What day is it today?

Today is Tuesday , June 2 , 2020 , at least in the continental United States .
It is already Wednesday , June 3 , 2020 , in some parts of the world .
Can you believe it ’ s June ?
It is !
To some degree , time is an illusion .
We are bound by its forward passage , being the third-dimensional creatures we are , but the perceptions we have placed upon time have been invented .
Humans invented the year .
Humans invented the month .
Humans invented the day , the hour , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are not arbitrary — it really does take about 365 days for the Earth to orbit the sun — but their creation was not inevitable .
Our numerical system is likely base-10 because we have 10 fingers ; the way we understand time is almost entirely dependent on the fact that we evolved on this planet , circling this sun .
Time , at least as we understand it , is also a byproduct of capitalism .
In his seminal 1967 economic paper “ Work-Discipline and Industrial Capitalism , ” E. P. Thompson @ @ @ @ @ @ @ delineations of time were broad understandings of when the sun came up and went down , when the seasons changed .
But as industrialization became the norm , time became a mechanized system that no longer served those who ’ d invented it .
We increasingly served at the beck and call of time , for that is how those who possessed capital could best regulate those who performed the labor .
For we are now at a point where sociologists are discussing the “ problem ” of leisure .
And a part @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it come to be a problem ?
Puritanism , in its marriage of convenience with industrial capitalism , was the agent which converted men to new valuations of time ; which taught children even in their infancy to improve each shining hour ; and which saturated men ’ s minds with the equation , time is money .
One recurrent form of revolt within Western industrial capitalism , whether bohemian or beatnik , has often taken the form of flouting the urgency of respectable timevalues .
And the interesting question arises : if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ work-ethos which enabled the industrialized world to break out of the poverty-stricken economies of the past , will the Puritan valuation of time begin to decompose as the pressures of poverty relax ?
Is it decomposing already ?
Will men begin to lose that restless urgency , that desire to consume time purposively , which most people carry just as they carry a watch on their wrists ?
But it remains that on some base level , we will always understand time .
The sun comes up , the sun goes down .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ that process is more difficult to witness , the fact of our insideness does not obscure the day and night cycle .
What is lost , as each day blends into the next , in vaguely similar ways , is the mechanistic definition of time , the capitalist definition of time , the industrial definition of time .
We do not know what day it is , but we do know when there is a new day .
To live inside is to lose distinction .
There is a numbing effect that occurs @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when our schedules are subsumed by what feels like an endless gulf of undifferentiated time .
And yet isn ’ t this how so many of the less privileged around the world , forced to work jobs involving menial labor , day after day after day , already live ?
Isn ’ t this why we invented the weekend ?
Has this quarantine simply shown to those of us with more economic privilege that our “ free time ” was always a mirage , which could disappear before our eyes , by giving @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
I have a wall calendar hanging above my desk , and when I need to orient myself in time , I look at it .
But even the usefulness of my calendar has started to fray around the edges .
I began writing this story because I couldn ’ t quite believe it was a Thursday , even as I knew it had to be a Thursday .
But it might as well not be .
A cycle that bears the sun across our sky until it sets in the west is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an invention .
Is it still necessary ?
I don ’ t know .
I will update this article daily until we don ’ t need it anymore .
I hope there is a time when we know it is Thursday or Tuesday or June 17 without having to look at a calendar or ask each other or Google .
I hope there is a time when going outside to see the sun doesn ’ t feel like exposing yourself to toxic levels of radiation .
( I know I should be taking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like I ’ m risking everything . )
I hope there is a time in which all this “ free ” time no longer feels like a period we must exploit for maximum value .
I hope there is a time when I remember what it ’ s like to grab lunch with a friend , to watch dogs play in the surf , to breathe in the air and just be .
Until then , find a way to make time have meaning for you .
Read a long book .
Cook @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Write an epic poem .
Watch a TV show you ’ ve always meant to get to .
Sleep .
Remember that time doesn ’ t own you , and that you own time .
This will be over someday , a part of the past .
It will someday be a memory .
Hang on to that .
I ’ ll see you outside again .
For now , it is Tuesday , June 2 , 2020 .
In some parts of the world , it is Wednesday , June 3 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ What day is it today ?
” superfan ?
Check out our official theme song .
It ’ s written by composer Laura Stratford , and it is wonderful .

Today is Wednesday, July 1, 2020, at least in the continental United States. It is already Thursday, July 2, 2020, in some parts of the world. Life isn’t resuming gracefully, but the herky jerky train wreck of America’s reopening certainly speaks to some desire to exit this quarantine period. And so “What Day Is It Today” will exit the stage, too. For now, at least.
To some degree, time is an illusion. We are bound by its forward passage, being the third-dimensional creatures we are, but the perceptions we have placed upon time have been invented. Humans invented the year. Humans invented the month. Humans invented the day, the hour, the minute, the second.
These distinctions are not arbitrary — it really does take about 365 days for the Earth to orbit the sun — but their creation was not inevitable. Our numerical system is likely base-10 because we have 10 fingers; the way we understand time is almost entirely dependent on the fact that we evolved on this planet, circling this sun.
Time, at least as we understand it, is also a byproduct of capitalism. In his seminal 1967 economic paper “Work-Discipline and Industrial Capitalism,” E. P. Thompson notes that in early human cultures, delineations of time were broad understandings of when the sun came up and went down, when the seasons changed. But as industrialization became the norm, time became a mechanized system that no longer served those who’d invented it. We increasingly served at the beck and call of time, for that is how those who possessed capital could best regulate those who performed the labor.
Thompson writes:
For we are now at a point where sociologists are discussing the “problem” of leisure. And a part of the problem is: how did it come to be a problem ? Puritanism, in its marriage of convenience with industrial capitalism, was the agent which converted men to new valuations of time; which taught children even in their infancy to improve each shining hour; and which saturated men’s minds with the equation, time is money. One recurrent form of revolt within Western industrial capitalism, whether bohemian or beatnik, has often taken the form of flouting the urgency of respectable timevalues. And the interesting question arises: if Puritanism was a necessary part of the work-ethos which enabled the industrialized world to break out of the poverty-stricken economies of the past, will the Puritan valuation of time begin to decompose as the pressures of poverty relax? Is it decomposing already? Will men begin to lose that restless urgency, that desire to consume time purposively, which most people carry just as they carry a watch on their wrists?
But it remains that on some base level, we will always understand time. The sun comes up, the sun goes down. Though we might be inside, where that process is more difficult to witness, the fact of our insideness does not obscure the day and night cycle. What is lost, as each day blends into the next, in vaguely similar ways, is the mechanistic definition of time, the capitalist definition of time, the industrial definition of time. We do not know what day it is, but we do know when there is a new day.
To live inside is to lose distinction. There is a numbing effect that occurs when each day is the same, when our schedules are subsumed by what feels like an endless gulf of undifferentiated time. And yet isn’t this how so many of the less privileged around the world, forced to work jobs involving menial labor, day after day after day, already live? Isn’t this why we invented the weekend? Has this quarantine simply shown to those of us with more economic privilege that our “free time” was always a mirage, which could disappear before our eyes, by giving us so much “free” time?
I have a wall calendar hanging above my desk, and when I need to orient myself in time, I look at it. But even the usefulness of my calendar has started to fray around the edges. I began writing this story because I couldn’t quite believe it was a Thursday, even as I knew it had to be a Thursday. But it might as well not be. A cycle that bears the sun across our sky until it sets in the west is a reality; “Thursday” is an invention. Is it still necessary? I don’t know.
What’s important to remember is that time doesn’t own you. You own time. This will be over someday, a part of the past. It will someday be a memory. Hang on to that. I’ll see you outside again.
This story was originally published Friday, March 27, 2020.
Are you a “What day is it today?” superfan? Check out our official theme song. It’s written by composer Laura Stratford, and it is wonderful.


vox--2020-06-02--2 primary races to watch in Indiana

2 primary races to watch in Indiana

Indiana ’ s June 2 primary elections will have essentially no bearing on the presidential race , but in two congressional districts , both Democrats and Republicans hope to capitalize on the retirements of long-serving members of the House of Representatives to flip seats held for decades by the opposite party .
In the largely Democratic 1st District , which contains much of the Chicago exurbs in the northwest area of the state , 14 Democrats and six Republicans are running to replace retiring incumbent Peter Visclosky ( D-IN ) , who has been in office since 1984 .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Republicans and five Democrats competing for the seat left open by incumbent Republican Rep. Susan Brooks who decided not to run for a fifth term .
A large percentage of voters in the state ’ s primary — which was delayed in March due to the pandemic — are expected to vote by mail .
Voters were n't required to state a reason for requesting an absentee ballot , and state election officials reported last week that they had received over 545,935 applications to vote by mail before the May 21 deadline .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the mere 53,818 mail-in absentee ballots that were cast in the 2016 primary .
Polls close in Indiana at 6 p.m. Eastern ; Vox will have live results for the state ’ s races in partnership with Decision Desk below .
As they come in , here ’ s what you need to know about the 1st and 5th districts — two races to watch : The 1st District hasn ’ t elected a Republican since 1930 , and it is rated as “ solid Democratic ” by the Cook Political Report .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ part of LaPorte counties , both of which went for Obama in 2012 but flipped to Trump in 2016 , so Republicans are hopeful they can make the race competitive this fall .
While there ’ s little polling for either the Democratic or Republican races , the sheer size of the 20-person field is emblematic of the once-in-a-generation opportunity offered by the retirement of a man who held the seat for 36 years .
On the Democratic side , Hammond , Indiana , mayor Thomas McDermott Jr. jumped in the race on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Like fellow Indiana politician former South Bend Mayor Pete Buttigieg , McDermott wants to implement “ Medicare for all who want it.
” He ’ s joined by a gaggle of other candidates on the Democratic side of the ticket .
Visclosky has endorsed North Township Trustee Frank J. Mrvan , son of state Sen. Frank Mrvan .
Frank Mrvan ’ s campaign has said he wants to “ improve access to affordable health care ” and improve the government ’ s emergency response when a crisis happens .
Former secretary of state @ @ @ @ @ @ @ race as is state Rep. Mara Reardon .
Sabrina Haake is challenging McDermott and Mrvan from the left .
She is an attorney from Gary , Indiana , who supports Medicare-for-all .
McDermott has separated himself from the pack with fundraising , having brought in almost $ 600,000 , according to FEC data , but several of his rivals , including Reardon , Mrvan , Haake , and Harper have shown the capacity to raise large amounts of fundraising dollars .
Perhaps the name that will be most familiar to voters in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a carpenter who has been the GOP nominee in each of the last seven election cycles .
Should Levya again be the nominee , he would face a new challenger and one who does not have all the advantages of incumbency , something some of his fellow Republican candidates have stressed .
As he announced his candidacy , Spencer Lemmons , a Hammond police officer on the GOP ballot promised he would be “ the fresh , forward-thinking candidate with the determination and vision Northwest Indiana has not had in decades.
” Indiana @ @ @ @ @ @ @ — but it ’ s still a Democratic target The state ’ s 5th District includes the Indianapolis suburbs , and it has a long history of electing Republicans , a tradition that is expected to continue in 2020 .
Despite that , Democrats have decided to target the race for a potential pick-up this fall .
The Republican race to replace incumbent Brooks , who is currently one of only 16 GOP women in the US House , is quite crowded , with 15 candidates running .
There ’ s little polling @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s hard to say who ’ s favored , but several big names have jumped into the race .
Most of the GOP candidates have scrambled to show support for President Donald Trump , even as they ’ re running to replace the more moderate Brooks .
Indiana Treasurer Kelly Mitchell was once thought to be the front runner , thanks to her statewide name recognition , but the candidate , who is skilled at retail campaigning , has struggled to gain traction as the campaign season ran into the Covid-19 pandemic , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has forced the candidates into a battle for media attention and advertising coverage , giving an advantage to state Sen. Victoria Spartz , who has raised over $ 800,000 as of May 13 , according to FEC data .
She has spent more than double anyone else .
The anti-tax group Club for Growth has endorsed Spartz and subsequently thrown its financial weight behind her candidacy .
Political newcomer Beth Henderson has also gained some traction in the race , raising almost $ 450,000 , though Club for Growth has spent money on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump .
On the Democratic side , former state Rep. Christina Hale has outraised even Spartz , with over $ 1 million .
Having spent only about a half-million dollars on her primary campaign in a five-way race she ’ s expecting to win , she could present a formidable financial challenge to whoever emerges from the GOP 15 candidate bloodbath .
“ It ’ s a long shot , ” William Blomquist , a political science professor at Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis , told Roll Call of the Democrat ’ s chances @ @ @ @ @ @ @ potentially winnable seat.
” Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

Update: Decision Desk called the Republican race for Indiana’s Fifth Congressional District for Victoria Spartz and the Democratic race in Indiana’s Fifth for Christina Hale.
Indiana’s June 2 primary elections will have essentially no bearing on the presidential race, but in two congressional districts, both Democrats and Republicans hope to capitalize on the retirements of long-serving members of the House of Representatives to flip seats held for decades by the opposite party.
In the largely Democratic 1st District, which contains much of the Chicago exurbs in the northwest area of the state, 14 Democrats and six Republicans are running to replace retiring incumbent Peter Visclosky (D-IN), who has been in office since 1984. The state’s 5th District features 15 Republicans and five Democrats competing for the seat left open by incumbent Republican Rep. Susan Brooks who decided not to run for a fifth term.
A large percentage of voters in the state’s primary — which was delayed in March due to the pandemic — are expected to vote by mail. Voters weren't required to state a reason for requesting an absentee ballot, and state election officials reported last week that they had received over 545,935 applications to vote by mail before the May 21 deadline. That’s a dramatic increase from the mere 53,818 mail-in absentee ballots that were cast in the 2016 primary.
Polls close in Indiana at 6 p.m. Eastern, and Vox will have live results for the state’s races in partnership with Decision Desk. As they come in, here’s what you need to know about the 1st and 5th districts — two races to watch:
Indiana’s 1st district hasn’t gone Republican since 1930
The 1st District hasn’t elected a Republican since 1930, and it is rated as “solid Democratic” by the Cook Political Report. But it includes all of Porter and part of LaPorte counties, both of which went for Obama in 2012 but flipped to Trump in 2016, so Republicans are hopeful they can make the race competitive this fall.
While there’s little polling for either the Democratic or Republican races, the sheer size of the 20-person field is emblematic of the once-in-a-generation opportunity offered by the retirement of a man who held the seat for 36 years.
On the Democratic side, Hammond, Indiana, mayor Thomas McDermott Jr. jumped in the race on the day Visclosky announced his retirement. Like fellow Indiana politician former South Bend Mayor Pete Buttigieg, McDermott wants to implement “Medicare for all who want it.” He’s joined by a gaggle of other candidates on the Democratic side of the ticket.
Visclosky has endorsed North Township Trustee Frank J. Mrvan, son of state Sen. Frank Mrvan. Frank Mrvan’s campaign has said he wants to “improve access to affordable health care” and improve the government’s emergency response when a crisis happens.
Former secretary of state candidate Jim Harper is also in the race as is state Rep. Mara Reardon. Sabrina Haake is challenging McDermott and Mrvan from the left. She is an attorney from Gary, Indiana, who supports Medicare-for-all.
McDermott has separated himself from the pack with fundraising, having brought in almost $600,000, according to FEC data, but several of his rivals, including Reardon, Mrvan, Haake, and Harper have shown the capacity to raise large amounts of fundraising dollars.
Perhaps the name that will be most familiar to voters in the six-candidate Republican race is Mark Levya, a carpenter who has been the GOP nominee in each of the last seven election cycles.
Should Levya again be the nominee, he would face a new challenger and one who does not have all the advantages of incumbency, something some of his fellow Republican candidates have stressed.
As he announced his candidacy, Spencer Lemmons, a Hammond police officer on the GOP ballot promised he would be “the fresh, forward-thinking candidate with the determination and vision Northwest Indiana has not had in decades.”
Indiana’s 5th District is strongly Republican — but it’s still a Democratic target
The state’s 5th District includes the Indianapolis suburbs, and it has a long history of electing Republicans, a tradition that is expected to continue in 2020. Despite that, Democrats have decided to target the race for a potential pick-up this fall.
The Republican race to replace incumbent Brooks, who is currently one of only 16 GOP women in the US House, is quite crowded, with 15 candidates running. There’s little polling of the race, so it’s hard to say who’s favored, but several big names have jumped into the race.
Most of the GOP candidates have scrambled to show support for President Donald Trump, even as they’re running to replace the more moderate Brooks. Indiana Treasurer Kelly Mitchell was once thought to be the front runner, thanks to her statewide name recognition, but the candidate, who is skilled at retail campaigning, has struggled to gain traction as the campaign season ran into the Covid-19 pandemic, according to Roll Call.
The pandemic has forced the candidates into a battle for media attention and advertising coverage, giving an advantage to state Sen. Victoria Spartz, who has raised over $800,000 as of May 13, according to FEC data. She has spent more than double anyone else. The anti-tax group Club for Growth has endorsed Spartz and subsequently thrown its financial weight behind her candidacy.
Political newcomer Beth Henderson has also gained some traction in the race, raising almost $450,000, though Club for Growth has spent money on attack ads over her previous criticism of Trump.
On the Democratic side, former state Rep. Christina Hale has outraised even Spartz, with over $1 million. Having spent only about a half-million dollars on her primary campaign in a five-way race she’s expecting to win, she could present a formidable financial challenge to whoever emerges from the GOP 15 candidate bloodbath.
“It’s a long shot,” William Blomquist, a political science professor at Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis, told Roll Call of the Democrat’s chances. “But it’s a potentially winnable seat.”


vox--2020-06-02--The best $149 I ever spent: A FitBit to monitor my heart rate

Every boy dreams of it : growing up to be the youngest man by several decades at cardiac exercise rehabilitation .
So I found myself , at age 23 , gathering three times a week with about a dozen retirees in a medical gym atop a hospital skyscraper to exercise under strict supervision and monitoring .
I had lived independently for five years in New York , and the lifelong serious heart disease I walked around with had stayed manageable all that time .
My disease had been much worse before moving here , and had only been a minor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ replacement or medication change .
I had moved to the city to do the usual things on offer to 18-year-olds : to attend college without a campus , to live a version of city life that only existed in a TV show I didn ’ t like , to build a thick divider between an unpleasant childhood and a more engaging future .
But I hadn ’ t planned for this — standing in a cold , clinical exercise room full of seniors where I looked more like a grandson with a driver @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Our crimes were various health catastrophes : heart attacks , bypass surgery , strokes .
I ’ d done time at cardiac rehab before , years prior , for a general lack of cardiovascular capacity , but this , my second round , resulted from an emergency episode of ventricular tachycardia .
VT is a kind of arrhythmia where the heart appears superficially to be beating incredibly fast , but is actually not really beating at all : only the ventricle pumps , and if nothing is done , cardiac arrest soon @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , then a number of complex procedures , and then in something close to a permanent solution , I had surgery to implant an ICD .
An ICD is a premium pacemaker ( think of it as a two-in-one bundle ) and it stands for “ implanted cardiac defibrillator , ” the main extra feature being the ability to shock the heart if it ever falls spontaneously into similar kinds of arrhythmias .
It ’ s very Magic School Bus , a little bit Honey , I Shrunk the Defibrillator — “ What @ @ @ @ @ @ @ patient ?
” My doctors had concluded that an arrhythmia could happen again at any moment , and thus the permanent micro paddles stitched onto my heart .
If my heart rate spiked above 170 bpm , the device would discharge a shock in 30 seconds .
If it spiked above 200 bpm , the device would zap me instantly .
The only warning I ’ d receive , aside from feeling the arrhythmia , would be some kind of pre-programmed tone pinging from within me like a siren .
I moved slowly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ trying to evade a grid of invisible lasers Starting with the emergency episode , my hours had been occupied by the constant fear of recurrence .
Every ounce of expended energy could raise my heart rate and threaten another emergency .
I moved slowly , carefully , through life as if trying to evade a grid of invisible lasers .
I wouldn ’ t take the subway unless accompanied by a friend , afraid something would happen while alone underground and without a phone signal .
I tried to avoid stairs , but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ walk-up , which made it easier to never leave my apartment .
At first , I was forbidden from exercising because it could instantly kick off another arrhythmia .
But given that physical activity was part of the treatment for my underlying condition , my doctors would want me to begin exercising again relatively soon .
I was never fully dressed until my forefingers were pressed hard into my neck , and I walked around the world like this , looking like a man struggling to hold up his own head .
And @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , once the ICD was in place , the threat of the problem was joined by the danger of its solution .
If another arrhythmia set off , what would happen ?
Would I die ( regrettable , scary ) or would I be rescued by something even more terrifying : an internal , autonomous high-energy electrical shock ?
At exercise rehab , my fear was indulged at comical scale : clusters of flat-screen display monitors hung at four intervals throughout the room , towering over us like leaderboards .
If someone ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , or one of the nipple-like stickers had detached from skin and clung to the inside of someone ’ s shirt , everybody knew .
Alarms sounded gently and one of the nurses would glide over to the patient to figure out the cause .
While my elder classmates failed to keep their jogging khakis out of the cycling gears , I kept my eyes fixed to the screens , waiting for the slightest shift in the steady wave representing my pulse .
My mortal phobia of my own heart rate lessened as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , in the program .
But just as I made progress through safe and controlled physical activity , that very same security became a ceiling .
The insurance of having a perfect read of my pulse didn ’ t follow me through the rest of the world .
Imagining exercising alone and unmonitored , the fear spiked again .
I needed , or believed I needed , some ability to constantly know my pulse , and a quick search took me to all the companies happy to sell me a solution .
First @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a basic heart rate tracker buried under its suite of other features I couldn ’ t imagine using .
At different levels of customization , the price approached the cost of a brand new smartphone .
I ’ d privately vowed years earlier never to get one , owing to the fact that they , like most tech watches , looked goofy , but also because I hated on principle Apple ’ s attempt to monopolize every surface of the body .
They were in our pockets , our ears , now on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had faded from collective memory , I was sure they ’ d next be on our faces .
Then there were many secondary options , mostly cheaper at least , an assortment of companies with somewhat familiar names and their wrist-bound Activity Trackers and Fitness Bands and Running Sensors .
They didn ’ t promise to tell me the weather or store my passwords or check my texts .
Each was uglier than the last .
They were painted in bright , whimsical colors or had big , blocky faces , or both @ @ @ @ @ @ @ someone trying to remotely hack into Willy Wonka ’ s chocolate factory .
They could all technically get the job done , but even ignoring the fashion , something within me was resisting them out of hand .
Eventually , I found the FitBit Alta HR .
The HR stands for “ heart rate ” and , mercifully , that was all it tracked .
It was a slim black wristband with a narrow black face , closer to the rubber charity bracelets that dominated the wrists of the early 2000s than the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cost $ 149 plus tax , which was more disposable income than I had at the time , given that I hadn ’ t been working for months .
I was still on my parents ’ health insurance , and they were covering all of my health expenses , so they offered to buy it for me .
I was ( and am still ) lucky and fortunate for this , to even have the option to solve this problem .
Even so , the purchase felt extravagant and unnecessary .
It was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ medicine from a company that now , three years later , is in the process of being acquired by Google .
As with so many purchases , it prompted me to wonder if this was something I needed , or if I was just a reliable mark .
I wore the bracelet to exercise rehab .
I conducted my own product reliability test , measuring the accuracy of the FitBit ’ s heart rate reading against the medical monitor .
Surprisingly , the two numbers were often the same , or at least @ @ @ @ @ @ @ other .
The FitBit couldn ’ t do anything more complicated than tell me my current heart rate or show me the time .
It couldn ’ t provide a more complicated ECG readout like a medical heart monitor does , and it couldn ’ t decipher more complex heart functions or tell if I was experiencing an arrhythmia .
The bracelet simply read the pulse in my wrist and translated it to a number , just as I ’ d been doing manually for the months before , so in effect , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ work I had already been doing to a machine .
Call it a placebo , maybe , but just knowing the FitBit was able to perform this simple job with near-accuracy made me less anxious about exercising without medical supervision .
In comparison to the real thing , the device was capable of only the bare minimum — yet , somehow , that felt like enough .
The device was capable of only the bare minimum — yet , somehow , that felt like enough When the tachycardia happened , I had been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in my chest that did not end , then a pain from the galloping , then panic .
I turned to my wrists and my neck for the answers , and found nothing .
Total silence .
This is what happens when a heartbeat , which is a cycle of blood movement , does not complete .
In the back of the ambulance , surrounded by EMTs , I was even more alone .
Wanting only to be with family and the people I loved , the presence of strangers made the distance @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the defibrillation pads on to me — one on the chest , one on the back–and started up the machine .
I asked the woman sitting closest to me if she would hold my hand , so I might be slightly less alone , but she couldn ’ t .
“ We can ’ t touch you , ” is actually how she said it .
In seconds , I would be electrically charged , a human conductor .
My own physical touch had never been so dangerous .
In that moment , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I had never experienced .
And in the months after , I became so cautious that , to avoid even the possibility of raising my heart rate , I was at risk of never doing anything again .
Having the FitBit was a form of safety net , an approval to dangle one foot over what I perceived as the edge .
It also externalized what had been a firmly internal problem .
Like trying to see one ’ s own face without a mirror , my heart was frustratingly out of reach @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it functioned totally independent of me .
Visualizing my heart rate gave me a sense of control that , while completely false , allowed me to wrest back the authority I had ceded to it .
It began a cycle : after the class ended , I started exercising on my own again .
I wore the FitBit to the gym , and then when I felt ready to go places that weren ’ t the gym , I wore it there too .
It allowed me to be more active , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the less nervous I became .
Time passed , and I stopped wearing it out in daily life , feeling comfortable enough to go to dinner with a friend or see a movie without constantly checking my pulse .
Eventually , I found myself at the gym without the instinct to check it there either , and became annoyed more often at the rubber sticking to my wrist than I was afraid of lingering death .
The FitBit moved to its next home in a desk drawer after maybe six months of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ didn ’ t need it , my relationship with the FitBit had a purity not normally found in our uses of tech .
Commercial tech is designed for addiction ; companies encourage lifelong engagement by constantly adding features to their products so you have to keep buying the next available model .
This has always bothered me about the integration of wellness into consumer tech products .
Medicine , ideally , is supposed to be an engineer of its own obsolescence .
Good medicine heals you to a point of health , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , modern private medicine and its failures in disease prevention hardly does that either , but wellness tech has eliminated all pretense .
Instead , it wants you to build its products into your life like habits , make daily practices and develop healthy regimens , angling to meld with your idea of your own survival so totally that you think of abandoning one of its products like you ’ d think of quitting a medication cold turkey .
By arming iPhones with step counters and selling watches that promise to help your @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more insidious goals by appearing to serve public health , and they give us readymade justifications for our own purchases .
The FitBit also happened to come along when I was just getting used to a new piece of technology I had no say in adopting .
The ICD was a permanent and unpleasant development in my history with medical tech .
Here was a device that couldn ’ t prevent arrhythmias , only try to stop them once they ’ d begun .
Much like most consumer tech , it was a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hated it , but I needed it .
But I could dictate the terms of my relationship with the FitBit .
I decided if and when I wanted to use it , and more importantly , I could decide when I was done with it .
If I were a real person ( not an actor ! )
inside a commercial , I would , reluctantly , tell the truth : This product gave me my life back .
And I never want to see it again .
Jameson Rich is a writer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ where he is trying not to check his pulse .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

Every boy dreams of it: growing up to be the youngest man by several decades at cardiac exercise rehabilitation. So I found myself, at age 23, gathering three times a week with about a dozen retirees in a medical gym atop a hospital skyscraper to exercise under strict supervision and monitoring.
I had lived independently for five years in New York, and the lifelong serious heart disease I walked around with had stayed manageable all that time. My disease had been much worse before moving here, and had only been a minor factor since, with the occasional pacemaker replacement or medication change.
I had moved to the city to do the usual things on offer to 18-year-olds: to attend college without a campus, to live a version of city life that only existed in a TV show I didn’t like, to build a thick divider between an unpleasant childhood and a more engaging future. But I hadn’t planned for this — standing in a cold, clinical exercise room full of seniors where I looked more like a grandson with a driver’s license than a patient myself.
Our crimes were various health catastrophes: heart attacks, bypass surgery, strokes. I’d done time at cardiac rehab before, years prior, for a general lack of cardiovascular capacity, but this, my second round, resulted from an emergency episode of ventricular tachycardia. VT is a kind of arrhythmia where the heart appears superficially to be beating incredibly fast, but is actually not really beating at all: only the ventricle pumps, and if nothing is done, cardiac arrest soon follows. For me, defibrillation followed, then a number of complex procedures, and then in something close to a permanent solution, I had surgery to implant an ICD.
An ICD is a premium pacemaker (think of it as a two-in-one bundle) and it stands for “implanted cardiac defibrillator,” the main extra feature being the ability to shock the heart if it ever falls spontaneously into similar kinds of arrhythmias. It’s very Magic School Bus, a little bit Honey, I Shrunk the Defibrillator — “What if we put the hospital inside the patient?”
My doctors had concluded that an arrhythmia could happen again at any moment, and thus the permanent micro paddles stitched onto my heart. If my heart rate spiked above 170 bpm, the device would discharge a shock in 30 seconds. If it spiked above 200 bpm, the device would zap me instantly. The only warning I’d receive, aside from feeling the arrhythmia, would be some kind of pre-programmed tone pinging from within me like a siren.
I moved slowly, carefully, through life as if trying to evade a grid of invisible lasers
Starting with the emergency episode, my hours had been occupied by the constant fear of recurrence. Every ounce of expended energy could raise my heart rate and threaten another emergency. I moved slowly, carefully, through life as if trying to evade a grid of invisible lasers.
I wouldn’t take the subway unless accompanied by a friend, afraid something would happen while alone underground and without a phone signal. I tried to avoid stairs, but I lived at the top of a walk-up, which made it easier to never leave my apartment. At first, I was forbidden from exercising because it could instantly kick off another arrhythmia. But given that physical activity was part of the treatment for my underlying condition, my doctors would want me to begin exercising again relatively soon.
I was never fully dressed until my forefingers were pressed hard into my neck, and I walked around the world like this, looking like a man struggling to hold up his own head. And because one debilitating fear is never enough, once the ICD was in place, the threat of the problem was joined by the danger of its solution. If another arrhythmia set off, what would happen? Would I die (regrettable, scary) or would I be rescued by something even more terrifying: an internal, autonomous high-energy electrical shock?
At exercise rehab, my fear was indulged at comical scale: clusters of flat-screen display monitors hung at four intervals throughout the room, towering over us like leaderboards. If someone’s heart rate was climbing too high, or one of the nipple-like stickers had detached from skin and clung to the inside of someone’s shirt, everybody knew. Alarms sounded gently and one of the nurses would glide over to the patient to figure out the cause. While my elder classmates failed to keep their jogging khakis out of the cycling gears, I kept my eyes fixed to the screens, waiting for the slightest shift in the steady wave representing my pulse.
My mortal phobia of my own heart rate lessened as I reached one month, then two, in the program. But just as I made progress through safe and controlled physical activity, that very same security became a ceiling. The insurance of having a perfect read of my pulse didn’t follow me through the rest of the world. Imagining exercising alone and unmonitored, the fear spiked again. I needed, or believed I needed, some ability to constantly know my pulse, and a quick search took me to all the companies happy to sell me a solution.
First came the Apple Watch, which had a basic heart rate tracker buried under its suite of other features I couldn’t imagine using. At different levels of customization, the price approached the cost of a brand new smartphone. I’d privately vowed years earlier never to get one, owing to the fact that they, like most tech watches, looked goofy, but also because I hated on principle Apple’s attempt to monopolize every surface of the body. They were in our pockets, our ears, now on our wrists, and once Google Glass had faded from collective memory, I was sure they’d next be on our faces.
Then there were many secondary options, mostly cheaper at least, an assortment of companies with somewhat familiar names and their wrist-bound Activity Trackers and Fitness Bands and Running Sensors. They didn’t promise to tell me the weather or store my passwords or check my texts. Each was uglier than the last. They were painted in bright, whimsical colors or had big, blocky faces, or both, as if their ideal customer was someone trying to remotely hack into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. They could all technically get the job done, but even ignoring the fashion, something within me was resisting them out of hand.
Eventually, I found the FitBit Alta HR. The HR stands for “heart rate” and, mercifully, that was all it tracked. It was a slim black wristband with a narrow black face, closer to the rubber charity bracelets that dominated the wrists of the early 2000s than the arm-bound supercomputers walking around now. It cost $149 plus tax, which was more disposable income than I had at the time, given that I hadn’t been working for months. I was still on my parents’ health insurance, and they were covering all of my health expenses, so they offered to buy it for me. I was (and am still) lucky and fortunate for this, to even have the option to solve this problem.
Even so, the purchase felt extravagant and unnecessary. It was health care that wasn’t, medicine from a company that now, three years later, is in the process of being acquired by Google. As with so many purchases, it prompted me to wonder if this was something I needed, or if I was just a reliable mark.
I wore the bracelet to exercise rehab. I conducted my own product reliability test, measuring the accuracy of the FitBit’s heart rate reading against the medical monitor. Surprisingly, the two numbers were often the same, or at least within a point or two of each other.
The FitBit couldn’t do anything more complicated than tell me my current heart rate or show me the time. It couldn’t provide a more complicated ECG readout like a medical heart monitor does, and it couldn’t decipher more complex heart functions or tell if I was experiencing an arrhythmia.
The bracelet simply read the pulse in my wrist and translated it to a number, just as I’d been doing manually for the months before, so in effect, I had paid to outsource the same work I had already been doing to a machine. Call it a placebo, maybe, but just knowing the FitBit was able to perform this simple job with near-accuracy made me less anxious about exercising without medical supervision. In comparison to the real thing, the device was capable of only the bare minimum — yet, somehow, that felt like enough.
The device was capable of only the bare minimum — yet, somehow, that felt like enough
When the tachycardia happened, I had been alone. It started with a galloping in my chest that did not end, then a pain from the galloping, then panic. I turned to my wrists and my neck for the answers, and found nothing. Total silence. This is what happens when a heartbeat, which is a cycle of blood movement, does not complete. In the back of the ambulance, surrounded by EMTs, I was even more alone. Wanting only to be with family and the people I loved, the presence of strangers made the distance between us more obvious. They put the defibrillation pads on to me — one on the chest, one on the back–and started up the machine.
I asked the woman sitting closest to me if she would hold my hand, so I might be slightly less alone, but she couldn’t. “We can’t touch you,” is actually how she said it. In seconds, I would be electrically charged, a human conductor. My own physical touch had never been so dangerous.
In that moment, I was acutely vulnerable in a way I had never experienced. And in the months after, I became so cautious that, to avoid even the possibility of raising my heart rate, I was at risk of never doing anything again. Having the FitBit was a form of safety net, an approval to dangle one foot over what I perceived as the edge. It also externalized what had been a firmly internal problem. Like trying to see one’s own face without a mirror, my heart was frustratingly out of reach. It was inside me, yet it functioned totally independent of me. Visualizing my heart rate gave me a sense of control that, while completely false, allowed me to wrest back the authority I had ceded to it.
It began a cycle: after the class ended, I started exercising on my own again. I wore the FitBit to the gym, and then when I felt ready to go places that weren’t the gym, I wore it there too. It allowed me to be more active, and the more time that I spent active, the less nervous I became.
Time passed, and I stopped wearing it out in daily life, feeling comfortable enough to go to dinner with a friend or see a movie without constantly checking my pulse. Eventually, I found myself at the gym without the instinct to check it there either, and became annoyed more often at the rubber sticking to my wrist than I was afraid of lingering death. The FitBit moved to its next home in a desk drawer after maybe six months of use.
Having used it until I didn’t need it, my relationship with the FitBit had a purity not normally found in our uses of tech. Commercial tech is designed for addiction; companies encourage lifelong engagement by constantly adding features to their products so you have to keep buying the next available model. This has always bothered me about the integration of wellness into consumer tech products. Medicine, ideally, is supposed to be an engineer of its own obsolescence. Good medicine heals you to a point of health, and then lets you be. Of course, modern private medicine and its failures in disease prevention hardly does that either, but wellness tech has eliminated all pretense.
Instead, it wants you to build its products into your life like habits, make daily practices and develop healthy regimens, angling to meld with your idea of your own survival so totally that you think of abandoning one of its products like you’d think of quitting a medication cold turkey. By arming iPhones with step counters and selling watches that promise to help your sleep patterns, tech companies cover their more insidious goals by appearing to serve public health, and they give us readymade justifications for our own purchases.
The FitBit also happened to come along when I was just getting used to a new piece of technology I had no say in adopting. The ICD was a permanent and unpleasant development in my history with medical tech. Here was a device that couldn’t prevent arrhythmias, only try to stop them once they’d begun. Much like most consumer tech, it was a solution waiting for a problem. I hated it, but I needed it.
But I could dictate the terms of my relationship with the FitBit. I decided if and when I wanted to use it, and more importantly, I could decide when I was done with it. If I were a real person (not an actor!) inside a commercial, I would, reluctantly, tell the truth: This product gave me my life back. And I never want to see it again.
Jameson Rich is a writer and video producer in New York, where he is trying not to check his pulse.


vox--2020-06-02--When police officers are told they’re in a war, they act like it

Patrick Skinner spent a decade running counterterrorism operations overseas for the CIA .
He worked in Afghanistan , Iraq , and Jordan ; met with kings and presidents ; rose through the ranks .
But he came to believe he was part of the problem , that the very premise of the work was flawed .
So he came home , and joined the police force in Savannah , Georgia , where he grew up .
I first learned about Skinner in a New Yorker profile .
Then a friend mentioned his Twitter feed to me : There , Skinner @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stream , on the work of policing , the importance of treating your neighbors like neighbors , the daily work of deescalation , and the behavior of his menagerie of pets .
Skinner has been particularly outspoken in the aftermath of George Floyd ’ s death .
“ We have to change our profession , ” he wrote .
“ We aren ’ t warriors .
We aren ’ t at war with our neighbors.
” I spoke with Skinner by phone on Sunday .
He emphasized that his views are his own @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on behalf of his department , or all police .
But what he has to say is , I think , important .
A transcript of our conversation , edited for length and clarity , follows .
What did you see when you watched the video of George Floyd ’ s death ?
A murder .
No semantics .
No justification .
They just killed that guy .
I drove home and in a six-minute commute , I was in tears .
And it was that I saw the other cops in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like me .
They were stopping the bystanders , telling them to get back .
It ’ s not just that this cop did this .
The other cops stopped anyone from stopping him .
What should they have done ?
They should have arrested the cop !
Ideally , you ’ d just push the cop off .
Tell him to knock it off .
That would ’ ve ended it .
When people have handcuffs on , they are legally in your custody .
You have to care for them .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
If someone is kicking the windows out of the car , which I ’ ve had done , you need to take them out of the car .
You need to do something .
But this wasn ’ t that .
And even if there had been , there was no justification .
He just sat on his back .
Floyd said he was dying , and he died .
If a police officer sees another police officer doing that , they are bound to stop him .
I could see that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he keeps looking back at what ’ s happening .
The people in the community are yelling .
They ’ re saying , “ You ’ re killing him.
” You can see this cop — I want to be charitable , he was torn , but he wasn ’ t torn enough to act .
The crime had switched from counterfeit [ Floyd was suspected of trying to pass a fake $ 20 bill ] to an assault .
And the assaulter was the cop .
There is nothing to say @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the past couple of nights , as you ’ ve seen the collisions between police and protesters , what has that looked like to you ?
It looks like what we designed .
I ’ m a big believer that the police shouldn ’ t act like the military .
We shouldn ’ t dress like the military .
We shouldn ’ t have military weapons .
When you can ’ t tell the difference between the police and the National Guard , that ’ s a big problem .
But police have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of that .
And I ’ m sympathetic to the police .
When a protest tips into a riot , when you have thousands of people who ’ re screaming , and it ’ s a visceral , pulsing thing , it ’ s terrifying .
But the whole point is you can defuse it .
And the time for deescalation is years ahead of that .
And a lot of places aren ’ t doing that .
So the police are now in a terrible position .
Ninety-nine percent of the people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a protest , not a parade .
For anything to change , there has to be annoyance and conflict .
I get that .
But the people who are throwing rocks and bricks and setting fires , that ’ s a big deal .
And then the focus will quickly be on how to handle people setting fires .
It ’ s sad .
It ’ s already happening .
We ’ re already talking about the response to the riots , not the cause of the protests .
You did counterinsurgency work @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the CIA .
how much of that thinking do you see here ?
How much are American communities treated like an internal insurgency that needs to be restrained ?
I see it 100 percent .
It ’ s the same thing .
I got more hazard pay over there , I guess .
We spent so much money to do so much damage .
We kept saying we needed the community on our side , but everything we did made sure we wouldn ’ t get the community on our side .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ into whoever supported us .
We go for the leader or alleged leader who agrees with us most .
We ’ re trying to say we ’ re in a war zone , but they should like us .
The answer overseas was to leave .
If you don ’ t want to be seen as an occupying army , don ’ t occupy the country .
But we live here .
We can ’ t leave .
You write often about policing with “ neighbor ” mindset and training others to do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
It ’ s the exact opposite .
I don ’ t think of it as a mindset ; I just think of it as a truth .
The neighbor mindset sounds so cheesy , but it ’ s so powerful : We all matter or none of us do .
I live here .
I can ’ t know everybody in Savannah .
But I call everyone my neighbor , because they literally are .
And I can ’ t put my knee on the neck of my neighbor .
He might @ @ @ @ @ @ @ But you don ’ t sit for eight minutes with your knee on the neck of your neighbor .
I do a lot of recruit training and I say : This is not semantics .
If they ’ re your neighbors , you can ’ t treat them this way .
There ’ s going to be a task force and recommendations , and they ’ ll sound really good .
But a friend told me once : Grand gestures are for assholes .
You need to do the right thing every day @ @ @ @ @ @ @ built off a thousand days of not being an asshole .
That ’ s what buys you time .
But this is not a training issue .
People want it so badly to be an issue of training .
Training is part of it .
We train for our goals .
Our goal is a war on crime .
And we ’ re getting a war .
I saw the war on terror ; it was horrible .
Now I see the war on crime , and it ’ s just as bad @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and all of the worst instances of police violence are justified by fear : fear that police have that they ’ ll be shot on a stop , that they need to act like soldiers because they are in a war even if the rest of us aren ’ t .
How do you think about that ?
Last year , my sergeant was murdered on the job .
There is no lesson to be learned from that .
What happened was a bad guy jumped out of the car and shot him @ @ @ @ @ @ @ isn ’ t to approach everyone with a gun out .
I ’ m a training officer now .
I always ask : If you didn ’ t have a badge and a gun , how would you handle that situation ?
Because I guarantee you , if you walk into that situation with your gun and badge out , you ’ ll use them .
People kill cops , they do .
But we are teaching ourselves to be afraid .
In my experience , the closer I get to people , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the idea that everyone wants to kill us .
And if I get killed , I ’ ll be able to say , at least I didn ’ t handle 99.9 percent of calls wrong .
I ’ ve seen you talk about “ intentionality ” as a key to good policing .
What intentions do you bring to a stop ?
Our job is not to bring more drama into the situation .
We speed to an uncertainty and jump out and act with certainty ; it ’ s crazy .
If @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s easy , I take cover .
But when we get into these environments where people are screaming , we just need to slow down .
The information in 911 calls is almost always wrong .
And I hate when people say there ’ s no time to think .
We ’ re the ones rushing into it .
We ’ re amped up on adrenaline .
We show up and immediately [ start ] telling people to do stuff .
I find it very beneficial to just ask , “ What @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wrote on Twitter that “ The time for de-escalation is long before the riot ... My job is to work with my neighbors every single day to reduce the fuel/dry tinder that catches fire from a spark.
” How do you do that ?
I remember I saw a bunch of people in a car .
It was three other people .
They saw me and really quickly put on their seatbelts .
So I started laughing and made a big show of putting on my seatbelt .
And we all giggled and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can ’ t treat people like an ATM machine , and that ’ s what other departments have done .
They fine them for everything .
But we have no idea , a lot of the time , what ’ s going on .
And unless you ’ re shooting at me , I can take some time to figure it out .
You said earlier you ’ re not optimistic a task force will change any of this .
So how does it change ?
What needs to happen ?
People need @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
That ’ s what they need to accept .
Our training is spot on : We ’ re in a war on crime , and it ’ s us versus them , and our neighbors are sheep we need to protect .
You hear the term civilians .
I thought we were all civilians !
Our training fits the mindset .
The question we need to ask is : What ’ s the point ?
What do we want to see happen ?
It ’ s about what we expect the police @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of all police on the planet , I ’ d say there ’ s a ceasefire in the war on crime .
We ’ re going to work for the 99 percent of people instead of against the 1 percent .
Most 911 calls I go to are not crimes .
They may become crimes , but our job is to stop it .
We ’ re taught that it ’ s a war .
It ’ s not .
But it ’ s becoming a war .
We are the action arm @ @ @ @ @ @ @ doesn ’ t exist in isolation .
America has the police force that it votes for , that it funds .
This system is what we set up .
We spent a lot of money and a lot of time over hundreds of years to have this police force .
We are trained for what we ’ re hired for , and what we ’ re hired for is war .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider @ @ @ @ @ @ @

Patrick Skinner spent a decade running counterterrorism operations overseas for the CIA. He worked in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Jordan; met with kings and presidents; rose through the ranks. But he came to believe he was part of the problem, that the very premise of the work was flawed. So he came home, and joined the police force in Savannah, Georgia, where he grew up.
I first learned about Skinner in a New Yorker profile. Then a friend mentioned his Twitter feed to me: There, Skinner reflects, in a thoughtful, continual stream, on the work of policing, the importance of treating your neighbors like neighbors, the daily work of deescalation, and the behavior of his menagerie of pets.
Skinner has been particularly outspoken in the aftermath of George Floyd’s death. “We have to change our profession,” he wrote. “We aren’t warriors. We aren’t at war with our neighbors.”
I spoke with Skinner by phone on Sunday. He emphasized that his views are his own, and he wasn’t speaking on behalf of his department or all police. But what he has to say is, I think, important. A transcript of our conversation, edited for length and clarity, follows.
Ezra Klein
What did you see when you watched the video of George Floyd’s death?
Patrick Skinner
A murder. No semantics. No justification. They just killed that guy. I drove home and in a six-minute commute, I was in tears. And it was that I saw the other cops in the video. One of them even looked like me. They were stopping the bystanders, telling them to get back. It’s not just that this cop did this. The other cops stopped anyone from stopping him.
Ezra Klein
What should they have done?
Patrick Skinner
They should have arrested the cop! Ideally, you’d just push the cop off. Tell him to knock it off. That would’ve ended it. When people have handcuffs on, they are legally in your custody. You have to care for them. What happens to them is your fault. If someone is kicking the windows out of the car, which I’ve had done, you need to take them out of the car. You need to do something. But this wasn’t that. And even if there had been, there was no justification. He just sat on his back. Floyd said he was dying, and he died.
If a police officer sees another police officer doing that, they are bound to stop him. I could see that cop, who was younger than me, he keeps looking back at what’s happening. The people in the community are yelling. They’re saying, “You’re killing him.” You can see this cop — I want to be charitable, he was torn, but he wasn’t torn enough to act. The crime had switched from counterfeit [Floyd was suspected of trying to pass a fake $20 bill] to an assault. And the assaulter was the cop. There is nothing to say to justify it. Nothing.
Ezra Klein
Over the past couple of nights, as you’ve seen the collisions between police and protesters, what has that looked like to you?
Patrick Skinner
It looks like what we designed. I’m a big believer that the police shouldn’t act like the military. We shouldn’t dress like the military. We shouldn’t have military weapons. When you can’t tell the difference between the police and the National Guard, that’s a big problem. But police have been militarized. This is the result of that. And I’m sympathetic to the police. When a protest tips into a riot, when you have thousands of people who’re screaming, and it’s a visceral, pulsing thing, it’s terrifying. But the whole point is you can defuse it. And the time for deescalation is years ahead of that. And a lot of places aren’t doing that.
So the police are now in a terrible position. Ninety-nine percent of the people are protesting. And it’s a protest, not a parade. For anything to change, there has to be annoyance and conflict. I get that. But the people who are throwing rocks and bricks and setting fires, that’s a big deal. And then the focus will quickly be on how to handle people setting fires. It’s sad. It’s already happening. We’re already talking about the response to the riots, not the cause of the protests.
Ezra Klein
You did counterinsurgency work overseas for a decade, as part of the CIA. How much of that thinking do you see here? How much are American communities treated like an internal insurgency that needs to be restrained?
Patrick Skinner
I see it 100 percent. It’s the same thing. I got more hazard pay over there, I guess. We spent so much money to do so much damage. We kept saying we needed the community on our side, but everything we did made sure we wouldn’t get the community on our side. We put all our efforts and money into whoever supported us. We go for the leader or alleged leader who agrees with us most. We’re trying to say we’re in a war zone, but they should like us. The answer overseas was to leave. If you don’t want to be seen as an occupying army, don’t occupy the country. But we live here. We can’t leave.
Ezra Klein
You write often about policing with “neighbor” mindset and training others to do the same. What is neighbor mindset?
Patrick Skinner
It’s the exact opposite. I don’t think of it as a mindset; I just think of it as a truth. The neighbor mindset sounds so cheesy, but it’s so powerful: We all matter or none of us do. I live here. I can’t know everybody in Savannah. But I call everyone my neighbor, because they literally are. And I can’t put my knee on the neck of my neighbor. He might resist arrest. I get that. But you don’t sit for eight minutes with your knee on the neck of your neighbor.
I do a lot of recruit training and I say: This is not semantics. If they’re your neighbors, you can’t treat them this way. There’s going to be a task force and recommendations, and they’ll sound really good. But a friend told me once: Grand gestures are for assholes. You need to do the right thing every day. You need the kind of connection built off a thousand days of not being an asshole. That’s what buys you time.
But this is not a training issue. People want it so badly to be an issue of training. Training is part of it. We train for our goals. Our goal is a war on crime. And we’re getting a war. I saw the war on terror; it was horrible. Now I see the war on crime, and it’s just as bad.
Ezra Klein
A lot of the war-on-crime mindset and all of the worst instances of police violence are justified by fear: fear that police have that they’ll be shot on a stop, that they need to act like soldiers because they are in a war even if the rest of us aren’t. How do you think about that?
Patrick Skinner
Last year, my sergeant was murdered on the job. There is no lesson to be learned from that. What happened was a bad guy jumped out of the car and shot him in the stomach. But the lesson isn’t to approach everyone with a gun out.
I’m a training officer now. I always ask: If you didn’t have a badge and a gun, how would you handle that situation? Because I guarantee you, if you walk into that situation with your gun and badge out, you’ll use them. People kill cops, they do. But we are teaching ourselves to be afraid. In my experience, the closer I get to people, the safer I am. I reject the idea that everyone wants to kill us. And if I get killed, I’ll be able to say, at least I didn’t handle 99.9 percent of calls wrong.
Ezra Klein
I’ve seen you talk about “intentionality” as a key to good policing. What intentions do you bring to a stop?
Patrick Skinner
Our job is not to bring more drama into the situation. We speed to an uncertainty and jump out and act with certainty; it’s crazy. If someone is shooting at me, that’s easy, I take cover. But when we get into these environments where people are screaming, we just need to slow down. The information in 911 calls is almost always wrong. And I hate when people say there’s no time to think. We’re the ones rushing into it. We’re amped up on adrenaline. We show up and immediately [start] telling people to do stuff. I find it very beneficial to just ask, “What’s going on?”
Ezra Klein
You wrote on Twitter that “The time for de-escalation is long before the riot ... My job is to work with my neighbors every single day to reduce the fuel/dry tinder that catches fire from a spark.” How do you do that?
Patrick Skinner
I remember I saw a bunch of people in a car. It was three other people. They saw me and really quickly put on their seatbelts. So I started laughing and made a big show of putting on my seatbelt. And we all giggled and no one got a ticket. You can’t treat people like an ATM machine, and that’s what other departments have done. They fine them for everything. But we have no idea, a lot of the time, what’s going on. And unless you’re shooting at me, I can take some time to figure it out.
Ezra Klein
You said earlier you’re not optimistic a task force will change any of this. So how does it change? What needs to happen?
Patrick Skinner
People need to imagine the end of a war. That’s what they need to accept. Our training is spot on: We’re in a war on crime, and it’s us versus them, and our neighbors are sheep we need to protect. You hear the term civilians. I thought we were all civilians! Our training fits the mindset.
The question we need to ask is: What’s the point? What do we want to see happen? It’s about what we expect the police to do. If I was commissioner of all police on the planet, I’d say there’s a ceasefire in the war on crime. We’re going to work for the 99 percent of people instead of against the 1 percent. Most 911 calls I go to are not crimes. They may become crimes, but our job is to stop it. We’re taught that it’s a war. It’s not. But it’s becoming a war.
We are the action arm for a fucked-up national mindset. This doesn’t exist in isolation. America has the police force that it votes for, that it funds. This system is what we set up. We spent a lot of money and a lot of time over hundreds of years to have this police force. We are trained for what we’re hired for, and what we’re hired for is war.


vox--2020-06-01--Trump used a damaged DC church for a photo op. The bishop is furious.

The Right Rev .
Mariann Budde , the Episcopal bishop for Washington , DC , condemned President Trump shortly after law enforcement officers used tear gas and rubber bullets to disperse a peaceful protest — all so that Trump could have a photo op in front of a church .
Sunday night , as large groups of peaceful protesters and much smaller groups of less peaceful demonstrators filled the streets of DC , a fire was set in the basement of St. John ’ s Church , an Episcopal church located near the White House .
The fire was extinguished @ @ @ @ @ @ @ minor damage .
Nevertheless , Trump decided to visit the church Monday evening and stand outside it while holding a Bible .
Shortly before this visit , he delivered a brief address that quickly slipped into authoritarian rhetoric .
“ If a city or state refuses to take the actions necessary to defend the life and property of their residents , ” Trump proclaimed , “ then I will deploy the United States military and quickly solve the problem for them.
” Around the same time that Trump began this address , protesters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the White House .
But they were cleared out of the park by federal law enforcement officers , who used tear gas and rubber bullets to remove the crowd .
Several minutes later , Trump emerged from the White House to have his photo op in front of the nearby church .
In response to this incident , Budde told the Washington Post that she is “ outraged ” by the president ’ s actions .
“ I am the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington and was not given even a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with tear gas so they could use one of our churches as a prop , ” Budde told the Post .
She also denounced Trump for holding a Bible “ that declares that God is love and when everything he has said and done is to enflame violence.
” Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ through understanding .
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Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
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The Right Rev. Mariann Budde, the Episcopal bishop for Washington, DC, condemned President Trump shortly after law enforcement officers used tear gas and rubber bullets to disperse a peaceful protest — all so that Trump could have a photo op in front of a church.
Sunday night, as large groups of peaceful protesters and much smaller groups of less peaceful demonstrators filled the streets of DC, a fire was set in the basement of St. John’s Church, an Episcopal church located near the White House. The fire was extinguished, and the church reportedly suffered only minor damage.
Nevertheless, Trump decided to visit the church Monday evening and stand outside it while holding a Bible. Shortly before this visit, he delivered a brief address that quickly slipped into authoritarian rhetoric. “If a city or state refuses to take the actions necessary to defend the life and property of their residents,” Trump proclaimed, “then I will deploy the United States military and quickly solve the problem for them.”
Related Trump threatens to send the US military to quash protests
Around the same time that Trump began this address, protesters were peacefully gathered in Lafayette Park near the White House. But they were cleared out of the park by federal law enforcement officers, who used tear gas and rubber bullets to remove the crowd.
Several minutes later, Trump emerged from the White House to have his photo op in front of the nearby church.
In response to this incident, Budde told the Washington Post that she is “outraged” by the president’s actions. “I am the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington and was not given even a courtesy call that they would be clearing with tear gas so they could use one of our churches as a prop,” Budde told the Post.
She also denounced Trump for holding a Bible “that declares that God is love and when everything he has said and done is to enflame violence.”


vox--2020-06-02--US Park Police denies using tear gas on peaceful protesters. Evidence suggests otherwise.

Nearly 24 hours after law enforcement used force to push peaceful demonstrators away from the White House to make way for presidential photo op , the US Park Police offered a statement on its involvement — and it raises a lot more questions than it answers .
On Monday , Park Police — along with members of the US Secret Service and the National Guard — dispersed a large crowd of protesters using what reporters and other witnesses on the ground said was tear gas and rubber bullets , harming demonstrators and journalists alike .
Minutes later , President Donald @ @ @ @ @ @ @ White House Rose Garden then walked through an emptied Lafayette Square to a nearby church to take pictures with a Bible .
Video of the chaotic scene spread quickly on social media and news outlets , sparking outrage .
On Tuesday afternoon , the US Park Police ( USPP ) responded to the criticisms .
“ At approximately 6:33 pm , violent protestors on H Street NW began throwing projectiles including bricks , frozen water bottles and caustic liquids , ” acting Chief Gregory Monahan said in the official statement .
“ Intelligence @ @ @ @ @ @ @ police , and officers found caches of glass bottles , baseball bats and metal poles hidden along the street.
” “ No tear gas was used by USPP officers or other assisting law enforcement partners to close the area at Lafayette Park , ” he continued .
To be clear : Monahan is claiming the protesters amassed near the White House were “ violent , ” that they were perhaps plotting some kind of attack of their own , and that no federal officials whatsoever used tear gas to disperse the demonstration .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ evidence , from numerous videos taken at the scene to reports from witnesses and journalists who were on the ground at the time , shows otherwise .
Why the Park Police ’ s statement is dubious Let ’ s start with Monahan ’ s claim that the protesters were “ violent ” because they were throwing projectiles at law enforcement .
According to multiple reporters who were on the ground documenting the events , the protests were entirely peaceful .
“ We didn ’ t see projectiles thrown at police .
Certainly no @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Alexander Marquardt , a CNN reporter who was at Lafayette Square that evening , tweeted on Tuesday .
In fact , in this Reuters video taken of nearly the entire scene , there are no violent instances of what the Park Police statement describes ( other than some expletives and insults lobbed at law enforcement ) .
Washington , DC , Mayor Muriel Bowser also publicly stated that the demonstrators protested peacefully .
It ’ s unclear , then , what the Park Police is referencing .
Perhaps it ’ s an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ official told the Washington Post on Tuesday : that some crowd members passed rocks among themselves and threw a bottle in the direction of Attorney General Bill Barr .
Barr , a top Trump ally , was surveying the scene and reportedly personally ordered law enforcement to push the protesters back .
There ’ s also no direct evidence that protesters were hiding caches of weapons — glass bottles , bats , and metal poles , according to the statement — to use against law enforcement .
If there are images showing that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ site of the demonstration , as the Park Police claim , they haven ’ t been shared with the public .
Finally , there ’ s the assertion that Park Police and other law enforcement personnel involved that evening didn ’ t use tear gas to clear the square .
This has become one of the most contentious points in the entire saga , even though Monahan acknowledges in the statement that the officers did use smoke canisters and pepper balls ( pepper spray projectiles ) against the protesters .
“ Tear gas @ @ @ @ @ @ @ defined as a synthetic chemical irritant .
Pepper spray is a naturally derived chemical irritant that causes many effects similar to that of common types of tear gas , including temporary blindness and a burning sensation in the nose .
Which means that , even if tear gas was technically not used — a claim that isn ’ t settled fact for reasons I ’ ll get into in a minute — police still used a very similar chemical weapon against peaceful protesters .
Still , facts matter , so the question of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is important .
Nathan Baca , a reporter for WUSA9 in Washington , DC , picked up a canister used during the Monday assault .
It ’ s not a smoke canister , but it does launch “ OC ” gas which “ Causes same tears , tight breath and comes out green , ” he reported .
Other journalists who covered the protests in person that evening say without a doubt that law enforcement used tear gas , a chemical irritant that can cause those exposed to it to want to vomit @ @ @ @ @ @ @ video also complain they were directly hit with tear gas .
Moreover , Washington Post reporters at the demonstration , including metro reporter Rebecca Tan , photographed National Guard members ( though not Park Police officers ) wearing gas masks , “ moments before authorities started firing.
” That certainly suggests they were preparing to deploy tear gas .
The Trump reelection campaign , though , is sticking with the Park Police , asking reporters — including me — to “ retract and correct ” published stories that say tear gas was used @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a lie can get halfway around the world before the truth can get its pants on .
This tear gas lie is proof of that , ” Tim Murtaugh , the Trump campaign ’ s communications director , said in a Tuesday evening statement .
The Park Police has a lot more explaining to do .
Monahan ’ s statement by itself doesn ’ t clear up any of the main contention points .
But what it does do is further confirm that Park Police felt it was necessary to respond to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ could have a photo op .
That , perhaps more than dubious claims in the official statement , is the most damning part of all .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our @ @ @ @ @ @ @ — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

Nearly 24 hours after law enforcement used force to push peaceful demonstrators away from the White House to make way for presidential photo op, the US Park Police offered a statement on its involvement — and it raises a lot more questions than it answers.
On Monday, Park Police — along with members of the US Secret Service and the National Guard — dispersed a large crowd of protesters using what reporters and other witnesses on the ground said was tear gas and rubber bullets, harming demonstrators and journalists alike.
Minutes later, President Donald Trump gave a brief speech in the White House Rose Garden then walked through an emptied Lafayette Square to a nearby church to take pictures with a Bible.
Video of the chaotic scene spread quickly on social media and news outlets, sparking outrage. On Tuesday afternoon, the US Park Police (USPP) responded to the criticisms.
“At approximately 6:33 pm, violent protestors on H Street NW began throwing projectiles including bricks, frozen water bottles and caustic liquids,” acting Chief Gregory Monahan said in the official statement. “Intelligence had revealed calls for violence against the police, and officers found caches of glass bottles, baseball bats and metal poles hidden along the street.”
“No tear gas was used by USPP officers or other assisting law enforcement partners to close the area at Lafayette Park,” he continued.
US Park Police (@usparkpolicepio) calls protesters in Lafayette Square on June 1 "violent." pic.twitter.com/0ocmykeb9e — Alex Ward (@AlexWardVox) June 2, 2020
To be clear: Monahan is claiming the protesters amassed near the White House were “violent,” that they were perhaps plotting some kind of attack of their own, and that no federal officials whatsoever used tear gas to disperse the demonstration.
But the problem is all the available evidence, from numerous videos taken at the scene to reports from witnesses and journalists who were on the ground at the time, shows otherwise.
Why the Park Police’s statement is dubious
Let’s start with Monahan’s claim that the protesters were “violent” because they were throwing projectiles at law enforcement.
According to multiple reporters who were on the ground documenting the events, the protests were entirely peaceful. “We didn’t see projectiles thrown at police. Certainly no bricks or ‘caustic liquids,’” Alexander Marquardt, a CNN reporter who was at Lafayette Square that evening, tweeted on Tuesday.
In fact, in this Reuters video taken of nearly the entire scene, there are no violent instances of what the Park Police statement describes (other than some expletives and insults lobbed at law enforcement).
Washington, DC, Mayor Muriel Bowser also publicly stated that the demonstrators protested peacefully.
It’s unclear, then, what the Park Police is referencing. Perhaps it’s an exaggeration of what an unnamed Justice Department official told the Washington Post on Tuesday: that some crowd members passed rocks among themselves and threw a bottle in the direction of Attorney General Bill Barr. Barr, a top Trump ally, was surveying the scene and reportedly personally ordered law enforcement to push the protesters back.
There’s also no direct evidence that protesters were hiding caches of weapons — glass bottles, bats, and metal poles, according to the statement — to use against law enforcement. If there are images showing that such items were indeed found on the site of the demonstration, as the Park Police claim, they haven’t been shared with the public.
Finally, there’s the assertion that Park Police and other law enforcement personnel involved that evening didn’t use tear gas to clear the square.
This has become one of the most contentious points in the entire saga, even though Monahan acknowledges in the statement that the officers did use smoke canisters and pepper balls (pepper spray projectiles) against the protesters.
This is what happened on the other side of the White House only 5 minutes before President Trump began remarks in the Rose Garden. pic.twitter.com/n3UNLTBAKn — Allie Malloy (@AlliemalCNN) June 1, 2020
“Tear gas” is a broad term, often defined as a synthetic chemical irritant. Pepper spray is a naturally derived chemical irritant that causes many effects similar to that of common types of tear gas, including temporary blindness and a burning sensation in the nose. Which means that, even if tear gas was technically not used — a claim that isn’t settled fact for reasons I’ll get into in a minute — police still used a very similar chemical weapon against peaceful protesters.
Still, facts matter, so the question of whether they used tear gas or not is important.
Nathan Baca, a reporter for WUSA9 in Washington, DC, picked up a canister used during the Monday assault. It’s not a smoke canister, but it does launch “OC” gas which “Causes same tears, tight breath and comes out green,” he reported.
When @usparkpolicepio says they didn’t use “CS or CN” tear gas, technically that’s correct. “OC” gas cannisters used instead. Causes same tears, tight breath and comes out green. This is not a smoke canister. I picked this off the street after it was launched at us Monday. pic.twitter.com/UuGJy0A6cr — Nathan Baca (@NathanBacaTV) June 3, 2020
Other journalists who covered the protests in person that evening say without a doubt that law enforcement used tear gas, a chemical irritant that can cause those exposed to it to want to vomit.
Hi Laura. Park Police are the ones with the blue helmets in this clip, part of a clearly coordinated advance. You can also see the many colors of gas and people reacting in real time. Please have more respect for your audience than this. https://t.co/ybbEQD0Fl8 — Hunter Walker (@hunterw) June 2, 2020
This "no tear gas" angle is ridiculous. I was in the middle of a crowd coughing up a lung. All sort of projectiles were being fired at a peaceful crowd. I just watched our raw video from 6:35-7pm. Protesters had taken a knee, chanting "Black Lives Matter" when the advance started https://t.co/t0piOrEdJd — Alexander Marquardt (@MarquardtA) June 2, 2020
And activists seen throughout the Reuters video also complain they were directly hit with tear gas.
Moreover, Washington Post reporters at the demonstration, including metro reporter Rebecca Tan, photographed National Guard members (though not Park Police officers) wearing gas masks, “moments before authorities started firing.” That certainly suggests they were preparing to deploy tear gas.
On the use of gas yesterday: moments before authorities started firing, @hannah_natanson and I captured images from two separate angles of National Guard members in gas masks: pic.twitter.com/qMClpf8Lgf — Rebecca Tan (@rebtanhs) June 2, 2020
The Trump reelection campaign, though, is sticking with the Park Police, asking reporters — including me — to “retract and correct” published stories that say tear gas was used. (Vox is not retracting its reporting at this time.)
“It’s said that a lie can get halfway around the world before the truth can get its pants on. This tear gas lie is proof of that,” Tim Murtaugh, the Trump campaign’s communications director, said in a Tuesday evening statement.
The Park Police has a lot more explaining to do. Monahan’s statement by itself doesn’t clear up any of the main contention points. But what it does do is further confirm that Park Police felt it was necessary to respond to the protests with violence — all so Trump could have a photo op.
That, perhaps more than dubious claims in the official statement, is the most damning part of all.