By Noah Rothman
Monday, August
02, 2021
To judge from White House strategic
communications official Ben Wakana, the Biden administration has had it up to
here with itself.
Over the weekend, Wakana tore
into reporting from the Washington Post and
the New York Times for declining to properly contextualize the
relative risk assumed by fully vaccinated Americans who chose to leave their
houses. He attacked the “irresponsible” failure to note that the rate of
COVID-19 transmission to and from vaccinated individuals is “VERY SMALL.” But
these venues did little more than disseminate the data cited by the
administration’s own public health apparatus to justify the resumption of
indoor mask mandates.
It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence that
the executive branch has all but acknowledged it is hostage to rogues inside
the administration. And yet, anyone in Wakana’s position would be frustrated by
a level of risk intolerance that has led the Centers for Disease Control, among
others, to leverage a 0.06 percent
chance of hospitalization and 0.01 percent risk of death to threaten resumed restrictions on the social and economic life of all Americans.
In more candid moments, Biden officials admit that it isn’t any circulating strain of COVID-19
that keeps them up at night. Rather, the urgent threat is a hypothetically more
dangerous virus that could emerge amid unchecked transmission. For some in the
bureaucracy, that’s a level of risk that is simply unacceptable. They would be
better positioned to argue their case if elite confusion over the public’s
general risk tolerance wasn’t a permanent feature of the governing overclass’s
worldview. This tendency long predates the pandemic.
In early 2019, National
Public Radio reporters were dumbfounded over the
fact that parents continued to let their children play football. Despite the
“years of publicity about how dangerous football can be,” NPR observed,
enrollment in the sport at the high-school level had declined only slightly.
Students, they marveled, “are all aware of the risks of playing football, but
play anyway.” This could only be explained by pernicious socioeconomic
factors—if these children had other ways to advance up the socioeconomic
ladder, the sport would surely wither on the vine. As one expert put it,
“America’s dual commitments to football and racial oppression” have produced a
“gladiatorial dichotomy” in which the wealthy spectate as those of modest means
bleed for their enjoyment. It cannot be that the players enjoy the sport and
have weighed the risks of playing the game against its associated rewards.
These poor souls must have been guided into the game, so it stands to reason
that they can be guided out of it.
The same tone of wide-eyed wonderment
accompanies accounts of the parents who continue to share “mother-to-mother”
breast milk while nursing infants. A full 50 percent of 650 anonymous
respondents to a Facebook survey on the subject didn’t seem to have any concern
about the safety of this ancient childrearing practice. Clearly, Technology
Networks’ report on the subject insists, these
mothers had not been informed of the American Academy of Pediatrics’ admonition
to avoid sharing breastmilk that could include “medications, alcohol, illegal
drugs or other contaminants.” And if you’re blindly sharing breastmilk with a
random sample of nursing mothers, that could be a risk—albeit one that is
substantially reduced through the exercise of basic common sense.
The list goes on: using a tanning bed, getting pregnant after the age
of 35, and even swimming in a chlorinated
pool (As the Times reported,
“although it can be extremely effective in killing germs, it doesn’t kill every
germ right away”). These activities court a level of risk that alarms the
public health apparatus. So, too, do the practices of eating raw
shellfish or cookie dough; the only way to lead a truly salubrious life is to abstain entirely
from these reckless practices. But by the CDC’s definition, a salubrious life
isn’t necessarily a life worth living.
Society’s risk-takers routinely confound
the arbiters of our national discourse, whose level of risk-intolerance borders
on the pathological. Studying to become a professional
crane operator or signing up to fight
wildfires in California; using a cell phone in the car; working the
third shift for any reason; all these vocations
and more contribute to increased personal jeopardy. But the world we inhabit
would be measurably worse without these daredevils. We are all better off
because of the calculations they’ve made.
In the end, we may come to regard as a
profound mistake the public health bureaucracy’s decision to manage the
pandemic with the same dismissible excess of prudence they’ve applied to so
many other activities. “Reassuring the majority of vaccinated Americans they
don’t need to freak out could backfire if it causes those who are at risk to
let down their guard,” Axios reported
on Monday. To state this premise more bluntly, it
could be bad public policy to be honest with the vaccinated lest the
unvaccinated misinterpret the message. The level of condescension on display
here is matched only by the wild impertinence.
By and large, the public is not waiting
for the National Institutes of Health to give the go-ahead before diving into a
half-dozen oysters, getting a base tan, or taking an apprenticeship before
becoming a construction engineer. The CDC’s excesses of caution have already
rendered it an easily dismissed curiosity in the minds of most Americans. It
would be a tragedy if that condition extended to its guidance surrounding the
ongoing pandemic.
At a time when trust in public officials
is needed most, bureaucratic inertia is squandering that trust. Perhaps the
Biden administration should do what it can to put an end to the public health
bureaucracy’s self-destructive habits. For its own good, of course.
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