We’ve plummeted from dumb to dumber — to proud and unapologetically ignorant | Opinion

We’ve plummeted from dumb to dumber — to proud and unapologetically ignorant | Opinion

We live in ignorant times.

By now, surely this is obvious beyond argument to anyone who’s been paying attention. From the Capitol insurrectionist who thought he was storming the White House to Sen. Tim Scott’s claim that “woke supremacy is as bad as white supremacy” to whatever thing Tucker Carlson last said, ignorance is ascendant.

Yet, even by that dubious standard, what happened recently in Tennessee bears note. According to a story by Brett Kelman of the Tennessean newspaper in Nashville, the state, under pressure from Republican lawmakers, fired its top immunization official, Dr. Michelle Fiscus, and shut down all vaccine outreach to young people. Fiscus’ sin? Doing her job, working to increase access to the COVID-19 shot among kids.

Specifically, she sent a letter to healthcare providers reminding them that under the state’s “Mature Minor Doctrine,” they are legally allowed to vaccinate children 14 years or older without parental consent. According to Fiscus, the letter, written in response to requests for guidance made by those administering the shots, utilized language drafted by an attorney for the department of health and was vetted by the governor’s office.

All that notwithstanding, it infuriated some state lawmakers. They used words like “extreme disappointment” and “reprehensible” and talked of closing the health department. Some anonymous person even sent Fiscus a dog muzzle. Then she was fired, and the state shut down all vaccine publicity efforts targeting young people.

This means no postcards sent out to remind kids to get their shots, no nudges on social media, no flyers or advertisements, no events at schools, no outreach whatsoever. And not just for COVID, mind you, but for everything — measles, mumps, tetanus, diphtheria, hepatitis, polio.

In a pandemic.

In a state with a less-than-stellar COVID vaccination rate.

At a time when experts are tracking the rise of a deadlier new COVID variant.

It is hard to imagine behavior dumber, more dangerous, more short-sighted and more downright bass-ackward than that exhibited by Tennessee and its lawmakers.

Which is, unfortunately, right on brand for this country in this era. It was in the 2000s that Stephen Colbert coined the term “truthiness” to describe the right wing’s secession from objective fact, and some of us began to speak of them as living in an “alternate reality.” How, we wondered in newspaper columns and speeches, can we have meaningful discourse if we cannot agree on basic facts?

Years later, that concern feels too abstract. The threat turns out to be more visceral and urgent than any of us could have imagined. Yes, some people live in alternate realities. What’s worse, though, is when they have power to impose those realities on the rest of us. That’s what we’re seeing in Tennessee and elsewhere, and the results will be as tragic as they are predictable and preventable.

Ignorance is bliss, they say. But it isn’t.

Ignorance is fever.

Ignorance is chills.

Ignorance is trouble breathing.

Ignorance is an empty seat at the table, a bedroom come suddenly available.

Because ignorance is death.

And while the aphorism isn’t true, can you imagine if it were, if ignorance really were bliss? Disney theme parks would have to find a new slogan.

Right now, Tennessee would be the happiest place on Earth.

Heffernan: Donald Trump just won’t go away

Heffernan: Donald Trump just won’t go away

President Trump arrives at the White House on Thursday after returning from Bedminster, N.J.
In his new book “Landslide,” journalist Michael Wolff argues that former President Trump is a madman in want of a straitjacket. (Associated Press)

 

Maybe the word “Trump,” a century from now, will no longer designate a man — or even a presidential administration.

Perhaps it will be the name of an epoch. A decisive period in human history when the United States suffered a near-death experience and did or didn’t regain its cognitive faculties.

As one of history’s speediest first-drafters, the journalist Michael Wolff has been narrating the Trump epoch from the start. Now he has a new book that clinches his case: Donald Trump hit the nation like a wrecking ball, and it will be a long, long time before we recover.

“Landslide” is the third in a remarkable trilogy of Wolff White House potboilers. The first, “Fire and Fury,” was published in 2018. “Siege” came out in 2019. This new one, subtitled “The Final Days of the Trump Presidency,” is out this month.

I’m calling it a trilogy, optimistically, because who knows where this thing ends? Maybe we will someday see an omnibus from Wolff, with new titles like “Phoenix: Trump from the Ashes,” “King: Trump Enthroned” and “Afterlife: Trump Reigns from the Grave.”

But even if the future is not that bleak, epochs don’t have “hard outs,” as the executives say, and if the former president has shown us anything, it’s that he can’t ever, ever, ever manage the disappearing act implied by a hard out.

Or even a soft one.

“Landslide,” in fact, is a chronicle of Trump’s hysterical inability to leave. It takes its title from Trump’s groundless insistence that he triumphed in an election that he in fact lost.

But it also implies an avalanche of another sort: one that started when Trump’s psychological convulsions triggered a rolling collapse of the linchpins of the U.S. government.

Wolff is a hustler with a high tolerance for general venality, vulgar locker-room talk, and the company of armpit sources like dark-arts master Steve Bannon and lawyer Rudy Giuliani, now unlicensed in New York and Washington. But his patience with carnies allows him astonishing access. He’s great at picking up insider images, too, as when Bannon describes Giuliani, in his aphasic periods, as in the “mumble tank.”

Wolff also has a hard-won thesis. Donald Trump, he argues, is not crazy like a fox. He’s just crazy, a madman in want of a straitjacket. He’s not playing chess or even checkers; he’s covering pages with Sharpie Xs and calling it tic-tac-toe.

Worse yet, Trump insists the law should turn his scrawls into winning legal briefs and triumph over all. A motif of the book is how much Trump despises all his lawyers. It’s only their incompetence, in his view, that is keeping him from his rightful role as America’s forever president.

If you want to relive it, the book covers the throes of the 2020 presidential election and the Trump campaign falling into splinters.

Trump refused to come up with a platform, admit the scope of the pandemic or wear a mask. He got COVID-19.

An overhyped rally in Tulsa, Okla., was met with banks of empty seats. The Republican Party put on a Spinal Tap-caliber convention starring Donald Trump Jr.’s girlfriend screaming.

Brad Parscale, the president’s campaign manager, had what Wolff calls a “psychotic break.” He was carted away by police.

Trump seethed and glowered in debates. He encouraged the neofascist Proud Boys.

But somehow, according to Wolff’s sources, Trump remained convinced Joe Biden couldn’t beat him. Trump declared defeat unimaginable, which allowed his brain to seize on an imaginary victory.

The scrum of Trump’s bootlickers features prominently in “Landslide” — concentric circles that include the plausibly OK (then chief of staff Mark Meadows, campaign spokesman Jason Miller) to the floridly not OK (MyPillow magnate Mike Lindell, Kraken lawyer Sidney Powell). The scrum’s election-night competition to see who could “yes Trump” the loudest set the stage for the Big Lie and the attempted coup/insurrection of Jan. 6.

But this down-is-up position was ultimately unsustainable for at least some Trump’s stalwarts. In Wolff’s telling, Rupert Murdoch deliberately gave Trump the middle finger by having Fox News call Arizona early for Biden.

Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner vanished; Mitch McConnell, then the Senate majority leader, and Atty. Gen William Barr acknowledged Biden’s clean victory.

Wolff represents those who stuck it out with Trump as groveling desperados, their wits dulled by the Trump treatment — oily flattery and savage cruelty. At the vanguard: Powell, Giuliani and another lawyer of questionable ethics, Jenna Ellis. Also, these “Star Wars” barflies: Republican Reps. Jim Jordan, Louie Gohmert, Matt Gaetz and Paul Gosar.

The whole story plays out like a Greek tragedy because we know where it’s going — the desecration of the Capitol and U.S. democracy. Here and there, in passing moments of half-clarity, it seems Trump might be deterred from inciting violence, but it doesn’t happen.

The book wraps with a spontaneous interview Trump gives Wolff. In a lightning round, Trump slags McConnell, Mike Pence, Karl Rove, Chris Christie, Kevin McCarthy and Brett M. Kavanaugh.

But Wolff can’t leave it there. And neither can Trump. The former president hints at a comeback, and Wolff ends on a nauseating cliffhanger. Clearly, as long as this low, dishonest epoch persists, Wolff will be there to chronicle it.

24-year-old who needed double lung transplant wishes he’d been vaccinated for COVID-19

24-year-old who needed double lung transplant wishes he’d been vaccinated for COVID-19

David Knowles, Senior Editor                        July 14, 2021

 

A 24-year-old Georgia man who contracted COVID-19 and required a double lung transplant, and who remains hospitalized, has expressed his regret he did not get vaccinated for the virus, which has so far killed more than 607,000 Americans.

Blake Bargatze had told his parents he was putting off receiving a COVID-19 vaccine because he felt uncertain about its possible side effects, WSB-TV in Atlanta reported.

“He wanted to wait a few years to see, you know, if there’s any side effects or anything from it,” said Paul Nuclo, his stepfather. “As soon as he got in the hospital, though, he said he wished he had gotten the vaccine.”

Bargatze was the only member of his family who passed on getting vaccinated, Cheryl Nuclo, his mother, told Fox 5 Atlanta. Once hospitalized, however, he asked to be inoculated.

“The night before he was intubated, he wanted it,” Nuclo said. “So it was a little bit too late then.”

Bargatze, who had no preexisting medical conditions and has endured prolonged intensive care stays at hospitals in three different states over the last three months, believes he contracted COVID-19 during an April visit to Florida.

“He had called me that Friday when he got the results,” Bargatze’s mother told WSB-TV, “and he’s like, ‘Mom, you’re going to be mad. I got COVID.’”

GoFundMe page set up by Bargatze’s friends is raising money to help cover his medical bills.

Blake Bargatze (GoFundMe)
Blake Bargatze. (GoFundMe)

 

“He was initially admitted to ICU at St. Mary’s in West Palm Beach, FL on April 10th, and then he was air transported to Piedmont Atlanta Hospital on April 24th to be placed on ECMO,” the GoFundMe page states, referring to an extracorporeal membrane oxygenation machine. “Many complications occurred during his hospital stay that caused extensive damage to his lungs, requiring the need for a double lung transplant to survive. Blake was transferred to the University of Maryland Medical Center on June 12th. He remains on the ventilator and ECMO as he waits for the lung transplant.”

Thanks to the spread of the Delta variant of COVID-19, the number of new cases has increased nationwide by a staggering 109 percent over the last two weeks. Deaths from the disease, which had fallen precipitously as more Americans were vaccinated for it, have also begun ticking back up as vaccination rates have stalled.

Bargatze’s mother said her son wants vaccine skeptics to learn from what happened to him and to get vaccinated for COVID-19.

“Maybe if some people were kind of on the fence and swaying, he wants them to see what might be the extreme of what can happen,” she told WSB. “Not using a fear tactic — but it can happen.”

Microplastics are getting into our bodies. We need to understand what that means

Opinion: Microplastics are getting into our bodies. We need to understand what that means

recycling Plastic in junkyard wait for recycling.The plastic waste can reused many times ,decreased air pollution and greenhouse gases
Large pieces of plastic waste ultimately break down into tiny particles called microplastics. (Worradirek / Getty Images / iStockphoto)

 

Nobody wants to snack on plastic bags or soda rings, but according to a 2019 study from the University of Newcastle, we could be consuming roughly a credit card’s worth of plastic every week.

Microplastics, which are less than a quarter-inch in size and come in various shapes and textures, have contaminated the natural world and infiltrated our bodies. These particles are just about everywhere on Earth, including in drinking water and the air we breathe, but until recently we didn’t know how ubiquitous they really were.

Microplastics were first discovered in our oceans, and the vast majority of studies published since then focus on marine environments only. The threat to our oceans is indeed huge, but it’s not the full picture anymore.

The first clue to microplastic exposure in humans came around 2013, when scientists discovered plastic particles in seafood prepared for consumption. But by 2019, when the University of Newcastle study was published, the scientific community understood that the problem was considerably broader.

“We started to realize that we have exposure that’s much greater than just a fish at the grocery store,” said Dr. Chelsea Rochman, a University of Toronto professor who helped produce a report on microplastics in April for the California Ocean Science Trust. “The trend of the research at first was just to show that we were exposed, and then it became clear that we needed to understand how this impacts human health.”

Microplastics shed off of clothes and tires and have been found in beer, honey, table salt and other food items. We inhale plastic suspended in the air and drink plastic floating in our beverages. It’s no stretch to conclude that our exposure is significant. What we don’t know is what this means for us.

Researchers started to look seriously into the human health impacts of microplastic ingestion and inhalation just a few years ago. We’ve started to ask the right questions, but there’s a long way to go. If we’re going to get the answers in time, we need to prioritize this area and funnel resources into science that analyzes how microplastics interact with our bodies.

The amount of evidence collected on this subject is growing rapidly, according to Scott Coffin, a toxicologist also involved with the state report. Studies done on mice and rats have found that plastic contamination can reduce fertility, alter the gut microbiome and cause oxidative stress, which can severely damage cells.

These results aren’t directly translatable to people, however, and there are gaps in the research that make it difficult to draw conclusions. Most studies rely on polystyrene spheres, a specific kind of microplastic that can be purchased commercially but doesn’t reflect the vast range of plastics and chemicals in the natural environment.

Susanne Brander, an Oregon State University professor who also worked on the recent report, acknowledges these shortcomings. “More studies are needed on environmentally relevant plastic types before we can say with full confidence that the plastics you’re exposed to every day could harm you in these ways,” Brander said. “But I think it’s safe to say that it’s a concern, and if we’re seeing responses in mouse models, it’s likely that humans are also being affected.”

Toxicologists, ecologists and other scientists have been digging deep into these questions, but the scientific process is still in its infancy. Meanwhile, major environmental agencies such as the Environmental Protection Agency and National Science Foundation have not provided funding for microplastic research regarding human health.

We already know enough to take action on the microplastics problem, but without all the details, it’s much more challenging to bring about change. If we could bring specifics to the table — for example, that these plastics cause cancer, damage organs, reduce fertility — there would be more pressure on public officials to pass sweeping regulations.

“We have to make a bit of a leap and say, whatever’s happening in rodents is happening at similar quantities in humans,” Coffin said, “and there is a little bit of a precautionary principle baked into that assumption.”

But will we be willing to make that leap? Because microplastics are too small to clean up, the only solution is to stop plastic waste at the source. And doing so would take a radical adjustment, given that plastics are deeply embedded in our economy and lifestyle. Weaning ourselves from them would fundamentally affect countless industries, including textiles, transportation and manufacturing.

“I think we’re going to need to have more studies coming out that are directly related to human health before we see a lot more concern from the general public,” Brander said. “It takes a lot to convince people that something that is really convenient for them to use is something they should sacrifice.”

The question of microplastics and human health needs more attention — from the scientific community, the general public, the government and funding groups. The issue isn’t being ignored, but it’s not being prioritized either.

In a perfect world, the knowledge we have now would be enough impetus for policy change. But in a society stuck in its ways and reluctant to alter the status quo, we need more than precaution to move the needle.

‘Anarchy and chaos’: Michael Bender book describes turmoil in Trump White House

‘Anarchy and chaos’: Michael Bender book describes turmoil in Trump White House

 

WASHINGTON – Furious arguments, abrupt decision changes, perpetual dismay and “anarchy and chaos” defined the finals days of the Trump administration, according to The Wall Street Journal’s senior White House correspondent, Michael Bender.

Bender’s book, “‘Frankly, We Did Win This Election’: The Inside Story of How Trump Lost,” compiles interviews with dozens of former Trump staffers and allies, as well as two interviews with former President Donald Trump himself.

The book depicts the inner workings of a White House and presidential campaign in turmoil, as Trump’s subordinates fought each other for influence and grappled with obeying presidential orders that often contradicted basic democratic and constitutional norms.

Bender recounted that Trump called for whoever “leaked” information on him staying in a bunker during protests in 2020 to be “executed” for their actions.

Trump was infuriated after The New York Times reported he, first lady Melania Trump and their son, Barron, had been put in a bunker beneath the East Wing as racial justice protests in Lafayette Square, near the White House, were cleared by federal, local and military police.

At a meeting with top law enforcement, military and policy aides, Trump “boiled over as soon as they arrived,” according to Bender. “It was the most upset some aides had ever seen the president.”

The book recounts: “‘Whoever did that, they should be charged with treason!’ Trump yelled. ‘They should be executed!’” White House chief of staff Mark Meadows, who “repeatedly tried to calm the president as startled aides avoided eye contact,” Bender wrote, promised Trump the officials present would find whoever leaked the story.

A new book on the Trump White House by Wall Street Journal reporter Michael Bender reveals turmoil and chaos, particularly related to the handling of the pandemic and the 2020 campaign.
A new book on the Trump White House by Wall Street Journal reporter Michael Bender reveals turmoil and chaos, particularly related to the handling of the pandemic and the 2020 campaign.

 

In 2018, Trump casually praised the leader of Nazi Germany, Adolf Hitler, for his economic policies and popularity within the fascist regime, according to the book.

“Well, Hitler did a lot of good things,” Trump reportedly remarked to White House chief of staff John Kelly, a former four-star Marine general. “You cannot say anything supportive of Adolf Hitler,” an astounded Kelly replied, “You just can’t.”

Much of the chaos of the Trump campaign and White House in 2020, Bender wrote, centered on the administration’s missteps in its pandemic response and the subsequent economic downturn and the social upheaval brought by the death of George Floyd, a Minneapolis Black man murdered by a police officer.

Trump had a visceral response to the Floyd video, calling the event “terrible.” He tweeted his support for the Floyd family, promising that “justice will be served.” His tone shifted rapidly as protesters calling for racial justice filled the streets of cities and towns.

Bender’s work depicts frantic scenes of Trump administration aides deeply concerned over the president’s cavalier desire to deploy military troops against peaceful protesters and rioters alike.

“The country had turned into a tinderbox. And inside the Oval Office was a president who liked playing with matches,” Bender wrote, describing aides he spoke with as horrified by the president’s behavior.

Trump calls for military intervention

Multiple times, Trump called for the military to be deployed and to use live ammunition against protesters, aides said.

In one tense exchange, senior adviser Stephen Miller, an ardent Trump ally, told a group of aides that “these cities are burning,” which justified intense military intervention.

Gen. Mark Milley, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, reportedly told Miller to shut up, using expletives.

“Let me show you what I can do with the National Guard before we make that next jump,” said Milley, who was unnerved by the prospect of U.S. troops being deployed against civilians, according to Bender.

Campaign in disarray

In the weeks approaching the presidential election, the Trump campaign was beleaguered in internal disputes and self-confidence issues, Bender wrote.

After a story pitched by Trump allies Rudy Giuliani and Robert Costello about Joe Biden’s son Hunter failed to catch steam in the media, followed by Trump’s hospitalization with the coronavirus, the campaign became insular and doubtful, according to the book. At rallies, Trump lamented his poor polling among constituents such as suburban women.

“I didn’t love it,” Trump conceded to Bender on his experience with the coronavirus. Bender described the Trump campaign’s data and media advertising campaigns in disarray despite a $2 billion war chest.

The replacement of campaign manager Brad Parscale with Bill Stepien in the fall led to further financial mismanagement, the book says. Bender quoted Stepien as complaining in the run-up to Election Day that he “has $65 million to spend on digital, and I don’t know whether to put it in Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin and at what levels.”

“Bill is locked in decision paralysis,” Jared Kushner, Trump’s son-in-law and a senior adviser, told Katie Walsh, White House deputy chief of staff, offering Walsh the job to replace Stepien.

Post-election chaos

The disorganization of the campaign bled into efforts to contest the election after the president’s loss, the book says. A defiant Trump ordered aides to pursue dozens of lawsuits and to pressure government aides and allies at the state and federal levels to help him overturn the election results.

Officials at the Justice Department were horrified, Bender wrote, when department attorney Jeffrey Clark aided Meadows in concocting a plan to oust acting Attorney General Jeffrey Rosen and overturn the election results in Georgia.

In addition to pressuring Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger, Trump leaned on Supreme Court justices in North Carolina and pressured aides to convince GOP lawmakers in swing states to help overturn the election.

The insurrection by Trump supporters at the Capitol on Jan. 6 and its aftermath further demoralized those closest to Trump, Bender wrote, though many saw the attack as a “horrifying but inevitable conclusion” to the president’s time in office.

Bender described an aggrieved and somewhat directionless Trump determined to win back power.

“What am I going to do all day?” Trump asked one aide upon landing at his Mar-a-Lago resort in Florida after leaving the White House. The former president’s future remains unclear, though his power within conservative politics is unquestioned.

“Trump was in transition. Weeks earlier he’d been the leader of the free world. Now he was King of Mar-a-Lago,” Bender wrote.

Death Valley hits 130 degrees as relentless Western heat wave adds fuel to wildfires

Death Valley hits 130 degrees as relentless Western heat wave adds fuel to wildfires

On Friday, Death Valley, California, hit 130 degrees.

On Saturday, Las Vegas tied its hottest temperature, hitting 117 degrees, and Utah also tied its statewide record, hitting 117 in St. George.

On Sunday morning, nearly 30 million people remained under heat alerts across several Western states, where temperatures were forecast again soar to 10 to 20 degrees above average.

Las Vegas was forecast again to climb to near 117 degrees. If that happened for the second time in a row, it would be the first time in recorded history.

And all eyes were on Death Valley to see whether it would hit 130 degrees again for the second time in three days, or perhaps higher.

Death Valley is considered the hottest place in the world — it hit 134 degrees back in 1913. No reliable weather station has recorded a hotter temperature on Earth.

Overnight lows have also been very warm. Lows are failing to drop below the 90s in desert locations and below the 80s in several larger metro areas. When overnight hours provide little relief, it can strain infrastructure and increase the risk for heat illness.

Las Vegas, in fact, cooled down only to a suffocating 94 degrees Sunday morning, 1 degree shy of its warmest low of 95 degrees. The dangerously high temperatures are expected to last through the first half of the week for most of the Western region.

But parts of the desert Southwest and the Four Corners region of Colorado, Nevada, Utah and New Mexico may get some heat relief in monsoon showers and thunderstorms. They would be welcome after the most recent indicators revealed that a staggering nearly 95 percent of the West is in drought.

And the heat has continued to fuel the wildfire risk out West.

On Saturday, the Bootleg Fire in Oregon spread rapidly, and the Beckwourth Complex fire in northern California doubled in size. Two firefighters were killed fighting blazes in Arizona.

Because of climate change, heat waves are happening more frequently and lasting longer, and they are increasingly more intense. A study by World Weather Attribution, an international climate change institute, found that the Pacific Northwest heat wave at the end of June would have been “virtually impossible” without climate change. The warmer atmosphere, because of human-induced warming, made the heat wave 150 times more likely and on average 4 degrees hotter compared to the 1800s, it found.

The U.S. also just recorded its hottest June on record.

Alcohol Abuse Is on the Rise, but Doctors Too Often Fail to Treat It

Alcohol Abuse Is on the Rise, but Doctors Too Often Fail to Treat It

 

Andy Mathisen sits in Thompson Park in Lincroft, N.J., after a difficult pandemic year in which his drinking became excessive. (Elianel Clinton for The New York Times).

Like many people who struggle to control their drinking, Andy Mathisen tried a lot of ways to cut back.

He attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, went to a rehab center for alcohol abuse and tried using willpower to stop himself from binge drinking. But nothing seemed to work. This past year, with the stress of the pandemic weighing on him, he found himself craving beer every morning, drinking in his car and polishing off two liters of Scotch a week.

Frustrated, and feeling that his health and future were in a downward spiral, Mr. Mathisen turned to the internet and discovered Ria Health, a telehealth program that uses online coaching and medication to help people rein in their drinking without necessarily giving up alcohol entirely.

After signing up for the service in March, he received coaching and was given a prescription for naltrexone, a medication that diminishes cravings and blunts the buzz from alcohol. The program accepts some insurance and charges $350 a month for a one-year commitment for people who pay out of pocket. Since he started using it, Mr. Mathisen has reduced his drinking substantially, limiting himself to just one or two drinks a couple of days a week.

“My alcohol consumption has dropped tremendously,” said Mr. Mathisen, 70, a retired telecommunications manager who lives in central New Jersey. “It’s no longer controlling my life.”

Mr. Mathisen is one of the roughly 17 million Americans who grapple with alcoholism, the colloquial term for alcohol use disorder, a problem that was exacerbated this past year as the pandemic pushed many anxious and isolated people to drink to excess. The National Institutes of Health defines the disorder as “a medical condition characterized by an impaired ability to stop or control alcohol use despite adverse social, occupational or health consequences.” Yet despite how prevalent it is, most people who have the disorder do not receive treatment for it, even when they disclose their drinking problem to their primary care doctor or another health care professional.

Last month, a nationwide study by researchers at the Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis found that about 80 percent of people who met the criteria for alcohol use disorder had visited a doctor, hospital or medical clinic for a variety of reasons in the previous year. Roughly 70 percent of those people were asked about their alcohol intake. Yet just one in 10 were encouraged to cut back on their drinking by a health professional, and only 6 percent received any form of treatment.

Alcohol abuse can be driven by a complex array of factors, including stress, depression and anxiety, as well as a person’s genetics, family history and socioeconomic circumstances. Many people kick their heavy drinking habit on their own or through self-help programs like Alcoholics Anonymous or SMART Recovery. But relapse rates are notoriously high. Research suggests that among all the people with alcohol use disorder who try to quit drinking every year, just 25 percent are able to successfully reduce their alcohol intake long-term.

While there is no silver bullet for alcohol use disorder, several medications have been approved to treat it, including pills like acamprosate and disulfiram, as well as oral and injectable forms of naltrexone. These medications can blunt cravings and reduce the urge to drink, making it easier for people to quit or cut back when combined with behavioral interventions like therapy.

Yet despite their effectiveness, physicians rarely prescribe the drugs, even for people who are most likely to benefit from them, in part because many doctors are not trained to deal with addiction or educated on the medications approved to treat it. In a study published last month, scientists at the N.I.H. found that just 1.6 percent of the millions of Americans with alcohol use disorder had been prescribed a medication to help them control their drinking. “These are potentially life saving medications, and what we found is that even among people with a diagnosable alcohol use disorder the rate at which they are used is extremely low,” said Dr. Wilson Compton, an author of the study and deputy director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse.

The implications of this are substantial. Alcohol is one of the most common forms of substance abuse and a leading cause of preventable deaths and disease, killing almost 100,000 Americans annually and contributing to millions of cancers, car accidents, heart attacks and other ailments. It is also a significant cause of workplace accidents and lost work productivity, as well as a driver of frayed family and personal relationships. Yet for a variety of reasons, people who need treatment rarely get it from their physicians.

Some doctors buy into a stereotype that people who struggle with alcohol are difficult patients with an intractable condition. Many patients who sign up for services like Ria Health do so after having been turned away by doctors, said Dr. John Mendelson, a professor of clinical medicine at the University of California, San Francisco, and Ria Health’s chief medical officer. “We have patients who come to us because they’ve been fired by their doctors,” he added.

In other cases, doctors without a background in addiction may worry that they don’t have the expertise to treat alcoholism. Or they may feel uncomfortable prescribing medications for it, even though doing so does not require special training, said Dr. Carrie Mintz, an assistant professor of psychiatry at Washington University and a co-author of the study last month that looked at nationwide treatment rates.

The result is that a lot of patients end up getting referred to mental health experts or sent to rehab centers and 12-step programs like A.A.

“There’s a stigma associated with substance use disorders, and the treatment for them has historically been outside of the health care system,” Dr. Mintz said. “We think these extra steps of having to refer people out for treatment is a hindrance. We argue that treatment should take place right there at point of care when people are in the hospital or clinic.”

But another reason for the low rates of treatment is that problem drinkers are often in denial, said Dr. Compton at the National Institute on Drug Abuse. Studies show that most people who meet the criteria for alcohol use disorder do not feel that they need treatment for it, even when they acknowledge having all the hallmarks of the condition, like trying to cut back on alcohol to no avail, experiencing strong cravings, and continuing to drink despite it causing health and relationship problems.

“People are perfectly willing to tell you about their symptoms and the difficulties they face,” Dr. Compton said. “But then if you say, ‘Do you think you need treatment?’ they will say they do not. There’s a blind spot when it comes to putting those pieces together.”

Studies suggest that a major barrier to people seeking treatment is that they believe that abstinence is their only option. That perception is driven by the ubiquity and long history of 12-step programs like A.A. that preach abstinence as the only solution to alcoholism. For some people with severe drinking problems, that may be necessary. But studies show that people who have milder forms of alcohol use disorder can improve their mental health and quality of life, as well as their blood pressure, liver health and other aspects of their physical health, by lowering their alcohol intake without quitting alcohol entirely. Yet the idea that the only option is to quit cold turkey can prevent people from seeking treatment.

“People believe that abstinence is the only way — and in fact it’s not the only way,” said Katie Witkiewitz, the director of the Addictive Behaviors and Quantitative Research Lab at the University of New Mexico and a former president of the Society of Addiction Psychology. “We find robust improvements in health and functioning when people reduce their drinking, even if they’re not reducing to abstinence.”

For people who are concerned about their alcohol intake, Dr. Witkiewitz recommends tracking exactly how much you drink and then setting goals according to how much you want to lower your intake. If you typically consume 21 drinks a week, for example, then cutting out just five to 10 drinks — on your own or with the help of a therapist or medication — can make a big difference, Dr. Witkiewitz said. “Even that level of reduction is going to be associated with improvements in cardiovascular functioning, blood pressure, liver function, sleep quality and mental health generally,” she added.

Here are some tools that can help.

— Ria Health is a telehealth program that offers treatment for people with alcohol use disorder. It provides medical consultations, online coaching, medication and other tools to help people lower their alcohol intake or abstain if they prefer. It costs $350 a month for the annual program, cheaper than most rehab programs, and accepts some forms of health insurance.

— The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism has a free website called Rethinking Drinking that can help you find doctors, therapists, support groups and other ways to get treatment for a drinking problem.

— Cutback Coach is a popular app that helps people track their alcohol intake and set goals and reminders so they can develop healthier drinking habits. The service allows people to track their progress and sends out daily reminders for motivation. The cost is $79 if you pay annually, $23 per quarter or $9 a month.

— Moderation Management is an online forum for people who want to reduce their drinking but not necessarily abstain. The group offers meetings, both online and in person, where members can share stories, advice and coping strategies. It also maintains an international directory of “moderation-friendly” therapists.

— CheckUp & Choices is a web-based program that screens people for alcohol use disorder. It provides feedback on your drinking habits and options for cutting back. The service charges $79 for three months or $149 per year.

© 2021 The New York Times Company

Our climate change turning point is right here, right now

Our climate change turning point is right here, right now

<span>Photograph: Kent Porter/AP</span>
Photograph: Kent Porter/AP

 

Human beings crave clarity, immediacy, landmark events. We seek turning points, because our minds are good at recognizing the specific – this time, this place, this sudden event, this tangible change. This is why we were never very good, most of us, at comprehending climate change in the first place. The climate was an overarching, underlying condition of our lives and planet, and the change was incremental and intricate and hard to recognize if you weren’t keeping track of this species or that temperature record. Climate catastrophe is a slow shattering of the stable patterns that governed the weather, the seasons, the species and migrations, all the beautifully orchestrated systems of the holocene era we exited when we manufactured the anthropocene through a couple of centuries of increasingly wanton greenhouse gas emissions and forest destruction.

This spring, when I saw the shockingly low water of Lake Powell, I thought that maybe this summer would be a turning point. At least for the engineering that turned the Southwest’s Colorado River into a sort of plumbing system for human use, with two huge dams that turned stretches of a mighty river into vast pools of stagnant water dubbed Lake Powell, on the eastern Utah/Arizona border, and Lake Mead, in southernmost Nevada. It’s been clear for years that the overconfident planners of the 1950s failed to anticipate that, while they tinkered with the river, industrial civilization was also tinkering with the systems that fed it.

The water they counted on is not there. Lake Powell is at about a third of its capacity this year, and thanks to a brutal drought there was no great spring runoff to replenish it. That’s if “drought” is even the right word for something that might be the new normal, not an exception. The US Bureau of Reclamation is overdue to make a declaration that there is not enough water for two huge desert reservoirs and likely give up on Powell to save Lake Mead.

I got to see the drought up close when I spent a week in June floating down the Green River, the Colorado River’s largest tributary. The skies of southern Utah were full of smoke from the Pack Creek wildfire that had been burning since June 9 near Moab, scorching thousands of acres of desert and forest and incinerating the ranch buildings and archives of the legendary river guide and environmentalist Ken Slight (fictionalized as Seldom Seen Slim in Edward Abbey’s novel The Monkey Wrench Gang), now 91. Climate chaos destroys the past as well as the future. As of July 6, the fire is still burning.

It wasn’t just the huge plume of smoke that filled us with dread about the adventure to come; the weather forecast of daily temperatures reaching 106 F made living out of doors for a week seem daunting. Water level in the river was far lower than normal and due to drop a lot more; the temperature on our rafts and kayaks just above the water was tolerable – but as soon as you walked any distance from the river’s edge, the heat came at you as though you’d opened an oven door.

We saw an unusual amount of wildlife on the trip too – mustangs, bighorn sheep, a lean black bear and her two cubs pacing the river’s edge – but any sense of wonder was tempered by the likelihood that thirst had driven them down from the drought-scorched stretches beyond the river. We need a new word for that feeling for nature that is love and wonder mingled with dread and sorrow, for when we see those things that are still beautiful, still powerful, but struggling under the burden of our mistakes.

Then came the heat dome over the Northwest, a story that didn’t appear to make the top headlines of many media outlets as it was happening. Much of the early coverage showed people in fountains and sprinklers as though this was just another hot day, rather than something sending people to hospitals in droves, killing hundreds (and likely well over a thousand) in Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia, devastating wildlife, crops, and domestic animals, setting up the conditions for wildfires, and breaking infrastructure designed for the holocene, not the anthropocene. It signified something much larger even than a crisis impacting a vast expanse of the continent: increasingly wild variations from the norm with increasing devastation that can and will happen anywhere. It seemed to get less coverage than the collapse of part of a single building in Florida.

A building collapsing is an ideal specimen of news, sudden and specific in time and place, and in the case of this one on the Florida coast, easy for the media to cover as a spectacle with straightforward causes and consequences. A crisis spread across three states and two Canadian provinces, with many kinds of impact, including untallied deaths, was in many ways its antithesis. There was a case to be made that climate change – in the form of rising saltwater intrusion – was a factor in the Florida building’s collapse, but climate change was far more dramatically present in the Pacific Northwest’s heat records being broken day after day and the consequences of that heat. In Canada the previous highest temperature was broken by eight degrees Fahrenheit, a big lurch into the dangerous new conditions human beings have made, and then most of the town in which that record was set burned down.

Later news stories focused on one aspect or another of the heat dome. A marine biologist at the University of British Columbia reported that the heat wave may have killed more than a billion seashore animals living on the coast of the Pacific Northwest. Lightning strikes in BC, generated by the heat, soared to unprecedented levels – inciting, by one account, 136 forest fires. The heat wave cooked fruit on the trees. It was a catastrophe with many aspects and impacts, as diffuse as it was intense. The sheer scale and impact were underplayed, along with the implications.

Political turning points are as manmade as climate catastrophe: we could have chosen to make turning points out of the western wildfires of the past four years – notably the incineration of the town of Paradise and more than 130 of its residents in 2018, but also last year’s California wildfires that included five of the six largest fires in state history. It could include the deluge that soaked Detroit with more than six inches of rain in a few hours last month or the ice storm in Texas earlier this year or catastrophic flooding in Houston (with 40 inches of rain in three days) and Nebraska in 2019 or the point at which the once-mythical Northwest Passage became real because of summer ice melt in the Arctic or the 118-degree weather in Siberia this summer or the meltwater pouring off the Greenland ice sheet.

A turning point is often something you individually or collectively choose, when you find the status quo unacceptable, when you turn yourself and your goals around. George Floyd’s murder was a turning point for racial justice in the US. Those who have been paying attention, those with expertise or imagination, found their turning points for the climate crisis years and decades back. For some it was Hurricane Sandy or their own home burning down or the permafrost of the far north turning to mush or the IPCC report in 2018 saying we had a decade to do what the planet needs of us. Greta Thunberg had her turning point, and so did the indigenous women leading the Line 3 pipeline protests.

Summarizing the leaked contents of a forthcoming IPCC report, the Agence France-Presse reports: “Climate change will fundamentally reshape life on Earth in the coming decades, even if humans can tame planet-warming greenhouse gas emissions […] Species extinction, more widespread disease, unliveable heat, ecosystem collapse, cities menaced by rising seas – these and other devastating climate impacts are accelerating and bound to become painfully obvious before a child born today turns 30. The choices societies make now will determine whether our species thrives or simply survives as the 21st century unfolds…”

The phrase “the choices societies make” is a clear demand for a turning point, a turning away from fossil fuel and toward protection of the ecosystems that protect us.

Every week I temper the terrible news from catastrophes such as wildfires and from scientists measuring the chaos by trying to put them in the context of positive technological milestones and legislative shifts and their consequences. You could call each of them a turning point: The point last week at which Oregon passed the bill setting the most aggressive clean electricity standards in the US, 100% clean by 2040. The point at which Scotland began getting more electricity from renewables than it could use. The point at which New York State banned fracking. The Paris Climate Treaty in 2015. Of course, as with the climate itself, many of the changes were incremental: the stunning drop in cost and rise in efficiency of solar panels over the past four decades, the myriad solar and wind farms that have been installed worldwide.

The rise in public engagement with the climate crisis is harder to measure. It’s definitely growing, both as an increasingly powerful movement and as a matter of individual consciousness. Yet something about the scale and danger of the crisis still seems to challenge human psychology. Along with the fossil fuel industry, our own habits of mind are something we must overcome.

  • Rebecca Solnit is a Guardian US columnist. She is also the author of Men Explain Things to Me and The Mother of All Questions. Her most recent book is Recollections of My Nonexistence

Confederate Monuments ?

Posted on Amy Klobuchar -Progress for America
May be an image of 1 person
A true daughter of the confederacy has written what should be the last words on the monuments:
By Caroline Randall Williams               June 26, 2020
I have rape-colored skin. My light-brown-blackness is a living testament to the rules, the practices, the causes of the Old South.
If there are those who want to remember the legacy of the Confederacy, if they want monuments, well, then, my body is a monument. My skin is a monument.
Dead Confederates are honored all over this country — with cartoonish private statues, solemn public monuments and even in the names of United States Army bases. It fortifies and heartens me to witness the protests against this practice and the growing clamor from serious, nonpartisan public servants to redress it. But there are still those — like President Trump and the Senate majority leader, Mitch McConnell — who cannot understand the difference between rewriting and reframing the past. I say it is not a matter of “airbrushing” history, but of adding a new perspective.
I am a black, Southern woman, and of my immediate white male ancestors, all of them were rapists. My very existence is a relic of slavery and Jim Crow.
According to the rule of hypodescent (the social and legal practice of assigning a genetically mixed-race person to the race with less social power) I am the daughter of two black people, the granddaughter of four black people, the great-granddaughter of eight black people. Go back one more generation and it gets less straightforward, and more sinister. As far as family history has always told, and as modern DNA testing has allowed me to confirm, I am the descendant of black women who were domestic servants and white men who raped their help.
It is an extraordinary truth of my life that I am biologically more than half white, and yet I have no white people in my genealogy in living memory. No. Voluntary. Whiteness. I am more than half white, and none of it was consensual. White Southern men — my ancestors — took what they wanted from women they did not love, over whom they had extraordinary power, and then failed to claim their children.
What is a monument but a standing memory? An artifact to make tangible the truth of the past. My body and blood are a tangible truth of the South and its past. The black people I come from were owned by the white people I come from. The white people I come from fought and died for their Lost Cause. And I ask you now, who dares to tell me to celebrate them? Who dares to ask me to accept their mounted pedestals?
You cannot dismiss me as someone who doesn’t understand. You cannot say it wasn’t my family members who fought and died. My blackness does not put me on the other side of anything. It puts me squarely at the heart of the debate. I don’t just come from the South. I come from Confederates. I’ve got rebel-gray blue blood coursing my veins. My great-grandfather Will was raised with the knowledge that Edmund Pettus was his father. Pettus, the storied Confederate general, the grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan, the man for whom Selma’s Bloody Sunday Bridge is named. So I am not an outsider who makes these demands. I am a great-great-granddaughter.
And here I’m called to say that there is much about the South that is precious to me. I do my best teaching and writing here. There is, however, a peculiar model of Southern pride that must now, at long last, be reckoned with.
This is not an ignorant pride but a defiant one. It is a pride that says, “Our history is rich, our causes are justified, our ancestors lie beyond reproach.” It is a pining for greatness, if you will, a wish again for a certain kind of American memory. A monument-worthy memory.
But here’s the thing: Our ancestors don’t deserve your unconditional pride. Yes, I am proud of every one of my black ancestors who survived slavery. They earned that pride, by any decent person’s reckoning. But I am not proud of the white ancestors whom I know, by virtue of my very existence, to be bad actors.
Among the apologists for the Southern cause and for its monuments, there are those who dismiss the hardships of the past. They imagine a world of benevolent masters, and speak with misty eyes of gentility and honor and the land. They deny plantation rape, or explain it away, or question the degree of frequency with which it occurred.
To those people it is my privilege to say, I am proof. I am proof that whatever else the South might have been, or might believe itself to be, it was and is a space whose prosperity and sense of romance and nostalgia were built upon the grievous exploitation of black life.
The dream version of the Old South never existed. Any manufactured monument to that time in that place tells half a truth at best. The ideas and ideals it purports to honor are not real. To those who have embraced these delusions: Now is the time to re-examine your position.
Either you have been blind to a truth that my body’s story forces you to see, or you really do mean to honor the oppressors at the expense of the oppressed, and you must at last acknowledge your emotional investment in a legacy of hate.
Either way, I say the monuments of stone and metal, the monuments of cloth and wood, all the man-made monuments, must come down. I defy any sentimental Southerner to defend our ancestors to me. I am quite literally made of the reasons to strip them of their laurels.
Caroline Randall Williams(@caroranwill) is the author of “Lucy Negro, Redux” and “Soul Food Love,” and a writer in residence at Vanderbilt University.

Editorial: Welcome, Republicans, to the real, warming world

Editorial: Welcome, Republicans, to the real, warming world

BAKERSFIELD, CA - MARCH 13, 2013: Oil rig pump jacks work the oil fields near the town of Maricopa located in the oil rich hills West of Bakersfield between Maricopa and Taft on March 13, 2013. The area is prime for oil development in the Monterey shale formation as is expressed by Canary, LLC an oil services company that bought a local Bakersfield firm to get in on the ground floor of what could be a huge gush of oil. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
Oil rig pump jacks work near the town of Maricopa, west of Bakersfield. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)

 

Faced with polls showing not only that most Americans want more done about climate change, but that a majority of Republicans feel the same way, a substantial number of GOP lawmakers are sounding a conciliatory note on the issue.

Sixty House Republicans have now joined a Conservative Climate Caucus, formed by Rep. John Curtis (R-Utah), that is willing at least to acknowledge the problem instead of labeling it a hoax, as President Trump did early on, or pretending that it’s temporary and that human actions haven’t contributed. Among its members are three Californians: Reps. David Valadao of Hanford, Michelle Steel of Seal Beach and Jay Obernolte of Big Bear Lake.

Republicans in both chambers appear ready to start talking — and go a little bit further. The Senate recently voted 92 to 8 for the Growing Climate Solutions Act, which was supported by the Citizens’ Climate Lobby. If it passes the House as expected and is signed by President Biden, it would ease the way for farmers and ranchers to earn and sell credits for reducing or mitigating greenhouse gas emissions.

That’s progress, as is the less divisive approach. But in truth, the climate caucus and its somewhat more solutions-oriented tone are far too little, coming this late in the game.

Curtis talks about how he has spent a lot of time trying to understand the science; he and other Republicans needed to be quicker studies because the world is running out of time to avert the worst effects of climate change. Worse, the caucus’ public statements indicate that its members won’t support reining in the use of fossil fuels in serious ways, as climate scientists insist we must do. Instead, the caucus calls those sources of greenhouse gases part of the solution to the need for stable sources of energy.

The caucus’ other areas of interest — safe nuclear energy and carbon sequestration — are more promising, with caveats. If Republicans can somehow come up with a truly safe nuclear path, the nation will be all ears. Right now, however, “safe nuclear” rings a little bit like the oxymoron “clean coal.” And before any thought of expanding nuclear energy can occur, the country would first have to identify a place to store spent fuel rods and then figure out a foolproof way to transport them there.

The most stable forms of energy are the nearly infinite ones, such as solar and wind, not fuels that will eventually be tapped out (and that cause other environmental harms in their extraction). Nor does this country need to rely on foreign sources to maintain a steady supply of the sun.

It will be important for Republicans not to use this as a shield to convince America that they really do care about climate change and the increasingly frequent droughts, wildfires and extreme weather events, when in fact they aren’t willing to take tough steps to soften future blows. Any discussion of environmental reform that excludes a drastic reduction in the use of fossil fuels is just happy talk, not reality.

Nor is it helpful to complain, as Curtis does, that nothing we do will matter much as long as China emits more carbon than the United States. On a per capita basis, this country still produces more greenhouse gas emissions, and China has been making major strides toward clean energy.

For now, incremental change is better than none at all. The reality is that support from both parties will be needed to pass important new climate change laws, and so the help of Republicans is welcome in accomplishing that — as long as they don’t demand concessions on the move to clean, sustainable energy in exchange for supporting tree-planting. With the mounting evidence all around us, the GOP should not have to be dragged kicking and screaming into admitting that there is a climate crisis and that it will require serious and sometimes uncomfortable commitments from the nation.