Biden Debuts Massive New Climate Bureaucracy

covphotos115589

Another day, another flurry of executive actions from new President Joe Biden. Yesterday’s orders included one on “Tackling the Climate Crisis at Home and Abroad,” a behemoth that features new bureaucracy creation and international summits interspersed with pledges to tackle everything from minority representation in certain business sectors to union job creation under the mantle of climate change.

Biden’s climate change order rejoins the U.S. in the Paris Agreement (which, as Reason‘s Ron Bailey notes, former President Barack Obama signed in 2016 “as an executive agreement rather than a treaty requiring Senate approval”).

It creates the Civilian Climate Corps Initiative, the Special Presidential Envoy for Climate, the White House Office of Domestic Climate Policy, the National Climate Task Force, a world leaders’ climate summit, the Interagency Working Group on Coal and Power Plant Communities and Economic Revitalization, and the White House Environmental Justice Interagency Council.

It is flush with phrases like “multilateral and bilateral channels and institutions” and other language that drips with officialese but doesn’t really tell us much, plus oodles of ordering various agencies and departments to prepare reports—on their own environmental impact, how they are considering climate change concerns in initiatives abroad, and so on.

As with many of former President Donald Trump’s executive orders, it’s a bit hard to tell whether the Biden climate order portends huge changes or is basically just something to keep bureaucrats busy and get the president good marks for speaking the language of his base.

It does make a few concrete changes right away. One of those is the order to “pause new oil and natural gas leases on public lands or in offshore waters pending completion of a comprehensive review and reconsideration of Federal oil and gas permitting and leasing practices.” And it directs officials to ensure that “federal funding is not directly subsidizing fossil fuels.”

But there is also a lot of rah-rah rhetoric around solving climate emergencies with teamwork and unity, and pledges to make all the good things happen through… federal agency recommendations, proclamations, reports, and consideration.

The order says officials must “publish recommendations on how certain Federal investments might be made toward a goal that 40 percent of the overall benefits flow to disadvantaged communities.” It promises “more opportunities for women and people of color in occupations where they are underrepresented” and to “foster economic revitalization of and investment in [mining] communities, ensure the creation of good jobs that provide a choice to join a union, and secure the benefits that have been earned by workers.”

“Climate considerations shall be an essential element of United States foreign policy and national security,” it states. Climate change scenarios will be integrated into war games. The director of national intelligence will issue a report. The directors of myriad other agencies will issue reports. The treasury secretary will see that we’re “engaged in relevant international fora and institutions that are working on the management of climate-related financial risks.” And so on.

The climate change order comes on the heels of a Biden order halting construction of the Keystone XL pipeline and as a run-up to two executive orders related to Medicaid and the Affordable Care Act, which Biden is supposed to put out today.

Alas, this seems to be our new political normal, where Congress basically only exists to approve budgets and hold show hearings against disfavored industries, the president governs unilaterally through executive directives, and every few years a new administration will use its new executive pens and paper to undo everything the former one just did.

This isn’t to say that Biden shouldn’t have revoked any of Trump’s executive orders, many of which were themselves beyond the scope of healthy presidential power.

But Biden has issued many more executive orders and actions of his own since taking office just over a week ago—at least 10 in the past three days, in addition to at least 27 executive actions issued last Wednesday through Friday.

Some people see this as a symptom of political polarization. They say that with Republicans and Democrats in Congress—and the constituencies they represent—so at odds, passing grand new initiatives is impossible and the president has no choice but to do Congress’ job when it can’t.

But executive overreach isn’t the solution to political polarization. Executive overreach causes political polarization. Government overreach in general causes political polarization.

In a well-functioning democratic system, you know your side losing an election might mean some changes or bring some policies you don’t like, but the stakes don’t reach into every aspect of your life. The changes, when they come, will be well-fought-over and incremental (as using government force to make things happen in a pluralistic society must be). New administrations aren’t coming in like some home makeover TV show host, ready to immediately tear down everything the previous occupant put up and then swiftly impose their own singular vision of what the country should look like.


QUICK HITS

• “At least two journalists tested positive for coronavirus after witnessing the Trump administration’s final three federal executions, but the Bureau of Prisons knowingly withheld the diagnoses from other media witnesses and did not perform any contact tracing,” the Associated Press reports.

• “In July of 2016, Angela Calloway arrived at the Augusta Correctional Center in Craigsville, Virginia, to visit with an inmate” and was ordered to “remove her clothes and tampon so prison guards could inspect her vaginal and anal cavities for contraband.” A federal court says the search was constitutional and upheld a lower court ruling that the guards involved couldn’t be sued because of qualified immunity.

• “Cancel culture” is more aptly described as “snitch culture.

• It’s comeback time (sigh):

 

from Latest – Reason.com https://ift.tt/3iRK5C0
via IFTTT

Biden Debuts Massive New Climate Bureaucracy

covphotos115589

Another day, another flurry of executive actions from new President Joe Biden. Yesterday’s orders included one on “Tackling the Climate Crisis at Home and Abroad,” a behemoth that features new bureaucracy creation and international summits interspersed with pledges to tackle everything from minority representation in certain business sectors to union job creation under the mantle of climate change.

Biden’s climate change order rejoins the U.S. in the Paris Agreement (which, as Reason‘s Ron Bailey notes, former President Barack Obama signed in 2016 “as an executive agreement rather than a treaty requiring Senate approval”).

It creates the Civilian Climate Corps Initiative, the Special Presidential Envoy for Climate, the White House Office of Domestic Climate Policy, the National Climate Task Force, a world leaders’ climate summit, the Interagency Working Group on Coal and Power Plant Communities and Economic Revitalization, and the White House Environmental Justice Interagency Council.

It is flush with phrases like “multilateral and bilateral channels and institutions” and other language that drips with officialese but doesn’t really tell us much, plus oodles of ordering various agencies and departments to prepare reports—on their own environmental impact, how they are considering climate change concerns in initiatives abroad, and so on.

As with many of former President Donald Trump’s executive orders, it’s a bit hard to tell whether the Biden climate order portends huge changes or is basically just something to keep bureaucrats busy and get the president good marks for speaking the language of his base.

It does make a few concrete changes right away. One of those is the order to “pause new oil and natural gas leases on public lands or in offshore waters pending completion of a comprehensive review and reconsideration of Federal oil and gas permitting and leasing practices.” And it directs officials to ensure that “federal funding is not directly subsidizing fossil fuels.”

But there is also a lot of rah-rah rhetoric around solving climate emergencies with teamwork and unity, and pledges to make all the good things happen through… federal agency recommendations, proclamations, reports, and consideration.

The order says officials must “publish recommendations on how certain Federal investments might be made toward a goal that 40 percent of the overall benefits flow to disadvantaged communities.” It promises “more opportunities for women and people of color in occupations where they are underrepresented” and to “foster economic revitalization of and investment in [mining] communities, ensure the creation of good jobs that provide a choice to join a union, and secure the benefits that have been earned by workers.”

“Climate considerations shall be an essential element of United States foreign policy and national security,” it states. Climate change scenarios will be integrated into war games. The director of national intelligence will issue a report. The directors of myriad other agencies will issue reports. The treasury secretary will see that we’re “engaged in relevant international fora and institutions that are working on the management of climate-related financial risks.” And so on.

The climate change order comes on the heels of a Biden order halting construction of the Keystone XL pipeline and as a run-up to two executive orders related to Medicaid and the Affordable Care Act, which Biden is supposed to put out today.

Alas, this seems to be our new political normal, where Congress basically only exists to approve budgets and hold show hearings against disfavored industries, the president governs unilaterally through executive directives, and every few years a new administration will use its new executive pens and paper to undo everything the former one just did.

This isn’t to say that Biden shouldn’t have revoked any of Trump’s executive orders, many of which were themselves beyond the scope of healthy presidential power.

But Biden has issued many more executive orders and actions of his own since taking office just over a week ago—at least 10 in the past three days, in addition to at least 27 executive actions issued last Wednesday through Friday.

Some people see this as a symptom of political polarization. They say that with Republicans and Democrats in Congress—and the constituencies they represent—so at odds, passing grand new initiatives is impossible and the president has no choice but to do Congress’ job when it can’t.

But executive overreach isn’t the solution to political polarization. Executive overreach causes political polarization. Government overreach in general causes political polarization.

In a well-functioning democratic system, you know your side losing an election might mean some changes or bring some policies you don’t like, but the stakes don’t reach into every aspect of your life. The changes, when they come, will be well-fought-over and incremental (as using government force to make things happen in a pluralistic society must be). New administrations aren’t coming in like some home makeover TV show host, ready to immediately tear down everything the previous occupant put up and then swiftly impose their own singular vision of what the country should look like.


QUICK HITS

• “At least two journalists tested positive for coronavirus after witnessing the Trump administration’s final three federal executions, but the Bureau of Prisons knowingly withheld the diagnoses from other media witnesses and did not perform any contact tracing,” the Associated Press reports.

• “In July of 2016, Angela Calloway arrived at the Augusta Correctional Center in Craigsville, Virginia, to visit with an inmate” and was ordered to “remove her clothes and tampon so prison guards could inspect her vaginal and anal cavities for contraband.” A federal court says the search was constitutional and upheld a lower court ruling that the guards involved couldn’t be sued because of qualified immunity.

• “Cancel culture” is more aptly described as “snitch culture.

• It’s comeback time (sigh):

 

from Latest – Reason.com https://ift.tt/3iRK5C0
via IFTTT

The Economist Who Says Schools Are Safer Than You Think

interview2

Emily Oster is a Harvard-educated economist at Brown University—not the usual launching pad for gurudom. But she is nonetheless the sage at the center of a low-key cult. She popped onto the scene when her dissertation findings on “missing girls” in China were picked up by Freakonomics authors Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner but ascended to a higher plane when she applied her background in health economics and statistical methods to pregnancy and childbirth in her 2013 book Expecting Better. She did the same for toddlers and infants in 2019’s Cribsheet; a third book in the series, The Family Firm, will be out this summer.

In a certain parental set, Oster’s books are passed around slightly furtively, with the air of letting someone in on a secret. Her goal is to help parents translate academic literature into actionable items, but she often ends up serving as a counterpoint to the anxious, overcautious parenting advice doled out in glossy mags and on playgrounds.

When you are an economist who tells pregnant women that research suggests it’s OK to have the occasional wine and sushi, you will be welcomed as a liberator. When you explain that sleep training and formula don’t show serious long-term negative effects, you will be worshipped. You will also be vilified by the keepers of the conventional wisdom, of course, and Oster has gotten her share of hate mail.

Enter COVID-19. As the pandemic shuttered schools for months, especially in coastal cities, Oster wondered whether that decision was justified. Unsurprisingly, given how new the disease was, not much definitive scholarship was available. More surprisingly, there wasn’t much good raw data either. No one seemed to be keeping track of what schools were doing and whether there seemed to be any impact on positivity rates.

That’s how Oster found herself serving as a COVID-in-schools data miner and later as a cautious advocate for reopening schools, a case she made in such outlets as The AtlanticThe New York Times, and her own Substack newsletter. Messages like “Schools Aren’t Super-Spreaders” and “Parents Can’t Wait Around Forever” have earned her the same mix of grateful relief and furious suspicion as did her previous work.

Reason‘s Katherine Mangu-Ward spoke with Emily Oster in December via Zoom, while Oster’s kids were home from their school in Rhode Island for a snow day (“yes, you can watch TV”) and new lockdowns were kicking in as COVID spiked around the country.

Reason: You collected a bunch of data and set up a data dashboard to track COVID in K-12 schools. I’m sure you’re doing a good job, but why wasn’t this being done by, say, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention?

Oster: I don’t totally know. There were a lot of failures in federal leadership in this pandemic and this was one of them. There was this opportunity to set up a more centralized, government-run data collection effort, and it just didn’t happen. States were very slow to get started and [had] little consistency across the space. So what prompted us was the realization that there’s a ton of discussion with school reopening in the Northeast and on the West Coast, and we are seeing schools reopen in Georgia, Indiana—places with really high positivity rates. It felt like there was an opportunity to learn, but nobody was getting the information we would need to learn from that.

There are so many federal failures, I don’t know whether this one is worse than some of the other ones; it’s hard to pick which is the worst one.

There’s the old saw about states being laboratories of democracy. States really leaned into that with COVID, didn’t they? We got a strangely robust set of experiments on different variables. What data did you collect and what data do you wish you could have collected?

The core underlying pieces of the dashboard are information on cases, information on enrollments, and in-person counts—we want a rate, and for a rate, you need a numerator and denominator. So those are the two most key pieces.

The second most important [thing] is mitigation strategies: Are places masking? Are they distancing? What can we learn about what works to keep places safe? We have all of those pieces from districts that have decided to be in our study. We have some of those pieces from the couple of states that have been consistent with this kind of reporting. The best reporting comes out of New York, where they actually have, for every school, counts of cases and information on enrollments, and they require schools to put that in. Texas has a similar—not quite as good, but almost as good—infrastructure. So we pulled that down also.

The thing that would have been great is to have somebody tell states: These are the pieces of data you should be collecting. And in particular, actually knowing, at a minimum, the reopening plan for a state or for a district: Are you open or not? That would be great.

I’ve talked to a lot of states and almost none of them have said, “Well, we don’t want to tell you that.” But many of them said, “Well, we don’t know that. We don’t know how many COVID cases. We don’t know how many kids are in school. And we don’t know the reopening models of our districts.”

What are your (preliminary) conclusions so far about school reopening and safety?

I want to step back and say what we were thinking when we started. There was a really open question: Are schools going to be the locus of tremendous spread? That conversation has shifted a lot, but in the summer there was this idea that we’re going to open schools and that’s going to be the thing that destroys everything.

That does not seem to be true. We’re not seeing schools as the locus of large amounts of spread. The rates are actually quite low—even though the way we measure rates, just to be clear, is not spread in schools, but just people affiliated with schools who have COVID. So it doesn’t mean they got it at the school. But even there, we’re seeing rates that are pretty much in line with what we’re seeing in the community. Maybe a little bit lower for students, maybe a little bit higher for staff.

We’re seeing fairly optimistic information about the idea that you could have schools operate safely, even in areas where there’s some reasonable amount of community spread. Masking probably does matter. That’s probably the most robust correlate in the data, that those places that are masking seem to have much lower rates than places that are not. But I think the thing that we got the most attention for—rightly, because it moved people’s priors a lot—was just this idea that not everyone at the school got COVID the day it opened.

We are seeing some of these differences across age groups. To the extent that there are places with larger numbers of cases, they seem to be high schools.

But not nearly as large as colleges, right?

I think that’s been a really interesting aspect of this, which is that we have seen the thing that people feared at the college level. Not at all colleges, but a lot. When Penn State opened, you could see on a COVID map where Penn State is, because it was just totally overwhelmed. In some ways I find it actually surprising that we have not seen more high schools that looked like that. And I’m not sure why that’s so different.

Over the summer, there really wasn’t a consensus about what reopening K-12 schools would mean. It is now broadly accepted that opening, particularly elementary schools, is almost certainly not going to trigger a massive uptick in cases or fatalities. But policy making seems to lag that shift in conventional wisdom. Why?

I think you’re right that the conventional wisdom shifted. Many people moved to: “Oh, actually, the science is not what I thought it would be.” And there are a lot of places that are open. A lot of this discussion is happening on the sides of the country—we forget that there are a lot of kids who have been in person in school. I live in Rhode Island, where the schools are open. That’s not unrelated to this observation. I think that the governor listened and this was something that was important to her. Chicago is going to try. New York is trying, in a sense. There are some movements in that direction, but there has been a lot of resistance.

There’s been a lot of resistance from the unions. Some of that they’ve walked back a little bit. [President of the American Federation of Teachers] Randi Weingarten has walked back to saying we should have K-5. That’s something. Other unions have walked less back. The politics of this got really complicated and it’s been hard to ramp them back. I think that the Biden administration will be able to do that more easily because the fact that he is saying schools should be open is really different than [President Donald] Trump saying it. I think that’s been good, but it’s uphill. We haven’t moved as much as I would’ve liked.

When we last talked, for a Reason podcast about your work on pregnancy and early childhood, we discussed how some people interpreted your work as giving them permission to do stuff they wanted to do anyway that felt like common sense to them—drink an occasional glass of wine, eat sushi, use baby formula. With those books, you got some pushback from obstetricians and pediatricians. There are some parallels with your COVID work, including pushback from teachers, unions, and school districts on the idea that it might be OK to open schools. How has your experience with the medical establishment shaped the way that you’re dealing with the education establishment?

It’s a fair comparison. In both cases, a lot of the pushback was “You’re not an expert.” I spend a lot of time with people telling me that I’m not an expert in things, probably because I spend a lot of time talking about things which I’m not much of an expert in. One of the things that the pushback misses is that there are some pieces of this in which I am an expert: data and statistics and thinking about decision making. I find that pushback frustrating, but also very familiar.

The main way in which I have thought about this differently is that I actually tried to listen a little bit more. In the case of the school stuff, at some point I realized that we had made the point about data and people had accepted the data, but as you say, that’s not the whole thing. And sometimes there’s value if you actually want to get things changed. This is a little different than the pregnancy thing, because I wasn’t trying to get any particular policy change there. I don’t particularly think [policy makers] should say it’s fine to drink during pregnancy.

Here, it feels like there really is a policy point. There was a point where I said: OK, the data is not going to be enough. I need to make it clear that there are other things going on and incorporate that into some of my thinking. That insight was probably informed by having dealt before with people who are never totally going to back down.

Talk a little bit about the culture of academic inquiry around COVID-related questions. Are people asking the right questions now? Is there work that will have to be done after it’s over, to be useful for the next pandemic? How is the research community dealing with COVID-related questions, especially in the social sciences?

I think from the social science standpoint, we will have a lot of value to add later. A lot of the value we can eventually add to that analysis is going to be around: What are the impacts of learning loss on kids? How can we think about fixing that? Are there things that work better or worse? That’s not something we can answer this week. I think academics in general have struggled a little bit with the fact that there’s a lot of need for information right now. And that’s not really our thing.

Even for me, I’ve tried to be very clear that the stuff I’m doing about schools, this isn’t research. It’s not research in the way that I would typically approach research; it’s a public service project. I am using the research tools I have to try to make the data as good as possible, but I’m not trying to write a paper with these crowdsourced data from districts. I’m trying to help people figure out if schools should be open or not.

One question that surfaced last spring and reemerged in the fall much more urgently is: What school is for? We’ve been papering over disagreements about the answer to that question for a long time, and then suddenly we couldn’t anymore. So what is school for?

School is serving two roles. It is a child care solution and it is teaching people to learn. At the beginning, it was like: “What do you mean? School is not child care! I’m not a -babysitter!”

First of all, I found that a little disrespectful to people. What’s wrong with having part of your job be child care? That’s a totally reasonable job.

But the other thing is it’s not really fair to say to parents: “Can’t you take care of your own kid?” You told me I have to put my kid in school eight hours a day! That is literally a law; it is a law that my kid has to be in school. And now you’re telling me that the expectation should also be that I am free for all of that time, even though I’m legally required to not have my kid here. So it’s odd that we’ve set up this whole system in which people are required to go to school and then we’re going to be, like, “Well, school’s not your child care.” You told me it has to be!

Part of what tamped that whole discussion down is that, actually, remote learning is also not good for the learning piece of school. Once people realized that [kids] can’t learn in that environment, it became a little bit less compelling to say, “Well, I’m not your child care.”

Because of the focus on physical safety, schools ended up asking teachers to pivot to online or hybrid or, if the kids are in the classroom, changing curricula to accommodate safety requirements. Teachers unions are saying, “We are advocating for teachers,” but they’re definitely also making the teachers’ lives substantially harder and more unpleasant in a lot of ways. A lot of your work is about how to think about tradeoffs. What went wrong in the unions’ thinking about tradeoffs here?

I was on a webinar with the CEO of Chicago Public Schools the other day, and she was saying basically that because they’ve gotten so wrapped up in these safety things, they have not really been able to address what she thinks is a much bigger issue, which is that this is a very, very hard teaching environment. There are ways that you could improve it.

If we were redesigning now, we would do it totally differently. This hybrid thing where people are [teaching] both kinds of kids at the same time, that is not good. There was this district in North Dakota that explained to me that what they did was basically, at the beginning of the year, there’s a six-week block and you opt in to being a regular kid who comes five days a week, or you can be a virtual kid. The virtual kids are taught in a totally different stream, by virtual teachers in a virtual academy. And the in-person kids are in person in a regular school environment. And then every six weeks, the kids could change what environment they were in. I think that was a much better structure and much more sustainable than what they’re apparently going to ask people to do in the Chicago public schools, where the kids in the classroom are on computers with their headphones, because everyone has to have exactly the same learning environment. That’s just not good.

Thinking about tradeoffs can actually be more difficult when you’re talking about it as a public policy choice rather than as an individual choice.

The problems with that were more significant in places where the labor relations were worse. In places with more functional labor relations, we have a little bit of an easier time encouraging people to come together.

Your forthcoming book is called The Family Firm, and it focuses on helping families with older kids do better management and strategic decision making. With so many families making relatively high-stakes decisions under COVID, is there anything you can preview from that book about how to be better at making those decisions?

In many ways, COVID only amplified a lot of the issues I grapple with in The Family Firm. Early in the pandemic, I wrote in my newsletter on a five-step process for making decisions during COVID. The processes I outline in The Family Firm draw a lot from this but turn them to more general questions. It’s not just COVID risks and benefits to think about but a broader set of evidence to evaluate. In both settings, I keep coming back to the key bookends: Start by thinking about framing the question you’re asking and end by making a decision. This may seem facile, but whether in COVID or not, my sense is that people do not often stop to think about what they really see as the choice they are making, and they allow decisions to fester far too long.

A lot of family decision making is around education. How do you think the disruption of COVID might change the way families think about their choices?

I’m not sure! Some families have already pulled their children from public schools and put them in private or Catholic options which are doing in-person learning. I wonder if this will generate a long-term move in that direction. A lot of trust has been lost here. I think the other central issue for me is that this has really reinforced school-level inequalities. I think we’ll see a further reckoning about how we serve kids with fewer means.

In your newsletter this morning, you wrote: “As salient as it is, COVID-19 is not the only thing going on in people’s lives.” It was part of a plea for compassion as we look at other people’s choices. You have become a target for people’s ire about the fact that all the choices are bad. Where does that crop up the most?

People feel like our data have been used to make people go teach in their schools and they don’t like that. That was the context for this [angry] email this morning—somebody who wrote, “My family is going to die and our blood is going to be on your hands.”

But the other piece is thinking about how we can realistically message but also recognize that there are other things going on in people’s lives. There’s a danger of just going too far and stating this risk as if it is a totally different thing than all other risks anyone would ever face. That’s not right.

But then people push back on that. It does feel to many people like this is a totally different risk and it is the only thing anyone should ever be thinking about.

This interview has been condensed and edited for style and clarity.

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The Economist Who Says Schools Are Safer Than You Think

interview2

Emily Oster is a Harvard-educated economist at Brown University—not the usual launching pad for gurudom. But she is nonetheless the sage at the center of a low-key cult. She popped onto the scene when her dissertation findings on “missing girls” in China were picked up by Freakonomics authors Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner but ascended to a higher plane when she applied her background in health economics and statistical methods to pregnancy and childbirth in her 2013 book Expecting Better. She did the same for toddlers and infants in 2019’s Cribsheet; a third book in the series, The Family Firm, will be out this summer.

In a certain parental set, Oster’s books are passed around slightly furtively, with the air of letting someone in on a secret. Her goal is to help parents translate academic literature into actionable items, but she often ends up serving as a counterpoint to the anxious, overcautious parenting advice doled out in glossy mags and on playgrounds.

When you are an economist who tells pregnant women that research suggests it’s OK to have the occasional wine and sushi, you will be welcomed as a liberator. When you explain that sleep training and formula don’t show serious long-term negative effects, you will be worshipped. You will also be vilified by the keepers of the conventional wisdom, of course, and Oster has gotten her share of hate mail.

Enter COVID-19. As the pandemic shuttered schools for months, especially in coastal cities, Oster wondered whether that decision was justified. Unsurprisingly, given how new the disease was, not much definitive scholarship was available. More surprisingly, there wasn’t much good raw data either. No one seemed to be keeping track of what schools were doing and whether there seemed to be any impact on positivity rates.

That’s how Oster found herself serving as a COVID-in-schools data miner and later as a cautious advocate for reopening schools, a case she made in such outlets as The AtlanticThe New York Times, and her own Substack newsletter. Messages like “Schools Aren’t Super-Spreaders” and “Parents Can’t Wait Around Forever” have earned her the same mix of grateful relief and furious suspicion as did her previous work.

Reason‘s Katherine Mangu-Ward spoke with Emily Oster in December via Zoom, while Oster’s kids were home from their school in Rhode Island for a snow day (“yes, you can watch TV”) and new lockdowns were kicking in as COVID spiked around the country.

Reason: You collected a bunch of data and set up a data dashboard to track COVID in K-12 schools. I’m sure you’re doing a good job, but why wasn’t this being done by, say, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention?

Oster: I don’t totally know. There were a lot of failures in federal leadership in this pandemic and this was one of them. There was this opportunity to set up a more centralized, government-run data collection effort, and it just didn’t happen. States were very slow to get started and [had] little consistency across the space. So what prompted us was the realization that there’s a ton of discussion with school reopening in the Northeast and on the West Coast, and we are seeing schools reopen in Georgia, Indiana—places with really high positivity rates. It felt like there was an opportunity to learn, but nobody was getting the information we would need to learn from that.

There are so many federal failures, I don’t know whether this one is worse than some of the other ones; it’s hard to pick which is the worst one.

There’s the old saw about states being laboratories of democracy. States really leaned into that with COVID, didn’t they? We got a strangely robust set of experiments on different variables. What data did you collect and what data do you wish you could have collected?

The core underlying pieces of the dashboard are information on cases, information on enrollments, and in-person counts—we want a rate, and for a rate, you need a numerator and denominator. So those are the two most key pieces.

The second most important [thing] is mitigation strategies: Are places masking? Are they distancing? What can we learn about what works to keep places safe? We have all of those pieces from districts that have decided to be in our study. We have some of those pieces from the couple of states that have been consistent with this kind of reporting. The best reporting comes out of New York, where they actually have, for every school, counts of cases and information on enrollments, and they require schools to put that in. Texas has a similar—not quite as good, but almost as good—infrastructure. So we pulled that down also.

The thing that would have been great is to have somebody tell states: These are the pieces of data you should be collecting. And in particular, actually knowing, at a minimum, the reopening plan for a state or for a district: Are you open or not? That would be great.

I’ve talked to a lot of states and almost none of them have said, “Well, we don’t want to tell you that.” But many of them said, “Well, we don’t know that. We don’t know how many COVID cases. We don’t know how many kids are in school. And we don’t know the reopening models of our districts.”

What are your (preliminary) conclusions so far about school reopening and safety?

I want to step back and say what we were thinking when we started. There was a really open question: Are schools going to be the locus of tremendous spread? That conversation has shifted a lot, but in the summer there was this idea that we’re going to open schools and that’s going to be the thing that destroys everything.

That does not seem to be true. We’re not seeing schools as the locus of large amounts of spread. The rates are actually quite low—even though the way we measure rates, just to be clear, is not spread in schools, but just people affiliated with schools who have COVID. So it doesn’t mean they got it at the school. But even there, we’re seeing rates that are pretty much in line with what we’re seeing in the community. Maybe a little bit lower for students, maybe a little bit higher for staff.

We’re seeing fairly optimistic information about the idea that you could have schools operate safely, even in areas where there’s some reasonable amount of community spread. Masking probably does matter. That’s probably the most robust correlate in the data, that those places that are masking seem to have much lower rates than places that are not. But I think the thing that we got the most attention for—rightly, because it moved people’s priors a lot—was just this idea that not everyone at the school got COVID the day it opened.

We are seeing some of these differences across age groups. To the extent that there are places with larger numbers of cases, they seem to be high schools.

But not nearly as large as colleges, right?

I think that’s been a really interesting aspect of this, which is that we have seen the thing that people feared at the college level. Not at all colleges, but a lot. When Penn State opened, you could see on a COVID map where Penn State is, because it was just totally overwhelmed. In some ways I find it actually surprising that we have not seen more high schools that looked like that. And I’m not sure why that’s so different.

Over the summer, there really wasn’t a consensus about what reopening K-12 schools would mean. It is now broadly accepted that opening, particularly elementary schools, is almost certainly not going to trigger a massive uptick in cases or fatalities. But policy making seems to lag that shift in conventional wisdom. Why?

I think you’re right that the conventional wisdom shifted. Many people moved to: “Oh, actually, the science is not what I thought it would be.” And there are a lot of places that are open. A lot of this discussion is happening on the sides of the country—we forget that there are a lot of kids who have been in person in school. I live in Rhode Island, where the schools are open. That’s not unrelated to this observation. I think that the governor listened and this was something that was important to her. Chicago is going to try. New York is trying, in a sense. There are some movements in that direction, but there has been a lot of resistance.

There’s been a lot of resistance from the unions. Some of that they’ve walked back a little bit. [President of the American Federation of Teachers] Randi Weingarten has walked back to saying we should have K-5. That’s something. Other unions have walked less back. The politics of this got really complicated and it’s been hard to ramp them back. I think that the Biden administration will be able to do that more easily because the fact that he is saying schools should be open is really different than [President Donald] Trump saying it. I think that’s been good, but it’s uphill. We haven’t moved as much as I would’ve liked.

When we last talked, for a Reason podcast about your work on pregnancy and early childhood, we discussed how some people interpreted your work as giving them permission to do stuff they wanted to do anyway that felt like common sense to them—drink an occasional glass of wine, eat sushi, use baby formula. With those books, you got some pushback from obstetricians and pediatricians. There are some parallels with your COVID work, including pushback from teachers, unions, and school districts on the idea that it might be OK to open schools. How has your experience with the medical establishment shaped the way that you’re dealing with the education establishment?

It’s a fair comparison. In both cases, a lot of the pushback was “You’re not an expert.” I spend a lot of time with people telling me that I’m not an expert in things, probably because I spend a lot of time talking about things which I’m not much of an expert in. One of the things that the pushback misses is that there are some pieces of this in which I am an expert: data and statistics and thinking about decision making. I find that pushback frustrating, but also very familiar.

The main way in which I have thought about this differently is that I actually tried to listen a little bit more. In the case of the school stuff, at some point I realized that we had made the point about data and people had accepted the data, but as you say, that’s not the whole thing. And sometimes there’s value if you actually want to get things changed. This is a little different than the pregnancy thing, because I wasn’t trying to get any particular policy change there. I don’t particularly think [policy makers] should say it’s fine to drink during pregnancy.

Here, it feels like there really is a policy point. There was a point where I said: OK, the data is not going to be enough. I need to make it clear that there are other things going on and incorporate that into some of my thinking. That insight was probably informed by having dealt before with people who are never totally going to back down.

Talk a little bit about the culture of academic inquiry around COVID-related questions. Are people asking the right questions now? Is there work that will have to be done after it’s over, to be useful for the next pandemic? How is the research community dealing with COVID-related questions, especially in the social sciences?

I think from the social science standpoint, we will have a lot of value to add later. A lot of the value we can eventually add to that analysis is going to be around: What are the impacts of learning loss on kids? How can we think about fixing that? Are there things that work better or worse? That’s not something we can answer this week. I think academics in general have struggled a little bit with the fact that there’s a lot of need for information right now. And that’s not really our thing.

Even for me, I’ve tried to be very clear that the stuff I’m doing about schools, this isn’t research. It’s not research in the way that I would typically approach research; it’s a public service project. I am using the research tools I have to try to make the data as good as possible, but I’m not trying to write a paper with these crowdsourced data from districts. I’m trying to help people figure out if schools should be open or not.

One question that surfaced last spring and reemerged in the fall much more urgently is: What school is for? We’ve been papering over disagreements about the answer to that question for a long time, and then suddenly we couldn’t anymore. So what is school for?

School is serving two roles. It is a child care solution and it is teaching people to learn. At the beginning, it was like: “What do you mean? School is not child care! I’m not a -babysitter!”

First of all, I found that a little disrespectful to people. What’s wrong with having part of your job be child care? That’s a totally reasonable job.

But the other thing is it’s not really fair to say to parents: “Can’t you take care of your own kid?” You told me I have to put my kid in school eight hours a day! That is literally a law; it is a law that my kid has to be in school. And now you’re telling me that the expectation should also be that I am free for all of that time, even though I’m legally required to not have my kid here. So it’s odd that we’ve set up this whole system in which people are required to go to school and then we’re going to be, like, “Well, school’s not your child care.” You told me it has to be!

Part of what tamped that whole discussion down is that, actually, remote learning is also not good for the learning piece of school. Once people realized that [kids] can’t learn in that environment, it became a little bit less compelling to say, “Well, I’m not your child care.”

Because of the focus on physical safety, schools ended up asking teachers to pivot to online or hybrid or, if the kids are in the classroom, changing curricula to accommodate safety requirements. Teachers unions are saying, “We are advocating for teachers,” but they’re definitely also making the teachers’ lives substantially harder and more unpleasant in a lot of ways. A lot of your work is about how to think about tradeoffs. What went wrong in the unions’ thinking about tradeoffs here?

I was on a webinar with the CEO of Chicago Public Schools the other day, and she was saying basically that because they’ve gotten so wrapped up in these safety things, they have not really been able to address what she thinks is a much bigger issue, which is that this is a very, very hard teaching environment. There are ways that you could improve it.

If we were redesigning now, we would do it totally differently. This hybrid thing where people are [teaching] both kinds of kids at the same time, that is not good. There was this district in North Dakota that explained to me that what they did was basically, at the beginning of the year, there’s a six-week block and you opt in to being a regular kid who comes five days a week, or you can be a virtual kid. The virtual kids are taught in a totally different stream, by virtual teachers in a virtual academy. And the in-person kids are in person in a regular school environment. And then every six weeks, the kids could change what environment they were in. I think that was a much better structure and much more sustainable than what they’re apparently going to ask people to do in the Chicago public schools, where the kids in the classroom are on computers with their headphones, because everyone has to have exactly the same learning environment. That’s just not good.

Thinking about tradeoffs can actually be more difficult when you’re talking about it as a public policy choice rather than as an individual choice.

The problems with that were more significant in places where the labor relations were worse. In places with more functional labor relations, we have a little bit of an easier time encouraging people to come together.

Your forthcoming book is called The Family Firm, and it focuses on helping families with older kids do better management and strategic decision making. With so many families making relatively high-stakes decisions under COVID, is there anything you can preview from that book about how to be better at making those decisions?

In many ways, COVID only amplified a lot of the issues I grapple with in The Family Firm. Early in the pandemic, I wrote in my newsletter on a five-step process for making decisions during COVID. The processes I outline in The Family Firm draw a lot from this but turn them to more general questions. It’s not just COVID risks and benefits to think about but a broader set of evidence to evaluate. In both settings, I keep coming back to the key bookends: Start by thinking about framing the question you’re asking and end by making a decision. This may seem facile, but whether in COVID or not, my sense is that people do not often stop to think about what they really see as the choice they are making, and they allow decisions to fester far too long.

A lot of family decision making is around education. How do you think the disruption of COVID might change the way families think about their choices?

I’m not sure! Some families have already pulled their children from public schools and put them in private or Catholic options which are doing in-person learning. I wonder if this will generate a long-term move in that direction. A lot of trust has been lost here. I think the other central issue for me is that this has really reinforced school-level inequalities. I think we’ll see a further reckoning about how we serve kids with fewer means.

In your newsletter this morning, you wrote: “As salient as it is, COVID-19 is not the only thing going on in people’s lives.” It was part of a plea for compassion as we look at other people’s choices. You have become a target for people’s ire about the fact that all the choices are bad. Where does that crop up the most?

People feel like our data have been used to make people go teach in their schools and they don’t like that. That was the context for this [angry] email this morning—somebody who wrote, “My family is going to die and our blood is going to be on your hands.”

But the other piece is thinking about how we can realistically message but also recognize that there are other things going on in people’s lives. There’s a danger of just going too far and stating this risk as if it is a totally different thing than all other risks anyone would ever face. That’s not right.

But then people push back on that. It does feel to many people like this is a totally different risk and it is the only thing anyone should ever be thinking about.

This interview has been condensed and edited for style and clarity.

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Preserve Your Sanity by Preserving Food

topicslifestyle

While eating from cans is far from my preferred sustenance, putting my own food into them for later consumption is a different matter. Throughout 2020—a year we could have skipped—my family took to home-canning food even as we expanded a garden that we hope will provide us with more to store. It’s a means of armoring ourselves against a world that seems determined to throw every possible challenge our way and of turning our focus from insane headlines to comforting home activities.

For us, a big spur was the supply disruptions, when chicken, ground beef, canned goods, and other foods disappeared from markets and were rationed when available. We got in the habit of grabbing and storing goods as they appeared. But the chest freezer has limited capacity. And what do you do with a bonanza of apples for sale at 19 cents a pound?

One thing we could do with those apples, we remembered, was make apple butter and can it for future use. That is, if we could find the requisite materials.

My wife and I had dabbled in canning, but long enough ago that we were caught scrambling for high-demand supplies like everybody else when COVID-19 and then summer unrest revived interest in food preservation. While many people searched high and low for reusable jars and single-use lids, we were lucky to find a supply of pint and quart containers locally.

The big score came when, on a hunch, I popped into a supermarket in an area transitioning from small ranch properties to suburban development. Sure enough, the chain’s distribution algorithms were a bit behind the times, and the store’s food-preservation section was a treasure trove. We ended up with an assortment of jars from big-name makers Kerr and Ball and even some lids from Canada’s Bernardin. Those brands are all owned by the same parent company, and their components are interchangeable.

Our stock pot was perfect for water-bath canning of tomato sauce—basically, ladling sauce into jars, popping lids on, and immersing them in boiling water for the time prescribed by the recipe. But water-bath canning works only for high-acid foods like pickles and spaghetti sauce to which you’ve added a healthy dollop of citric acid.

Our apple butter probably could have been water-bathed, but we preferred the greater safety of pressure canning. That process is necessary for any meat product, such as the chili and lamb stew that we simmered up to free space in the freezer and to have shelf-stable meals ready to go. So we broke out our 16-quart pressure canner/cooker, adjusted the process for our altitude, and filled the kitchen with cooking odors.

To avoid a DIY health emergency in an already interesting time, we pulled instructions from the University of Georgia’s National Center for Home Food Preservation website, the Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving, and Diane Devereaux’s The Complete Guide to Pressure Canning, among other resources. Even if you’ve canned before (or learned from Grandma), it’s worth checking out the most current information. Research and experience have refined home preservation in ways that sometimes make it less tricky than in the past.

Canning isn’t our only means of smoothing out bumps caused by supply disruptions. An unexpected oversupply of tomatoes, halved, seeded, and spread on screens, dried in no time for future use in salads, sauces, and gazpacho. We gave similar treatment to most of our basil once the first frost rolled in. It wasn’t my first experience with dried herbs, but it was definitely the tastiest. To make sure we wouldn’t have to buy everything we cooked and canned in the months to come, my son and I knocked together raised beds to expand the garden we panic-planted last spring.

All of this effort gives us a sense of self-reliance in an uncertain era. That’s not the same as complete autonomy, which is unrealistic. But a bit of do-it-yourself security is reassuring when times are tough. Cooking, preserving, and gardening are enjoyable for us too. The necessary effort and focus become a bit zen as they consume our attention and take our minds off the world’s troubles. And what a good year to distract ourselves from the worries of the moment by preparing a well-fed future.

from Latest – Reason.com https://ift.tt/3iT4A0Y
via IFTTT

Preserve Your Sanity by Preserving Food

topicslifestyle

While eating from cans is far from my preferred sustenance, putting my own food into them for later consumption is a different matter. Throughout 2020—a year we could have skipped—my family took to home-canning food even as we expanded a garden that we hope will provide us with more to store. It’s a means of armoring ourselves against a world that seems determined to throw every possible challenge our way and of turning our focus from insane headlines to comforting home activities.

For us, a big spur was the supply disruptions, when chicken, ground beef, canned goods, and other foods disappeared from markets and were rationed when available. We got in the habit of grabbing and storing goods as they appeared. But the chest freezer has limited capacity. And what do you do with a bonanza of apples for sale at 19 cents a pound?

One thing we could do with those apples, we remembered, was make apple butter and can it for future use. That is, if we could find the requisite materials.

My wife and I had dabbled in canning, but long enough ago that we were caught scrambling for high-demand supplies like everybody else when COVID-19 and then summer unrest revived interest in food preservation. While many people searched high and low for reusable jars and single-use lids, we were lucky to find a supply of pint and quart containers locally.

The big score came when, on a hunch, I popped into a supermarket in an area transitioning from small ranch properties to suburban development. Sure enough, the chain’s distribution algorithms were a bit behind the times, and the store’s food-preservation section was a treasure trove. We ended up with an assortment of jars from big-name makers Kerr and Ball and even some lids from Canada’s Bernardin. Those brands are all owned by the same parent company, and their components are interchangeable.

Our stock pot was perfect for water-bath canning of tomato sauce—basically, ladling sauce into jars, popping lids on, and immersing them in boiling water for the time prescribed by the recipe. But water-bath canning works only for high-acid foods like pickles and spaghetti sauce to which you’ve added a healthy dollop of citric acid.

Our apple butter probably could have been water-bathed, but we preferred the greater safety of pressure canning. That process is necessary for any meat product, such as the chili and lamb stew that we simmered up to free space in the freezer and to have shelf-stable meals ready to go. So we broke out our 16-quart pressure canner/cooker, adjusted the process for our altitude, and filled the kitchen with cooking odors.

To avoid a DIY health emergency in an already interesting time, we pulled instructions from the University of Georgia’s National Center for Home Food Preservation website, the Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving, and Diane Devereaux’s The Complete Guide to Pressure Canning, among other resources. Even if you’ve canned before (or learned from Grandma), it’s worth checking out the most current information. Research and experience have refined home preservation in ways that sometimes make it less tricky than in the past.

Canning isn’t our only means of smoothing out bumps caused by supply disruptions. An unexpected oversupply of tomatoes, halved, seeded, and spread on screens, dried in no time for future use in salads, sauces, and gazpacho. We gave similar treatment to most of our basil once the first frost rolled in. It wasn’t my first experience with dried herbs, but it was definitely the tastiest. To make sure we wouldn’t have to buy everything we cooked and canned in the months to come, my son and I knocked together raised beds to expand the garden we panic-planted last spring.

All of this effort gives us a sense of self-reliance in an uncertain era. That’s not the same as complete autonomy, which is unrealistic. But a bit of do-it-yourself security is reassuring when times are tough. Cooking, preserving, and gardening are enjoyable for us too. The necessary effort and focus become a bit zen as they consume our attention and take our minds off the world’s troubles. And what a good year to distract ourselves from the worries of the moment by preparing a well-fed future.

from Latest – Reason.com https://ift.tt/3iT4A0Y
via IFTTT