Ted Cruz, North Carolina, & The Grayson Allen Effect

There are two major showdowns coming to North Carolina this month: the Duke-UNC game on March 5, and the GOP Primary on March 15.

Propelled by his Super Tuesday victories in three states, Ted Cruz has decided to press forward in his campaign for the Republican nomination for the presidency, presumably to include the North Carolina Primary as a barbecue-laden pit stop on the path toward a Brokered Convention Hellscape.

Much has been made of Ted Cruz’s face this primary season: its undeniable backpfeifengesicht, its counter intuitive emote, his inability to smile naturally. The most flattering of these notes concerns his resemblance to Duke University basketball player Grayson Allen (with visual aids helpfully compiled by the esteemed Washington Post). Grayson’s political allegiances are unknown, and my sources indicate that he is by all accounts lovely and undeserving of this regrettable craniofacial happenstance.

But Duke’s guard-in-chief has provoked similarly inflamed rhetoric, albeit for offenses less grandiose than those of the Texas senator. Two of my favorite descriptors are “annoyingly competent” and “seemingly designed to make you angry,” followed promptly by “very, very, good, of course.”

Now: North Carolinians have plenty of meaningful matters to be concerned about, including racial gerrymandering and a confusing voter ID law. But in advance of the Duke-UNC game, I’d like to explore a harebrained hypothesis: that Cruz’s resemblance to Grayson Allen will deter some hardened Carolina fans, ultimately costing him some votes – and a delegate. And in North Carolina, proportional representation means that Ted Cruz’s electoral fate could hang in the balance.

Continue reading “Ted Cruz, North Carolina, & The Grayson Allen Effect”

Ted Cruz, North Carolina, & The Grayson Allen Effect

Secondhand Musings: Roles, Consensus, and the AUMF

This was posted in a Duke security group in response to this article (not necessary reading) on opportunities presented by the proposed Authorization for Use of Military Force against ISISetc. I wish I could credit the author – it’s a secondhand quote, posted in a closed group from a hard copy of a paper he was grading – but I nonetheless thought it salient enough to both current proceedings and other unrelated foreign policy debates to be worthy of broader dissemination. Continue reading “Secondhand Musings: Roles, Consensus, and the AUMF”

Secondhand Musings: Roles, Consensus, and the AUMF

How to Win Friends and Immunize Kids

The ongoing measles outbreak in Southern California has summoned spectres of the scenes that originally motivated me to work on immunization access in the Middle East. Parents so eager to vaccinate their children that the phone would ring off the hook during stock-outs, forcing clinics to reallocate nurses to issue updates. Girls who use their hijabs to cover the trademark swelling of mumps, so they wouldn’t be removed from school. Typhoid breaking out days before a war did the same, forcing thousands into shelters crowded beyond belief with no hygienic systems to speak of.

I wish every teethy news cycle sprung up smack before a long run. My modus operandi in response to implacable rejection of basic facts is to fume – which, while generally useless, makes for good fuel. I’m presently a global health policy student, where this sort of emotional response to public welfare issues is not at all unusual.

Convincing people opposed to vaccination to inoculate their children is nigh-impossible. Evidence presented by people with 12 years of advanced scientific and medical training does not change minds. All the snarky, cathartic Amazon reviews in the world will not change minds. Banning unvaccinated children from schools does not change minds – and for what? To be homeschooled by scientifically illiterate parents, and continue the cycle? Coercion, in fact, births strategic evasion: doctors in California have allegedly begun falsifying immunization records. Hoping that the selectively unvaccinated end up with the more evolutionarily disadvantageous side effects of mumps and breed themselves out of existence is, likewise, an exercise in dangerous futility.

It’s important to remember that failing to change minds about the safety of routine immunization means more than just the failure to win an argument. The negative externalities presented by the selectively unvaccinated directly risk the lives and well-being of the unwillingly immunocompromised. If you think these people are idiots in the first place, you know this. I’m not telling you anything new. But these are the real consequences of backing people into a corner, righteousness be damned.

Doctors, public health officials, and general believers in the power of modern medicine and (yes, okay, including me) need to get their Dale Carnegie on. What we are doing is not working. Allow me to cite some depression-era words of wisdom:

“It is hard to change minds under the best of circumstances; do not handicap yourself by telling people they are wrong.”

“We are incredibly heedless in the formation of your beliefs, but find ourselves filled with an illicit passion for them whenever anyone proposes to rob us of their companionship.”

Amid the volatility and mocking disbelief, there are two instances of success I think we can learn from that illustrate these principles (these articles are both very good, and I encourage anyone interested to read them in full):

  1. Dr. Mohammed Pate tackled polio in Northern Nigeria – a hotbed for infectious disease that makes Disneyland look like, well, Disneyland – by treating the reluctant with unparalleled empathy and patience. Here’s an excerpt from The Art of Eradicating Polio:

For at least a half an hour, the man listened as the boy vented. The vaccinators had been rude, the boy said, insulting his mother as they tried to force their way in.

I would be angry, too, if someone insulted my mother, Muhammad replied.

Why do they bring only polio vaccine when we get no help with all our other problems? And are you going to force us to take it? the boy asked querulously. No, it is your decision. I will not force you, the man assured him. But I hope that you will change your mind. Then he patiently explained that the vaccine is safe—he had vaccinated his own kids—and it would protect them from devastating paralysis. And also, that the world has a once-in-a-lifetime chance to eradicate polio—and the boy, and Nigeria, should not stand in its way.

Then the boy’s older brother, who had been listening from behind the curtain, emerged with one more question: Will you be responsible if the children are harmed? Yes, the man promised, and the brother brought the kids out to receive the polio drops. The crowd that had gathered burst into applause.

  1. While all but a few hundred members of the U.S. public were entirely uninvolved, the U.S. policy response to Ebola confronted a similar form of irrational fear. Dr. Ron Klain, short-term Ebola czar, had this to say in a Politico profile:

“…you have to take the public’s fears seriously, and respect those fears. I don’t think it was a surprise that the country was very concerned about Ebola in the fall. It was a new thing to encounter in America, a frightening disease. Our approach has been to try to deal with those fears, both by putting the right policies in place and communicating with people in an honest and transparent way.”

Ron Klain also brings up the important topic of exposure bias. Once the public saw that Craig Spencer, the infected doctor in New York, did not magically infect his fellow bowlers and subway-commuters (and, grumblegrumble, once election fear-mongering died down), public hysteria passed. With vaccination, this works in reverse: as preventable infectious diseases become increasingly rare, memory of the real danger they present fades. Here, at least, the Disneyland cases have served some purpose, persuading reluctant vaccinators and prompting grassroots movements for policy change in schools.

As for top-down action, I struggle to form ideas for concrete policy interventions, generally beset with unbridled frustration at the knowledge that most tools in my toolbox don’t fit the need. But building broader coalitions in support of vaccination programs is absolutely necessary.  It’s a wonder to me, frankly, that fiscal conservatives don’t cheer mandatory vaccination in droves. Disease eradication eliminates all future costs associated with vaccinating, treating, and monitoring; disease elimination from a country or region dramatically reduces them. Forever. For-ev-er. You do see a bit of this thinking occasionally surface: Rick Perry, bless his heart, issued a promptly-overturned executive order mandating HPV vaccination for sixth grade girls in 2007.  Working across the aisle and encouraging politicians of all stripes to find their district-friendly argument for vaccination could soften the ivory tower.

Respecting fears is hard when you know they are ridiculous. But the outrage cycle is not just ineffectual – it’s dangerous. It’s time to swallow the vitriol and focus on developing new strategies that will produce results.

How to Win Friends and Immunize Kids

11 Hours (left) in Iowa

I am a tremendous, shameless election junkie. The kind with an Intrade account. The kind who woke up a bit too early this morning, as though it were Christmas (or Beer Bike).

I love the absurdity of putting Iowa – Iowa! – first, and the resulting frenzy in the heartland. There is a media circus, but it’s separate from the action and shunned by the participants, who value handshakes over media buys – allowing candidates who wouldn’t see the light of day elsewhere to make a grab at the spotlight. There’s the obscene, absolutely nonsensical degree of pandering: ethanol subsidies in the 90s and 2000s, thankfully done away with as of  Saturday, were the best excuse for wide-angle shots of corn fields this country has ever seen. There’s the sadistic joy obtained from forcing beltway suits to down corndogs at county fairs. There’s the pressure to roll up your sleeves and lose the jacket. Maybe it’s growing up somewhat outside the center of influence, maybe it’s the threadbare childhood, maybe it’s having farmers for grandparents – but there’s a strange, uncomfortable populist streak in me unsuppressed by years of meritocracy and only satiated by such elevating spectacles.

Caucuses are an exemplary idea: frenetical masses crowd into classrooms, forced to listen to their compatriots campaign informally before casting secret ballots. They make buttons!

I don't even care that I hate every single one of these things.

Mostly, though, today is an excuse for me to re-watch the absolutely stellar two-part West Wing episode “Twenty Hours in America.” Which takes place in Indiana, not Iowa, but that’s beside the point. It embodies the process of the thing: presidential advisors fail to notice a skip in time zones, miss a flight, and learn to refrain from introducing themselves as people who work in the White House if they want to effectively land a hitch in the back of a pickup.

Oh, and this bro:

11 Hours (left) in Iowa