newyorker--2020-06-16--The Three People at the Center of the Landmark Supreme Court Decision

I keep thinking about their jobs .
Funeral director .
Advocate for at-risk children .
Skydiving instructor .
These were the jobs held—and lost—by Aimee Stephens , Gerald Bostock , and Donald Zarda , the names at the center of Monday ’ s landmark Supreme Court decision , which ruled that Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 protects L.G.B.T.Q .
workers from employment discrimination .
The 6–3 ruling is a resounding victory for the L.G.B.T.Q.-rights movement and the result of lifetimes of work by activists , advocates , and civil-rights lawyers .
Its protections will radiate outward @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and it feels big .
But one remarkable thing about cases like these is their specificity , the way that a plaintiff ’ s idiosyncratic circumstance expands like shadow puppetry over the law .
Think of the eclectic cast of characters that populate Supreme Court history , among them Mildred and Richard Loving and Edith Windsor and Thea Spyer , married couples whose stories are now etched into Loving v. Virginia and United States v. Windsor .
Others are less perfectly cast in the role of trailblazer , notably Norma McCorvey , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , who died , in 2017 , after becoming an unlikely anti-abortion advocate .
Her saga is still playing out , thanks to a recent revelation that she had confessed , on her deathbed , to being paid to oppose the rights that her own case had granted .
Monday ’ s ruling is the end result of three intertwined cases , in which two gay men and a transgender woman alleged that they were fired for who they are .
So who are they ?
Donald Zarda , of Altitude Express Inc. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ twenties , around the time when he told his family that he was gay .
In July , 2010 , he was working as an instructor at Skydive Long Island , in Calverton , New York .
A female student , whom he was preparing for a tandem flight , told him that she was nervous about getting strapped to a “ really sexy guy.
” Zarda said not to worry—he was “ a hundred-per-cent gay.
” The jump went fine , but he was fired soon after .
The company had shifting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the woman inappropriately , then that she had been offended by his remark .
Struggling to find employment , Zarda “ lost his motivation to do most everything , ” his partner , Bill Moore , told NewNowNext .
He lamented , “ My wings have been clipped.
” Google searches of Zarda ’ s name turned up articles about his supposed “ groping , ” and he sued to clear his name and recover his lost summer earnings .
But he became depressed and sought bigger and bigger adrenaline rushes .
He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to “ fly ” around for minutes before descending , and then took up BASE jumping , in which you jump off fixed objects , such as buildings and antennae .
In 2014 , while jumping off a cliff in Switzerland , he died , at forty-four .
Moore and Zarda ’ s sister , Melissa , continued to fight his battle in court .
Aimee Stephens , of R. G. & G. R. Harris Funeral Homes Inc. v. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission , was working at a funeral home in suburban Detroit @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her colleagues , “ What I must tell you is very difficult for me and is taking all the courage I can muster .
I have felt imprisoned in a body that does not match my mind , and this has caused me great despair and loneliness.
” Born in 1960 , in North Carolina , Stephens earned her degree in mortuary science in 1988 .
She had come out to her wife , Donna , in 2009 , and tried to live as a woman at home and as a man at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at one point , she stood in her back yard with a gun to her head .
She had worked at the funeral home for six years before informing her co-workers that she would be returning as “ my true self , Aimee Australia Stephens.
” She was fired two weeks later , because “ he wanted to dress as a woman , ” her employer said .
She filed a complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and tried , unsuccessfully , to get hired at other funeral homes nearby .
She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her own health declined .
She died last month , of complications from kidney failure .
As Masha Gessen wrote then , Stephens “ had found a great sense of purpose in her job , in the role of someone who comforts families in grief , ” according to her lawyer , Jay Kaplan—but she had found renewed purpose fighting against discrimination .
Gerald Bostock ( Bostock v. Clayton County ) loved working with young people .
As the child-welfare-services coördinator for the juvenile court of Clayton County , Georgia , his job @ @ @ @ @ @ @ through the court ’ s special-advocate program , CASA .
In 2013 , the same year that Stephens was fired , Bostock joined a gay softball team with the Hotlanta Softball League , and recruited some of his teammates to become CASA volunteers .
He claimed that he got snide remarks at work , about his sexuality and about the softball league .
One day , he showed up at work and found that his key swipe had been disabled .
He said that an internal audit of CASA ’ s funds was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , for the stated reason of “ conduct unbecoming of a county employee.
” “ Imagine having a job you love , that ’ s your dream job , and all of a sudden losing it , ” he told the Daily Beast .
He was unable to find another job in child welfare ( he later became a mental-health counsellor at Georgia Regional Hospital ) , and he had lost his insurance just as he was recovering from prostate cancer .
But , unlike Zarda and Stephens , he lived to see @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The pathways that brought Bostock , Zarda , and Stephens to the highest court in the land will be the stuff of legal textbooks , but their stories are linked in other ways .
They all loved their jobs and , by all accounts , were excellent at doing them .
None was working for just a paycheck ; all were following their passions , whether for child welfare , for helping grieving families , or for the thrilling , open sky .
These passions defined them , and , when they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their income ( which is plenty bad enough ) but parts of their identities , even as they redefined themselves as legal crusaders .
It ’ s especially significant that Stephens ’ s case was bound with the others , putting transgender rights at the heart of a movement that has too often relegated them to the sidelines .
The L.G.B.T.Q.-rights movement has had internal disagreements for years over the decision to prioritize marriage equality over other battles , including employment discrimination .
Marriage is so personal , so endemic to who people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tax benefits or hospital-visitation rights , drove the rapid success of the marriage-equality movement .
But it ’ s clear from these cases that the right to work in a chosen profession can be just as elemental .
By forcing Stephens to divorce her gender identity from her work at the funeral home , or Bostock to separate his gayness ( and his softball participation ) from his advocacy , their employers were fracturing their selfhood .
Then again , some people ’ s jobs are simply how they get by , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as any .
In a time of skyrocketing unemployment and altered working habits , we ’ ve heard a lot about “ essential workers , ” which sometimes seems like a backhanded compliment for people who have no other choice but to show up and make a buck .
The struggles of Bostock , Zarda , and Stephens show how deep discriminatory termination can cut , but the injustices don ’ t end there .
Why , for instance , should Bostock ’ s access to health care have been tied to his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would Stephens have fared under President Trump ’ s recent rollback of transgender health protections ( which the new ruling may invalidate ) ?
And what further risks to safety and stability were these plaintiffs protected from by their whiteness ?
Monday ’ s decision came just a day after tens of thousands of people gathered across the country to protest violence against black trans people , a mass action inspired , in part , by the deaths of Dominique Fells and Riah Milton , who were killed within twenty-four hours of each @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Zarda , and Stephens offered a glimmer of justice in an unjust time , but , as much as the movement expanded with their individual stories , it has room for many more still .

I keep thinking about their jobs. Funeral director. Advocate for at-risk children. Skydiving instructor.
These were the jobs held—and lost—by Aimee Stephens, Gerald Bostock, and Donald Zarda, the names at the center of Monday’s landmark Supreme Court decision, which ruled that Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 protects L.G.B.T.Q. workers from employment discrimination. The 6–3 ruling is a resounding victory for the L.G.B.T.Q.-rights movement and the result of lifetimes of work by activists, advocates, and civil-rights lawyers. Its protections will radiate outward for generations. It’s big, and it feels big. But one remarkable thing about cases like these is their specificity, the way that a plaintiff’s idiosyncratic circumstance expands like shadow puppetry over the law. Think of the eclectic cast of characters that populate Supreme Court history, among them Mildred and Richard Loving and Edith Windsor and Thea Spyer, married couples whose stories are now etched into Loving v. Virginia and United States v. Windsor. Others are less perfectly cast in the role of trailblazer, notably Norma McCorvey, the Jane Roe of Roe v. Wade, who died, in 2017, after becoming an unlikely anti-abortion advocate. Her saga is still playing out, thanks to a recent revelation that she had confessed, on her deathbed, to being paid to oppose the rights that her own case had granted.
Monday’s ruling is the end result of three intertwined cases, in which two gay men and a transgender woman alleged that they were fired for who they are. So who are they? Donald Zarda, of Altitude Express Inc. v. Zarda, began skydiving in his twenties, around the time when he told his family that he was gay. In July, 2010, he was working as an instructor at Skydive Long Island, in Calverton, New York. A female student, whom he was preparing for a tandem flight, told him that she was nervous about getting strapped to a “really sexy guy.” Zarda said not to worry—he was “a hundred-per-cent gay.” The jump went fine, but he was fired soon after. The company had shifting explanations: first that he had touched the woman inappropriately, then that she had been offended by his remark. Struggling to find employment, Zarda “lost his motivation to do most everything,” his partner, Bill Moore, told NewNowNext. He lamented, “My wings have been clipped.” Google searches of Zarda’s name turned up articles about his supposed “groping,” and he sued to clear his name and recover his lost summer earnings. But he became depressed and sought bigger and bigger adrenaline rushes. He bought a wingsuit, which allows skydivers to “fly” around for minutes before descending, and then took up BASE jumping, in which you jump off fixed objects, such as buildings and antennae. In 2014, while jumping off a cliff in Switzerland, he died, at forty-four. Moore and Zarda’s sister, Melissa, continued to fight his battle in court.
Aimee Stephens, of R. G. & G. R. Harris Funeral Homes Inc. v. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, was working at a funeral home in suburban Detroit, in 2013, when she wrote her colleagues, “What I must tell you is very difficult for me and is taking all the courage I can muster. I have felt imprisoned in a body that does not match my mind, and this has caused me great despair and loneliness.” Born in 1960, in North Carolina, Stephens earned her degree in mortuary science in 1988. She had come out to her wife, Donna, in 2009, and tried to live as a woman at home and as a man at work. But it was impossible; at one point, she stood in her back yard with a gun to her head. She had worked at the funeral home for six years before informing her co-workers that she would be returning as “my true self, Aimee Australia Stephens.” She was fired two weeks later, because “he wanted to dress as a woman,” her employer said. She filed a complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and tried, unsuccessfully, to get hired at other funeral homes nearby. She retrained as a medical assistant, but her own health declined. She died last month, of complications from kidney failure. As Masha Gessen wrote then, Stephens “had found a great sense of purpose in her job, in the role of someone who comforts families in grief,” according to her lawyer, Jay Kaplan—but she had found renewed purpose fighting against discrimination.
Gerald Bostock (Bostock v. Clayton County) loved working with young people. As the child-welfare-services coördinator for the juvenile court of Clayton County, Georgia, his job was to help abused and neglected youths through the court’s special-advocate program, CASA. In 2013, the same year that Stephens was fired, Bostock joined a gay softball team with the Hotlanta Softball League, and recruited some of his teammates to become CASA volunteers. He claimed that he got snide remarks at work, about his sexuality and about the softball league. One day, he showed up at work and found that his key swipe had been disabled. He said that an internal audit of CASA’s funds was used as a pretext to fire him, for the stated reason of “conduct unbecoming of a county employee.” “Imagine having a job you love, that’s your dream job, and all of a sudden losing it,” he told the Daily Beast. He was unable to find another job in child welfare (he later became a mental-health counsellor at Georgia Regional Hospital), and he had lost his insurance just as he was recovering from prostate cancer. But, unlike Zarda and Stephens, he lived to see his case decided by the Supreme Court.


newyorker--2020-06-16--Daily Cartoon: Tuesday, June 16th

Daily Cartoon: Tuesday, June 16th

© 2020 Condé Nast .
All rights reserved .
Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our User Agreement ( @ @ @ @ @ Policy and Cookie Statement ( updated 1/1/20 ) and Your California Privacy Rights .
Do @ @ @ @ @ may earn a portion of sales from products that are purchased through our site as @ @ @ @ @ with retailers .
The material on this site may not be reproduced , distributed , @ @ @ @ @ used , except with the prior written permission of Condé Nast .
Ad Choices

“Can the humans cure racism, end poverty, and stop climate change in time? Tune in next week to find out.”


newyorker--2020-06-17--Other Ways to Spend the N.Y.P.D.’s $5.6 Billion Annual Budget

Free Ice-Cream Cones for Every New Yorker Five and a half billion dollars divided by the population of New York City ( 8.3 million ) divided by the cost of an average New York City ice-cream cone ( let ’ s say five dollars ) equals a hundred and thirty-five free ice-cream cones for each New York City resident !
Peloton Memberships for However Many People $ 5.6 Billion Covers Gyms have been closed since March , but , thanks to fancy new machines called stationary bikes , privileged New Yorkers have been able to stay in shape from the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
We have no idea how much a Peloton membership costs , but billions of dollars should probably cover at least ten people ’ s fitness needs .
A Functional Network of Chutes and Ladders for Getting Around The M.T.A .
finally started cleaning the subway , but , owing to inevitable crowding , it ’ s still a far cry from a desirable mode of transportation .
A climbing-and-sliding-based system would make it easier than ever to chute from Bay Ridge to the Upper East Side !
Summer is here , bringing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ outfits should be considered a crime .
If officers spent more time enforcing reasonable fashion sense instead of escalating peaceful protests , the streets would be a safer and more aesthetically pleasing place for all of us .
Barry Diller is building a floating park in the Hudson River for two hundred and fifty million dollars .
But , with billions freed up , the city could build an entire other borough : Off-Duty Island ( working title ) , where civilians could gather peacefully to exercise their rights !
Tank-builders have families @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are pretty cool , militarized use of force against unarmed Americans is definitely not .
New York should keep buying tanks but swap out their weapons for bumper guards , add some splashes of color , and make them publicly accessible .
What used to be dangerous tools of war can now be family-friendly Citi Tanks !
Do Something About the New York Jets From COVID-19 to police brutality , the city has suffered enough of late .
So , when football season starts back up , let ’ s use the N.Y.P.D @ @ @ @ @ @ @ prevent the team from causing us any more heartache by dissolving it altogether .
We ’ ve tried reform for decades ; now ’ s the time to # AbolishTheJets .
Content isn ’ t cheap , but that doesn ’ t mean that New York City can ’ t compete !
If Quibi was launched for a measily $ 1.75 billion , just imagine how N.Y.P.D.+ could dominate the streaming war , with shows such as “ Excessive Force Makeover , ” “ Cop Friends , ” “ Sex and the City @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Becker , ” for some reason .
Just Give Five Lucky People $ 1.12 Billion Each If you could pull a lever that defunded the police and entered your name in a raffle to become a billionaire overnight , wouldn ’ t you do it ?
Every year , New York could christen a quintet of new billionaires , who would bring unique perspectives to their tax bracket and , one hopes , change billionaire culture for the better .
It could also go terribly wrong , but what else is new @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Services , Early-Childhood Education , Youth Programs , and Affordable Housing for the City ’ s Disadvantaged and Vulnerable Dump the Money in the River Stuff the cash into sacks with dollar signs on them , as if they came from a bank heist in a silent film .
Drive truck after truck to the Hudson River and just keep dumping the sacks into the water .
Not unlike the historic Boston Tea Party , except it ’ d be a $ 5.6 Billion in Sacks of Money Party !
One Giant Ice-Cream @ @ @ @ @ @ @ !
Essential workers get first dibs .

Free Ice-Cream Cones for Every New Yorker
Five and a half billion dollars divided by the population of New York City (8.3 million) divided by the cost of an average New York City ice-cream cone (let’s say five dollars) equals a hundred and thirty-five free ice-cream cones for each New York City resident!
Peloton Memberships for However Many People $5.6 Billion Covers
Gyms have been closed since March, but, thanks to fancy new machines called stationary bikes, privileged New Yorkers have been able to stay in shape from the comfort and safety of their own apartments. We have no idea how much a Peloton membership costs, but billions of dollars should probably cover at least ten people’s fitness needs.
A Functional Network of Chutes and Ladders for Getting Around
The M.T.A. finally started cleaning the subway, but, owing to inevitable crowding, it’s still a far cry from a desirable mode of transportation. A climbing-and-sliding-based system would make it easier than ever to chute from Bay Ridge to the Upper East Side!
Fashion Police
Summer is here, bringing with it droves of would-be fashionistas whose outfits should be considered a crime. If officers spent more time enforcing reasonable fashion sense instead of escalating peaceful protests, the streets would be a safer and more aesthetically pleasing place for all of us.
Construct a Sixth Borough
Barry Diller is building a floating park in the Hudson River for two hundred and fifty million dollars. But, with billions freed up, the city could build an entire other borough: Off-Duty Island (working title), where civilians could gather peacefully to exercise their rights!
Tanks, but More Fun
Tank-builders have families, too. But, although tanks are pretty cool, militarized use of force against unarmed Americans is definitely not. New York should keep buying tanks but swap out their weapons for bumper guards, add some splashes of color, and make them publicly accessible. What used to be dangerous tools of war can now be family-friendly Citi Tanks!
Do Something About the New York Jets
From COVID-19 to police brutality, the city has suffered enough of late. So, when football season starts back up, let’s use the N.Y.P.D. budget to buy the Jets and prevent the team from causing us any more heartache by dissolving it altogether. We’ve tried reform for decades; now’s the time to #AbolishTheJets.
A New Streaming Service
Content isn’t cheap, but that doesn’t mean that New York City can’t compete! If Quibi was launched for a measily $1.75 billion, just imagine how N.Y.P.D.+ could dominate the streaming war, with shows such as “Excessive Force Makeover,” “Cop Friends,” “Sex and the City Cop,” and a revival of “Becker,” for some reason.
Just Give Five Lucky People $1.12 Billion Each
If you could pull a lever that defunded the police and entered your name in a raffle to become a billionaire overnight, wouldn’t you do it? Every year, New York could christen a quintet of new billionaires, who would bring unique perspectives to their tax bracket and, one hopes, change billionaire culture for the better. It could also go terribly wrong, but what else is new?
Fund Universal Health Care, Social Services, Early-Childhood Education, Youth Programs, and Affordable Housing for the City’s Disadvantaged and Vulnerable
Can you imagine?
Dump the Money in the River
Stuff the cash into sacks with dollar signs on them, as if they came from a bank heist in a silent film. Drive truck after truck to the Hudson River and just keep dumping the sacks into the water. Not unlike the historic Boston Tea Party, except it’d be a $5.6 Billion in Sacks of Money Party!
One Giant Ice-Cream Cone That Everyone Can Lick
With sprinkles! Essential workers get first dibs.


newyorker--2020-06-17--A New Group of Leftist Primary Challengers Campaign Through Protests and the Coronavirus

Late on the night of June 2nd , I encountered something I hadn ’ t seen in quite some time : good news .
Scrolling through Twitter , I noticed that Nikil Saval , an old friend and collaborator ( and a New Yorker contributor ) looked to be the likely winner of a long-shot primary campaign against the Democratic incumbent , Larry Farnese , for a Pennsylvania State Senate seat , though absentee ballots were still being counted .
Shortly after Saval declared victory , almost two weeks later , the tally was 35,709 to 27,001 .
Saval didn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ demolished him .
Before I came across the news about Saval , my searches for updates from Philadelphia had surfaced far more disturbing results : riot cops assaulting Black Lives Matter protesters with rubber bullets and tear gas ; an angry white mob armed with baseball bats patrolling the Fishtown neighborhood .
I read a distressing first-person account of how difficult it was to cast a ballot in the primary : seventy per cent of polling places were closed , and vehicle traffic was prohibited , forcing voters to travel by foot or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gasped at a series of photos of a bloodied young man who ventured out despite a head injury .
“ If Joe can vote after the cops beat him , you can too , ” the tweeter enjoined .
Saval , who helped found Reclaim Philadelphia—a community group that has played a key role in supporting successful anti-establishment campaigns—is part of a national effort to transform the Democratic Party by pulling it to the left .
Across the country , political novices , inspired by Bernie Sanders ’ s Presidential bids and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez—have thrown their hats into the electoral ring .
These campaigns tend to coalesce around a core set of policies : Medicare for All , cancelling student debt , free public college , criminal-justice reform , and a Green New Deal .
It ’ s not enough to win more power for Democrats , Jenifer Fernandez Ancona of Way to Win , a hub for progressive donors , told me .
The goal is to win power within the Democratic Party .
Primary challengers face an uphill climb under normal circumstances @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in Congress—two Democrats and three Republicans—lost their seats , despite the fact that more than a third of Democrats and nearly half of Republicans faced challengers .
But the insurgents campaigning this spring and summer have had the terrain shift dramatically under their feet .
There is no map for running a primary campaign during a global pandemic , let alone a pandemic coupled with a historic wave of civil-rights protests .
Connecting face-to-face is central to insurgent campaigns , but COVID-19 made door-knocking potentially lethal .
Campaigns had to shift to phone @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ ve had to educate potential supporters on not just whom to vote for but how to vote , after vote-by-mail rules changed almost overnight .
Delayed primaries have caused additional confusion about when , exactly , elections are taking place and have also forced candidates to keep fund-raising beyond the expected finish line .
Since March , experts have speculated that the pandemic would further tip the scales toward incumbents—that anxiety about the future might push voters toward familiar figures , and that incumbents ’ more abundant cash reserves would allow them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ expensive advertising blitzes .
The day after he formally declared victory , Saval told me he too initially assumed the worst .
“ When we couldn ’ t knock on doors , we had to be much more active and creative , ” Saval said .
Meanwhile , his opponent failed to adapt .
“ They just went on TV—they used mail .
They didn ’ t make phone calls or have people at the polls like we did.
” As a result , Saval ’ s team mobilized a comparatively young , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ happened across Pennsylvania , where at least nine progressive candidates defeated more moderate Democratic opponents ; Rick Krajewski , another Reclaim organizer , is likely heading to the state house with Saval after the general election in the fall .
The same day , in New Mexico , five incumbent state senators were ousted by progressives in the Democratic primaries .
Teresa Leger Fernandez , a local attorney and activist , won an outright victory in a seven-way primary for New Mexico ’ s Third Congressional District , beating the former C.I.A .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Washington , D.C. , Janeese Lewis George , a thirty-two-year-old attorney and a democratic socialist , won a decisive upset against the incumbent D.C.-council member Brandon Todd , a former Republican .
She secured critical union endorsements by talking directly to the rank and file , and strategically mobilized voters by having volunteers reach out to fellow Spanish speakers or neighbors contact people living nearby .
As the weeks wore on and the coronavirus crisis deepened , her opponent ’ s opposition to paid family leave , increasing wages for tipped workers , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of touch .
In May , Democrats for Education Reform DC , which endorsed Todd , sent out a mailer attacking George ’ s commitment to reallocating part of the police budget ; little did it know that defunding the police would soon be a national rallying cry .
“ Reality endorsed me at the right time , ” George reflected , clearly pleased .
By campaigning as Democrats , instead of running on a third-party ticket , candidates like George and Saval are reviving an old and largely forgotten tradition .
A @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as a progressive reform to take power away from corrupt party bosses , insiders worried that radicals would use them to hijack the two main parties—and their fears were soon realized .
In 1915 , a former Socialist Party organizer named Arthur C. Townley founded the Nonpartisan League , in North Dakota , which connected poor rural farmers around economic grievances , overcoming differences in members ’ ethnicity and religion to build a powerful organization .
Applying the group ’ s experience with coöperative economics to the political realm , it demanded a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to stop exploitation by large agriculture firms .
Using the primary system , the Nonpartisan League was able to capture the North Dakota Republican Party , and it briefly controlled the state government .
The bank and mill it built are still in operation .
A similar strategy is taking hold among some leftists today .
Last year , the Chicago branch of the Democratic Socialists of America formally endorsed a group of five candidates for local government ; they now control six of the city ’ s fifty council seats .
Inspired @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are now running as a D.S.A.-backed slate for a variety of state offices in New York .
Their common platform includes support for single-payer health care , public housing and tenant protections , immigrant and worker rights , defunding the police , and a Green New Deal .
They do joint fund-raisers and outreach to expand their collective influence .
Jabari Brisport , a math teacher from Brooklyn who is running for an open State Senate seat as part of the slate , told me that the collaborative campaigning reflects socialist principles .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” he said .
Brisport told me that he knocked on seven hundred doors as part of Julia Salazar ’ s successful campaign for the State Senate , in 2018 , a tactic that is off the table during the pandemic .
( In one of history ’ s many strange echoes , the Nonpartisan League ’ s success beyond North Dakota was hampered by the arrival of the 1918 Spanish flu , which led to a prohibition on public gatherings and made people reluctant to open their doors for campaigners .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ has shifted to a digital strategy , making calls and sending texts by the thousands and hosting events and fund-raisers .
More significantly , all the candidates I spoke to have remade their campaigns to prioritize direct service and mutual aid .
Samelys López , a longtime community activist whose organizing chops helped propel Ocasio-Cortez to Congress , is a slate candidate running for an open seat in New York ’ s Fifteenth District , which is the poorest and most Democratic district in the country .
“ In our wellness checks ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are — “ what we are seeing is hunger , ” López told me .
Sometimes López delivers food in the district , using meal delivery to connect neighbors so they can begin advocating for their rights .
“ I feel like the people that live here in this community subsidize everyone ’ s way of life in the city and outside of the city , ” López observed .
They are the front-line workers keeping everyone else afloat and risking their lives just by doing their jobs .
“ It seems to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , we should compensate people for putting their lives on the line .
”

Late on the night of June 2nd, I encountered something I hadn’t seen in quite some time: good news. Scrolling through Twitter, I noticed that Nikil Saval, an old friend and collaborator (and a New Yorker contributor) looked to be the likely winner of a long-shot primary campaign against the Democratic incumbent, Larry Farnese, for a Pennsylvania State Senate seat, though absentee ballots were still being counted. Shortly after Saval declared victory, almost two weeks later, the tally was 35,709 to 27,001. Saval didn’t just beat Farnese; he demolished him.
Before I came across the news about Saval, my searches for updates from Philadelphia had surfaced far more disturbing results: riot cops assaulting Black Lives Matter protesters with rubber bullets and tear gas; an angry white mob armed with baseball bats patrolling the Fishtown neighborhood. I read a distressing first-person account of how difficult it was to cast a ballot in the primary: seventy per cent of polling places were closed, and vehicle traffic was prohibited, forcing voters to travel by foot or bicycle past the National Guard. I gasped at a series of photos of a bloodied young man who ventured out despite a head injury. “If Joe can vote after the cops beat him, you can too,” the tweeter enjoined.
Saval, who helped found Reclaim Philadelphia—a community group that has played a key role in supporting successful anti-establishment campaigns—is part of a national effort to transform the Democratic Party by pulling it to the left. Across the country, political novices, inspired by Bernie Sanders’s Presidential bids and the rise of unapologetically left-wing candidates—most visibly, Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez—have thrown their hats into the electoral ring. These campaigns tend to coalesce around a core set of policies: Medicare for All, cancelling student debt, free public college, criminal-justice reform, and a Green New Deal. It’s not enough to win more power for Democrats, Jenifer Fernandez Ancona of Way to Win, a hub for progressive donors, told me. The goal is to win power within the Democratic Party.
Primary challengers face an uphill climb under normal circumstances. In 2016, only five incumbents in Congress—two Democrats and three Republicans—lost their seats, despite the fact that more than a third of Democrats and nearly half of Republicans faced challengers. But the insurgents campaigning this spring and summer have had the terrain shift dramatically under their feet. There is no map for running a primary campaign during a global pandemic, let alone a pandemic coupled with a historic wave of civil-rights protests. Connecting face-to-face is central to insurgent campaigns, but COVID-19 made door-knocking potentially lethal. Campaigns had to shift to phone calls and digital outreach, and they’ve had to educate potential supporters on not just whom to vote for but how to vote, after vote-by-mail rules changed almost overnight. Delayed primaries have caused additional confusion about when, exactly, elections are taking place and have also forced candidates to keep fund-raising beyond the expected finish line.
Since March, experts have speculated that the pandemic would further tip the scales toward incumbents—that anxiety about the future might push voters toward familiar figures, and that incumbents’ more abundant cash reserves would allow them to reach people sheltering at home with expensive advertising blitzes. The day after he formally declared victory, Saval told me he too initially assumed the worst. “When we couldn’t knock on doors, we had to be much more active and creative,” Saval said. Meanwhile, his opponent failed to adapt. “They just went on TV—they used mail. They didn’t make phone calls or have people at the polls like we did.” As a result, Saval’s team mobilized a comparatively young, diverse group of voters. Something similar happened across Pennsylvania, where at least nine progressive candidates defeated more moderate Democratic opponents; Rick Krajewski, another Reclaim organizer, is likely heading to the state house with Saval after the general election in the fall. The same day, in New Mexico, five incumbent state senators were ousted by progressives in the Democratic primaries. Teresa Leger Fernandez, a local attorney and activist, won an outright victory in a seven-way primary for New Mexico’s Third Congressional District, beating the former C.I.A. officer Valerie Plame and others.
In Washington, D.C., Janeese Lewis George, a thirty-two-year-old attorney and a democratic socialist, won a decisive upset against the incumbent D.C.-council member Brandon Todd, a former Republican. She secured critical union endorsements by talking directly to the rank and file, and strategically mobilized voters by having volunteers reach out to fellow Spanish speakers or neighbors contact people living nearby. As the weeks wore on and the coronavirus crisis deepened, her opponent’s opposition to paid family leave, increasing wages for tipped workers, and demilitarizing the police seemed increasingly out of touch. In May, Democrats for Education Reform DC, which endorsed Todd, sent out a mailer attacking George’s commitment to reallocating part of the police budget; little did it know that defunding the police would soon be a national rallying cry. “Reality endorsed me at the right time,” George reflected, clearly pleased.
By campaigning as Democrats, instead of running on a third-party ticket, candidates like George and Saval are reviving an old and largely forgotten tradition. A century ago, when primaries were introduced as a progressive reform to take power away from corrupt party bosses, insiders worried that radicals would use them to hijack the two main parties—and their fears were soon realized. In 1915, a former Socialist Party organizer named Arthur C. Townley founded the Nonpartisan League, in North Dakota, which connected poor rural farmers around economic grievances, overcoming differences in members’ ethnicity and religion to build a powerful organization. Applying the group’s experience with coöperative economics to the political realm, it demanded a state-owned bank and state-owned mill and elevator to stop exploitation by large agriculture firms. Using the primary system, the Nonpartisan League was able to capture the North Dakota Republican Party, and it briefly controlled the state government. The bank and mill it built are still in operation.
A similar strategy is taking hold among some leftists today. Last year, the Chicago branch of the Democratic Socialists of America formally endorsed a group of five candidates for local government; they now control six of the city’s fifty council seats. Inspired by that example, six primary candidates are now running as a D.S.A.-backed slate for a variety of state offices in New York. Their common platform includes support for single-payer health care, public housing and tenant protections, immigrant and worker rights, defunding the police, and a Green New Deal. They do joint fund-raisers and outreach to expand their collective influence. Jabari Brisport, a math teacher from Brooklyn who is running for an open State Senate seat as part of the slate, told me that the collaborative campaigning reflects socialist principles. “It’s about sharing resources,” he said.
Brisport told me that he knocked on seven hundred doors as part of Julia Salazar’s successful campaign for the State Senate, in 2018, a tactic that is off the table during the pandemic. (In one of history’s many strange echoes, the Nonpartisan League’s success beyond North Dakota was hampered by the arrival of the 1918 Spanish flu, which led to a prohibition on public gatherings and made people reluctant to open their doors for campaigners.) In response, the D.S.A.-backed slate has shifted to a digital strategy, making calls and sending texts by the thousands and hosting events and fund-raisers. More significantly, all the candidates I spoke to have remade their campaigns to prioritize direct service and mutual aid. Samelys López, a longtime community activist whose organizing chops helped propel Ocasio-Cortez to Congress, is a slate candidate running for an open seat in New York’s Fifteenth District, which is the poorest and most Democratic district in the country. “In our wellness checks”—calls that begin with asking how people are —“what we are seeing is hunger,” López told me. Sometimes López delivers food in the district, using meal delivery to connect neighbors so they can begin advocating for their rights. “I feel like the people that live here in this community subsidize everyone’s way of life in the city and outside of the city,” López observed. They are the front-line workers keeping everyone else afloat and risking their lives just by doing their jobs. “It seems to me that, especially during this time, we should compensate people for putting their lives on the line.”
López was homeless as a young person; she’s lived in shelters and has had to depend on food banks. Her experiences, she believes, are part of what qualify her to hold office. Something similar could be said of Phara Souffrant Forrest, a thirty-one-year-old Haitian-American maternal-health field nurse, who is also running as part of D.S.A.’s slate. A lifelong resident of Crown Heights, in Brooklyn, and a longtime housing-justice activist, she is challenging the incumbent Walter Mosley for his seat in the State Assembly, running on a platform of tenants’ rights, free universal health care, and police reform. Forrest’s profession gives her an edge when it comes to making cold calls: these days, people are thrilled to learn that they have a nurse on the line. She’s had people ask her about medications and what to expect when giving birth at the hospital during the pandemic. (Cori Bush, a nurse who is running a primary campaign for Congress in Missouri, also commented on the public’s newfound respect for health-care workers: “When I say I’m a nurse, it’s like I said I was the Vice-President.”)
New York, which will hold its primary election on June 23rd, may well be the next state to see a wave of insurgents defeat Democratic incumbents. On Tuesday, June 2nd, at a community event focussed on police violence, the sixteen-term New York congressman Eliot Engel, of the Sixteenth District, was caught on a hot mike asking Bronx Borough President Rubén Díaz, Jr., for the chance to speak. “If I didn’t have a primary, I wouldn’t care,” Engel said, repeating himself to drive the point home.
Jamaal Bowman, a former middle-school principal, is Engel’s most formidable opponent. Backed by Justice Democrats, the political action committee that helped elect Ocasio-Cortez, Bowman has collected endorsements from Ocasio-Cortez, Bernie Sanders, and New York City’s public advocate, Jumaane Williams. In a recent televised debate, Bowman, who grew up in New York City’s Upper East Side, recounted first being racially profiled, when he was eleven. He was playing outside with friends and someone called the police, complaining of noise. “The police didn’t just approach us and ask us to be quiet—they handcuffed me, they threw me against the wall, they dragged my face on the ground,” he said. “I had to go upstairs and show my mother my face, which was all bruised up.” Bowman went on to talk about bipartisan crime bills and restorative justice. Engel, by contrast, began his remarks by blaming Donald Trump for the unrest and boasting about being part of the impeachment hearings.
The protesters filling the nation’s streets, many of whom may soon be heading to the polls, no doubt despise President Trump, but they also seem to understand that racism didn’t begin with his election. As Bowman sees it, the problem lies with institutions, not individuals, whether they are bad Presidents or bad cops. “Police brutality is a major component of institutional racism,” he told me. “But so are disparities in health care, housing, environmental justice, jobs, underfunded schools.” These disparities are apparent in the Sixteenth District, which encompasses southern Westchester County and parts of the Bronx, and is one of the most unequal districts in the country.


newyorker--2020-06-17--How the Charges Against Derek Chauvin Fit Into a Vision of Criminal-Justice Reform

I first saw the “ Hospital Arraignment ” shift listed on my schedule as a rookie prosecutor in Manhattan , in 2004 .
I soon learned that criminal arraignments routinely took place around a hospital bed , because it was common for a person to be seriously injured during his or her arrest .
A judge , prosecutor , defense lawyer , and court reporter would travel in a car to a local hospital , where the person lay handcuffed to the bed , and proceed to conduct the court hearing , stating the crime charged , asking for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ setting bail .
My first time , the defendant , a middle-aged African-American man who was arrested for a misdemeanor , was bloodied from head wounds and was moaning in pain .
The police claimed , incredibly , that the man had put his own head through the window of a police car .
We all knew that police officers ’ use of force was common , that they commonly tacked on an accusation of “ resisting arrest ” to misdemeanor charges in order to justify it , and that the legal system @ @ @ @ @ @ @ over an arrestee ’ s claim of excessive force .
My questioning of police accounts of arrests quickly led to my having an unfavorable reputation among cops I worked with .
I left the job only six months after I started .
George Floyd , of course , did not make it to a hospital arraignment in Minneapolis on May 25th .
He was killed by a white officer , Derek Chauvin , in the course of an arrest on suspicion of using a counterfeit twenty-dollar bill to buy cigarettes .
Chauvin kneeled @ @ @ @ @ @ @ nine minutes while Floyd pleaded , “ Please , I can ’ t breathe.
” Floyd ’ s death , in the light of day , as three other officers looked on or helped restrain him , was captured on video by a teen-age bystander .
The widespread demonstrations in response to Floyd ’ s killing have prompted myriad institutions across the country to denounce the racism that structures the elements of our society , from health care to housing to public education .
But demands for justice inevitably return to law and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for accountability commonly drive toward criminal punishment .
At first , protesters expressed outrage that Chauvin had not been immediately arrested .
After criminal charges against Chauvin were announced , on May 29th , protesters decried their insufficient severity .
The initial top charge was third-degree murder , with a maximum sentence of twenty-five years in prison .
That charge indicated that prosecutors believed that Chauvin did not have the intent to kill , but that he perpetrated “ an act eminently dangerous to others and evincing a depraved mind , without regard @ @ @ @ @ @ @ family immediately responded , “ We want a first-degree-murder charge.
” On May 29th , # RaisetheDegree was the No .
1 trending hashtag on Twitter , and one online petition that circulated under that title garnered several million signatures .
The Legal Rights Center and the A.C.L.U .
of Minnesota also raised concerns about the charge , noting that Minnesota courts have long held that , for third-degree murder , the defendant ’ s actions must be “ eminently dangerous to more than one person , ” which did not fit the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ prosecutors of purposely bringing a charge that was doomed to fail , saying it was “ inconceivable that experienced , professional Hennepin County prosecutors did not recognize the potential flaws , ” and that it “ only serves to further undermine community trust ” in the prosecution .
On June 1st , responding to complaints from Minnesota legislators , Governor Tim Walz transferred Floyd ’ s case from the county attorney to the state ’ s attorney general , Keith Ellison .
That day , calling again for a first-degree-murder charge , Floyd @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an independent autopsy that they had commissioned , from New York City ’ s former chief medical examiner and the director of Autopsy and Forensic Services at the University of Michigan .
An initial report from the Hennepin County Medical Examiner had provoked further outcry among protesters , by stating that there were “ no physical findings that support a diagnosis of traumatic asphyxia or strangulation ” ; the independent autopsy , however , found that the cause of death was “ asphyxia due to compression of the neck and the back.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he was adding a second-degree-murder charge to the complaint , attributing the change to his study of the evidence .
Asked about the influence of Floyd ’ s family and of protesters , Ellison insisted , “ I did not allow public pressure to impact our decision-making process .
I was prepared to withstand whatever calls came.
” The new charge of second-degree murder for Chauvin , under Minnesota law , does not require proof of his intent to kill .
Rather , it alleges that Chauvin caused Floyd ’ s death “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ felony ” —in this case , third-degree assault , which is defined as an assault that inflicts “ substantial bodily harm.
” This type of murder charge is commonly known as “ felony murder , ” wherein a person who unintentionally causes a death while perpetrating a crime may be punished as harshly as one who intentionally commits murder , on the theory that the punishment strongly deters people from engaging in the underlying conduct .
Felony-murder charges are often brought in robberies that accidentally result in death—and they have long been criticized @ @ @ @ @ @ @ incarceration .
It is especially controversial for prosecutors to use an assault as the underlying felony for felony murder , because that means that they may treat any assault that results in death as a murder , effectively undoing the grading scheme for greater and lesser degrees of homicide that legislatures have carefully created .
But , unlike that of most other states , Minnesota law allows prosecutors to charge felony murder using assault as the predicate crime .
With respect to Floyd ’ s killing , one may wonder why the prosecution @ @ @ @ @ @ @ murder , which requires an intent to kill and carries a maximum sentence of life imprisonment .
After all , Chauvin continued to kneel on Floyd ’ s neck for an excruciating eight minutes and forty-six seconds while Floyd said , “ Please , I can ’ t breathe , ” “ Mama , ” and “ I ’ m about to die.
” He did not let up even as Floyd became unconscious and another officer voiced worry about the position Floyd was held in .
It is hard to fathom how @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for a purpose other than to kill .
But first-degree murder also requires premeditation , which , in Chauvin ’ s case , was not apparent .
Pursuing first-degree murder , in Minnesota , requires a grand-jury indictment , unlike for lesser homicide charges , and , without clear evidence of premeditation , would therefore risk a grand jury ’ s refusal to indict , fuelling further outrage .
It is also possible that , even with an indictment , if a trial jury suspected prosecutorial overreach—in seeking charges higher than can be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the jury might look with more skepticism even at the evidence for the lesser homicide charges , which might also ultimately result in acquittal .
At his announcement , on May 31st , that he would be taking over the case , Ellison reminded the public of the need for “ a dose of reality.
” Prosecuting the police for murder , he said , “ is very difficult , ” as evidenced by “ the cases that have been in front of the public over the last many years.
” Grand juries @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Michael Brown , in Ferguson , Missouri , in 2014 ; Eric Garner , in Staten Island , in 2014 ; and Tamir Rice , in Cleveland , in 2014 .
The Department of Justice and Louisiana ’ s attorney general declined to charge the officers who killed Alton Sterling , in Baton Rouge , in 2016 .
And , in Hennepin County , the prosecutor did not charge the officers who killed Jamar Clark , in 2016 .
Six Baltimore officers were indicted for murder , manslaughter , and assault charges for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 2015 , but none of the cases ended in a conviction , and the Justice Department declined to bring any federal charges .
A jury returned an acquittal for manslaughter for the officer who killed Philando Castile , in Minnesota , in 2016 .
The murder trial of the officer who killed Walter Scott , in South Carolina , ended in a mistrial owing to a hung jury , in 2016 , but the officer pleaded guilty , in 2017 , to violating Scott ’ s federal civil rights and was sentenced to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
In 2018 , a Chicago jury convicted the officer who shot sixteen bullets at seventeen-year-old Laquan McDonald of second-degree murder , determining that the officer ’ s belief at the time that the killing was justified was unreasonable .
The jury declined to convict the officer of first-degree murder , and he was sentenced to less than seven years .

Amid protests demanding “justice for George,” calls to turn the law-enforcement apparatus on itself are complicated, at a moment when activists are insistently pushing to abolish the police. Photograph by Jelani Rice
I first saw the “Hospital Arraignment” shift listed on my schedule as a rookie prosecutor in Manhattan, in 2004. I soon learned that criminal arraignments routinely took place around a hospital bed, because it was common for a person to be seriously injured during his or her arrest. A judge, prosecutor, defense lawyer, and court reporter would travel in a car to a local hospital, where the person lay handcuffed to the bed, and proceed to conduct the court hearing, stating the crime charged, asking for the defendant’s plea, and sometimes setting bail. My first time, the defendant, a middle-aged African-American man who was arrested for a misdemeanor, was bloodied from head wounds and was moaning in pain. The police claimed, incredibly, that the man had put his own head through the window of a police car. We all knew that police officers’ use of force was common, that they commonly tacked on an accusation of “resisting arrest” to misdemeanor charges in order to justify it, and that the legal system would believe an officer’s account over an arrestee’s claim of excessive force. My questioning of police accounts of arrests quickly led to my having an unfavorable reputation among cops I worked with. I left the job only six months after I started.
George Floyd, of course, did not make it to a hospital arraignment in Minneapolis on May 25th. He was killed by a white officer, Derek Chauvin, in the course of an arrest on suspicion of using a counterfeit twenty-dollar bill to buy cigarettes. Chauvin kneeled on Floyd’s neck for nearly nine minutes while Floyd pleaded, “Please, I can’t breathe.” Floyd’s death, in the light of day, as three other officers looked on or helped restrain him, was captured on video by a teen-age bystander. The widespread demonstrations in response to Floyd’s killing have prompted myriad institutions across the country to denounce the racism that structures the elements of our society, from health care to housing to public education. But demands for justice inevitably return to law and the mechanisms for its enforcement. Calls for accountability commonly drive toward criminal punishment.
At first, protesters expressed outrage that Chauvin had not been immediately arrested. After criminal charges against Chauvin were announced, on May 29th, protesters decried their insufficient severity. The initial top charge was third-degree murder, with a maximum sentence of twenty-five years in prison. That charge indicated that prosecutors believed that Chauvin did not have the intent to kill, but that he perpetrated “an act eminently dangerous to others and evincing a depraved mind, without regard for human life.” Floyd’s family immediately responded, “We want a first-degree-murder charge.” On May 29th, #RaisetheDegree was the No. 1 trending hashtag on Twitter, and one online petition that circulated under that title garnered several million signatures. The Legal Rights Center and the A.C.L.U. of Minnesota also raised concerns about the charge, noting that Minnesota courts have long held that, for third-degree murder, the defendant’s actions must be “eminently dangerous to more than one person,” which did not fit the facts here. The organizations accused the prosecutors of purposely bringing a charge that was doomed to fail, saying it was “inconceivable that experienced, professional Hennepin County prosecutors did not recognize the potential flaws,” and that it “only serves to further undermine community trust” in the prosecution.
On June 1st, responding to complaints from Minnesota legislators, Governor Tim Walz transferred Floyd’s case from the county attorney to the state’s attorney general, Keith Ellison. That day, calling again for a first-degree-murder charge, Floyd’s family disclosed the results of an independent autopsy that they had commissioned, from New York City’s former chief medical examiner and the director of Autopsy and Forensic Services at the University of Michigan. An initial report from the Hennepin County Medical Examiner had provoked further outcry among protesters, by stating that there were “no physical findings that support a diagnosis of traumatic asphyxia or strangulation”; the independent autopsy, however, found that the cause of death was “asphyxia due to compression of the neck and the back.” On June 3rd, Ellison announced that he was adding a second-degree-murder charge to the complaint, attributing the change to his study of the evidence. Asked about the influence of Floyd’s family and of protesters, Ellison insisted, “I did not allow public pressure to impact our decision-making process. I was prepared to withstand whatever calls came.”
The new charge of second-degree murder for Chauvin, under Minnesota law, does not require proof of his intent to kill. Rather, it alleges that Chauvin caused Floyd’s death “while committing or attempting to commit a felony”—in this case, third-degree assault, which is defined as an assault that inflicts “substantial bodily harm.” This type of murder charge is commonly known as “felony murder,” wherein a person who unintentionally causes a death while perpetrating a crime may be punished as harshly as one who intentionally commits murder, on the theory that the punishment strongly deters people from engaging in the underlying conduct. Felony-murder charges are often brought in robberies that accidentally result in death—and they have long been criticized by criminal-law reformers and critics of mass incarceration. It is especially controversial for prosecutors to use an assault as the underlying felony for felony murder, because that means that they may treat any assault that results in death as a murder, effectively undoing the grading scheme for greater and lesser degrees of homicide that legislatures have carefully created. But, unlike that of most other states, Minnesota law allows prosecutors to charge felony murder using assault as the predicate crime.
With respect to Floyd’s killing, one may wonder why the prosecution stopped short of seeking indictment for first-degree murder, which requires an intent to kill and carries a maximum sentence of life imprisonment. After all, Chauvin continued to kneel on Floyd’s neck for an excruciating eight minutes and forty-six seconds while Floyd said, “Please, I can’t breathe,” “Mama,” and “I’m about to die.” He did not let up even as Floyd became unconscious and another officer voiced worry about the position Floyd was held in. It is hard to fathom how Chauvin’s conduct could have been for a purpose other than to kill. But first-degree murder also requires premeditation, which, in Chauvin’s case, was not apparent. Pursuing first-degree murder, in Minnesota, requires a grand-jury indictment, unlike for lesser homicide charges, and, without clear evidence of premeditation, would therefore risk a grand jury’s refusal to indict, fuelling further outrage. It is also possible that, even with an indictment, if a trial jury suspected prosecutorial overreach—in seeking charges higher than can be proved—in response to the protest movement, the jury might look with more skepticism even at the evidence for the lesser homicide charges, which might also ultimately result in acquittal.
At his announcement, on May 31st, that he would be taking over the case, Ellison reminded the public of the need for “a dose of reality.” Prosecuting the police for murder, he said, “is very difficult,” as evidenced by “the cases that have been in front of the public over the last many years.” Grand juries failed to indict the officers who killed Michael Brown, in Ferguson, Missouri, in 2014; Eric Garner, in Staten Island, in 2014; and Tamir Rice, in Cleveland, in 2014. The Department of Justice and Louisiana’s attorney general declined to charge the officers who killed Alton Sterling, in Baton Rouge, in 2016. And, in Hennepin County, the prosecutor did not charge the officers who killed Jamar Clark, in 2016. Six Baltimore officers were indicted for murder, manslaughter, and assault charges for Freddie Gray’s death, in 2015, but none of the cases ended in a conviction, and the Justice Department declined to bring any federal charges. A jury returned an acquittal for manslaughter for the officer who killed Philando Castile, in Minnesota, in 2016. The murder trial of the officer who killed Walter Scott, in South Carolina, ended in a mistrial owing to a hung jury, in 2016, but the officer pleaded guilty, in 2017, to violating Scott’s federal civil rights and was sentenced to twenty years, consistent with second-degree murder. In 2018, a Chicago jury convicted the officer who shot sixteen bullets at seventeen-year-old Laquan McDonald of second-degree murder, determining that the officer’s belief at the time that the killing was justified was unreasonable. The jury declined to convict the officer of first-degree murder, and he was sentenced to less than seven years.
“Every single link in the prosecutorial chain will come under attack as we present this case to a jury or a fact finder,” Ellison said. The most likely point of attack on all of the charges is causation—whether Chauvin’s acts, as brutal as they were, actually caused Floyd’s death. The defense will likely try to create reasonable doubt by highlighting the official autopsy’s conclusion that Floyd was not asphyxiated but, rather, died of “cardiopulmonary arrest while being restrained” by officers. The report identified “no life-threatening injuries,” and emphasized “other significant conditions,” namely heart disease, “fentanyl intoxication,” and “recent methamphetamine use.” It also mentioned that this result “most likely reflects” the effects of COVID-19, for which Floyd had tested positive in April. The fentanyl and methamphetamine in Floyd’s system will also almost certainly lead the defense to claim that Chauvin’s acts were not reckless or negligent, arguing that because Floyd’s behavior indicated that he might be high, Chauvin reasonably believed he was in danger and responded accordingly. Given the private autopsy’s differing conclusions, that Floyd had “no underlying medical problems that caused or contributed to his death,” “was in good health,” and died of “mechanical or traumatic asphyxia,” a war between medical examiners for prosecution and defense will likely be an important feature of a trial.
Protesters also called on prosecutors to bring criminal charges against the other three officers, J. A. Kueng, Thomas Lane, and Tou Thao, who held down Floyd or stood by as Chauvin killed him. In “the interests of justice,” Ellison said, he charged each of the three with “aiding and abetting” the killing. A person who aids and abets a crime—that is, “intentionally aids, advises, hires, counsels, or conspires with or otherwise procures the other to commit the crime”—is an accomplice, just as liable as the person who commits the crime directly. So, if any of the three were convicted of aiding and abetting second-degree murder, for example, he would be punishable according to the same forty-year maximum sentence as Chauvin faces.


newyorker--2020-06-17--How Public Opinion Changes for the Better

Subscribers to The Climate Crisis newsletter received this piece in their in-boxes .
Sign up to receive future installments .
You could feel the Zeitgeist shifting these past days , as culturally powerful parts of our society decided that the future lies with the protesters demanding accountability for America ’ s past and safety from its present authorities .
Top brass at the Pentagon apologized for taking part in Trump ’ s Bible-hoisting photo op .
The N.F.L .
commissioner , Roger Goodell , took to the Internet to say , “ We , the National Football League , condemn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ people.
” And Nascar—long the perfect marriage of corporate branding and unrepentant good-ol ’ -boyism—banned the Confederate flag at its races and events .
Not only that , but Richard Petty—the winningest driver in stock-racing history and now a team owner , who said , in 2017 , that he ’ d fire any driver who protested the National Anthem—let the African-American driver Bubba Wallace repaint his car with Black Lives Matter emblems , for last week ’ s race in Martinsville , Virginia .
Those actions stem , of course , from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Black Lives Matter message resound—polling shows that , in the course of a few weeks , support for the movement spiked by almost twenty percentage points .
Public opinion doesn ’ t usually move in staccato bursts like that .
If you look , say , at polling data about support for interracial marriages , it rises from four per cent around the year I was born , in 1960 , to about ninety per cent now—it ’ s such a slow and steady curve that you ’ d almost guess it reflected @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of old opinions .
Culture usually shifts gradually—painfully gradually for those of us who want change .
But , occasionally , attitudes swing quite suddenly , as if pressure had been silently building up behind a dam until it burst .
That silently building pressure usually takes the form of good organizing ( in this case , superb work by the current generation of civil-rights activists ) , and the breach itself usually comes from events .
The video of George Floyd ’ s death was so stark that it summed up , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ avoid understanding , so much of the country ’ s racial history .
Often , great organizing—say , by labor unions seeking a new contract—is for immediate and tangible actions , and the side with more muscle and unity generally prevails .
The goal of other types of organizing is precisely to shift the Zeitgeist , the prevailing sense of what ’ s normal and natural and obvious .
When that happens , more fundamental change ( reëxamining the role of police in our society , for instance ) can suddenly be on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ guarantee that the right things will happen , and the pressure must be unrelenting , but what was impossible weeks ago now seems , at the least , plausible .
In the climate crisis , each fight against a pipeline or a frack well , against an oil company or a bank that backs it , is important in its own right .
But each also serves as a way to build the pressure that will , eventually , move us psychologically from a world that sees the fossil-fuelled economy stretching out into @ @ @ @ @ @ @ need to change .
There are signs that we ’ re reaching that paradigm shift , both because of powerful organizing ( eight million people in the streets last fall for global climate strikes ) and because environmental events , such as the wildfires in California and Australia , demonstrate our scary reality more plainly all the time .
Around the world , more and more cities and countries are rolling out economic-recovery plans that emphasize climate action , as if that was the most obvious idea .
( It is . )
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ see it in the polling : a string of recent surveys shows that the issue of global warming is Trump ’ s single greatest vulnerability .
And you can sense it in significant corners of the culture , too—corners that pay a lot of attention to marketing and branding and predicting the future .
Lyft ’ s announcement on Wednesday that all of the cars used in its network will be electric by 2030 will not solve the climate crisis .
( Indeed , if it draws people away from the subway , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we really need are electric buses and electric bikes . )
But it ’ s a sign—like Wallace ’ s car circling the Nascar track—that , after years and years of organizing , a new logic is beginning to drive events .
The actress Jane Fonda has devoted much of the past year to climate organizing , convening a weekly series of civil-disobedience actions that she calls Fire Drill Fridays .
They stretched through the winter in Washington , D.C. , and when she went back to California , to film the next @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” the activism relocated with her .
She describes the events in her forthcoming book , “ What Can I Do ?
: My Path from Climate Despair to Action.
” You ’ ve been an activist most of your life .
Does the energy around climate justice and racial justice remind you of the nineteen-sixties , or is it different ?
It feels different now .
The protests are far more diverse .
There are all-white communities in Southern California , for instance , where many hundreds of white people have been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ No one expected that .
Many factors are at play—the work that ’ s been done by Black Lives Matter , SURJ ( Showing Up for Racial Justice ) , and White People 4 Black Lives are some examples .
The election of Trump forced many whites to recognize the degree to which white supremacy was still very much alive in this country .
This was no surprise to black people , but so many whites felt that Obama ’ s Presidency signalled the beginning of the end of that malignancy .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , so intentional , that it woke a lot of people .
.
.
the last straw after Breonna Taylor was shot in her bed , and Ahmaud Arbery was shot while jogging .
Many white people were brutalized by the police in the ensuing protests , getting a taste of what blacks have endured for too long .
I think the young climate strikers who took to the streets by the millions around the world last fall really had an impact on people ’ s awareness of the gravity of the climate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and civil disobedience O.K.
, and showed it was effective .
I think this helped make it O.K .
for people to fill the streets against police brutality now .
Frankly , climate and racial injustice don ’ t seem like two separate causes anymore .
What are the clearest memories in your mind from this year of Fire Drill Fridays ?
There were many , but I remember November 1st , the fourth Fire Drill Friday .
As we gathered to prepare for that rally , it hit me so clearly : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from all over the country to join this growing community , because that ’ s what it was becoming , and put their bodies on the line .
A large percentage of them had never engaged in civil disobedience before , and , from what I saw and what they told me , it was transformative for them .
Annie Leonard , the executive director of Greenpeace U.S.A. , and I were aiming to rouse people who were new to civil disobedience , and that ’ s what was happening , and this @ @ @ @ @ @

Subscribers to The Climate Crisis newsletter received this piece in their in-boxes. Sign up to receive future installments.
You could feel the Zeitgeist shifting these past days, as culturally powerful parts of our society decided that the future lies with the protesters demanding accountability for America’s past and safety from its present authorities. Top brass at the Pentagon apologized for taking part in Trump’s Bible-hoisting photo op. The N.F.L. commissioner, Roger Goodell, took to the Internet to say, “We, the National Football League, condemn racism and the systematic oppression of black people.” And Nascar—long the perfect marriage of corporate branding and unrepentant good-ol’-boyism—banned the Confederate flag at its races and events. Not only that, but Richard Petty—the winningest driver in stock-racing history and now a team owner, who said, in 2017, that he’d fire any driver who protested the National Anthem—let the African-American driver Bubba Wallace repaint his car with Black Lives Matter emblems, for last week’s race in Martinsville, Virginia. Those actions stem, of course, from the success of organizers in making the Black Lives Matter message resound—polling shows that, in the course of a few weeks, support for the movement spiked by almost twenty percentage points.
Public opinion doesn’t usually move in staccato bursts like that. If you look, say, at polling data about support for interracial marriages, it rises from four per cent around the year I was born, in 1960, to about ninety per cent now—it’s such a slow and steady curve that you’d almost guess it reflected the death of old people more than of old opinions. Culture usually shifts gradually—painfully gradually for those of us who want change. But, occasionally, attitudes swing quite suddenly, as if pressure had been silently building up behind a dam until it burst. That silently building pressure usually takes the form of good organizing (in this case, superb work by the current generation of civil-rights activists), and the breach itself usually comes from events. The video of George Floyd’s death was so stark that it summed up, in an iconic way no witness could avoid understanding, so much of the country’s racial history.
Often, great organizing—say, by labor unions seeking a new contract—is for immediate and tangible actions, and the side with more muscle and unity generally prevails. The goal of other types of organizing is precisely to shift the Zeitgeist, the prevailing sense of what’s normal and natural and obvious. When that happens, more fundamental change (reëxamining the role of police in our society, for instance) can suddenly be on the table. There’s no guarantee that the right things will happen, and the pressure must be unrelenting, but what was impossible weeks ago now seems, at the least, plausible. In the climate crisis, each fight against a pipeline or a frack well, against an oil company or a bank that backs it, is important in its own right. But each also serves as a way to build the pressure that will, eventually, move us psychologically from a world that sees the fossil-fuelled economy stretching out into the future to one that understands we need to change.
There are signs that we’re reaching that paradigm shift, both because of powerful organizing (eight million people in the streets last fall for global climate strikes) and because environmental events, such as the wildfires in California and Australia, demonstrate our scary reality more plainly all the time. Around the world, more and more cities and countries are rolling out economic-recovery plans that emphasize climate action, as if that was the most obvious idea. (It is.) Even in this country, you can see it in the polling: a string of recent surveys shows that the issue of global warming is Trump’s single greatest vulnerability. And you can sense it in significant corners of the culture, too—corners that pay a lot of attention to marketing and branding and predicting the future. Lyft’s announcement on Wednesday that all of the cars used in its network will be electric by 2030 will not solve the climate crisis. (Indeed, if it draws people away from the subway, it could make it worse; what we really need are electric buses and electric bikes.) But it’s a sign—like Wallace’s car circling the Nascar track—that, after years and years of organizing, a new logic is beginning to drive events.
Passing the Mic
The actress Jane Fonda has devoted much of the past year to climate organizing, convening a weekly series of civil-disobedience actions that she calls Fire Drill Fridays. They stretched through the winter in Washington, D.C., and when she went back to California, to film the next season of “Grace and Frankie,” the activism relocated with her. She describes the events in her forthcoming book, “What Can I Do?: My Path from Climate Despair to Action.”
You’ve been an activist most of your life. Does the energy around climate justice and racial justice remind you of the nineteen-sixties, or is it different?
It feels different now. The protests are far more diverse. There are all-white communities in Southern California, for instance, where many hundreds of white people have been marching carrying Black Live Matter signs. No one expected that. Many factors are at play—the work that’s been done by Black Lives Matter, SURJ (Showing Up for Racial Justice), and White People 4 Black Lives are some examples. The election of Trump forced many whites to recognize the degree to which white supremacy was still very much alive in this country. This was no surprise to black people, but so many whites felt that Obama’s Presidency signalled the beginning of the end of that malignancy. The murder of George Floyd was so visible, so intentional, that it woke a lot of people . . . the last straw after Breonna Taylor was shot in her bed, and Ahmaud Arbery was shot while jogging. Many white people were brutalized by the police in the ensuing protests, getting a taste of what blacks have endured for too long. I think the young climate strikers who took to the streets by the millions around the world last fall really had an impact on people’s awareness of the gravity of the climate crisis, but also they made protesting and civil disobedience O.K., and showed it was effective. I think this helped make it O.K. for people to fill the streets against police brutality now. Frankly, climate and racial injustice don’t seem like two separate causes anymore.
What are the clearest memories in your mind from this year of Fire Drill Fridays?
There were many, but I remember November 1st, the fourth Fire Drill Friday. As we gathered to prepare for that rally, it hit me so clearly: this is working! People are travelling from all over the country to join this growing community, because that’s what it was becoming, and put their bodies on the line. A large percentage of them had never engaged in civil disobedience before, and, from what I saw and what they told me, it was transformative for them. Annie Leonard, the executive director of Greenpeace U.S.A., and I were aiming to rouse people who were new to civil disobedience, and that’s what was happening, and this must become the new normal.
Another clear memory is December 20th. We were marching to the Hart Senate Building, to do a sit-in. I looked around, and there was the Reverend William Barber II, Ai-jen Poo, Gloria Steinem, Dolores Huerta, and Heather McTeer Toney, all of us marching together, all those leaders of major movements coming together for climate. That felt new.
Some activists say that they can’t be bothered voting this year, because Joe Biden is “just another old-school Dem.” You’ve gone through many elections—does 2020 feel crucial to you?
Never has so much been at stake. Scientists have told us unconditionally that we have ten years to cut fossil-fuel emissions in half before we hit the tipping point, when the collapse of the planet’s ecosystems will be beyond our control. If Joe Biden doesn’t win, it will be almost impossible to accomplish this.
But, even if Biden wins, we will need to fill the streets, make calls, recruit friends and colleagues to make him do the right thing. And, to insure he wins, we need to work like hell and get everyone to vote.
Climate School
An important—and well-documented—new study from Berkeley’s Goldman School of Public Policy quantifies what the plummeting cost of solar and wind power could mean for America. If we adopted policies for a rapid buildout of renewable energy, it could supply ninety per cent of our electricity carbon free by 2035, and that electricity would cost customers less than it costs them today. “Previous studies concluded either we need to wait until 2050 to decarbonize, or the bills will go up if you decarbonize,” Amol Phadke, a co-author of the study, told reporters. “I think we really need to revisit these conclusions, because of the dramatic decline in costs.”


newyorker--2020-06-17--How to Shorten the American Recession

How to Shorten the American Recession

Last month , the unemployment rate recovered slightly , falling to 13.3 per cent after the steepest rise since the Great Depression .
But the U.S.—and much of the world—remain in an economic recession owing to the coronavirus , and a number of benefits are scheduled to expire at the end of July if the federal government does not pass another recovery package .
Even with more aid , the American economy may take years , or even a decade , to recover to the level it was at when the year began .
The Federal Reserve chairman , Jay @ @ @ @ @ @ @ last week that there is no guarantee of a so-called V-shaped recovery , adding , “ My assumption is that there will be a significant chunk , well into the millions , who don ’ t get to go back to their old job , and , in fact , there may not be a job in that industry for them for some time.
” To understand why this recovery may be so long and painful , I recently spoke by phone with Richard Koo , the chief economist of the Nomura Research @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who was previously an economist at the Federal Reserve Bank of New York , is a leading expert on the Japanese economy , and has written extensively on banking crises and the fallout of the Great Recession .
During our conversation , which has been edited for length and clarity , we discussed what the U.S. can learn from Japan ’ s economic stagnation during the nineteen-nineties , how the U.S. government can shorten the recession , and why containing the virus remains the crucial factor in helping to insure a V-shaped recovery @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of any moments in the past , or does it feel sui generis ?
We came out of a very unique period after 2008 .
We had zero interest rates for a long time , and astronomical monetary stimulus , and we still got no inflation .
So that was already a highly unusual world , the world I call a “ balance-sheet recession.
” This was almost coming to an end twelve years after the Lehman crisis .
And then we enter what we call a pandemic recession—it ’ s an outside @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a 9/11 shock .
For the Japanese , we ’ ll call it a 3/11 shock , because March 11th is when the tsunami hit Japan [ in 2011 ] .
And this kind of shock is very different from people having balance-sheet problems , like after the Lehman crisis , because once you have a huge hole in your balance sheet , everybody wants to repair it .
But when everybody tries to repair balance sheets at the same time , you get fallacy-of-composition problems , and the economy really can not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sheet is more or less repaired .
[ A fallacy-of-composition problem is one that occurs when an action that may be correct for an individual or business causes difficulties when it is taken by many individuals or businesses . ]
So that kind of recession takes a long time to get over .
But , in this case , fundamentally , balance sheets are O.K.
, and all the capital stocks are intact , but because of this external shock from the virus , people can not move .
And so if a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ do everything right , and then you bring the number of infections to zero , then we can go back to the original world .
Last month ’ s data in the United States was a little better than people were expecting in terms of unemployment .
But now it seems like there ’ s some concern that any uptick in data will lead to policymakers not taking the steps necessary to continue their recovery programs and their fiscal assistance to the economy .
Is that a consistent problem with the way governments @ @ @ @ @ @ @ really the employment number that was good , or far better than expected , right ?
Other numbers , like unemployment benefits and so forth—they ’ re still pretty large .
What , forty million people applied for unemployment benefits ?
And I don ’ t know how that forty-million number and this latest thirteen-per-cent unemployment rate match .
I ’ m still struggling with it .
One seems too large , and the other one seems too low .
And so maybe the truth is somewhere in between .
But I don @ @ @ @ @ @ @ much about not doing enough .
I think the United States government is fairly well committed to doing whatever is necessary .
I do worry about , for example , the Japanese government and maybe some others .
But , so far , I think the U.S. response , both at the monetary-policy level and the fiscal level , are in the right direction and probably close to the mark .
What is different from what many economists thought earlier was that many economists looked at what happened with the SARS epidemic , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ There was a kind of V-shaped recovery once the SARS problem was removed , and a lot of economists thought that we should be able to see some V-shaped recovery after this coronavirus problem is behind us .
But there ’ s a big difference between the two cases in that , in the SARS case , there was a consensus among the countries affected to wait until you actually get to zero before really reopening and restarting economic activity .
And once you hit the zero number , and people have nothing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , then people will really go back to their original life styles , and the economy will have a V-shaped recovery .
But , in this case , many countries , including the United States , unfortunately , screwed up at the beginning .
So the hope that we ’ re going to bring this virus down to zero will be very difficult to meet .
And many states , and many countries , are opening the economy even before we hit the zero mark .
As long as the number is not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ still be very afraid of taking cruise ships or airplanes and things like that , or going to restaurants .
So I don ’ t think we are going to get the V-shaped recovery .
We might have an initial burst of activities once people are out in the streets again , but then once you get to a certain level , all the remaining other cautious people who are still not going to the restaurant , not going to take cruise ships , will be still there , and I think that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ And , furthermore , the people who were really hurt badly in this episode are the people who ran out of their savings , right ?
Whether you ’ re a business or you ’ re an individual , you run out of your savings , and you really are in pretty bad shape .
Those who have plenty of savings are probably able to overcome this difficulty with only minor inconveniences , but those who ran out of savings or didn ’ t have much savings really suffered .
And what that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ economy is in recovery mode and people begin to have some income again , my guess is that a lot of these companies and individuals will start increasing their savings to make sure that , when the next round comes , they are better prepared .
But if all of these people decide to replenish their savings collectively , they are going to weaken the economy .
And so economic recovery , in this instance , will not be the kind of V-shaped recovery we saw after SARS .

Last month, the unemployment rate recovered slightly, falling to 13.3 per cent after the steepest rise since the Great Depression. But the U.S.—and much of the world—remain in an economic recession owing to the coronavirus, and a number of benefits are scheduled to expire at the end of July if the federal government does not pass another recovery package. Even with more aid, the American economy may take years, or even a decade, to recover to the level it was at when the year began. The Federal Reserve chairman, Jay Powell, said at a news conference last week that there is no guarantee of a so-called V-shaped recovery, adding, “My assumption is that there will be a significant chunk, well into the millions, who don’t get to go back to their old job, and, in fact, there may not be a job in that industry for them for some time.”
To understand why this recovery may be so long and painful, I recently spoke by phone with Richard Koo, the chief economist of the Nomura Research Institute, in Japan. Koo, who was previously an economist at the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, is a leading expert on the Japanese economy, and has written extensively on banking crises and the fallout of the Great Recession. During our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, we discussed what the U.S. can learn from Japan’s economic stagnation during the nineteen-nineties, how the U.S. government can shorten the recession, and why containing the virus remains the crucial factor in helping to insure a V-shaped recovery.
Does this economic period remind you of any moments in the past, or does it feel sui generis?
We came out of a very unique period after 2008. We had zero interest rates for a long time, and astronomical monetary stimulus, and we still got no inflation. So that was already a highly unusual world, the world I call a “balance-sheet recession.” This was almost coming to an end twelve years after the Lehman crisis. And then we enter what we call a pandemic recession—it’s an outside shock.
An outside shock is like a 9/11 shock. For the Japanese, we’ll call it a 3/11 shock, because March 11th is when the tsunami hit Japan [in 2011]. And this kind of shock is very different from people having balance-sheet problems, like after the Lehman crisis, because once you have a huge hole in your balance sheet, everybody wants to repair it. But when everybody tries to repair balance sheets at the same time, you get fallacy-of-composition problems, and the economy really cannot move forward until everyone’s balance sheet is more or less repaired. [A fallacy-of-composition problem is one that occurs when an action that may be correct for an individual or business causes difficulties when it is taken by many individuals or businesses.]
So that kind of recession takes a long time to get over. But, in this case, fundamentally, balance sheets are O.K., and all the capital stocks are intact, but because of this external shock from the virus, people cannot move. And so if a vaccine is found, or somehow we do everything right, and then you bring the number of infections to zero, then we can go back to the original world.
Last month’s data in the United States was a little better than people were expecting in terms of unemployment. But now it seems like there’s some concern that any uptick in data will lead to policymakers not taking the steps necessary to continue their recovery programs and their fiscal assistance to the economy. Is that a consistent problem with the way governments respond to crises?
It’s really the employment number that was good, or far better than expected, right? Other numbers, like unemployment benefits and so forth—they’re still pretty large. What, forty million people applied for unemployment benefits? And I don’t know how that forty-million number and this latest thirteen-per-cent unemployment rate match. I’m still struggling with it. One seems too large, and the other one seems too low. And so maybe the truth is somewhere in between.
But I don’t think we should worry too much about not doing enough. I think the United States government is fairly well committed to doing whatever is necessary. I do worry about, for example, the Japanese government and maybe some others. But, so far, I think the U.S. response, both at the monetary-policy level and the fiscal level, are in the right direction and probably close to the mark.
What is different from what many economists thought earlier was that many economists looked at what happened with the SARS epidemic, which started in China as well. There was a kind of V-shaped recovery once the SARS problem was removed, and a lot of economists thought that we should be able to see some V-shaped recovery after this coronavirus problem is behind us. But there’s a big difference between the two cases in that, in the SARS case, there was a consensus among the countries affected to wait until you actually get to zero before really reopening and restarting economic activity. And once you hit the zero number, and people have nothing to worry about with the virus anymore, then people will really go back to their original life styles, and the economy will have a V-shaped recovery.
But, in this case, many countries, including the United States, unfortunately, screwed up at the beginning. So the hope that we’re going to bring this virus down to zero will be very difficult to meet. And many states, and many countries, are opening the economy even before we hit the zero mark. As long as the number is not zero, a lot of people will still be very afraid of taking cruise ships or airplanes and things like that, or going to restaurants. So I don’t think we are going to get the V-shaped recovery. We might have an initial burst of activities once people are out in the streets again, but then once you get to a certain level, all the remaining other cautious people who are still not going to the restaurant, not going to take cruise ships, will be still there, and I think that will probably slow the economy down.
And, furthermore, the people who were really hurt badly in this episode are the people who ran out of their savings, right? Whether you’re a business or you’re an individual, you run out of your savings, and you really are in pretty bad shape. Those who have plenty of savings are probably able to overcome this difficulty with only minor inconveniences, but those who ran out of savings or didn’t have much savings really suffered. And what that will mean is that, once the economy is in recovery mode and people begin to have some income again, my guess is that a lot of these companies and individuals will start increasing their savings to make sure that, when the next round comes, they are better prepared. But if all of these people decide to replenish their savings collectively, they are going to weaken the economy. And so economic recovery, in this instance, will not be the kind of V-shaped recovery we saw after SARS.
Do you think, then, in terms of the shape of the recovery curve, it will be more like the balance-sheet issues you were talking about, post-2008, even though the cause was different? You said it was getting better after nearly twelve years, and so obviously you didn’t have a V-shaped recovery there, either.
Yes. Once people are let out fully from the lockdown, that part of the economic recovery will look like a V, and then I think it’s going to have a much flatter curve after the initial couple of weeks or a month. And if the private sector really wants to replenish their savings collectively, then it is going to look like a balance-sheet recession, in that during the balance-sheet recession people are all trying to pay down debt. This time, they’re all trying to increase savings. The macroeconomic effect of paying down debt and increasing savings are basically the same. And so that would mean lower interest rates, lower inflation rates and, of course, slow economic growth.