Diatribes of Jay

This blog has essays on public policy. It shuns ideology and applies facts, logic and math to social problems. It has a subject-matter index, a list of recent posts, and permalinks at the ends of posts. Comments are moderated and may take time to appear.

26 November 2020

Thanksgiving Redemption 2020


For brief descriptions of and links to recent posts, click here. For an inverse-chronological list with links to all posts after January 23, 2017, click here. For a subject-matter index to posts before that date, click here.

    “Father, why hast thou forsaken me?”—Jesus on the Cross
At the end of the day, it’s not our science and advanced technology that matter. It’s the stories we tell ourselves.

The vast majority of us are not scientists. We don’t have the interest, the training, the education or the obsessive dedication to precision and realism. So our fate, our future—our destiny as a species—depend on the stories we tell ourselves.

Thanksgiving is one of America’s greatest stories. A small band of pilgrims endured a terrible months-long voyage across a stormy ocean, all alone. They had fled persecution in their homeland. They sought a better, freer life in a new and unknown land. Yet they were about to endure a winter longer and harsher than any they had known before.

The Native Americans turned out to be friendly. They knew the native plants and animals and how to cultivate them. This they taught the Pilgrims, so as to help them survive. To seal the deal, the Natives and the Pilgrims had a great feast after the fall harvest. It was a tableau of cooperation: inter-racial, intercultural, the old world and the new.

In the annals of human holidays, Thanksgiving is practically unique. It’s not religious. It celebrates no military victory or loss, no battle, no political achievement, no martyrdom. It lauds the simple act of cooperation between two very different human cultures. That act gave the Pilgrims their shaky foothold in the New World.

The genocide came later. Part a deliberate land grab and part a transfer of European contagion, it ultimately wiped out an estimated 90% of the native population of North America.

But on that bright day, the agony lay far in the future. From the smallpox-infected blankets on the Trail of Tears to Custer’s Last Stand in the far North—all were unknown. On that November day so long ago, the Natives misnamed “Indians” and the Pilgrims acted out Jesus’ advice to “love thy neighbor as thyself.”

The story is one we recall every year. It’s so compelling that many will risk sickness and death in the pandemic to celebrate it this year. Love and family are powerful stories, too.

This year two other stories also vie for our attention. One is a story of anger, grievance, mistrust, conspiracy, and treachery. It’s a story of magic, disorder, chaos, hate, and revenge—of racial groups and immigrants bent on destruction. It’s a story of a stolen election and a good people under seige. The other is a story of science, reason, tolerance, empathy, equality, and democracy quietly and effectively at work.

This year’s two stories differ as starkly as the age-old paradigms of Hell and Heaven. The people of the United States turned out in their greatest numbers ever to choose between them.

The dim vision of Heaven won. It won decisively but far from overwhelmingly. Nearly 74 million voted for the darker story.

So here we are, on our joyous and most secular American holiday, divided against each other, looking over our shoulders at our neighbors and a deadly contagion. Which story will ultimately prevail?

The story of Jesus on the Cross also raises questions. If God is all-powerful and all-good, why let Jesus die? Why not save Jesus before his death rather than resurrect him afterwards?

There are many answers to these questions. Among the most prominent are two. Sins have consequences. Sacrifice brings redemption.

We can understand these points of faith in modern, evolutionary terms. Causes have effects. Cooperation and sacrifice are our species’ chief evolutionary advantages, not our grapefruit-sized brains, our bipedal locomotion or our opposable thumbs. What led our species to dominate our small planet is our ability to empathize and cooperate and to sacrifice for the common good.

Science tells us that we can’t be unique. There are undoubtedly other intelligent species in the Universe, probably billions. But they are very far away.

Early in physics graduate school, our class calculated what it would take to reach Alpha Centauri, the star nearest to our own Sun. To the travelers, the trip would take about a dozen years. Due to special-relativistic effects, nearly four centuries would elapse on Earth before the travelers returned. When they got back, everyone they had known would be dead. Their dead contemporaries’ great-great-great-great (twenty times in all!) grandchildren would greet them. As for fuel, the voyage would take seven times the mass of our entire Sun, all converted into energy in accordance with Einstein’s formula E=mc2.

So notwithstanding our engaging stories of Star Trek and Star Wars, we’re not likely to get any help—or any hindrance—from other intelligent species anytime soon. We humans are on our own. Our little blue world is ours to preserve or destroy.

On this Thanksgiving day in 2020, we face existential threats. We face global warming, which positive feedback may make run away. We face nuclear proliferation. We face vast internal strife as our climate changes. And we Americans face our greatest and most hostile division since our Civil War, driven in part by the very same forces of racism and domination. We face all this plus the worst pandemic in a century.

Yet in our mostly non-violent confrontation among ourselves, we Americans have chosen the lighter, happier story. We have chosen love over hate, decency over domination, cooperation over discord, and science over magic and rage.

Not all of us made these healthy choices. But most of us did. On this solemn day in 2020, when the fate of our American experiment, our health, and perhaps our species hangs in the balance, that act of redemption is something to be thankful for.

Permalink to this post

23 November 2020

When the Din Subsides


For brief descriptions of and links to recent posts, click here. For an inverse-chronological list with links to all posts after January 23, 2017, click here. For a subject-matter index to posts before that date, click here.

Donald Trump may be history’s greatest noise maker. The noise he makes is not so much the opposite of “quiet” as the opposite of “signal.”

Never in human history has a leader subjected so many to so much distraction, irrelevancy, inconsistency, indecision and emotion-provoking nonsense. And never in human history have mass media, including social media, so repeatedly amplified the nonsense. For five years, our media have served as a gigantic echo chamber for one man’s diseased mind.

As a result, our people are like political prisoners being softened up for interrogation. They’ve been kept sleepless for years by loud, discordant music.

But all bad things must come to an end. Trump’s presidency will end in less than two months.

Once that happens, 330.6 million Americans will awaken to a sobering reality. A single man has grabbed their attention to the exclusion of almost all productive thought. Global warming, energy conversion, saving our industrial base and good jobs, economic equality, racial justice, international alliances, the pandemic, simple majority rule—all have succumbed to inattention and neglect.

It was his words, his taunts and cartoonish grimaces, his Tweets, his attacks, his insults, his lies, his bigotry, his “alternative” reality that commanded our attention.

Trump’s campaigns and his presidency were a vast exercise in clickbait. And we fell for it, all of us. Not just his Trumpets and loyalists, not just our social media, not just our cable news, not just innumerable craven Republican lackeys, but all of us. Our “mainstream” media, our politicians, our “opinion leaders,” and “we, the people” fell under Trump’s spell.

Whether in support or in opposition, almost everything we said or did was on his terms. As a nation, we couldn’t speak, think, feel or act without somehow recalling his name.

After January 20, we’ll be like political prisoners released without warning. The din will end, and we’ll stumble out into the fresh air and sunlight of quiet and reason. We’ll be free to think and plan once more. What we think, say and do then, and how we recover, will fix the fate of our nation and maybe our entire species.

Make no mistake about it. This has never happened before. Sure, we humans had Caesar, Hitler, Stalin and Mao. But they ruled by brute force. Caesar had his personal army, Hitler his Gestapo and Brown Shirts, Stalin his gulags, and Mao his “re-education” camps. Their physical coercion was an age-old component of tyranny.

Trump was different. As far as I know, he has killed or imprisoned no one. Innocent alien refugee children were detained separately from their parents, and a few hundred deprived of family. A few dozen protesters were jailed recently, but almost all of them already have been released.

Trump has no secret police, no concentration camps. The military—especially our top brass—hates him for his indiscipline and his refusal to heed expert advice, let alone his calling our heroes “losers” and “suckers.” The Proud Boys may be his Brown Shirts in waiting. He has threatened prison and harm to others, and he has incited others to do harm. But so far only his own have actually gone to prison, although he has pardoned some of them.

Maybe Trump would if he could, but he has not yet governed or sought to govern by force. His words alone cast their spell. He has beguiled and destroyed us almost entirely with his mouth and his Tweets.

Trump has extraordinary emotional intelligence. After all the wrong he has done, all the hardship and suffering he has caused, all the rules and norms he has broken, all the lies he has told, all the hate he has spawned and the bigotry he has fostered, he still got nearly 74 million votes. The fact that he ultimately lost does not detract from his status as the most successful demagogue in human history.

And it all happened here, in our “exceptional” America, on our watch, in our time. We have no one to blame but ourselves, all of us, collectively.

Those facts alone should give us a sobering dose of humility. After things went this wrong, we all ought to think long and hard about how and why. We must seek solutions, not just point fingers.

That’s what our Founders would have done. They were unabashed social engineers. They would recognize and acknowledge when the machine of government they had engineered stopped working so suddenly and so dramatically. They would find out exactly where the checks and balances failed and fix them. If we are to survive as a nation, let alone win the coming competition with China, we must do the same.

Solutions, I think, lie three areas. The first is our uncritical reverence for “free speech”—a subject on which I’ve written before. When unlimited reverence for speech causes what we’ve seen during the last five years, it becomes a religion, not a science. Left unbounded, it has magnified and glorified lies.

We need to channel and contain its excesses, especially in the Internet age. Our Founders’ faith that truth would emerge from the cacophony of competing voices makes little sense today. Now “truth” is different in different information bubbles, and nearly half our voters opted for attractive lies. Perhaps we need something like our old “fairness doctrine” for political attacks, or at least a beefed-up law of defamation adequate to the Internet Age and its automated trolls.

A second possible solution involves the qualifications for high office. When our forebears ratified our Constitution, public education through high school lay nearly a century in the future. The average life span was a generation shorter than it is today. So it seemed natural for them to allow any natural-born citizen of age 35 or more, resident in our country for 14 or more years, to become president.

But today our Founders would instantly recognize the Trump’s chief failing: his failure to bring any direct experience to the highest of all elective offices. That failure precluded working knowledge of our scheme of government, its checks and balances, its cautious, incremental culture, and its rule of law.

To correct that flaw, we might require some experience—perhaps at least a decade—in lower elective office. That would insure at least some experience with and “buy-in” to our political system as it now works. We could do so by amending the Constitution, adopting a federal statute, or having our political parties adopt appropriate internal rules for candidates.

A third possible solution our Founders never would have anticipated because they antedated the scientific age. (Only two of our Founders, Franklin and Jefferson, had any acquaintance with science, and only Franklin actually practiced it.) We might apply the sciences of psychology and psychiatry to test and screen out extremely unfit candidates: the psychopaths, sociopaths, clinical narcissists and pathological liars. (Trump may fall into all four categories.) We could avoid after-the-fact disputes by testing and screening them before allowing them to run for office.

We do this sort of thing with psychological fitness tests for airplane pilots and the people who man our Doomsday nuclear missile silos. So why not our president, who can order Doomsday?

More generally, your beautician, barber, real-estate agent, insurance agent, lawyer, doctor, civil engineer, and stockbroker all have mandatory professional qualifications, enforced by testing. Why not your president?

In developing solutions, we should think “outside the box.” In particular, we should not consider our Constitution an insurmountable roadblock. True, some things in it seem immune to solution without amendment—a difficult, time-consuming and (given our national division) unlikely process. The worst example is the appalling minority rule in our Senate; our Constitution mandates it for all time, absent every state’s consent. (Yet even that rule might succumb, for example, to targeted economic boycotts of recalcitrant smaller states by the industrial powerhouses that they now rule.)

But outside of our Senate, workarounds are possible. A valid interstate compact to cast Electoral College votes in accordance with the national popular vote is well on its way to fixing the Electoral College, and economic boycotts might push it over the top. Federal statutes or political-party rules requiring specific levels of experience, education or testing for candidates might supplement our lower and mostly outmoded constitutional qualifications.

After all, it was our political parties that abandoned candidate selection by wise elders in favor of popular primaries that demagogues can control. Our parties might reverse that decision, which in retrospect seems hasty and unwise. Just think, for example, where the Dems and our nation might be today, had not their wise elder Jim Clyburn saved Biden’s candidacy from oblivion.

The Chinese had a demagogue much like Donald Trump. His fervent nationalism and clever manipulation of popular emotions was gaining traction in his home region in China’s South. But this demagogue, Bo Xilai, is now safely in jail.

This is not to say that we need to follow China’s model. It’s just to say that there are practical problems that affect the very survival of governments and systems. They need prompt solutions if a nation and its system of government are to survive.

The rise of Trump the Demagogue is surely one of those problems. As his din subsides and we recover our collective sanity, we may have only a short time to stop his return, or (worse yet) the rise of someone smarter and more disciplined to claim his mantle. If ever there were an existential threat to our constitutional government, this is it. This threat is even more immediate than global warming.

Endnote on kinds of intelligence: Trump is our nation’s best proof (so far) of what I modestly call “Dratler’s law.” The worst leaders, it holds, are those like Trump with high emotional and low analytical intelligence. They are brilliant at manipulating people to do stupid and counterproductive things, even against their own economic and practical interests.

Trump’s analytical intelligence was so low that he took extraordinary steps to conceal his college grades and test scores. He also failed to understand that importers and consumers, not foreign exporters, pay tariffs in the form of increased final prices. And he speculated on using bleach and sunlight, internally, as cures for Covid-19. Yet his emotional intelligence was high enough to nearly win a second election after most of his promises had turned to dust and he had nearly destroyed our pandemic response, our economy, our internal cohesion and our democracy. Somehow, we have to protect ourselves from him or his like ever reaching high office again. That is job one for the Biden Administration; our survival as a democracy may depend on it, as soon as four years from now.

Permalink to this post

21 November 2020

Retail Politics and Trumpism


For brief descriptions of and links to recent posts, click here. For an inverse-chronological list with links to all posts after January 23, 2017, click here. For a subject-matter index to posts before that date, click here.

    “I don’t care what the newspapers say about me as long as they spell my name right.”—saying attributed to various American authors, pols and humorists.

    “Promise her anything, but give her Arpège.”—Old, long-running New Yorker Magazine advertisement for a now forgotten perfume.

While Trump tries to steal the election, pols, pollsters, and pundits are pondering four questions. How did one of the least effective leaders and the vilest human being ever to occupy the White House attract 71 million votes? How did he do so after four years of empty promises, an interstellar vacuum of concrete policies, and incessant lies, bigotry, hate, insults, division and discord? How did he get working families to vote for his oligarchy and against their own long-term economic interests? And how did he actually gain voters among racial and ethnic groups that he spent four years repeatedly bashing so he could solidify his “base” among resentful whites?

After two weeks of angst and anguish, some plausible answers are emerging. Jamelle Bouie wrote, “It’s the money, stupid.”

Before the pandemic, the economy had been roaring. Never mind that it was just the Obama recovery continuing but slowing down. People had jobs; their pay was increasing in real terms for the first time since the seventies. Life seemed good for many workers.

When the pandemic came, the experts fudged their response at first, because good science takes time. But relief money came long before the election and on Trump’s watch. It had his name on the checks. Think how much that matters to people who live thousands of miles from the Beltway, rarely read a newspaper, get their news from Fox or Rush, and decide for whom to vote a day or two before the election.

After the money, what I call “hit-and-run” promising came next. Most of Trump’s empty promises hadn’t much more substance than the rest of his 22,000-plus lies. But as Simon and Garfunkel sang, “A man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.”

Trump’s hit-and-run promises were tactically brilliant. What happens when one party has a fifteen-point plan, several points of which are hotly disputed, and the other’s leader simply says, “I’ve got your back and will bring back your jobs! And I’m going to wallop China”? Whom would you support?

Trump even promised to help Midwestern farmers after his blunderbuss tariffs caused China to retaliate against them by purchasing fewer soybeans. And then he actually delivered with substantial relief money. He promised a wall and strong disincentives for illegal immigration (including putting children in cages). That won him Latinos in the Rio Grande Valley, many of whom work for ICE or have land crossed by undocumented immigrants. Trump even promised federal recognition to the Lumbee Native American tribe, at the border of the Carolinas. His doing so helped him win both states.

Like a good Mafioso, Trump is brilliant and generous in handing out favors, or in seeming to do so. Whether he actually delivers doesn’t matter much. Sometimes his failures, as with infrastructure jobs, don’t show up until long after the election. (He still has no infrastructure plan, only more empty promises!) Sometimes he makes his promises to people who’ve never attracted much serious political attention before, as with the Lumbee.

Which brings us to racism and bigotry. The Dems have spent literally decades debating the fine points of racism, microaggressions and white privilege. But when it came to specific policies to help Black and Brown people, the Dems—except for appointing a few to high positions—have been mostly a day late and a dollar short. The mandatory-minimum-sentencing and “three strikes” laws, which led to a plague of unfair and family-destroying incarceration, were just one example of Dems’ propensity to take the high road in intellectualizing while failing to provide practical down-to-Earth solutions.

But this time the Dems got lucky. They profited from something awful.

Along came a spate of unjustifiable murders of Black people that culminated (but hardly ended) with the police murder of George Floyd. It had two effects. First, those murders (and the Trumped-up backlash to protests against them) caused Black voters to rally around the party that had traditionally shown them the most sympathy, despite the absence of widely successful policy initiatives. Second, by overplaying their hand with draconian military reactions and appeals to “law and order,” Trump and the GOP alienated minorities as much or more than the fear he incited got him a few extra votes among whites.

Then there were the means. Trump correctly understood that the vast majority of voters—unlike pols, pundits and even bloggers like me—doesn’t follow politics on anything like a daily basis. Exploiting the first headpiece quote above, Trump kept his name in the news with incessant lies, boasts, exaggerations and Tweets, understanding that most voters ignore the chaff and recall only what they want to hear.

As the election approached, Trump upped his hit-and-run promises, occasionally actually delivering, as he did with farmers’ relief. Finally, by making his rallies puerile and repetitive to the point of terminal boredom for reporters and the well-educated, he was able to slant his promises to key groups without the media noticing.

What sentient and rational reporter had the patience to pay careful attention to Trump’s mostly deranged or formulaic tirades at his rallies? So his rallies provided a key means to deliver different messages to different groups without him being called out for inconsistency. His whole shtick was inconsistency, so who would notice him playing a different tune to different constituencies?

As a result, while Mitt Romney got skewered for doing much the same thing on national media in 2012, Trump won big in 2016 and even increased his appeal, although losing, in 2020. Add all that to the power of spectacle and the rousing of crowds through in-person social feedback, and what we saw was the most talented demagogue since Julius Caesar.

Our Founders were idealists. They hoped that election campaigns would be honest debates among true public servants vying for voters’ minds and approval. In contrast, Trump treats elections like wars, to be won by any and all means, fair or foul. Hit-and-run tactics matter infinitely more than strategy, let alone any strategy for how to govern if you win.

That was how Trump won in 2016. That was how he almost won again this year, despite having had much of the “establishment” of his own party committed against him, plus an overwhelming monetary disadvantage.

So let’s call Trump what he is. In the form of “total political war” that he’s introduced to America, he’s as brilliant a tactician as Caesar. Then how do you fight him? Surely he won’t be the last of his kind. Just as surely, those who follow him may be smarter and more disciplined: Pompeo, for example. (It would be hard to be less disciplined than Trump.)

Without resorting to the “solution” of ancient Rome’s Senators to Caesar’s rise, I see at least two ways to deal with Trump and his ilk. The first is Stacey Abrams’ way: retail, door-to-door politics.

You don’t have to make complex arguments or subvert media. You don’t have to formulate detailed policy plans, which anyway will never survive the vicissitudes of politics, ever-changing economics and chance. You don’t need to go big on Facebook or on Twitter, where 10% of the users produce 90% of the Tweets. You don’t need to make waves or headlines. You need to make friends, as neighbors do.

You need to do the hard work of getting to know your neighbors, showing them, person by person, how politics can improve their lives. Then you demonstrate how, in elections from city council, up through the statehouse and the state senate, and finally to our grossly malapportioned national government.

This is hard, tedious work. It doesn’t happen overnight. It requires a lifetime or a career’s investment, at least by a core group of committed and talented people. It’s called “organizing,” and it never ends. It’s how President Obama cut his political teeth.

At the end of the day, this sort of retail politics is more effective than advertising on TV and on social media. In two years from the standing start of her narrow 2018 loss in the Georgia governor’s race, it let Stacey Abrams flip Georgia.

Sure, she did so with the help from the most despicable president in our nation’s history and one of the most experienced and decent candidates ever. But she did it. She wrought the first Democratic win of a presidential candidate in Georgia since Bill Clinton’s 38 years ago. If you look for a non-Southern Democrat—not Clinton or Carter—winning a presidential race in Georgia, you’d have to go back to JFK in 1960. That was sixty years ago, before Nixon’s racist “Southern Strategy” ever lost the South to Dems.

Not only is retail politics more effective than a big presence on mass media and social media. It’s also less expensive. Why? There’s no profit involved. You’re not paying private, profit-making media that, like arms dealers in a cold war, exploit the needs and desperation of both sides.

The people who do organizing need only enough money to provide a decent middle-class living and to continue their good work. They don’t do it for profit; they do it for love.

Organizers’ love of country and democracy is as pure as that of our soldiers who fight for us abroad, whom this president called “suckers” and “losers.” Maybe if Jaime Harrison had had someone like Stacey Abrams behind him organizing in South Carolina, he could have won the state for a lot less than his reported $57 million third-quarter haul (to which I contributed).

Let me now interject an important distinction. The phone-banking that the Democratic Party and Daily Kos does is not the same as grass-roots organizing. Nor does using cell phones, texting, or even hand-written letters or postcards make it so. Grass-roots organizing requires people in or from the community, with on-the-ground knowledge, who take the time to develop lasting personal relationships with neighbors. It’s the political equivalent of the once wildly successful business Amway, which sold tupperware and other household goods through social circles of ladies in communities across America. It requires personal contact and takes time and long-term commitment.

Before leaving the subject of retail politics, let’s look at Latinos in Florida. Specifically, let’s look at the estimated 480,000 people of Puerto Rican origin eligible to vote in Florida. That’s nearly a third more than the 370,000-plus votes by which Trump won Florida this time. Yet when I tuned in to a Webcast by DNC Chair Tom Perez in early spring, Puerto Ricans in Florida barely got honorable mention. Much later, I read that Michael Bloomberg threw some money at them, probably in mass-media advertising late in the game. Could a real grass-roots organizing effort among them have flipped Florida, too? We’ll never know. (Paper towels, anyone?)

As for the “mainstream” media, they’ve been helping but can do much more. The best way they have helped—and can help more—is by diversifying their news staff and especially their pundits. It was the Washington Post’s Jonathan Capehart whose podcast interview first introduced me to Jaime Harrison, leading me to watch his debate with Lindsey Graham and discover Harrison’s stellar talent. Yesterday, it was the New York Times’ editorial page that introduced me to Marisa Franco and her Mijente organization, as well as several other Latino organizing groups she mentioned.

So as I look back at my record as a donor in the 2019-2020 election cycle, what do I see? Biden won, thank God for our democracy! Mark Kelly won. Reverend Warnock is still standing and in the fight of his life, hoping along with Jon Ossoff to give the Dems control of the Senate in Georgia’s January runoffs.

Yet the four other individual candidates to whom I donated all lost. Meanwhile, the nine grass-roots organizations to which I gave are all alive and well and continuing their good work. Best of all, they are operating mostly under the radar of the opposition and national media. They are talking with and convincing actual voters, one by one.

It’s a slow process. But at the end of the day, I’m a practical guy. I believe in cause and effect. That’s why I mostly wear two masks—an N95 and a cloth cover—every time I leave the house. That’s why I think that Tweets and Facebook posts are poor substitutes for in-person neighbor-to-neighbor organizing. That’s why, to me, big bucks spent on big media are mostly wasted. And that’s why, in the future, I’m going to support grass-roots organizers that work year-round, all year long, not just during the runup to critical elections, and not mostly with big media buys.

Roman Senators thought they’d done with Caesar when they stabbed him to death. But they were wrong. The political forces Caesar had set in motion led to a series of Pompeian Civil Wars that converted Roman democracy permanently into The Roman Empire. The Empire lasted centuries more but never attained its former level of democracy, let alone justice for ordinary people. Roman emperors chiseled their predecessors’ names off of statues in the Forum and wrote in their own, just as Trump has tried to erase President Obama’s legacy.

If we are to duck ancient Rome’s fate, we have to do better. The solution won’t come from the top, let alone from the next “savior” on a white horse. Nor will it come from the Internet, which has only supercharged propaganda and lies. If we want to rebuild our democracy, we’re going to have to do it from the ground up. We have to start with the people.

Endnote—My Grass-Roots Donees: Here, in alphabetic order, are the nine grass-roots organizations (including a few umbrella organizations) to which I contributed during the 2019-2020 election cycle: Black Voters Matter, Daily Kos, Democracy for America, The Democratic National Committee, Fair Fight Action (Stacey Abrams’ group), New Georgia Project (led by Stacy Abrams’ protege Nse Ufot), The People Campaign (Texas), Progressive Turnout Project, and Voter Protection. I’m still looking for an organizer of ex-Puerto Ricans in Florida. If we can flip the whole South as Abrams did Georgia, we’ll have a whole new country, no matter where the upper-Midwest goes.

ERRATA: An earlier version of this post put JFK’s 1960 election at eighty years ago, not the actual sixty. I regret the arithmetic error. Also, an earlier version of this post put Jonathan Capehart at the New York Times. He’s actually at the Washington Post. I regret that substantive error, the more so because Capehart has one of the few, if not the only, podcast I listen to.

Permalink to this post

15 November 2020

Hydrogen as a Battery


For brief descriptions of and links to recent posts, click here. For an inverse-chronological list with links to all posts after January 23, 2017, click here. For a subject-matter index to posts before that date, click here.

Enough sunlight falls, on average, on an area the size of Delaware to have supplied all the United States’ electrical power needs for 2019. Delaware is our second-smallest state. Since Texas is over one hundred times as big, a solar array one-hundredth of the area of Texas could have done the job.

So sunlight is more than enough, even without the wind it helps power, to provide all the electricity we need to run our advanced civilization. And it gives us that gift without pollution, greenhouse gases or global warming.

We know how to use sunlight and wind. We have for years. We know how to make solar arrays and windmills, how to install them, and how to connect them to our electrical grid. Texas, for example, leads our nation in wind-energy capacity while it’s also mired in fracking for fossils. And the energy solar arrays produce is cheap compared to nuclear and fossil energy.

If we put our minds to it and exercised worldwide discipline, we could probably convert our entire energy infrastructure to renewables in a decade, certainly in a generation. So what’s stopping us? Mainly political and social interia. We’ve got too many stranded assets tied up in extracting, refining and using fossil fuels, and too many powerful people and corporations invested in them. The problem is mostly historical and political, not practical or technical.

If there are any real practical problems left, they all relate to energy storage. Sunlight and wind at the Earth’s surface are intermittent. They’re not always perfectly matched to electrical load. We can match energy production to load better by building regional and even national electrical grids. But we can’t match production and usage perfectly without energy storage.

Storage is difficult for some applications. They include things like aircraft, locomotives, big ships, long-haul trucks and heavy construction machinery. The batteries we have now are mostly too heavy for these applications—even batteries using lithium, the lightest we have.

Enter hydrogen. Although it’s a gas at normal temperatures, you can think of this lightest of all elements as a big battery. It’s a flexible battery precisely because it’s not solid. You can put it in a tank of any shape. You can compress it. You can send it through pipelines. If you’re willing to spend the energy and cost, you can even compress and cool it until it becomes a liquid.

So hydrogen used as a battery is simple and flexible. Unlike solid batteries, it doesn’t require electrodes with complex chemistry involving other elements. It never degenerates or wears out. All it requires is a storage container.

We can use the energy stored in hydrogen in two ways. The most elegant is in fuel cells, which can produce electricity from elemental hydrogen at will. A less elegant way is in rotating internal-combustion engines, such as gas turbines or even piston engines.

Even in this crude “burn it up” application, hydrogen batteries have two key advantages over fossil fuels. First, they produce no carbon. If hydrogen burns in oxygen, the result is pure water and nothing else. If hydrogen burns in air, which is mostly nitrogen, the result may include oxides of nitrogen, but no carbon and therefore no greenhouse gases. (Carbon dioxide, CO2, and methane, CH4, are the principal greenhouse gases created by burning and extracting fossil fuels.)

Our fossil-fuel industries already know how to produce hydrogen from methane, a component of natural gas. But there’s a much easier, simpler, cheaper and less polluting way of producing hydrogen: electrolyzing water. Put a little salt in water to increase its conductivity, run electricity through it, and you get hydrogen and oxygen, water’s atomic components, and nothing else.

You can use the hydrogen as a formless battery. You can use the oxygen for medicine, as in helping Covid-19 patients breathe, or for numerous industrial processes. Or you can burn it with hydrogen, in the exact same proportion as electrolyzing water produces, in the same way you use fossil fuels. The only relevant difference is that the combustion product, pure water, contains no pollutants and no Earth-heating carbon.

This is not theory. It’s practice. As a recent New York Times story reports, California is already doing it. It’s spending close to a quarter-billion dollars on hydrogen storage and pumps—to replace gas stations for cars—by 2023. Most of this effort will support hydrogen fuel-cell cars and light trucks, which work about the same, with about the same performance, as lithium-battery electric cars.

From a practical perspective, there are only three differences between these hydrogen-fuel-cell vehicles and their lithium-battery counterparts. First, the fuel-cells cars “fill up” with compressed hydrogen much faster than lithium batteries in cars can recharge. Second, the fuel-cell cars have a longer range than the electric cars, about 50% more. Third, the fuel-cell cars now cost at least 50% more than a high-quality electric car, such as a low-end Tesla (the Model 3).

The popular press has reported the development of fuel-cell cars as an epic battle between Elon Musk of Tesla and the foreign car makers (principally Toyota, Hyundai and Daimler) that are now developing fuel-cell vehicles full speed ahead. Musk has taken the bait and has blasted the fuel-cell cars as expensive, overly complex and perhaps dangerous, due to the special flammability of hydrogen.

But this “battle of the industrial Titans” totally misses the point. When properly used in the applications for which they are most suited, lithium batteries and hydrogen batteries are apples and oranges. They will be complementary, not competitive. Each has special, if not unique, preferred uses. Both will be absolutely necessary if we are to convert our entire energy infrastructure into a carbon-free one, let alone before positive global-warming feedback drives global warming to run away.

Lithium-battery technology works well in short-haul, light vehicle transport, where it already has a huge head start. Its problem, as outlined below, is that lithium batteries are quite heavy in relation to the energy they store. Lithium-battery cars get even heavier the longer their range. They work best for drivers who drive less than 100 miles a day, who can charge them from zero, without special equipment, in only a few hours.

Drivers like that not only waste their money buying more expensive cars with 250 mile ranges. They also about double the weight/mass of their cars. That’s why, with my limited retired-person driving range, a Chevy Volt’s 50-mile range was perfect for me, even living out in the country 17 miles south of Santa Fe.

For long-range vehicles, including heavy trucks, trains and aircraft, these disadvantages of lithium-battery technology are decisive. The batteries are just too heavy in these applications for the energy they store. They also take far too long to recharge fully. In these applications, and also probably for heavy construction equipment, lithium batteries are just not appropriate for the job. That’s why several companies are reportedly developing long-haul trucks that run on hydrogen and fuel cells.

The most difficult application of stored electricity is aircraft. No one has even thought of replacing jet engines with electric fans. That’s in part because of the huge weight/mass disadvantage of lithium batteries, and in part because jet engines use the heat of burning fuel directly to develop thrust. (The turbines’ rotary motion mostly controls combustion and its natural thrust.)

But here’s the thing. The specific energy (energy per weight/mass) of hydrogen is about three times that of jet fuel. Thus compressed hydrogen is actually a better fuel per weight than fossil-fuel-based alternatives. We can use it in place of jet fuel to avoid carbon pollution, and we can make it (by electrolysis) to maintain air travel after fossil fuels run out. (Hydrogen may require some additives to increase the ejected mass and thus thrust, and the turbines may require modification to withstand higher temperatures. So some R&D maybe be necessary here. But the concept worked in early rocket engines and could be made to work in jet engines.)

As for ships, the specific-energy advantage of hydrogen can be exploited either with hydrogen turbines or with fuel cells, as the extra weight of the fuel cells is not of much a problem for ships. Some ships might even use on-board solar arrays and windmills to augment their electricity or produce additional hydrogen fuel by electrolysis as they sailed.

It’s thus entirely possible, while using hydrogen as a battery, to replace fossil fuels in virtually all of their uses today. We could even modify blast furnaces and other sources of industrial heat to burn hydrogen without carbon release. We can then make enough hydrogen, by electrolyzing water with electricity from renewables, to replace fossil fuels in every application.

Unlike burning fossil fuels, an energy infrastructure based on hydrogen will leave no stranded assets. When new sources of carbon-free electric power develop—whether they be safer nuclear fission plants or the still-elusive better-than-break-even nuclear fusion plants—we can just put them to work electrolyzing water to make hydrogen. They can replace solar and wind farms whenever economically advantageous. Then the hydrogen their electricity produces can serve as non-polluting battery/fuel in all forms of transportation and in all industrial processes that require heating, with renewables providing the rest of our electricity and electrolyzed hydrogen smoothing their intermittency.

Using hydrogen as a battery has one final advantage. As global warming accelerates, the globe's equatorial and tropical regions may become even more sparsely populated than they already are. They could be used for massive solar farms and wind farms, which could supply hydrogen fuel to the rest of the world by electrolyzing water in autonomous or semi-autonomous plants. The resulting hydrogen could power the temperate zones, supplementing their own renewables. It could also help heat the temperate zones, with their warmer but still uncomfortable winters, after natural gas runs out.

Footnote 1: Solar Power per land area. According to this report of the National Renewable Energy Laboratory [Scroll down to Page v, Table ES-1], the average land use for a large-scale commercial solar photovoltaic array using fixed panels is 2.8 acres for each gigawatt-hour of power per year. In 2019, total US electricity consumption was 3.99 trillion kilowatt hours, or 3,990,000 gigawatt hours. The equivalent land area is thus 3,990,000/2.8 = 1,425,000 acres, or 2,227 square miles. That’s less than the 2008 land area of Delaware. In other words, if Delaware were paved with solar panels, it could, on average, power the entire nation.

Footnote 2: Battery Weight, Range and the Electric Car Conundrum. In a previous post, I had criticized Tesla and the whole electric-car industry for offering electric cars with 250+ mile ranges, which few, if any, drivers need regularly. That sort of range adds something like 2,000 pounds to the car’s weight/mass—all in the battery—while inflating the price by $10,000-$20,000. The massive battery improves the car’s performance somewhat, but not nearly proportionally. For me, it would have meant driving a 5,000 pound car to drag my 150 pound body around.

What I failed to realize in my earlier post was that a small internal combustion engine (ICE) is a superior, if somewhat inelegant, solution to the problem of range anxiety. Instead of carrying around 2,000 pounds of extra battery everywhere it goes, the Chevy Volt has a small ICE and a gas tank, which probably weigh no more than 350 pounds together.

The Volt’s ICE needs no transmission, transaxle or differential because, in a serial hybrid, it merely drives the same generator used to charge the battery while braking. The same electric motor drives the wheels whether the electric energy comes from the battery or the ICE and connected generator. The ICE also suffers far less wear than the engine in a gasoline car because it runs at constant RPM, optimized for conditions; it never has to lug the car’s whole mass directly from a standing start.

Now gasoline weighs only six pounds per gallon. So for eighteen additional pounds in the tank, at 30 miles per gallon I get an additional 90 miles of range. If I wanted to fill the tank, I could, according to GM, get an additional 480 miles of range. But why bother, when I rarely, if ever, drive more than 50 miles a day?

After “repositioning” the car from the state in which I leased it, I typically drive for six months or more without adding gasoline. Occasionally I burn 0.06 gallons or so when I overestimate the car’s electric range.

This arrangement has only one tiny downside. After six months, the car’s computer forced it to burn a little gasoline to keep what’s left from getting stale. Yet all this is far preferable to adding 2,000 pounds of weight/mass to the car, which it has to drag around everywhere, even up the big mountain from my home to Santa Fe.

I’m sorry that my own electrical “purism” kept me from appreciating GM’s effective and efficient solution to the range anxiety problem. I’m even sorrier that GM decided to drop the entire model/line rather than to educate the public on its advantages. The Volt is a superb car, and I love mine.

Footnote 3: Comparative specific energies of hydrogen gas and (liquid) jet fuel. The specific energy of jet fuel is 11.99 kWh/kg. The specific energy of hydrogen gas is 36 kWh/kg, about three times as high.

Permalink to this post

11 November 2020

Lessons from the Dems’ Post-Mortem


For brief descriptions of and links to recent posts, click here. For an inverse-chronological list with links to all posts after January 23, 2017, click here. For a subject-matter index to posts before that date, click here.

There are no two ways to “spin” it. The Dems have saved US democracy, at least for four years. But aside from the presidential race, the 2020 election was a wipeout for them. Facing the worst and most outrageously criminal administration in American history, they won the big one but lost almost everything else. They may have failed to regain the Senate, and they even lost seats in the House.

You don’t point out your own side’s mistakes in the middle of a war. But now that the election’s all over except for rejecting Trump’s bogus claims of fraud, I can be frank with some points of advice:

1. Don’t be stupid. The slogan “Defund the police” has to be one of the dumbest I’ve ever heard. It reeks of a child telling his parents, “Give me a new toy, or I’ll break the old one.” It may be the only thing that Dems said or did in this election cycle that sank to Trump’s level of incompetence and childishness.

The type of political ad it enables I can compose in my head. A woman reaches for the telephone to dial 911. The camera pans to a gun smashing through the panes of glass in her front door and a hand groping inside for the lock. A robotic voice on the phone intones, “Sorry, we can’t help you; we’ve been defunded.” I recall actually seeing an ad of that sort. Think it might have played well in ghettos rife with guns and crime, let alone in white suburbs?

Speaker Pelosi is a marvelously effective legislative leader. But apparently she’s not much of a teacher. If she can’t do it herself, she needs to commission a class or seminar for new congresspeople to teach them the facts of life. No matter how young or inexperienced you are, and no matter how big an electoral mandate you may have in your district, election is not a license to be stupid.

2. Think beyond your own district; be a team player. Compared to the disciplined, lock-step Republicans, Dems have always been a herd of cats. Will Rogers said it best: “I’m not a member of any organized political party. I’m a Democrat.”

To some extent disorganization is inevitable; a lot of it comes from the Dems’ “big tent.” But Dems can do a lot better. Demographics and the future seemed to be on their side, but this time they blew their chances big time.

They hung “moderates” in red districts out to dry. Except for suburban women and seniors, they failed to broaden their tent. They fought fire with fire—not always a brilliant idea. Their most loyal “base” of college-educated women and Black voters saved them, and then only at the presidential level, plus maybe (and crucially for the Senate) in Georgia.

This was supposed to be a “base” election for Trump’s team, too. But at the last moment, in a multipronged surprise attack, Trump reached out in unforeseen ways to broaden his base. He creamed Biden with oil-and-gas workers by harping on Biden’s ill-expressed desire to phase out oil and fracking for gas, not just coal. In Florida Trump got Hispanic votes by damning socialism before crowds of Cubans and Venezuelans—whose political lives revolve around perpetual hatred for the Castros, Maduro and Chavez—and by emphasizing independence and self-reliance for all workers, plus machismo for men. Trump even gained traction with the small Native American Lumbee tribe on the border of the two Carolinas by promising its members federal recognition.

In all these ploys, Trump’s total lack of ideology and reliance on his own instincts and whim were advantages. They left him agile, flexible and free to feed voters’ wishes on the spur of the moment. It doesn’t matter whether he intended to fulfill all his promises or could conceive of any practical ways to do so. He got the votes. That’s how he rolls, and that’s how he became president.

Dems have to figure out how to counter these moves. Trump may be gone for good, or he may be back again in 2024. But either way, Trumpism is far from dead. In our social-media culture, which rewards a gnat’s attention span, this sort of hit-and-run promising has a long race to run. The only way honest pols can fight it is to understand what every sector of the electorate wants, nationwide, and refrain from supporting the opposite, even by implication, at least not without reflection and deliberate intention.

Barack Obama was the most gifted pol of my voting lifetime. There’s a reason why he spoke slowly and deliberately and often relied on his teleprompter. When he spoke extemporaneously, he knew he had to play three-dimensional chess in his head. New members of Congress have to learn to play that challenging game or keep silent.

3. Say it simply and often, and know your audience. The foregoing point segues naturally into the next. As Simon and Garfunkel sang in their iconic song, “The Boxer”:
      I have squandered my resistance
      For a pocket full of mumbles.
      Such are promises,
      All lies and jests.
      Still a man hears what he wants to hear
      And disregards the rest.”
That brilliant stanza tells the sad fate of duped voters. Trump’s short political career has been a successful exercise in exploiting it.

His voters forgave his lying, crudeness, vulgarity and bigotry—often even against their own gender, race or ethnicity—because, at the end of the day, he told them what they wanted to hear. He told them that he would preserve their jobs and industries and that, as crude as he is, he had their backs. For voters convinced that “the elites” had forgotten or discounted them, that was all they needed to hear.

Biden’s remark about oil and gas was absolute truth. We do have to phase out fossil fuels to save our climate. Even if we don’t, they’ll run out within a generation or, at most, two. [Click here for oil and here for gas.]

But however true it is, you can’t say that to oil and gas workers and expect to get their votes. You have to slant your message to your audience. By that simple remark, Biden probably lost tens of thousands of votes in Pennsylvania. It may be why he lost Texas decisively. (Texas is our leading state in wind-power capacity, but oil and gas are entrenched in its culture and history, especially among older voters and mostly-male drilling crews.)

Your doctor might not tell you when your chances of surviving are only 10%, because he knows that you and your immune system will fight harder if you think positively. Just so, a pol can’t be brutally honest with workers in dying industries. He or she must give them hope by speaking of better jobs in renewables and infrastructure and emphasizing natural gas as the best transition fuel. People, like horses, must be led to water, not have their heads dunked in it.

Trump’s habitual lying and exaggeration may have actually helped him here. Like a World War II fighter, he threw out a lot of chaff. Voters learned to ignore it and focus only when he said he had their backs. That, I think, is a large part of his demagogic genius. He purposefully threw out clouds of smoke to confuse his opponents, make them crazy, and make sure “his” voters heard only what they wanted to hear. The Dems have to make sure they don’t give him ammunition. (If you don’t fear Mike Pompeo, who’s as unprincipled and evil as Trump but far smarter and more disciplined, you haven’t been paying attention.)

4. Stay on message, which can be shaded from place to place. Compared to the Dems, Republicans are as disciplined and united as an ancient Roman legion. They relentlessly promote utter nonsense, like “job-killing taxes” and “job-killing regulations.” The Dems have to be just as relentless, and just as united, in pointing out that taxes and regulations create jobs and grow the economy, as well as lead to other benefits like greater equality, a stronger safety net, more reliable health care, a cleaner environment, and a more survivable climate.

Dems need to compose bumper-sticker slogans to express these more complex ideas succinctly and forcefully. That’s not easy. It took the better part of three centuries to figure out an apt, single-syllable word for oppressed Americans who descended from slaves, which can also include the subjects of “collateral damage” who didn’t. All it took was capitalizing the “B” in “black,” to create a proper adjective that’s apt, respectful, and covers the waterfront fairly precisely.

In my view, it’s no coincidence that this simple proper adjective arose during a vast awakening among Caucasians—a vast outrage over widespread and unjustified murders of Black people, and systematic disenfranchisement of Black voters. Did the name change precede or follow the awakening, or were they all part of the same political evolution? You decide. But Dems could profit immensely by taking lessons from Republicans in the often-dark arts of “applied philology.”

5. Agree on a message and how to present it in advance. As will Rogers jokingly noted, Democrats are famous for their circular firing squads. They spend their lives disputing nuances of progressivism, while their opponents push us back toward the nineteenth century and the Old Gilded Age.

By dint of extraordinary and unprecedented effort, they managed to avoid a fateful dust-up between moderates and progressives this time. Their failure to do so last time may have doomed Hillary Clinton’s campaign and left Trump to transform the entire political landscape.

The moral of this story is unity. Does this mean that true progressives should give up their fight and become moderates? Hell, no. What it means is that they have to become cleverer and more sophisticated about how they push their agendas. They have to use ju-jitsu and judo, not drunken roundhouse punches, to actually win their fight. They have to persuade and bargain rather than just put on a show.

No Dem I’ve seen, with the possible exception of JFK and Barack Obama, is anywhere near as good at putting on a show as Donald Trump. The reason has nothing to do with skill. Dems have trouble putting on a show because they also have to deal with reality and real people’s needs. So they have to pick their audiences and their timing with exquisite precision.

Making “progress” is what progressivism is all about. It’s not rocket science. It’s human relations, aka “politics” 1A. You’ve got to attract and persuade people, not repel them. These subsidiary points may help:

    Principle 1: Work on your friends and allies first. If you can’t persuade your friends and allies, how in hell are you going to persuade your opponents, let alone voters whom Fox and Rush have brainwashed for decades? The Sanders/Warren faction of Democrats did this brilliantly in forcing changes in the Democratic Party’s platform after agreeing to support Biden.

    A party platform is hardly binding on anyone. But in making those changes progressives improved their rapport with their party, honed their message and approach, and strengthened their alliances with the pols and constituencies they most need to make progress.

    Best of all, the progressives did this mostly in private. A competent army doesn’t film its training exercises and hand the video to its enemies, does it?

    Principle 2: Hone your message and your strategy before you go public. Listening to Fox and Republicans can drive you crazy. To them, up is often down and left is socialism and tyranny. But you can’t fight people who’ve been brainwashed, at least not right away. You’ve got to soften them up.

    You do that by softening your message, not your goals. You say, “Stop police brutality,” or “Stop killing Black people,” “Black Lives Matter,” “Humanize the police,” or "Demilitarize the police,” rather than “Defund the police.” You state your goals absolutely precisely, with all their limitations, so as not to be tagged as extreme. You use simple language and avoid the last-century’s labels and banners (like “socialism”) as if they were a political plague, which they are.

    Most of all, it’s best to leave methods and tactics unstated, because they often change with circumstances and with inevitable political bargaining. Keep your eyes and your slogans on the prize, not the means. Talk about saving our climate, reducing devastating hurricanes, droughts, wildfires and tornadoes, and providing good, healthy, clean-air jobs. Don’t talk so much about banning fracking and phasing out oil, at least not right away. There’s always more than one way to skin a cat.

    Another reason for not talking methods is that it gets you into the weeds. Methods are subjects for experts, not voters. That’s why we have a representative democracy or “Republic,” not a direct democracy. Legislators and regulators hash out means; voters most want to know where their government is headed and at what cost.

    Principle 3: If you must talk means, leave them to last. It’s far easier to get agreement on goals than on means.

    If you express them right, almost everyone believes in progressive goals. Who doesn’t want universal health coverage, coverage of pre-existing conditions, greater economic equality, fewer gun slaughters, and people working a full week, but at the low end, who don’t have to get food stamps to feed their families? If you express goals like this, you’ll get broad agreement. It’s when you start talking means—like wiping out private insurance, soaking the rich, or a minimum national income—that disagreement starts.

    Here a detailed example may be helpful. I’ve written a whole essay about raising, not reducing, the estate tax, especially on high-value estates. Doing that would raise much-needed revenue and retard the ascendance of a permanent economic aristocracy in America.

    The means I proposed was simply raising the tax rates. That’s a simple, straightforward approach that demagogues can easily attack as “soaking the rich” or “taxing death.”

    But I recently read about a subtler and perhaps more effective means of accomplishing the same end. The newspaper story I read didn’t actually specify the means. But I think I was able to figure it out: abolishing the “stepped-up basis” that estates get to use in applying the existing tax rate to calculate estate taxes.

    The stepped-up basis works this way. When an estate-holder dies, the heirs get the decedent’s property with a “basis,” or tax valuation, calculated as of the date of death. For example, if the decedent had held a piece of juicy California real estate for a full half-century, the heirs would receive it at its modern fair-market value. All the half-century of appreciation (“capital gains”) would never get taxed at all, even if the heirs sold the property just a week after inheriting it. The story I read suggested that the means it reported (which it did not identify) would actually produce more government revenue than just raising the tax rates as much as politically feasible.

    If my inference about the unspecified means is right, it would be positively brilliant for three reasons. First, it’s technically complex and so hard to characterize and oppose simply. Second, it sounds fairer than simply raising the estate tax rate, because otherwise decades of appreciation in the value of property would go untaxed. Finally—and most important—it can be sold as closing a loophole, rather than just “soaking the rich.”

* * *


At this point, some progressive readers may think I’m a moderate. But I’m not. I voted for Bernie Sanders in 2016 until his campaign was no longer viable; then I voted for Hillary Clinton (although I’m no big fan of hers). I voted for Elizabeth Warren in this cycle, because I think she’s smarter and more strategic than Sanders, although Sanders is a persuasive speaker.

Yet I voted in this general election for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, and I did so with some enthusiasm. My enthusiasm derived not just from the high stakes and the risk of tyranny. It also came from Biden’s experience, political skill and decency, and Harris’ intelligence, warmth, and ability to enlarge the Dems’ “big tent” as a woman of color. While I started out skeptical of Medicare for All, I ended up endorsing it after a horrible personal experience with the dysfunction of our current system.

My election epiphany came after Rep. Jim Clyburn of South Carolina “anointed” Biden after his losses in Iowa and New Hampshire, and Biden blew away his opposition in Clyburn’s state. Clyburn taught us that Joe’s experience, moderation, decency and name recognition were the best way to beat Trump. And Clyburn was right. He spoke not just for his own state, but for the “silent majority” of confused and fearful voters nationwide.

I will go to my grave believing that we owe the salvation of our democracy (so far) to Clyburn’s experience, insight and timely leadership. Thank you, Jim! Now, looking backward, it’s easy to understand why no one but Biden was as well positioned to win, let alone heal the nation.

As Otto von Bismarck taught us, politics “is the art of the possible.” I love our new progressive “rainbow” of House members and am happy that they’re in Congress. But they’ve yet to fully internalize the fact that the rest of the nation is not like their districts. Maybe Trump’s ability to command over 70 million votes, even as he became more and more unhinged, will help them learn.

A truly national epiphany will take some time. And it won’t come without an epic struggle. In that struggle, the newbies have two disadvantages. First, they’ve never done a national campaign. Second, they are like raw recruits who’ve never seen total political war. They’ve yet to get over their euphoria from being elected. They’ve yet to fully internalize that winning warriors rely on their allies and warriors on their own side, as much as on themselves.

One last point: global warming is an existential threat to our entire species. But what does that fact suggest? Is it better strategy to fight for life itself by screaming and flailing about? Or is it better to think first, long and hard, and have a cold, hard, calculated strategy in which every tactic and every speech propels us toward the goal? (To see how Biden is preparing an all-fronts assault on global warming, using all the federal government’s resources, click here.)

So as much as I admire and cheer their youth and spunk, disappointed progressives will have to focus on the possible now. They can work with their local leaders to implement the most progressive policies that their districts will support. Then they can come to a larger public and say, “This works, and we’ve shown how.” In general, the best way to validate means is on a small scale, whether it’s in the laboratory or in the first clinical trial of a treatment or vaccine.

But for national programs, policies and approaches, everyone should follow the leadership of grizzled veterans like Joe Biden, Nancy Pelosi, and Jim Clyburn. Barack Obama should lead, too, if he joins the struggle again now that Biden/Harris have won. (I’ve suggested that he serve as Secretary of State, exploiting his still-stellar reputation abroad to repair our alliances and global standing.)

These veterans have fought and won wars against the greatest propaganda and delusion machine our species has ever known. They’ve beaten history’s most talented demagogue ever. They’ve saved our democracy, at least for the moment, from an internal tyranny of lies and bullying that over 70 million voters didn’t just accept, but welcomed. Their victories, if not their age and long experience, deserve respect. They who won are the leaders to follow.

Endnote on Global Warming. As an ex-scientist, I’m acutely aware of the danger of runaway positive feedback in global warming. (See also, this earlier, more explanatory post.) I believe (but can’t prove) that the most alarmist official projections so far have been understated. In my view, global warming will, within a decade, dwarf the current Covid-19 pandemic as a cause of global human suffering.

So I fully appreciate, indeed laud, the zeal and persistence of youthful leaders like Greta Thunberg and our most progressive pols in pushing for a quick and comprehensive solution. But widespread political will must precede action.

The problem is twofold. First, our investment as a species in stranded assets for finding, extracting, refining and using fossil fuels is enormous, probably the biggest in our history. Much of that investment will end up being pure economic waste, although a some of it can be converted to new sources of energy. Second, millions of workers owe their livelihoods to an industry that we must phase out to thrive, and maybe to survive, as a species. If all those workers are left high and dry—or even believe they have been—we may have Trumpism 2.0 and perhaps even global conflict.

The problem is not science or engineering. We know we have already passed the first danger level of CO2 in our atmosphere. We know that renewable sources of energy can meet our needs and that nuclear energy can be made safe with better power-plant designs. We know that we can convert, even globally, if everybody agrees and puts their backs to the wheel.

So the problem is not knowing why or how. It’s politics. It’s convincing the whole world to join together in a massive energy conversion that some nations and regions will find more difficult than others, and that will disrupt the lives and expectations of nations, regions, industries and tens of millions of workers.

We won’t get there by shouting, haranguing, or threatening, or by marching in the streets. We’re going to have to convince and cajole every nation, region, industry and worker on this planet to take part. That’s a political problem, not a scientific or technical one. And that’s why we need political leaders with extraordinary experience, talent and skill.

Like positive feedback, politics is nonlinear. It doesn’t proceed in a straight line. It acts in a series of epiphanies, awakenings and (in the worst case) revolutions. An example is US Caucasians’ vast awakening to the current systematic oppression of Black people and other minorities after the series of murders that culminated (but didn’t end) with the police murder of George Floyd. The huge discrepancy in pandemic suffering between majority and minority communities also helped spur the awakening.

Maybe next summer, after the fog of Trumpism and fear of the Pandemic have lifted a bit, people will see the looming threat of hurricanes, floods, wildfires, heat waves, tornadoes, rising seas, dwindling glaciers, waning supplies of fresh water, and poleward-marching tropical diseases. Maybe then they will have their epiphany about global warming. Maybe it won’t happen for two or three more summers of radically increasing “natural” catastrophes.

But whenever the inevitable agony comes, it will take talented, seasoned pols to turn it into prompt and decisive action. That’s when we’ll need not just the most zealous and committed, but the most experienced, realistic, veteran pols we have: the ones with the best global connections and the broadest trust among their own people. Only they can move us collectively from goals to collective will to means that work and that people support.

Permalink to this post

08 November 2020

Just Shut Him Off


For brief descriptions of and links to recent posts, click here. For an inverse-chronological list with links to all posts after January 23, 2017, click here. For a subject-matter index to posts before that date, click here.

The dirty little secret of our now-fading national nightmare is that our media made Donald Trump. First they made him a celebrity with his “reality” show “The Apprentice.” Then they made him president.

They’ve made him the obsessive focus of our collective attention for over five years now, ever since he rode that escalator down to throw his hat in the ring. They’ve reported his every falsehood, boast, profanity, bigotry, idiocy and Tweet as if it were the Word of God. They did this throughout his campaign and his presidency. Many media outlets, but recently not PBS, are still doing this today.

Trump is now 74 years old. He cut his teeth on “celebrity” before the word “clickbait” existed. But the vast majority of what he has said and done during his campaign and his presidency is clickbait. It’s words thrown out into the mediasphere to shock, dismay, mock, startle, insult, disgust and outrage people. It’s words and (on video) grotesque grimaces and shouts for the sole purpose of gaining attention, demeaning a rival or getting the cameras to turn Trump’s way. Trump has been our very first clickbait president.

It doesn’t matter whether the words make sense or bear the slightest resemblance to reality. Their purpose is to attract attention, distract and confuse. That they have done effectively and relentlessly, with virtually all our media providing a megaphone and an echo chamber.

Our media magnified Trump’s clickbait willingly and often enthusiastically. Social media like Twitter, Facebook and YouTube were the worst offenders. They fine-tuned their algorithms to elevate and magnify clickbait. The more eyeballs a Tweet or post attracts, the more “likes” it accretes. Then the higher it climbs in an algorithm’s lifeless esteem. The sooner it appears in the list of links that fill your screen.

Just so Trump has used not just social media, but TV and the print media, too. He’s used them the same way a child uses a loud voice at a pool party to impose on his parents and all who can see or hear him. “Mom and Dad, everybody, look at meeee!”

These bad media habits betrayed decency, good order, rational government and simple common sense. They relied on a grossly immoral and undemocratic syllogism: sensationalism sells “news,” sales make profit, and profit is good. There was also a big dose of herd mentality. How can we stop if everyone is doing it? That’s the way democracies die and tyrannies creep up unnoticed.

Trump’s meteoric rise to the White House and the media’s complicity in his grotesque misrule were pretty much that simple. They damn near lost us our Republic, as Franklin had warned, not to mention our souls. They’ve maimed real patriotism, brutalized our standard of living, and lost 230,000 lives and counting.

Of course there are plausible excuses. Trump was, after all, a candidate for president and then the president himself. Isn’t everything a presidential candidate and president says ipso facto important?

Not really. Our media never really exercised much judgment on this point. The more startling, false, outrageous or hostile was what Trump said, the higher up on the page and the clickbait list it went. Truth and perspective got left behind in the mad rush for ears and eyeballs in an industry with a business model under electronic siege.

Trump is not stupid. He’s always had a keen, base cunning about all the things that drive bad souls. He used this cunning to make the front page and evening news almost every day. He “won” especially on otherwise “slow news days,” instinctively keeping us all off balance and in a state of constant apprehension, confusion and anxiety. The only thing Trump has been superbly effective at doing is transferring his personal psychosis to a nation of 330 million people.

Only media researchers in their ivory towers know how many hits, reads and “likes” he got this way. He did it all with words alone—rarely deeds—regardless of whether or not they contained any truth or real information or had any practical effect. Long-term thinking died and got buried deep under a daily barrage of Tweets, magnified and repeated endlessly in our media’s print and electronic echo chambers. Our media gave Trump’s Big Lies an ideal habitat in which to thrive.

Take Trump’s “big, beautiful Wall” along our border with Mexico, for example. It has a goal of reaching 450 miles by year end. Only nine miles of it are brand new; the rest is repairs of decayed and destroyed wall. On a border that’s 1,954 miles long in all, that’s a promise 0.4% fulfilled. Not a single centimeter has Mexico paid for.

Trump won power, misused it, and left our ship of state dead in the water by treating attention as if it were votes or achievements. It’s not. Eventually, that mistake lost Trump this election, albeit by a slim margin. Now, as we all awaken from Trump’s spell, we find we’ve been drifting aimlessly for nearly four years, while fighting phantoms and each other.

What gives us hope is our media’s recent, surprisingly quick transformation. Ever since they began to see that Trump was losing, their fall toward reason and professionalism has become an avalanche. Practically overnight, social media started stamping Trump’s lies as false, suspicious or unverified. Even TV started dubbing them as “not true,” “false” or even “lies.”

In other words, only after it was clear that Trump was losing did our media begin to consider truth and practical significance in deciding what to report. Before that, they all quailed to ignore his most outrageously false or self-evidently trivial blather.

This is courage? This is journalism?

Might Trump’s misrule have been shorter and less horrific if the media had been more professional and more devoted to reporting only what’s important and not demonstrably false? We’ll never know. You don’t get to rerun history.

But one thing is now clear. Joe Biden’s election as president has produced a near-universal sigh of relief. It’s not fun, reassuring or uplifting to spend each day hearing and watching our leaders hurl new and unfamiliar accusations against each other, call each other names, and fight like children on a playground. It’s demeaning and exhausting to view almost everything that happens—no matter how trivial or consequence-free—with alarm and foreboding.

People can take only so much disgust, revulsion, alarm and outrage. Their minds can process only so many conspiracy theories. They can follow only so many convoluted charges and countercharges. Even the most disciplined minds can handle only so many distractions and irrelevancies before they lose focus.

Our media supercharged the national sickness spawned by a diseased and utterly self-focused mind. They made little visible effort to sift the wheat from the chaff. They left us feeling exhausted and confused, not just in general, but incrementally more every single day.

That, I think, is where we are as a nation today. Despite all the angst and hand-wringing, no coup is really likely. There may have been 71 million votes for Trump, but there will be no insurrection, let alone a new civil war.

Trump’s followers may be tired and dispirited. Some of them may be angry and prone to violence. But the vast majority of us all just seems emotionally exhausted. Deep down, if only semi-consciously, we want the steady diet of trivia, baseless suspicion, constant quibbling and discord to end.

Whatever side voters may be on, what they feel most now is neither triumph nor resentment, but fatigue and relief. We all want our government to become helpful, effective, competent and mostly silent again. We want to get on with our lives (and fight the pandemic) with some confidence that the people who lead us are working and thinking, not just blathering, and trying to do right.

This collective state of mind offers chances both for the Biden Transition Team to gain popular confidence and for our media to redeem themselves.

For the Transition Team, the path is straight and clear. Besides soothing words of peace, reconciliation and willingness to listen, it ought to say nothing at all for at least two weeks. Let the public know that “working for you” means actually thinking, planning and working, not mouthing off. Stop relying on words alone, whose value has plummeted like the price of oil in the pandemic. When the time comes, take only action, and then only action that soothes and reassures.

To this end the Biden/Harris team should announce a Cabinet of universally respected and highly experienced public servants, including some moderate Republicans. (Trump sycophants and lackeys of course should not apply.)

If they want to help save our country, our media’s best course is to turn Trump’s volume down. In 72 days, he will be a private citizen. His bizarre claims and ideas will have no legal force. They will influence only his party and his true believers, who are leaving his side like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

Why continue to spread and magnify the influence of false, even bizarre, charges from a man who has used his mouth and Tweets to bring a great nation to its knees? If nothing else, the media can reduce the mental bandwidth that this crazy would-be tyrant monopolizes. They can report what he says only when it has legal force or, through direct influence on others, short-term practical effect. As nearly four dismal years have shown, that doesn’t happen very often.

I know, I know. All this requires judgment and discretion. Our media are not just private profit machines, although many of them act that way. They are our precious Fourth Estate. Without them, democracy withers and dies. So each journalist has a profound duty far beyond his or her career path and paycheck. Better do one’s duty too late than not at all.

In 72 days, Trump’s words and acts will have no direct national effect whatsoever. Their indirect effect—both now and then—would best be tallied by reporting how other people known for honesty and common sense react. That’s what the media suddenly started doing with Trump’s frivolous challenges to the election. Their abrupt change of course was a breath of cool, fresh air.

So let’s rid ourselves of this perfervid generator of lies, hate and discord by a simple but powerful stratagem. Let’s ignore him. Let his fevered excuse for a brain invent a thousand conspiracies that no one joins, and to which no one pays any attention. Let’s just shut him off.

Permalink to this post

06 November 2020

Airline Amnesia


For brief descriptions of and links to recent posts, click here. For an inverse-chronological list with links to all posts after January 23, 2017, click here. For a subject-matter index to posts before that date, click here.

Biden/Harris Won!!!

A little after noon today—Saturday, November 7, 2020—the AP, the New York Times and “every major TV news network” called Nevada and Pennsylvania, and therefore the election, for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.

The race for the White House, although not every downballot race, is over! Our long national nightmare is over. Democracy, Reason and decency have triumphed, by a margin of over four million votes nationwide. Our modern mix of Commodus, Nero and Caligula may grumble, lie, sue and blaspheme, but he’s on the way out. Most of his erstwhile enablers know it and are heading for the exits.

Let’s be clear-eyed in thanking those to whom we owe this victory and this huge relief. Women voters and Black voters saved our democracy.

Stacey Abrams, in particular, may have helped flip Georgia, the state where the KKK used to gather at Stone Mountain, the center of regional resentment where Sherman once marched to the sea. A non-Southern Democrat may have won Georgia for the first time since JFK in 1960. (Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter, both Southerners, also won in between.)

We might not know for weeks which way Georgia went; the margin is that close. But even if the Dem ticket lost by a tiny margin, Abrams will continue her relentless push toward majority rule. Quiet as an electric-powered bulldozer, she is as irresistible as history. The second biggest story of this day is her New South, which will soon deliver a whole new nation.

Yes, there’s still a lot of work to do. This has been a grim and foreboding year. But the darkest hour is just before dawn, and the Sun is rising. It’s time to dance in the streets.


The principal post follows:

For a few days yet, we’ll all be biting our fingernails waiting for the vote counting to end. So it may be helpful to think about other important things. One of them is why the global airline industry is all but shut down.

The industry began just a few decades after the Wright Brothers proved the feasibility of controlled flight. Aircraft companies made planes that could carry passengers. Scheduled flights began. The federal government helped subsidize the budding industry by paying it to carry mail and packages for the Post Office.

But after a few well-publicized fatal crashes, the industry’s growth took a big hit. All but the bravest passengers feared to fly.

At that time, we were a different country. We believed in reality, science, engineering and cause and effect. We tried to solve problems in fact. We didn’t put so much money and effort into marketing, advertising, public relations and “making our own reality.” So instead of trying to distract the public’s attention from the very real fatal crashes, all of us—industry, government, engineers and planners—sat down to make air travel safer.

The result was massive and willing cooperation between industry and federal regulators. The airlines saw that they needed to make flight safer and that an independent federal regulatory agency would reassure the public.

Two federal regulatory bodies came to control the industry. The first was the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), which still exists today. It controls all aspects of aircraft design, construction, certification, and maintenance. Its staff meticulously specifies and records the design, use, and history of every critical part of every airplane. As a result, the FAA knows more about the vital parts of an airplane and their history than the entire federal government knows about the people riding in it. The FAA also controls the education, training and certification of pilots.

The second federal regulator was economic. Now defunct, it was called the Civil Aeronautics Board (CAB). Its job was to insure that the airline companies that managed the planes were as safe and sound as the planes themselves. It controlled all aspects of the industry, including pricing, quality, and capacity. It set air fares, in advance, for all scheduled flights. In doing so, it made generous allowances for profit, so that no airline would be tempted to skimp on quality or safety.

For decades, this dual regulatory system worked beautifully. The industry grew explosively, and air travel became both safe and comfortable. Maybe prices were a little higher than they absolutely had to be for safety, but the public was happy and the accident rate was low. As everyone who once flew now knows, it was—before Covid-19—far safer to get on a plane than to drive your own car, let alone the same distance.

Then came Ronald Reagan and the first decade of deregulatory mania. Reagan and the economists who backed him decided that competition, not regulation, was the thing. They abolished the CAB in 1985 and let the industry set its own standards for pricing and comfort, through competition.

The FAA kept doing its job as an independent guardian of safety. But as time went on, it got captured by the industry it was supposed to regulate. More and more of its oversight was “delegated” to the very firms that the CAB’s abolition had cast on the tender mercies of no-holds-barred competition.

One result was the unnecessary crashes of two—count ‘em, two—737 Maxes, killing all on board, before the FAA started to do its job. The passengers and crews—all 346 of them—had died for deregulation. And foreign air regulators, not our own once-leading FAA, were the first to ban the defective plane from the skies.

Other results of this “new” regime are now clear. Air travel is now much cheaper than it used to be. But it’s also much less convenient and comfortable and less safe. Aircraft cabins are designed to pack as many passengers as possible into the smallest amount of space. Knees hit the back of the seat ahead, even for smaller people like me, let alone big people. Obese people, of whom we have many, drape their arms, and sometimes their fat, over the armrests in both directions. And toilets are so tiny that even a small, light person like me has trouble taking off his coat, let alone turning around.

Then came Covid-19, and the industry came apart. There was, and is, no authority setting the rules. The FAA won’t touch the pandemic. The TSA, a third agency tasked to stop in-flight terrorism, won’t even take temperatures, which anyway let 40% of carriers through. Every airline has its own rules, procedures and promotions, making things up as it goes along. Many flights advertise social distancing, but some planes end up nearly full nevertheless, because that’s how airlines make money. When private hands control safety, the all-American rule of “profit first” wins, and people get sick and die.

So hundreds of aircraft, each of which cost hundreds of millions to make, are now lined up in desert parking lots while the industry stagnates. I recently saw one of these big parking lots east of Tehachapi, CA, while driving from Santa Fe, NM, to Berkeley, CA. I would rather have flown, had it been safe.

Some of this havoc is the result of confusion and conflicting information—an inevitable consequence of dealing with a brand new pandemic. We’ve all had a steep learning curve to climb.

But over half a year has passed since the first lockdown. Scientists worldwide have been studying Covid-19 diligently in hospitals, on our streets and in the laboratory. We now know, for example, that active viruses on surfaces (so-called “fomites”) are a minor and perhaps even negligible source of contagion. By far the most dangerous source is getting close to an infected person, for more than a short time, without masks. The infectious viruses travel by air, in droplets and aerosols, and the fewer viruses you inhale with them, the less serious your disease.

So masks work. We know that now. Since we don’t have a vaccine or anything like a cure, they, passenger distancing, and mandatory pre-boarding testing are the only things that can make air travel reasonably safe from contagion.

Airlines can filter the cabin air all they like and obsessively sterilize every surface you might touch. But if the person sitting right next to you is wearing no mask, mostly taking it off, or consistently wearing it under the nostrils (as so many do), and if he or she is infected, you are likely to catch the bug. Then you may either get sick or, as a carrier without symptoms, get others sick. Temperature checks are next to useless as 40% of infected people, on average, have no symptoms, including elevated temperatures.

So making air travel as safe as it can be right now is relatively simple. Make every passenger wear a mask, and hand out N-95 masks (the best) at the entry to the boarding area. Require every passenger, before boarding, to have a certified testing agency transmit a negative result from a test taken within 24 hours earlier. Won’t these simple expedients be less expensive—and more reliable—than obsessively sterilizing surfaces and reconfiguring cabin air systems?

Sure, there are scofflaws. But an airline once injured a Korean-American doctor by dragging him forcibly off an aircraft just because it was overbooked and he didn’t leave after a computer “volunteered” him to give up his seat. Do that with mask scofflaws, in a few well-publicized cases, and noncompliance will disappear. Then prohibit eating or drinking on short flights, except maybe in lounge areas, and serve adjacent passengers consecutively on long ones, so at least one is always wearing a mask.

So why isn’t this happening? Beats me.

The best I can figure is that we’ve all drunk the Kool-Aid of personal “freedom,” consumer “choice,” and “competition,” in which airlines vie for customers by touting all sorts of things that won’t work, instead of the simplest and cheapest things we know work now.

If you have trouble remembering what works, just keep in mind that China, where the pandemic began, has now mostly beaten the bug. It has done so with simple blocking and tackling: testing, contact tracing, and quarantining and pedestrian traffic that looks like this.

So all it would take to begin to restore our airline industry is some leadership from the top. Whether or not the Dems take the Senate, Joe Biden can put the FAA on the job. His steady leadership, along with that of real experts like Anthony Fauci, can help cure the airlines’ regulation amnesia.

Intelligent regulation for safety rocketed the industry’s start. It can save the industry from Covid-19 today. Even if the experts require reduced-capacity flying, that will be better than the industry’s Covid free-fall to date. And any government subsidy needed to keep the industry alive (and its workers from destitution) would be much smaller with fuller flights of safer and more reassured passengers.

Endnote on Nasal Sprays and Seats: A genetically designed nasal spray has recently had some good results in preventing Covid-19 infection in ferrets. If it turns out to be safe and effective for humans, airlines could offer it to passengers before boarding, even for long international flights. (It’s supposed to work for 24 hours.)

But the nasal spray may take as long or longer to test thoroughly than a vaccine. In the meantime, masks, testing, contact tracing and quarantining are all we know works now. So we can have a well-regulated partial recovery of air travel, or we can endure more chaos and regulatory amnesia.

As for seating, I had interesting experience. About a dozen years ago, I had to take a short flight from Detroit to Akron, Ohio. The aircraft was a prop plane run by a minor airline and outmoded to boot. As I approached it, my heart sank. But as I got aboard, I saw its seats and perked up. All were as big as first-class seats today, and they were leather.

Regulation can’t and shouldn’t dictate the size and upholstery of seats, except for safety. But maybe a regulatory regime less focused on all-out, no-rules competition might encourage airlines to treat coach travelers less like cattle. At least we economy-class travelers can dream.

Permalink to this post