newyorker--2020-05-26--Can Remote Work Be Fixed?

Can Remote Work Be Fixed?

In the nineteen-sixties , Jack Nilles , a physicist turned engineer , built long-range communications systems at the U.S. Air Force ’ s Aerial Reconnaissance Laboratory , near Dayton , Ohio .
Later , at NASA , in Houston , he helped design space probes that could send messages back to Earth .
In the early nineteen-seventies , as the director for interdisciplinary research at the University of Southern California , he became fascinated by a more terrestrial problem : traffic congestion .
Suburban sprawl and cheap gas were combining to create traffic jams ; more and more people were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In October , 1973 , the OPEC oil embargo began , and gas prices quadrupled .
America ’ s car-based work culture seemed suddenly unsustainable .
That year , Nilles published a book , “ The Telecommunications-Transportation Tradeoff , ” in which he and his co-authors argued that the congestion problem was actually a communications problem .
The personal computer hadn ’ t yet been invented , and there was no easy way to relocate work into the home .
But Nilles imagined a system that could ease the traffic crisis : if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ outskirts , then employees could commute to many different , closer locations , perhaps on foot or by bicycle .
A system of human messengers and mainframe computers could keep these distributed operations synchronized , replicating the communication that goes on within a single , shared office building .
Nilles coined the terms “ tele-commuting ” and “ telework ” to describe this hypothetical arrangement .
The satellite-office idea didn ’ t catch on , but it didn ’ t matter : over the next decade , advances in computer and network technology @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mother , a COBOL programmer for the Houston Chronicle , became one of the first true remote workers : in a bid to keep her from leaving—she was very good , and had a long commute—the paper set her up with an early-model , monochrome-screen PC , from which she “ dialled in ” to the paper ’ s I.B.M .
mainframe using a primitive modem , sending screens of code back and forth .
“ It was very slow , ” she told me recently .
“ You would watch the lines @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one.
” The technology wasn ’ t fast enough for widespread use—hours could pass while the computers synchronized—but the basic template for remote work had been set .
In the following decades , technical advances arrived with increasing frequency .
In the nineteen-nineties , during the so-called I.T .
revolution , office workers started using networked PCs and teams embraced e-mail and file-sharing .
People began spending less time in meetings and on the phone and more time interacting with their computers .
As computer prices dropped , many bought comparable machines for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the same tools they used at work .
In 1994 , A.T. & T. held its first “ Employee Telecommuting Day ” ; in 1996 , the federal government launched a program to increase remote-work options for its employees .
In the early two-thousands , broadband Internet made home connections substantially faster , and , in 2003 , a pair of European programmers released Skype , which took advantage of this broadband explosion to enable cheap audio communication .
In 2004 , they added conference-call capabilities , and , in 2006 , video @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their program had been downloaded half a billion times .
Office work seemed on the brink of a profound shift .
Instead of commuting into crowded cities , white-collar workers would soon relocate to more affordable , bucolic areas ; they ’ d enjoy flexible schedules , picking up their kids from school and sitting down for family dinners after productive days at home .
Some people envisioned more radical departures .
In his book “ The 4-Hour Workweek , ” from 2007 , Timothy Ferriss , a twenty-nine-year-old entrepreneur , suggested that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ employers and then move to parts of the world where the cost of living was low .
( Argentina was experiencing a currency crisis , and so could be a good spot for such “ geo-arbitrage , ” Ferris wrote . )
Unsupervised by bosses , these ultra-remote workers could do their jobs in highly efficient bursts , enjoying lavish lives of leisure the rest of the time .
“ The 4-Hour Workweek ” became a huge best-seller .
But just when the remote-work revolution looked inevitable , it lost momentum .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
of Yahoo , Marissa Mayer , put a stop to all remote work at the company by means of an all-hands memo from H.R .
“ Speed and quality are often sacrificed when we work from home , ” the memo read .
“ We need to be one Yahoo !
, and that starts with physically being together.
” I.B.M.
, Hewlett-Packard , Best Buy , and other companies curtailed their telework programs ; Silicon Valley companies became known for the ludic enticements—free meals , coffee bars , climbing gyms—that they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
A month after the Yahoo memo landed , an article in Business Insider lauded Google ’ s Corporate Concierge team , which helped its engineers accomplish mundane personal tasks , such as planning dinner parties or finding Halloween costumes .
“ Employees who work for the search giant don ’ t have to worry about much besides their work , ” it concluded .
Today , remote work is the exception rather than the norm .
“ Flexible work ” arrangements tend to be seen as a perk ; a 2018 survey @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of American employees worked from home more than half of the time .
And yet the technological infrastructure designed for telecommuting hasn ’ t gone away .
It ’ s what enables employees to answer e-mails on the subway or draft pre-dawn memos in their kitchens .
Jack Nilles dreamed of remote work replacing office work , but the plan backfired : using advanced telecommunications technologies , we now work from home while also commuting .
We work everywhere .
As spring gives way to summer , and we enter the uncertain second @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s unclear when , or whether , knowledge workers will return to their offices .
Citigroup recently told its employees to expect a slow transition out of lockdown , with many employees staying out of the office until next year .
Jack Dorsey , the C.E.O .
of Twitter , went even further , announcing in an e-mail that those whose jobs didn ’ t require a physical presence would be allowed to work from home indefinitely .
In a press statement , Twitter ’ s head of H.R .
said that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the same , ” adding , “ I do think we won ’ t go back.
” Not every company will want to embrace remote work so fully , but , to protect worker health and reduce corporate liability , many will have no choice but to allow significantly more telework for months or perhaps years to come .
Offices in Asia may provide us with a glimpse of the American future : restrictions have eased in a number of Asian cities , but at Microsoft Asia ’ s offices , in China @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s six thousand employees have returned to in-person work .
At Nanjing University , many administrative staff members have adopted interlocking schedules in which they work only a few in-person days each week , minimizing the number of people on campus at any given time ; coffee shops in Hong Kong , which have recently reopened , are reportedly filled with remote workers looking to get out of the house .
It ’ s possible , as the pandemic unfolds , that offices which have returned will have to go remote again @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an extended period during which even reopened offices will remain only partially occupied , with most meetings including at least a few participants joining from home .

In the nineteen-sixties, Jack Nilles, a physicist turned engineer, built long-range communications systems at the U.S. Air Force’s Aerial Reconnaissance Laboratory, near Dayton, Ohio. Later, at NASA, in Houston, he helped design space probes that could send messages back to Earth. In the early nineteen-seventies, as the director for interdisciplinary research at the University of Southern California, he became fascinated by a more terrestrial problem: traffic congestion. Suburban sprawl and cheap gas were combining to create traffic jams; more and more people were commuting into the same city centers. In October, 1973, the OPEC oil embargo began, and gas prices quadrupled. America’s car-based work culture seemed suddenly unsustainable.
That year, Nilles published a book, “The Telecommunications-Transportation Tradeoff,” in which he and his co-authors argued that the congestion problem was actually a communications problem. The personal computer hadn’t yet been invented, and there was no easy way to relocate work into the home. But Nilles imagined a system that could ease the traffic crisis: if companies built small satellite offices in city outskirts, then employees could commute to many different, closer locations, perhaps on foot or by bicycle. A system of human messengers and mainframe computers could keep these distributed operations synchronized, replicating the communication that goes on within a single, shared office building. Nilles coined the terms “tele-commuting” and “telework” to describe this hypothetical arrangement.
The satellite-office idea didn’t catch on, but it didn’t matter: over the next decade, advances in computer and network technology leapfrogged it. In 1986, my mother, a COBOL programmer for the Houston Chronicle, became one of the first true remote workers: in a bid to keep her from leaving—she was very good, and had a long commute—the paper set her up with an early-model, monochrome-screen PC, from which she “dialled in” to the paper’s I.B.M. mainframe using a primitive modem, sending screens of code back and forth. “It was very slow,” she told me recently. “You would watch the lines load on the screen, one by one.” The technology wasn’t fast enough for widespread use—hours could pass while the computers synchronized—but the basic template for remote work had been set.
In the following decades, technical advances arrived with increasing frequency. In the nineteen-nineties, during the so-called I.T. revolution, office workers started using networked PCs and teams embraced e-mail and file-sharing. People began spending less time in meetings and on the phone and more time interacting with their computers. As computer prices dropped, many bought comparable machines for their homes, using modems to access the same tools they used at work. In 1994, A.T. & T. held its first “Employee Telecommuting Day”; in 1996, the federal government launched a program to increase remote-work options for its employees. In the early two-thousands, broadband Internet made home connections substantially faster, and, in 2003, a pair of European programmers released Skype, which took advantage of this broadband explosion to enable cheap audio communication. In 2004, they added conference-call capabilities, and, in 2006, video conferencing. By the next year, their program had been downloaded half a billion times.
Office work seemed on the brink of a profound shift. Instead of commuting into crowded cities, white-collar workers would soon relocate to more affordable, bucolic areas; they’d enjoy flexible schedules, picking up their kids from school and sitting down for family dinners after productive days at home. Some people envisioned more radical departures. In his book “The 4-Hour Workweek,” from 2007, Timothy Ferriss, a twenty-nine-year-old entrepreneur, suggested that readers aggressively negotiate remote-work agreements with their employers and then move to parts of the world where the cost of living was low. (Argentina was experiencing a currency crisis, and so could be a good spot for such “geo-arbitrage,” Ferriss wrote.) Unsupervised by bosses, these ultra-remote workers could do their jobs in highly efficient bursts, enjoying lavish lives of leisure the rest of the time.
“The 4-Hour Workweek” became a huge best-seller. But just when the remote-work revolution looked inevitable, it lost momentum. In February, 2013, the recently-appointed C.E.O. of Yahoo, Marissa Mayer, put a stop to all remote work at the company by means of an all-hands memo from H.R. “Speed and quality are often sacrificed when we work from home,” the memo read. “We need to be one Yahoo!, and that starts with physically being together.” I.B.M., Hewlett-Packard, Best Buy, and other companies curtailed their telework programs; Silicon Valley companies became known for the ludic enticements—free meals, coffee bars, climbing gyms—that they used to keep workers at the office. A month after the Yahoo memo landed, an article in Business Insider lauded Google’s Corporate Concierge team, which helped its engineers accomplish mundane personal tasks, such as planning dinner parties or finding Halloween costumes. “Employees who work for the search giant don’t have to worry about much besides their work,” it concluded.
Today, remote work is the exception rather than the norm. “Flexible work” arrangements tend to be seen as a perk; a 2018 survey found that only around three per cent of American employees worked from home more than half of the time. And yet the technological infrastructure designed for telecommuting hasn’t gone away. It’s what enables employees to answer e-mails on the subway or draft pre-dawn memos in their kitchens. Jack Nilles dreamed of remote work replacing office work, but the plan backfired: using advanced telecommunications technologies, we now work from home while also commuting. We work everywhere.
As spring gives way to summer, and we enter the uncertain second phase of the coronavirus pandemic, it’s unclear when, or whether, knowledge workers will return to their offices. Citigroup recently told its employees to expect a slow transition out of lockdown, with many employees staying out of the office until next year. Jack Dorsey, the C.E.O. of Twitter, went even further, announcing in an e-mail that those whose jobs didn’t require a physical presence would be allowed to work from home indefinitely. In a press statement, Twitter’s head of H.R. said that the company would “never probably be the same,” adding, “I do think we won’t go back.”
Not every company will want to embrace remote work so fully, but, to protect worker health and reduce corporate liability, many will have no choice but to allow significantly more telework for months or perhaps years to come. Offices in Asia may provide us with a glimpse of the American future: restrictions have eased in a number of Asian cities, but at Microsoft Asia’s offices, in China, only around half of the company’s six thousand employees have returned to in-person work. At Nanjing University, many administrative staff members have adopted interlocking schedules in which they work only a few in-person days each week, minimizing the number of people on campus at any given time; coffee shops in Hong Kong, which have recently reopened, are reportedly filled with remote workers looking to get out of the house. It’s possible, as the pandemic unfolds, that offices which have returned will have to go remote again. It’s plausible to expect an extended period during which even reopened offices will remain only partially occupied, with most meetings including at least a few participants joining from home.
For those who wish that the remote revolution had succeeded, it’s tempting to think that the pandemic has pushed aside the main obstacle to its success: the reluctance of bosses. Managers are often seen as standing in the way of working from home. A corner office isn’t as impressive over Zoom, and, conversely, it’s easier for a boss to keep track of employees when she can see them at their desks or in the hall. A week after the Yahoo memo was distributed, the technology journalist Kara Swisher reported that Mayer had been motivated, in part, by a review of the company’s network logs, which showed that remote employees were spending long periods of time logged out of Yahoo’s servers. In a 2013 essay published in Wired titled “Yahoo’s Mayer is Right: Work-from-Home Employees Are Less Efficient,” a software-company executive articulated a view that many managers likely share: “People who come into the office just get more done. . . . Maybe they just have a better idea of what is expected of them.”
Bosses’ need to boss was surely a factor in the defeat of remote work. But there were other, entirely legitimate reasons for companies to retreat from it, and they are just as relevant today as they were a decade ago. The Yahoo memo, for example, emphasized an obvious problem with telecommuting: the loss of face-to-face interaction. A successful workplace, its authors wrote, depends on “interactions and experiences that are only possible” in the office, such as “hallway and cafeteria discussions, meeting new people, and impromptu team meetings.” In theory, technology enables remote equivalents for these in-person encounters: in 1986, when my mother worked from a bedroom in our Houston suburb, she was alone with her computer, while today a remote worker can trade Slack messages and convene video summits. And yet these advances have never really added up to a complete substitute for the office experience. A gallery of thumbnail-size co-workers on a laptop screen is a diminished simulacrum of the conference-table gatherings that drive so much of corporate life. Yahoo is hardly the only organization to have concluded that the richness of in-person interaction is irreplaceable. During the Second World War—at what, in retrospect, was the dawn of electronic telework—American and British military commanders regularly exchanged telegraph messages and held secure phone conversations. Even so, with surprising frequency, high-level officials undertook risky transatlantic crossings to meet in person. Military planners realized that being physically together mattered.


newyorker--2020-05-26--David Means Reads “Two Nurses, Smoking”

David Means Reads “Two Nurses, Smoking”

David Means reads his short story from the June 1 , 2020 , issue of the magazine .
Means is @ @ @ @ @ “ Hystopia ” and five story collections , including “ The Spot ” and “ @ @ @ @ @ ” which was published last year .

Photograph from Getty
David Means reads his short story from the June 1, 2020, issue of the magazine. Means is the author of the novel “Hystopia” and five story collections, including “The Spot” and “Instructions for a Funeral,” which was published last year.


newyorker--2020-05-26--How the Coronavirus Revealed the Hollowness of Putin’s “Vertical of Power”

From the moment Vladimir Putin first took office , more than twenty years ago , he has returned time and again to the idea of the “ vertical of power , ” or a top-down apparatus of state authority that has become a trademark of his rule .
This “ vertical ” was pitched as an antidote to the supposed disarray and fecklessness of the Russian state in the nineties ; by contrast , Putin ’ s Russia would be run as a coherent , hierarchical machine , with him at the very top , and his will and decisions @ @ @ @ @ @ @ everyone from the country ’ s governors to its businesspeople , school principals , and spies .
The truth is that Putin ’ s supposed vertical has always been overhyped and riddled with inefficiencies—the Times Moscow correspondent Andrew Higgins skillfully documented its many “ shockingly ramshackle ” qualities last year—but , in the coronavirus pandemic , it has confronted an even starker challenge , one that can ’ t be overcome with bluster , oil wealth , or propaganda .
Gleb Pavlovsky , a former adviser to Putin who fell out with him @ @ @ @ @ @ @ told me that , for matters of both domestic and foreign consumption , the vertical was designed to make Putin look the man of decisive action , the “ commander-in-chief who is always ahead and manages to outplay everyone.
” But , as Pavlovsky added , “ The virus played a different game.
” As of May 26th , Russia has three hundred and sixty-two thousand registered cases of COVID-19 , placing it behind only the United States and Brazil in over-all numbers .
Thirty-eight hundred people have died , but that seems @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on data from Moscow health officials , the Times reported that Moscow alone recorded more than seventeen hundred excess deaths in April , far more than the official COVID-19 count of six hundred and forty-two deaths for the city .
( The Russian Foreign Ministry accused the Times and the Financial Times , which published similar reporting , of reporting “ disinformation.
” ) So far , Russia has managed to avoid an acute , localized catastrophe of the kind seen in Lombardy or New York City , even as Moscow hospitals were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ May .
But the response of the Russian federal government has clearly been spotty and piecemeal , with individual regions , hospitals , and doctors left to figure out how to deal with the pandemic on their own .
Putin ’ s much heralded vertical of power has proved flat-footed , even absent .
Putin himself periodically appeared on television to announce a series of rolling “ non-working holidays , ” leaving it up to individual regions to opt for lockdowns—or not—and declining to offer much in terms of economic relief .
His @ @ @ @ @ @ @ federal airwaves , but ended up portraying him as bored and disengaged .
Rather than coming off as the all-powerful strongman , Putin “ looks like an old , sick wolf , ” the political scientist Alexander Kynev told the Moscow Times .
Earlier this month , the independent polling agency Levada Center found that Putin had an approval rating of fifty-nine per cent , a historic low .
One of Putin ’ s signal pronouncements—that doctors and other medical personnel treating COVID-19 patients would receive bonuses from the state—has been marred by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of doctors all over the country complaining that they have nothing at all .
In multiple statements and meetings with officials , Putin expressed his displeasure at the problem , but still hundreds of medical workers treating patients from Siberia to the Caucasus continue to publicly complain about not receiving the promised money .
In early and mid-March , when the spectre of the pandemic was bearing down on Russia , Putin focussed on a different matter entirely : a constitutional referendum , initially planned for April 22nd , that was designed to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , allowing him to run again in 2024 ( and potentially even in 2030 ) .
“ He was preparing for the final act of perestroika of the entire political system , and the virus only got in the way , ” Pavlovsky told me .
When it became obvious that the referendum would have to be delayed , and that the coronavirus would instead become the central challenge to the state , neither Putin himself nor his vertical seemed interested in taking charge , or capable of doing so .
Putin let @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s mayor , serve as the public faces of enforced quarantine and other restrictive measures , and left coördination among regions to Mikhail Mishustin , the Prime Minister .
( In a sign of the virus ’ s reach , Mishustin himself came down with COVID-19 last month but recovered . )
Was Putin ’ s disinclination to seize a prominent role for himself a sign of aloof disinterest , a wariness of being associated with a story that could end badly , or simply an acknowledgment of political reality ?
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of theatrical façade , ” Pavlovsky told me .
“ It is good at producing the appearance of authority , but it doesn ’ t actually have managerial abilities or the ability to quickly mobilize resources.
” The myth of the vertical has served Putin well over the years , as he has been seen by various constituencies—from warring security and intelligence chiefs to rival businesspeople and oligarchs—as the singular arbiter capable of keeping the over-all system buoyant and profitable .
But that doesn ’ t help you in a crisis that is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rather than by political or emotional factors .
The point is not that Russia ’ s response to the pandemic has been horrible ; even with its high number of cases and dubious official death count , the country ’ s health-care system has avoided total collapse and a death toll so high that it would be impossible to hide .
Instead , regional officials and medical workers have responded to the spread of the virus largely on their own .
It turns out that the vertical is better at fostering a kind @ @ @ @ @ @ @ real power in a time of genuine crisis .
In an article for Republic , a news and politics Web site , Ivan Davydov , a political columnist in Moscow , described how the “ champions of geopolitical e-sports suddenly felt completely useless in the real world—confused and scared.
” Davydov added , “ Over the course of this virtual game , its players completely lost the skill of talking with the real Russia .
Suddenly , when the people need a state , it turns out the state was not built for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ inevitable result of the Putin system ’ s longevity ; after twenty years in power , Putin thinks of himself less as a politician and more as a “ messianic ” or “ historic ” hero , as Tatiana Stanovaya , the head of the analysis firm R.Politik , put it .
This period crystallized in 2014 , when Russia annexed Crimea and fuelled a would-be separatist insurgency in Ukraine .
Sanctions , opprobrium , and attempts at isolation followed—but Russia was again an undeniable force on the world stage .
“ If @ @ @ @ @ @ @ before the people and in some way was responsible to them , he now sees himself as standing before history , ” Stanovaya told me .
He is consumed with the idea of restoring Russia ’ s great-power status , and so the tasks that interest him are commensurate with this sweeping mission : navigating an oil-price war with Saudi Arabia and the United States ; dispatching Russian forces and paramilitaries around the Middle East to take advantage of the vacuum left by the U.S. ; and courting foreign leaders , whether Donald @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Stanovaya said that Putin sees “ social problems , ” of which COVID-19 is one , as “ too small compared to his great mission .
They ’ re simply not interesting to him ; they don ’ t rise to his level.
” ( Putin , though , relishes high-profile events like the military parade commemorating victory over Nazi Germany in the Second World War , normally held on May 9th .
In April , Putin delayed it indefinitely , citing the pandemic ; on Tuesday , he announced that it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ June 24th . )

From the moment Vladimir Putin first took office, more than twenty years ago, he has returned time and again to the idea of the “vertical of power,” or a top-down apparatus of state authority that has become a trademark of his rule. This “vertical” was pitched as an antidote to the supposed disarray and fecklessness of the Russian state in the nineties; by contrast, Putin’s Russia would be run as a coherent, hierarchical machine, with him at the very top, and his will and decisions flowing downward from there, implemented by everyone from the country’s governors to its businesspeople, school principals, and spies.
The truth is that Putin’s supposed vertical has always been overhyped and riddled with inefficiencies—the Times Moscow correspondent Andrew Higgins skillfully documented its many “shockingly ramshackle” qualities last year—but, in the coronavirus pandemic, it has confronted an even starker challenge, one that can’t be overcome with bluster, oil wealth, or propaganda. Gleb Pavlovsky, a former adviser to Putin who fell out with him and left the Kremlin in 2011, told me that, for matters of both domestic and foreign consumption, the vertical was designed to make Putin look the man of decisive action, the “commander-in-chief who is always ahead and manages to outplay everyone.” But, as Pavlovsky added, “The virus played a different game.”
As of May 26th, Russia has three hundred and sixty-two thousand registered cases of COVID-19, placing it behind only the United States and Brazil in over-all numbers. Thirty-eight hundred people have died, but that seems to be a vast underestimate: relying on data from Moscow health officials, the Times reported that Moscow alone recorded more than seventeen hundred excess deaths in April, far more than the official COVID-19 count of six hundred and forty-two deaths for the city. (The Russian Foreign Ministry accused the Times and the Financial Times, which published similar reporting, of reporting “disinformation.”) So far, Russia has managed to avoid an acute, localized catastrophe of the kind seen in Lombardy or New York City, even as Moscow hospitals were pushed to their capacity in April and May. But the response of the Russian federal government has clearly been spotty and piecemeal, with individual regions, hospitals, and doctors left to figure out how to deal with the pandemic on their own.
Putin’s much heralded vertical of power has proved flat-footed, even absent. Putin himself periodically appeared on television to announce a series of rolling “non-working holidays,” leaving it up to individual regions to opt for lockdowns—or not—and declining to offer much in terms of economic relief. His video-conference meetings with governors were broadcast on federal airwaves, but ended up portraying him as bored and disengaged. Rather than coming off as the all-powerful strongman, Putin “looks like an old, sick wolf,” the political scientist Alexander Kynev told the Moscow Times. Earlier this month, the independent polling agency Levada Center found that Putin had an approval rating of fifty-nine per cent, a historic low.
One of Putin’s signal pronouncements—that doctors and other medical personnel treating COVID-19 patients would receive bonuses from the state—has been marred by sporadic and delayed implementation, with scores of doctors all over the country complaining that they have nothing at all. In multiple statements and meetings with officials, Putin expressed his displeasure at the problem, but still hundreds of medical workers treating patients from Siberia to the Caucasus continue to publicly complain about not receiving the promised money.
In early and mid-March, when the spectre of the pandemic was bearing down on Russia, Putin focussed on a different matter entirely: a constitutional referendum, initially planned for April 22nd, that was designed to reset the clock on his Presidential terms, allowing him to run again in 2024 (and potentially even in 2030). “He was preparing for the final act of perestroika of the entire political system, and the virus only got in the way,” Pavlovsky told me.
When it became obvious that the referendum would have to be delayed, and that the coronavirus would instead become the central challenge to the state, neither Putin himself nor his vertical seemed interested in taking charge, or capable of doing so. Putin let others, like Sergey Sobyanin, Moscow’s mayor, serve as the public faces of enforced quarantine and other restrictive measures, and left coördination among regions to Mikhail Mishustin, the Prime Minister. (In a sign of the virus’s reach, Mishustin himself came down with COVID-19 last month but recovered.) Was Putin’s disinclination to seize a prominent role for himself a sign of aloof disinterest, a wariness of being associated with a story that could end badly, or simply an acknowledgment of political reality?
“The vertical of power is a kind of theatrical façade,” Pavlovsky told me. “It is good at producing the appearance of authority, but it doesn’t actually have managerial abilities or the ability to quickly mobilize resources.” The myth of the vertical has served Putin well over the years, as he has been seen by various constituencies—from warring security and intelligence chiefs to rival businesspeople and oligarchs—as the singular arbiter capable of keeping the over-all system buoyant and profitable. But that doesn’t help you in a crisis that is driven by scientific cause and effect, rather than by political or emotional factors.
The point is not that Russia’s response to the pandemic has been horrible; even with its high number of cases and dubious official death count, the country’s health-care system has avoided total collapse and a death toll so high that it would be impossible to hide. Instead, regional officials and medical workers have responded to the spread of the virus largely on their own. It turns out that the vertical is better at fostering a kind of psychic or virtual power than wielding real power in a time of genuine crisis.
In an article for Republic, a news and politics Web site, Ivan Davydov, a political columnist in Moscow, described how the “champions of geopolitical e-sports suddenly felt completely useless in the real world—confused and scared.” Davydov added, “Over the course of this virtual game, its players completely lost the skill of talking with the real Russia. Suddenly, when the people need a state, it turns out the state was not built for this purpose.”
This is partly the inevitable result of the Putin system’s longevity; after twenty years in power, Putin thinks of himself less as a politician and more as a “messianic” or “historic” hero, as Tatiana Stanovaya, the head of the analysis firm R.Politik, put it. This period crystallized in 2014, when Russia annexed Crimea and fuelled a would-be separatist insurgency in Ukraine. Sanctions, opprobrium, and attempts at isolation followed—but Russia was again an undeniable force on the world stage.
“If, in earlier times, Putin stood before the people and in some way was responsible to them, he now sees himself as standing before history,” Stanovaya told me. He is consumed with the idea of restoring Russia’s great-power status, and so the tasks that interest him are commensurate with this sweeping mission: navigating an oil-price war with Saudi Arabia and the United States; dispatching Russian forces and paramilitaries around the Middle East to take advantage of the vacuum left by the U.S.; and courting foreign leaders, whether Donald Trump or China’s Xi Jinping. Stanovaya said that Putin sees “social problems,” of which COVID-19 is one, as “too small compared to his great mission. They’re simply not interesting to him; they don’t rise to his level.” (Putin, though, relishes high-profile events like the military parade commemorating victory over Nazi Germany in the Second World War, normally held on May 9th. In April, Putin delayed it indefinitely, citing the pandemic; on Tuesday, he announced that it would go ahead after all, on June 24th.)


newyorker--2020-05-26--Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Spitting on Other People

Late last week , a video compilation started making the rounds , showing customers in public places of business—Costco , Walmart , a Red Lobster—refusing to wear masks or to observe social distancing , and , when called out on their negligence , demonstratively coughing and even spitting on the mostly low-wage employees who were trying to enforce basic safety guidelines .
These are the images of the current culture war , fought and framed , like other American culture wars , around conflicting ideas of freedom .
“ I woke up in a free country , ” a disgruntled @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is being sacrificed by wearing a mask ?
” a Twitter user asks .
“ The freedom to not wear a fucking mask , ” another responds .
Political theorists have long made a distinction between negative freedom and positive freedom , or , as the social psychologist Erich Fromm put it , “ freedom from ” and “ freedom to.
” Negative freedom is the freedom from constraint , the sort of freedom that teen-agers demand when they want you to stop telling them what to do .
This is also the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when we talk about freedom : individual liberty .
Positive freedom is the freedom not from others but with others ; one might call it social and political freedom .
In a classic lecture , titled “ Two Concepts of Liberty , ” Isaiah Berlin , the twentieth-century British thinker , said that the “ positive ” sense of liberty comes to light if we try to answer the question not “ What am I free to do or be ?
” but “ By whom am I ruled ?
” or “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and what I am not , to be or do ?
” The connection between democracy and individual liberty is a good deal more tenuous than it seemed to many advocates of both .
The desire to be governed by myself , or , at any rate , to participate in the process by which my life is to be controlled , may be as deep a wish as that of a free area for action , and perhaps historically older .
But it is not a desire for the same thing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is the freedom to be intentional : “ I wish to be the instrument of my own , not of other men ’ s acts of will .
I wish to be a subject , not an object ; to be moved by reasons , by conscious purposes , which are my own , not by causes which affect me , as it were , from outside .
I wish , above all , to be conscious of myself as a thinking , willing , active being , bearing responsibility for my choices @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to my own ideas and purposes .
I feel free to the degree that I believe this to be true , and enslaved to the degree that I am made to realize that it is not.
” Berlin was not arguing that one concept of freedom is better than the other .
A student of Russia , he was keenly aware that tyrannies can be built on ideologies of a greater good , and that extreme oppression can be propped up with rhetoric of freedom .
But seeing freedom as merely the absence @ @ @ @ @ @ @ insufficient .
His argument was that the two concepts of freedom have to coexist , even if sometimes they collide .
Wearing a mask can be seen as an act of positive freedom : the choice of a conscious member of society .
It is difficult to consider enforced mask-wearing as a form of unfreedom , for even the individual-liberty fundamentalism of John Stuart Mill drew a line at actions that can harm others—one person ’ s freedom can end where another ’ s safety begins .
To claim that being compelled to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one ’ s liberty is to reject either the premise that wearing one can protect others or the humanity of those who are being endangered .
Anti-lockdown protesters and mask resisters routinely misrepresent or misinterpret the risks of coronavirus transmission .
When they cough and spit on others , they dehumanize those who might dare to tell them what to do .
The long-term effects of living our social lives at a distance , with half of our faces covered , are profound , and the threat we as a society are facing—the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and will die , and the economic devastation wreaked alongside the deaths—is hard to overstate .
Because the stakes are so high , mask-wearing and social distancing have to be embraced as a common project , an undertaking in positive freedom , and not merely a curtailment of individual liberty .
But , for that to happen , we need to be able to speak about common cause—a way of speaking that seems nearly extinct in American politics .
In a speech last Friday , the Republican governor of North Dakota , Doug @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he tried to convince the residents of his state that wearing a mask was not an irrational act or a sign of belonging to the Democratic Party .
“ If somebody wants to wear a mask , there should be no mask-shaming , ” he pleaded .
“ The first thing that somebody ought to assume is that they ’ re doing it because they ’ ve got people in their life that they love and that they ’ re trying to take care of.
” New York ’ s governor , Andrew @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in which he frames mask-wearing as an act of respect for others , as a statement and a sacrifice but not an empowering act .
“ This mask says , I respect the nurses and the doctors who killed themselves through this virus to save other people , ” Cuomo ’ s message begins .
New York State ran a contest for thirty-second video ads to promote the use of masks .
Of the five finalists , only one frames mask-wearing as collective rather than individual action .
For a sense of common @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be a sense of us : a community that is facing a threat and mounting a response .
But we have vastly different experiences of the pandemic and vastly different expectations of the government .
The anti-mask people in the viral videos are all white , and , it appears , all or most of them live in suburbs or exurbs .
They seem to see mask-wearing as a kind of tyrannical virtue-signalling ; they expect to be served and assume they are safe , both from the virus and from facing any @ @ @ @ @ @ @ harming others .
In my neighborhood , in Harlem , which is one of the hardest-hit areas of New York City , common cause is a scarce commodity for starkly different reasons .
Here the city ’ s guidelines are enforced by police officers who started by aggressively arresting people for failing to social-distance , and who now pull up to gaggles of mostly maskless teen-agers to try to get them to disperse .
The police cruiser ’ s flashing-blue display of a social-distancing message taps into a long-familiar experience of over-policing that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ neighborhood residents safe .
The real threat to freedom in the pandemic is not the threat to individual liberty ; it is the threat to positive freedom , the freedom to be a community , a society , a polis .
The screaming arguments about masks and lockdowns serve as a distraction from that much more difficult question , and from a sacrifice that is made much too lightly , as when Bill de Blasio , the Mayor of New York , said earlier this month that demonstrations in the city would be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ protesters are observing social-distancing guidelines .
Twice in the weeks leading up to those remarks , police had stopped protests by L.G.B.T.Q .
activists against Samaritan ’ s Purse , an explicitly anti-gay organization that ran a field hospital in Central Park in April .

Late last week, a video compilation started making the rounds, showing customers in public places of business—Costco, Walmart, a Red Lobster—refusing to wear masks or to observe social distancing, and, when called out on their negligence, demonstratively coughing and even spitting on the mostly low-wage employees who were trying to enforce basic safety guidelines. These are the images of the current culture war, fought and framed, like other American culture wars, around conflicting ideas of freedom. “I woke up in a free country,” a disgruntled Costco customer says. “What freedom is being sacrificed by wearing a mask?” a Twitter user asks. “The freedom to not wear a fucking mask,” another responds.
Political theorists have long made a distinction between negative freedom and positive freedom, or, as the social psychologist Erich Fromm put it, “freedom from” and “freedom to.” Negative freedom is the freedom from constraint, the sort of freedom that teen-agers demand when they want you to stop telling them what to do. This is also the sort of freedom Americans most often mean when we talk about freedom: individual liberty.
Positive freedom is the freedom not from others but with others; one might call it social and political freedom. In a classic lecture, titled “Two Concepts of Liberty,” Isaiah Berlin, the twentieth-century British thinker, said that the “positive” sense of liberty comes to light if we try to answer the question not “What am I free to do or be?” but “By whom am I ruled?” or “Who is to say what I am, and what I am not, to be or do?” The connection between democracy and individual liberty is a good deal more tenuous than it seemed to many advocates of both. The desire to be governed by myself, or, at any rate, to participate in the process by which my life is to be controlled, may be as deep a wish as that of a free area for action, and perhaps historically older. But it is not a desire for the same thing.
Positive freedom, Berlin said, is the freedom to be intentional: “I wish to be the instrument of my own, not of other men’s acts of will. I wish to be a subject, not an object; to be moved by reasons, by conscious purposes, which are my own, not by causes which affect me, as it were, from outside. I wish, above all, to be conscious of myself as a thinking, willing, active being, bearing responsibility for my choices and able to explain them by references to my own ideas and purposes. I feel free to the degree that I believe this to be true, and enslaved to the degree that I am made to realize that it is not.”
Berlin was not arguing that one concept of freedom is better than the other. A student of Russia, he was keenly aware that tyrannies can be built on ideologies of a greater good, and that extreme oppression can be propped up with rhetoric of freedom. But seeing freedom as merely the absence of coercion, he thought, was insufficient. His argument was that the two concepts of freedom have to coexist, even if sometimes they collide.
Wearing a mask can be seen as an act of positive freedom: the choice of a conscious member of society. It is difficult to consider enforced mask-wearing as a form of unfreedom, for even the individual-liberty fundamentalism of John Stuart Mill drew a line at actions that can harm others—one person’s freedom can end where another’s safety begins. To claim that being compelled to wear a mask is a violation of one’s liberty is to reject either the premise that wearing one can protect others or the humanity of those who are being endangered. Anti-lockdown protesters and mask resisters routinely misrepresent or misinterpret the risks of coronavirus transmission. When they cough and spit on others, they dehumanize those who might dare to tell them what to do.
The long-term effects of living our social lives at a distance, with half of our faces covered, are profound, and the threat we as a society are facing—the number of people who have died, and will die, and the economic devastation wreaked alongside the deaths—is hard to overstate. Because the stakes are so high, mask-wearing and social distancing have to be embraced as a common project, an undertaking in positive freedom, and not merely a curtailment of individual liberty. But, for that to happen, we need to be able to speak about common cause—a way of speaking that seems nearly extinct in American politics. In a speech last Friday, the Republican governor of North Dakota, Doug Burgum, nearly came to tears as he tried to convince the residents of his state that wearing a mask was not an irrational act or a sign of belonging to the Democratic Party. “If somebody wants to wear a mask, there should be no mask-shaming,” he pleaded. “The first thing that somebody ought to assume is that they’re doing it because they’ve got people in their life that they love and that they’re trying to take care of.” New York’s governor, Andrew Cuomo, has released a P.S.A. in which he frames mask-wearing as an act of respect for others, as a statement and a sacrifice but not an empowering act. “This mask says, I respect the nurses and the doctors who killed themselves through this virus to save other people,” Cuomo’s message begins. New York State ran a contest for thirty-second video ads to promote the use of masks. Of the five finalists, only one frames mask-wearing as collective rather than individual action.
For a sense of common cause to appear, there has to be a sense of us: a community that is facing a threat and mounting a response. But we have vastly different experiences of the pandemic and vastly different expectations of the government. The anti-mask people in the viral videos are all white, and, it appears, all or most of them live in suburbs or exurbs. They seem to see mask-wearing as a kind of tyrannical virtue-signalling; they expect to be served and assume they are safe, both from the virus and from facing any consequences for flouting the rules or physically harming others. In my neighborhood, in Harlem, which is one of the hardest-hit areas of New York City, common cause is a scarce commodity for starkly different reasons. Here the city’s guidelines are enforced by police officers who started by aggressively arresting people for failing to social-distance, and who now pull up to gaggles of mostly maskless teen-agers to try to get them to disperse. The police cruiser’s flashing-blue display of a social-distancing message taps into a long-familiar experience of over-policing that has little to do with keeping the neighborhood residents safe.
The real threat to freedom in the pandemic is not the threat to individual liberty; it is the threat to positive freedom, the freedom to be a community, a society, a polis. The screaming arguments about masks and lockdowns serve as a distraction from that much more difficult question, and from a sacrifice that is made much too lightly, as when Bill de Blasio, the Mayor of New York, said earlier this month that demonstrations in the city would be broken up by the police even if protesters are observing social-distancing guidelines. Twice in the weeks leading up to those remarks, police had stopped protests by L.G.B.T.Q. activists against Samaritan’s Purse, an explicitly anti-gay organization that ran a field hospital in Central Park in April.


newyorker--2020-05-26--Jonathan Van Ness Thinks You Should Let Your Quarantine Hair Grow

Jonathan Van Ness—podcaster , author , and “ grooming expert ” on the Netflix series “ Queer Eye ” —misses other people ’ s hair .
To pass the time in quarantine , he told me recently , he has been cutting his own Jesus-like locks and walking friends through at-home haircuts via Zoom .
He has also been recording episodes of his podcast , “ Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness , ” in which he interviews guests about a remarkably wide variety of topics , from fashion to politics to history .
( Recent episodes include “ How @ @ @ @ @ @ @ !
ng Fierce ?
, ” with the designer Christian Siriano , and “ When Did We Start To Demonize Poverty ?
, ” with the economic journalist Mary O ’ Hara . )
Van Ness grew up in Quincy , Illinois , where his family owns a local media company .
He has often spoken about the bullying he suffered as a “ flamboyant kid ” in a small town .
He went to college at the University of Arizona on a partial cheerleading scholarship , before dropping out in his first @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Who am I fooling ?
, ” he said in one interview about those years .
“ I ’ m not a college student , I ’ m a hairdresser.
” He studied at the Aveda Institute , in Minneapolis , before moving to Phoenix and later to Los Angeles to cut hair full-time .
( He is now based in New York . )
It was while standing behind a barber ’ s chair that Van Ness discovered that he could wield his tongue as sharply as his shears ; one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ site Funny Or Die , and , in 2013 , she encouraged him to make a Web series for the site .
The result , “ Gay of Thrones , ” in which Van Ness would colorfully recap “ Game of Thrones ” episodes while snipping hair , became a viral sensation .
Van Ness landed a spot on the “ Queer Eye ” reboot and , following the show ’ s success in 2018 , became a breakout star .
With his handlebar mustache , quick witticisms , and high-heeled boots , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ maintenance and self care .
Last fall , Van Ness released a memoir , “ Over the Top , ” in which he disclosed his struggles with addiction and his H.I.V.-positive status .
He spoke to me on Zoom from Austin , Texas , about L.G.B.T.Q .
rights , his pet cats , and grooming tips for people stuck inside ( hint : don ’ t buzz your head ) .
Hi .
What are you doing in Texas ?
Well , we were shooting “ Queer Eye ” in Austin when everything @ @ @ @ @ @ @ know if you ’ ve ever travelled with four cats in an airport ?
No , definitely not .
Yeah , it is not the most amazing experience .
So I just stayed .
O.K.
, wait , I need all the cats ’ names .
This is Hairy Larry , and he is my oldest .
Um , I have Matilda .
She ’ s right here taking a nap .
And then I have Lady G and Liza Meownelli , who ’ s right here .
I have to say she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ She has really bad cat I.B.S.
, because she survived panleuk when she was a kitten , which is like parvo in dogs .
But now if you look at her wrong , she has diarrhea .
I ’ m sorry I ’ m talking about this .
Why am I talking about this ?
I want to talk about grooming during quarantine .
There was an article today in the Times from a makeup influencer who asked , Does anyone care what I look like ?
Nobody can see me .
What @ @ @ @ @ @ @ maintenance while so many people are inside ?
One of my best friends always told me , “ Don ’ t should me.
” Whenever you ’ re “ should ” -ing someone , it ’ s kind of a way of shaming them .
This is an unprecedented situation that we are all going through , and I think everyone is going to handle it in different ways .
If it makes you feel more at peace to do a full face of glam on a daily basis , even if you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it .
Never had the time to get into it before and now you do have time and you have the resources to do that ?
Go for it .
But if you don ’ t want to and it doesn ’ t make you feel good , or you ’ ve been someone who ’ s doing that a lot and you want to take a break , that ’ s O.K .
What are you doing personally ?
At the beginning I think I was a little bit like , Oh @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have to blow-dry my hair .
I had just been filming .
I had just been on tour .
And I ’ d also just been on the back of two years of nonstop go , go , go .
And then , in the last couple of weeks , I ’ m like , I miss doing hair .
Like , I ’ m going to do finger waves on my hair .
I ’ m gon na do my cats ’ hair .
I ’ ve been teaching my friends how @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Have you cut your own hair ?
Yeah , I did like a little bit of a fringe trim on myself with [ the “ Schitt ’ s Creek ” star ] Emily Hampshire on her show the other day .
[ Laughs . ]
I trimmed the front a little bit .
It was like a little face frame .
I cut my own bangs .
I did the thing where you cut up and not across .
Perfect .
That ’ s a point cut versus a blunt cut .
It @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s more forgiving .
That ’ s great .
The thing where you pull them out , twist them , and cut—is that a good way to do it ?
I was told once by somebody you should twist them and then cut them .
Well , what always messes up my clients the worst , and what always gave me such a headache , is where your fringe actually comes from .
People cut hair here on the sides or like over here on their temple .
A lot of times @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when you pull your hair back and you have like a little bit of something here , you know that thing ?
Right , so when you have long hair like us and then you can pull it back a little bit and all of a sudden there ’ s a tuft right here ?
It ’ s like , no !
If you ’ re going to do it , you just want to make sure that it ’ s right on the top part .

Jonathan Van Ness—podcaster, author, and “grooming expert” on the Netflix series “Queer Eye”—misses other people’s hair. To pass the time in quarantine, he told me recently, he has been cutting his own Jesus-like locks and walking friends through at-home haircuts via Zoom. He has also been recording episodes of his podcast, “Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness,” in which he interviews guests about a remarkably wide variety of topics, from fashion to politics to history. (Recent episodes include “How Did You Become So F*#%!ng Fierce?,” with the designer Christian Siriano, and “When Did We Start To Demonize Poverty?,” with the economic journalist Mary O’Hara.)
Van Ness grew up in Quincy, Illinois, where his family owns a local media company. He has often spoken about the bullying he suffered as a “flamboyant kid” in a small town. He went to college at the University of Arizona on a partial cheerleading scholarship, before dropping out in his first year to go to cosmetology school. “Who am I fooling?,” he said in one interview about those years. “I’m not a college student, I’m a hairdresser.” He studied at the Aveda Institute, in Minneapolis, before moving to Phoenix and later to Los Angeles to cut hair full-time. (He is now based in New York.) It was while standing behind a barber’s chair that Van Ness discovered that he could wield his tongue as sharply as his shears; one of his clients worked for the Web site Funny Or Die, and, in 2013, she encouraged him to make a Web series for the site. The result, “Gay of Thrones,” in which Van Ness would colorfully recap “Game of Thrones” episodes while snipping hair, became a viral sensation. Van Ness landed a spot on the “Queer Eye” reboot and, following the show’s success in 2018, became a breakout star. With his handlebar mustache, quick witticisms, and high-heeled boots, he frolics through every episode advocating stubble maintenance and self care. Last fall, Van Ness released a memoir, “Over the Top,” in which he disclosed his struggles with addiction and his H.I.V.-positive status. He spoke to me on Zoom from Austin, Texas, about L.G.B.T.Q. rights, his pet cats, and grooming tips for people stuck inside (hint: don’t buzz your head).
Hi. What are you doing in Texas?
Well, we were shooting “Queer Eye” in Austin when everything started. And then—I don’t know if you’ve ever travelled with four cats in an airport?
No, definitely not.
Yeah, it is not the most amazing experience. So I just stayed.
O.K., wait, I need all the cats’ names.
This is Hairy Larry, and he is my oldest. Um, I have Matilda. She’s right here taking a nap. And then I have Lady G and Liza Meownelli, who’s right here. I have to say she has not been taking quarantine well. She has really bad cat I.B.S., because she survived panleuk when she was a kitten, which is like parvo in dogs. But now if you look at her wrong, she has diarrhea.
I’m sorry I’m talking about this. Why am I talking about this?
I want to talk about grooming during quarantine. There was an article today in the Times from a makeup influencer who asked, Does anyone care what I look like? Nobody can see me. What is your take on the idea of maintenance while so many people are inside?
One of my best friends always told me, “Don’t should me.” Whenever you’re “should”-ing someone, it’s kind of a way of shaming them. This is an unprecedented situation that we are all going through, and I think everyone is going to handle it in different ways. If it makes you feel more at peace to do a full face of glam on a daily basis, even if you’re not going somewhere, do it. Never had the time to get into it before and now you do have time and you have the resources to do that? Go for it. But if you don’t want to and it doesn’t make you feel good, or you’ve been someone who’s doing that a lot and you want to take a break, that’s O.K.
What are you doing personally?
At the beginning I think I was a little bit like, Oh my gosh, I don’t have to blow-dry my hair. I had just been filming. I had just been on tour. And I’d also just been on the back of two years of nonstop go, go, go. And then, in the last couple of weeks, I’m like, I miss doing hair. Like, I’m going to do finger waves on my hair. I’m gonna do my cats’ hair. I’ve been teaching my friends how to do their hair on Zoom.
Have you cut your own hair?
Yeah, I did like a little bit of a fringe trim on myself with [the “Schitt’s Creek” star] Emily Hampshire on her show the other day. [Laughs.] I trimmed the front a little bit. It was like a little face frame.
I cut my own bangs. I did the thing where you cut up and not across.
Perfect. That’s a point cut versus a blunt cut. It’s more soft, so it’s more forgiving. That’s great.
The thing where you pull them out, twist them, and cut—is that a good way to do it? I was told once by somebody you should twist them and then cut them.
Well, what always messes up my clients the worst, and what always gave me such a headache, is where your fringe actually comes from. People cut hair here on the sides or like over here on their temple. A lot of times my clients would want that thing where when you pull your hair back and you have like a little bit of something here, you know that thing?
Yeah, like almost a shag type thing?
Right, so when you have long hair like us and then you can pull it back a little bit and all of a sudden there’s a tuft right here? It’s like, no! If you’re going to do it, you just want to make sure that it’s right on the top part.


newyorker--2020-05-26--Why Remote Work Is So Hard—and How It Can Be Fixed

In the nineteen-sixties , Jack Nilles , a physicist turned engineer , built long-range communications systems at the U.S. Air Force ’ s Aerial Reconnaissance Laboratory , near Dayton , Ohio .
Later , at NASA , in Houston , he helped design space probes that could send messages back to Earth .
In the early nineteen-seventies , as the director for interdisciplinary research at the University of Southern California , he became fascinated by a more terrestrial problem : traffic congestion .
Suburban sprawl and cheap gas were combining to create traffic jams ; more and more people were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In October , 1973 , the OPEC oil embargo began , and gas prices quadrupled .
America ’ s car-based work culture seemed suddenly unsustainable .
That year , Nilles published a book , “ The Telecommunications-Transportation Tradeoff , ” in which he and his co-authors argued that the congestion problem was actually a communications problem .
The personal computer hadn ’ t yet been invented , and there was no easy way to relocate work into the home .
But Nilles imagined a system that could ease the traffic crisis : if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ outskirts , then employees could commute to many different , closer locations , perhaps on foot or by bicycle .
A system of human messengers and mainframe computers could keep these distributed operations synchronized , replicating the communication that goes on within a single , shared office building .
Nilles coined the terms “ tele-commuting ” and “ telework ” to describe this hypothetical arrangement .
The satellite-office idea didn ’ t catch on , but it didn ’ t matter : over the next decade , advances in computer and network technology @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mother , a COBOL programmer for the Houston Chronicle , became one of the first true remote workers : in a bid to keep her from leaving—she was very good , and had a long commute—the paper set her up with an early-model , monochrome-screen PC , from which she “ dialled in ” to the paper ’ s I.B.M .
mainframe using a primitive modem , sending screens of code back and forth .
“ It was very slow , ” she told me recently .
“ You would watch the lines @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one.
” The technology wasn ’ t fast enough for widespread use—hours could pass while the computers synchronized—but the basic template for remote work had been set .
In the following decades , technical advances arrived with increasing frequency .
In the nineteen-nineties , during the so-called I.T .
revolution , office workers started using networked PCs and teams embraced e-mail and file-sharing .
People began spending less time in meetings and on the phone and more time interacting with their computers .
As computer prices dropped , many bought comparable machines for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the same tools they used at work .
In 1994 , A.T. & T. held its first “ Employee Telecommuting Day ” ; in 1996 , the federal government launched a program to increase remote-work options for its employees .
In the early two-thousands , broadband Internet made home connections substantially faster , and , in 2003 , a pair of European programmers released Skype , which took advantage of this broadband explosion to enable cheap audio communication .
In 2004 , they added conference-call capabilities , and , in 2006 , video @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their program had been downloaded half a billion times .
Office work seemed on the brink of a profound shift .
Instead of commuting into crowded cities , white-collar workers would soon relocate to more affordable , bucolic areas ; they ’ d enjoy flexible schedules , picking up their kids from school and sitting down for family dinners after productive days at home .
Some people envisioned more radical departures .
In his book “ The 4-Hour Workweek , ” from 2007 , Timothy Ferriss , a twenty-nine-year-old entrepreneur , suggested that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ employers and then move to parts of the world where the cost of living was low .
( Argentina was experiencing a currency crisis , and so could be a good spot for such “ geo-arbitrage , ” Ferriss wrote . )
Unsupervised by bosses , these ultra-remote workers could do their jobs in highly efficient bursts , enjoying lavish lives of leisure the rest of the time .
“ The 4-Hour Workweek ” became a huge best-seller .
But just when the remote-work revolution looked inevitable , it lost momentum .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
of Yahoo , Marissa Mayer , put a stop to all remote work at the company by means of an all-hands memo from H.R .
“ Speed and quality are often sacrificed when we work from home , ” the memo read .
“ We need to be one Yahoo !
, and that starts with physically being together.
” I.B.M.
, Hewlett-Packard , Best Buy , and other companies curtailed their telework programs ; Silicon Valley companies became known for the ludic enticements—free meals , coffee bars , climbing gyms—that they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
A month after the Yahoo memo landed , an article in Business Insider lauded Google ’ s Corporate Concierge team , which helped its engineers accomplish mundane personal tasks , such as planning dinner parties or finding Halloween costumes .
“ Employees who work for the search giant don ’ t have to worry about much besides their work , ” it concluded .
Today , remote work is the exception rather than the norm .
“ Flexible work ” arrangements tend to be seen as a perk ; a 2018 survey @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of American employees worked from home more than half of the time .
And yet the technological infrastructure designed for telecommuting hasn ’ t gone away .
It ’ s what enables employees to answer e-mails on the subway or draft pre-dawn memos in their kitchens .
Jack Nilles dreamed of remote work replacing office work , but the plan backfired : using advanced telecommunications technologies , we now work from home while also commuting .
We work everywhere .
As spring gives way to summer , and we enter the uncertain second @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s unclear when , or whether , knowledge workers will return to their offices .
Citigroup recently told its employees to expect a slow transition out of lockdown , with many employees staying out of the office until next year .
Jack Dorsey , the C.E.O .
of Twitter , went even further , announcing in an e-mail that those whose jobs didn ’ t require a physical presence would be allowed to work from home indefinitely .
In a press statement , Twitter ’ s head of H.R .
said that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the same , ” adding , “ I do think we won ’ t go back.
” Not every company will want to embrace remote work so fully , but , to protect worker health and reduce corporate liability , many will have no choice but to allow significantly more telework for months or perhaps years to come .
Offices in Asia may provide us with a glimpse of the American future : restrictions have eased in a number of Asian cities , but at Microsoft Asia ’ s offices , in China @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s six thousand employees have returned to in-person work .
At Nanjing University , many administrative staff members have adopted interlocking schedules in which they work only a few in-person days each week , minimizing the number of people on campus at any given time ; coffee shops in Hong Kong , which have recently reopened , are reportedly filled with remote workers looking to get out of the house .
It ’ s possible , as the pandemic unfolds , that offices which have returned will have to go remote again @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an extended period during which even reopened offices will remain only partially occupied , with most meetings including at least a few participants joining from home .


newyorker--2020-05-25--Alan Weisman’s Thought Experiment Becomes a Reality

Hunkering down in New York City—with its once crowded streets , bridges , and offices now relatively empty—a canyon dweller at home could do worse than to read Alan Weisman ’ s “ The World Without Us.
” The book , a best-seller when it was published , in 2007 , sought to understand what Earth would look like if everyone vanished .
“ Say a Homo sapiens-specific virus—natural or diabolically nano-engineered—picks us off but leaves everything else intact , ” he wrote .
What then ?
Weisman , who is seventy-three years old , has been waiting out the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ western Massachusetts .
( The local farmers ’ stands now operate unmanned , on the honor code . )
When the outbreak began , he had been working on a book about hope amid ecological collapse , but his research plans—involving travel to Europe , Asia , and Africa—were put on hold .
Instead , he has been fielding questions from people who find “ The World Without Us ” oddly apt , and going on hikes .
The other day , the weather was crisp , and the sky blue , except @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the Rivulet Trail , which runs through one of New England ’ s few remaining stands of old-growth trees .
He had put on jeans , a hoodie , and hiking boots—all doused in permethrin to guard against ticks , which have appeared in the area as the climate has warmed .
He added a cap over his graying hair , a bandanna around his neck .
One of the most dramatic chapters in “ The World Without Us ” describes how quickly nature would reclaim New York City if humans were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from below .
Every day , the M.T.A .
pumps millions of gallons of water out of the subway system ; if the pumps stopped , within half an hour tunnels would begin to flood .
Soil under pavement would leach away .
Streets would buckle .
Within two decades , Lexington Avenue would likely turn into a river .
Grand Central might stand for centuries , but skyscrapers would soon topple .
Airborne seeds , deposited in bird droppings , would spread vegetation that could tear apart riveted steel high above .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ trees , would rip through pavement .
“ The unstated but absolutely resonant message throughout that book is how important maintenance personnel are to make sure that these things don ’ t fall victim to entropy , ” Weisman said .
He had veered onto a path called Pine Loop .
Since the pandemic began , people have been citing “ The World Without Us ” online—posting references to it alongside images of flowers pushing through cobblestone , deer in Grand Rapids , a coyote in Chicago .
Friends e-mailed Weisman clips of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and schools of fish visible in the canals of Venice .
A buddy in Colorado had heard reports of elk , moose , and mountain lions in Boulder and Denver ; another sent Weisman ’ s wife a photo of wild turkeys in a New Jersey housing project , noting , “ Your husband will understand.
” Weisman was particularly touched by people who reported that they were hearing more birds .
Someone in New Orleans had shared a recording .
“ It was a barred owl , ” he said.
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ calling , but now you don ’ t have any cars making all that noise.
” ( Across the globe , the drop in traffic is seismically measurable : we are literally moving Earth less . )
He stopped in a clearing .
A pine had fallen , and was decaying amid a bed of sugar-maple and birch leaves .
“ I don ’ t think nature is avenging itself , ” he said .
“ We are having an impact in ways that we can ’ t predict , because there are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ but until something happens we just keep forging ahead in a bubble of denial.
” The coronavirus , like deer ticks ( now found as far north as the Arctic ) , may prove to be one of many new invisible threats .
He glanced up .
“ It looks just like the blue sky when I was a kid , and yet there is thirty per cent more carbon dioxide above my head , ” he said .
Two other hikers appeared .
Their faces were uncovered .
Weisman raised his bandanna @ @ @ @ @ @ @ us to do that , ” he said .
The passing hikers silently half waved .
On the trail , there was a lookout with a plaque featuring a poem by William Cullen Bryant— “ The Yellow Violet ” —about valuing small natural wonders over “ the ways of pride.
” Stopping near the plaque , Weisman reflected on his new book project , and on how hard it is to sustain hope when environmental problems cast such a terrifying shadow over the future .
“ We ’ re going to have to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what happens next , ” he said .
Below him , in a ravine , a stream snaked among old cherry and white pine .
Taking in the glimmer of Earth ’ s untouched past , he said , “ Utterly gorgeous.
” ♦ • Twenty-four hours at the epicenter of the pandemic : nearly fifty New Yorker writers and photographers fanned out to document life in New York City on April 15th .
• Seattle leaders let scientists take the lead in responding to the coronavirus .
New York leaders did not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ disease and rescue the economy ?
• What the coronavirus has revealed about American medicine .
• Can we trace the spread of COVID-19 and protect privacy at the same time ?
• The coronavirus is likely to spread for more than a year before a vaccine is widely available .
• How to practice social distancing , from responding to a sick housemate to the pros and cons of ordering food .
• The long crusade of Dr. Anthony Fauci , the infectious-disease expert pinned between Donald Trump and the American people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , cook , and listen to under quarantine .

Hunkering down in New York City—with its once crowded streets, bridges, and offices now relatively empty—a canyon dweller at home could do worse than to read Alan Weisman’s “The World Without Us.” The book, a best-seller when it was published, in 2007, sought to understand what Earth would look like if everyone vanished. “Say a Homo sapiens-specific virus—natural or diabolically nano-engineered—picks us off but leaves everything else intact,” he wrote. What then?
Weisman, who is seventy-three years old, has been waiting out the pandemic at his home, in rural western Massachusetts. (The local farmers’ stands now operate unmanned, on the honor code.) When the outbreak began, he had been working on a book about hope amid ecological collapse, but his research plans—involving travel to Europe, Asia, and Africa—were put on hold. Instead, he has been fielding questions from people who find “The World Without Us” oddly apt, and going on hikes.
The other day, the weather was crisp, and the sky blue, except for some wispy clouds. Weisman headed for the Rivulet Trail, which runs through one of New England’s few remaining stands of old-growth trees. He had put on jeans, a hoodie, and hiking boots—all doused in permethrin to guard against ticks, which have appeared in the area as the climate has warmed. He added a cap over his graying hair, a bandanna around his neck.
One of the most dramatic chapters in “The World Without Us” describes how quickly nature would reclaim New York City if humans were removed. The decay would likely begin from below. Every day, the M.T.A. pumps millions of gallons of water out of the subway system; if the pumps stopped, within half an hour tunnels would begin to flood. Soil under pavement would leach away. Streets would buckle. Within two decades, Lexington Avenue would likely turn into a river. Grand Central might stand for centuries, but skyscrapers would soon topple. Airborne seeds, deposited in bird droppings, would spread vegetation that could tear apart riveted steel high above. Down below, weeds, and then trees, would rip through pavement. “The unstated but absolutely resonant message throughout that book is how important maintenance personnel are to make sure that these things don’t fall victim to entropy,” Weisman said. He had veered onto a path called Pine Loop.
Since the pandemic began, people have been citing “The World Without Us” online—posting references to it alongside images of flowers pushing through cobblestone, deer in Grand Rapids, a coyote in Chicago. Friends e-mailed Weisman clips of goats taking over a town in Wales, and schools of fish visible in the canals of Venice. A buddy in Colorado had heard reports of elk, moose, and mountain lions in Boulder and Denver; another sent Weisman’s wife a photo of wild turkeys in a New Jersey housing project, noting, “Your husband will understand.”
“The great thing about napping is you don’t need much in an initial outlay to get started.” Cartoon by Barbara Smaller Copy link to cartoon Copy link to cartoon Shop Shop
Weisman was particularly touched by people who reported that they were hearing more birds. Someone in New Orleans had shared a recording. “It was a barred owl,” he said.“They have always been there, always calling, but now you don’t have any cars making all that noise.” (Across the globe, the drop in traffic is seismically measurable: we are literally moving Earth less.)
He stopped in a clearing. A pine had fallen, and was decaying amid a bed of sugar-maple and birch leaves. “I don’t think nature is avenging itself,” he said. “We are having an impact in ways that we can’t predict, because there are so many variables in the ecosystem, but until something happens we just keep forging ahead in a bubble of denial.” The coronavirus, like deer ticks (now found as far north as the Arctic), may prove to be one of many new invisible threats. He glanced up. “It looks just like the blue sky when I was a kid, and yet there is thirty per cent more carbon dioxide above my head,” he said.
Two other hikers appeared. Their faces were uncovered. Weisman raised his bandanna. “The governor of Massachusetts wants us to do that,” he said. The passing hikers silently half waved.
On the trail, there was a lookout with a plaque featuring a poem by William Cullen Bryant—“The Yellow Violet”—about valuing small natural wonders over “the ways of pride.” Stopping near the plaque, Weisman reflected on his new book project, and on how hard it is to sustain hope when environmental problems cast such a terrifying shadow over the future. “We’re going to have to figure out how to make it through what happens next,” he said. Below him, in a ravine, a stream snaked among old cherry and white pine. Taking in the glimmer of Earth’s untouched past, he said, “Utterly gorgeous.” ♦
A Guide to the Coronavirus


newyorker--2020-05-25--How to Maintain Social Distance as the U.S. Reopens

Two months ago , I interviewed Asaf Bitton , a primary-care physician and public-health researcher who directs the Ariadne Labs at Brigham and Women ’ s Hospital and Harvard ’ s School of Public Health , about the guidelines he had compiled on how to best practice social distancing .
These guidelines were released on March 13th , just as states were issuing shelter-in-place orders and Americans were wondering how they should perform basic activities , like daily walks and grocery runs .
Now , with businesses beginning to open up , and activity set to increase , I spoke @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wanted to know what scientists had learned over the past few months about best practices for social distancing , what activities people should feel more comfortable doing , and where people should exercise more caution .
In our conversation , which has been edited for length and clarity , we discussed why public-health officials have changed the way they think about masks , the risks of socializing indoors , and the problem of public bathrooms .
What have we learned about the best social-distancing practices in the last ten weeks ?
I think @ @ @ @ @ @ @ number of studies that social distancing , when practiced en masse and consistently , actually can work to drive down the rate of growth of cases .
This has gone from theoretical economic-modelling literature to a lot better epidemiological data .
The practices that work are really the practices that reduce the ability of respiratory droplets to easily travel to other people .
So that means that we ’ ve learned that it ’ s not just the distance quotient or equation .
In fact , we ’ ve learned that sneezes and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feet , but , in fact , that masks are really effective .
Ventilation is really important .
And the time interval that separates people from touching the same objects is important .
So making sure that we ’ re not just washing hands but also not touching the same objects , especially indoor objects , is the hallmark of effective distancing strategies .
I ’ ve heard people say , well , six feet is not necessarily the exact distance .
Is there an argument that you need to sell social distancing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feet is kind of a handy , helpful way of thinking about it ?
I think it ’ s helpful , but it ’ s not fully complete .
It has an idiosyncratic history that comes from both old literature on the spread of meningitis among kids in a Texas classroom , in the early nineteen-eighties , and some old studies by the military on sneezing , as well as how people got SARS from a flight between Hong Kong and Beijing twenty years ago .
I think the important thing that people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it ’ s at least six feet .
And what I mean by that is , there ’ s no evidence that anything less than six feet is at all safe .
And there is evidence that , again , when people who are uncovered have big coughs or sneezes , they can sneeze twenty feet or more .
So the key , to me , since “ six feet ” is already in the lexicon , is not to debate six or eight or twelve , when the science isn ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s so much individual variation .
Let ’ s have a minimum .
And let ’ s extend our knowledge by saying it ’ s at least six feet .
And since it may be more , be wary of that , especially in indoor environments .
Understand that masks can really help , I think , a lot more than we understood at first with this condition , because of their containment capacity .
And understand , from some of these super-spreader events , like the choir in Washington or the religious @ @ @ @ @ @ @ singing or talking for long periods of time in an enclosed space can be risky .
And so it ’ s both distance and density , and then time exposure .
So six feet is a good starting point , but it ’ s not the end of the discussion .
We didn ’ t talk about masks two months ago , but from what you ’ re saying it seems that they ’ re extremely helpful , primarily because they keep people from spreading , rather than preventing people from breathing it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
We were , I think , way too focussed on the protective properties of the particular material in the mask as constructed , and whether it can protect you when you enter a zone of known infection .
So we were thinking about masks , really , in too much of a biomedical context .
Is this mask safe enough for a health-care worker or a relative to step into a zone with someone who has an infection ?
Now , that ’ s an important use case .
But now that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or at least expanded it , to think more from a public-health or community perspective , we ’ ve actually learned to think of masks from the inside out .
And this is why , even a hundred years ago , they were so popular and actually sternly advised by public-health authorities during the great influenza outbreak .
And so if everyone ’ s wearing a mask , even if each individual mask has holes , you have that protection because we ’ re containing it .
So that ’ s been a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of this dynamic .
So I assume you would say that we should all be wearing masks if we do something like go to a beach , or go to a hiking trail , even if we ’ re six feet apart from everyone while we ’ re there .
I do .
People love to be Talmudic about this : “ If I ’ m walking in the woods , and there ’ s no one around me , not even a bear , can I take the mask off ?
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Fine .
If you can not see another person around you , and it ’ s in a well-ventilated , outdoor area , fine , I would suppose that you don ’ t need a mask .
But if you are going to a crowded beach , a crowded park , walking down the street where people are talking and breathing and coughing and sneezing , you should wear a mask .
Would you say that the conventional wisdom in the last couple months , as you have hinted at , is moving @ @ @ @ @ @ @ less concern about outdoor spaces , even with people ?
Yes .
I think that what we ’ ve learned by understanding some of these super-spreading events , but also by carefully monitoring what ’ s happened to our health-care-worker population , is that by far the riskier interactions happen in densely packed indoor spaces , where there ’ s poor air circulation and where there are more surfaces that are coming in contact with multiple people .
So the biker who ’ s whizzing past you , even if they ’ re @ @ @ @ @ @ @ outdoor environment with wind and air , you need a certain density of viral particles to effectively transmit the disease .
And while a person breathing heavily on a bike zooming past you might exhale more air , they ’ re doing it over a huge space and they ’ re doing it in a way that is so transient that it ’ s unlikely to affect you .
We ’ ve learned more about surfaces , and the fact that this can stay around on metal or plastic for three hours .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ to not climb all over the same playground structures , though that ’ s not where the majority of transmission has happened .
The majority of transmission is happening in indoor , poorly ventilated environments commonly used by multiple people who are coming in and out .
And I think that ’ s where the focus of our transmission reduction should be .

Two months ago, I interviewed Asaf Bitton, a primary-care physician and public-health researcher who directs the Ariadne Labs at Brigham and Women’s Hospital and Harvard’s School of Public Health, about the guidelines he had compiled on how to best practice social distancing. These guidelines were released on March 13th, just as states were issuing shelter-in-place orders and Americans were wondering how they should perform basic activities, like daily walks and grocery runs.
Now, with businesses beginning to open up, and activity set to increase, I spoke by phone with Bitton again. I wanted to know what scientists had learned over the past few months about best practices for social distancing, what activities people should feel more comfortable doing, and where people should exercise more caution. In our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, we discussed why public-health officials have changed the way they think about masks, the risks of socializing indoors, and the problem of public bathrooms.
What have we learned about the best social-distancing practices in the last ten weeks?
I think that we’ve learned from a number of studies that social distancing, when practiced en masse and consistently, actually can work to drive down the rate of growth of cases. This has gone from theoretical economic-modelling literature to a lot better epidemiological data. The practices that work are really the practices that reduce the ability of respiratory droplets to easily travel to other people. So that means that we’ve learned that it’s not just the distance quotient or equation. In fact, we’ve learned that sneezes and coughs can actually amplify beyond the six feet, but, in fact, that masks are really effective. Ventilation is really important. And the time interval that separates people from touching the same objects is important. So making sure that we’re not just washing hands but also not touching the same objects, especially indoor objects, is the hallmark of effective distancing strategies.
I’ve heard people say, well, six feet is not necessarily the exact distance. Is there an argument that you need to sell social distancing to the public, and that six feet is kind of a handy, helpful way of thinking about it?
I think it’s helpful, but it’s not fully complete. It has an idiosyncratic history that comes from both old literature on the spread of meningitis among kids in a Texas classroom, in the early nineteen-eighties, and some old studies by the military on sneezing, as well as how people got SARS from a flight between Hong Kong and Beijing twenty years ago. I think the important thing that people need to remember is the idea that it’s at least six feet. And what I mean by that is, there’s no evidence that anything less than six feet is at all safe. And there is evidence that, again, when people who are uncovered have big coughs or sneezes, they can sneeze twenty feet or more.
So the key, to me, since “six feet” is already in the lexicon, is not to debate six or eight or twelve, when the science isn’t really perfect about that and there’s so much individual variation. Let’s have a minimum. And let’s extend our knowledge by saying it’s at least six feet. And since it may be more, be wary of that, especially in indoor environments. Understand that masks can really help, I think, a lot more than we understood at first with this condition, because of their containment capacity. And understand, from some of these super-spreader events, like the choir in Washington or the religious service in California, that even people singing or talking for long periods of time in an enclosed space can be risky. And so it’s both distance and density, and then time exposure. So six feet is a good starting point, but it’s not the end of the discussion.
We didn’t talk about masks two months ago, but from what you’re saying it seems that they’re extremely helpful, primarily because they keep people from spreading, rather than preventing people from breathing it in. Is that correct?
Exactly. We were, I think, way too focussed on the protective properties of the particular material in the mask as constructed, and whether it can protect you when you enter a zone of known infection. So we were thinking about masks, really, in too much of a biomedical context. Is this mask safe enough for a health-care worker or a relative to step into a zone with someone who has an infection?
Now, that’s an important use case. But now that we’ve inverted our thinking, or at least expanded it, to think more from a public-health or community perspective, we’ve actually learned to think of masks from the inside out. And this is why, even a hundred years ago, they were so popular and actually sternly advised by public-health authorities during the great influenza outbreak. And so if everyone’s wearing a mask, even if each individual mask has holes, you have that protection because we’re containing it. So that’s been a major extension of our imagination or understanding of this dynamic.
So I assume you would say that we should all be wearing masks if we do something like go to a beach, or go to a hiking trail, even if we’re six feet apart from everyone while we’re there.
I do. People love to be Talmudic about this: “If I’m walking in the woods, and there’s no one around me, not even a bear, can I take the mask off?” And you know what? Yes. Fine. If you cannot see another person around you, and it’s in a well-ventilated, outdoor area, fine, I would suppose that you don’t need a mask. But if you are going to a crowded beach, a crowded park, walking down the street where people are talking and breathing and coughing and sneezing, you should wear a mask.
Would you say that the conventional wisdom in the last couple months, as you have hinted at, is moving more toward concern about indoor areas and less concern about outdoor spaces, even with people?
Yes. I think that what we’ve learned by understanding some of these super-spreading events, but also by carefully monitoring what’s happened to our health-care-worker population, is that by far the riskier interactions happen in densely packed indoor spaces, where there’s poor air circulation and where there are more surfaces that are coming in contact with multiple people. So the biker who’s whizzing past you, even if they’re breathing heavily—if you’re in an outdoor environment with wind and air, you need a certain density of viral particles to effectively transmit the disease. And while a person breathing heavily on a bike zooming past you might exhale more air, they’re doing it over a huge space and they’re doing it in a way that is so transient that it’s unlikely to affect you.