the former, he passed a panoply of ambitious progressive legislation which he lumped together under the name the New Deal. The underlying premise of the New Deal, as Pulitzer Prize-winning historian David Kennedy has observed, was that everyone should have a certain degree of economic security. (FDR later attempted to codify this concept when he proposed an economic bill of rights.) Roosevelt sought to achieve this through what scholars refer to as the “3 Rs”: recovery for the economy, relief for the poor and unemployed and reform of the financial system to avoid another catastrophic financial and economic collapse.

The results of his efforts included landmark legislation that created Social Security, numerous federal jobs programs, laws to regulate banking and finance and new protections for labor unions. Roosevelt furthered these policies after Pearl Harbor forced the U.S. to enter World War II, eventually bringing the economy to full employment even as he helped the Allies defeat Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan.

Johnson has a distinctly checkered legacy, largely because of his disastrous escalation of the Vietnam War, and was viewed as a major villain by the radical left of the 1960s. But Biden could learn a lot from the things LBJ did right on social and economic issues. He passed the landmark civil rights laws of the 1960s (which touched everything from voting rights, job discrimination and segregation to housing rights and immigration policy), created the Medicare and Medicaid programs, strengthened consumer protections and increased federal funding to education and the arts. By declaring and implementing a “war on poverty,” Johnson’s “Great Society” programs attempted to combat the global threat of Communism by establish as a fundamental tenet of American life that no one should ever be poor, for any reason. LBJ was also far ahead of the curve on environmental issues, and understood that protecting air and water quality, and preserving wilderness areas and endangered species, was about more than conserving natural resources. As he presciently warned Congress in 1965, “the air we breathe, our water, our soil and wildlife, are being blighted by poisons and chemicals which are the by-products of technology and industry.”

None of this is meant to excuse or downplay the more troubling aspects of Roosevelt and Johnson’s presidencies. LBJ’s expansion of the U.S. war in Southeast Asia had catastrophic long-term consequences, and FDR’s decision to intern Japanese-American citizens during World War II was an especially shameful episode in the history of American racism. Roosevelt or Johnson were far from being ideal presidents or perfect human beings, but when it came to using presidential power to address the critical issues of their time, they were remarkably successful.

This brings us to Joe Biden. Unlike Roosevelt and Johnson, Biden does not have overwhelming Democratic majorities in Congress behind him. FDR took office in 1933 after a historic wave election, with Democrats holding a 313-117 advantage in the House and 58 of the 96 seats in the Senate. After Johnson’s landslide victory in 1964, Democrats actually held 68 Senate seats, the last time any party has held a two-thirds supermajority.

In other words, whatever those two presidents wanted from Congress, they would almost certainly get, whereas the 50-50 Senate and narrow Democratic House majority of 2021 present quite a different picture. Republicans can block Biden’s proposed legislation through the filibuster, and individual centrist Democrats — most notably, Sen. Kyrsten Sinema of Arizona and Sen. Joe Manchin of West Virginia — have the power to force major concessions from the president. To make matters much worse, many elected Republicans remain loyal to Donald Trump and committed to undermining Biden’s legitimacy. Roosevelt and Johnson did not have the bad luck of defeating the only president or presidential candidate in U.S. history who has refused to accept losing an election.

Yet the crises facing Biden are at least as serious as those that Roosevelt and Johnson had to face. Like them, he may need to resort to extraordinary measures, which will lead the opposition to accuse him of being a dictator, a communist or worse. That is to be expected; similar things were said about Roosevelt and Johnson. It doesn’t matter. Leaders are guided by their understanding of what needs to be done, not their fear of what names their enemies will call them. 

First and foremost, Biden needs to lead America through the latter stages of the COVID-19 pandemic, which Trump made dramatically worse, and which became the single greatest factor in his 2020 defeat. He also has to address continued racial injustice and social discord, in some ways similar to the domestic strife Johnson confronted, as well as something troubling and new: a homegrown fascist movement, cultivated by his immediate predecessor. On the economic front, he needs to create opportunities for millions who have either been chronically unemployed since the 2008 recession or thrown out of work by the pandemic. He must address the staggering levels of income inequality that have existed in America for decades and only worsened during the pandemic. Finally, and most important, he must play a central role in addressing the planetary catastrophe of the climate crisis, which threatens the literal extinction of our species (and many others).

Biden clearly cannot be pass legislation as easily as Roosevelt and Johnson, but when Congress and the courts come up short, he has other methods at his disposal for getting things done.

As David Dayen of the American Prospect argued in 2019, the existing laws used by Trump to change the country in his image can also be used by Biden:

Without signing a single new law, the next president can lower prescription drug prices, cancel student debt, break up the big banks, give everybody who wants one a bank account, counteract the dominance of monopoly power, protect farmers from price discrimination and unfair dealing, force divestment from fossil fuel projects, close a slew of tax loopholes, hold crooked CEOs accountable, mandate reductions of greenhouse gas emissions, allow the effective legalization of marijuana, make it easier for 800,000 workers to join a union, and much, much more.

Indeed, the executive branch has so much power in our unbalanced system that Biden — if he has enough vision and imagination — could take bold strides in addressing systemic racism within law enforcement complex, guarantee the rights of other marginalized groups, create a permanent infrastructure for fighting pandemics and use the Justice Department to cripple the extremist far right and its offshoots. He can prioritize issues like worker retraining and job creation, strategically choosing when to use his bully pulpit to make sure that Democrats are unified around the issues that can only be addressed through legislation. Where laws do not exist to allow Biden to properly serve the American people, he can resort, as Barack Obama often did, to the use of executive orders. These can be easier to overturn by a subsequent president, and are definitely less effective than taking advantage of existing executive powers, but can serve to plug the gaps left open by existing laws. This could be particularly true when it comes to issues like fixing the environment and reforming our immigration system.

How is Biden doing so far? His record is mixed — and that’s being generous.

He certainly deserves credit for his early policies in addressing COVID-19 and climate change. He has prioritized listening to scientists rather than right-wing kooks and corporate CEOs. But he has specifically disavowed pushing for a Green New Deal that would permanently protect our environment and restructure the economy, and has been unwilling simply to pay people to stay at home until the pandemic ends, which would be the quickest and most effective way to both contain the virus and provide short-term economic security until everyone can be vaccinated. His proposed stimulus bill would only give Americans modest and temporary relief — expanding unemployment benefits through August, adding $400 per week to unemployment insurance and giving $1,400 checks to most Americans and their dependents — and he has outright refused to pursue bolder economic reforms, even when opinion polls suggest they are broadly popular.

For instance, even though voters overwhelmingly favor the cancellation of at least $50,000 in student debt, and Biden clearly has the power to do this, he has said he won’t. His eviction moratoriums have so many holes that millions of Americans may face eviction regardless of the administration’s stated policy goals. On a broader level, Biden accepts the givens of late-stage neoliberal capitalism as fixed realities that cannot be challenged. Without major structural reform of our economic system, the watered-down reforms he is pushing for, even if enacted, will be built on a foundation of quicksand.

There are two likely reasons for Biden’s timidity. The first is that he is hostage to the Democratic Party’s big donors, and to the neoliberal ideology that has gripped the party since Bill Clinton’s presidency, when Democrats became allied with Wall Street finance for the first time. The Democratic Party is less dogmatically pro-corporate than its Republican counterparts, but it rejects any profound or systematic critique of capitalism. When it briefly appeared that Sen. Bernie Sanders, a self-described democratic socialist, might win the 2020 Democratic nomination in 2020, the party establishment unified behind Biden, with startling suddenness. If Biden were willing to overturn the economic status quo, he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near the White House in the first place.

One big reason that happened is Democrats’ ingrained belief that if they embrace aggressive liberal policies, they will lose elections. (This is largely based on the traumatic defeat of George McGovern in the 1972 election, a special case in several respects.) The examples of Roosevelt and Johnson suggest otherwise. Roosevelt was elected president four times, never winning less than 53 percent of the popular vote or fewer than 432 electoral votes. Johnson became president after John F. Kennedy was assassinated, and in the 1964 election won more than 61 percent of the popular vote (the largest proportion in U.S. history) and 486 electoral votes. These two presidents won massive victories precisely by embracing major reforms, and convincing a large majority of Americans those reforms would improve their lives in tangible and meaningful ways.

If Biden’s career and historical reputation were the only things at stake here, it wouldn’t much matter that he can’t live up to the admittedly high presidential standards of an FDR or LBJ. But defeating Donald Trump once was only the first step in saving America. If Biden and the Democrats fail over the next four years, they may not get another chance. Republicans control 20 of the 28 state legislatures needed for redistricting in 2021, meaning they will certainly try to gerrymander themselves into indefinite power. The GOP has also introduced more than 100 bills in state legislatures so far this year aimed at suppressing Democratic votes. Donald Trump Jr. recently urged Republicans to stop “losing gracefully,” a signal toward the new GOP strategy of delegitimizing any election that Democrats win. While Democrats are trying to fight back with their own voting reforms, those won’t be enough unless they can convince a critical mass of Americans that they are pursuing real, systemic change that will improve both the quality of life and the standard of living. Good government — of the kind people notice, understand and appreciate — is the best strategy for winning elections. 

If Republicans regain power in the next electoral cycle or the one after that, it won’t be enough to practice normal politics and await another shot to pry power out of their hands. Our nation and our planet face a ticking clock. Scientists estimate that climate change alone is likely to pass an apocalyptic threshold sometime between 2027 and 2042; chemical pollution that causes infertility and other health problems on a mass scale are also likely to reach critical mass within the next couple of decades. The planet is sending up red flags: The World Wildlife Fund recently reported that population sizes of mammals, birds, amphibians, reptiles and fish have plummeted by 68 percent since 1970.

In other words, Joe Biden’s presidency may be our last, best hope, as dire as that sounds. As with FDR and LBJ before him, failure is simply not an option. If his administration does not rise to the challenge, the improving quality of life and expanding economy of the last several centuries, which most of us have taken for granted, may vanish forever. 

Texas plants released nearly as much pollution during winter storm as during Hurricane Laura

Oil refineries, chemical manufacturers, and petrochemical plants across Texas — mostly in the upper Gulf Coast — warned state regulators that they may have released millions of pounds of pollutants and greenhouse gases into the air due to last week’s winter storm.

The arctic freeze in Texas claimed the lives of dozens of Texans, and more than 4.5 million customers were without power for days last week due to blackouts implemented by the state’s grid operator. Plants tripping offline in the extreme cold led the Electric Reliability Council of Texas to order power outages to avoid overloading the grid.

The storm and power outages also hit industrial plants, mostly those that produce products derived from oil and natural gas, such as gasoline, diesel and the building blocks of plastic. Those facilities spewed 3.5 million pounds of additional pollution in the air during the power crisis, according to an analysis of notices by Texas environmental groups Environmental Defense Fund, Environment Texas and Air Alliance Houston.

That’s nearly as much air pollution released last summer during Hurricane Laura, when facilities in the Beaumont and Port Arthur area reported releasing an estimated 4 million pounds of emissions, according to the Houston Chronicle.

Industrial plants typically shut down in advance of hurricanes to keep workers safe, avoid spills and prevent even worse emissions. Many plants did the same ahead of Winter Storm Uri, but emergency shutdowns still caused a significant amount of pollutants and climate-warming greenhouse gases such as nitrogen oxides, carbon dioxide, and volatile organic compounds.

During emergency shutdowns, and the subsequent re-starts when a storm passes, chemical plants and refineries typically emit pollution well above what their state permits allow as they burn off waste gases.

Power outages and system failures also contributed to excess emissions, companies said in their reports to the state.

Nearly 200 facilities in 54 counties reported excess air emissions between Feb. 11 and Monday, according to the analysis.

“Texas is not ready for increasingly extreme weather, and the state’s failure to prepare is hurting communities, especially those near high-risk chemical facilities,” Elena Craft, senior director for climate and health at Environmental Defense Fund, said in a statement.

Neighborhoods near industrial facilities are often majority Black and Latino in Texas due to the legacy of government-imposed segregation and wealth inequality, which in turn has resulted in disproportionate health impacts from air pollution for Black and Latino residents.

One study by University of Washington and University of Minnesota researchers found that Black and Hispanic populations experience over 50% more pollution than they generate, while white populations experience 17% less pollution than they generate.

The Texas Commission on Environmental Quality, the state’s environmental regulatory agency, reported power failures at 39 of its more than 200 air quality monitors, including 14 in the Houston area, according to a storm report by the Environmental Protection Agency. The monitors were all operational as of Sunday, according to the TCEQ. The agency deployed additional mobile air monitoring vans to sample pollutants this week.

Disclosure: Air Alliance Houston and the Environmental Defense Fund have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune’s journalism. Find a complete list of them here.

The Texas Tribune is a member-supported, nonpartisan newsroom informing and engaging Texans on state politics and policy. Learn more at texastribune.org.

Who made Joe Manchin “The Decider”? West Virginia’s centrist senator has way too much clout

We spent hundreds of millions, talked endlessly, suffered generally insulting campaigns to elect a president, withstood months afterward of one side denying results and endured an attack on the U.S. Capitol.

Where in all this was the decision to elect the winner to be Sen. Joe Manchin, D-W.Va.?

Forget competing personalities, ideologies, even skills. What we effectively have wrought is that the decisions about whether we extend unemployment or try to save restaurants or pay to widen federal research into coronavirus mutations don’t sit in the White House or in the leading majority leaders of Congress. It is with Manchin. He is the self-described centrist, so moderate a Democrat that he is always a threat to vote for Republican policies. He hails from a state that he sees as unready to embrace climate change or big investment in recovery. And, as we found out this week, a Biden Cabinet-level nominee.

Manchin says he is opposing Neera Tanden for the Office of Management and Budget because she tweeted too harshly about political opponents.

Maybe now he opposes the nomination of Rep. Deb Haaland, D-N.M., as secretary of Interior, who thinks drilling for oil on public lands is a bad idea. Manchin headed the committee holding this hearing.

As an aside, when compared with colleagues in the Congress who have tweeted and worked hard to ignore years of public insult tweets of Donald Trump, the argument against Tandem seems pretty limp.

Still, among Tanden’s tweet targets was Manchin’s daughter, Heather Bresch, former CEO of Mylan, a company that made EpiPens and raised its price substantially over 10 years. Bresch defended the higher prices as less than that of others and said she also raised financial assistance for patients.

The key vote?

It’s not so much that we may find ourselves agreeing or disagreeing with Manchin. But rather, we have given the car keys to a single individual who may be voting only to support the local interests of a 93% white state. It is a state still waiting for coal mining to come back, that votes Republican, that has the nation’s worst record on opiate usage and whose small business owners mostly reject raising the minimum wage.

With the U.S. Senate split down the middle, Manchin’s vote has become The Vote for a Democratic agenda, followed closely by the support of sorta Democrat Kyrsten Sinema of Arizona and one or two others. Indeed, one hears Manchin’s vote more linked to that of Maine Republican Susan Collins than to the Democratic majority.

Would an LBJ or even a Harry Reid have allowed the Senate majority to have allowed a critical vote like Manchin to run free from issue to issue, from more liberal to more conservative, but outside the party attitudes? No, they would have found a way to pressure his votes with something that West Virginia needs, like energy jobs, or found a threat that worked.  A weaker Chuck Schumer just seems to believe that repetition of arguments alone will win the day.

One friend proposes that Democrats offer a trade of Manchin to the Republicans, baseball style, for Collins or Lisa Murkowski of Alaska), though I doubt that Joe Biden or Schumer would count on that outcome as any more dependable.
Manchin is insisting that calling yourself a Democrat does not necessarily mean anything.

Most valuable target

Manchin has become the most sought-after target for lobbyists, reports The Hill, because he is seen as the swing vote in the 50-50 Senate on many bills and nominees. And he has to watch his own political back in a Republican-leaning state.

Actually, only a small group of former staffers and ex-senators-turned-lobbyists have a chance to influence Manchin, who prefers to listen to groups that have established direct interests in West Virginia. That has included more liberal groups like the Poor People’s Campaign and unions, or those with ties to local businesses.

It’s also true that Manchin voted with the Trump administration half the time.

Manchin, fully aware of his sudden celebrity status, talks a lot about the need for bipartisanship and listening to the other side, no matter what it is, before coming out with what he sees as his more common-sense solutions. It all must come as a bit of upbraiding for Biden, who considers himself a centrist, and floats the question of what it is that makes Manchin want to identify as Democrat in the first place.

“He’s kind of the Democratic version of John McCain,” Sen. Jon Tester, D-Mont., told Politico. “I say that partially in jest. But partially it’s true: Joe’s a hard guy to figure out how to lead. He dances to his own music.”

Actually, Manchin favors raising the minimum wage, but more slowly and as not part of a coronavirus aid bill. He generally favors gun rights, though he backs “sensible” registration efforts, and he opposes killing the Senate’s filibuster rules to make decision-making into simple majority votes. He sleeps on a houseboat, occasionally swigs moonshine from a jar, was a college football quarterback and ran a coal brokerage before running for governor.

As The Washington Post noted, Manchin is a coal-country native come to power as Biden is proposing vast climate changes. As governor, he sued the Environmental Protection Agency. He has scuttled efforts to regulate greenhouse gas emissions, criticized the Paris climate agreement and famously shot a copy of a cap-and-trade carbon proposal full of lead. There’s nobody I know in my state that wants to drink dirty water, to breathe dirty air, I can assure you,” Manchin told the Post. “I’m as environmental as anyone else. I’m pretty rational, practical about it, too.”

The decider?

Based on reports from his Senate colleagues, Manchin often does succeed at changing minds, including getting Republicans Steve Daines of Montana and James Lankford of Oklahoma to stand down from their election challenges in the hours following the attack on the U.S. Capitol.

Manchin is the ultimate gradualist, making Biden look as if he is speeding toward some progressive goals in immigration, race relations, environment and economic policies aiming to reset built-in inequalities. Manchin’s support — and those middle positions on every sizable issue he brings with him — is the reason behind the agonizingly slow response from Congress on coronavirus and economy alike.

At least with the main body of Republicans in the Senate, we know there is straight opposition to virtually any Biden policy, and we expect the tight majority to work around whatever those limitations set. So, expect to see Sen. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt., the new head of the Budget Committee, for example, maneuvering to use the more arcane rules of reconciliation to move Democratic bills through the process.

But it is annoying to me to see a single individual, Democrat or Republican, insisting that he or she is the center of the political universe. It’s more annoying when I thought I had voted for the program of a party that I favored. I didn’t like it when Trump insisted that he was the sole voice to hear, even from the White House, I didn’t like it with chief obstructor Mitch McConnell deciding to forgo Senate votes on more than 300 House-passed bills.

Second former staffer accuses Andrew Cuomo of sexual harassment – NYT report

New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo has an expanding #MeToo crisis as he continues to be bogged down in a scandal over refusing to report COVID-19 nursing home deaths over fears of prosecution.

“A second former aide to Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo is accusing him of sexual harassment, saying that he asked her questions about her sex life, whether she was monogamous in her relationships and if she had ever had sex with older men,” Jesse McKinley of The New York Times reported Saturday.

“The aide, Charlotte Bennett, who was an executive assistant and health policy adviser in the Cuomo administration until she left in November, told The New York Times that the governor had harassed her late last spring, during the height of the state’s fight against the coronavirus,” the newspaper reported. “Ms. Bennett, 25, said the most unsettling episode occurred on June 5, when she was alone with Mr. Cuomo in his State Capitol office. In a series of interviews this week, she said the governor had asked her numerous questions about her personal life, including whether she thought age made a difference in romantic relationships, and had said that he was open to relationships with women in their 20s — comments she interpreted as clear overtures to a sexual relationship.”

Cuomo told The Times he “never made advances toward Ms. Bennett, nor did I ever intend to act in any way that was inappropriate.”

Bennet described how Cuomo’s conduct impacted her.

“I understood that the governor wanted to sleep with me, and felt horribly uncomfortable and scared,” Bennett said. “And was wondering how I was going to get out of it and assumed it was the end of my job.”

Rabies is terrifying but rare. Are we overtreating it?

Rabies is a terrifying disease. Once the virus enters a human host — typically by way of a bite from an infected animal — it creeps along from nerve cell to nerve cell until it reaches the brain. It usually takes a month or more for symptoms to show. But when they do, the ensuing illness is usually marked by chilling neurological signs: delirium, hallucinations, aggressiveness, and a combination of hydrophobia (often including an intolerance for swallowing water) and increased saliva production, which leads to the hallmark foaming at the mouth. The luckier patients slip into a coma. Death is virtually inevitable. There have been only 29 documented survivors of rabies worldwide, and most suffered long-term neurological damage.

Luckily, the disease is also almost completely preventable — as long as the wound is thoroughly cleaned and a preemptive treatment, known as post-exposure prophylaxis, or PEP, is administered as quickly as possible before symptoms set in. Yet, as a physician assistant at an urgent care center, I find that some patients forego PEP after suffering animal bites that potentially expose them to rabies. Others pursue PEP when it’s unlikely to be needed. Why?

As with many public health issues, the question is best understood in terms of costs and benefits. In the United States, the costs of rabies treatments are unnecessarily high, which may prevent lifesaving help from getting to the people who need it most. At the same time, the benefits of an individual treatment are difficult to estimate, so hasty decisions driven by fear of a deadly disease often result in PEP being recommended to the wrong patients.

It’s worth noting that rabies is extremely rare in the U.S. Thanks mostly to strides in pet vaccination, there were just 18 cases of rabies acquired within U.S. borders between 2009 and 2018. Since the canine-specific variant was eradicated in 2004, the remaining virus survives mainly in the wild, carried predominantly by bats, raccoons, and skunks. The disease is uncommon enough to have become a safe target for comedy: It was a punchline in a 2007 episode of “The Office.”

PEP treatments are expensive and time intensive. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates an average cost of $3,800 for the entire two-week course, not including fees for wound care and administration. Often the only place to get PEP is at a hospital emergency room, further adding to the tally. Some patients have reported medical bills exceeding $10,000. Even when insurance will cover the treatment, some bite victims decide it’s not worth the time and effort, given the vanishingly small chances that a bite will lead to rabies.

But many patients do opt for PEP — some 55,000 Americans per year, according to the CDC. Collectively, the U.S. spends more than $200 million a year on PEP, or at least $500,000 for each prevented case of rabies, according to one estimate. Are all of these treatments necessary?

Several studies suggest the answer is no. A study of more than 2,000 animal exposure cases at 11 urban emergency departments throughout the country in the late 1990s found that, of the 136 patients who were given PEP, 40 percent did not meet the CDC’s criteria for receiving the treatment. Some patients, for instance, were treated even though they were bitten by a dog or cat that could have been observed or a wild animal that could have been tested. (The study also identified 119 patients who were undertreated — not given PEP despite meeting the criteria for it. But all but one of those cases involved domestic animal bites, none of the patients developed rabies, and most were in low-risk regions where the study’s authors posited that guidelines could be safely relaxed.)

Likewise, a recent study in suburban Cook County, Illinois found that more than half of patients who received PEP were given the treatment unnecessarily. Another recent study in King County, Washington found a similar rate of overtreatment. If even one third of rabies PEP treatments are given unnecessarily, that would mean about $70 million is wasted each year.

What is the ethical approach to rabies prevention when the risk from any individual bite is vanishingly small, but the cost of a mistake is almost certain death? Real tradeoffs are involved, but public health guidelines often adopt a level of conservatism akin to buying hurricane insurance in Nebraska. In France, for instance, where rabies is even rarer than in the U.S., researchers estimated that the existing approach to rabies prevention costs more lives — due to fatal traffic accidents involving patients driving to treatment centers — than it saves.

Rabies treatment guidelines vary from state to state. Ostensibly, they reflect the differences in rabies strains and animal populations between regions in the U.S., but it can be hard to tell why two states’ recommendations differ. Compare Arkansas and Colorado: In Arkansas, if you are bitten by a pet dog and the attack wasn’t provoked and the animal can’t be found, the state recommends immediate rabies treatment. In Colorado, public health officials would instead recommend a thorough risk assessment based on the circumstances of the bite and where in the state it occurred. In each state, skunk and bat rabies predominate, and in each state a total of six dogs tested positive for rabies from 2013 to 2018.

While states make their own risk assessment decisions, all conform to the same PEP regimen: four doses of vaccine injected into the muscle at separate visits, plus several injections of antibodies around the wound at the first visit. This regimen is unnecessarily long and wastes precious vaccine. Techniques that inject vaccine into the skin rather than the underlying muscle, called intradermal shots, offer the same protection using less than half the amount of vaccine. Far from a fringe approach, a three-dose intradermal regimen for rabies PEP has been approved by the World Health Organization.

Despite this technological progress, public health authorities in the U.S. have been slow to adapt. The CDC’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices (ACIP), which endorsed the current regimen in 2010, will update its recommendations this year or next. Agam Rao, a CDC medical officer who co-leads the ACIP Rabies Work Group, said that members of the committee are considering a shorter regimen, but skepticism remains. And whereas the WHO had to weigh the costs and benefits in countries where resources are limited in making its decision, Rao says that the U.S. can move more deliberately. “There really need to be robust data to support changing those recommendations,” she said. “We can prioritize the data much more than maybe they could.”

To be sure, given the horrifying consequences of rabies, preventive measures must err on the side of overtreatment. “You must have overkill in rabies vaccine,” said Mary Warrell, a veteran rabies researcher from the University of Oxford. But Warrell, who has overseen some of the trials that point to the efficacy of shorter, cheaper PEP regimens, also criticized the U.S. approach: “It’s ridiculously expensive, and it’s an outdated regimen.”

A shorter and less wasteful protocol in the U.S. would not only save money, it might free up resources to be used in countries with more rabies cases. Though rabies is rare in most of the rich world, it is an everyday threat in parts of Africa and Asia, where it kills an estimated 56,000 people a year. Many of those victims die because they cannot afford or cannot access vaccine and antibodies.

For the sake of the greater good, states should reexamine rabies guidelines with an eye toward relaxing them where it is safe to do so. In most cases, medical providers should consult with public health officials before recommending PEP. And when post-exposure prophylaxis is warranted, the treatment should be simplified by adopting a two or three-visit intradermal regimen, administered, when possible, in public health departments, primary care offices, or urgent care centers rather than emergency rooms. These simple changes based on sound science would enable the U.S. to keep overdoing it — but with less waste and lower costs.

* * *

Gustav Cappaert is a physician assistant based in Black Mountain, North Carolina.

This article was originally published on Undark. Read the original article.

Josh Hawley’s hometown paper scorches his CPAC speech that called for a “new nationalism”

On Saturday, The Kansas City Star editorial board scorched Sen. Josh Hawley (R-MO) for his far-right speech at the 2021 Conservative Political Action Conference in Orlando, Florida — and in particular, his insinuation that historians, academics, and politicians who want to highlight the role of slavery and white supremacy in American history hate our country and culture.

“‘Part of pushing back against liberals,’ he told the crowd, ‘is reclaiming our history and saying it is good and we are proud to be Americans. We’re proud to have come to live in a country that started with nothing and became the greatest country on the face of the Earth. We’re proud to live in a country that liberated slaves,'” wrote the board. “Seriously? This is the very first thing for which we need to stand up and take a bow? Because it seems to some of us that no one should ever have tried to own other human beings to begin with.”

“We didn’t so much start with nothing as we stole what was here before we got here from Native Americans,” wrote the board. “And when we did end slavery, after a war in which the Confederacy — whose heroes Hawley defends — fought to preserve it, we were awfully late coming around. And then did everything possible, through Jim Crow laws, to keep things as inequitable as they had been. This doesn’t mean we hate America; it means we recognize reality, and see the need to learn from it.”

The board took a swipe at Hawley for calling for “a new nationalism” under the guise of a “country boy” — even though he is the son of a wealthy banker whose own hometown is split over him — and highlighted the dark undertones of his concluding comment, “America now, America first, America forever!”

“As Republican Wyoming Rep. Liz Cheney said recently, ‘America First’ does sound familiar, and not in a good way,” wrote the board, drawing a parallel to the phrase’s use by Nazi sympathizers in the 1930s. “‘Segregation now, segregation forever,’ Alabama Gov. George Wallace said in 1963. That, too, was winked at in Hawley’s ugly address. Hawley, Stanford history major, is not ignorant of any of the above, shocked as he pretends to be that anyone else would acknowledge it.”

“America is not hopelessly divided,” concluded the board, “but that’s no thanks to Hawley.”

You can read more here.

 

My night in Judgement House, the church play about hell that made me a teenage born-again zealot

When I was 11 years old, I discovered that hell was a real place and that I was going there. 

This was in 1998—the year “Titanic” won 11 Oscars and the year I spent six months trying (and failing) to hit the high note in “My Heart Will Go On.” For Halloween, I was invited to go to Judgement House. I had no idea what it was, but I liked how ominous it sounded. I pictured a gothic house on a hilltop lit by bolts of lightning, scored with spooky organ music.

Instead, I arrived at an overcrowded megachurch parking lot. 

Judgement House is an immersive church play about death, judgment and the afterlife. Think “Sleep No More” meets Dante’s “Inferno,” as interpreted by Franklin Graham. Today, there are at least 25 different trademarked Judgement House scripts, but they’re all basically the same. A character faces a crisis in their lives and receives the chance to accept Jesus as their Lord and savior. Shortly thereafter, they die and face judgment. Death, in a Judgement House, is never a quiet or peaceful thing. Characters die in car crashes, drug overdoses, mass shootings, and bombings. They die during kidnappings gone wrong, natural disasters, and home invasions. They die by cancer, carbon monoxide poisoning, and house fires. Yet what comes after death is far worse—unless the character chooses to accept Jesus.

I grew up in a small, predominantly evangelical community in Alabama. But my parents weren’t religious, and I wasn’t raised in the church. Whatever ideas I had about religion came from pop culture—Whoopi Goldberg teaching choir in nun’s robes, those angels who loved baseball in “Angels in the Outfield.” I believed in God, but in a general sort of way. To me, God was like Santa Claus—a benevolent bearded man who monitored whether I cleaned my room and made good grades. But by the time I left the Judgement House, I was a true, born-again zealot.

Inside the Judgement House, the story began with death. Our guide, a reedy-voiced woman with a flashlight and glow-in-the-dark sneakers, led us into a room done up like a funeral parlor—a casket on a bier, a spray of potent-smelling flowers. The guide told us that inside the casket was a young man—17 years old, a high school senior—who had died in a car crash the night before. Actors playing his parents entered the room accompanied by other characters—their pastor, their younger daughter, and several of the dead boy’s friends. They talked about what kind of person the dead-boy character had been—a good student, a star athlete, a leader in his youth group. After the funeral service, when everyone else had exited the room, the dead boy emerged from the casket. An angel arrived to escort him to the gates of Heaven to be judged. 

We followed the boy and the angel into the next room, where a robed and bearded man stood at a podium with an enormous book. A film of fog unfurled over the floor. The bearded man announces that the boy’s name is not in the Book of Life. The boy protested—he’s a good person, he goes to church every week, he even volunteers with the homeless! None of that matters, the man told him. He never sincerely accepted Jesus into his heart, and so he cannot enter the Kingdom. With a bang, a pair of black-hooded figures appeared to drag him away. 

As theater, it’s remarkably bad—heavy-handed, comically melodramatic, hackneyed. But to my 11-year-old self, it was electric. I sprinted to the front of the group as we followed the boy and his infernal guards down a dark corridor. Up next was the showstopper moment of every Judgement House production: Hell. 

Here’s how I remember it: a vast black room, punctured by flashing lights and shrieks. A cold gray smoke swirled around me, obscuring the walls, my feet. The ceiling was so high I couldn’t see it—high enough to magnify every sound, every scream. The noise kept building and building until it was part of the fabric of the room, inextricable from the air and the smoke. Satan—horned, hooved—strode across a dais, backlit in red. He looked right at me. When he spoke, his voice seemed to come from everywhere at once—rough and strangely intimate. I felt it in every part of my body. He said that I already belonged to him. He said that he had been waiting for me for a long time. 

By the time our guide led us toward a softly lit staircase, I could hardly breathe. More than once I nearly tripped and my friend had to support me up the steps.

Our final stop was a Sunday school classroom, where a team of “Christian counselors” stood at the ready. They all wore matching neon green t-shirts with the church’s name and logo printed over their hearts. A man with a neat, ice-gray beard and pastorly air about him stepped forward. He asked us what he called the single most important question of our lives: “Where will you spend eternity?” 

*  *  *

After that night, I joined a church and started reading the Bible every day. I wore my WWJD bracelet to school and prayed before unwrapping my Lunchable in the cafeteria. My parents were perplexed by my conversion, to say the least. Still, every Wednesday night, my mother drove me to youth group and waited in the car with a stack of Sudoku puzzles until I came back out again, flushed with the Spirit and still humming “Shout to the Lord.” 

Over the next few months, my beliefs grew more and more extreme. I became fixated on the apocalypse and the Second Coming. I devoured the Book of Revelation. I looked for clues and ciphers, hoping for proof that Jesus was coming back soon. I convinced myself that the world would end in the year 2000, which meant that the Rapture would happen any day now. I was so certain that I even wrote a letter to my parents for them to find after I disappeared. In it, I explained that Jesus had taken me up into Heaven ahead of the end of the world. I told them how to get saved so that they could join me after the Great Tribulation. A few days after I wrote the letter, I destroyed it—I was starting to sound unhinged even to myself. 

Of course, I wasn’t raptured. The year 2000 came and went and the world didn’t end. I started to question the literal interpretations of the Bible that I was taught in church. What if all the talk about angels and trumpets and fire from Heaven was meant to be symbolic? What if it was just another parable like the mustard seed or the pearl of great price? What did that mean about the Hell portrayed in the Judgement House? Around the same time, I also started to notice some of the un-Christian words and actions of my church’s ministry team. Like when youth leaders shamed girls who didn’t live up to exacting purity standards, but never the boys. Or when the pastor preached a fiery sermon against homosexuality, with thinly veiled references to my gay best friend, who happened to be sitting in the pew next to me. After that, I stopped going to church altogether. I still believed in God, but my faith’s intensity was gone. Not because I stopped believing—but because I no longer felt at home with other believers. 

A few years later, when I went to college, I found a community where I did feel at home, a mix of campus queers, sci-fi geeks, goth club kids and literature nerds. Like me, a lot of them had come from fundamentalist religious backgrounds and had also rejected their faiths’ hardline doctrines. Most of them had renounced religion altogether, seeing it only as a tool of fear and oppression. After my own experience with my former church and the Judgement House, I had to agree with them. Whenever religion came up as a topic of conversation, I would jokingly call myself a “recovering Southern Baptist.” Of course, behind the joke was a kernel of truth—I still felt the pull of the divine, a yearning for it, but regarded it as something that, like an addictive substance, held destructive powers for me. With no real models for a healthy spiritual life, I decided it was better to do without religion altogether. 

Yet even after I had given up on Christianity, the old fear of the Hell I’d seen in the Judgement House still had a way of popping up again at critical moments of my life. During the months when I started to figure out I was queer, I heard snatches of my old pastor’s homophobic sermon in my head. The first time I flew in an airplane after I came out, every time turbulence rattled the cabin I had to fight back the wild thought that because I was gay now, God would cause the plane to crash. Rationally, I knew that was nonsense, but everything I learned in church told me that if I embraced my queer identity, I would face some kind of punishment. It was a night flight, and I can still remember looking out of the window at the glowing patchwork of cities and highways down below. The captain kept climbing higher and higher, looking for smoother air. I was about as close to the mythic heaven as one can get this side of the grave, and instead of wonder or excitement about my life’s new possibilities, all I felt was fear of divine recrimination. I knew that something had to change. I didn’t want to have to choose between living authentically as myself and having a fulfilling spiritual life anymore. 

I started looking for an alternative to the fundamentalist doctrine of my former church. After a lot of research into the histories and beliefs of various church denominations, I decided to visit a Quaker meetinghouse one Sunday morning. I grew curious about Quakers—also known as the Religious Society of Friends—after I learned that Quakers have openly affirmed LGBTQ rights and equality since at least 1963, making them one of the earliest denominations to do so. When I arrived, I found a small group of people gathered together in a small, upstairs room overlooking an oak-lined avenue. The meeting had already started, and everyone sat in a circle of metal folding chairs, eyes closed in silent meditation. Most Quaker services are “unprogrammed,” meaning that there is no sermon, or readings, or hymns. Instead, members sit together in silence to listen for the “Inward Light.” Anyone who feels moved to share something that comes to them in the silence is free to do so. There is no designated preacher; everyone shares in ministry when they are called to do so. During my first visit, only one person spoke during the silence. A tall man with a thick red beard and a gentle voice stood and briefly shared an image that he said had kept coming back to him all morning, of “a mother bird, gathering her chicks under her wings to protect them from the rain.” 

His message, as simple as it was, couldn’t have been more different from the message of the Judgement House. Instead of threats of damnation and punishment, here was an image of comfort, protection and care. I knew right away that I had found a new spiritual home. 

Recently, I Googled Judgement House to see if it’s still around. As it turns out, it is—and like every other terrible thing, it’s made its way onto YouTube. I watched clips from various productions and was shocked at how little they held up to my memory. Hell isn’t a nightmare chasm, I could see now, full of souls in torment. It’s a church basement rigged with strobe lights and a fog machine. Satan is just a sweaty man with a neckbeard and cheesy blacklight contacts. It’s hard to believe I let something so cheap and cruel scare me away from a meaningful spirituality for so long.

As an adult, it’s much easier to spot the zipper on the monster’s costume. While it’s tempting to laugh at it, it’s hard not to feel angry on behalf of my younger self—and on behalf of any kid, queer or not, who’s had the life scared out of them in a cynical bid to “save their soul.” The marketing material on the Judgment House website measures the program’s efficacy in the number of people who either commit or rededicate themselves to Christ after viewing the production. The site claims that Judgement Houses are “one of the only evangelistic tools to see 10% of its participants make a first time profession of faith.” Basically, Judgement House uses the framework of capitalism as a model for spiritual life: manufacture fear of Hell, then sell salvation as the way to get to Heaven.

Setting aside the emptiness and moral bankruptcy of such an approach to spirituality, the present world can be frightening enough on its own, without adding in the specter of eternal damnation in the afterlife. Climate change, the violence of systemic racism, the pandemic—these real threats facing us are much more terrifying than anything in the Judgement House. Of course, not everyone turns to faith during times of difficulty, but my hope for those who do is that they’re able to find a practice that is not steeped in cruelty, judgment and fear. Religion at its worst has the power to add to the sum total of fear and suffering the world. But at its best, it can be a source of comfort and solace, like a mother bird spreading her wings over her chicks.

A love letter to all the produce I haven’t picked

The last time I set foot in a grocery store — and my beloved produce department — was probably four months ago, just before COVID-19 numbers spiked in my home city of Chicago and sent us back into partial lockdown. Since then, I’ve queasily relinquished all grocery shopping to strangers with names like Shaun, Ruth and Amber, who shop dozens of orders daily for supermarkets directly or third-party couriers. 

I’m grateful for this pricey convenience in a time of health-mandated house arrest, but I’ve never really gotten used to having someone else pick my produce. I watch helplessly as Marc with a “C” moves items to the shopped column. Did he thoroughly examine the arugula box for leaves with liquidy brown edges? Did he spot the little wrinkles near the jalapeño stem hinting it’s past its prime? I want to believe he did.

In non-pandemic times, loitering in the produce section is equal parts compulsion and pleasure for me. I wander amid neat rows of cabbages, stacks of bundled herbs and cascading heaps of apples — aimlessly, my husband might argue. But I prefer to think of it as highly complex grocery foraging: I squeeze, compare and sniff for the choicest of everything on the list, while internally conjuring theoretical meals to justify all the off-list items I seem to have grabbed along the way. 

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“I think we got all the salad stuff,” he says, eyeing the two massive bunches of escarole I just dropped into a cart already laden with two ruffly butter lettuces, a huge box of baby spinach, a bundle of kale and a pert little radicchio. I confidently reply (because I’ve rehearsed it), “I’m going to make that rigatoni with wilted escarole and meatballs.” 

Over the past year, we’ve repeatedly grappled with the overwhelming devastation and loss of a deadly pandemic. But we might overlook some of the more insidious ways COVID has robbed us of life’s smaller, visceral joys — like, say, manhandling every last melon in the produce department or inhaling the tart perfume of a pint of peak-ripe raspberries. Understandably, we have to curb these kinds of impulses in a time when noses and bare hands might as well be radioactive. 

This reality sunk in for me pretty theatrically, with what I’ve been calling “the peach incident.” It was fairly early in both the pandemic and our fleeting Upper Midwestern peach season. I scanned the display for that reddish-tinged Goldilocks, plucked one and drew it to my condomed nose: nothing, meaning the inside was tasteless, mealy and horrible. As I lowered the spongy affront back toward the pile, I locked eyes with another shopper who fixed me with a — clearly, I thought — judgmental stare. Panicked, I dropped the trash-peach into my bag, grabbed a few more for insurance and moved on. (Postmortem: Only one tasted passable.)

I’ve had similar pandemic-shopping fails all over the produce department, rush-picking tomatoes with critter holes in the bottoms and grabbing half-smushed avocados to avoid handling them. Before long, I realized I hadn’t really picked anything in months. Why was I clinging to my neutered agency? 

I’ve come to think of this poor facsimile of grocery shopping a little like eating inside at a restaurant during a pandemic. Why put the (mostly hourly) staff of essential workers even more at risk for something that pales in comparison to the sumptuous real thing? Better to stay home, order pickup or delivery — direct when possible — and tip generously. 

It’s not all bad. Once, just once, I got paired up with the me of Instacart shoppers, named Paul. I assumed my usual anxious post, watching the “to shop” list tick down, when he messaged me: “Do you prefer your avocados ready to eat or a bit underripe?” Minutes later, the cherry tomatoes looked subpar; would I prefer these taught, faultless tomatoes on the vine he sent me a photo of? By the time he asked me if I meant to select two heads instead of two pounds of broccoli, I started crying, adjusted his tip to 25% and debated asking for his cell phone number so he could shop for me again. (Thankfully, my husband advised this was inappropriate.) 

They can’t all be Paul, so these days I build grocery lists more defensively: with sturdy greens like romaine and collards, apples, hearty brassicas and lots of storage-ready root vegetables. More importantly, though, I care way less about using middling produce than I once did. I blitz half-turnt arugula into pesto, blister old-ass green beans in a skillet and toss them in chile crisp, and I use the questionable remains of my dark greens to make 15-minute saag paneer with cubed feta. Withery-ended carrots join flimsy celery stalks, half an onion and a roast-chicken carcass for quick chicken stock. 

Occasionally, the old Type A rage still gets the better of me. A few weeks ago, I took several incriminating photos of a bag of rotting, pre-washed mustard greens days from their expiration date — muttering furiously about “the goddamn nerve” as I salvaged the few leaves free of brown slime and quick-pickled them. After all that, I was too tired to write the strongly worded email I’d planned for Kroger, despite the promise of — what exactly? — a $3.50 coupon and moral superiority? Another time, I flew into a rage when “Kevin” marked that the store was sold out of kale on what I knew was a shipment day. 

“See that? He claims there’s no kale, like not even curly,” I seethed. “That would be like KFC running out of f*cking chicken!” (The jury’s still out on what might’ve motivated Kevin to commit such deception.)

I don’t know what sort of collective unease awaits us post-vaccine, as we edge back into semi-normalcy and its tangible, everyday joys. How will we feel walking into a bustling restaurant unmasked or packing in shoulder to shoulder at our favorite bar? Will we deny our impulse to grab fresh fruit in our hands, turn it and inhale its mouthwatering perfume?

Whether it takes another month or 10, I know one day I’ll be back in my beloved produce department, palming every last avocado and smelling all the plums. I’ll sift through the loose portobellos, irritatingly bagging the choicest mushrooms one by one, then wander over to the technicolor stacks of hot and sweet peppers while dreaming up relishes and roasted pestos. I might even stop for an orange slice sample or a broken tortilla chip with housemade pico de gallo — it is a special occasion after all. 

I apologize in advance to my fellow shoppers in a rush that day.

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