Monday, July 28, 2014
Policy Planning Pro-Tip
When the industry spending millions to convince you that something isn't happening, is preparing for the consequences of the thing that isn't happening, its time to stop listening to them.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Wickedly Infectious Diseases
One of my favorite books of all time is Camus' The Plauge. Its a story about how people react when they are thrown into a crisis that they can't escape. Doctors spring into action treating the dying, a priest preaches about God's judgment, people try to escape the protective quarantine. There are many engaging aspects of the book, but I was really drawn to, of all things, the bureaucracy of it all. The grinding, homogenizing power of the state arises at the edge of Camus work frequently, but in this case it feels a bit more like Kafka, who was as interested in the conflict between society and the individual.
But this is a policy blog, why, you might ask, am I talking about mid-century French literature? Well, it turns out there isn't just one, but two, plagues in the news this month and I've finally gotten motivated to look into them a little further.
First, there has been a bubbling up of interest in an old scourge, Smallpox. The virus, which is estimated to have killed at least 300 million people in the 20th century alone (three times more than the First and Second World Wars combined), was officially eradicated in 1980 in what may be the greatest public health victory in human history. There are only two awknowledged stores of the virus remaining, held by the CDC in the United States and the Vector Institute in Russia, both under the auspices of the World Health Organization.
Eradication was an incredible international achievement, especially because it has stuck for more than three decades. As far as I know there haven't been scares or stories about weapons labs with secret stores. It really does seem to be a victory for international cooperation, a well-executed plan, and, maybe, a bit of luck.
There have been two lingering matters that have remained since eradication, though. The first is whether the two official stocks should be destroyed and the second is how to deal with other caches of the virus should when they are discovered. Both of these issue have made it into the news in recent months. Most recently, an old set of samples was discovered in storage at an NIH lab in Maryland. Apparently this is the first time that a forgotten laboratory sample has been found and its seem like the CDC was able to retrieve the virus without incident. In this case the virus was probably long dead, but scientists take no chances, when mummies are discovered to have smallpox sores special teams are brought in to ensure that their is no live virus.
People will react two different ways to this, some will be nervous that the samples were undiscovered for so long, others will be glad that we have the capability to deal with such situations. I think the later group has it right, its prudent to assume that the virus might have survived somewhere and plan accordingly.
The tricker question is what should be done with the known stores of the virus. This is a longstanding debate with no clear right answer. The WHO decided earlier this year not to destroy the remaining samples. Each time this decision is made scientists and policy-makers must balance the risk that these samples will somehow reignite the disease versus their usefulness to scientists should it return from another source. With incomplete information its hard to know which course is safer and you can't know that you've made the wrong choice until its to let to undo it. Its a textbook wicked problem and its especially instructive because most of the ancillary issues have been cut away. No even the most ardent hawks advocate for government weaponization of the virus and there are no Smallpox politics to divide decision-makers. In other words everything about the policy turns on the question of risk. People might disagree about which risk is worse.
The second virus inspires a lot more fear today than Smallpox. Ebola is the closest we have to a modern day Bubonic Plague. West Africa is currently in the middle of the worst outbreak of the disease ever recorded, and it has already killed over a thousand people including at least one doctor treating victims in Liberia and an airline passenger who carried the disease from Sierra Leone to Lagos, Nigeria.
This is a whole different kind of problem, but its still wicked. In this case everyone scrambling to combat an acute crisis and attempting to prevent those exposed to the virus from carrying it to new areas. Again, there is little room for disagreement on the end goal for the medical professionals and government officials, but they have been left with a task that may ultimately prove to be too great. The goal (quelling the outbreak) is clear and the means of doing so are well understood, but the margin for error is so small that executing that plan perfectly is basically impossible.
Humans have a traumatic history with infectious diseases and there are few things that causes more concern among scientists and policy-makers than the risk of a catastrophic outbreak. Worse yet, we are faced with difficult, or even impossible choices every step along the way. The best thing we can do is stay focused and not let our policy responses be interrupted by any consideration other than what the scientists tell us is the best way to keep such threats in check.
But this is a policy blog, why, you might ask, am I talking about mid-century French literature? Well, it turns out there isn't just one, but two, plagues in the news this month and I've finally gotten motivated to look into them a little further.
First, there has been a bubbling up of interest in an old scourge, Smallpox. The virus, which is estimated to have killed at least 300 million people in the 20th century alone (three times more than the First and Second World Wars combined), was officially eradicated in 1980 in what may be the greatest public health victory in human history. There are only two awknowledged stores of the virus remaining, held by the CDC in the United States and the Vector Institute in Russia, both under the auspices of the World Health Organization.
Eradication was an incredible international achievement, especially because it has stuck for more than three decades. As far as I know there haven't been scares or stories about weapons labs with secret stores. It really does seem to be a victory for international cooperation, a well-executed plan, and, maybe, a bit of luck.
There have been two lingering matters that have remained since eradication, though. The first is whether the two official stocks should be destroyed and the second is how to deal with other caches of the virus should when they are discovered. Both of these issue have made it into the news in recent months. Most recently, an old set of samples was discovered in storage at an NIH lab in Maryland. Apparently this is the first time that a forgotten laboratory sample has been found and its seem like the CDC was able to retrieve the virus without incident. In this case the virus was probably long dead, but scientists take no chances, when mummies are discovered to have smallpox sores special teams are brought in to ensure that their is no live virus.
People will react two different ways to this, some will be nervous that the samples were undiscovered for so long, others will be glad that we have the capability to deal with such situations. I think the later group has it right, its prudent to assume that the virus might have survived somewhere and plan accordingly.
The tricker question is what should be done with the known stores of the virus. This is a longstanding debate with no clear right answer. The WHO decided earlier this year not to destroy the remaining samples. Each time this decision is made scientists and policy-makers must balance the risk that these samples will somehow reignite the disease versus their usefulness to scientists should it return from another source. With incomplete information its hard to know which course is safer and you can't know that you've made the wrong choice until its to let to undo it. Its a textbook wicked problem and its especially instructive because most of the ancillary issues have been cut away. No even the most ardent hawks advocate for government weaponization of the virus and there are no Smallpox politics to divide decision-makers. In other words everything about the policy turns on the question of risk. People might disagree about which risk is worse.
The second virus inspires a lot more fear today than Smallpox. Ebola is the closest we have to a modern day Bubonic Plague. West Africa is currently in the middle of the worst outbreak of the disease ever recorded, and it has already killed over a thousand people including at least one doctor treating victims in Liberia and an airline passenger who carried the disease from Sierra Leone to Lagos, Nigeria.
This is a whole different kind of problem, but its still wicked. In this case everyone scrambling to combat an acute crisis and attempting to prevent those exposed to the virus from carrying it to new areas. Again, there is little room for disagreement on the end goal for the medical professionals and government officials, but they have been left with a task that may ultimately prove to be too great. The goal (quelling the outbreak) is clear and the means of doing so are well understood, but the margin for error is so small that executing that plan perfectly is basically impossible.
Humans have a traumatic history with infectious diseases and there are few things that causes more concern among scientists and policy-makers than the risk of a catastrophic outbreak. Worse yet, we are faced with difficult, or even impossible choices every step along the way. The best thing we can do is stay focused and not let our policy responses be interrupted by any consideration other than what the scientists tell us is the best way to keep such threats in check.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Science Fiction Policy
There is a fun new piece on Paleofuture about the a government plan from 1959 (but only recently declassified) to build a military base on the moon. The plan predates the Apollo program and its a really cool example of big science and big policy working on together. By the time we actually made it to the moon a decade later, the military edge of the endeavor had been rubbed off, but we can see, from the start, how big the ambition and excitement were for getting into space.
Here's the first paragraph of the report to give you a feel for the tone:
Even though scientific research is tacked on at the end after all the military purposes, this is still a pretty amazing statement of purpose, no less because they were absolutely serious (as evidenced by the rapid development of the space program). At the time all of this was speculative, we were nearly two years away from Yuri Gagarin and Alan Shepard's first space flights and none of the required technology had been built. Can you imagine the military today justifying a program in part to "breach the void of human understanding." The space race is an historical moment that fascinates those of us who are into science policy because of statements like this. Since the end of the Apollo program, over 40 years ago, people have been trying to recreate this convergence of basic science and political necessity.
The whole document is worth a skim (or a read) just to bask in the ambition and optimism of the plan and what we can work to accomplish when the government makes science a national priority. We talk today about launching "moon shots," big technical solutions major problems, and decry the lack of political will to make them happen and our inability to copy our past glory. Perhaps the best thing I learned spending time with this report is that its drafters, whose accomplishments now stand as a seminal moment in human history, say they are attempting to recreate the conditions of the Manhattan Project, I would love to ask them if they feel like they succeeded.
Here's the first paragraph of the report to give you a feel for the tone:
There is a requirement for a manned military outpost on the moon. The lunar outpost is required to develop and protect the potential United States interests on the moon; to develop techniques in moon-based surveillance of the earth and space, in communications relay, and in operation on the surface of the moon; to esrve as a base for exploration of the moon, for further exploration into space and for military operations on the moon if required; and to support scientific investigations on the moon.
Even though scientific research is tacked on at the end after all the military purposes, this is still a pretty amazing statement of purpose, no less because they were absolutely serious (as evidenced by the rapid development of the space program). At the time all of this was speculative, we were nearly two years away from Yuri Gagarin and Alan Shepard's first space flights and none of the required technology had been built. Can you imagine the military today justifying a program in part to "breach the void of human understanding." The space race is an historical moment that fascinates those of us who are into science policy because of statements like this. Since the end of the Apollo program, over 40 years ago, people have been trying to recreate this convergence of basic science and political necessity.
The whole document is worth a skim (or a read) just to bask in the ambition and optimism of the plan and what we can work to accomplish when the government makes science a national priority. We talk today about launching "moon shots," big technical solutions major problems, and decry the lack of political will to make them happen and our inability to copy our past glory. Perhaps the best thing I learned spending time with this report is that its drafters, whose accomplishments now stand as a seminal moment in human history, say they are attempting to recreate the conditions of the Manhattan Project, I would love to ask them if they feel like they succeeded.
"I'll leave that up the scientist" and the Problem of Ignorant Policy-Makers
One of the most frustrating things about science policy is the lousy relationship policymakers seem to have with science. In an ideal world, each of our elected leaders, especially members of Congress would have basic scientific literacy and would be evaluate scientific evidence when it is relevant to their decisions on legislation. That is obviously an ambitious target, and a realistic goal would probably be that lawmakers are willing to trust scientific consensus where it exists and act accordingly.
Of course we don't even have that. Many legislators have a pretty lousy understanding of science, so bad that they think they can substitute their own "understanding" for the real work of real scientists. This problem permeates all aspects of science policy, but it is particularly prominent in climate change. So I was struck, but not surprised by this local story out of Charleston, WV, about a recent Congressional debate between Democrat Nick Casey and Republican Alex Mooney. When discussion turned to climate change and energy policy, motivated reasoning ruled the day and both candidates deployed the expected talking points about supporting the coal industry and fighting EPA regulations.
One line struck me, in particular, though. Casey, the Democrat, when asked about the reality of climate change, persumptively in an attempt to sidestep, answered: "Something is going on. Is it longterm or not? I’ll leave that up to the scientists." This is the problem with science in policy in a nut shell. He claims he'll leave the science to the scientists, but this is undercut by everything else both Casey and Mooney said. The problem is that science is not an agree-to-disagree field, at least not at the level policy-makers are engaging with it. Contrary to the assertion that he will "leave that up to the scientists," Casey might believe he is respecting science, but he clearly isn't, he is interfering with scientific consensus by continuing to support the coal industry.
"Leaving science to the scientists" isn't much more than meme and not even one that is taken seriously. Sure there are plenty in Congress who adhere to science most of the time, but there are many more, it seems, who prefer to use scientists as ivory tower punching bags trying to interfere with the lives of ordinary, honest people. This attitude is toxic to good science policy. Until a majority of politicians are willing to actually leave science to the scientists, all science policy will be fraught with peril.
Of course we don't even have that. Many legislators have a pretty lousy understanding of science, so bad that they think they can substitute their own "understanding" for the real work of real scientists. This problem permeates all aspects of science policy, but it is particularly prominent in climate change. So I was struck, but not surprised by this local story out of Charleston, WV, about a recent Congressional debate between Democrat Nick Casey and Republican Alex Mooney. When discussion turned to climate change and energy policy, motivated reasoning ruled the day and both candidates deployed the expected talking points about supporting the coal industry and fighting EPA regulations.
One line struck me, in particular, though. Casey, the Democrat, when asked about the reality of climate change, persumptively in an attempt to sidestep, answered: "Something is going on. Is it longterm or not? I’ll leave that up to the scientists." This is the problem with science in policy in a nut shell. He claims he'll leave the science to the scientists, but this is undercut by everything else both Casey and Mooney said. The problem is that science is not an agree-to-disagree field, at least not at the level policy-makers are engaging with it. Contrary to the assertion that he will "leave that up to the scientists," Casey might believe he is respecting science, but he clearly isn't, he is interfering with scientific consensus by continuing to support the coal industry.
"Leaving science to the scientists" isn't much more than meme and not even one that is taken seriously. Sure there are plenty in Congress who adhere to science most of the time, but there are many more, it seems, who prefer to use scientists as ivory tower punching bags trying to interfere with the lives of ordinary, honest people. This attitude is toxic to good science policy. Until a majority of politicians are willing to actually leave science to the scientists, all science policy will be fraught with peril.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Water Rights, Water Needs, and Water Conservation
The western United States seems to be in a perpetual state of drought. Its a story that floats in and out of the national news and causes the rest of us some temporary worry, but quickly fades back under the surface. I'm pretty well informed and until recently almost everything I knew about water rights in California came from Chinatown, but a recent story inspired me to dig in a little bit.
Last week, this story out of the Coachella Valley in Southern California caught my attention and left me feeling confused and a bit disturbed. The surface narrative is pretty simple. A greedy multinational corporation (Nestle) is bottling the dwindling water supply of the region in middle of an historic drought, and shipping it away to be sold. How are they getting away with it, you ask? By teaming with a local Indian tribe (The Morongo) and pumping from the tribe's sovereign land, which is beyond the purview of local water management authorities.
Its a pretty outrageous story, and it left me with two big questions:
1. Is this legal?
There is a complex body of laws that governs the relationship between sovereign tribes and the United States government. While the tribes are not fully independent, they do have considerable autonomy, especially over local affairs and in their interactions with state and local governments. The existing reservation structure is based on agreements between the federal government and the various tribes, and courts have consistently ruled that states cannot exercise authority over tribes.
Without the ability to regulate activity on tribal lands, many government functions that are traditionally reserved to the states are instead controlled by the tribes. For most things, like police services, this simply means the tribe can exercise local control like any other government. The best-known example are the casinos that many tribes have opened casinos in states where they are otherwise illegal. It seems that the Morongo tribe has opened a water bottling plant as a revenue source instead.
There is a signficant body of literature on tribal water rights. Water rights are contentious subject in the western United States, in no small part because our layered system of governments creates competition for the supply of water that flows through multiple jurisdictions. Without agreements to regulate water usage and establish rights, those who live upriver can use up a water source and leave those downriver high and dry. In many places tribes (and the federal government) have to fight hard to ensure their land has a fair share of the scarce resources and there is frequent litigation involving states, the federal government, and the tribes to divvy up what little water their is.
The Morongo, it seems, happen to have an upper hand when it comes to access to the blue stuff. After a little bit of digging I discovered that the Morongo have a license issued by the State of California to use water arising within its tribal lands for irrigation. Apparently, though, California has been trying to revoke the license since 2003, accusing the tribe of diverting water for reasons not approved in the state license (like the bottling plant). The State's efforts are ongoing, but haven't succeeded, so it appears that the Tribe does appear to be acting legally.
2. Is it a good idea?
I think this is the more interesting question. The competition between users of the local water supply has created a classic commons problem that government control of the water was created to control. Government manages the supply so that the resource is exhausted. This centralized, long term management is meant to short circuit the incentive individual users would otherwise have to deplete the entire resource before other individual users have the chance to do so. Overuse becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy as individuals rush to collect as much of the resource as they can. Even if they recognize that proper management would be more profitable for everyone in the long term, they must act first or they won't get a share at all.
This seems to be what the Morongo have decided to do. They have access to more water than they need, so they are selling the excess rather than letting it flow on to other living in the surrounding area. From a resource management perspective this is disasterous. While I haven't seen anyone claim outright that Morongo water use is threatening the long term health of the local aquifer or significantly impacting short term supply during the drought, this is exactly the type of conflict that needs to be avoided. While the Tribe's arrangement with Nestle is certainly profitable in the short term, if it does permanent damage to their water access, then they will pay for it in the end.
As water becomes more scarce competing claims are likely to get worse. While many of these claims can be mitigated by careful government management, when the government's themselves compete, it can lead to bad outcomes.
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