RSN: Isaac Chotiner | Rich Countries Should Subsidize Vaccination Worldwide
31 January 21
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Isaac Chotiner | Rich Countries Should Subsidize Vaccination Worldwide
Isaac Chotiner, The New Yorker
Chotiner writes: "More than half of all available COVID-19 vaccine doses have been ordered by wealthier nations; meanwhile, many of the world's poorest countries may be unable to vaccinate more than a fifth of their populations by the end of this year."
A team of economists affiliated with the University of Maryland, Harvard University, and Koç University, in Turkey, recently published a study about the potentially disastrous consequences, emphasizing both economic and moral imperatives for increasing worldwide access to COVID-19 vaccines. The authors of the study (which was commissioned by the International Chamber of Commerce) found that unequal vaccine access among countries will likely lead to a “total cost for the world” between $1.8 trillion and $3.8 trillion, with up to half the losses paid for by wealthier nations. In contrast, the cost of vaccinating one-fifth of the world’s vulnerable population, as the World Health Organization’s COVAX initiative aims to do, would cost less than forty billion dollars, with expenses decreasing over time.
I recently spoke over Zoom with Selva Demiralp and Muhammed A. Yildirim, two of the paper’s authors. Demiralp, a professor of economics at Koç University, previously worked at the Federal Reserve Board in Washington, D.C. Yildirim is an assistant professor at Koç University and an associate at the Center for International Development, at Harvard. During our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, we discussed the biggest problems the global economy will face if poor countries go unvaccinated, why certain government efforts to prevent economic collapse have worked better than others, and why policymakers don’t always plan well for the future.
Equitable distribution of vaccines across countries is important for reasons of fairness and human decency, but why is it important for the self-interest of wealthier nations?
Muhammed A. Yildirim: Let me say that I think the moral argument is the most important argument, but moral arguments sometimes don’t work. We still have a lot of poverty in the world. We still have all the things that we are dealing with, like global warming and so forth. But putting that aside, we are living in this super interconnected world, right? So everything that we do, any item that we use, some parts come from China, some parts come from Mexico, and everything is co-integrated and gives us the products that we use every day. So, as economists, we simplify; we try to understand how this works. So we divide these types of interactions into categories.
The first category is final goods: the iPhone that we use as consumers, or computers that we use, or the bar of soap that we use in our everyday life. When it comes to also making these final goods, there are a lot of intermediate skills that are exchanged between countries and industries. And those are also affected. Because, if Turkey is experiencing the pandemic, let’s say, and the United States is not, and Turkish workers are experiencing sickness and so forth, what would happen is that Turkish workers would not be able to make the intermediate inputs needed for the U.S. industries to be used in their final products.
On the other hand, Turkey also makes some final products. And those also use intermediate inputs from the United States. American producers wouldn’t be able to send their intermediate inputs to Turkey. But this is not just two countries; this is happening globally. So, if you treat this disease in advanced countries only, because of the trade relationships, the advanced economies will still be affected tremendously. So that’s the bottom line of the paper. Even without the moral argument, if you’re thinking about this in terms of return on your investment, it makes sense to do this investment of vaccinating other nations.
Selva Demiralp: As economists, when we make decisions, we compare the costs with the benefits. So, in the paper, we calculate the costs of inequitable distribution of vaccines. And, under certain assumptions—and suppose we say advanced economies are vaccinated in half a year, and emerging markets can only vaccinate half of their population by the end of the year—in this scenario, we find that total global costs can be as high as $3.8 trillion. And advanced economies, due to the links that Muhammed mentioned, bear about fifty per cent of this. So, then, what we are comparing is if you contribute to something like COVAX and enable two billion doses of vaccines, you just need twenty-seven billion dollars more. But, if you don’t, and you allow the rest of the world to suffer, and let the pandemic drag down their economies, then advanced economies are going to face something close to two trillion dollars. So, when you compare twenty-seven billion dollars with something close to two trillion dollars, then the decision is trivial for an economist—you should actually invest in this COVAX initiative and avoid paying a higher toll down the road.
I think the way many people perceive the relationship between richer countries and poorer countries now is that poorer countries produce goods that rich countries then consume in some way. Why is this too simplistic?
S.D.: Clearly the relationship is much more complicated. Rich countries also have export relationships. They produce and sell to emerging markets, so, if emerging markets are still suffering from the pandemic because their income levels are low, they won’t be able to afford those goods from advanced economies. So advanced economies won’t be able to sell those exports to emerging markets. That’s one channel, plus advanced economies also import intermediate goods from emerging markets; you use those goods in order to produce your final good. So, if Turkey produces steel, which is imported by America to produce a car, and if Turkey is suffering from the pandemic, there are lockdowns and we cannot produce that steel. Then the United States won’t be able to produce the final product, which is the car. So American production is going to decline because of the ongoing pandemic in Turkey.
M.A.Y.: We looked at the industrial costs in the advanced economies and emerging markets and compared them. The most affected sectors are the manufacturing sectors, because they need the imports from the other countries. So it’s not the case that supply chains were simply divided into raw materials versus final goods, or that emerging markets were providing the cheap goods. It has become so much more interconnected in the last twenty years or so. So, when we look at the results at the industrial level, in the advanced economies, it’s the manufacturing sectors that get affected the most. In the emerging markets, it’s the service sectors, because, in the emerging markets, owing to the ongoing pandemic, people still cannot go to a restaurant.
S.D.: In the paper, we look at the sector of costs ranked from the lowest to highest for advanced economies and emerging markets in our hypothetical scenario, assuming that advanced economies get the vaccine and emerging markets don’t. The story in emerging markets is very similar to the story that we lived through in 2020, all around the world. We have seen how the services sector collapsed because people are avoiding consuming services that require close proximity.
We say that, in 2021, if emerging markets don’t receive the vaccination, the same story is going to repeat for them. But, for advanced economies, their trade exposure to emerging markets is going to be proportional to their exposure to unvaccinated emerging markets. So the more a particular sector either buys or sells goods to a sector from an emerging market, then the higher the costs borne by the particular sector are going to be.
Which sectors in advanced economies, generally, are most central to what you’re talking about?
S.D.: Agriculture and fishing, wholesale and retail manufacturing, or basic metals: these are the top three most severely affected sectors for advanced economies. And, if we dig down to look at what causes that, we see that their exposure to unvaccinated countries is higher compared with the other sectors.
We’ve now had the pandemic for almost a year. Most people around the world have not been vaccinated, even in rich countries, and we’ve seen a global economic shock. But, at least in the United States and in most of Europe, there aren’t shortages of goods that I’m aware of. You can still buy what you bought before. What have governments done over the past ten months to prevent these shocks to the supply chain that you’re talking about?
S.D.: Well, for one thing, demand declined, and then supply declined. So that’s one reason that we don’t see shortages in the market. And the second factor is that there were unprecedented amounts of monetary and fiscal stimulus. And we have seen that the Federal Reserve has actually done what it had done during the 2008 crisis. They lowered interest rates to zero. They pumped trillions of dollars into the economy. So the idea was to keep the demand alive and allow those households that are most severely affected from the pandemic to have a subsistence level of income. But that clearly doesn’t mean that the demand remains intact. Over-all global G.D.P. declined by about five per cent in 2020, but it could have been worse.
M.A.Y.: Those are the things that government intervention helped with. It would have been much worse. We had a paper about emerging markets and so forth prior to this, and we advised governments to spend. Without the government help, we would have seen shortages. We would have seen many industries collapsing.
S.D.: The pandemic started, and governments were considering lockdown policies, and we wanted to calculate the economic costs for Turkey and emerging markets. And what we have shown in that paper is that an early lockdown policy that effectively contains the pandemic is going to minimize the economic damage, because the sooner the pandemic is controlled, the sooner demand is going to normalize, and the sooner supply is going to be back into force. There won’t be any further people who get sick and drop out of the labor force, and you won’t need to implement lockdown. So one thing I can say is that if we compare those governments that implemented an early and effective lockdown, they were able to shield themselves against the pandemic. And, for them, there were fewer production interruptions on the supply side, and demand was also stronger in places like New Zealand or Sweden or Australia.
Your latest paper is making this point that as unequal as vaccine distribution may be, the economic hit is actually going to be more equal. But the economic hit of the coronavirus has hit rich countries less so far, because they have been able to provide more government support, correct?
S.D.: It depends on the particular policy approach that you have adopted. In terms of growth numbers, the economies of poor countries contracted more than the rich countries. That being said, however, I can say, in general, countries where there’s a larger informal sector were hit more heavily, because most of the stimulus packages or direct transfers are essentially channelled to the formal sector. A country like Turkey doesn’t really receive its fair share.
M.A.Y.: If you give people money through credit, people go buy luxury stuff, right? Like luxury cars. It’s a different type of economic stimulus than if you give money directly to the people in need and ask them to spend.
S.D.: I believe the share of direct transfers compared with G.D.P. is about ten per cent for the United States, but that number was more like five per cent for Turkey, for example, when we did the comparison. And it is important because, in the credit-growth-based stimulus packages, only those people who can have access, who’re eligible to get credit from the bank, will be able to protect themselves. But, in the case of a direct transfer, you actually can target the sectors that are most affected from the pandemic and provide strict income transfers.
Correct me if this is wrong, but in addition to the fairness of getting money to people who are suffering, they’re the most likely to spend the highest percentage of it, too, right?
S.D.: Yes. And advanced economies definitely did better because they could afford more. It’s not actually just the fact that you can afford more. It is also where your budget deficit was when the pandemic started, because, technically, even if you’re a poor country, you can borrow, you can increase your budget deficit, and you can provide the stimulus. But countries that started the pandemic at a bad time, if you already had a high budget deficit, like Turkey, we didn’t have much fiscal space to provide further stimulus. So I guess that’s another thing. If your macroeconomic balances were already healthy when the pandemic started, those countries were able to implement both accommodative fiscal policy and monetary policy, which would be able to offset the negative impact of the pandemic better.
You talk about this philanthropic initiative to pay for vaccines. And the total cost is about thirty-eight billion dollars, correct?
M.A.Y.: We’re saying twenty per cent of the vulnerable population [can be vaccinated with that]. Hopefully, with time, these costs go down, right? Because the vaccines are new, and they’re in the production process. Maybe next year the prices will go down per vaccine. So it’s not going to be five times thirty-eight billion dollars over all.
O.K. But even if thirty-eight billion dollars covers only twenty per cent of the vulnerable population, and even if the prices didn’t go down, we’re still talking less than two hundred billion dollars over all. Without vaccination, the economic losses you’re talking about are several trillion, even for rich countries alone. So this seems like a no-brainer—national governments should step in and just foot the bill.
S.D.: That’s our message.
M.A.Y.: And that’s the argument that you want to support on top of the moral argument, right? Because, when you talk about the moral argument, it was more about “O.K., this is a humanitarian crisis. We should be helping everybody.” You can think of it as poverty. But then we think about poverty, and what governments think about poverty, and development budgets for many countries are less than two per cent of their budget and so forth. But this is something more than a charity thing, right? This is more about an investment for your future.
S.D.: Just to reiterate, our argument is that this is not an act of charity. It’s an act of economic rationality. And the over-all message is that, when emerging markets suffer, advanced economies are going to suffer as well from an economic perspective. The prologue for our working paper is actually a quote from John Donne, “No man is an island.” So we are actually saying that, look, the suffering from other people’s losses is going to affect you in an economic way. So we say no economy is an island and that we are all connected.
There wasn’t enough testing in the United States initially, and people wondered why the government didn’t just spend a ton of money on testing, because it was clearly going to help contain the epidemic, which would help the economy. I don’t know how often a version of this has come up in every national economy, but it does seem to me as a general matter that governments should be very proactive.
S.D.: I would say that when there’s uncertainty it blurs our vision. And sometimes what seems to be very trivial is not necessarily implemented. The same thing happened with mask use. It became very political. And even though a simple mask could have been as effective as a vaccine, governments, especially the United States, didn’t push them. And sometimes a decision, even though the decision might be clear, the governments may have different political views. And, sometimes, although it may be clear to economists, maybe we cannot convey the messages to politicians. For example, at the earliest stages, everybody thought there was a trade-off. Should we save lives? Or should we save economies? But, at that point, very early on, we were saying with our first paper that there is no such trade-off. Even if you keep economies open, people will get worried about the number of cases, and you won’t be able to normalize demand because people will distance themselves from the rest of the world in a voluntary way.
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Bernie Sanders. (photo: Joseph Cress/Iowa Press Citizen)
Sanders Says Democrats Have the Votes to Pass Another Relief Bill
Joseph Choi, The Hill
Choi writes: "Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) on Sunday said that he believes Senate Democrats have the votes to pass another COVID-19 relief package."
READ MORE
Pro-Trump protesters gather in front of the U.S. Capitol Building on January 6, 2021 in Washington, D.C. (photo: Brent Stirton/Getty Images)
How the Christian Right Helped Foment Insurrection
Sarah Posner, Reveal
Posner writes: "The January 6th Save America March, where then-president Donald Trump incited a crowd to attack the U.S. Capitol, opened with a prayer. Trump's longtime spiritual adviser and White House adviser, the Florida televangelist Paula White, called on God to 'give us a holy boldness in this hour.'"
Christian-right activists inside and outside of government promoted the election fraud lie and claimed God told them to “let the church roar”
Standing at the same podium where, an hour later, Trump would exhort the crowd to “fight like hell,” White called the election results into question, asking God to let the people “have the assurance of a fair and a just election.” Flanked by a row of American flags, White implored God to “let every adversary against democracy, against freedom, against life, against liberty, against justice, against peace, against righteousness be overturned right now in the name of Jesus.”
Within hours, insurrectionists had surrounded the Capitol, beaten police, battered down barricades and doors, smashed windows and rampaged through the halls of the Capitol, breaching the Senate chamber. In video captured by The New Yorker, men ransacked the room, rifling through senators’ binders and papers, searching for evidence of what they claimed was treason. Then, standing on the rostrum where the president of the Senate presides, the group paused to pray “in Christ’s holy name.” Men raised their arms in the air as millions of evangelical and charismatic parishioners do every Sunday and thanked God for allowing them “to send a message to all the tyrants, the communists and the globalists, that this is our nation, not theirs.” They thanked God “for allowing the United States of America to be reborn.”
White evangelicals have been Trump’s most dedicated, unwavering base, standing by him through the cavalcade of abuses, failures and scandals that engulfed his campaigns and his presidency — from the Access Hollywood tape to his first impeachment to his efforts to overturn the election and incite the Capitol Riot. This fervent relationship, which has survived the events of January 6th, is based on far more than a transactional handshake over judicial appointments and a crackdown on abortion and LGBTQ rights. Trump’s white evangelical base has come to believe that God anointed him and that Trump’s placement of Christian-right ideologues in critical positions at federal agencies and in federal courts was the fulfillment of a long-sought goal of restoring the United States as a Christian nation. Throughout Trump’s presidency, his political appointees implemented policies that stripped away reproductive and LGBTQ rights and tore down the separation of church and state in the name of protecting unfettered religious freedom for conservative Christians. After Joe Biden won the presidency, Trump administration loyalists launched their own Christian organization to “stop the steal,” in the ultimate act of loyalty to their divine leader.
Since even before Trump took office, his cry of “fake news” was embraced by GOP leaders and leaders on the Christian right, who reinforced their followers’ fealty by seeking to sequester them from reality and training them to dismiss any criticism of Trump as a witch hunt or a hoax. At the 2019 Faith & Freedom Coalition conference, held just months after special counsel Robert Mueller released his report on the Russia investigation, then-Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell accused the president’s critics of “Trump derangement syndrome,” and Sen. Marsha Blackburn, a Republican from Tennessee, urged the audience to disregard mainstream news and turn instead to the “most important name in news” — “you and your circle of friends.” A few months later, amid Trump’s first impeachment hearings, then-Rep. Mark Meadows, who would go on to become Trump’s chief of staff, encouraged Christian-right activists at a luncheon at the Trump International Hotel in Washington to counteract news reports by retweeting him and other Trump loyalists in Congress. He underlined the power of this alternative information system, claiming that recent tweets from himself and Rep. Jim Jordan of Ohio — who would later vote to overturn the results of November’s election — had received 163 million impressions, “more than the viewership of all the networks combined.”
Over the course of 2020, those circles of disinformation became infested with QAnon conspiracy theories about a satanic, child-sex-trafficking “deep state,” priming Trump’s White evangelical shock troops for his ultimate conspiratorial lie: that the election was stolen from him and that Biden’s victory was the result of fraud. As Trump and his legal team fanned out across the country’s courthouses and right-wing airwaves, insisting that they would prove voter fraud and reverse the results of the presidential election, Christian-right leaders and media picked up the rhetoric and ran with it. By Thanksgiving, the lie that the election had been stolen from Trump had become an article of faith.
Coverage of the Capitol insurrection has focused on such far-right instigators as the white supremacist Proud Boys and the Three Percenters, a militia group. But a reconstruction of the weeks leading up January 6th shows how a Christian-right group formed to “stop the steal” worked to foment a bellicose Christian narrative in defense of Trump’s coup attempt and justify a holy war against an illegitimate state. In late November, two federal workers, Arina Grossu — who had previously worked for the Christian-right advocacy group Family Research Council — and Rob Weaver, formed a new Christian right group, the Jericho March. The new group’s goal, according to a news release announcing its launch, was to “prayerfully protest and call on government officials to cast light on voter fraud, corruption, and suppression of the will of the American people in this election.” In fact, the Jericho March would help lay the groundwork for the insurrection.
The group held its first rally in the nation’s capital December 12th, the same day other protests against the democratic process took place there. That night in Washington, the protests devolved into violence as armed members of the Proud Boys roamed the city’s streets looking to fight, stole a Black Lives Matter banner from a historic Black church and set it on fire. The Jericho March rally, which had run most of the afternoon on the National Mall, featured a lineup of some the right’s most incendiary figures, blending conspiracies and battle cries with appeals to Christianity. Eric Metaxas, a popular author, radio host and unrelenting promoter of the false claim that the election was fraudulent, was the emcee.
In an interview from the rally posted on the influential disinformation site The Epoch Times, Weaver compared the marchers he enlisted to the capital to the story of Joshua’s army in the Bible, which encircled the city of Jericho as priests blew trumpets, causing the walls to tumble down so the army could invade. Grossu told an interviewer that the election had been “stolen” from Trump, citing Trump lawyer Sidney Powell’s baseless claims about voting irregularities. Grossu promised, “God can reveal all the election fraud and corruption that stole the election from him.”
Other Jericho March speakers linked to the Trump administration pressed themes of biblical war and Christian redemption. Michael Flynn, Trump’s former national security adviser who pleaded guilty to lying to federal investigators, described the walls of Jericho as a metaphor for the walls around the “deep state” and pledged, “We’re going to knock those walls down.” Trump campaign adviser Roger Stone, who claimed to have been born again since his conviction for obstructing the Mueller investigation, told the crowd in a recorded message: “It was Jesus Christ who gave our president, Donald Trump, the courage and the compassion to save my life when I was unfairly and illegally targeted in the Mueller witch hunt. … My faith is in Jesus Christ, and we will make America great again and we will stop the steal.” These testimonies were punctuated with the blowing of shofars, traditionally Jewish ritual objects, to echo the trumpets sounding outside Jericho that summoned an invasion.
Among the speakers were leading figures in the subsequent insurrection. Weaver and Grossu, the rally’s organizers, sang “God Bless America” with Ali Alexander, founder of Stop the Steal and a prominent organizer of the January 6th rally. Alexander had previously attracted attention in Trump circles – he was invited to a 2019 social media summit at the White House and appeared with GOP figures such as Rep. Paul Gosar at previous Stop the Steal rallies — and has said he worked with Gosar and Republican House members Andy Biggs and Mo Brooks to plan the January 6th rally. He rallied the December 12th Jericho March crowd, declaring that the event “is only the beginning.” He urged them to return to Washington on January 20th — Inauguration Day — to “occupy D.C.” According to an archived page from the Jericho March website, organizers took up the call, planning several subsequent rallies and marches, including mobilizing for Stop the Steal’s “Wild Protest” on January 6th.
Stewart Rhodes, founder of the militia group Oath Keepers, also appeared, vowing that if Trump did not “show the world who the traitors are and then use the Insurrection Act to drop the hammer on them,” then “we’re going to have to do it ourselves later in a much more desperate, much more bloody war.” Oath Keepers have since been arrested and charged with conspiracy for allegedly helping to coordinate movement inside the Capitol siege.
Alex Jones, the far-right conspiracist radio host and Trump booster, electrified the Jericho Marchers with his invocation of the Book of Revelation, thought to prophesy Christ’s return. “Christ’s crucifixion was not our defeat, it was our greatest victory,” he shouted. “The state has no jurisdiction over any of us. Our relationship with God is sacred and is eternal.” He vowed that Biden “will be removed, one way or another.
Grossu and Weaver, though, were more than just Trump fellow travelers. They were on the payroll of the federal government, which constrains employees from engaging in certain partisan political activities. Grossu was a contractor in the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services’ Office of Civil Rights, on a contract from November 6th, 2017, through January 30th, 2021, according to an agency spokesperson. For his part, Weaver was named an adviser in the department’s Center for Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnerships in July 2020 and served, according to the spokesperson, through January 8th, 2021. Earlier, in 2017, Trump had nominated Weaver to serve as director of the agency’s Indian Health Service. But the nomination was withdrawn after The Wall Street Journal reported that Weaver had misrepresented his experience on his resume. Weaver leveraged his new health department role at the Jericho March, saying in the live interview that day that he worked for the federal government and claiming, without providing any details, to have “seen a lot of really hidden things that I just can’t stand.” The country, Weaver said in the interview, “stands on the shoulders of Jesus. He’s the real government.”
Weaver went on, “God told me to let the church roar.”
Grossu did not respond to a request for comment, and Weaver’s email at the Department of Health and Human Services was no longer functioning; the public relations firm that handled Jericho March media relations also did not respond to requests for comment.
Speakers at the December 12th Jericho March continued to show up at protests decrying the election as fraudulent. Jones, for example, returned to Washington on January 5th for a rally at Freedom Plaza, near the White House. That rally, according to the permit, was hosted by a group called the Eighty Percent Coalition, an apparent reference to a Gallup poll that showed more than 80 percent of Republicans did not trust the results of the election. That evening, Jones reprised his Christian nationalist bombast. Employing apocalyptic language about a coming “new world order,” he called Biden a “slave of Satan” and warned that “things are going to be rough, things are going to get bad in the future.” He added that “not everybody is going to make it, but that’s OK, because in the end, God will fulfill his destiny and will reward the righteous.”
Then he turned to the next day’s events. “Tomorrow is a great day,” he shouted. “We don’t quietly take the election fraud, we don’t quietly take the scam and believe their BS. We’ve seen the evidence. The system has had to desperately engage in this gambit to maintain control, but this will be their Waterloo, this will be their destruction.”
The next day, Trump goaded protesters to march to the Capitol. Jones is seen in video footage of the insurrection scraped from Parler and other social media giving directions to rioters through a bullhorn. The day after the insurrection, Jones claimed the White House had asked him to lead the march to the Capitol.
The events of January 6th shook the nation, but they appear to have done little to weaken Trump’s White evangelical support. A Marist College/PBS/NPR poll, conducted after January 6th, found that 63 percent of White evangelicals did not trust the election results were accurate, and a similar number, 65 percent, did not believe Trump was to blame for the violence at the Capitol. A poll conducted by the Public Religion Research Institute found that while Trump left office with his lowest overall favorability rating since his 2016 campaign — 31 percent — his approval rate was twice as high among White evangelicals.
The Sunday after the insurrection, Trump’s spiritual adviser Paula White was back in the pulpit at City of Destiny, the church she pastors in Apopka, Florida. Trump and White have been friends since the mid-2000s, when he invited her for a meeting after he spotted the blond televangelist while channel surfing. White briefly condemned “lawlessness,” but then mounted a strong defense of free speech rights and assured her congregation that “God is still at work.” She recounted the story in the first Book of Samuel, in which the Philistines stole the Ark of the Covenant. In the biblical story, the ark is considered too holy for the apostate Philistines, “the eternal enemies of God,” as White described them, to handle, and God returns it to the Israelites — evidence that, in White’s view, God will restore America to its rightful inheritors, too.
Other evangelical leaders sought to deny reality, blaming the violence of that day on antifa or Black Lives Matter protesters who they falsely claimed had posed as Trump supporters. Michele Bachmann, the former Republican congresswoman who is now a dean at Regent University, had been inside the Capitol during the January 6th siege. Speaking to a prayer call with other Christian-right leaders that evening, she said: “You know the kind of people that we were with. The nicest, friendliest, happiest — it was like a family reunion out there. It was incredible, it was wonderful, and then all of a sudden, this happens.” Of the rioters at the Capitol, Bachmann insisted that “this wasn’t the Trump crowd, this didn’t look anything like the Trump crowd or the prayer warriors.”
Lance Wallnau, a popular evangelical author, speaker and Trump loyalist who attended the January 6th protest, echoed that same theme. “This is not your typical evangelical, I’m telling you right now,” he told Metaxas on his radio program the day after the insurrection, “and they’re banging on the hoods of the police and they’re creating a scene, I said, ‘This is the local antifa mob and this is like from the playbook 101.’ ”
By January 8th, the Jericho March had posted a statement denouncing violence and scrubbed any reference to Stop the Steal’s January 6th protest.
Accountability for the former president was not on the table. Pastor Robert Jeffress of First Baptist Church of Dallas has been close to Trump for years, as one of the first evangelical leaders to endorse his candidacy in 2016. He condemned the violence but stopped short of blaming it on Trump, telling Reveal from The Center for Investigative Reporting that while he accepts the election results, Trump “has a right to believe” that it was stolen.
Another influential Trump ally, Franklin Graham, head of the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, sent an unmistakable signal to Republican lawmakers that their White evangelical base would not tolerate a second impeachment. In a Facebook post, Graham compared the 10 House Republicans who voted to impeach Trump to Judas, whose betrayal of Jesus led to his crucifixion. “It makes you wonder,” he wrote, “what the thirty pieces of silver were that Speaker [Nancy] Pelosi promised for this betrayal.”
Meanwhile, the Christian right is readying its troops for an escalation of the culture war: a campaign to delegitimize not only Biden’s presidency, but any Democratic election victory. Bachmann, during the prayer call just hours after the insurrection, claimed that Democrats also “stole” control of the Senate when Jon Ossoff and Raphael Warnock won their seats in Georgia — a development Bachmann repeatedly called a “coup.”
That narrative means that Republican lawmakers can rest assured that their most loyal base will have their back as they reject Trump’s second impeachment, obstruct the Democratic legislative agenda and refuse to accept the legitimacy of the Democratic president and Democratic leadership of Congress. The movement’s new jeremiad, a battle against the democratic process itself, is just getting started.
On Wednesday, the Department of Homeland Security issued a terrorism advisory bulletin that warned of the potential costs of the false claims at the heart of that battle: “Information suggests that some ideologically-motivated violent extremists with objections to the exercise of governmental authority and the presidential transition, as well as other perceived grievances fueled by false narratives, could continue to mobilize to incite or commit violence.”
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Rep. Cori Bush. (photo: Drew Angerer/Getty Images)
Rep Cori Bush Reveals She Moved Offices After Rep Marjorie Taylor Greene Berated Her at the Capitol
Ishena Robinson, The Root
Robinson writes: "It's beyond clear that Republican Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene does not belong in Congress, as information continues to emerge that some of her favorite past-times are haranguing people and inciting violence."
Now Rep. Cori Bush has revealed that she’s had to go as far as moving into a different office to get further away from Greene’s, after the Republican and her staffers berated Bush during a recent encounter at the Capitol.
Yes, you heard that right.
Greene has already proved to enjoy spewing nonsense at people (she is a QAnon conspiracy theorist), and videos have emerged recently showing her following David Hogg, a survivor of the 2018 Parkland school shooting, through the Capitol building and harassing him about second amendment rights.
G/O Media may get a commission
In a statement released on Friday, Bush shared that Greene had the audacity to try and come for her with that kind of behavior too. According to Bush, she was walking from her office to vote at the Capitol on January 13 when Greene came up behind her while talking loudly on her phone and wearing no mask.
“This took place one day after multiple of my house colleagues announced they had tested positive for COVID-19 after being in a room with Taylor Greene during the white supremacist attack on the Capitol,” Bush said.
Given the very real and present risk of the transmission of the disease that has killed more than 400,000 Americans and counting, Bush said she called out to Greene to put on her mask.
“Taylor Greene and her staff responded by berating me, with one staffer yelling, “Stop inciting violence with Black Lives Matter.”
I’d ask how that makes sense as a reasonable response to being asked to wear a mask, but then that also begs the question of how it makes sense that a conspiracy theorist like Greene is in Congressional office anyway.
Bush added that Greene has also previously targeted her by falsely accusing her on Twitter of “leading a mob” that supposedly called for the rape and murder of the gun-toting McCloskey couple in St. Louis. I don’t remember any mob calling for those things, much less Bush leading them to do so, but we’ve already seen that Greene plays fast and loose with the truth.
Bush said all of that, plus Greene’s “repeated endorsements of executing Democratic politicians before taking office” has led her to relocate to an office away from Greene’s for the safety of herself and her staff.
“I moved my office because I am here to do a job for the people of St. Louis,” Bush said in an interview Friday night with Joy Reid on MSNBC’s The ReidOut. “What I cannot do is continue to look over my shoulder wondering if a white supremacist in Congress by the name of Marjorie Taylor Greene—or anyone else, because there are others—that they are doing something or conspiring against us.”
If you’re tempted to wonder if Bush is being hyperbolic (though I think its very admirable that she has chosen to respond to Greene’s outrageous behavior by moving herself out of Greene’s vicinity), even more videos have emerged to show that Greene is a dangerous individual who does not belong in Congress.
In a clip unearthed by Mother Jones of Greene talking in the lead up to the 2020 elections, the Georgia Rep. is heard proclaiming that “the only way you get your freedoms back is it’s earned with the price of blood.”
And a day after the white supremacist insurrection that left five people dead at the U.S. Capitol just a few weeks ago, Greene sat for an interview with Kate Hopkins, an extremist from the U.K. who’s been banned from Twitter for violating the platform’s hateful conduct policy.
“This isn’t going anywhere, not at all, we’re only beginning to fight. We’re going to defend our constitution, our freedoms,” Greene told Hopkins.
Bush has introduced a House resolution calling for Greene and other members who incited the Jan. 6 insurrection to be expelled from Congress.
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Hundreds of thousands of Texans will likely get their first doses of the Moderna Covid-19 vaccine starting this week at sites like this one in Robstown, Texas. (photo: Eddie Seal/Bloomberg/Getty Images)
Get Vaccinated. Then Keep Your Mask On.
Umair Irfan, Vox
Irfan writes: "After months of exhausting isolation, widespread economic pain, and an extraordinary toll on human life and health, several Covid-19 vaccines are here. Surely, this means we can stop wearing a face mask?"
What we know and don’t know about how Covid-19 vaccines slow the spread of the virus.
Eventually.
As with so much else in this pandemic, there isn’t an easy answer for exactly when we can start to relax. But, clearly, the rapid rollout of Covid-19 vaccines, like the ones developed by Moderna and Pfizer/BioNTech, is our best path out of the crisis.
“We have every reason to believe that these are among some of the very best vaccines that we have ever tested,” said Aaron Richterman, a fellow researching infectious diseases at the University of Pennsylvania.
Though clinical trials give us confidence that the Pfizer/BioNTech and Moderna vaccines block close to 95 percent of cases of the disease — thereby preventing the most severe outcomes of Covid-19 — there are still some uncertainties. Key among them is how well vaccines work to block transmission of SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes Covid-19. Vaccines serve not only to protect individuals but also, after a certain threshold of vaccination, the population as a whole. That threshold is herd immunity — where even people who haven’t been vaccinated or infected before are protected because so many of the people around them are immune.
Transmission also has important practical consequences for the risks that arise as vaccinated individuals interact with everyone else, whether that’s in public parks, schools, households, or health care facilities. Early evidence points toward vaccines reducing transmission of Covid-19, but by exactly how much remains unclear. And that’s stirred up a fierce debate lately around how cautious we should be when talking about the power of the vaccines.
The question, given what scientists know and don’t know, is what message should people get about Covid-19 vaccines and how should they behave when they get them?
It’s a difficult needle to thread, to convey both optimism and caution, and there’s disagreement among scientists and experts over what should be the selling point of vaccines in the current moment. If you’re thinking about how your life might change after you get your shots, here’s what to consider.
What we know about Covid-19 vaccines and transmission
The main problem is that while the Covid-19 vaccines that are now available are amazingly effective at protecting recipients, it’s not clear how much they can prevent them from spreading the virus to other people. And because of that uncertainty, along with the current levels of spread of the disease, public health guidance still calls for the immunized to maintain social distance and wear face masks.
In the meantime, research is underway to figure out by how much vaccinated people can transmit the virus. During phase 3 clinical trials, the main thing researchers are looking for is how well vaccines prevent disease — that is, people getting infected and showing detectable symptoms like fever, coughing, shortness of breath, and a loss of taste or smell.
However, asymptomatic transmission has emerged as a major driver of Covid-19. Getting a handle on how much asymptomatic transmission can occur even with a vaccine requires mass testing to detect the virus since there are no other outward signs of infection. For clinical trials with thousands of participants, testing is a tedious, time-consuming endeavor, and there aren’t many robust findings yet.
That said, there is emerging evidence that Covid-19 vaccines do slow transmission.
Moderna, for example, screened its trial participants for SARS-CoV-2 between the first and second doses of its vaccine, finding that two-thirds fewer people in the vaccine group tested positive for the virus compared to the placebo, according to the company’s briefing to the Food and Drug Administration in December. It suggests that some asymptomatic infections start to be prevented after the first dose.
During the clinical trials for the Covid-19 vaccine developed by AstraZeneca and the University of Oxford, which has not been approved in the US, researchers tested participants more frequently. An early analysis showed that the vaccine may be 59 percent effective at stopping asymptomatic infection.
There are other signs indicating the vaccines can reduce spread. Changes in immune system markers like antibodies in people who are vaccinated comport with what scientists expect in a situation that prevents the virus from setting up shop in people’s airways.
Monica Gandhi, an infectious disease doctor and a professor of medicine at the University of California San Francisco, said the focus on transmission in the context of Covid-19 vaccines can be misleading when comparing them to other vaccines. Part of what’s skewing the picture is that we have more information about Covid-19 transmission dynamics than other respiratory infections. “We never do mass testing for any respiratory virus unless you don’t feel well,” Gandhi said.
There are lessons we can draw from other vaccines, too. Researchers say it’s highly unlikely that a vaccine with a high efficacy against disease wouldn’t also make a significant dent in transmission. In fact, there are vaccines that are given mainly to prevent transmission more so than the disease, like the rubella vaccine, according to Paul Sax, clinical director of the Division of Infectious Diseases at Brigham and Women’s Hospital and a professor at Harvard Medical School.
With Covid-19 vaccines, the fact that they prevent the most severe outcomes — even if they don’t prevent every instance of disease — can reduce transmission by itself. People with milder symptoms are less likely to cough and spread the virus through the air to others. “Even if it shifts it from symptomatic Covid to asymptomatic Covid, that still is a win for transmission because asymptomatic people are less likely to transmit it because they don’t have as much virus for as long,” Sax said.
On the other hand, there are other vaccines that can prevent disease but have a much weaker effect on transmission, like the pertussis, or whooping cough, vaccine.
For the most part, the evidence is pointing toward Covid-19 vaccines reducing transmission of the virus. The critical question is by just how much, since that will shape the point where herd immunity occurs. “The exact amount that it reduces asymptomatic transmission is going to have consequences,” Richterman said. The answer will likely emerge in the coming months as researchers gather more data from clinical trials as well as among vaccine recipients in the general population.
What message do we send in the moment?
So scientists generally agree: The vaccines are essential for ending the pandemic, though they will take weeks or months to blunt the spread of Covid-19 across the population. Until that time, it’s necessary to keep up mask-wearing and social distancing in public.
But it’s not as though one day the country will cross a line going from unsafe to safe; rather, there will be a decline in risk over time. “I think the better way to frame it is the vaccine is going to make every single activity the person does safer,” Richterman said. And while scientists can measure risk and come up with tactics to reduce it, they can’t determine how much risk is tolerable. That’s a value judgment people have to make as individuals.
Vaccines are certainly a major risk-reducer, arguably the largest when it comes to Covid-19. The risk of infection and transmission doesn’t drop to zero with a pair of shots, but when combined with other measures like wearing face masks, they become a firewall against transmission. Right now, though, in the context of uncontrolled spread of Covid-19, even a reduced risk of transmission could still lead to problematic levels of new infection.
And there’s still a long way to go. Even though upward of one-third of the US population may have already been exposed to the virus, we don’t fully know who has had it because there are so many asymptomatic cases and because of gaps in testing. It’s also not clear how long immunity lasts after infection and how well it will hold up against new SARS-CoV-2 variants, although early evidence shows immunity does last at least a few months and that prior infections offer some degree of shielding against newer versions of the virus. So the transmission aspect of the pandemic is going to remain a major issue for some time.
“My biggest concern right now in the short term is getting people to make sure they’re not easing up on the precautions they need to take, given the current situation and the lack of vaccine availability,” said Angela Rasmussen, a virologist at Georgetown University.
One of the most delicate times in the pandemic will be the period between its worst throes and widespread immunity. That’s when there will be large groups of people who are vaccinated as well as those who are not vaccinated interacting in the same public spaces but with very different risk exposures.
Though some groups have broached the idea of using vaccine passports to identify the immune, there is no easy way to tell whether someone is protected just by looking at them, so across-the-board pandemic restrictions will likely have to remain in place. That may prove frustrating for people who survived the pandemic and went through the trouble of getting immunized but still can’t relax.
The message to those vaccinated people in this twilight period of the pandemic must be that they are duty-bound to keep up precautions like wearing masks in order to protect others as an act of social solidarity.
But what’s the best way to frame this? Are we in the home stretch of the pandemic, or are we still mired in the worst phase? Should health officials emphasize how vaccines will return everyone to normal or highlight the unknowns and counsel caution? Should the vaccinated be scolded if they start to hang out with friends and travel?
Rasmussen noted that with the uncertainties around the Covid-19 vaccines, as impressive as they are, there is a fear of overpromising and underdelivering. The final results could reveal that vaccines may not block transmission as much as hoped, so if they’re overhyped, trust in public health officials could erode and lead to more vaccine hesitancy.
On the other hand, as groups of people get vaccinated, they might be able to relax around each other as their collective risk declines. Members of a household, neighbors, or people living in long-term care facilities may be able to share the company of others who are also immune.
But even vaccines, masks, and social distancing together won’t stop spread due to reckless behavior, just as airbags, seatbelts, and crumple zones don’t mean that it’s safe to drive inebriated over the speed limit. Vaccines are not a license to resume crowded indoor gatherings since the overall vaccination rate is still low and the spread of the virus is still high.
“You can potentially get together with your parents that you haven’t seen in a long time if all of you have been vaccinated,” Rasmussen said. “What you should not do is get together with a bunch of your vaccinated friends and go hit the bars.”
Gandhi agreed that precautions will be necessary in many circumstances for people who receive vaccines.
“My risk tolerance is I will wear a mask around those who are unvaccinated,” Gandhi said. “I think many doctors will take off their mask around vaccinated people. And only vaccinated people.”
However, she argued that the messaging emphasis should be on how vaccines will speed up the return to a world outside the pandemic. Belaboring the blank spaces in our understanding of them when there is so much good news could also create hesitancy and undermine progress. Without a sense of progress and an achievable goal, it may get harder to keep up precautions until there is widespread immunity.
“It’s very helpful to tell the public that someday the masks will come off,” Gandhi said. “You can say it will be longer [to get to the end of the pandemic], and it will be, but please keep giving people hope.”
How can we tell we’ve crossed the finish line?
The main benchmark for ending the pandemic and the goalposts of a vaccination campaign should be to reduce fatality rates. “We should go all-in for mortality. The first thing we should see is a substantial, substantial reduction in mortality in the population,” said Saad Omer, director of the Yale Institute for Global Health. “Even if we don’t find out that there is reduction in transmission, if enough people are protected and mortality goes down drastically ... even if it’s just individual effects, that’s a good way of returning to normal.”
Such a scenario would downgrade Covid-19 from a lethal public health threat to a moderate concern, and perhaps even a nuisance. Until there is a dramatic decline in fatality rates, however, face masks and social distancing will still be a part of everyone’s life, including those who are vaccinated.
After that, measures of transmission, such as the fraction of Covid-19 tests that yield positive results, could be used as an indicator of how much spread is still occurring.
The US may have to contend with sporadic outbreaks and even vaccine boosters, as immunity declines and new variants of the virus emerge. But widespread immunization creates a scenario where many of the most onerous burdens of the pandemic can be lifted.
Given the pace of progress in vaccinations, that could happen later this year.
“If there are no crazy variants, we can be in a situation where in fall things are more normal,” Omer said. “Maybe not fully normal, but better.”
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A policeman detains a man while protesters try to help him, during a protest against the jailing of opposition leader Alexei Navalny in St. Petersburg, Russia, Sunday, Jan. 31, 2021. (photo: Valentin Egorshin/AP)
ALSO SEE: Russia Cracks Down on Navalny Protests,
Locking Down City Centers and Arresting Thousands
Russia Arrests Nearly 5,000 at Wide Protests Backing Navalny
Vladimir Isachenkov, Associated Press
Excerpt: "Chanting slogans against President Vladimir Putin, tens of thousands took to the streets Sunday across Russia to demand the release of jailed opposition leader Alexei Navalny, keeping up nationwide protests that have rattled the Kremlin. Nearly 5,000 people were detained by police, according to a monitoring group, and some were beaten."
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Hundreds of kayaktivists take to the water during protest against drilling in the Arctic and the Port of Seattle being used as a port for the Shell Oil drilling rig Polar Pioneer. (photo: Joshua Trujillo/Grist)
A Thin Green Line: How Activists in Washington, Oregon, and British Columbia Thwarted Fossil Fuel Exports
Robert McClure, Grist and InvestigateWest
McClure writes: "Opponents' victory in that case was emblematic of how environmentalists, Native American tribes, ranchers, politicians, doctors, fishermen, and even windsurfers worked for a decade to fend off more than 20 proposals to ship fossil fuels across the Pacific Ocean, from near Prince Rupert, British Columbia, clear south to San Luis Obispo, California."
During a decade when Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia flouted carbon emissions goals, activists fighting fossil fuel exports made global impact.
t the corner of Third and Union, amid a sea of downtown high-rises and just across from Macy’s, members of the Northern Cheyenne tribe in native regalia walked alongside Montana ranchers in cowboy hats. The ranchers’ forerunners occupied the same stretch of the Little Bighorn River where Lakota, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho warriors crushed the infamous U.S. Army General George Custer. On this December morning in 2012, however, they made common cause.
First the Cheyenne and ranchers set out together to find breakfast. Then they walked to Seattle’s Convention Center to square off against a modern-day enemy with global reach: coal firms proposing to move mile-long-plus trains through the Pacific Northwest to be loaded on ships bound for Asia.
Their partnership went the distance. Three years after that hearing, the proposed Washington coal terminal was dead. Those trains bearing Montana and Wyoming coal never rolled.
Government action to slash greenhouse gas emissions fell short in Washington, Oregon, and British Columbia during the decade after they mandated their first targets. But as policymakers in Cascadia failed, its activists triumphed.
Against the odds, and even their own expectations, activists blocked nearly every effort to use the region’s ports to expand the global fossil fuel trade between 2004 and 2017, according to research by InvestigateWest. Industry wanted to turn the Pacific Northwest into a fossil fuel export hub. Instead, environmentalists assembled coalitions that shut down or brought to a near-standstill proposals that, taken together, would have punched the carbon equivalent of five Keystone XL pipelines through Cascadia and its ports, according to research by the Seattle-based think tank Sightline Institute. Just last week, the owners of a proposed coal-export terminal in Longview, Washington, known as the Millennium Bulk Terminal, pulled the plug on the project.
A few significant energy-export proposals have been revived under the Trump and Trudeau administrations. Still, that wave of earlier victories represents the region’s greatest contribution to climate action, according to KC Golden, a longtime policy leader who spent more than a decade at Climate Solutions, a regional group headquartered in Seattle at the center of the opposition.
“You can’t measure that on our emissions curve, but it’s probably the single biggest thing that we did,” said Golden, who now serves on the board of the international climate-action group 350.org.
How did they do it?
Green groups saw success in fighting fuel-export proposals along the Pacific coast because they successfully enlisted non-traditional allies. And also because they put a lot of calories into figuring out how coal and oil were set to be physically exported. And then enlisting those communities at risk.
They targeted the underground pipelines snaking beneath communities. And the mile-long-plus trains rumbling through downtowns, cutting off emergency service vehicles and all other traffic numerous times daily. And the fuel processing plants that spew pollution into the air of often marginalized communities — all en route to impacting a warming planet.
Regional factors also played a role. Native American tribes and First Nations bands invoked their sovereign powers to muscle political power. And Cascadia’s liberal leanings and economic makeup eased the lift politically. Fossil fuel production makes up a small part of the region’s job base, and many politicians score with voters by opposing the likes of Big Oil. (Then-Seattle City Council member Mike O’Brien, once dubbed the city’s Most Divisive Man, had nothing to lose when he paddled into Seattle’s Elliott Bay to block a Shell drilling platform bound for the Arctic. O’Brien numbered among dozens of “kayaktivists” arrested that June, three months before the oil major shelved its Arctic drilling plans.)
The most important factor, though, was the sheer number of people that activists mobilized by reaching beyond their traditional alliances. In massive numbers, community members attended public hearings. Marched in protests. Spent nights and weekends at kitchen tables drafting pleas to government agencies.
“Clearly part of what is different about this campaign is the fairly extraordinary level of grassroots involvement,” said Becky Kelley, former president of the Washington Environmental Council.
‘We were going to get creamed’
This story of uncharacteristic environmental victories has its roots in the mid-2000s, when growing use of so-called “natural” gas produced several proposals to import liquefied natural gas to ports in Oregon. That would require pipelines to move the fossil gas east, taking peoples’ land. Lots of land, as it turned out, and much of it in solidly conservative expanses of the state.
Fracking turned that picture upside down. Cheaper domestic gas spurred three new waves of export proposals: Facilities to take coal transported by rail; oil transported by rail and pipeline; and then – once again – gas from pipelines. This time the latter would carry gas westward for export to Asia.
If all the proposals for coal exports went through, it would mean 50 to 60 trains per day traveling through the region, according to calculations by the Sightline Institute. An organization central to the coalition fighting those plans was Climate Solutions, which partnered with Sightline to launch a campaign called Power Past Coal.
“We built a coordinated regional strategy that we deployed with relentless tenacity,” said Beth Doglio, the campaign’s co-director, who was elected to a Washington House of Representatives seat in 2016. “It was the combination of people wanting to turn the tide against climate change coupled with communities’ very visceral reactions to 60 trains a day coming through.”
Allies in the business world warned “that we were going to get creamed,” said a former Climate Solutions colleague of Doglio’s, Ross Macfarlane.
“And I wasn’t sure they were wrong,” he said. “In fact, I was pretty sure they were right.”
The activists at Climate Solutions got an early jolt of confidence from opposition research, teaming up with the Sightline Institute and other coalition partners to dig into coal industry finances. Within a few months they knew that the economics of the proposals were shaky. For example, Sightline researcher Clark Williams-Derry obtained government documents from Australia showing that Ambre Energy, the force behind two coal-export proposals along the Columbia River, was deep in debt.
The coalition started cultivating relationships with stock analysts and others in the financial world, including reporters, Macfarlane recalled. The greens also began educating government leaders in the Northwest. Soon coal companies’ prospects did not look so rosy after all.
But more challenges lay ahead. The anti-coal campaign was still building momentum in 2013 when Eric de Place, then Sightline’s policy director, got a call from an environmental activist named Brett VandenHeuvel of Oregon-based Columbia Riverkeeper. He was worried about a plan to build an oil-export terminal at Vancouver, Washington, just across the Columbia River from Portland.
When VandenHeuvel didn’t get the response he wanted from de Place, he blurted, “Look, they’re talking about moving 360,000 barrels a day.”
To which de Place recalls laughing, and responding: “’Maybe you are misreading a number because nobody has ever moved that much oil by rail.’ I said, ‘Look, that’s the size of a pipeline. That’s not rail movement.’”
De Place agreed to look into the matter, and he quickly found that VandenHeuvel was right. The proposed $210 million Tesoro Savage rail-to-marine terminal really did contemplate unprecedented scale.
Oil trains more than a mile long would block emergency vehicles and other traffic on a daily basis in towns between Washington and Wyoming. And in a derailment or collision the oil could cause fearsome devastation.
A few years later as a wave of proposals to export natural gas emerged, followed by several proposals to produce methanol from natural gas.
By the middle of last decade, a fossil fuel tsunami seemed to be pointed at Cascadia and its ports. But by then, environmentalists had also built a coalition far stronger than their partnerships with each other — a regional infrastructure of activism whose importance to the greens’ success is hard to overstate.
“That’s a real lesson learned: To be successful on major campaigns you have got to work outside traditional alliances,” Macfarlane said.
Environmentalists looked at who might be affected by each proposed project and reached out, often discovering natural allies who had already mobilized. Scouting far up the rail lines, they also found unlikely allies, from politicians in decidedly conservative towns along the rail routes to a concerned researcher for the Montana Wheat & Barley Committee. Lots of folks worried about traffic-jamming trains carrying volatile oil and gas.
They were far stronger together. Dedicated people at the grassroots level poured in their time and worked their community connections. Professionals at environmental nonprofits bolstered their case, providing expertise to, for example, challenge a company’s calculation about how much of a neighborhood would be decimated if a fossil gas train exploded.
“It’s all about grassroots resistance to the fossil fuel infrastructure,” said Climate Solutions’ Doglio. “Legislators really can’t ignore the massive outcry in our communities around trying to stop these fossil fuel projects.”
Native peoples critical to success
First Nations and Native Americans were at the forefront and, in a few cases, provided pivotal legal firepower that won the day.
Take, for example, the proposal to build the Gateway Pacific Terminal, about 10 miles from the Canada-U.S. border, to ship coal to China – the project the Montana ranchers and tribal members traveled to Seattle to protest in 2012.
So many people wanted to be at that hearing that the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers had rescheduled the event, and moved it from a community college to the convention center. More than 2,300 showed up on that December 14 along with the Northern Cheyenne and their allies; more than 6,000 attended other hearings for the project around the state.
In Seattle, opponents sang to the tune of “Deck the Halls”:
“We have lots of greener choices
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Stop the coal and
Raise our voices…”
The fatal blow for the Gateway Pacific coal terminal landed a few years later, when the Lummi Nation — whose reservation sits just south of the U.S.-Canada border — won a legal fight to convince the Corps to reject the proposed 3,000-foot wharf and rail trestle. The Lummi cited the 1855 treaty under which they gave most of their traditional territory to the United States and were guaranteed the right to forever fish at their “usual and accustomed grounds and stations.”
Like so many assurances to Native Americans, that promise was later largely abandoned. Then a series of court rulings, starting in the 1970s and still controversial, held that tribes are entitled to half the seafood catch in Washington.
Taking aim at the coal-export terminal, the Lummi submitted fish catch reports dating back to the ‘70s showing that Lummi fishermen had long landed crab, salmon, halibut, herring, and cod in the waters around the proposed coal terminal. As a sovereign nation, the Lummi could expect the federal government to give their position serious consideration.
And they won. In 2016 the Army Corps declined the permit application.
In her decision, Michelle Walker, chief of the Army Corps’s regional regulatory branch, recognized not only the Lummi’s sovereign rights but also their distinct culture. “It is also important to note the Cherry Point area is known to the Lummi as Xwe’chi’eXen, which is part of a larger traditional cultural property,” she wrote. Fishing was not just a source of sustenance and wealth, wrote Walker, but also “important to the Lummi Schelangen (Way of Life).”
‘I am not an acceptable risk’
When government officials took seats behind long tables at one end of an Oregon high school gymnasium one rainy night, they faced about 100 locals sitting in folding chairs. Most wore red T-shirts that read:
“I am not an LNG ‘acceptable risk.’”
The locals’ show of force at Astoria’s Knappa High in 2005 was the first major public protest against the first of four terminals to import liquefied natural gas, proposed for sites along the Columbia River near the Pacific Ocean. Emotions ran high, elevated by the risk of catastrophic explosions associated with LNG tankers.
That 2005 hearing at Knappa High launched what became a decade-plus anti-LNG campaign by citizen activists.
It was love of the Columbia River that brought school librarian Cheryl Johnson into the fight. Johnson, who lives near the river in a small community called Brownsmead, spearheaded a key opposition group calling itself Columbia Pacific Common Sense.
Johnson’s organization came to coordinate myriad citizen opposition groups that popped up spontaneously along the river where the explosive fuel was to be transported, as well as across interior counties where a pipeline would plow through orchards, vineyards, and pasture and leave behind the possibility of catastrophic explosions.
Like Johnson, most citizen activists had day jobs. They soon realized that they were girding for a fight over highly technical matters of science and law. They realized, she said, that they needed an environmental group with professional staff. With expertise.
Johnson and her collaborators found it in the Columbia Riverkeeper, a Pacific Northwest affiliate of the Waterkeeper Alliance founded by Robert F. Kennedy Jr.
“They said from the beginning: We have your back. We will help you,” Johnson said. “They were pivotal.”
The formula, according to Johnson: “We brought the local voice, and they brought the lawyers.” Scientists, too.
The citizens’ tactics: Workshops. Rallies. Handing out one-pagers at their monthly meetings and public hearings. Lots of time. Lots of preparation. Lots of nights reading and learning.
They used the internet extensively, along with events. A notice for a 2005 event offered: “Artist & activist Janet Essley will join us for a ‘Stencil Party.’ BYOT (Bring your own t-shirt, hat, posterboard etc.) and Essley will walk you through stenciling ‘No LNG’ artwork on items of your choice.”
They targeted the county commission, the city commission, the Coast Guard, the state Department of Environmental Quality, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission – any agency that had decision-making authority over government permits. Every month the far-flung local groups sent representatives on the two-hour drive to meet with Riverkeeper in Portland and plan strategy.
And when another show of force was required at a public meeting or event, word went out: This is a red-shirt meeting.
Crucially, when citizen activists failed to gain support from established green groups, they reached out beyond that movement. They involved fishermen who feared damage to salmon habitat where the LNG plants would be built. They brought in tribes who depend on and venerate salmon. And they linked up with owners of vineyards and orchards whose long-nurtured lands would be riven by proposed pipelines.
Two of the proposals for LNG terminals quickly fell away. But two persisted for years as fracking projects conceived to import LNG were reborn as terminals to liquify cheap, abundant domestic gas for export to Asia.
The first was the Bradwood Landing project upstream from Astoria, proposed by NorthernStar Natural Gas. The Houston-based company that originally sought permits to import LNG, promising jobs and energy, converted it to export after fracking took off.
A key factor in defeating the proposal was a citizen referendum, crafted by the professionals at Columbia Riverkeeper and pushed heavily by local groups, that outlawed the company’s plan to build pipelines through publicly owned parks as project proponents planned. More than two-thirds of votes went for the opponents in a special election that spurred more than half of Clatsop County’s registered voters to weigh in.
About five years after that first public meeting at Knappa High, Johnson left her seat in a restaurant overlooking the Columbia one night to rescue a forgotten mobile phone from her car. Standing there in the parking lot, she saw 15 messages. Something was up. As she listened, she realized her side had prevailed.
Minutes later she was on the phone with a reporter asking for comment, so choked up she couldn’t talk through her sobs of joy.
Six years later the other longstanding LNG proposal, slated for Warrenton, a former timber company town, finally died, too. There, the activists won by electing sympathetic voices to the county commission.
“What we learned is there is no silver bullet, there is no one thing,” Johnson said. “Big picture, it’s just throwing so many obstacles in their way that they finally decide it’s not worth it, and they pull out.”
Global impact
Cascadia’s activism has had global impact, contributing to a downgrading of fossil fuel industries’ moral standing and access to capital worldwide. In essence, activists here have been helping to “decarbonize” public opinion. But for all of their victories, it might be a stretch to say the fossil fuel industry is on the run. In fact, the industry continues to hold sway in important ways.
Trains carrying highly flammable Bakken crude oil still regularly pass through the Columbia River Gorge at the Washington-Oregon border. One derailed in June 2016 at a small Oregon town, sending up a fireball and closing a 23-mile stretch of Interstate 84 for half a day and evacuating a school and neighborhood. Fortunately, no one died. Another oil-bearing train derailed last month north of Bellingham, Washington.
From the Columbia Gorge, these oil-bearing trains make a right, bisecting towns from Oregon to near the Canadian border. Most move through a century-old tunnel that runs beneath downtown Seattle. There, an explosion could easily result in mass evacuations and quite possibly more serious harm.
How did those get past the environmental groups? Simple: They didn’t see them coming. They had no clue when four out of five of Washington’s refineries applied for local building permits a decade ago to reconfigure rail lines that it would enable an oil-by-rail surge.
Only because of that phone call from Columbia Riverkeeper’s VandenHeuvel to Sightline’s de Place did any of that come to light. By then it was too late to stop those four refineries. They are now bringing in more than 100,000 barrels a day, on average, according to the Sightline Institute’s research.
They may get access to even more thanks to the expansion of the TransMountain pipeline — one of several large fossil fuel export projects underway today in British Columbia.
Activists scared TransMountain’s longtime owner, Kinder Morgan, off the expansion project only to see it rescued by being purchased by Canada’s federal government. It would nearly triple the capacity of a pipeline that delivers diluted bitumen (the heaviest form of crude oil) from Canada’s tar sands in Alberta to just outside Vancouver, B.C. It was justified to ship petroleum to China and other Asian countries by tanker, but also sends diluted bitumen to Washington refineries via barge and pipeline.
While TMX moved forward against objections from British Columbia, the government actively courted two other mega projects under construction: the LNG Canada gas export terminal in Kitimat and the associated Coastal GasLink gas pipeline bringing fracked gas to Kitimat from Northeast British Columbia.
A similar LNG development called Jordan Cove remains a possibility in southern Oregon. Just ask Clarence Adams, who lives near Eugene. Adams fought for years before he saw the U.S. Federal Energy Regulatory Commission uncharacteristically reject the proposal to export liquefied natural gas through nearby Coos Bay in 2016.
It seemed like victory. But it was short-lived. Opponents ran a ballot measure the next year to permanently kill the proposal, dubbed Jordan Cove and backed by Calgary-based Veresen, Inc. Adams’ side got killed. The vote was 76 percent to 24 percent. Veresen’s forces spent about $32 for each vote in its share of the 17,249 ballots cast, flooding the airwaves and buying newspaper ads. Proponents managed to spend just about one-tenth of that, or $3.20 for each of the approximately 4,100 votes they garnered.
Then President Donald Trump began winning appointments to the five-member Federal Energy Regulatory Commission and its balance tilted to favor the Jordan Cove proposal.
Adams, who retired from a job helping the Umpqua National Forest process timber harvests, is pretty sure this version of the plan will fail as previous ones have. For one thing Pembina Pipeline Corp., a Canadian firm that subsequently took over the project, has been unable to secure several permits from the state. Low prices for natural gas globally could also hinder the proposal.
Or not. “My worst fear is some American company will come up and buy it out and we’ll have a fourth iteration and try to push it through for American gas,” Adams said. “A lot hinges on the global gas market.”
Back in Seattle, Sightline’s de Place said last week that activists trying to maintain the thin green line continue to monitor Jordan Cove and several other fossil-fuel export proposals, the largest being British Columbia’s TransMountain Pipeline expansion.
But looking back through the years, he said Cascadian activists’ efforts “have been a smash hit.”
“I thought when we started out… that we would not win any of the fights, and as it turned out we came close to running the tables,” de Place said. “We established that fossil fuels do not have a safe harbor in the Northwest.”
Still, his title at the Sightline think tank/activist group reflects the reality that this is an ongoing fight. He’s now called the Thin Green Line Director.
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