|
What Can the Coronavirus Teach Us? |
|
|
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=35861"><span class="small">Bill McKibben, The New Yorker</span></a>
|
|
Saturday, 07 March 2020 13:47 |
|
McKibben writes: "There's nothing good about the novel coronavirus - it's killing many people, and shutting millions more inside, with fear as their main companion."
Bill McKibben. (photo: Wolfgang Schmidt)

What Can the Coronavirus Teach Us?
By Bill McKibben, The New Yorker
07 March 20
here’s nothing good about the novel coronavirus—it’s killing many people, and shutting millions more inside, with fear as their main companion. However, if we’re fated to go through this passage, we may as well learn something from it, and it does strike me that there are a few insights that are applicable to the climate crisis that shadows all of our lives.
Some of these lessons are obvious: giant cruise ships are climate killers and, it turns out, can become floating sick wards. Other ideas evaporate once you think about them: China is producing far less carbon dioxide, for the moment, but, completely apart from the human toll, economic disruption is not a politically viable way to deal with global warming in the long term, and it also undercuts the engines of innovation that bring us, say, cheap solar panels.
Still, it’s worth noting how nimbly millions of people seem to have learned new patterns. Companies, for instance, are scrambling to stay productive, even with many people working from home. The idea that we need to travel each day to a central location to do our work may often be the result of inertia, more than anything else. Faced with a real need to commute by mouse, instead of by car, perhaps we’ll see that the benefits of workplace flexibility extend to everything from gasoline consumption to the need for sprawling office parks.
Of course, that’s a lesson that can be learned in reverse as well. The best excuse for an office is people bouncing ideas off one another, and the best excuse for a society is just people bouncing off one another, something that’s getting harder right now, as events start cancelling. But the “social distancing” that epidemiologists now demand of us to stop the spread of infectious diseases is actually already too familiar to lots of Americans. Living lives of comparative, suburban isolation, we already have fewer close friends than we used to. (Health-care authorities warned, on Thursday, of a serious epidemic of loneliness, which older Americans are more vulnerable to. The research shows that, when controlling for all other variables, older Americans who reported being lonely are twice as likely to die prematurely than those who aren’t.) But the patterns that produce this solitude in our culture are so ingrained that we’ve come to take them for granted. Perhaps, in an odd way, the prospect of forced isolation may lead us to embrace a bit more gregariousness when the virus relents. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be penned up in a Wuhan apartment; I can guess, though, that liberation will feel sweet when it comes, not only because people presumably will be safe but because they can be social. A certain kind of environmentalist has long hoped that we’ll learn to substitute human contact for endless consumption; maybe this is the kind of shock that might open a few eyes. (Also, strained global supply chains are a good reminder that local agriculture has very practical benefits.)
This might also be the moment when we decide to fully embrace the idea that science, you know, works. My grandfather was, for many decades, doctor to the tiny town of Kirkland, Washington, now a suburb filled with software execs, which has turned into an American coronavirus ground zero. So I’m thinking frequently of the brave nurses and paramedics carrying out front-line care, and also the researchers who have scrambled with remarkable speed to produce prototype vaccines. Élites seem a little better when they come bearing cures. And that should probably carry over to other realms: Americans, polling shows, are wary of Trump’s cavalier disregard for reality when it comes to global warming; now he’s claiming that the virus is a hoax, as well. Given his contention that maybe a “miracle” might make it “disappear,” I’d expect that skepticism to keep growing.
And one would also expect a growing awareness that what happens elsewhere matters—that there’s no real way to shut out the rest of the planet. That’s true for the virus, which seems to have seeped through most of the world’s borders in a matter of days. It’s even truer, of course, for the CO2 molecule. Not even a guy in a hazmat suit, clutching a temperature gun, can slow down the warm air cascading up to the Arctic, or the hurricane headed across the Atlantic. So maybe it’s a moment when we remember that coöperation with the rest of the world is a boon, not a trap.
Above all, I think, a physical shock like COVID-19 is a reminder that the world is a physical place. That’s easy to forget when we apprehend it mostly through screens, or through the cozy, contained environments that make up most of our lives. We seem to have a great deal of control, right until the moment that we don’t have any. Things can go very, very wrong, and very, very quickly. That’s precisely what scientists have been telling us for decades now about the climate crisis, and it’s what people have learned, from Australia to California, Puerto Rico, and everywhere that flood and fire has broken out. That planets get sick slightly slower than populations do—over a few decades, not a few weeks—doesn’t change the basic calculation. Biology doesn’t really care what we think of it, any more than physics or chemistry does. Reality is capable of biting, and biting hard.
Passing the Mic
Jerome Foster II just finished Week 57 of climate-striking, every Friday, in front of the White House. The high-school senior has become a force—just last month, the Audubon Naturalist Society gave him its Youth Environmental Champion award (and, since youth are now driving the environmental movement, this is no niche prize). This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
What’s the essential message that young people would like to get across to older people about climate change—what do you think older generations are not understanding correctly?
Two things. In order for substantive progress to take place to stymie the climate crisis, humanity needs to operate from a standpoint of intergovernmental solidarity, empathy, equity, and moral clarity. These should be the pillars on which we forge the pathway to a sustainable future. Also, what older generations are not understanding is the meaning of the Native American proverb, “We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.”
What was it like to walk in that crowd in Washington, D.C., last September, during the Global Climate Strike, and realize: I helped make this happen?
I felt a great sense of optimism, community, and belonging, but I also felt mad, because we invited our elected officials to speak and none of them could provide us a real plan to get us out of this crisis. What I hoped for was not just for fifteen thousand people or twenty thousand people to show up. I wanted a real policy announcement from our national representatives, saying that we have your back and we will make sure to hold the fossil-fuel industry accountable.
Tell me about OneMillionOfUs, which you helped start last March.
It is a national nonprofit youth voting and advocacy organization, which is working to educate, empower, and mobilize a million young people to register and turn out to vote in the upcoming 2020 elections and after. So far, OneMillionOfUs has partnered with the Climate Strike Movement to facilitate mass voter registration on April 24th, the third day of planned Earth Day climate strikes, from April 22nd (a.k.a. Earth Day) to April 24th. Also, we have partnered with March for Our Lives, the Women’s March Youth Empower, 350.org, March for Science, Black Lives Matter, and many more to create a plethora of events before November. To find out how you can start a OneMillionOfUs chapter at your high school, college, or community center, go to www.onemillionof.us.
Where are you headed next year for school?
I don’t know yet. I haven’t heard back from any colleges. :-(
Climate School
Thinking twice about touching that subway pole? A new study details just how much worse it is for the climate to hop in an Uber or a Lyft: about sixty-nine per cent worse than the average emissions of the ride it replaces, including driving your own car, taking mass transit, walking, and, charmingly, “simply staying put.” That’s largely because the ride-sharing-app driver is “deadheading,” which includes circling while waiting for the next fare.
Media Matters for America reported that broadcast coverage of climate change on the evening news and Sunday-morning news shows increased sixty-eight per cent over the previous year. This means, in practice, that climate-change coverage occupied 0.7 per cent of the news hole, or two hundred and thirty-eight total minutes of the news year this past year on NBC, ABC, CBS, and Fox. And that, actually, was slightly less than in 2017. Someday, historians will look back on these numbers in wonder.
The Financial Times covered, in real depth, one of the sadder sagas of the moment: the shale revolution is producing vast quantities of natural gas, which, as we are increasingly coming to understand, we don’t want to burn in power plants (or even in kitchens). So now the industry has decided to use all of that gas to create new mountains of cheap plastic, even though “doubts are emerging about the wisdom of a huge expansion in capacity that will leave the world awash in products that can take hundreds of years to decay,” according to F.T. Perhaps wise public policy would involve just leaving it in the ground. An in-depth essay in Rolling Stone this week brought home the scale of the problem—you’ll have a visceral sense when you look at the picture that accompanies it.
Scoreboard
There was a big win on the infrastructure front, as environmentalists, many of them in upstate New York, forced an end to the Constitution Pipeline, which would have carried fracked natural gas from Pennsylvania. Their eight-year battle persuaded the Oklahoma-based company that was backing the project to throw in the towel, because the return on the investment “had diminished in such a way that further development is no longer supported.” The win came too late for one family in Pennsylvania: to make way for the pipeline, work crews had already cut down five hundred and fifty trees on its land, including the family sugar bush.
In the U.K., a court quashed plans for a third runway at Heathrow Airport. Campaigners have fought this plan for many years, and their victory was all the sweeter because the judges explicitly cited climate change as the reasoning behind the ruling. The government, the judges said, had failed to consider the obligations imposed on them by joining the Paris climate accord, a first major ruling for any court in the world, and one that, the Guardian reported, “may have an impact both in the UK and around the globe by inspiring challenges against other high-carbon projects.”
On the divestment front, Britain’s Jesuits and psychiatrists chose the same day to announce that they were selling off their stock in fossil-fuel companies. As one psychiatrist pointed out, “Greenhouse gas emissions are driving us towards a future that looks terrifyingly bleak, with children’s mental health and well-being a major casualty.”
A very scary study, reminding us how much we’ve already screwed up the planet’s workings, looked at the effects of an unprecedented “blob” of hot water that hung off the West Coast, for seven hundred days, beginning around the middle of the last decade. The hot Pacific altered everything: millions of seabirds died—an “off the charts” event, ornithologists said—and species from cod to sea lions and humpback whales took big hits, too. At the moment, there are signs that the hot-water patch is reappearing off the coast of California.
And Elizabeth Warren did it again, breaking new ground with a plan to use the Dodd-Frank Act, oversight legislation drawn up in the wake of the mortgage crisis, to try to limit financial institutions in their support of fossil fuels. It’s a smart policy, because the “carbon bubble” now inflating is larger than the housing bubble that brought us low in 2008—and if we don’t pop it, we pop the planet. Perhaps she could run some sort of permanent Presidential campaign, because it seems to yield remarkable ideas on an almost daily basis.
Congratulations to Bob Weighton, from Yorkshire, who has become the oldest living man, at a hundred and eleven. He is described by the Daily Mirror as a “climate change warrior,” and he told its reporter, “All power to Greta Thunberg.” He spends some of his time building tiny wooden windmills.
Warming Up
I don’t know many activists who get more done than Emily Johnston, a Seattle-based poet who has helped gather kayaktivists to fight Shell in the Arctic and turned the valve off on a tar-sands pipeline. She wrote to me and recommended a daily listen to Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes singing “Wake Up Everybody,” so it’s probably a good prescription.

|
|
The Insanity of Making Sick People Work |
|
|
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=53584"><span class="small">Mark Bergfeld, Jacobin</span></a>
|
|
Saturday, 07 March 2020 13:47 |
|
Bergfeld writes: "Coronavirus is putting extra burdens on workers, from health professionals to low-paid cleaning staff at the front line of combating infection. Yet many of these same workers don't even have the right to sick pay - meaning they'll feel compelled to work even if it risks spreading the virus."
A utility service worker, wearing a face mask, deep cleans a Trenord train as a measure to prevent the spread of the coronavirus at Porta Garibaldi train station on March 04, 2020, in Milan, Italy. (photo: Emanuele Cremaschi/Getty Images)

The Insanity of Making Sick People Work
By Mark Bergfeld, Jacobin
07 March 20
Coronavirus is putting extra burdens on workers, from health professionals to low-paid cleaning staff at the front line of combating infection. Yet many of these same workers don’t even have the right to sick pay — meaning they’ll feel compelled to work even if it risks spreading the virus.
fter the evacuation of its coronavirus-hit passengers, the Princess Diamond cruise ship needed thorough cleaning. An Australian contractor won the tender and duly sent its cleaners a text message offering a “great opportunity” for a week’s work. The workers in question were school cleaners, inexperienced in dealing with such hazardous conditions. But given their low wages, the promised $5,000 to $6,000 for a week was bound to appeal.
Fortunately, the United Workers Union wasn’t ready to stand for management’s careless attitude. They held protests at company headquarters and urged cleaners not to accept the job. The working hours and working conditions remained anything but transparent — and the cleaners hadn’t received specific training. The workers hadn’t even been screened for their own preexisting health conditions, which could have left them particularly vulnerable.
This dispute over the Princess Diamond encapsulated a big problem with how media usually present the coronavirus crisis. There’s been lots of coverage about how governments and businesses have sought to cope with the outbreak. Rather less attention is paid to how it is reshaping the world of work — and the burden placed on workers themselves. But it really is making a difference, and not only for health professionals.
From low-wage service workers to delivery drivers in Wuhan keeping a quarantined population fed, it is workers who are having to deal with the effects of the crisis — and who are often put in most danger. Indeed, cleaners and janitors will, in many cases, be the first line of defense against the spread of the virus. This strikingly illustrates how absurd it is that they often count among the worst-paid workers.
Faced with this situation — and mounting changes to how even the lowest-wage jobs operate — we shouldn’t just treat coronavirus as some sort of natural disaster. It urgently poses the need for unions to organize to protect workers’ safety — and make sure that those on the front line have both the remuneration they deserve and the protections they need.
“Presenteeism” Is Dangerous
Bosses will always decry absenteeism among their workers. However, in times of coronavirus, we should be more worried about the opposite — “presenteeism,” by those who ought to be resting or getting medical treatment but who feel forced to show up for work.
Take food service workers, who often earn so little that missing a day’s work will leave them in the lurch. As one Twitter user commented, if such workers don’t have sick pay, they’ll continue showing up — possibly meaning they’ll help spread the virus. Only 46 percent of service workers received sick-leave benefits in 2017, according to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics.
In Britain, meanwhile, paid sick days often start after the third day missed. Nonetheless, the pub chain JD Wetherspoon — which counts more than 45,000 employees — has said that it will treat coronavirus like any other illness, meaning that ill workers who stay at home for fear of spreading the virus will be left out of pocket. The pub chain’s part-time workforce will be hit particularly hard — workers in Britain are only entitled to sick pay at all if they earn at least £118 a week.
In China, the scene of the first mass outbreak, private-sector companies have cut workers’ wages or delayed payments. In many cases, workers have been forced to use their vacation days and prepare for unpaid leave. At Apple supplier Foxconn, workers are returning to work on a third of their wages after returning from quarantine. Restaurant workers, meanwhile, find themselves unemployed as clients stay away.
Some employers are making changes. London’s Financial Times is advising white-collar professionals on the etiquette of working at home, and argues that the much-vaunted advent of remote working, outside the office, is finally becoming a reality. Traditional businesses are now moving toward smart and agile working, once exclusively performed in Silicon Valley and the tech industry, in order to prevent their employees from catching the virus and losing more working days. Oil company Chevron has asked its 300-odd London-based staff to work from home.
But these white-collar workers moving to remote working will make a tiny impact on the overall spread of the pandemic, for millions of service and manufacturing workers need to be present at the workplace to perform their jobs. Have workers turn up to work sick, and you risk infecting customers and clients; have them stay at home, and you might have to shut down your business altogether.
The problem is, the culture of “presenteeism” places the burden of the decision on workers — often meaning they’ll turn up to work when they should be staying home. The balance of forces in the workplace — the tyranny of the boss and the worker’s need for wages — thus imposes an irrational decision that endangers society as a whole. If showing up regardless counts as “loyalty to your job,” it’s not actually any good for your coworkers — or for customers.
The Jobs, They Are A-Changing
Yet not only white-collar work cultures are changing. It is also changing workers’ job content — and what our employment looks like. This is particularly the case for those who work in industries that might contribute to disease prevention, such as cleaners and health-care workers; medical staff that can remedy the worst effects of the virus; as well as others who could potentially spread it.
In Nigeria, where the first coronavirus patient was identified this weekend, security guards are being mobilized to distribute sanitizer to people entering buildings. Using some of the lowest-paid workers to prevent an outbreak ought to go hand in hand with added benefits for risky work and, indeed, the right to sick leave so that they can actually do their job effectively. Sadly, this is far from necessarily the case — with the most under-pressure workers instead burdened with more responsibilities but not more remuneration.
This was brought to my attention at a recent museum visit in Brussels, where museum staff ended up having to sanitize visitors’ audio guides. While this seems like a small task, workers rarely receive adequate training for these impromptu tasks that suddenly become part of their job. Even more rarely are they paid anything extra for these additional tasks: it’s all just “part of the job,” bosses insist. Anyone working in these customer-facing service jobs knows only too well how such little tasks and activities quickly pile up to become unmanageable. This is especially the case as sickness exacerbates staff shortages.
In the cleaning industry, coronavirus is intensifying the work regimen, with the introduction of standardized work processes. These are set by standardization bodies dominated by companies that will often codify their own working methods to gain a competitive advantage in the market. But workers don’t have any say in these standards — nor is it scientifically proven that these standards actually produce better outcomes.
Health-care workers tasked with remedying the situation are no better off. A whistleblower at the US Department of Health and Human Services has revealed that the department didn’t equip workers with sufficient protective gear. The lack of protective gear is only getting worse, as the general population is bulk-buying face masks. Thus, even the US Surgeon General has asked the public to refrain from buying the masks, so that health-care professionals who actually need them can contain the coronavirus and treat workers without getting infected themselves.
The Chinese outbreak strikingly illustrates how overburdening hospital workers undermines the entire effort to combat the virus. Here, more than 3,000 Chinese health-care workers have caught the coronavirus, with eight having died. In one case, a patient admitted to a hospital in Wuhan infected at least ten medical workers. The shortage of medical supplies, the increasingly high number of patients, and the high communicability of the virus twinned with stress, long hours, and understaffed hospitals are creating a vicious cycle for those who are meant to manage the crisis.
As coronavirus travels from country to country, there’s little doubt that more workers are going to be responsible for dealing with its effects. What remains in doubt is if this extra burden will mean more remuneration, additional training and improved occupational health and safety. But all this is imperative if those on the front lines are going to be able to maintain basic dignity at work — and do the job they’re meant to be doing.
The End of the Gig Economy?
Workers in the gig economy are at particularly high risk of catching the virus — yet they have among the lowest workplace protections. In China and elsewhere, food delivery drivers might be at the forefront of keeping self-quarantined people fed. Yet they have no knowledge of whether the person ordering food is sick or not.
While tourism is slowing down, service workers who come into regular contact with tourists have been catching coronavirus, with sometimes deadly consequences. In Taiwan, a taxi driver who had picked up passengers from mainland China and Hong Kong died in February. As tourism has slowed, cab drivers in Thailand have had their livelihoods destroyed as their daily wages have fallen from $30 to $10 a day.
Those who feel ill have often resorted to using taxis or ridesharing apps rather than calling ambulances. In London, a coronavirus patient didn’t call an ambulance when she fell ill but instead took an Uber to the closest emergency room, where she walked through the door and presented herself to reception staff. It was a short ride, and the driver didn’t catch the virus. However, these stories highlight the dangers that gig workers are exposed to.
Independent contractors working in the gig economy have no right to sick leave or health-care benefits. The Washington Post has reported that drivers have been scrubbing their cars. Of course, these drivers are not being paid for the time spent on cleaning. Unlike Lyft, Uber sent their drivers an in-app message detailing precautions they should be taking. This only underlines the reality that they are its employees — and should be treated as such.
The employment models of these companies, and their algorithmic management and control over workers, are unsustainable in times of coronavirus. The lack of transparency or basic workers’ rights — with employers doing nothing to protect workers against the spread of the virus — is meanwhile contributing to anti-Asian racism, as some drivers refuse to pick up Asian-looking passengers.
Workers’ Demands, Unions’ Responses
At present, it looks like coronavirus will continue to exacerbate existing labor-market inequalities. But the labor movement shouldn’t let employers off the hook, as if they were just victims of the situation. Companies should be providing protective gear, offering more working from home, and providing additional paid sick days and health-care benefits.
Britain’s Trades Union Congress (TUC) is leading by example, as it argues for a change to sick pay. For the TUC, workers below the current £118-a-week threshold should be given sick pay — starting from the first day they fall ill. Such a legal change would benefit nearly 2 million workers. On March 3, prime minister Boris Johnson told the House of Commons that statutory sick pay (£94.25 a week) would be extended to the first day off, but he refused to answer Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn’s question on whether this would apply to part-timers.
Meanwhile, airport security workers at Frankfurt Airport in Germany have demanded that they be allowed to wear face masks. While face masks don’t necessarily stop the virus from spreading, unions certainly should be demanding increased health and safety measures for workers on the front line.
Moreover, unions could demand more days of “home office” or remote working — a popular demand among today’s workforce. While there are issues with working from at home, such as effectively working longer hours, this would particularly benefit women workers — who are more likely to have to balance caring for their children and/or parents.
Without doubt, the coronavirus crisis is bound to bring many changes to the world of work. But, as with any crisis, the question is who is going to foot the bill. For working people, one option is fatalism — just accepting bosses’ claims that dealing with this is now “part of the job.” Or, we can insist that employers take responsibility — and implement the changes needed to keep us and the general public safe.

|
|
|
FOCUS: Joe Biden Pushed Ronald Reagan to Ramp Up Incarceration - Not the Other Way Around |
|
|
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=53581"><span class="small">David Stein, The Intercept</span></a>
|
|
Saturday, 07 March 2020 12:30 |
|
Stein writes: "Joe Biden this weekend continued to draw attention to the complicated role he has played in the country's history of race relations. On Thursday night, he drew criticism when he was asked what Americans can do about the legacy of slavery, and answered by suggesting parents put on a record player for kids, and that social workers should visit parents' homes to teach them how to care for their children."
Joe Biden speaks with audience members during a bus tour stop in Mason City, Iowa. (photo: Charlie Neibergall/AP)

Joe Biden Pushed Ronald Reagan to Ramp Up Incarceration - Not the Other Way Around
By David Stein, The Intercept
07 March 20
oe Biden this weekend continued to draw attention to the complicated role he has played in the country’s history of race relations. On Thursday night, he drew criticism when he was asked what Americans can do about the legacy of slavery, and answered by suggesting parents put on a record player for kids, and that social workers should visit parents’ homes to teach them how to care for their children. He followed that by recounting on Sunday his run-in in the 1960s with a young gang leader named “Corn Pop,” a story that involved “the only white guy” at a city pool cutting him a 6-foot piece of chain to defend himself against the razor-wielding teen and his friends.
The politics of race relations have been a central part of Biden’s career, from his high-profile opposition to busing to his authoring of the 1994 Biden Crime Bill. When he talks about his criminal justice record on the campaign trail, he argues today that the focus on the ’94 bill is unfair, because the real rise in mass incarceration happened at the state level and was long underway by then.
Biden is correct that the surge began in the 1970s and accelerated in the 1980s, but a closer look at his role reveals that it was Biden who was among the principal and earliest movers of the policy agenda that would become the war on drugs and mass incarceration, and he did so in the face of initial reluctance from none other than President Ronald Reagan. Indeed, Reagan even vetoed a signature piece of Biden legislation, which he drafted with arch segregationist Sen. Strom Thurmond of South Carolina, to create a federal “drug czar.”
At the time, many Republicans were hesitant about increasing federal spending, and in fact looking for ways to slash the budget. Domestically, Reagan wanted to focus on cutting taxes and reducing social welfare spending, and had little interest in an expansive federal spending program geared toward building new prisons and hiring new police. Biden, on the other hand, was a key policy leader among both parties on the issue of expanding funding to states and municipalities for policing and prisons.
As governor of California, Reagan had been an infamous proponent for law-and-order politics, but when he ran for president in 1980 against incumbent Jimmy Carter, crime was not a significant issue in the race. Rather, the 1980 election focused largely on the economy, inflation, and unemployment.
Biden, meanwhile, was criticizing Carter for not fighting the war on drugs forcefully enough. “I’m trying to alarm the policymakers,” he told the Washington Post months before the 1980 election. “I’m saying that business as usual won’t work.”
Although mass imprisonment is and was primarily driven by states, at the federal level Biden shaped the punitive political culture of the 1980s and 1990s by reviving a policy agenda that was briefly in decline at the end of the 1970s. In three years under Carter, the federal prison population fell by a quarter, even as it was rising at the state level. By the final days of the Carter administration, the federal program that provided resources to states for policing and imprisonment, the Law Enforcement Assistance Administration, or LEAA, was being dismantled.
In the weeks after the election, Biden argued that the problem with LEAA was inadequate coordination and poor management, and that the federal government should take a more assertive stance in this area while continuing to provide funds to states to expand their police and prison systems. “The American people believe we have waged war on crime and failed,” Biden, who was the U.S. senator for Delaware at the time, said. “Therefore, they concluded that nothing can be done about it.” In his view, though, federal funding was an essential piece of the drug war. He saw the need for a program like LEAA, but it needed a stronger manager in charge: a drug czar.
Alongside Reagan’s entry into office, Republicans wrested control of the Senate from the Democrats. South Carolina Democrat-turned-Republican Thurmond replaced Ted Kennedy as Judiciary Committee chair, and Kennedy ceded the ranking spot to Biden. Biden had previously locked horns with Kennedy as they competed to lead the party on crime, with Biden wanting to shed the party’s image as being soft. “As most old-line Democrats view it, the only ways we can deal with violence will have a negative impact on civil rights and liberties. … I think that’s malarkey,” he told the New York Times.
“Give me the crime issue … and you’ll never have trouble with it in an election,” Biden was said to have begged party leadership during meetings. With his new position of power on the committee, he began to shape its agenda accordingly.
As they each started their new roles on the Judiciary Committee, Biden approached Thurmond privately to sort out their shared priorities. Biden brought with him a 90-page draft bill and a promise: “If you keep your right-wing guys from killing this bill, I’ll keep the liberals off the bill. And if you and I stand fast and agree on what we can agree on and just hold firm, we can pass this thing,” Biden told the committee chair.
At the time, the White House and Nancy Reagan were also beginning to focus on drugs and crime, but the president saw little need for increased federal funding. Due to its cost, he had recently scuttled a proposed prison expansion plan from his Attorney General’s Task Force on Violent Crime.
Biden disapproved of Reagan’s plan to scale back funding for crime fighting, complaining in October 1981 about inadequate money to combat drug trafficking. The Coast Guard “just doesn’t have as many boats as the bad guys,” he said. “The boats just aren’t as good.” Biden had joined with some of his Republican colleagues to offer the administration more money to spend on crime. Biden excoriated what he dubbed the White House’s “budgeteers” for the paltry funding being offered to the FBI. “You are cutting not only the muscle, but the bone,” he told the attorney general.
Throughout Reagan’s first two years in office, Biden frequently criticized him for shortchanging the war on crime and drugs. In June 1981, Biden spoke before a House committee hearing on budget cuts to drug enforcement. “I, personally, am getting tired of rhetoric about the war on violent crime and the war on drugs. … These types of budget cuts certainly would seem to contradict a serious effort to develop a federal drug strategy,” he said. “My patience for action in the drug arena by this administration is beginning to waiver. Just as I criticized the Carter administration for a lack of innovative ideas in this area I will criticize this administration if promises and rhetoric are not soon replaced by results,” he continued.
In September 1982, Biden gave a nationally broadcast Democratic response to the president’s weekly radio address. He accused Reagan of “unnecessary budget cuts” to crime funding. “Violent crime is as real a threat to our national security as any foreign threat,” he said. “We have a military budget of $253 billion in 1983, and yet in 1983, we’ll spend less than $3 billion a year to fight crime.” He then called on the federal government to support “state and local police agencies by training their people and giving them more money.”
The Biden-Thurmond bill increased penalties for drugs, including expanding civil asset forfeiture; created a sentencing commission; and eradicated parole at the federal level. It sought to limit access to bail — a provision denounced by the ACLU for “revers[ing] the presumption of innocence.” After the bill passed by huge majorities in the Senate and House (with the parole and bail provisions removed by the House), a question lingered: Would the president, who had in recent months agreed to pursue crime legislation largely in line with the Biden-Thurmond bill, sign it? Reagan had a major sticking point: He opposed Biden’s desired “drug czar” position. Despite a lobbying blitz from Biden and Thurmond, which Biden memorialized in his eulogy for the South Carolina senator, and despite Biden’s support of Reagan’s tax cuts and slashing of social welfare spending, Reagan vetoed the Biden-Thurmond bill, even while advisers fretted about undermining the president’s tough on crime credentials.
Biden, who was the ranking Democrat on the committee from 1981 to 1987, and then chaired it until 1995, continued on this trajectory: shaping many of the laws that would in a sense recreate LEAA and institutionalize a federal drug war. A number of the priorities from the 1982 Biden-Thurmond bill would eventually become law. Biden shaped the Comprehensive Crime Control Act of 1984, which curtailed access to bail; eliminated parole; created a sentencing commission; expanded civil asset forfeiture; and increased funding for states. Biden helped lead the push for the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986, which lengthened sentences for many offenses, created the infamous 100:1 crack versus cocaine sentencing disparity, and provided new funds for the escalating drug war. Eventually, with his co-sponsorship of the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988, his long-sought-after drug czar position was created. These and other laws lengthened sentences at the federal level and contributed to an explosion of federal imprisonment — from 24,000 people locked up in 1980 to almost 216,000 in 2013. In short, these laws increased the likelihood that more people would end up in cages and for longer.
In 1989, Biden criticized President George Bush’s anti-drug efforts as “not tough enough, bold enough or imaginative enough. The president says he wants to wage a war on drugs, but if that’s true, what we need is another D-Day, not another Vietnam, not a limited war, fought on the cheap.” Then, in 1994, he pushed through the massive crime bill, which authorized more than $30 billion of spending, largely devoted to expanding state prisons and local police forces. He bragged of his accomplishments in a 1994 report: The “first [national] drug strategy sought a total of $350 million in federal aid to state and local law enforcement, with states matching the federal assistance dollar for dollar. The first drug strategy I offered—in January 1990—called for more than $1 billion in aid to state and local law enforcement—a controversial view at the time.”
As Biden pushed Republicans to spend more on policing and prisons, he was part of a wave of “New Democrats” pushing the party in evermore punitive directions. Now, with upward of one in every two families having suffered the harms of mass incarceration, Biden says he worries that “too many people are incarcerated.”

|
|
FOCUS: To Rebound and Win, Bernie Sanders Needs to Leave His Comfort Zone |
|
|
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=51548"><span class="small">Matt Taibbi, Rolling Stone</span></a>
|
|
Saturday, 07 March 2020 12:19 |
|
Taibbi writes: "A former aide to Bernie Sanders tells a story about the old days, when the little-known House Independent used to crisscross Vermont holding town hall meetings."
Sen. Bernie Sanders speaks with members of the media after a Democratic presidential primary debate in Charleston, S.C., Feb. 25, 2020. (photo: Matt Rourke/AP)

To Rebound and Win, Bernie Sanders Needs to Leave His Comfort Zone
By Matt Taibbi, Rolling Stone
07 March 20
Current and former staffers say Sanders has run a great campaign — except when it comes to taking on Democrats like Joe Biden by name. Can he fix that?
former aide to Bernie Sanders tells a story about the old days, when the little-known House Independent used to crisscross Vermont holding town hall meetings.
“It was morning to night, and we’d hit every corner of the state,” the aide recalls. “They would go on and on. I’d say to him, ‘Bernie, it’s okay if we leave a little bit on the table in some of these places. But he wouldn’t hear of it.”
Popular democracy to Sanders is a relationship where everyone gets a chance to be heard. Even though the aide worried that Bernie wasn’t optimizing his use of time, he admired his dedication. “At the end of the day, he’s a good man,” the aide says. “He cares about poor people. How many people really care about the poor?”
But as Bernie’s popularity and influence grew, it seemed all he wanted to do was scale up the regime of town meetings.
“It’s like the Steve Martin movie, The Jerk,” the aide says. “He’s born in a shack. Then, when he hits it big, he builds a shack-mansion.”
In the 2020 presidential campaign, Sanders has done fantastically well. Even after a disappointing Super Tuesday, when Joe Biden surged past him in Texas, Massachusetts and Minnesota to re-seize frontrunner status, Bernie remains very much in the hunt. Heading into contests in states he won in 2016, such as Washington and Michigan, the self-described “Democratic Socialist” at this writing trails Biden in estimated delegates, 670-589. He’s behind, but no one with his politics has ever been this close to the presidency.
But Rolling Stone spoke to multiple current and former Sanders aides who worry the Senator’s personality — he’s phobic about personal confrontation and retains traces of an inferiority complex from his days as an Independent straggler — might lead him to miss a chance at history. They say the campaign, which declined to comment for this story, has, among other things, declined to aggressively confront Joe Biden on issues like Social Security, trade, and the bankruptcy bill.
“Bernie is conflict-averse,” says Matt Stoller, who worked for Sanders for two years. “His staff has always had real trouble getting him to criticize any Democrat by name.”
“Bernie is always better on the counterpunch, on the rope-a-dope,” says Mark Longabaugh, who was chief strategist for Bernie’s 2016 campaign. “When he lands, it’s usually a counterpunch, like ‘I wrote the damn bill.’ It’s hard for him to go on the attack.”
“I always said, if he learned anything from 2016, it’s that in order to win the nomination, to beat the political establishment, you have to take it from their cold, dead hands. You have to go to war with these people,” the longtime former aide says. “But Bernie is acting like he’s running for State Senator in Burlington.”
As a result, even as a staggered Democratic Party political establishment scrambled all year to undercut him, openly signaling a willingness to overturn voter will at this summer’s convention in Milwaukee, Sanders seemed content to keep giving the same speech he’s been giving for thirty years, what some current and former aides affectionately call the “Berniefesto.”
The 2020 primary race is not over. The delegate gap is not that big, Sanders has favorable states upcoming (Michigan will be a key test), and a March 15th debate in Arizona will test Biden, who’s struggled to use all his time in earlier contests. Elizabeth Warren blew up Mike Bloomberg’s candidacy in thirty seconds of a January debate. Bernie should be able to do the same to Biden, a man who leads with his face in verbal combat. But he’ll need to step out of his comfort zone, and soon.
Springfield, Virginia, a chilly February 28. Three hours before Sanders is set to speak, a crowd of seven or eight thousand huddles in an entrance line. There is nowhere to park for a half-mile out. The World Bernie Tour is here.
“Baby Yoda!” a salesman of Bernie merch cracks with a smile, when asked what his top-selling product is. A t-shirt showing a small green alien Bernie, telling all THIS IS THE WAY, has been a popular meme on the 2020 campaign.
For years now, mere conferral of Bernie’s presence creates a box office event. Bill Clinton reached this rare air, as did Sarah Palin of all people, and Barack Obama. Donald Trump is the standard-bearer: If Led Zeppelin sold time-share, it might approximate what Trump rallies look like today. But Bernie is a political star in his own right.
Sanders is an anti-showman. Obama sold looks and verbal brilliance, Palin was Roseanne, and Clinton tried to mate with his crowds. Bernie is an old man talking about Medicare. In an era when America is tired of the bullshit, the absence of a come-on is a smash hit.
“Ice, Ice baby!” says Wilson Johnson, a third-grade teacher from Woodbridge, Virginia. He’s nailing Vanilla Ice in Bernie voice. “I think the one percent doesn’t deserve all the oyce!”
Sanders supporters often tell stories about frustrations with the system that led to epiphanies. In Virginia, one described a lifetime of seeing corruption working for the Inspector General of the Department of Agriculture. Another tells told a story about the devastation that $40,000 in student debt wrought in his life. Everyone has a story. “I had a major surgery last year,” said Fabio Moreiera, of Fairfax. “My insurance company told me for about six months, yeah, we’ll cover it, we’ll cover it. Three days before I got the surgery, they said, ‘oh, it’s not going to be covered.’”
The stories cut across demographics. Bernie crowds, in contrast to reporting clichés, are full of ex-conservatives (and also former non-voters). You’d never guess that a campaign with this reach would be capable of losing anywhere by thirty points or more. But it happened, both that same night in South Carolina, and days later in this same state.
While Sanders barnstormed across the country in what one staffer describes as “the rock concert,” the tectonic plates of the 2020 primary shifted. Tongue-tied, Iraq-war-supporting Joe Biden crushed Bernie in South Carolina, blowing past poll expectations with a 48.4-19.9% primary victory. Two nights later, Biden proved South Carolina was no fluke, winning nine states in devastating fashion, including an amazing 53%-21% rout in Virginia.
Overnight, Sanders went from clear frontrunner to a candidate with a major problem. With rival Democrats no longer doing him the favor of fracturing the field — Pete Buttigieg and Amy “Snow Woman” Klobuchar both threw in with Biden after South Carolina — the Sanders trajectory looked like it might end at the Democratic National Convention in Milwaukee, unless he found a way to expand beyond his base.
The Sanders campaign earlier this year suggested Bernie was about to go after Biden on Social Security and other issues in an Iowa debate, but Sanders ended up in a dispute with Elizabeth Warren instead. As understandable as this was — Bernie had to respond to Warren’s charges that he’d told her a woman couldn’t win — it mirrored a year-long pattern of reluctance by Sanders to engage “Scranton Joe.”
Ask people in and around Bernie’s orbit why this is the case, and you’ll get some depressing answers.
“I think Bernie likes Joe Biden,” says Longabaugh.
“I think Bernie has a really hard time going negative,” says Stoller.
“So much of what informs his relationship with people like Biden,” says the longtime former staffer, “is that experience of being the lone independent and outsider. Back then, if any one of those people treated him with respect, as a colleague, that was enough to ingratiate them with Bernie.”
The former aide sighs. “He doesn’t like Rahm Emmanuel, he doesn’t like Hillary Clinton,” he says. “But he’s okay with Biden, because Biden is nice to him.”
What’s troubling about this is that Biden has long been a central figure in building the modern, corporate-dominated model of the Democratic Party Sanders spends so much time deconstructing.
Biden led cheers for the Iraq War and repeatedly lied about that record (“Yes, I did oppose the war before it began,” he said just last year). On many occasions he’s expressed willingness to cut Social Security and voted for the insidious bankruptcy bill. He championed NAFTA and the Trans-Pacific Partnership, helped write the atrocious 1994 crime bill, and even bragged that George Bush’s infamous Attorney General John Ashcroft got the idea for the PATRIOT Act from him.
Bernie has gone after some of this, but even on issues like the Iraq invasion, where Biden has an extensive record of damning statements, he’s let his rival off the hook, propping up Biden’s weak excuse of being deceived by Republicans.
“Joe and I listened to what George Bush, Dick Cheney and Rumsfeld had to say. I thought they were lying. Joe saw things differently,” was the strongest statement Sanders could muster, in a recent debate.
Bernie is now using more confrontational language like “Which side are you on?” with regard to Social Security, but it may be too late. (Why did he wait until after Super Tuesday to feature an ad about Biden’s Social Security record?) For most of the campaign, on key issues like this, Bernie seemed anxious to pick “a line of attack that will bring the least amount of blowback” from within the Democratic Party, as Stoller puts it.
Reluctance to cut the cord with Democrats who are “trying to put a bazooka to his head” is part of what finally disillusioned the unnamed longtime aide, who notes that Bernie’s unwillingness to engage people like Biden is “self-sabotaging, but also selfish. It’s not comfortable for him to call out people he likes, but it’s not about him anymore… He has millions of people who’ve put their hopes in him.”
There is a legend being circulated now in the press that the Sanders campaign was somehow sunk by “negativity,” that online rancor and divisiveness placed a ceiling on Bernie’s rise. That this is transparent pundit gaslighting is made clear by the trajectory of Warren. Having built her brand as a progressive years ago by attacking none other than Joe Biden over the bankruptcy bill, Warren as a presidential candidate holstered those attacks against her onetime chief intraparty rival, stressed “unity”, and — got crushed at the polls. If you want to see where a progressive platform without aggressive distinctions goes, it’s proven to be nowhere.
However, as Longabaugh points out, attacking rivals in a multi-candidate field can have unpredictable results.
“People don’t realize how hard this is, standing onstage with someone and sticking a shiv in,” says Longabaugh. “I actually think Bernie has played this pretty well,” Longabaugh says. “He may find it easier to draw contrasts with Biden in a two-way race.”
The reluctance to engage strongly with Biden speaks to the larger issue of Bernie’s attitude toward the Democratic Party. Sanders clearly sees the Party’s flaws and rails against its susceptibility to corporate influence, but has trouble understanding that the current leadership will never truly accept him and his message, unless forced. He’s been reluctant to use his mass appeal as a cudgel, preferring to focus on making a case to the public — a strategy that has served him extremely well, but still.
“You gotta weaponize this shit,” says the longtime aide. “You’ve got to go to these people in the party and say, ‘You can either accept it, or be killed by it.’” The aide notes there’s an obvious example of how to use a populist pulpit. “Trump is crazy, but there are things you can learn from him.”
Sanders staffers speak of the Senator with great admiration. Even those who’ve parted on bad terms indicate that at one time or another, they would have have taken a bullet for the man. All are amazed by the size of the movement he’s been able to build.
The issue is converting phenomenon into victory. There is a passionate debate within Bernieworld over the best way to get there. Drawing stronger contrasts with Biden is only part of the picture.
Some for instance wonder if the candidate has done enough on the inside. The “rock concert” has been miraculously effective in building popular support despite a near-total absence of institutional or media backing, but that doesn’t preclude “walking and chewing gum at the same time,” as one source puts it.
Bernie could have been on the phone every day for the last four years, back-channeling figures like Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer, and even Barack Obama even as he blowtorched traditional Democrats like Biden on the trail. Would that have produced a different result?
Others wonder about the mechanics of a presidential run: Did Sanders do enough? He raised a ton of money, hitting $50 million per month, a massive sum for this kind of candidate. Did he spend it in the right places, in the most delegate-rich regions and media markets? Was/is there enough focus on who will serve as delegates? Was/is enough attention being paid to questions like the bureaucratic structure of the Milwaukee Democratic convention?
Sanders himself clearly views his campaign as an effort to rescue and restore the Democratic Party, at least as he understands it — the party of F.D.R., and the working-class voters it traditionally represented, dating back to his youth. He’s been burning up air miles in an effort to replace the corporate-funded political model with one backed by a movement of millions of people. As he put it to Rolling Stone four years ago, “Our future is not raising money from wealthy people, but mobilizing millions of working people and young people and people of color.”
Some part of Sanders seems to hold out hope that something is left over in the DNA of the Democratic Party from those F.D.R. days, something that can be saved and restored. He seems to have a nostalgic fondness for it, as he seems to for Biden himself.
But this version of the Democratic Party that now has Biden as its face wants to bury him. They’ve smeared him as a racist, sexist dupe for Putin, an amateur and back-bencher who doesn’t understand power and can’t “get things done.”
By getting as far as he has, and raising as much money as he has, Sanders has already demolished half of that argument. To finish the job, he has to show he understands the difference between doing well and winning, against an opponent who pathetically, insultingly beatable. For all of the institutional obstacles before him, despite the wall of media sycophants and the waterfall of fresh Wall Street money against him, Bernie should be offended to be losing to the likes of Joe Biden. But he’s running out of time to get angry.

|
|