Election day as a poll worker

I spent election day as a St Louis County poll worker, in a mostly white working-class district of what people call “South County.” There are many aspects of this election that depress me, but the kindness and civility of everyone involved gives me hope.

Because of the pandemic, I was not initially eager to serve (I’m close the age category considered at high risk but don’t have any other medical issues), but when Trump called for 50,000 poll watchers, I felt the need to respond. 

In the US, only poll officials are allowed to stay in the voting area, so Trump’s call seemed ridiculous, but since there was a shortage of poll workers this year (which led to the number of county polling places being reduced from almost 400 to about 230), I decided to volunteer. I say “volunteer,” but I should note that I will get paid $225 for my work. But no one in my polling place did it for the money. We were seven election officials who worked in three bipartisan teams of two (with one extra Democrat rotating in other positions as people rested) and four nonpartisan “safety coordinators” helping with lines and disinfecting.

Polling place before opening

The day was very long; I had to report at the polling place, which was an elementary school gym, at 5:00 am, and the polls opened at 6:00 am. We were there until 7:00 pm. We were supposed to have an hour lunch-break, but that was impossible; it would have put too much of a burden on the colleagues left to work. I took a 30 minute lunch break in my car, and that was the only time I was seated all day.

My job was “Safety Coordinator II,” which meant that I was responsible for wiping down the voting areas after each voter left. I did that for 13 hours. It was exhausting. We were given only two containers of 300 wipes, so we had to use the wipes on multiple voting areas before getting a new one. The containers claimed the wipes “kill 99.9% of bacteria” but did not say anything about viruses, nor did it say it had over 70% alcohol. The ingredients did list many types of alcohol, but it also listed “aqua,” which is just a fancy (Italian) word for “water,” so I’m not so sure that all our wiping was more than theatre.

I was not told what to wipe, so I decided to wipe the desk surface and the parts of the chair that people likely touched, especially the top of the backrest and front of the seat. The other Safety Coordinator II was a young woman, and she wiped seats, but I stopped doing that when I realized it took too much of the wipe’s moisture. Many people seemed reassured that we wiped the voting area and thanked us for doing it. But a small number of people refused to sit down; some just leaned over the table and filled out their ballot, and one woman just stood next to a table we had set up as extra voting space. When I said to her “You can sit at that table,” she replied angrily, “I’m not sitting down! No one should be sitting down.” I’m not quite sure what their theory of infection was, but I assumed people’s clothes and underwear served as masks of sorts that would prevent any virus from infecting them from below.

One awkward detail I learned is that some people sweat when they sit, and leave a wet mark on metal chairs. This is especially common with heavier people, but not the heaviest people.

I wore a surgical mask all day (and changed mask at my lunch break), and wore nitrile gloves all day as well. The gloves were bright orange, which was convenient because they helped me motion to voters to help them find empty seats. But I do wonder if, as I leaned over to wipe the seats and the desks, did I inhale virus being spread by an asymptomatic or pre-symptomatic Covid-19 patient? I guess I’ll know within 14 days.

Poster on face covering

Everyone was required to wear a mask in line and in the voting area. It was the job of “Safety Coordinator I” (not me) to make sure everyone wore a mask and stayed 6 ft apart in line. They also handed out the pens to voters. The pens had a stylus at one end to sign for a ballot on an iPad, and a black ballpoint at the other end for filling out the ballot. We told voters they could “keep the pen as a souvenir” but the pen did not have any writing on it. This was an improvement on the August primary, because it meant we did not have to wipe and reuse pens.

The voting process is interestingly baroque. There are three stations that operate simultaneously to process each voter. Each station has two poll workers, one Democrat and one Republican, and their equipment includes an iPad, which displays the voter’s address and allows him/her to sign for the ballot, and a printer that prints out the double-sided ballot on 14-inch paper. Each voter needs to produce an ID or the sample ballot flyer mailed to their address, and this gets scanned. Both officials need to approve on the iPad and actually initial the printed ballot. These two officials have to work right next to each other; even wearing a mask, there is no “social distancing,” and after 13 hours together, I would be surprised if an infected person did not pass the infection to their partner.

The voter then takes their ballot and finds a space to fill it out. The spaces are just tables with cardboard partitions for privacy. The process of filling out the ballot would be much faster if voters were given wide markers, but they have to fill a box with a normal pen, and since there are around 25 items to vote on, it will take 6 minutes even if the voter only takes 15 seconds to fill in each box. (As an aside: one voter did not understand me when I said “fill in the box”; she insisted she had done so with an X, and then corrected me, saying, “Oh, you mean I have to shade in the box.” She made me feel like English was not my native language! I see now that “to darken some bounded area” is the second meaning of “shade in.”) If a voter needs to look up information, it will take longer. Missouri does not have a box that allows one to vote the straight party ticket; one man commented to me that it would be better if we did. And they do not provide or allow markers. It Taiwan and Hong Kong, voters have an ink-stamp in the voting booth and the just stamp a check mark in a large square. That makes voting a lot faster. It is interesting, though, because ballots there are much shorter; they do not vote on the vast number of offices, judges, and propositions that we vote for in Missouri.

After the voter has finished making their selections, they take the ballot to a machine they call “the Verity,” which refers to a company that makes the ballot machines. It can scan the ballot no matter what side you insert first. After about 6 seconds, it either confirms the ballot was read correctly, or spits it back out and tells you that there is some error. Sometimes voters accidentally mark a second candidate, or they fail to notice the choices on the back side of the ballot (this happens to a surprising number, maybe 10 percent). Since the back side of the ballot includes only questions about retaining judges and constitutional amendments, many voters have no opinion and so either purposely left it blank or decided to approve the ballot in the Verity machine even though leaving it blank was actually an oversight. (You can see a video from the manufacturer here or below) 

One big advantage of the voting system in St Louis County is that if the voter makes a mistake filling out the ballot, they can be issued a new ballot. The ballot with the mistake is taken back and marked “SPOILED,” and the voter can try again. In Hong Kong and Taiwan, if your stamp mark is outside the box, the ballot is spoiled, and they cannot give you a new ballot because the ballots come pre-printed and are limited to the number of registered voters (to prevent ballot stuffing). One family must have spent about 40 minutes in the polling place, as one member made repeated mistakes and had to get a new ballot twice, for a total of three ballots.

In the past, voters put the ballot in a folder, and the folder was presented to the machine to preserve secrecy. Now, the poll workers who run the Verity machines can see who you voted for as you put the ballot into the feeder. Most people held the top and bottom of the ballot together so other people could not see who they voted for. But as a poll worker, and one who was near the voters as they filled out their ballots and put them in the Verity machine, I noticed that it is very difficult to see the ballot and identify who they voted for. It is still quite private, even if voters flash their ballot around.

All the ballots are collected in boxes under the Verity machine, and at the end of the night, they were removed, put into a neat stack, and put in an orange bag for a supervisor to deliver to a drop-off point, along with the disk drives in the Verity machines that include the totals for each race. These totals can be easily uploaded, which is why the results of the election were known just hours later. I was a bit surprised that we had all the ballots scattered across two tables as six of us created a neat pile, but with bi-partisan judges present, there could not be any hanky-panky. Plus, the paper ballots were only back up in case of a recount or technical malfunction.

The Verity is next to the exit, and voters left at that point, with their stylus/pen as a souvenir (though many chose to leave it next to the Verity machine). All voters got an “I voted today” sticker.

Everything went smoothly, but there were a few issues. In the morning, I suddenly saw an attractive woman in line; I was so tired, it did not immediately occur to me that she seemed “attractive” because I could actually see her face. She had apparently worn a mask on in line outside the building, where the Safety Coordinator I was checking, but later took it off. A supervisor went over to talk to her, and then a Republican poll worker escorted her out of the gym without incident. I’m not sure what he told her, but the rule is very clear that voters were not allowed in the polling area unless they were wearing a mask. Alternative arrangements had been made at the Board of Elections office in Saint Ann; persons not wearing a mask could vote in an outdoor tent. The woman had waited close to an hour in line, but still preferred to leave rather than wear a mask. Another woman came in with only a clear face shield; that should not have been allowed, but no one said anything to her. I estimate that about a quarter of voters were not wearing the mask properly, either leaking too much around the nose or not tucked under the chin, and one person wore a mask that looked more like a screen because I could see his mouth through it. None of this was commented upon.

As soon as the polls closed at 7:00 pm, two of the four Republican poll workers took off their masks; not only were they putting all their fellow workers at risk, but I’m pretty sure that was against the county mask mandate. Everyone else kept their masks on, so that I will never recognize my fellow workers because I did not see them without a mask. It is also interesting that a few years ago, Republicans passed a “Voter ID Law” that requires voters to produce a photo ID, but no one checked the photograph, and no one had to take off their mask to prove who they were. A Middle Eastern woman all dressed in black, with her hair covered in a black chador and wearing a black mask, almost looked like she was wearing a burqa.

I was probably overly cautious, but I made sure I did not wear any red or blue clothing; I wore a yellow oxford shirt and grey sweater. Voters were not allowed to wear any partisan clothing or other items, like a “Make America Great Again” hat. I did get the impression some people may have worn Cardinals hats because they were red like MAGA hats, because they also often wore a T-shirt with an American flag on it, but not everyone with a Cardinals hat voted Republican. One woman wore a T-shirt that said “Why be racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic when you could just be quiet.” Another had a T-shirt with an American flag on it and the words, “Just honor it.” Not much doubt about their politics. One Black woman had a mask with the words “Black Lives Matter” stitched on the side, and a supervisor—herself a person of color—told the woman to lower the mask a bit so the writing would not be visible. The supervisor told me later she was not sure if BLM was allowed, but did not want any controversy or complaints. This same supervisor had told me earlier that other people in line had said they were uncomfortable with the woman not wearing a mask, though I did not see anyone complain or make comments.

Part of the line outside the school at 1:00 pm

Our line was 150 persons long at the start of the day, and shortened to about 75 over lunchtime, but got longer again after lunch, to almost 200. We processed about 150 voters per hour. Finally, at 6:10 pm, there was no line. We continued to process a few people who came in, but they did not have to wait in line. This year, voters could vote at any polling station, and did not have to go to the one in their district. There was also a new app this year that told voters how long the lines were at each polling place, and some late voters were coming from a nearby library, where the line was still very long. One woman told me she had been in our line in the morning but realized she did not have time to wait because she had to go to work, so she came back after 6:00 when she got off work.

I have two final take-aways from the experience. First is the realization that a huge number of voters have no idea what they are doing. They probably know how they want to vote for president, but are increasingly unsure as they go down the ballot. The district I was in had some immigrants and non-native English speakers. Some were like an Arab man who sheepishly told me that this was his first election and he wanted to know what to do. He was well-dressed, seemed educated, and spoke fairly good English, though he had to translate for his wife who seemed to know no English. They seemed to know how they wanted to vote but were not familiar with the ballot layout and voting system. A family of four Asians, perhaps Burmese, had to have their ballots re-printed multiple times because they made mistakes. One man had chosen multiple candidates for each office, and we had trouble explaining to him that he had to choose one for each office. Several immigrants had trouble with this. While immigrants were more likely to have major errors and require help, plenty of native-born people were confused and/or did not fill out the whole ballot. One man in his 30s asked me if the constitutional amendment “to extend the two term restriction that currently applies to the Governor and Treasurer to the Lt. Governor and Secretary of State, Auditor and the Attorney General” meant that they would also have a limit or if it removed the limit.

One older lady read the proposal for Constitutional Amendment No. 3 and asked me if I could help her decide, because her note said to vote against it but it seemed to make sense to her. She herself added, “You probably aren’t allowed to tell me, right?” to which I agreed. That Constitutional Amendment passed by 51% to 49%. It was pushed by the Republican Party to undo an anti-gerrymandering reform proposal passed by 63% of voters two years ago. This amendment was purposely phrased in such a manner to be deceptive, because the first clause bans gifts from paid lobbyists to legislators (which is already heavily limited) and “reduces legislative campaign limits” but does so insignificantly. The main clause is the third, which reversed the reforms passed in 2018. In addition, I found out today, the day after the election, that this amendment also removes children and the undocumented population from the population for each district, giving more power to rural areas (where the population is much older than in cities and where there are few undocumented workers). Commentators note that this further cements the Republican Party’s structural advantage in the Missouri legislature.

You might say that this is clever political maneuvering by the Republicans, which is a valid point. But with so many races to vote on, it is hard to focus attention on these propositions and amendments. Americans are used to accepting the results of elections, even when so many of the voters are uninformed. As I mentioned, many people did not even bother to vote on the second page of the ballot, and these important amendments are at the very end of the ballot. In a close vote like this one, 51%-49%, with many voters confused, the result is essentially random. 

This reminds me of E.E. Evans-Pritchard’s discussion of how the Azande made important decisions. When they needed to schedule an important trip or venture, they would consult an oracle. Their most famous oracle is called a poison oracle, because benge, a poison made from plants, was force-fed to a young chicken, and a question is posed to the oracle: “If this is a good time for the venture, kill the chicken” or “...spare the chicken.” The result told them what to do. Evans-Pritchard is famous for arguing that as a way of deciding things, it is as good as any other. We, as modern Westerners, see this as absurd because whether or not the chicken dies is random, affected by the amount of poison fed to the chicken, the poison’s concentration, the health and strength of the chicken, etc. But I’m sure that many in China are looking at our elections and thinking our results are just as irrational and random as the “poison oracle.” All we can say in our defense is to quote Churchill: “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.”

The level of ignorance among voters is a bit depressing, but another aspect of the experience is more uplifting. Quite a few people thanked us for volunteering, and one woman told us that she would order six pizzas for us, and sure enough, 30 minutes later, a Domino’s deliveryman brought us six pizzas. I was struck by how uniformly polite everyone was, with nearly everyone saying “Thank you,” as we pointed to empty seats for them or wiped areas. The Democrats and Republicans checking IDs and printing ballots and running the Verity machines never had any arguments or disagreements. Even late in the day, they were cheerful and polite to all voters. We knew who was of what party because we needed to make sure there was someone from each party at each machine, but someone coming in and watching would not have known who belonged to what party. No politics was discussed at all, even obliquely. No one said anything about the outcomes, or even that this election was close or nerve-wracking. I had two conversations with workers where the topic of what we would do the day after came up, and no one talked about staying up late to following the results. The civility and courtesy of the whole process made recent talk of possible violence and even civil war seem ludicrous. This was not only “Midwest nice”; it was also democracy in action.

Confusion on Pandemic Protocols Demonstrates We Have Poor Leadership

 The social website "NextDoor.com" is a platform where neighbors can discuss local issues. I first learned about it when my sister-in-law used it in her neighborhood to call out for a request to borrow a wheelchair, and a neighbor of hers (who she did not know) offered to lend us a wheelchair for free. It seemed like a nice idea. You have to be a neighborhood resident to participate.

Sometimes, debates that break out on NextDoor are very revealing of cultural issues in American society. I find, for example, that some people are very scared by shootings, and find it necessary to reply to a story by commenting with a few words like "Scary!" or "That's awful." While it is true that shootings are horrible, I don't feel the urge to post such messages, and I also note that few of these shootings are robberies or random. I view them more as sad and worrisome signs of social disfunction than as personally scary.

Yesterday there were over one hundred posts in just a few hours responding to a mother who said her small children, 2 and 5, were being harassed two little boys and using foul language in the neighborhood park. She threatened to call the police and post pictures of the boys on NextDoor if the parents did not reply to her message. This led to an outpouring of comments, most saying that one should never post pictures of minors on social media without permission, and criticism of the threat to call the police, given the problem of police violence. The mother replied with a very measured message, thanking the poster for letting them know of the problem, and saying that foul language and bad behavior was definitely not tolerated in their home and she and her husband would be talking to the boys and going to the park with them in the next couple of days. But she also pushed back at the threats to call the police and post the boys' pictures. Her reply was great; many of the comments were embarrassing, so I did not read most of them.

A few days earlier, a Black WashU student who lives in an apartment with other Black female students wrote to complain that neighbors had called the police on them, once for her roommate screaming loudly in frustration over something, and another time because they were making too much noise playing music at 10:30 pm, celebrating a birthday. The police had been very disrespectful and actually made the birthday girl cry. The student, very reasonably, asked that neighbors come over and talk to them before they called the police, as they did not mean to bother anyone, and police encounters for Blacks are fraught with danger. This led to a vigorous back and forth, as some said they should have known that quiet time in University City starts at 10 pm, others saying it is not right to expect people to confront neighbors since people have guns and you don't know how they might react. One writer accused the student of being privileged for being able-bodied, because she would not have been able to go up the stairs to the women's apartment to speak to them. When you read some of these exchanges, you can't help but feel that social media makes conflict and polarization worse, not better.

Today a dispute is brewing on my NextDoor feed over Covid and masks. Here is the first post:

Laura Central West End West

Covid-19. I’ve been riding my bike or walking in Forest Park and I always wear my mask. If I don’t see anyone near me I occasionally pull it down but mostly just keep it on because many times people ride or run right next to me from behind without masks on. I’d say 95% of people at the park do NOT wear masks. And they don’t stay 6’ away either. What’s up with that? Missouri’s numbers are high and this is probably the reason. It’s so frustrating. Please please think of others. At least wear it on your neck and pull it up when you walk, run, or ride next to someone.

Of course, this leads to replies like this:

George •   

Central West End West

I don’t wear a mask outdoors. I try to stay well separated, but I don’t believe that passing by someone is dangerous. Indoors is very different.

Jenny • 

 

Central West End West

Just wear the mask, please. Indoors or out.

B.B.  • Central West End West

Dosage makes the poison. COVID tends to transmit in longer (15 minutes or more) close interactions in areas with poor ventilation. There is almost no chance of transmitting COVID in an incidental pass while running or biking. Masks certainly reduce the chances of transmission, but the chances of transmission outdoors are near zero.

Coty

• 

Academy

You're pretty dumb to be wearing a mask out doors. I haven't been wearing a mask for months. There's no Law Karen! I'll never wear a mask unless it's super crowded and we have to.

Amanda

 • 

West End 

Not dumb, just socially responsible, considerate, and intelligent. If others were the same, the infection and death rates from Covid-19 would be much lower. To be in denial about this isn't smart, it's irresponsible.

Amber • Academy

You go outside to get fresh air. Not wear a mask. Most people wont wear one outside so you assume that risk. The chances of it being transmitted passing by in 3 second timeframe isnt likely. Mask should be worn indoors wheres there an inclosed space. Just dont sneeze on anyone and its not a problem.

Carl

• 

Central West End West

I don’t believe the evidence points to there being much risk with a quick pass without a mask while walking/running/biking. I don’t think I’d be able to wear a mask while running or biking in Forest Park. 

I also think it’s important to give people space outdoors. I’m often frustrated when groups of 2 or 3 take up a lot of the path when I’m running outdoors without a mask, and I can’t get 6 or even 3 feet away.

 

Steve

 • 

Central West End East

There is essential no danger of infection from briefly going by someone outside, several feet away (excepting, say, someone coughing or sneezing in just that  correct instant with the breeze in just the right direction). Walking on a busy sidewalk is a different matter, as then you are passing many people fairly close together, and passing time is much longer. But jogging or biking in the park, you are almost certainly not near anyone for more than a half second.

Clare

 • 

Central West End East

So ridiculous! There is fresh air all around you and you are poisoning your lungs with breathing your own breathe, just stupid! Keep riding that bike and being a Karen, sooner or later you will be too sick to ride it, so stupid!

Robin

• 

Skinker DeBaliviere

I agree with you, Laura. I wear my mask when I take walks at the park and then distance myself when someone is walking toward me. It is the responsible and safe thing to do.

And on it goes. Social media provides an interesting insight into our culture. And it ain't pretty.

For the record, I do not believe it is necessary to wear a mask in the park. If the issue were not so politicized, and if we were not also arguing over whether it's necessary to wear masks in stores, for example, then we'd have a consensus based on available science. But clearly while we have lots of opinions, there is no agreement on what we should do. The CDC's advice is not entirely clear, though it seems to take the precautionary principle; it says in guidance on visiting parks:

Wear a mask as feasible. Masks are most essential in times when social distancing is difficult, including when hiking on trails that may be popular or crowded.

 It's easy to urge everyone to wear a mask "as feasible," but the advice gets ignored if it does not seem to square with other advice we're given, such as the notion that people need to have close contact for 15 minutes or more to be at risk. If our Dear Leader were not intent on trying to "avoid panic" and denying the seriousness of the pandemic, then maybe such divisions would not be so sharp.

St Louis Relaxes Restrictions: Sociocultural Patterns of the Covid-19 Pandemic

Tomorrow the Covid-19 restrictions in St Louis City and County will be relaxed. The state of Missouri was one of five states that “opened for business” on May 4, which nearly all health professionals said was too early. The City and County now open, two weeks later, but also before the numbers justify it, before testing and contact tracing are in place, so that we risk having another flairs-up. But there are many uncertainties: will people really be willing to go to restaurants? How much difference will wearing masks make? Will most people actually be willing to wear a mask in public?

I spoke with a former secretary in Hong Kong by phone on May 1st, and she was horrified at the Covid-19 situation in the US, and worried for my safety. I realized in talking with her that the news media portrayed a picture that makes the situation seem perhaps worse than it is, though since Hong Kong has only had 1,053 cases and 4 deaths, in a population of about 7.4 million, the situation in St Louis City and County is indeed much worse: with a population of only 1.32 million, we have 5,918 cases and 431 deaths. More importantly, my county reported 51 new cases today, and 4 more deaths. Many worry the pandemic will just pick up again.

Americans live much more spread out than do people in Hong Kong; single family homes are the rule. Americans can easily shop at supermarkets and only go out once every 8-10 days to buy all their groceries (I go to one store, with a shopping list, wearing a mask, and can be in and out in about 30 minutes). I go to a nearby park to exercise, either running (OK, mostly walking) or on bike. The chances of me getting sick are as close to zero as possible.

In Hong Kong, I lived in an apartment building, on the 7^th floor. Most people have to take a bus or train to get anywhere. Elevators, public transit, and crowds on the street, all these add to the risk. This is part of the reason why Hong Kong is working so hard to completely eliminate the virus from the city.

Eliminating the virus was probably never possible in the US. It came from many different directions (via Wuhan, via Italy, via Paris) and was spreading locally before authorities were even aware of its existence. Hong Kong could close its borders, particularly the border with China, but there is no border between states in the US. Trump floated the idea of quarantining the New York City metropolitan area, but it was impossible to do, so he dropped it. The US also has never had the public health infrastructure (e.g. contact tracers, local government personnel) in numbers sufficient to do contact tracing in an epidemic.

Of course, add to that the string of failures of the US government: failure to have PPE stockpiled, failure to plan for an event that would affect the entire country at once, and the failures with the tests. A friend who is a nurse tells me her hospital is still recycling N95 masks, even though they were designed to be single use disposable. The story of the failure of the US response is very clear and was documented early on (see Atlantic story from back on March 21 here, Vanity Fair here, and WaPo here, for example.)

In addition to the different geography of the cities and areas, there is the history of epidemics. Having experienced SARS (and MERS, for Korea), East Asians were not only better prepared but also on the lookout for the next epidemic. Here LINK is a fascinating article about the Taiwanese doctor who went to Wuhan in mid-January, when the outbreak was still not well understood. But he was cautious and informed enough to decline his Chinese hosts’ invitation to dinner in a restaurant. Smart move. And of course, Taiwan’s vice president is an epidemiologist, so they had a real scientist in charge.

In the US, the speed of officials’ responses depended on many factors, including their historical experience with epidemics, but also how much the officials were willing to listen to scientists. Charles Duhigg has written an interesting article contrasting the different ways officials communicated the danger in Seattle and New York. Though the outbreaks emerged at about the same time, the Republicans and Democrats in Seattle were able to agree on a common message and “let the scientists take the lead,” resulting in a much more controlled outbreak in Seattle. San Francisco’s mayor Breed was initially criticizes for overreacting, but hassince won praise for her quick action.

It is amazing to me how uninformed most Americans are about testing and contact tracing, the two features necessary to contain the virus. The Q&A on NPR’s Corona Virus Update for May 2nd shocked me when a nurse who had gotten sick asked how they could trace who gave her the virus. The journalist had to explain that contact tracing was not tracing who she got it from, but who she might have exposed before she was symptomatic. If a nurse does not know that (and the radio host also sounded surprised), then clearly this is not a well understood idea. People also do not understand error rates and the limits of testing. It is more than a little depressing that a comedian like John  Oliver has a better grasp of the issue (and the importance of testing) than most politicians. Many are worried that states are relaxing social distancing before testing and contact tracing are up to a level that can suppress any new outbreaks. 

Hong Kong is being extremely cautious; only residents are allowed to enter the territory, and they have to be tested upon arrival and do a 14 day home quarantine (checked with a digital wrist band; see video here and Twitter feed here); though restaurants never completely closed, schools have been closed and administrative staff at my old university were taking turns staffing the office, one person at a time, until May 4th, when offices were back at full strength. Even the Cheung Chau Bun Festival (ironically, a celebration of the end of a late 19th century epidemic) was restricted and ultimately cancelled for the first time in 100 years, for fear that crowds might spread the virus, even though Hong Kong had reported no new cases for 10 of the previous 16 days and nearly all the new cases were from travelers coming home to Hong Kong. Of course, it is also true that the Bun Festival procession has been an occasion to mock government leaders, so it is possible the authorities were “especially cautious” to avoid being insulted. But in general, people seem to accept that the government policies are medically necessary. (As an aside, I heard an amusing incident in a recent Planet Money podcast where the journalist asked a restaurant manager in Beijing if most people supported the government’s restrictions on restaurants and she laughed and said “next question.” It is really pointless to ask such questions in the Mainland.)

So Hong Kong is relaxing restrictions, allowing people to gather in groups of eight instead of four, and allowing gyms and movie theatres to reopen on May 8. Schools will restart in late May.

But St Louis, and much of America, is opening up only because the peak has been avoided. In no way has the epidemic been controlled, and Michael Osterholm of CIDRAP says not one of the 42 states that have relaxed their restrictions have met the conditions originally set by the White House for Phase 1 reopening. All are responding to political pressure.

The economic problems caused by the epidemic are very real and severe. But many of the workers who are being asked to go back to work are worried that they might get sick, and that they could infect their family. A group called HealthB4Wealth is actually protesting the opening, calling it premature. And the head of the STLMetropolitan Covid-19 task force admits that political pressure led to settingan earlier date. (Note that the previous link is to the St Louis American, a newspaper serving the African American community. It is not a coincidence that the group got more and earlier coverage there.)

It dramatically obvious that poor people are suffering much more tragic outcomes from this pandemic. Blacks and Latinx get the virus, and die from it, in higher numbers (see here). And medical anthropologists would not be surprised. In fact, the journalists who broke the story of the disparate racial impact of Covid-19 for Chicago’s WBEZ have been researching how class and race affect health, so they were thefirst to realize that though Blacks make up 29% of Chicago’s population, theyrepresented 70% of deaths by early April. Days later, it emerged that the first twelvepeople to die in St Louis City were all Black. Since then, the press has stopped reporting the race of the dead, but several reports have said that most are African Americans.

Of course, there is nothing genetic about this. Blacks and Hispanics are more vulnerable because many are poor, so have had less medical care, and often eat high calorie diets because they are cheaper, so they end up with hypertension and diabetes, which make the outcome of Covid-19 infection much worse.

In addition, many of the so-called “essential workers” who could not work at home are minorities, so they have been more exposed, and therefore more likely to get sick. I was on a call recently when someone suggested African Americans were less likely to “social distance” or follow the rules; I think this is absurd. I heard of a wealthy family in the suburb of Chesterfield (83% white, 11% Asian, 4% Black) that tried to hold a party for a graduate last week. The 30 cars on the street gave them away, and the police came and told everyone to leave. I would be willing to bet that the rich are more likely to believe the rules don't apply to them, or that they are safer than the rest (which, in some ways, they are--that is privilege).

Because “essential workers” still have to go to work, often by taking a bus or train to get there, they continue to get exposed, and to spread the virus to family members. It is not a coincidence that 33 MetroTransit workers have tested positive for the coronavirus, and two have died. Wealthier and non-minority people can work and hide in their homes and remain safe. A recent article in the Boston Review examines the shameful history of racism in St Louis, and the role it plays in the Covid-19 epidemic. 

What is frustrating, to me, is to see people who push for the economy to “reopen” without realizing that they are relatively privileged and protected, but a) still vulnerable, and b) can infect others. The Atlantic recently had an article that argued “Georgia’s brash reopening puts much of the state’s working class in an impossible bind: risk death at work, or risk ruining yourself financially at home. In the grips of a pandemic, the approach is a morbid experiment in just how far states can push their people.”  Non-Americans often do not realize that “essential US workers often lack sickleave and health care – benefits taken for granted in most other countries.”  That results in people going to work even when sick, because they or their family need the money, or because they fear being fired if they miss work. That is not a way to fight a pandemic.

Some who are frustrated by the government restrictions even go so far as to claim the whole coronavirus is a hoax. One such person wrote a screed on my NextDoor feed today, claiming that no one is actually dying of it. I’d like to think she was drunk, but I fear she was just watching too much Fox News. When the epidemic began, it was emphasized that “we’re all in this together.” But now, the racial fault lines, and political fault lines, are growing wider. Journalists already commented in early March on the early partisan division, but now it has become particularly toxic (NY Times 1 March and The Atlantic 20 March). 

Some people even refuse to wear masks, viewing the imposition of masks a threat to their freedom. One NextDoor post replied to a polite message that mentioned wearing a mask this way: “Your demand that someone else wear a mask to allay your fears is a pernicious form of bullying, so please knock it off.” Fortunately, the original poster replied politely again:

I wasn’t demanding that anyone wear a mask, simply asking for people to wear masks as a courtesy to others, and to help stop the spread of the virus. No reason to be afraid of the virus, just be cautious and aware of it. However, your response seems a little on edge. Maybe I’m just reading it wrong, tone isn’t always well conveyed over the internet. But if you are feeling on edge, let me know if you need someone to talk to. I would be happy to help ☺️

This is a good example the American individualist, who thinks that he/she should be able to do whatever they please, and don’t understand how their actions can impact other people. If it was not so self-centered and childish, it might be funny, but in a pandemic, it’s alarming. Here’s another example just in from NextDoor:

...And all I want to do is go to the pool.  I have read two articles stating it is safe to swim in the ocean and indoor pools.  None saying it is not safe.

Open up the country.  If business owners don’t want to open yet, then don’t open.  If people don’t want to go out yet, then don’t go.  If employees are afraid to go back to work, there are 36 million waiting for a job.  We are adults.  We have seen what this virus can do.  We have been told 20 times a day how to keep ourselves safe.  We are adults, let us make the decision about where we go when. 

I sympathize with her frustration, also because the rules are different in different states; Pennsylvania did not allow gardeners and outdoor construction, while most states did. Still, the naivete of this author stunning. It is true that articles say pools are safe, but all the articles also say that the dressing rooms, toilets, and poolside are all places where contagion would be likely. And if she gets infected, it is not just her that is affected: she will go to stores and the supermarket, and could infect others, especially the pool staff and other “essential workers” who cannot protect themselves as well as she may be able to. So it is not just a matter of everyone deciding for themselves what risks they are able to accept. American notions of freedom and liberty seem to prevent some people from understanding how they are tied to others in webs of relations.

The expensive consultants McKinsey just sent me a report which says:

Uncertainty about the continuing spread of the coronavirus makes people fear for their health and their lives. Uncertainty about their livelihoods makes them cautious about spending. Under high uncertainty, business leaders find it impossible to make reliable plans for investment.
This uncertainty is toxic for our economic recovery.
The objective now must be to crush uncertainty as soon as possible.

Good luck with that. Uncertainty will be with us for a long time. And states can “open” their economies, but will customers go back to restaurants and movie theatres? How much of a difference will masks and handwashing make, especially if some people actively refuse to comply? There is plenty of uncertainty, and it is likely to last quite a while.