csmonitor--2020-04-30--Immigrants deliver food and hope to others struggling in crisis

Every afternoon , Sandra Pérez and Francisco Ramírez go over their list of fellow New Yorkers who need help because of the coronavirus pandemic .
Some are unwell .
Others lost jobs , but have children to feed .
Others are elderly or disabled .
All are immigrants , like them .
Then , the friends , both originally from Mexico , stock up on rice , beans , vegetables , cereal , soups , and fruit at an East Harlem supermarket , and make deliveries by car to as many as 15 families a day .
“ I feel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , emotionally , then we can help others , '' said Mr. Ramírez , a day laborer who used to do construction jobs , but now finds work scarce because of the crisis .
Ms. Pérez and Mr. Ramírez are among a growing number of people who have taken it upon themselves to help an immigrant community that has been hard hit by the pandemic , but often lives in the shadows of government and not-for-profit aide systems because of barriers such as language and immigration status .
These aide networks can be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ media fundraising campaigns .
In Stamford , Connecticut , Erika Zamora has been distributing food from the restaurant she co-owns even after it was forced to close .
“ Many people here live check by check .
If you miss a check you are in trouble , '' said Ms. Zamora , herself a Mexican immigrant .
She plans to start calling people for donations .
In Delaware , Spanish-language radio station La ZMX manager Vladimir Rosales has been receiving calls from Guatemalan , Mexican , Salvadoran , Honduran , and other immigrants @ @ @ @ @ @ @ soliciting donations from stores in Wilmington and Seaford and having families pick up the bags of groceries from the station .
“ It is very sad .
People call me in tears , ” he said .
The Migration Policy Institute found that 20 % of the U.S. workers in vulnerable industries facing layoffs are immigrants , even though they only make up 17 % of the civilian workforce .
According to a Pew Research Center study conducted in March , 49 % of Hispanics surveyed say they or someone in their household @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a job – or both – because of the COVID-19 outbreak , compared with 29 % of white and 36 % of black people .
The death toll from the coronavirus has also been disproportionately high in Black and Hispanic communities in New York City .
Blacks have suffered roughly double the fatality rate of whites during the epidemic , according to city health data .
The fatality rate for Hispanics has been only slightly better .
Ms. Pérez said she felt compelled to begin offering volunteer help after seeing messages needy members @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Facebook .
Mr. Ramírez started his own Facebook page where people could share information .
Ms. Pérez bought food with her own money at first , but she and Mr. Ramírez now pay for the groceries with donated money .
People they deliver to tell them about others going hungry .
Phone numbers get passed along and chain develops : Ms. Pérez says she gets about 10 to 15 phone calls or texts per day from people seeking help .
“ We want to focus on the most vulnerable ones , ” said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ works part-time for the city .
Ms. Pérez and Mr. Ramírez spend a daily average of between $ 100 and $ 150 at the supermarket .
There are days that Peruvian and Mexican restaurants donate food and the friends just distribute those boxes .
They raise the money through the Facebook page and a growing list of friends .
Raquel Barrera , a Mexican single mother who is sick in the Bronx , got a food delivery from Ms. Pérez and Mr. Ramírez last week .
Ms. Barrera lives with her mother , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and a grandchild in a two-bedroom apartment .
“ The food they brought was a blessing because we were able to feed the kids for several days , ” said Ms. Barrera , who lost her job cleaning horse stables at a Chester , New York , ranch , about an hour from her home .
Most green-card holders can benefit from unemployment insurance or from the economic stimulus package recently approved by Congress .
Some immigrants on a temporary work permit , like those applying for asylum , can also get @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Immigrants without social security numbers , however , are unable to access any of these options .
New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio recently announced a partnership with Open Society Foundations to provide emergency relief to immigrant families , regardless of immigration status .
In California , Gov .
Gavin Newsom announced that his state will give cash to immigrants living in the country illegally who are hurt by the coronavirus , offering $ 500 apiece to 150,000 adults .
Filling in the gaps are volunteers like Myrna Lazcano , who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ offices thanks to the shutdown .
The Mexican immigrant , her husband , and two daughters live off their savings , but still Ms. Lazcano delivers food to others in her East Harlem neighborhood bought with money from local churches , activists , and acquaintances .
“ By helping the community like this I feel that we are lifting the weight of this crisis , ” she said .
“ People smile when they see the bags with food .
I call them canisters of hope.
” This story was reported by The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : As a public service , the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage .
It ’ s free .

Every afternoon, Sandra Pérez and Francisco Ramírez go over their list of fellow New Yorkers who need help because of the coronavirus pandemic. Some are unwell. Others lost jobs, but have children to feed. Others are elderly or disabled. All are immigrants, like them.
Then, the friends, both originally from Mexico, stock up on rice, beans, vegetables, cereal, soups, and fruit at an East Harlem supermarket, and make deliveries by car to as many as 15 families a day.
“I feel that if we are well, physically, emotionally, then we can help others," said Mr. Ramírez, a day laborer who used to do construction jobs, but now finds work scarce because of the crisis.
Ms. Pérez and Mr. Ramírez are among a growing number of people who have taken it upon themselves to help an immigrant community that has been hard hit by the pandemic, but often lives in the shadows of government and not-for-profit aide systems because of barriers such as language and immigration status.
These aide networks can be informal and operate on word-of-mouth and social media fundraising campaigns.
In Stamford, Connecticut, Erika Zamora has been distributing food from the restaurant she co-owns even after it was forced to close.
“Many people here live check by check. If you miss a check you are in trouble," said Ms. Zamora, herself a Mexican immigrant. She plans to start calling people for donations.
In Delaware, Spanish-language radio station La ZMX manager Vladimir Rosales has been receiving calls from Guatemalan, Mexican, Salvadoran, Honduran, and other immigrants asking for food. He responded by soliciting donations from stores in Wilmington and Seaford and having families pick up the bags of groceries from the station.
“It is very sad. People call me in tears,” he said.
The Migration Policy Institute found that 20% of the U.S. workers in vulnerable industries facing layoffs are immigrants, even though they only make up 17% of the civilian workforce.
According to a Pew Research Center study conducted in March, 49% of Hispanics surveyed say they or someone in their household has taken a pay cut or lost a job – or both – because of the COVID-19 outbreak, compared with 29% of white and 36% of black people.
The death toll from the coronavirus has also been disproportionately high in Black and Hispanic communities in New York City. Blacks have suffered roughly double the fatality rate of whites during the epidemic, according to city health data. The fatality rate for Hispanics has been only slightly better.
Ms. Pérez said she felt compelled to begin offering volunteer help after seeing messages needy members of the Mexican community were posting on Facebook. Mr. Ramírez started his own Facebook page where people could share information. Ms. Pérez bought food with her own money at first, but she and Mr. Ramírez now pay for the groceries with donated money.
People they deliver to tell them about others going hungry. Phone numbers get passed along and chain develops: Ms. Pérez says she gets about 10 to 15 phone calls or texts per day from people seeking help.
“We want to focus on the most vulnerable ones,” said Ms. Pérez, a single mother who works part-time for the city.
Ms. Pérez and Mr. Ramírez spend a daily average of between $100 and $150 at the supermarket. There are days that Peruvian and Mexican restaurants donate food and the friends just distribute those boxes. They raise the money through the Facebook page and a growing list of friends.
Raquel Barrera, a Mexican single mother who is sick in the Bronx, got a food delivery from Ms. Pérez and Mr. Ramírez last week.
Ms. Barrera lives with her mother, daughter, two nieces, a sister, and a grandchild in a two-bedroom apartment.
“The food they brought was a blessing because we were able to feed the kids for several days,” said Ms. Barrera, who lost her job cleaning horse stables at a Chester, New York, ranch, about an hour from her home.
Most green-card holders can benefit from unemployment insurance or from the economic stimulus package recently approved by Congress. Some immigrants on a temporary work permit, like those applying for asylum, can also get unemployment insurance and the new relief checks.
Immigrants without social security numbers, however, are unable to access any of these options. New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio recently announced a partnership with Open Society Foundations to provide emergency relief to immigrant families, regardless of immigration status.
In California, Gov. Gavin Newsom announced that his state will give cash to immigrants living in the country illegally who are hurt by the coronavirus, offering $500 apiece to 150,000 adults.
Filling in the gaps are volunteers like Myrna Lazcano, who lost her on job cleaning homes and offices thanks to the shutdown.
The Mexican immigrant, her husband, and two daughters live off their savings, but still Ms. Lazcano delivers food to others in her East Harlem neighborhood bought with money from local churches, activists, and acquaintances.
“By helping the community like this I feel that we are lifting the weight of this crisis,” she said. “People smile when they see the bags with food. I call them canisters of hope.”
Get stories that
empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
This story was reported by The Associated Press.
Editor’s note: As a public service, the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage. It’s free.


csmonitor--2020-04-08--The web’s a threat to democracy? Think again, Taiwan says.

“ Our democracy is very young ” and agile , says Ms. Tang .
“ We don ’ t have hundreds of years of proud tradition , ” she laughs .
“ We change very quickly , adapt very quickly.
” Taiwan ’ s ability to make technology invigorate democracy , not undermine it , holds lessons for other countries , digital experts say .
Ms. Tang ’ s ministry , now focused on digital issues , is leading a charge to strengthen the island ’ s democracy with technology – harnessing digital tools to foster public engagement , seek @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the environment , to national security , to the new coronavirus .
An “ e-mask ordering system ” and online mask map are part of a system that guarantees three masks per week for each of Taiwan ’ s 23 million citizens , while allowing it to donate millions more abroad .
And she ’ s also a minister in the Taiwanese Cabinet – the youngest-ever appointed without a portfolio , and the nation ’ s first transgender minister .
Audrey Tang has worn a lot of hats .
As a gifted @ @ @ @ @ @ @ software programmer , and founded her own company .
She ’ s been a Silicon Valley worker and a “ hacktivist.
” She ’ s a Taiwanese millennial : a technically minded generation , with a strong sense of Taiwanese identity , and the first in decades to be able to express themselves freely .
Audrey Tang moves gracefully through a Taipei convenience store , collecting her pre-ordered face mask .
“ Thank you , ” she says with a Buddha-like smile , bowing slightly as she receives the mask from a uniformed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ than a minute .
The mask distribution system demonstrated by Ms. Tang , Taiwan ’ s digital minister , guarantees three masks per week for each of Taiwan ’ s 23 million citizens .
Engineers with Ms. Tang ’ s ministry developed an online app – “ the e-mask ordering system ” – preventing panic and long lines at stores , while boosting trust in the government response .
In days , Ms. Tang also created a “ mask information platform ” displaying scores of real-time maps detailing the mask supply at pharmacies @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just one example of how the island nation of Taiwan , with wizard-like efficiency , has so far pulled off one of the world ’ s most striking coronavirus success stories .
Located just 80 miles off the coast of mainland China , Taiwan faced early exposure to the virus : Hundreds of thousands of its citizens work in China , and millions of Chinese visit the island each year .
But Taiwan so far has had five deaths and fewer than 400 cases .
Yet the significance of this campaign goes far @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It is further evidence of how Taiwan ’ s advances in digital self-governance and civic technology are strengthening its democratic system , digital experts and officials say .
The constructive engagement of the public in bottom-up governance has led to concrete advances in areas ranging from the environment to transportation and national security .
To be sure , 21st -century technologies such as social media have intensified polarization and anger , weakening liberal democracies .
But Taiwan has figured out how to make technology invigorate democracy , not undermine it , they say @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” and agile , says Ms. Tang .
“ We don ’ t have hundreds of years of proud tradition , ” she laughs .
“ We change very quickly , adapt very quickly.
” Taiwan has emerged as a cutting-edge model – a political laboratory of sorts – for using technology to improve democratic governance .
It ’ s an example other countries are eager to learn from , from New Zealand to Italy to the United States .
One key element of Taiwan ’ s success is its vibrant tech culture @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as the island confronted the potentially disastrous outbreak of coronavirus just offshore , in China .
Taiwan ’ s “ remarkable ... culture of civic tech participation ” saw software engineers start spontaneously building online tools to combat the virus without waiting for a government go-ahead , says E. Glen Weyl , founder and chairman of the RadicalxChange Foundation , a nonprofit focused on improving democratic systems and market economies .
“ As soon as people got concerned , it didn ’ t just get channeled into panic .
...
They just built @ @ @ @ @ @ @ face mask maps , says Dr. Weyl , who is co-chair of Harvard University ’ s Edmond J. Safra Center for Ethics ’ COVID-19 Rapid Response committee .
“ They went to the tools instead of raiding their local stores.
” In her bright , airy office at downtown Taipei ’ s Social Innovation Lab in January , Digital Minister Tang , wearing a flowing , dropped-shoulder jacket , is about to launch this year ’ s Presidential Hackathon .
Drawing on Taiwan ’ s hacker culture , the event is like a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to produce creative solutions to priority problems .
Most strikingly , the competition has binding results : Winning teams are guaranteed their projects will be put on the national policy agenda , with a budget .
In another display of radical openness , Ms. Tang welcomes members of the public to drop by and trade ideas with her every Wednesday at the lab , a one-stop hub for government services and social entrepreneurs , built in a former Air Force headquarters .
Such scenes would have been unthinkable in Taiwan just a generation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ under a martial law regime imposed by Chiang Kai-shek ’ s Nationalist government in 1949 and not lifted until 1987 .
Since then , though , Taiwan ’ s democracy has grown up , evolving along with the rise of personal computers , press freedom , the internet , and social media .
Taiwan held its first presidential election in 1996 , the year that the World Wide Web became popular .
In successive elections , candidates “ imagined their administration in tandem with ... new digital advancements , ” says Ms. Tang @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s millennial generation , one that is technically minded , with a strong sense of Taiwanese identity , and the first in decades to be able to express themselves freely .
A gifted , largely self-taught polymath , she gravitated to computers early .
As a teenager , she won recognition as a talented free software programmer , starting her own company at 16 and working in Silicon Valley .
Then politics called .
In March 2014 , Ms. Tang joined Taiwan ’ s student-led “ sunflower ” protest movement , which @ @ @ @ @ @ @ national legislature to oppose a pending free trade agreement with China .
Students argued the accord would allow Beijing to gain control of strategic sectors of Taiwan ’ s economy , and demanded an open debate over the agreement , which the government classified as internal .
Ms. Tang and other “ hacktivists ” – tech-savvy activists who design their own solutions to government issues – set up communications and transmitted the debate to millions of people .
The movement won broad public support , helping prompt a change in government in 2016 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Protests morphed into sustained participation , as “ hactivists ” joined the government .
President Tsai ’ s administration recruited dozens of young social entrepreneurs and innovators to serve as “ reverse mentors ” for older ministers , and to broaden public engagement .
Ms. Tang became Taiwan ’ s youngest-ever minister without portfolio , focused on digital governance .
She is also Taiwan ’ s first transgender minister .
A self-described “ conservative anarchist , ” Ms. Tang rejects a top-down approach that assumes the government has all the answers , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ facilitate the marriage of good ideas and execution .
“ She has a tremendous faith in the capacity of people , ” says Dr. Weyl , who has worked with Ms. Tang on several civic technology projects and serves with her on the board of RadicalxChange .
Brilliant and empathetic , she inspires people to action , he says , adding , “ Audrey is the most impressive person I have ever met.
” Along Taiwan ’ s southwestern coast , streams flow through mango orchards and rice paddies toward the sea , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ though , a cheap , solar-powered device called a “ water box ” will proliferate along Taiwan ’ s waterways , measuring pollutants .
The data will be recorded on a ledger protected by blockchain technology .
The water boxes could prove revolutionary in allowing Taiwan ’ s farmers , citizens , and industrial plants to detect and stop sources of water pollution , Ms. Tang says .
The government will sanction polluters by cutting their electricity and water supply .
New Zealand has sent representatives to study the initiative for possible use @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a team from the 2019 Presidential Hackathon – is just one of many examples of the creative power of citizens unleashed by Taiwan ’ s digital democracy .
Citizens help select the projects on Taiwan ’ s government-run “ Join ” e-democracy platform , which has so far hosted more than 10 million unique visitors , using a sophisticated system called quadratic voting .
Each person has 99 points to award to their favorite projects based on their preferences , resulting in a more “ fair , balanced , and ... pro-social ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s choices , Ms. Tang says .
“ Most people feel they have won after they see the tallying , instead of half the people feeling that they have lost , ” she explains .
Moreover , anyone can launch an e-petition on the Join platform , and once it reaches 5,000 signatures , the relevant ministries must respond in public .
In this way , Taiwan ’ s government invites change from the inside out , through transparency , open data , and involvement of the public in solving national problems @ @ @ @ @ @ @ civil servants preferring anonymity are real , Ms. Tang says , but President Tsai ’ s commitment to act on the grassroots projects helps overcome them .
From the outside in , meanwhile , Taiwan ’ s civic technology community takes the initiative to improve and demystify government , and organize debates on key issues .
A movement called g0v , or “ gov-zero ” – made up of coders , NGOs , and civil servants – clones government websites and builds better versions , which the government often adopts .
It also @ @ @ @ @ @ @ facilitated debate on dozens of heated issues , from Uber regulation to online liquor sales – often shaping government policy .
vTaiwan uses a tool created by the Seattle-based nonprofit Pol.is that applies machine learning to help large groups achieve consensus through civil debate .
A key feature keeping the debate constructive is that everyone must offer ideas by posting comments .
Others can click “ agree ” “ disagree ” or “ pass ” on these ideas , but there is no “ reply ” function – a practice that invites trolling @ @ @ @ @ @ @ creates an interactive map grouping people according to viewpoints and showing areas of agreement .
Taiwan is “ an incredible petri dish for democratic practices , ” says Colin Megill , CEO and co-founder of Pol.is .
The nation ’ s advances are spreading overseas , with Italy setting up its own g0v program , for example .
Taiwan ’ s virtuous circle of public engagement and government action builds trust , which fuels more enthusiastic participation .
The work of consensus-building also inoculates Taiwan against political tribalism and nationalist populism , Ms. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are after all the same polity , ” she says .
Taiwan ’ s digital democracy activists have often found themselves coming to the island ’ s defense .
In recent years , they ’ ve developed instant fact-checking tools that have helped fend off an onslaught of 30 million monthly cyberattacks – much of it disinformation from mainland China , which considers Taiwan part of its territory .
Most recently with the coronavirus pandemic , Taiwan ’ s “ hacktivists ” figured out how to help track cases .
After Taiwan ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the Diamond Princess cruise ship , for example , they quickly built a location history tool that allowed people to compare their whereabouts with those of confirmed cases , while also protecting their privacy .
Such pinpoint tools have allowed Taiwan to minimize its outbreak without shutting down the economy .
Taiwan ’ s use of technology to enlist its citizenry in collaborative problem-solving also appears to have helped protect the island from polarization , populist movements , and political gridlock .
“ All of the major things that other democracies have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ avoided , and COVID is just the most extreme example of this , ” says Dr. Weyl .
Learning from Taiwan , he says , could “ help save liberal democracy.
” Ms. Tang describes Taiwan as “ just part of this global movement to try to improve democracy ’ s relevance.
” “ As we say , Taiwan can help , ” she stressed , quoting her government ’ s slogan , in an appearance in Washington , D.C. , last month .
Help indeed : Taiwan donated 2 million surgical masks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ expected this week .

“Our democracy is very young” and agile, says Ms. Tang. “We don’t have hundreds of years of proud tradition,” she laughs. “We change very quickly, adapt very quickly.”
Taiwan’s ability to make technology invigorate democracy, not undermine it, holds lessons for other countries, digital experts say.
Ms. Tang’s ministry, now focused on digital issues, is leading a charge to strengthen the island’s democracy with technology – harnessing digital tools to foster public engagement, seek consensus, and seek solutions in everything from the environment, to national security, to the new coronavirus. An “e-mask ordering system” and online mask map are part of a system that guarantees three masks per week for each of Taiwan’s 23 million citizens, while allowing it to donate millions more abroad.
Technology and democracy have had a fraught relationship lately, with social media blamed for polarizing and coarsening politics. But Taiwan may point to another path: harnessing the web to foster consensus, not discord.
And she’s also a minister in the Taiwanese Cabinet – the youngest-ever appointed without a portfolio, and the nation’s first transgender minister.
Audrey Tang has worn a lot of hats. As a gifted teenager, she won recognition as a software programmer, and founded her own company. She’s been a Silicon Valley worker and a “hacktivist.” She’s a Taiwanese millennial: a technically minded generation, with a strong sense of Taiwanese identity, and the first in decades to be able to express themselves freely.
Audrey Tang moves gracefully through a Taipei convenience store, collecting her pre-ordered face mask. “Thank you,” she says with a Buddha-like smile, bowing slightly as she receives the mask from a uniformed store clerk. It all takes less than a minute.
The mask distribution system demonstrated by Ms. Tang, Taiwan’s digital minister, guarantees three masks per week for each of Taiwan’s 23 million citizens. Engineers with Ms. Tang’s ministry developed an online app – “the e-mask ordering system” – preventing panic and long lines at stores, while boosting trust in the government response. In days, Ms. Tang also created a “mask information platform” displaying scores of real-time maps detailing the mask supply at pharmacies across the island.
These innovations mark just one example of how the island nation of Taiwan, with wizard-like efficiency, has so far pulled off one of the world’s most striking coronavirus success stories. Located just 80 miles off the coast of mainland China, Taiwan faced early exposure to the virus: Hundreds of thousands of its citizens work in China, and millions of Chinese visit the island each year. But Taiwan so far has had five deaths and fewer than 400 cases.
Why We Wrote This Technology and democracy have had a fraught relationship lately, with social media blamed for polarizing and coarsening politics. But Taiwan may point to another path: harnessing the web to foster consensus, not discord.
Yet the significance of this campaign goes far beyond the current public health crisis. It is further evidence of how Taiwan’s advances in digital self-governance and civic technology are strengthening its democratic system, digital experts and officials say.
The constructive engagement of the public in bottom-up governance has led to concrete advances in areas ranging from the environment to transportation and national security.
To be sure, 21st -century technologies such as social media have intensified polarization and anger, weakening liberal democracies. But Taiwan has figured out how to make technology invigorate democracy, not undermine it, they say.
“Our democracy is very young” and agile, says Ms. Tang. “We don’t have hundreds of years of proud tradition,” she laughs. “We change very quickly, adapt very quickly.”
Taiwan has emerged as a cutting-edge model – a political laboratory of sorts – for using technology to improve democratic governance. It’s an example other countries are eager to learn from, from New Zealand to Italy to the United States.
One key element of Taiwan’s success is its vibrant tech culture, which sprang into action this winter as the island confronted the potentially disastrous outbreak of coronavirus just offshore, in China.
Taiwan’s “remarkable ... culture of civic tech participation” saw software engineers start spontaneously building online tools to combat the virus without waiting for a government go-ahead, says E. Glen Weyl, founder and chairman of the RadicalxChange Foundation, a nonprofit focused on improving democratic systems and market economies.
“As soon as people got concerned, it didn’t just get channeled into panic. ... They just built the tools,” such as the face mask maps, says Dr. Weyl, who is co-chair of Harvard University’s Edmond J. Safra Center for Ethics’ COVID-19 Rapid Response committee. “They went to the tools instead of raiding their local stores.”
Chiang Ying-ying/AP View caption Hide caption Pedestrians wear face masks to protect against the spread of the coronavirus on the streets of Taipei, Taiwan, March 31, 2020. Digital tools have helped Taiwan's government distribute masks.
A new generation
In her bright, airy office at downtown Taipei’s Social Innovation Lab in January, Digital Minister Tang, wearing a flowing, dropped-shoulder jacket, is about to launch this year’s Presidential Hackathon.
Drawing on Taiwan’s hacker culture, the event is like a highly transparent national brainstorming and data-crunching exercise to produce creative solutions to priority problems. Most strikingly, the competition has binding results: Winning teams are guaranteed their projects will be put on the national policy agenda, with a budget.
In another display of radical openness, Ms. Tang welcomes members of the public to drop by and trade ideas with her every Wednesday at the lab, a one-stop hub for government services and social entrepreneurs, built in a former Air Force headquarters.
Such scenes would have been unthinkable in Taiwan just a generation ago, when the island was still under a martial law regime imposed by Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist government in 1949 and not lifted until 1987. Since then, though, Taiwan’s democracy has grown up, evolving along with the rise of personal computers, press freedom, the internet, and social media. Taiwan held its first presidential election in 1996, the year that the World Wide Web became popular. In successive elections, candidates “imagined their administration in tandem with ... new digital advancements,” says Ms. Tang.
Ms. Tang is representative of Taiwan’s millennial generation, one that is technically minded, with a strong sense of Taiwanese identity, and the first in decades to be able to express themselves freely. A gifted, largely self-taught polymath, she gravitated to computers early. As a teenager, she won recognition as a talented free software programmer, starting her own company at 16 and working in Silicon Valley.
Then politics called. In March 2014, Ms. Tang joined Taiwan’s student-led “sunflower” protest movement, which for three weeks seized control of the national legislature to oppose a pending free trade agreement with China. Students argued the accord would allow Beijing to gain control of strategic sectors of Taiwan’s economy, and demanded an open debate over the agreement, which the government classified as internal. Ms. Tang and other “hacktivists” – tech-savvy activists who design their own solutions to government issues – set up communications and transmitted the debate to millions of people.
The movement won broad public support, helping prompt a change in government in 2016 with the election of President Tsai Ing-wen. Protests morphed into sustained participation, as “hactivists” joined the government. President Tsai’s administration recruited dozens of young social entrepreneurs and innovators to serve as “reverse mentors” for older ministers, and to broaden public engagement. Ms. Tang became Taiwan’s youngest-ever minister without portfolio, focused on digital governance. She is also Taiwan’s first transgender minister.
A self-described “conservative anarchist,” Ms. Tang rejects a top-down approach that assumes the government has all the answers, saying her job as minister is to facilitate the marriage of good ideas and execution. “She has a tremendous faith in the capacity of people,” says Dr. Weyl, who has worked with Ms. Tang on several civic technology projects and serves with her on the board of RadicalxChange. Brilliant and empathetic, she inspires people to action, he says, adding, “Audrey is the most impressive person I have ever met.”
Forging consensus
Along Taiwan’s southwestern coast, streams flow through mango orchards and rice paddies toward the sea, some carrying unwanted pollutants. Soon, though, a cheap, solar-powered device called a “water box” will proliferate along Taiwan’s waterways, measuring pollutants. The data will be recorded on a ledger protected by blockchain technology.
The water boxes could prove revolutionary in allowing Taiwan’s farmers, citizens, and industrial plants to detect and stop sources of water pollution, Ms. Tang says. The government will sanction polluters by cutting their electricity and water supply. New Zealand has sent representatives to study the initiative for possible use.
The innovative device – designed by a team from the 2019 Presidential Hackathon – is just one of many examples of the creative power of citizens unleashed by Taiwan’s digital democracy.
Citizens help select the projects on Taiwan’s government-run “Join” e-democracy platform, which has so far hosted more than 10 million unique visitors, using a sophisticated system called quadratic voting. Each person has 99 points to award to their favorite projects based on their preferences, resulting in a more “fair, balanced, and ... pro-social” outcome because it more fully captures people’s choices, Ms. Tang says.
“Most people feel they have won after they see the tallying, instead of half the people feeling that they have lost,” she explains. Moreover, anyone can launch an e-petition on the Join platform, and once it reaches 5,000 signatures, the relevant ministries must respond in public.
In this way, Taiwan’s government invites change from the inside out, through transparency, open data, and involvement of the public in solving national problems. Challenges such as bureaucratic resistance and civil servants preferring anonymity are real, Ms. Tang says, but President Tsai’s commitment to act on the grassroots projects helps overcome them.
From the outside in, meanwhile, Taiwan’s civic technology community takes the initiative to improve and demystify government, and organize debates on key issues. A movement called g0v, or “gov-zero” – made up of coders, NGOs, and civil servants – clones government websites and builds better versions, which the government often adopts. It also runs a forum called vTaiwan that has facilitated debate on dozens of heated issues, from Uber regulation to online liquor sales – often shaping government policy.
vTaiwan uses a tool created by the Seattle-based nonprofit Pol.is that applies machine learning to help large groups achieve consensus through civil debate. A key feature keeping the debate constructive is that everyone must offer ideas by posting comments. Others can click “agree” “disagree” or “pass” on these ideas, but there is no “reply” function – a practice that invites trolling. As the debate unfolds, Pol.is creates an interactive map grouping people according to viewpoints and showing areas of agreement.
Taiwan is “an incredible petri dish for democratic practices,” says Colin Megill, CEO and co-founder of Pol.is. The nation’s advances are spreading overseas, with Italy setting up its own g0v program, for example.
Taiwan’s virtuous circle of public engagement and government action builds trust, which fuels more enthusiastic participation. The work of consensus-building also inoculates Taiwan against political tribalism and nationalist populism, Ms. Tang stresses. People “feel they are after all the same polity,” she says.
Masks and more
Taiwan’s digital democracy activists have often found themselves coming to the island’s defense.
In recent years, they’ve developed instant fact-checking tools that have helped fend off an onslaught of 30 million monthly cyberattacks – much of it disinformation from mainland China, which considers Taiwan part of its territory.
Most recently with the coronavirus pandemic, Taiwan’s “hacktivists” figured out how to help track cases. After Taiwan’s government released locations visited by travelers on the Diamond Princess cruise ship, for example, they quickly built a location history tool that allowed people to compare their whereabouts with those of confirmed cases, while also protecting their privacy.
Such pinpoint tools have allowed Taiwan to minimize its outbreak without shutting down the economy.
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Taiwan’s use of technology to enlist its citizenry in collaborative problem-solving also appears to have helped protect the island from polarization, populist movements, and political gridlock. “All of the major things that other democracies have been struggling with, somehow Taiwan has avoided, and COVID is just the most extreme example of this,” says Dr. Weyl. Learning from Taiwan, he says, could “help save liberal democracy.”
Ms. Tang describes Taiwan as “just part of this global movement to try to improve democracy’s relevance.” “As we say, Taiwan can help,” she stressed, quoting her government’s slogan, in an appearance in Washington, D.C., last month. Help indeed: Taiwan donated 2 million surgical masks to the United States, with delivery expected this week.


csmonitor--2020-03-27--The other first responders: local journalists

“ I have long believed that the No .
1 job of the press in this country is to regain the trust of the American people , ” says Les Zaitz , an award-winning journalist .
“ If we make it through this , this makes us even more solidly a part of the community than we ’ ve ever been before.
” At a time that has exposed the dangers of misinformation , local journalism is getting an infusion of goodwill .
But amid a sudden dearth of advertising and event revenue , many outlets have been forced to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reduce publishing schedules , or shut down .
If there is an upside , the same crisis that is sorely testing their capacity and resources is also underscoring the value of the services they provide .
And it could help restore public faith in media .
Shortly after they started working at home due to the coronavirus , an earthquake hit , rendering their offices uninhabitable .
“ That ’ s when our work is so important – to make sure that people have good reliable sources of information so that they can @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” says editor Jennifer Napier-Pearce .
For the Salt Lake Tribune staff , the last couple of weeks have been earth-shattering .
In the heady days of anti-Vietnam War protests , the burgeoning women ’ s movement , and Richard Nixon ’ s sweep of 49 states in his 1972 reelection , Jeff vonKaenel went home to sell Fuller brushes .
His future wife , Deborah Redmond , lived in her car .
The idea was to save up enough so they could afford to work for the new alternative weekly in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ got the local district attorney indicted , and brought a new raft of people to City Council through their endorsements .
In 46 years of publishing alt weeklies , Mr. vonKaenel and his wife have never missed a single issue .
When the coronavirus shut down local businesses , advertising suddenly dried up for their News & Review papers in Reno , Nevada ; Sacramento ; and Chico , California .
They had already mortgaged their house earlier this year to keep things going , so their reserves were basically gone .
And @ @ @ @ @ @ @ much as sixfold that of traditional papers in the same cities and readership far beyond that , they had to shut down – at least temporarily .
[ Editor ’ s note : As a public service , all our coronavirus coverage is free .
No paywall . ]
“ We started the paper with no money , so we ’ re good at figuring out how to do things with little resources , ” says Mr. vonKaenel , who is reaching out to various organizations in hopes of pivoting to a new @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reader support , such as the $ 100 check that a reader slipped under the Chico News & Review ’ s door with a handwritten note begging them to stay online .
Still , the publisher says , “ I don ’ t think it ’ s going to be easy to have a phoenix moment when there ’ s massive unemployment.
” At a time of crisis that has exposed deep deficits of trust in American democracy and the dangers of misinformation , local journalism is getting an infusion of goodwill – @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it ’ s often not enough to make up for the sudden dearth of advertising and event revenue .
Many outlets have been forced to lay off employees , cut pay , reduce publishing schedules , or shut down altogether .
If there ’ s an upside for local journalism , however , it ’ s that the same crisis that is sorely testing their capacity and resources is also underscoring the value of the services they provide , both inside and outside the newsroom .
So even as the crisis exacerbates existing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ new models for sustainable journalism that have shown promising results in recent years .
( See sidebar , below . )
“ I am worried that [ the crisis ] could wipe out all of that progress .
But I think there is also a hopeful sign , which is that the philanthropic sector is seeing that trustworthy local news is essential to a healthy community ” – quite literally , says Steven Waldman , co-founder of Report for America , which deploys young journalists to local outlets around the country .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in how philanthropy sees local media , then that would be a long-term positive development.
” The current crisis could also help restore public faith in media , which has suffered amid deepening political polarization .
“ I have long believed that the No .
1 job of the press in this country is to regain the trust of the American people , ” says Les Zaitz , an award-winning investigative journalist whose turnaround of the Malheur Enterprise in rural Oregon has been so successful that local delivery has gone from a grocery-cart @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the county .
“ If we make it through this , this makes us even more solidly a part of the community than we ’ ve ever been before.
” For Salt Lake Tribune editor Jennifer Napier-Pearce , the last couple of weeks have been earth-shattering .
Shortly after her staff started working at home , an earthquake hit Salt Lake City , rendering their offices uninhabitable .
Rumors began circulating on social media that another , larger quake would strike within the hour .
“ Our role is ... to get @ @ @ @ @ @ @ record and shoot down those rumors , ” says Ms. Napier-Pearce .
“ That ’ s when our work is so important – to make sure that people have good reliable sources of information so that they can make important decisions on questions of safety.
” “ If you hear my dog , sorry about that , ” she adds , as Slack messages ding in the background .
Even as senior editors juggle pets and kids , often on little sleep , they say their mission keeps them going .
Misinformation at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , can be a matter of life or death .
The Salt Lake Tribune has made its coronavirus coverage free as a public service , yet it ’ s seen a significant uptick in readership and annual subscriptions .
Other outlets across the country are seeing a similar phenomenon , with traffic increasing as much as 10-fold , new subscribers signing up at a record rate , and readers sending in unsolicited donations .
A donor has offered the Nevada Independent up to $ 100,000 in a matching grant .
Yet for most @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to offset the advertising losses .
Many newspapers , and particularly local outlets , were already operating on the thinnest of margins after years of budget cuts and staff reductions .
From 2008 to 2018 , the number of newsroom employees dropped by nearly half .
The current crisis is exacerbating those financial strains .
“ We ’ re dealing with the same problems , on steroids , ” says Mary Lou Nemanic , author of the just-released “ Metro Dailies in the Age of Multimedia Journalism , ” which tracked five newsrooms @ @ @ @ @ @ @ years that I studied them , it was really tragic to see how the staffs of three of the five papers were reduced to bare bones , ” she says , blaming “ corporate profiteers.
” Wide swaths of rural America have become “ news deserts , ” while suburban areas have seen a reduction in coverage from metro papers .
Take Falls Church , Virginia , which is less than seven miles from Washington , D.C. , but rarely gets coverage in The Washington Post .
So the Falls Church News-Press is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ says managing editor Jody Fellows , who is one of three full-time editorial staffers turning out as many main stories a day as they usually publish in a week – as well as an updated list of restaurants open for take-out and delivery .
“ We are so fortunate to have The Fourth Estate on duty in our City !
” wrote City Council member and retired journalist Phil Duncan , a 35-year resident of the city , in a Facebook note .
In 2018 , as the massive Camp Fire raged through @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into the hills where she had gotten her start as a beat reporter years before .
The scenes were devastating .
Two staffers at the Chico News & Review , where she now served as editor , had lost their homes .
Others were banned from returning home for a time .
Yet they threw heart and soul into the story .
After The New York Times and big TV stations had packed up and gone home , they discovered contamination in the water as a result of the unusually swift , hot @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were telling residents the water was safe to drink .
They requested public records , and found the state water board had withheld for months information about significantly increased risks of cancer from drinking the local water , which now included elevated levels of benzene .
“ Nobody had done this and we were like , ‘ Why hasn ’ t anyone done this ?
’ ” recalls Ms. Daugherty .
“ And then after we did it , we were like , ‘ This is such a huge story , why isn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this ?
’ ” On a recent afternoon , Ms. Daugherty – one of the staffers Mr. vonKaenel had to lay off – went into the Chico News & Review ’ s shuttered offices , and found the $ 100 check from a reader begging them to at least stay online .
The paper has been promised a reporter from Mr. Waldman ’ s Report for America corps , and she had secured the matching funds needed from a local community foundation .
Now she ’ s trying to find a way to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ I have to make things move really fast here – on my own time , as a volunteer , essentially , ” she says , noting that her health insurance runs out at the end of the month .
“ I ’ m super invested , and people from the community are really looking to me for an answer , ” adds Ms. Daugherty .
“ I just think about the consequences of not having a newspaper that does what we do .
It would be devastating to the community.
” [ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ public service , all our coronavirus coverage is free .
No paywall . ]
Editor ’ s note : The sidebar has been updated March 30 to include Facebook ’ s announcement of $ 100 million to support local news outlets .

“I have long believed that the No. 1 job of the press in this country is to regain the trust of the American people,” says Les Zaitz, an award-winning journalist. “If we make it through this, this makes us even more solidly a part of the community than we’ve ever been before.”
At a time that has exposed the dangers of misinformation, local journalism is getting an infusion of goodwill. But amid a sudden dearth of advertising and event revenue, many outlets have been forced to lay off employees, cut pay, reduce publishing schedules, or shut down. If there is an upside, the same crisis that is sorely testing their capacity and resources is also underscoring the value of the services they provide. And it could help restore public faith in media.
It’s one of the paradoxes of the coronavirus crisis: Local papers are going under even as both readership and public need for solid information soar. With advertisers pulling out, can other financial models offer hope?
Shortly after they started working at home due to the coronavirus, an earthquake hit, rendering their offices uninhabitable. “That’s when our work is so important – to make sure that people have good reliable sources of information so that they can make important decisions on questions of safety,” says editor Jennifer Napier-Pearce.
For the Salt Lake Tribune staff, the last couple of weeks have been earth-shattering.
In the heady days of anti-Vietnam War protests, the burgeoning women’s movement, and Richard Nixon’s sweep of 49 states in his 1972 reelection, Jeff vonKaenel went home to sell Fuller brushes. His future wife, Deborah Redmond, lived in her car.
The idea was to save up enough so they could afford to work for the new alternative weekly in Santa Barbara. Soon the ragtag publication got the local district attorney indicted, and brought a new raft of people to City Council through their endorsements. In 46 years of publishing alt weeklies, Mr. vonKaenel and his wife have never missed a single issue.
Until this month.
Why We Wrote This It’s one of the paradoxes of the coronavirus crisis: Local papers are going under even as both readership and public need for solid information soar. With advertisers pulling out, can other financial models offer hope?
When the coronavirus shut down local businesses, advertising suddenly dried up for their News & Review papers in Reno, Nevada; Sacramento; and Chico, California. They had already mortgaged their house earlier this year to keep things going, so their reserves were basically gone.
And thus, after achieving circulation rates as much as sixfold that of traditional papers in the same cities and readership far beyond that, they had to shut down – at least temporarily.
[Editor’s note: As a public service, all our coronavirus coverage is free. No paywall.]
“We started the paper with no money, so we’re good at figuring out how to do things with little resources,” says Mr. vonKaenel, who is reaching out to various organizations in hopes of pivoting to a new economic model that would include nonprofit or reader support, such as the $100 check that a reader slipped under the Chico News & Review’s door with a handwritten note begging them to stay online. Still, the publisher says, “I don’t think it’s going to be easy to have a phoenix moment when there’s massive unemployment.”
At a time of crisis that has exposed deep deficits of trust in American democracy and the dangers of misinformation, local journalism is getting an infusion of goodwill – including through subscriptions and donations. But it’s often not enough to make up for the sudden dearth of advertising and event revenue. Many outlets have been forced to lay off employees, cut pay, reduce publishing schedules, or shut down altogether.
If there’s an upside for local journalism, however, it’s that the same crisis that is sorely testing their capacity and resources is also underscoring the value of the services they provide, both inside and outside the newsroom. So even as the crisis exacerbates existing financial woes, it could also accelerate new models for sustainable journalism that have shown promising results in recent years. (See sidebar, below.)
“I am worried that [the crisis] could wipe out all of that progress. But I think there is also a hopeful sign, which is that the philanthropic sector is seeing that trustworthy local news is essential to a healthy community” – quite literally, says Steven Waldman, co-founder of Report for America, which deploys young journalists to local outlets around the country. “If that leads to a sea change in how philanthropy sees local media, then that would be a long-term positive development.”
The current crisis could also help restore public faith in media, which has suffered amid deepening political polarization.
“I have long believed that the No. 1 job of the press in this country is to regain the trust of the American people,” says Les Zaitz, an award-winning investigative journalist whose turnaround of the Malheur Enterprise in rural Oregon has been so successful that local delivery has gone from a grocery-cart tour of town to a 100-mile sweep of the county. “If we make it through this, this makes us even more solidly a part of the community than we’ve ever been before.”
Pandemic, followed by earthquake
For Salt Lake Tribune editor Jennifer Napier-Pearce, the last couple of weeks have been earth-shattering.
Shortly after her staff started working at home, an earthquake hit Salt Lake City, rendering their offices uninhabitable. Rumors began circulating on social media that another, larger quake would strike within the hour.
“Our role is ... to get authorities on the phone and on the record and shoot down those rumors,” says Ms. Napier-Pearce. “That’s when our work is so important – to make sure that people have good reliable sources of information so that they can make important decisions on questions of safety.”
“If you hear my dog, sorry about that,” she adds, as Slack messages ding in the background.
Even as senior editors juggle pets and kids, often on little sleep, they say their mission keeps them going. Misinformation at a time like this, they say, can be a matter of life or death.
The Salt Lake Tribune has made its coronavirus coverage free as a public service, yet it’s seen a significant uptick in readership and annual subscriptions. Other outlets across the country are seeing a similar phenomenon, with traffic increasing as much as 10-fold, new subscribers signing up at a record rate, and readers sending in unsolicited donations. A donor has offered the Nevada Independent up to $100,000 in a matching grant. Yet for most, it’s not nearly enough to offset the advertising losses.
Many newspapers, and particularly local outlets, were already operating on the thinnest of margins after years of budget cuts and staff reductions. From 2008 to 2018, the number of newsroom employees dropped by nearly half. The current crisis is exacerbating those financial strains.
“We’re dealing with the same problems, on steroids,” says Mary Lou Nemanic, author of the just-released “Metro Dailies in the Age of Multimedia Journalism,” which tracked five newsrooms over six years. “Over the years that I studied them, it was really tragic to see how the staffs of three of the five papers were reduced to bare bones,” she says, blaming “corporate profiteers.”
Wide swaths of rural America have become “news deserts,” while suburban areas have seen a reduction in coverage from metro papers. Take Falls Church, Virginia, which is less than seven miles from Washington, D.C., but rarely gets coverage in The Washington Post. So the Falls Church News-Press is essentially the only game in town, says managing editor Jody Fellows, who is one of three full-time editorial staffers turning out as many main stories a day as they usually publish in a week – as well as an updated list of restaurants open for take-out and delivery.
“We are so fortunate to have The Fourth Estate on duty in our City!” wrote City Council member and retired journalist Phil Duncan, a 35-year resident of the city, in a Facebook note.
“This is such a huge story”
In 2018, as the massive Camp Fire raged through Paradise, California, Melissa Daugherty headed into the hills where she had gotten her start as a beat reporter years before. The scenes were devastating. Two staffers at the Chico News & Review, where she now served as editor, had lost their homes. Others were banned from returning home for a time. Yet they threw heart and soul into the story.
After The New York Times and big TV stations had packed up and gone home, they discovered contamination in the water as a result of the unusually swift, hot fire – yet some local water authorities were telling residents the water was safe to drink. They requested public records, and found the state water board had withheld for months information about significantly increased risks of cancer from drinking the local water, which now included elevated levels of benzene.
“Nobody had done this and we were like, ‘Why hasn’t anyone done this?’” recalls Ms. Daugherty. “And then after we did it, we were like, ‘This is such a huge story, why isn’t anyone else picking up on this?’”
On a recent afternoon, Ms. Daugherty – one of the staffers Mr. vonKaenel had to lay off – went into the Chico News & Review’s shuttered offices, and found the $100 check from a reader begging them to at least stay online.
The paper has been promised a reporter from Mr. Waldman’s Report for America corps, and she had secured the matching funds needed from a local community foundation. Now she’s trying to find a way to restart operations before losing that reporter.
“I have to make things move really fast here – on my own time, as a volunteer, essentially,” she says, noting that her health insurance runs out at the end of the month.
“I’m super invested, and people from the community are really looking to me for an answer,” adds Ms. Daugherty. “I just think about the consequences of not having a newspaper that does what we do. It would be devastating to the community.”
Get stories that
empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
[Editor’s note: As a public service, all our coronavirus coverage is free. No paywall.]
Editor’s note: The sidebar has been updated March 30 to include Facebook’s announcement of $100 million to support local news outlets.


csmonitor--2020-04-15--South Korea: How to run an election during a pandemic

Millions of South Koreans wore masks and disposable gloves as they voted in parliamentary elections Wednesday , the highest turnout in nearly three decades despite the coronavirus .
The government resisted calls to postpone the parliamentary elections billed as a midterm referendum on President Moon Jae-in , who enters the final two years of his single five-year term grappling with a historic public health crisis that is unleashing massive economic shock .
Exit polls conducted by TV stations indicated that Mr .
Moon 's Democratic Party and a satellite party it created to win proportional representative seats would comfortably combine @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Assembly .
While South Korea 's electorate is deeply divided along ideological and generational lines and regional loyalties , recent surveys showed growing support for Mr .
Moon and his liberal party , reflecting the public 's approval of an aggressive test-and-quarantine program so far credited for lower fatality rates for the coronavirus compared to China , Europe , and North America .
The long lines that snaked around public offices and schools followed record-high participation in early voting held on Friday and Saturday , and defied expectations of a low turnout because @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In an initial count , the National Election Commission said more than 17.2 million people voted Wednesday .
Combined with the 11.8 million who cast their ballots during early voting or by mail , the overall turnout was 66.2 % , the highest since 71.9 % turnout in a 1992 general election .
Analysts struggled to find explanations for the unexpectedly high turnout .
Some simply gave up .
“ Sorry , I really don ’ t have any theory for this , ” said Yul Shin , a professor at Seoul ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are high , voters are usually trying to lay down judgment on a government that disappoints them .
But the exit polls predict a crushing win for the ruling party.
” '' We are going through difficult times , but the coronavirus and politics are two different things , '' said one voter , Lee Kum .
Another Seoul resident , Chung Eun-young , said she arrived at her polling station just after 6 a.m. to avoid crowds .
`` I was worried about the coronavirus , '' she said .
`` They @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , but it was n't as bothersome as I thought it would be .
...
I do n't like what we are going through , but I cast my ballot to prevent the wrong candidates from getting elected . ''
The voting draws a contrast with an upended election cycle in the United States , where some states have pushed back presidential primaries or switched to voting by mail .
To hold the parliamentary elections as scheduled , South Korean officials and health authorities drew up a deliberate set of preventive measures to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Duct tape or stickers marked 3 feet of social distancing space from nearby streets to ballot booths .
Masked poll workers checked temperatures of arrivals and whisked anyone with a fever or not wearing a mask to separate areas to vote , sanitizing the facilities after they voted .
Voters who passed the fever screening got sanitizing gel and disposable plastic gloves before entering booths .
The government also mapped out a voting process for those quarantined in their homes , a number that ballooned after the country began enforcing two-week quarantines @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 1 .
Officials texted eligible voters in self-quarantine before the vote and about 13,000 affirmed they wanted to participate .
Those without fever or respiratory symptoms were given permission to leave their homes from 5:20 p.m. to 7 p.m. so they could cast their ballots after 6 p.m. , when polling stations close for other voters .
They were to be escorted or monitored through tracking apps and must maintain a 6-foot distance at polling places , while workers fully dressed in protective suits were to disinfect booths after each of them votes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ then under two-week quarantine were able to vote by mail if they had applied in late March .
Around 400 of the mildly ill voted at temporary shelters during last week 's early voting .
South Korea has confirmed more than 10,590 coronavirus cases , including 225 deaths , with the number of new infections decreasing in recent weeks .
But there 's concern about rising cases in the densely populated Seoul metropolitan area , and worries that crowds at parks and on mass transportation may be a sign of a relaxing of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ elected every four years .
Voters directly elect 253 district seats , while the remaining 47 go to proportional representatives .
While dozens of parties registered candidates , the elections were seen largely as a two-way race between Mr .
Moon 's ruling Democratic Party and the main conservative opposition United Future Party .
Both registered satellite parties in a bid to win more proportional representative seats .
Just three years ago , mass protests ousted Mr .
Moon 's corrupt predecessor , but public displays of South Korea 's dynamic democracy were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Candidates , wearing masks and gloves , avoided large rallies and handshakes .
Things were more heated on the internet , which overflowed with bitter exchanges between supporters of Mr .
Moon and his conservative opponents , who accuse the government of economic and foreign policy failures and botching the financial response to the epidemic .
Before the virus began absorbing public attention , Mr .
Moon saw his support falter over a decaying job market , corruption scandals surrounding key political allies , and an ambitious but fragile diplomacy with rival North @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Moon held three summits with North Korean leader Kim Jong Un in 2018 , but the North in recent months severed virtually all cooperation with the South amid a stalemate in larger nuclear negotiations with the United States .
The North has also been dialing up weapons tests and fired a barrage of missiles into the sea on Tuesday .
A ruling party victory will likely embolden Mr .
Moon to drive his key domestic and foreign policies , including resuming inter-Korean cooperation and inducing U.S.-North Korea talks , said Duyeon Kim @ @ @ @ @ @ @ International Crisis Group .
This story was reported by The Associated Press .
Editor ’ s note : As a public service , the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage .
It ’ s free .

Millions of South Koreans wore masks and disposable gloves as they voted in parliamentary elections Wednesday, the highest turnout in nearly three decades despite the coronavirus.
The government resisted calls to postpone the parliamentary elections billed as a midterm referendum on President Moon Jae-in, who enters the final two years of his single five-year term grappling with a historic public health crisis that is unleashing massive economic shock.
Exit polls conducted by TV stations indicated that Mr. Moon's Democratic Party and a satellite party it created to win proportional representative seats would comfortably combine for a majority in the 300-seat National Assembly.
While South Korea's electorate is deeply divided along ideological and generational lines and regional loyalties, recent surveys showed growing support for Mr. Moon and his liberal party, reflecting the public's approval of an aggressive test-and-quarantine program so far credited for lower fatality rates for the coronavirus compared to China, Europe, and North America.
The long lines that snaked around public offices and schools followed record-high participation in early voting held on Friday and Saturday, and defied expectations of a low turnout because of fears of contracting the virus.
In an initial count, the National Election Commission said more than 17.2 million people voted Wednesday. Combined with the 11.8 million who cast their ballots during early voting or by mail, the overall turnout was 66.2%, the highest since 71.9% turnout in a 1992 general election.
Analysts struggled to find explanations for the unexpectedly high turnout. Some simply gave up.
“Sorry, I really don’t have any theory for this,” said Yul Shin, a professor at Seoul’s Myongji University. “When turnouts are high, voters are usually trying to lay down judgment on a government that disappoints them. But the exit polls predict a crushing win for the ruling party.”
"We are going through difficult times, but the coronavirus and politics are two different things," said one voter, Lee Kum.
Another Seoul resident, Chung Eun-young, said she arrived at her polling station just after 6 a.m. to avoid crowds.
"I was worried about the coronavirus," she said. "They checked my temperature and handed me gloves, but it wasn't as bothersome as I thought it would be. ... I don't like what we are going through, but I cast my ballot to prevent the wrong candidates from getting elected."
The voting draws a contrast with an upended election cycle in the United States, where some states have pushed back presidential primaries or switched to voting by mail.
To hold the parliamentary elections as scheduled, South Korean officials and health authorities drew up a deliberate set of preventive measures to reduce risks of the virus being transmitted.
Duct tape or stickers marked 3 feet of social distancing space from nearby streets to ballot booths. Masked poll workers checked temperatures of arrivals and whisked anyone with a fever or not wearing a mask to separate areas to vote, sanitizing the facilities after they voted. Voters who passed the fever screening got sanitizing gel and disposable plastic gloves before entering booths.
The government also mapped out a voting process for those quarantined in their homes, a number that ballooned after the country began enforcing two-week quarantines on all arrivals from overseas on April 1.
Officials texted eligible voters in self-quarantine before the vote and about 13,000 affirmed they wanted to participate. Those without fever or respiratory symptoms were given permission to leave their homes from 5:20 p.m. to 7 p.m. so they could cast their ballots after 6 p.m., when polling stations close for other voters.
They were to be escorted or monitored through tracking apps and must maintain a 6-foot distance at polling places, while workers fully dressed in protective suits were to disinfect booths after each of them votes.
Hospitalized patients or those who were then under two-week quarantine were able to vote by mail if they had applied in late March. Around 400 of the mildly ill voted at temporary shelters during last week's early voting.
South Korea has confirmed more than 10,590 coronavirus cases, including 225 deaths, with the number of new infections decreasing in recent weeks. But there's concern about rising cases in the densely populated Seoul metropolitan area, and worries that crowds at parks and on mass transportation may be a sign of a relaxing of social distancing.
The National Assembly is elected every four years. Voters directly elect 253 district seats, while the remaining 47 go to proportional representatives.
While dozens of parties registered candidates, the elections were seen largely as a two-way race between Mr. Moon's ruling Democratic Party and the main conservative opposition United Future Party. Both registered satellite parties in a bid to win more proportional representative seats.
Just three years ago, mass protests ousted Mr. Moon's corrupt predecessor, but public displays of South Korea's dynamic democracy were muted this year by the virus. Candidates, wearing masks and gloves, avoided large rallies and handshakes. Things were more heated on the internet, which overflowed with bitter exchanges between supporters of Mr. Moon and his conservative opponents, who accuse the government of economic and foreign policy failures and botching the financial response to the epidemic.
Before the virus began absorbing public attention, Mr. Moon saw his support falter over a decaying job market, corruption scandals surrounding key political allies, and an ambitious but fragile diplomacy with rival North Korea that's falling apart.
Mr. Moon held three summits with North Korean leader Kim Jong Un in 2018, but the North in recent months severed virtually all cooperation with the South amid a stalemate in larger nuclear negotiations with the United States. The North has also been dialing up weapons tests and fired a barrage of missiles into the sea on Tuesday.
A ruling party victory will likely embolden Mr. Moon to drive his key domestic and foreign policies, including resuming inter-Korean cooperation and inducing U.S.-North Korea talks, said Duyeon Kim, a senior adviser at the Brussels-based International Crisis Group.
Get stories that
empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
This story was reported by The Associated Press.
Editor’s note: As a public service, the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage. It’s free.


csmonitor--2020-05-11--African nations find solutions to shortages in virus crisis

A loud hiss and grunt come from a green bag pressing air through a tube , as Senegalese researchers work to develop a prototype ventilator that could cost a mere $ 160 each instead of tens of thousands of dollars .
The team is using 3-D printed parts as it works to find a homegrown solution to a medical shortfall that has struck even the richest countries : How to have enough breathing machines to handle an avalanche of COVID-19 patients who need the devices to help increase their blood oxygen levels .
Complicating the task in Africa is the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the continent is expected to come later than in Europe and the United States , well after dozens of other countries have bought out available supplies .
`` Africans must find their own solutions to their problems .
We must show our independence .
It 's a big motivation for this , '' said Ibrahima Gueye , a professor at the Polytechnic School of Thies in Senegal , on the 12-member team developing the prototype ventilator .
Their efforts are being mirrored elsewhere across the continent , where medical supplies are usually @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to develop ventilators , personal protective equipment , sanitizers , and quick-result antibody tests will lead to more independent solutions for future health crises .
Although the quality of some products wo n't meet as high a standard as in the U.S. or Europe , Mr. Gueye said there is excitement that level can be reached eventually , with enough time and investment .
In Ethiopia , biomedical engineer Bilisumma Anbesse is among those volunteers repairing and upgrading old ventilators .
While the country has tried to procure more than 1,000 ventilators abroad @ @ @ @ @ @ @ high demand .
`` U.S. and Chinese companies that produce mechanical ventilators are saying they ca n't accept new orders until July .
The same is true with other medical items like PPE and gloves , '' Mr. Annbesse said , referring to the personal protective gear worn to minimize exposure to health hazards .
Africans also are helping to develop tools for disease prevention and surveillance .
Institut Pasteur in Dakar is working on a rapid test for COVID-19 in partnership with the British biotech company Mologic , which developed a rapid @ @ @ @ @ @ @ test , which can give results in 10 minutes , could be distributed across Africa as early as June .
Once a prototype is validated , the test kits will be made in the U.K. and at a new facility in Senegal for infectious disease testing , DiaTropix , that was founded by Institut Pasteur .
Workers in Dakar are using laser cutters to make about 1,000 face shields per week for health care workers .
They also are creating key chains with prevention messages such as `` Stay Home . ''
Alcohol-based @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on university and technical college campuses that have been transformed into `` COVID response factories . ''
Higher Education Minister Amon Murwira said the teams are also producing face masks , gowns , and aprons .
It 's not known whether these projects will be finished before the virus hits its peak in Africa , but observers say the longer-term impact of such ingenuity is substantial .
`` Necessity is the mother of invention , '' Dr. Ahmed Ogwell , deputy director of the Africa Centers for Disease Control and Prevention , told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 're seeing in Africa is going to change the way medical supplies in particular are manufactured . ''
He predicted there would be a `` new public health order '' after the pandemic , with changes in global supply chains .
Countries already are taking steps toward not having to rely on help from abroad .
Developing countries are scrambling for equipment as deliveries are hindered .
But even India , where some engineers are also trying to build low-cost ventilators , has access to more than 19,000 of them in addition to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tens of thousands more .
African nations are understanding the importance of local production and ingenuity .
Ghana is using drone technology to transport COVID-19 tests and protective gear in collaboration with a U.S.-based company called Zipline that already was distributing vaccines and other medical products to remote parts of the country .
`` This is a global pandemic : 210 countries and territories across the globe are affected , '' Nigeria 's President Muhammadu Buhari tweeted recently .
`` We can not expect others to come to our assistance .
No one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ us . ''
This story was reported by The Associated Press .
AP writers Elias Meseret in Addis Ababa , Ethiopia ; Farai Mutsaka in Harare , Zimbabwe ; and Cara Anna in Johannesburg contributed .
Editor ’ s note : As a public service , the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage .
It ’ s free .

A loud hiss and grunt come from a green bag pressing air through a tube, as Senegalese researchers work to develop a prototype ventilator that could cost a mere $160 each instead of tens of thousands of dollars.
The team is using 3-D printed parts as it works to find a homegrown solution to a medical shortfall that has struck even the richest countries: How to have enough breathing machines to handle an avalanche of COVID-19 patients who need the devices to help increase their blood oxygen levels.
Complicating the task in Africa is the fact that the peak in coronavirus cases for the continent is expected to come later than in Europe and the United States, well after dozens of other countries have bought out available supplies.
"Africans must find their own solutions to their problems. We must show our independence. It's a big motivation for this," said Ibrahima Gueye, a professor at the Polytechnic School of Thies in Senegal, on the 12-member team developing the prototype ventilator.
Their efforts are being mirrored elsewhere across the continent, where medical supplies are usually imported.
Many hope that these efforts to develop ventilators, personal protective equipment, sanitizers, and quick-result antibody tests will lead to more independent solutions for future health crises.
Although the quality of some products won't meet as high a standard as in the U.S. or Europe, Mr. Gueye said there is excitement that level can be reached eventually, with enough time and investment.
In Ethiopia, biomedical engineer Bilisumma Anbesse is among those volunteers repairing and upgrading old ventilators. While the country has tried to procure more than 1,000 ventilators abroad, progress has been thwarted by the high demand.
"U.S. and Chinese companies that produce mechanical ventilators are saying they can't accept new orders until July. The same is true with other medical items like PPE and gloves," Mr. Annbesse said, referring to the personal protective gear worn to minimize exposure to health hazards.
Africans also are helping to develop tools for disease prevention and surveillance.
Institut Pasteur in Dakar is working on a rapid test for COVID-19 in partnership with the British biotech company Mologic, which developed a rapid Ebola test. They hope the coronavirus test, which can give results in 10 minutes, could be distributed across Africa as early as June. Once a prototype is validated, the test kits will be made in the U.K. and at a new facility in Senegal for infectious disease testing, DiaTropix, that was founded by Institut Pasteur.
Workers in Dakar are using laser cutters to make about 1,000 face shields per week for health care workers. They also are creating key chains with prevention messages such as "Stay Home."
Alcohol-based hand sanitizers are being produced in Zimbabwe on university and technical college campuses that have been transformed into "COVID response factories." Higher Education Minister Amon Murwira said the teams are also producing face masks, gowns, and aprons.
It's not known whether these projects will be finished before the virus hits its peak in Africa, but observers say the longer-term impact of such ingenuity is substantial.
"Necessity is the mother of invention," Dr. Ahmed Ogwell, deputy director of the Africa Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, told The Associated Press. "What we're seeing in Africa is going to change the way medical supplies in particular are manufactured."
He predicted there would be a "new public health order" after the pandemic, with changes in global supply chains. Countries already are taking steps toward not having to rely on help from abroad.
Developing countries are scrambling for equipment as deliveries are hindered. But even India, where some engineers are also trying to build low-cost ventilators, has access to more than 19,000 of them in addition to domestic manufacturers who are expected to deliver tens of thousands more.
African nations are understanding the importance of local production and ingenuity.
Ghana is using drone technology to transport COVID-19 tests and protective gear in collaboration with a U.S.-based company called Zipline that already was distributing vaccines and other medical products to remote parts of the country.
"This is a global pandemic: 210 countries and territories across the globe are affected," Nigeria's President Muhammadu Buhari tweeted recently. "We cannot expect others to come to our assistance. No one is coming to defeat this virus for us."
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empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
This story was reported by The Associated Press. AP writers Elias Meseret in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia; Farai Mutsaka in Harare, Zimbabwe; and Cara Anna in Johannesburg contributed.
Editor’s note: As a public service, the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage. It’s free.


csmonitor--2020-04-10--To reach his flock in a crisis, one minister turns to the old tools

Awash in disorienting conditions , I ’ ve spent the past month scrambling to find ways to hold my flock together – in worship , mission , and pastoral care – without getting together physically .
It feels unfaithful at times to not be like Jesus , who touched even the lepers whom others shunned .
Yet distance is what love now requires , and I ’ m finding technology goes only so far in closing the gaps .
The rest needs to come from an even older ministry toolbox , one our spiritual ancestors left for us to use @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The ministry crisis began in mid-March when our town health director asked me over the phone to suspend worship services .
We complied even though Sunday morning at our white-steepled , 1869 meeting house is our epicenter .
When our bell rings out for miles at 9:45 , it means God is soon to be worshipped and God ’ s people are soon to confer on all kinds of decisions that will shape our life together .
Without our Sunday huddle , we ’ d surely feel lost in a wilderness .
Yet @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and our building was already needed for another purpose : feeding the hungry .
I am a pastor .
I lead a Massachusetts congregation that meets for the same reasons that it was first gathered in 1635 : to pray and sing , to comfort and challenge , to share food and laughter , to facilitate helping and being helped , to foster and celebrate righteousness with God .
When disaster strikes , whether it ’ s a 17th-century drought or a 21st-century terrorist attack , we join hands and seek God .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ it ’ s who we are .
That is , until we can ’ t .
The coronavirus pandemic , with its necessity for social distancing , poses challenges unlike any I ’ ve faced over 20 years of ordained ministry .
It ’ s as if I lost the key to my ministry toolbox .
Unable to worship in person , I can ’ t look out from the pulpit and see who ’ s dabbing eyes – or yawning for that matter .
I no longer get coffee hour updates on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or grandchildren ’ s sporting events .
I can ’ t even hold hands and pray with my nursing home shut-ins .
No visitors allowed there anymore .
Not even clergy .
Editor ’ s note : As a public service , all our coronavirus coverage is free .
No paywall .
Awash in disorienting conditions , I ’ ve spent the past month scrambling to find ways to hold my flock together – in worship , mission , and pastoral care – without getting together physically .
It feels unfaithful at times @ @ @ @ @ @ @ touched even the lepers whom others shunned .
Yet distance is what love now requires , and I ’ m finding technology goes only so far in closing the gaps .
The rest needs to come from an even older ministry toolbox , one our spiritual ancestors left for us to use in such a time as this .
The ministry crisis began in mid-March when our town health director asked me over the phone to suspend worship services .
We complied even though Sunday morning at our white-steepled , 1869 meeting house @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rings out for miles at 9:45 , it means God is soon to be worshipped and God ’ s people are soon to confer on all kinds of decisions that will shape our life together .
Without our Sunday huddle , we ’ d surely feel lost in a wilderness .
Yet we ’ d have to adapt , and our building was already needed for another purpose : feeding the hungry .
The food pantry at First Parish Church of Newbury normally feeds 75 to 125 people a week , but demand @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Food bank deliveries now arrive weekly , including one last week for 9,000 pounds .
Every pew is filled with canned vegetables , rice , and other basics for drive-thru and home deliveries .
Though I serve the church part-time and live 45 minutes away , I still wanted to support this volunteer-run operation that had suddenly expanded to take over the whole sanctuary .
But how ?
At first , I acted instinctively and just showed up .
Keeping six feet apart , I folded cardboard boxes and encouraged this monumental @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s most vulnerable .
But organizers didn ’ t need or want extra bodies around as health precautions got stricter week by week .
So I stayed home and borrowed a page from an old ministry playbook that says in effect : Let the people testify .
I posted volunteers ’ photos , passed along their updates via e-newsletter and put them in touch with news media who reported what they ’ re doing and what motivates them .
Making room for witness is what our forebears might call it .
They were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ re still a small church with a big problem : no physical place to gather .
Our solution involved moving worship online to Zoom , where videoconferencing lets us see our 25 regulars and hear their prayer requests .
It ’ s not perfect – our music sounds better in our sanctuary than online – but being virtually together makes up for many a trade-off .
Getting everyone to Zoom has been a bit like moving a 19th-century caravan through a mountain pass .
Several hopped on easily , but some would need @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Two have no computers at home .
A bunch more can ’ t stand technology : It escalates their anxiety in what are already anxious times .
These are folks who love to help others and don ’ t like being on the receiving end of handouts or tutorials .
So I tried an old-school ministry move : I picked up the phone and called to check on everyone .
I had been using the phone less and less in an age of texting and instant messaging , but now it was a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , I offered tips for using Zoom , but more than that : I listened .
In quivering voices , I heard fears about being high-risk for complications of COVID-19 .
I heard confessions that had pent up with no ears to hear them out .
One parishioner called me back within a few hours , just to talk again .
The tech issues are now largely resolved , but the calls have continued .
They ’ ve been a grace connecting me with my flock on a new , more personal level @ @ @ @ @ @ @ learned , is a distinct craft with its own learning curve .
To my surprise , the ancestors ’ toolbox has come in handy here too .
I ’ d never realized how much my preaching feeds off energy from my congregation until I started giving sermons from my home office .
Now I ’ m speaking into a computer camera while the entire crowd listens on mute .
Though Congregationalists are jokingly called the frozen chosen , mass muting takes their reticence to a whole new level .
Without the usual feedback @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fast forward there , I crave new props to help me be sure folks are still engaged , not dozing off .
For that , I ’ ve started putting art on PowerPoint slides , which I ’ d never used at the meeting house .
Much as Europe ’ s cathedrals once relied on stained glass to bring biblical stories to nonreaders , I ’ m finding illustrations can poignantly reach the frazzled , the stressed out , and the easily distracted in pandemic times .
In Easter season , we will @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Raphael , and Caravaggio depicted the risen Christ .
With that cloud of artistic witnesses with me , I feel synced with the saints even when I ’ m preaching alone .
I ’ m reminded once again that I ’ m part of a team , a Communion , that transcends space and time .
I haven ’ t had to give up all embodied ministry .
When I heard a longtime parishioner was receiving end-of-life care at her nursing home , I got permission to see her under an exception @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , I led the family in a farewell rite .
I marked her forehead with the sign of the cross .
I trusted she could hear me and knew the vibrations in my voice as those of her earthly shepherd , pointing her safely to a final peace with God .
It felt good to draw again on my familiar toolbox in a moment when it mattered .
Someday this pandemic will relent and we ’ ll do ministry again as people for whom the Incarnation is a guiding truth .
By then @ @ @ @ @ @ @ deeper , thanks to those who left us tools we never expected to need again .
Editor ’ s note : As a public service , all our coronavirus coverage is free .
No paywall .
G. Jeffrey MacDonald is pastor of First Parish Church of Newbury , UCC .
His second book , “ Part-Time is Plenty : Thriving Without Full-Time Clergy , ” was published this month .

“It’s as if I lost the key to my ministry toolbox. Unable to worship in person, I can’t look out from the pulpit and see who’s dabbing eyes – or yawning for that matter,” writes our essayist. He and his parishioners have found other ways to come together in grace.
Awash in disorienting conditions, I’ve spent the past month scrambling to find ways to hold my flock together – in worship, mission, and pastoral care – without getting together physically. It feels unfaithful at times to not be like Jesus, who touched even the lepers whom others shunned. Yet distance is what love now requires, and I’m finding technology goes only so far in closing the gaps. The rest needs to come from an even older ministry toolbox, one our spiritual ancestors left for us to use in such a time as this.
The ministry crisis began in mid-March when our town health director asked me over the phone to suspend worship services. We complied even though Sunday morning at our white-steepled, 1869 meeting house is our epicenter. When our bell rings out for miles at 9:45, it means God is soon to be worshipped and God’s people are soon to confer on all kinds of decisions that will shape our life together. Without our Sunday huddle, we’d surely feel lost in a wilderness. Yet we’d have to adapt, and our building was already needed for another purpose: feeding the hungry.
I am a pastor. I lead a Massachusetts congregation that meets for the same reasons that it was first gathered in 1635: to pray and sing, to comfort and challenge, to share food and laughter, to facilitate helping and being helped, to foster and celebrate righteousness with God. When disaster strikes, whether it’s a 17th-century drought or a 21st-century terrorist attack, we join hands and seek God. Coming together is what we do because it’s who we are.
That is, until we can’t.
The coronavirus pandemic, with its necessity for social distancing, poses challenges unlike any I’ve faced over 20 years of ordained ministry. It’s as if I lost the key to my ministry toolbox. Unable to worship in person, I can’t look out from the pulpit and see who’s dabbing eyes – or yawning for that matter. I no longer get coffee hour updates on backyard tree removals, hip replacements, or grandchildren’s sporting events. I can’t even hold hands and pray with my nursing home shut-ins. No visitors allowed there anymore. Not even clergy.
Why We Wrote This “It’s as if I lost the key to my ministry toolbox. Unable to worship in person, I can’t look out from the pulpit and see who’s dabbing eyes – or yawning for that matter,” writes our essayist. He and his parishioners have found other ways to come together in grace.
Editor’s note: As a public service, all our coronavirus coverage is free. No paywall.
Awash in disorienting conditions, I’ve spent the past month scrambling to find ways to hold my flock together – in worship, mission, and pastoral care – without getting together physically. It feels unfaithful at times to not be like Jesus, who touched even the lepers whom others shunned. Yet distance is what love now requires, and I’m finding technology goes only so far in closing the gaps. The rest needs to come from an even older ministry toolbox, one our spiritual ancestors left for us to use in such a time as this.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption G. Jeffrey MacDonald stands between his church's pews, which are filled with 10,000 pounds of donated food from the Greater Boston Food Bank, to help the greater numbers of those in need due to skyrocketing unemployment.
The ministry crisis began in mid-March when our town health director asked me over the phone to suspend worship services. We complied even though Sunday morning at our white-steepled, 1869 meeting house is our epicenter. When our bell rings out for miles at 9:45, it means God is soon to be worshipped and God’s people are soon to confer on all kinds of decisions that will shape our life together. Without our Sunday huddle, we’d surely feel lost in a wilderness. Yet we’d have to adapt, and our building was already needed for another purpose: feeding the hungry.
The food pantry at First Parish Church of Newbury normally feeds 75 to 125 people a week, but demand more than tripled when layoffs started skyrocketing. Food bank deliveries now arrive weekly, including one last week for 9,000 pounds. Every pew is filled with canned vegetables, rice, and other basics for drive-thru and home deliveries. Though I serve the church part-time and live 45 minutes away, I still wanted to support this volunteer-run operation that had suddenly expanded to take over the whole sanctuary. But how?
At first, I acted instinctively and just showed up. Keeping six feet apart, I folded cardboard boxes and encouraged this monumental effort to provide for our area’s most vulnerable. But organizers didn’t need or want extra bodies around as health precautions got stricter week by week. So I stayed home and borrowed a page from an old ministry playbook that says in effect: Let the people testify. I posted volunteers’ photos, passed along their updates via e-newsletter and put them in touch with news media who reported what they’re doing and what motivates them. Making room for witness is what our forebears might call it. They were onto something.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption First Parish Church of Newbury was built in 1869. The original church was built in 1635 and has had four iterations.
Meanwhile, we’re still a small church with a big problem: no physical place to gather. Our solution involved moving worship online to Zoom, where videoconferencing lets us see our 25 regulars and hear their prayer requests. It’s not perfect – our music sounds better in our sanctuary than online – but being virtually together makes up for many a trade-off.
Getting everyone to Zoom has been a bit like moving a 19th-century caravan through a mountain pass. Several hopped on easily, but some would need to go back and assist stragglers. Two have no computers at home. A bunch more can’t stand technology: It escalates their anxiety in what are already anxious times. These are folks who love to help others and don’t like being on the receiving end of handouts or tutorials. So I tried an old-school ministry move: I picked up the phone and called to check on everyone.
I had been using the phone less and less in an age of texting and instant messaging, but now it was a rediscovered treasure in my hand. Sure, I offered tips for using Zoom, but more than that: I listened. In quivering voices, I heard fears about being high-risk for complications of COVID-19. I heard confessions that had pent up with no ears to hear them out. One parishioner called me back within a few hours, just to talk again. The tech issues are now largely resolved, but the calls have continued. They’ve been a grace connecting me with my flock on a new, more personal level.
Preaching online, I’ve learned, is a distinct craft with its own learning curve. To my surprise, the ancestors’ toolbox has come in handy here too. I’d never realized how much my preaching feeds off energy from my congregation until I started giving sermons from my home office. Now I’m speaking into a computer camera while the entire crowd listens on mute. Though Congregationalists are jokingly called the frozen chosen, mass muting takes their reticence to a whole new level. Without the usual feedback cues signaling me to embellish here or fast forward there, I crave new props to help me be sure folks are still engaged, not dozing off.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption A sign in front of First Parish Church of Newbury lets people know how to log into Pastor MacDonald's sermons, on April 8, 2020, in Newbury, Massachusetts
For that, I’ve started putting art on PowerPoint slides, which I’d never used at the meeting house. Much as Europe’s cathedrals once relied on stained glass to bring biblical stories to nonreaders, I’m finding illustrations can poignantly reach the frazzled, the stressed out, and the easily distracted in pandemic times. In Easter season, we will look together at how masters like Renoir, Raphael, and Caravaggio depicted the risen Christ. With that cloud of artistic witnesses with me, I feel synced with the saints even when I’m preaching alone. I’m reminded once again that I’m part of a team, a Communion, that transcends space and time.
I haven’t had to give up all embodied ministry. When I heard a longtime parishioner was receiving end-of-life care at her nursing home, I got permission to see her under an exception for the dying. Wearing a mask, I led the family in a farewell rite. I marked her forehead with the sign of the cross. I trusted she could hear me and knew the vibrations in my voice as those of her earthly shepherd, pointing her safely to a final peace with God. It felt good to draw again on my familiar toolbox in a moment when it mattered.
Someday this pandemic will relent and we’ll do ministry again as people for whom the Incarnation is a guiding truth. By then our pastoral repertoires will be wider and deeper, thanks to those who left us tools we never expected to need again.
Get stories that
empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
Editor’s note: As a public service, all our coronavirus coverage is free. No paywall.
G. Jeffrey MacDonald is pastor of First Parish Church of Newbury, UCC. His second book, “Part-Time is Plenty: Thriving Without Full-Time Clergy,” was published this month.