The US is struggling with a resurgence of the coronavirus in the South and West. But the severity of Arizona’s Covid-19 outbreak is in a league of its own.
Over the week of June 30, Arizona reported 55 new coronavirus cases per 100,000 people per day. That’s 34 percent more than the second-worst state, Florida. It’s more than double Texas, another hard-hit state. It’s more than triple the US average.
Arizona also maintained the highest rate of positive tests of any state at more than 25 percent over the week of June 30 — meaning more than a quarter of people who were tested for the coronavirus ultimately had it. That’s more than five times the recommended maximum of 5 percent. Such a high positive rate indicates Arizona doesn’t have enough testing to match its big Covid-19 outbreak.
To put it another way: As bad as Arizona’s coronavirus outbreak seems right now, the state is very likely still undercounting a lot of cases since it doesn’t have enough testing to pick up all the new infections.
The state also leads the country in coronavirus-related hospitalizations. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, more than one in five inpatient beds in Arizona are occupied by Covid-19 patients — about 42 percent more than Texas and 65 percent more than Florida, the states with the next-highest shares of Covid-19 patient-occupied beds. With hospitalizations rapidly climbing, Arizona became the first in the country to trigger “crisis care” standards to help doctors and nurses decide who gets treatment as the system deals with a surge of patients. Around 90 percent of the state’s intensive care unit beds are occupied, based on Arizona Department of Health Services data.
While reported deaths typically lag new coronavirus cases, the state has also seen its Covid-19 death toll increase over the past several weeks.
This is the result, experts say, of Arizona’s missteps at three crucial points in the pandemic. The state reacted too slowly to the coronavirus pandemic in March. As cases began to level off nationwide, officials moved too quickly to reopen in early and mid-May. As cases rose in the state in late May and then June, its leaders once again moved too slowly.
“What you’re seeing is not only a premature opening, but one done so rapidly there was no way to ensure the health care and public health systems didn’t get stressed in this process,” Saskia Popescu, an infectious disease epidemiologist based in Arizona, told me.
At the same time, recommended precautions against the coronavirus weren’t always taken seriously by the general public — with experts saying that, anecdotally, mask use in the state can be spotty. That could be partly a result of Republican Gov. Doug Ducey downplaying the threat of the virus: While he eventually told people to wear masks in mid-June, as of late May he claimed that “it’s safe out there,” adding, “I want to encourage people to get out and about, to take a loved one to dinner, to go retail shopping.”
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Ducey’s actions and comments “gave the impression we were past Covid-19 and it was no longer an issue,” Popescu said, “which I believe encouraged people to become lax in their masking [and] social distancing.”
After weeks of increases in coronavirus cases and hospitalizations, Ducey pulled back Arizona’s reopening on June 29, closing downs bars, theaters, and gyms.
Experts say the move is a positive step forward, but also one that came too late: With coronavirus symptoms taking up to two weeks to develop, there are already infections out there that aren’t yet showing up in the data. The state can expect cases, hospitalizations, and, probably, deaths to continue to climb over the next few weeks.
Ducey acknowledged the sad reality: “It will take several weeks for the mitigations that we have put in place and are putting in place to take effect,” he said. “But they will take effect.”
Ducey’s office argued it took the action as was necessary at the time, based on the data it collected and its experts’ recommendations. “Our steps are in line with our facts on the ground that we’ve been tracking closely,” Patrick Ptak, a spokesperson for the governor’s office, told me.
Arizona now offers a warning to the rest of the world. The state’s caseload was for months far below the totals in New York, Michigan, and Louisiana, among the states that suffered the brunt of the virus in the US in the early months. But by letting its guard down, Arizona became a global hot spot for Covid-19 — a testament to the need for continued vigilance against the coronavirus until a vaccine or similarly effective treatment is developed.
Arizona was slow to close and quick to reopen
Arizona was initially slow to close down. While neighboring California instituted a stay-at-home order on March 19, Ducey didn’t issue a similar order for Arizona until March 31 — 12 days later.
That might not seem like too much time, but experts say it really is: When the number of Covid-19 cases statewide can double within just 24 to 72 hours, days and weeks matter.
Arizona was also quick to reopen its economy. After states started to close down, experts and the White House recommended that states see a decline in coronavirus cases for two weeks before they reopen. Arizona never saw such a decline. In fact, it arguably never even saw a real plateau. The number of daily new cases rose slowly and steadily through April and into May, and then the exponential spike took off.
So it’s not quite right to say that Arizona is experiencing a “second wave” of the coronavirus. It arguably never controlled the first wave, and the current rise of cases is a result of continued inaction as the initial wave of the virus spread across the state. (The Navajo Nation, which is partly in Arizona, was an initial coronavirus hot spot. But its case count has declined since May, in part because it took strong measures against the virus.)
Arizona and other states experiencing a surge in Covid-19 now “never got to flat,” Pia MacDonald, an epidemiologist at the research institute RTI International, told me. “That means the states didn’t get to very good compliance with the public health interventions that we all need to take to make sure the outbreak doesn’t continue to grow.”
Despite no sustained decline in Covid-19 cases, Arizona moved forward with reopening anyway. Ptak, the governor’s spokesperson, acknowledged that the state didn’t meet the two-week decline in cases, but he said the state had met another federal gating criteria for reopening by seeing a decline in the test positivity rate “week after week” throughout May.
Once the state started to reopen, it moved quickly. Within weeks, Arizona not only let hospitals do elective surgeries but started to allow dining in at restaurants and bars, and gyms and salons, among other high-risk indoor spaces, to reopen. The short time frame prevented the state from seeing the full impact of each step of its reopening, even as it moved forward with additional steps.
Will Humble, executive director of the Arizona Public Health Association, argued it was this rate of reopening that really caused problems for the state. “It was a free-for-all by May 15,” Humble told me. Referencing federal guidelines for reopening in phases, he added, Arizona effectively “went from phase 0 to phase 3.”
It’s not just that Ducey aggressively reopened the state, but that he also prevented local governments from imposing their own stricter measures. That included requirements for masks, which Ducey didn’t allow municipalities to impose until mid-June — weeks after Covid-19 cases started to rapidly rise. (Ptak claimed the governor acted once he received requests from mayors along the southern border to do so.)
Some of that is likely political. As recommendations and requirements for masks have expanded, some conservatives have suggested wearing a mask is emblematic of an overreaction to the coronavirus pandemic that has eroded civil liberties. President Donald Trump has by and large refused to wear a mask in public, even saying that people wear masks to spite him and suggesting, contrary to the evidence, that masks do more harm than good. While some Republicans are breaking from Trump on this issue, his comments and actions have helped politicize mask-wearing and other measures.
For example, there was an anti-mask rally in Scottsdale, Arizona, on June 24. There, a local council member, Republican Guy Phillips, shouted George Floyd’s dying words — “I can’t breathe!” — before ripping his own mask off, according to the Washington Post. (Phillips later apologized “to anyone who became offended.”)
Evidence supports the use of masks: Several recent studies found masks reduce transmission. Some experts hypothesize — and early research suggests — that masks played a significant role in containing outbreaks in several Asian countries where their use is widespread, like South Korea and Japan.
But for a Republican governor like Ducey, the politicization of the issue means a large chunk of his political base is resistant to the kind of measures needed to get the coronavirus under control. And those same constituents are likelier to reject taking precautions against the coronavirus, even if they’re recommended by government officials or experts.
Ducey himself seemed to play into the politics: One day before Trump visited a plant in the state, and as the president urged states to reopen, Ducey announced an acceleration of the state’s reopening plans.
Other factors, beyond policy, likely played a role as well in the rise in cases. While summer in other parts of the country lets people go outside more often — where the coronavirus is less likely to spread — triple-digit temperatures in Arizona can actually push people inside, where poor ventilation and close contact is more likely to lead to transmission.
Some officials have argued Black Lives Matter protests played a role in the new outbreak. But the research and data so far suggest the demonstrations didn’t lead to a significant increase in Covid-19 cases, thanks to protests mostly taking place outside and participants embracing steps, such as wearing masks, that mitigate the risk of transmission. In Arizona, the surge in coronavirus cases also began before the protests took off in the state.
Arizona is now stuck playing catch-up
Arizona saw its coronavirus cases start to increase by Memorial Day on May 25. The increase came hard — with the test positivity rate rising too, indicating early on that the increase was not merely the result of more testing in Arizona. Hospitalizations and deaths soon followed.
Yet Ducey didn’t begin to scale back the state’s reopening until more than a month later — on June 29. This left weeks for the coronavirus to spread throughout the community.
The sad reality is Arizona will suffer the consequences of the governor’s slow action for weeks. Because people can spread the virus without showing symptoms, can take up to weeks to show symptoms or get seriously ill, and there’s a delay in when new cases and deaths are reported, Arizona is bound to see weeks of new infections and deaths even after Ducey’s renewed restrictions.
“Even if I put in 100 percent face mask use and everybody complied with it in Arizona right now, there would still be weeks of pain,” Cyrus Shahpar, a director at the global health advocacy group Resolve to Save Lives, told me. “There are people out there spreading disease, and it takes time [to pick them up as cases], from exposure to symptom onset to testing to getting the testing results.”
Experts argue the state still needs to go even further. Humble advocated for more hospital staffing, a statewide mask requirement, more rigorous rules and better enforcement of the rules for reopening businesses, and improved testing capacity and contact tracing. He also pointed to the lack of timely testing in prisons as one area that hasn’t gotten enough attention and could lead to a blind spot for future Covid-19 outbreaks.
One potentially mitigating factor is the state’s infected have trended younger than they did in initial bouts of the US’s coronavirus outbreak, with people aged 20 to 44 making up roughly half of cases. That could keep the death toll down a bit — though Covid-19 deaths in Arizona have already risen, and experts warn of the risks of long-term complications from the coronavirus, including severe lung scarring, among young people as well.
Above all, experts say that the rise in cases was preventable and predictable.
The research suggests the lockdowns worked. One study in Health Affairs concluded:
Adoption of government-imposed social distancing measures reduced the daily growth rate by 5.4 percentage points after 1–5 days, 6.8 after 6–10 days, 8.2 after 11–15 days, and 9.1 after 16–20 days. Holding the amount of voluntary social distancing constant, these results imply 10 times greater spread by April 27 without SIPOs (10 million cases) and more than 35 times greater spread without any of the four measures (35 million).
The flipside, then, is likely true: Easing lockdowns likely led to more virus transmission.
This is what researchers saw in previous disease outbreaks.
Several studies of the 1918 flu pandemic found that quicker and more aggressive steps to enforce social distancing saved lives in those areas. But this research also shows the consequences of pulling back restrictions too early: A 2007 study in JAMA found that when St. Louis — widely praised for its response to the 1918 pandemic — eased its school closures, bans on public gatherings, and other restrictions, it saw a rise in deaths.
Here’s how that looks in chart form, with the dotted line representing excess flu deaths and the black and gray bars showing when social distancing measures were in place. The peak came after those measures were lifted, and the death rate fell only after they were reinstated.
This did not happen only in St. Louis. Analyzing data from 43 cities, the JAMA study found this pattern repeatedly across the country. Howard Markel, a co-author of the study and the director of the University of Michigan’s Center for the History of Medicine, described the results as a bunch of “double-humped epi curves” — officials instituted social distancing measures, saw flu cases fall, then pulled back the measures and saw flu cases rise again.
Arizona is now seeing that in real time: Social distancing worked at first. But as the state relaxed social distancing, it saw cases quickly rise.
This is why experts consistently cautioned not just Arizona but other states against reopening too quickly. It’s why they asked for some time — two weeks of falling cases — before states could start to reopen. It’s why they asked for states to take the reopening process slowly, ensuring that each relaxation didn’t lead to a surge in new Covid-19 cases.
Because Arizona and its leaders didn’t heed such warnings, it’s now suffering a predictable, preventable crisis — making it the state with the worst coronavirus epidemic in the country that’s suffered the most widespread coronavirus outbreak in the world.
Covid-19 testing in the US improved dramatically over the first half of 2020, but things now appear to be breaking down once more as coronavirus cases rise and outstrip capacity — to the point that the mayor of a major American city can’t get testing quickly enough to potentially avoid spreading the virus.
“We FINALLY received our test results taken 8 days before,” Atlanta Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms tweeted on July 8. “One person in my house was positive then. By the time we tested again, 1 week later, 3 of us had COVID. If we had known sooner, we would have immediately quarantined. Perhaps the National Guard can help with testing too.”
Anecdotally, I’ve heard of similar delays across the country — people waiting days or even weeks for their Covid-19 test results after standing in lines for hours to get tested. Labs have warned about problems: Quest Diagnostics, one of the biggest lab companies in the US, said wait times for test results are now averaging between four and six days for most people.
“Basically, two things are happening,” Ashish Jha, faculty director of the Harvard Global Health Institute (HGHI), told me. “One is the outbreaks are getting much bigger, so the amount of testing we need to get our arms around the outbreak is going up. And second, what we did [before] was some tweaking on capacity issues to get ourselves up to 500,000 to 600,000 tests a day, but didn’t fundamentally address the supply chain problems.”
He added, “This was supposed to be the job of the White House. … But they just never have prioritized really building up a robust testing infrastructure for the country.”
The problems have become more localized than in previous months. New York and Connecticut’s testing capacity seems to be holding up pretty well, largely because their Covid-19 outbreaks seem to be under control for now. States where epidemics are raging, such as Arizona, Florida, and Texas, are where testing problems seem to be spiraling.
As Bottoms’s story conveys, this is a big problem for getting the coronavirus outbreak under control: Testing is crucial for controlling disease outbreaks because they let officials and individuals see when further action, such as isolation and contact tracing, is necessary. But if testing is slow or insufficient, it can’t show people they’re infected and need to take action until it’s likely too late. That’s especially true with Covid-19 because people can have the virus and spread it without showing any symptoms.
“This is the same story we heard in the earlier days of the outbreak,” Jennifer Kates, vice president and director of the Global Health and HIV Policy Program at the Kaiser Family Foundation, told me. “But it’s much worse because everyone felt like the US was a little caught off guard at the beginning. … What we’re learning now is that none of the things that should’ve happened in the interim [during lockdowns] happened.”
So as America faces a surge of new coronavirus cases, the testing delays threaten to make the pandemic even worse.
America improved its testing capacity — to a point
America made huge improvements in Covid-19 testing capacity over the past few months, largely due to local, state, and private action as President Donald Trump’s administration delegated the issue downward and said the federal government would act merely as a “supplier of last resort.”
Nonetheless, the improvements were substantive and real. The US went from testing hundreds of people a day (at most) in late February and early March to consistently hitting 500,000 to 700,000 tests a day in June and now July.
The benchmark of 500,000 tests per day was particularly important, as it was the minimum experts had long called for in order to get the pandemic in the US under control.
But as the country neared that benchmark, attention to testing seemed to plummet. The Trump administration, which had already delegated testing down to lower levels of government and private actors, especially appeared to lose interest: The country’s “testing czar,” Brett Giroir, stood down and went back to his regular job at the Department of Health and Human Services. Trump falsely claimed in May that “America leads the world in testing”; at his Tulsa rally in June, he said he told his people to “slow the testing down” because the rising case count made him look bad. (He later asserted that his statement at the rally was not a joke, despite White House officials insisting it was.)
As all this happened, many of the underlying problems with testing capacity remained.
For one, there’s still a lot of variation between states. While most states, as of July 8, had 150 new tests per 100,000 people per day — the equivalent to 500,000 daily tests nationwide — 18 states still didn’t.
The state-by-state situation looks worse through another metric: the test positive rate, or the percentage of tests that come back positive. If a place tests widely enough, allowing it to catch even the people who show few symptoms but could still spread the virus, it should have a low positive rate — typically below 5 percent, though some experts now argue for less than 3 percent. A high positive rate indicates only people with obvious symptoms are getting tested, so there’s not quite enough testing to measure the scope of an outbreak.
As of July 8, most states in the US had a positive rate above 5 percent, suggesting their testing capacity isn’t keeping up with the scale of their outbreaks.
The consequence is delays in testing results as the demand for tests outmatches the supply. So people can’t get their test results quickly enough to act on a positive report, preventing tests from achieving the exact goal they’re supposed to accomplish.
Testing was always supposed to scale with larger outbreaks
The diversion between many states hitting 150 daily tests per 100,000 people and still having positive rates that are too high exposes another problem: The call for 500,000 tests a day nationwide was supposed to be only the minimum. Experts always warned that if the Covid-19 outbreak got much worse, there would likely need to be even more testing to keep up with the rise in new potential patients and cases.
“There’s the testing capacity you need to get to the place of opening up, then there’s the testing capacity you need to be open,” the Kaiser Family Foundation’s Kates said. “Once economies start to open again, people start moving and returning to the public sphere, and there are outbreaks. If there’s not enough testing, and testing hasn’t been built along with contact tracing, you’re going to have this explosion that we’re seeing, and the testing is not going to catch up with it.”
Jha, from the HGHI — which was one of the more vocal advocates for the threshold of 500,000 tests — said he worries something got lost in his communications to journalists and government officials.
At the same time, Jha and the other experts I spoke to were always clear, at least to me, that the 500,000 benchmark was a minimum. In fact, even before the current testing problems, Jha and the HGHI said the number was likely too low to keep up with the US epidemic and called instead for a minimum of 1 million daily tests.
“We were the ones who generated the 500,000-a-day number. We did it based on a particular size of the outbreak,” Jha said. “Clearly, things have gotten much worse since then.” He added, “We’re learning. We’re trying to figure out how to control the virus and where the country should go. And obviously in that we’re going to be updating data as it goes along.”
With the positive rate, it’s a similar story. Thomas Tsai, a health policy expert at Harvard, said the real goal for the positive rate is 0 percent — when the coronavirus is vanquished. So it’s important for states not to get complacent just because they’re now below an “acceptable” maximum of 3 percent or 5 percent. “The tests are a mean to an end,” Tsai said. The metrics “are just signposts along the way to give you directions.”
But as Covid-19 cases dropped and plateaued for the greater part of May and early June, much of the public and officials may have become complacent with the testing situation. They set their attention to other issues, such as the rise of new Black Lives Matter protests. Trump and the rest of the White House stopped focusing on the topic, halting daily press briefings about Covid-19, perhaps as officials realized that the president’s botched response to the crisis had made him look much worse. Meanwhile, there was a push, from Trump in particular, for states to reopen as quickly as possible to boost the economy.
Now it’s clear that problems with Covid-19 testing remain.
Earlier on, the hurdles with testing were linked to supply chain problems: not enough swabs to collect samples, vials to store them, or reagents and kits to run the tests. Over time, those problems were fixed or worked around.
The issue, experts say, is that these kinds of problems were always bound to come back as testing demand increased. Fixing a bottleneck for kits may let the country get to 500,000 tests a day, but that bottleneck can easily come back if, for instance, the nation needs 1 million per day and there are only enough kits for 700,000.
Jha pointed to basic economic concerns as a key problem. “If we decided to tomorrow, do we have the technological capacity to be able to get many millions of tests a day? Absolutely,” he said. But labs aren’t sure that making the massive investment for way more tests is financially sustainable, he explained, especially as Covid-19 outbreaks ebb and flow — and, as a result, occasionally deplete demand for those tests, as well as the number of people who need them.
Ideally, the federal government would be in charge of handling these problems. It’s the one entity that can go to labs across the country, see what the holdups are, then work along the global supply chain to see what can be done to address the issues. It has the funding ability to ensure labs and suppliers remain whole. And it can prioritize limited resources to specific cities, counties, or states that need them most, instead of leaving these supplies to a free-for-all.
This is, in fact, what the federal government does with other issues — such as when it ensures that a manufacturer has all the parts needed for an order of guns, tanks, or jets.
“The military has visibility into the entire supply chain, and the military oversees the entire supply chain,” Jha said. “It may be working with private companies, but the [Department of Defense] doesn’t leave this all up to chance.”
The Trump administration, however, has described the federal government as a “supplier of last resort.” That’s very different from the kind of proactive approach the feds take on other issues to get ahead of supply constraints.
So the problem is left to private actors as well as local and state governments, which often face legal, financial, and practical constraints that hinder their ability to move quickly. And the problem persists, even as Covid-19 cases continue to rise.
Testing always mattered and still matters
It’s been said a countless number of times in recent months, but it’s still true: Testing is key to stopping the Covid-19 pandemic.
When paired with contact tracing, testing lets officials track the scale of an outbreak, isolate the sick, quarantine those with whom the sick came in contact, and deploy community-wide efforts as necessary. Aggressive testing and tracing are how other countries, such as South Korea and Germany, got their outbreaks under control, letting them partly reopen their economies.
This testing problem is solvable in the US. “New York at its peak had people dying in the hallways of hospitals. Test positive rates were routinely above 20 percent,” Tsai said. “Look at it now, with a test positive rate of about 1 percent. In Massachusetts, our positive rate is about 2 percent now. These states show that concerted efforts … can not just mitigate the pandemic, not just flatten the curve, but also contain and suppress the pandemic.”
This only works, however, if officials can move quickly on a test, preferably within 24 to 36 hours. In the time it takes to confirm whether someone either has Covid-19 or came into contact with someone who has it, the person is more likely to continue their typical routine, potentially infecting others in the public or even within their own homes. In this context, every day and hour matters to get people to stop the spread of the coronavirus.
Testing and tracing can’t solve the pandemic all on their own. They have to be paired with precautions such as wearing masks and keeping 6 feet apart in public. In extreme cases, lockdowns can still be warranted if an outbreak is so out of control that a stay-at-home order becomes the only way to reel things back.
Lockdowns, however, were also supposed to buy the nation time to build up its testing system. As Natalie Dean, a biostatistics professor at the University of Florida, previously told me, “The whole point of this social distancing is to buy us time to build up capacity to do the types of public health interventions we know work. If we’re not using this time to scale up testing to the level that we need it to be … we don’t have an exit strategy. And then when we lift things, we’re no better equipped than we were before.”
It’s now clear that the US didn’t take full advantage of the time it bought with lockdowns. While testing did dramatically improve compared to the early days of the pandemic, it’s still not at a point where America can handle the higher demand brought on by another surge in coronavirus cases.
“It’s pathetic. This is not how a first-world country functions,” Jha said. “That people should not expect to access a test to an infectious disease many, many months into a pandemic — I find myself amazed that this is where we are as a country.”
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Covid-19 is upending our lives and forcing us to make complex decisions with little information and conflicting guidance from authorities. Summer, typically the season of staying up late and popsicles in the park, offers no escape. Many of us are already turning to the fall, and the fate of schools.
What will we do with our kids? Can we really send them back to school? If we keep them at home, will they forget how to read? If we send them to school, what might be the consequence? We are living a nightmare, but this is where we are. The choices are high-stakes and plagued by uncertainty. Even thinking about them makes me sweat.
I am the father of three girls ages 16, 13, and 10, and like every parent in America, I am worried about the fall.
I’m also an infectious disease doctor and epidemiologist, and have spent the past four months drinking from the fire hose of Covid-19 science, designing infection control policies for my hospital, and caring for patients on the front line. I serve on the reopening committee for my synagogue and for my school district. I consult for businesses as they reopen.
I have a first-row seat to the coronavirus pandemic, both as a parent and as a professional. In both of those roles, I hear the same questions, repeated with mounting urgency: “Are our kids going to be safe?” “Are our teachers going to be safe?” “Will kids bring Covid-19 home to our family?” “Will opening schools lead to a second wave and lockdown?” “What are the risks of not reopening?”
I have spent time reviewing the data and seeking answers to the challenging questions we face. Having the knowledge to make your own assessment, however, need not be a position of professional privilege. With this short primer, I hope you can add your voice to the debate and advocate for yourself, your family, and your community. The good news is, we can hope to send kids back to school in the fall, but there is a lot of work to do.
Are our kids going to be safe?
If any of us is ever going to send our kids to school again, we need a clear answer. Fortunately, I think we have one, at least for the children. Children are less likely than adults to be infected with Covid-19. There are multiple ways to study this question, and all the approaches arrive at this same conclusion.
First, when we look at public health reporting, children under the age of 18 make up only 2 percent of cases in the US, even though they represent 22 percent of the total population. Similar studies in Chicago and Massachusetts found that children make up fewer Covid-19 cases than expected, as have studies in Italy, South Korea, and Iceland. For me, that is a lot of similar results for this to be a fluke. When one study in one location produces a finding, it is notable. When five studies from five different settings find the same thing, it is compelling.
One reason case counts may be lower among kids than would be expected is that we did close our schools in March. Maybe we protected our kids by keeping them out of harm’s way. But if we send them back to school this fall, will they still enjoy protected status from the coronavirus?
One way to study this question is to estimate the “attack rate” of the disease — that is, the proportion of people exposed who become infected. Multiple studies from China investigated the attack rate among people living in a house with someone who is infected. They found that only about 4 to 5 percent of kids developed an active infection. In comparison, about 17 to 20 percent of adults became infected after exposure.
To be fair, data in the US is more concerning. In New York state, 57 percent of people living with a Covid-infected person developed an infection. It is hard to take reassurance from that fact. But even with such a high attack rate, children were still less likely to develop an infection and there was a gradient over ages, a sort of “dose effect” for age.
Finally, even in the worst-case scenario, in which a child does contract Covid-19, the outcomes of the disease are less severe in younger people than among older adults. In one analysis of more than 550 confirmed cases among children under age 18 in China, Italy, and Spain, only nine people (1.6 percent) had severe or critical disease. In another study, approximately 5 percent (one out of 20) developed symptoms that required hospitalization, but only 0.6 percent required intensive care. In comparison, a recent Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report indicates that among those ages 60 to 69 who have the coronavirus, 22 percent require hospitalization and 4 percent require intensive care.
Are teachers going to be safe?
There is far less data specifically on teachers and staff than on kids. One study in France is reassuring. In that investigation of 541 students and 46 teachers, there were no documented transmission events from students to teachers. However, while many of us immediately think of the risk to teachers from exposure in the classroom, we may not consider the additional risk that teachers face in break rooms and staff meetings.
Working in the hospital, I have personally seen that staff have a difficult time maintaining personal protection at all times. Doctors and nurses tend to let down their guard when they are away from patients and during breaks. Masks come down, people eat snacks in potentially unsafe spaces, and social distancing lessens.
The same will likely be true in schools. The potential risk to teachers, therefore, goes beyond the classroom. Staff risk in schools likely looks similar to the risk of any adult working in a crowded indoor environment during the pandemic. School opening plans must consider teacher safety in addition to the well-being of students.
Will my kids bring Covid-19 home to our family?
For most parents, the next question after the safety of their kids will be their own safety and that of loved ones in the house. Even if the kids are all right, could they bring the coronavirus home?
Here, again, the data appears reassuring. One large review of over 700 scientific publications found that children accounted for only a small fraction of Covid-19 cases, and that they were rarely the first case in a cluster of infections in a household. For example, in China, only 5 percent of household clusters were found to have a child as the index case. Similarly, in Switzerland and Holland, children accounted for only 8 percent of household transmission clusters.
Unfortunately, the US numbers make me a little less certain. In a Chicago study of 15 households with available data, 73 percent of infected children contracted the virus from an adult. However, that means that 27 percent of infections were child-to-child, which is substantially more than 5 to 8 percent.
Still, the Chicago study only examined 15 households, and adult-to-child transmission remained far more common than child-to-child or child-to-adult.
Will someone in America contract Covid-19 from their sick child? Yes. Should I structure my life around such a rare occurrence? I do not think so.
Will opening schools lead to a second wave and more lockdowns?
We have reached the most challenging question to answer and one that is a holy grail for Covid-19 epidemiologists. I want to give you the plain answer here — we do not know.
An objective summary of the evidence in hand suggests that schools will play little role in sustaining the pandemic. A recent review of 210 transmission clusters around the world found that only eight of them (3.8 percent) involved school transmission. Case studies of outbreak investigations in Ireland, France, and Australia demonstrate almost zero cases of in-school transmission.
Modeling studies demonstrate no clear role of in-school transmission in explaining current Covid-19 epidemiology. All of this data tells us that despite our gut instincts and parental anxiety, schools will likely be okay this fall.
But the story does not end there. First, there are examples of in-school outbreaks that did force a second shutdown. Israel is an example.
Israel reopened schools with limited class sizes in early May and lifted class size restrictions on May 17. By June 3, they had to reclose after a major outbreak. The largest outbreak was 116 students and 14 teachers at one school. Per NPR, one child tested positive without symptoms and the school decided to quarantine the grade. Next, a child in a different grade tested positive and they closed the school.
At that time, they discovered that they already had more than 100 cases. It is not certain that all of those children were infected in the school, but the story is concerning and it raises the bar on monitoring our schools.
The data that’s available is mixed. If a person (or school district) wants to tell you that schools play little role in transmission, then ask them how their district is different from Israel’s. Why can an outbreak happen in that setting but not yours? Perhaps there is a reason, but until someone can give you a good one, be skeptical.
What are the risks of not reopening?
A discussion of school closures that focuses only on Covid-19 and not at all on education is incomplete. There are real risks to keeping our children at home. In fact, the risks of staying home are in many ways clearer than the risks of returning to school.
One study using statistical models projects major losses in math performance if we continue with remote learning until 2021. Perhaps more compelling than statistics, however, is some simple common sense.
On any given day, it is hard to point to the loss of learning from home. At the same time, we all agree that education is essential. If we keep our kids home for another school year, they will have missed 12 percent of their total education. I cannot identify the specific losses from that much absence, but I am confident there is a cost to missing that much school. For perspective, missing 12 percent of school time is the same as missing 22 days of school in a single year.
Further, the losses will not be equal. The “Covid-19 slide” will likely be greatest among the socially vulnerable, such as children with learning disabilities and those whose situation at home is not conducive to homeschooling.
We must also acknowledge that the losses will hit people of color much harder than those who are white. Further, school officials account for approximately 20 percent of formal reports of child abuse and domestic violence. Without school-based counselors and social workers, these concerns may not be investigated.
All of these harms weighed on the American Academy of Pediatrics’ guidance that school reopening plans start with the goal of having students be physically present in schools.
What should we do?
A great mentor of mine, Milton Weinstein at Harvard, is generally credited as being the person who introduced the field of medicine to the concept of rigorous decision-science. The central question to all decision-science is: “What should we do, given that we have imperfect information?”
Milt is fond of the expression “a decision has to be made.” His wisdom has never been more pertinent than it is today. We have to make a decision. There is no choice to do nothing, because either way — go to school or learn remotely — we are making a decision.
Unfortunately for all of us, we are making a decision with significant uncertainty about all the risks involved. Fortunately, this is not the first time that people have been forced to make decisions with uncertainty. There are approaches to making uncertain decisions in a way that maximizes the chances of a good outcome and minimizes the harm if the outcome is poor.
You’ve likely heard of one of them: hedging your bets. When multibillion-dollar investment funds make a choice to invest, they recognize that they could be wrong. They do not make all-in versus out decisions. Instead, they hedge their bets. They may think that the newest beach toy is destined for greatness, but just in case of a rainy summer, they also invest in umbrellas.
When I look across all the data, I see an uncertain decision. First, I propose that the balance of data we have now suggests that we need to try to open schools in the fall. The risks of reopening are uncertain; the harm of staying home is clear.
If your school district cites the data above to you that “schools are safe,” ask your school board: What is the plan beyond reopening? What if we are wrong? How will your district know that things are going well (or not well)? Don’t let the conversation stop at “data suggests that schools are safe.” Don’t let the plan stop with “symptomatic people should call their doctor.”
If we are going to open safely in the fall, we must have the capacity to know — quickly — when an outbreak occurs. Israel is an important cautionary tale. When Israel closed down its schools again, it had only identified two school-based cases, yet in the end it discovered that more than 100 students had been infected.
To do this well, and to do it safely, we must have school-based Covid-19 symptom screening, testing, contact tracing, and isolation. “School-based testing” does not mean that the test themselves must occur in school buildings. “School-based testing” means that students and teachers can easily access a test by contacting the school, and that the results of those tests are sent directly to the school district in real time.
That seems straightforward, but it is not. The community does not yet have adequate testing, contact tracing, or isolation. Schools currently have nothing.
It requires building new capacity in schools for testing and contact tracing. It requires a budget. It requires a formal plan. Ideally, that budget should come from the federal government and be directed to states and ultimately school districts, as part of a national Covid-19 testing strategy. Realistically, given the lack of any such national plan, the funds need to come from individual states.
Building such infrastructure comes at a cost and many districts are already facing budget shortfalls. Districts that rely only on their existing testing infrastructure will not have the real-time information they need to make good decisions. Imagine a child has a fever and cough in October and is told by the school to call the doctor for a Covid-19 test. Results are typically returned in two days to the doctor’s office. After another day (or two), the data might make it to the school district. So it will take at least four to five days for the district to have any information.
We need testing within the school system to shorten the delay at every step of the process and reduce the turnaround time for the test to only a day. With that kind of time resolution, we can increase awareness of the situation at our schools, along with the ability to react appropriately. Without it, we are flying blind and gambling with the health of our children, teachers, and community.
Ultimately, when I look at the decision about school as both a father and a scientist, I see a difficult decision that must be made despite uncertainty. The risks of opening are uncertain, but the benefits are clear. We need to try to reopen.
We have been wrong before about Covid-19. In March, the epidemiology world was quite confident that transmission could not occur before a person develops symptoms. Three months later, there is consensus that asymptomatic people were likely one of the main drivers of the pandemic. In March, the CDC and the US surgeon general told the public that masks play no role in controlling the spread of the disease. Now we see masks as a central component of our reopening strategies.
We could be wrong about schools, but we cannot afford to wait to find out for certain. We need school-based Covid-19 symptom screening, testing, contact tracing, and isolation. Opening without a plan to test is irresponsible and a gamble with our children’s health.
Benjamin P. Linas is an associate professor of epidemiology and an infectious disease physician at Boston University School of Medicine. Find him on Twitter @BenjaminLinas.
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Nuclear power has long been a divisive issue in the environmental community. The enormous momentum of anti-nuclear sentiment from the ’70s and ’80s has clashed in recent years with a new wave of advocates who claim that deep decarbonization — eliminating the greenhouse gases that drive climate change — requires the assistance of nuclear power.
The embrace of nuclear in climate and progressive circles has been hampered by two factors. First, nuclear has traditionally been a huge and highly hierarchical industry, peddling enormous plants that cost billions of dollars and produce dangerous waste, with a history of special pleading and corruption — not the kind of industry progressives naturally lean toward.
Second, nuclear advocates have traditionally been, well, men. And not just any men, but the kind of men highly prone to mansplaining why they are rational and you are an over-emotional hysteric. (“Nuclear bros,” in the online argot.) There is a cohort of nuclear advocates who seem to have chosen the issue mainly as a pretext for bashing environmentalists. Insofar as they’ve attempted outreach to climate advocates, the nuclear bros have met limited success.
This has caused quite a bit of angst among the small but growing number of progressives who have turned to nuclear advocacy out of progressivism — out of a concern over climate change and its impacts on the most vulnerable.
Those activists see opportunities in the new generation of nuclear plants, which are smaller, cheaper, and safer than their predecessors, more congruent with the general movement toward distributed energy, microgrids, and community ownership.
But they have struggled to change the tenor of the conversation because they are scattered and lack institutional backing.
Now they are launching a group of their own: the Good Energy Collective, which will develop and advance progressive nuclear policy.
Four of the five board members are women, as are the co-founders: Suzy Hobbs Baker (currently creative director at University of Michigan’s Fastest Path to Zero initiative) and Jessica Lovering (currently a doctoral student in engineering and public policy at Carnegie Mellon University).
I called Baker and Lovering on July 15 to chat about the new group, the values that distinguish it from other groups in the nuclear space, and the prospects for advanced nuclear plants to play a role in the climate fight.
Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
David Roberts
How did this organization come about?
Suzy Hobbs Baker
We saw a gap in the ecosystem — there was no place to do progressive nuclear policy. It just didn’t exist. And nobody was trying to build it.
David Roberts
What do you mean by progressive nuclear policy, as distinct from what other NGOs are doing?
Suzy Hobbs Baker
There are a bunch of policy shops in DC that do great nuclear work. Most of it has been focused on R&D. Under the auspices of innovation, there’s been a huge emphasis on a fundamentally technical issue: We have to figure out how to design and build reactors again.
Jessica Lovering
There are lots of moderates working on [nuclear], and lots of bipartisan efforts.
Suzy Hobbs Baker
Right. But just at the moment the climate movement was taking off, it became clear there wasn’t a progressive [nuclear] contingent, figuring out how to join forces with and work within the climate movement.
David Roberts
So you decided to make one.
Suzy Hobbs Baker
Yeah! We took stock: Who are the progressives in the nuclear sphere? Oh, there’s like five of us. So it wasn’t that hard to get everybody on the phone and ask, “Do you want to do this?”
David Roberts
Is there no progressive nuclear work going on in bigger environmental or climate groups?
Jessica Lovering
There’s nothing nuclear going on. Some of these orgs, they will acknowledge that nuclear needs to be part of the mix. There’s been some consensus around keeping existing plants open. And that’s great — that’s way different than it was five or 10 years ago. But no one’s really working on the policy.
You can see this in the Biden-Sanders Unity Task Force recommendations on climate. They mentioned advanced nuclear, which is amazing, but it’s kind of like … “and also, advanced nuclear needs to be in there.”
There’s a lot of work that needs to be done to actually make that a reality. That’s what we want to focus on.
Suzy Hobbs Baker
It’s different from a lot of the larger orgs, who might have a “nuclear person” who tracks the issue. There aren’t places in the environmental space that have deep expertise on nuclear.
Jessica Lovering
Another thing that’s different — and really couches us in the progressive movement and not in the energy think tank space — is that we are focused on community-level engagement. We want to develop tools and processes to help communities figure out what they want for their low-carbon energy future.
And we want a process where they can decide they don’t want nuclear. That’s fine. We’re not going around trying to sell advanced nuclear. We want equitable processes that people feel are fair and transparent so they can make their own choices.
I think that fits much better with the environmental-justice agenda inside these climate platforms, more so than the R&D/technology side, which a lot of other think tanks are focusing on. R&D still needs a lot of work, and we’re going to be plugged into that, but our focus is going to be more on social science.
Suzy Hobbs Baker
While a lot of think tanks are thinking about deployment, we’re thinking about the other side of the equation, which is adoption. There are folks in DC and private companies trying to figure out how to get the technologies out, and simultaneously there are communities across the nation trying to figure out how to reach their climate goals. We want to transition to working with more focus on the communities.
David Roberts
The nuclear space is notoriously dominated by a certain kind of male voice — left-brained, not particularly emotionally intelligent — and it has often posed a communications challenge for the industry. It’s notable that you’re a female-led organization, but is that tone something you think consciously about changing?
Jessica Lovering
I gave a talk on this topic in November at the [International Atomic Energy Agency conference], about risk perception around nuclear. It’s a talk the nuclear industry asks for all the time: Why do people think nuclear is so risky? And how do we fix that with, I don’t know, better PR?
The talk I gave, which made a lot of people uncomfortable, was about a phenomenon called the white male effect. It’s not unique to nuclear. Across a whole bunch of risks — car crashes, alcoholism, all sorts of things — white males rate things as much less risky than everyone else, even males of color.
A lot of studies look into the drivers of this, but one thing that really struck us is an explanation that comes down to differences in worldview. White males tend to be more hierarchical and individualistic in their worldview, on average, whereas women and people of color tend to be a more communitarian and egalitarian.
One thing that is unique about nuclear, the way it’s been done in the past, the way the industry has been run, is that it has been very hierarchical, very top-down, very arguments-from-authority. And even fancy new nuclear technologies that are safer and cheaper don’t fundamentally change that aspect.
You can’t fix that with better communications. You can’t fix that with a slogan. You need to change how the industry runs.
Can you make nuclear appeal more to communitarians and egalitarians? I think you can, but it’s going to look very different. And that’s where we, who have strong progressive values, consider ourselves part of the left. We need to change the industry from the ground up.
So that comes back to your question about a women-led organization. There have been a lot of efforts in the past to find women who work in nuclear and prop them up as a spokesperson. “Okay, we have a woman talking about nuclear, this is going to change people’s minds.” It doesn’t, because it’s still the same industry and the same business model.
It’s because we have progressive ideals that it tends to be women leading this effort. We don’t just want policies that appeal more to women and progressives, we want to build up a younger generation of diverse leadership that allows people to live their values while working in nuclear, helping to build the case for nuclear in the broader climate change agenda — but really empower them, not just as props.
Suzy Hobbs Baker
It’s not an exaggeration to say that we had to build the organization we needed to move forward in our own careers. In order to move forward into leadership and have a healthy work environment, a new third space — we’re going to have to build it.
David Roberts
Where do you want to focus your policy work?
Suzy Hobbs Baker
We’ve seen this huge shift, with the growth of renewable energy sources in the last 15 years, of much more participatory decision-making in communities around the question of energy. We see where this is going. And a lot of the developers of these new [nuclear] technologies see where it’s going.
But it’s one thing to say we’re committed to a community-based approach, and a whole other thing to build the policy agenda and the infrastructure.
Jessica Lovering
There’s a big movement toward community ownership and community lead on energy projects, with distributed generation and microgrids, and there’s an assumption that nuclear can’t be a part of that because of the scale. But moving toward much smaller nuclear and factory-fabricated nuclear opens up those markets.
The industry just has no idea how to do that, how to approach small towns to see if they’re interested in nuclear. They’re used to dealing with big investor-owned utilities. So we need to develop those processes. How do you do have a community-ownership model or municipality model [for nuclear]? That’s really exciting to me.
David Roberts
Are these new plants ready?
Jessica Lovering
Almost.
Suzy Hobbs Baker
This year, the Department of Energy, mandated by Congress, stood up a new program called the Advanced Reactor Demonstration Program. They have the slightly bananas mandate to construct two [advanced nuclear] demonstrations in the next seven years, and then support a whole host of other demonstrations over the next five to 10 years. There are folks preparing sites for potential demonstration units.
This is a big piece of my research at Michigan: how we demonstrate best practices for community engagement at the demonstration phase with these new reactors so that it’s baked into the way that everybody’s doing business. We’ve been thinking a lot about the lack of institutions, the lack of training and professionals to help make this happen.
Jessica Lovering
It’s no longer paper reactors that’ll be ready in 20 years. Nuscale submitted their license application two years ago. [Editor’s note: Nuscale submitted its design certification application, which is short of a full license application.] Oklo submitted in December. Oklo is only 1.5 megawatts for the off-grid market, so they’re hoping to get licensed in two years. They can start planning their supply chains and their first build in the meantime. They could start construction in the early 2020s.
We need to get the rest of the supporting infrastructure ready to go before then — not on the construction/engineering side, but in terms of community engagement and everything that goes along with it.
David Roberts
Is there a short way to explain the different kinds of advanced nuclear?
Jessica Lovering
When we say advanced nuclear, there are two big categories.
There are small modular reactors, which are water-cooled like traditional nuclear but manufactured a more standardized way and much smaller. That’s a more gradual improvement.
The other big category is non-light-water reactors that don’t use water as a coolant. There are salt-cooled, called molten-salt reactors; there are gas-cooled, often referred to as high-temperature gas-cooled reactors (the gas is usually helium or CO2); and there are fast reactors, usually metal-cooled with sodium or lead. Those are less common, but there are some groups working on them. They can be really tiny.
David Roberts
Which are the ones that might actually be built soon?
Jessica Lovering
Nuscale is a small-modular light-water reactor of 50 megawatts, and Oklo is a micro-reactor, a sodium-cooled fast reactor — very different than what we operate today, and also very small. [Editor’s note: technically, Oklo’s “Aurora” mini-reactor is a fast reactor cooled by heat pipes, not sodium.] The whole power plant fits in about two shipping containers. It’s 1.5 megawatts, which is less than a standard wind turbine today.
David Roberts
Are the new designs meltdown-proof?
Jessica Lovering
Nuscale is water-cooled, more similar to traditional nuclear. It has a lot of passive safety features, but I wouldn’t say it’s meltdown-proof. For the other ones, the salt- or sodium-cooled plants, they really are meltdown-proof. You could never get temperatures hot enough to melt the fuels. And the fuels are much more heat resistant.
David Roberts
I’m sure communities also ask about the waste.
Jessica Lovering
The fuel and the waste are dependent on which reactor you’re looking at, but all of them use fuel more efficiently, so they make less waste.
With Oklo, the fuel stays in the reactor for up to 20 years. They don’t have a lot of material in there, you’re not doing a lot of refueling, and the waste isn’t handled on-site. The whole reactor is sent back to a central facility. It’s like getting a battery — you’re getting the reactor shipped to you with the fuel inside, and you send it back with the fuel inside. That’s nice for a lot of communities that don’t want to deal with handling or storing waste.
Some advanced nuclear designs also use recycled fuel. You can recycle or reprocess existing nuclear waste to turn it into fuel, which is great because it’s already available. France recycles all their fuel; they use all their fuel twice, whereas in the US, we use our fuel once.
Other than that, we still need to come up with a solution for what to do with spent nuclear fuel. France stores their waste in pods underground.
Suzy Hobbs Baker
Beautiful, super-high-tech facilities where they store high-level nuclear waste. You can go visit. They’re just these big canisters, and you put them in a big room. It’s a lot less scary than it seems.
Jessica Lovering
Another story of American exceptionalism is that we’ve just never gotten our shit together on nuclear waste. It’s not a technological issue, it’s a political issue.
Suzy Hobbs Baker
One of the policy areas we’re interested in revisiting is the Nuclear Waste Policy Act, which has not succeeded in any way, at all. We’re going to have to come up with better policy solutions to help unstick these issues. You can’t ask a bunch of communities to stand up new reactors and have no solution for where waste is going. At this point, it’s not a winning proposition.
David Roberts
Where do we store the waste now?
Jessica Lovering
Right now, we just store it on the power plant sites, in dry casks. It’s fine. But the communities did not agree to be storing that waste there. That’s a big issue. They may have been okay with hosting a nuclear power plant, but the plan was always for the Department of Energy to take that waste and put it somewhere. It’s just sitting on these 67 sites around the country.
David Roberts
What are your hopes for progressive nuclear policy?
Suzy Hobbs Baker
It feels to us like the door is open for advanced nuclear to get on board with the climate movement and to grapple seriously with issues of social and environmental justice, because [nuclear has], second to fossil fuels, one of the worst histories with those issues. In contrast to the savior complex a lot of the sector has, I think we have an enormous amount to learn by joining forces with the broader climate movement.
Currently, there isn’t a deep knowledge of nuclear technology and nuclear issues among progressives. I think we can bring value to the space. We really do want to solve climate change and to do so in a way that supports communities. Ultimately, it’s a commitment to do the work.
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Many schools across the US gambled on offering in-person classes in early August, even as their states were still battling uncontrolled spread of Covid-19.
In some of those schools, it hasn’t gone well.
In Georgia’s Cherokee County School District, for example, there have been at least 80 positive cases since August 3, and more than 1,100 students, teachers, and staff have had to quarantine. At the high school in Paulding County School District, which came to national attention after photos of halls crowded with mostly maskless students went viral, several students and staff have tested positive, forcing the school to adopt a hybrid model of in-person and virtual learning. In Atlanta, one second-grader tested positive the day after classes started; the same week, a 7-year-old with no underlying conditions died from the virus.
Scientists have found clear evidence that children, especially those over 12, can and do transmit the virus, though the disease is generally more mild than in adults. This means school outbreaks can be a risk for students, teachers, and the wider community.
While many school districts that reopened are reporting infected students, these initial cases may not have originated in the classroom. “For most of these cases in Georgia, schools weren’t open long enough for the transmission to be coming from within the schools,” says Megan Ranney, an emergency physician and the director for the Center for Digital Health at Brown University, who researches pediatric mental health.
Nevertheless, infected students and staff arriving in the first week of school have already prompted shutdowns and quarantines around the country; in Mississippi, over half of counties have reported Covid-19 cases in teachers, staff, or students.
What’s remarkable is that health experts predicted that cases among young people would surge if schools reopened before community transmission was under control — yet many school districts went ahead anyway. “This is exactly what we’ve been warning about — when you have high levels of Covid in the community, you will have cases showing up in schools, just because people are catching it out in the community,” says Ranney.
And it’s not just kids, teachers, and parents who are then at risk — school outbreaks can fan wider outbreaks in communities. A recent superspreading event in Ohio, for example, found that children between ages 6 and 16 were part of the chain of transmission, passing the virus on to other children and adults.
The World Health Organization recommends that schools open only if fewer than five percent of those tested for the virus over a two-week period are positive. In the US, the cutoff for what is considered “safe” for reopening schools currently varies by state, but they all tend to look at similar factors: Oregon, for example, has said counties must have fewer than 10 cases per 100,000 people for three weeks before in-person classes resume. Arizona calls for less than 100 cases per 100,000, or a two-week decline in cases, as well as meeting other standards like hospital capacity.
For comparison, Georgia has had 189 cases per 100,000 people in the last seven days as of August 16. (You can check your own state’s rates at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention here.) In Georgia, many schools also reopened despite high positivity rates — the percentage of people being tested for Covid-19 who have a positive result. Georgia’s number of positive tests per 100,000 people were also well above the general threshold that public health experts recommend for in-person activities.
A recent study from the American Academy of Pediatrics and the Children’s Hospital Association found that 97,000 children in the US got Covid-19 in the last two weeks of July— representing a 40 percent increase, or almost one-third of the total number of pediatric cases since the pandemic began. It’s unclear whether this is an increase in actual infections or if more children, who are often asymptomatic, are now being tested as schools reopen.
Since testing overall is still inadequate to control the virus in the US, the CDC says the true incidence of Covid-19 in children is still unknown. But as Tom Frieden, former director of the CDC, recently tweeted, kids between 5 and 17 now have the highest positivity rate of all age groups. “Age groups aren’t an island,” he wrote. “Spread in any group is a risk to all.”
The US Department of Education is not publicly tracking Covid-19 cases in K-12 schools, numbers of students quarantined, deaths, or school closures. That led a Kansas teacher to create a crowdsourced Google spreadsheet using media reports to track positive cases of Covid-19 associated with schools in over 40 states. It shows that more than 2,000 students, faculty, administrators, and staff have tested positive for Covid-19 nationwide since early July, and that teachers have already died in Mississippi, Alabama, and California.
Public health experts at the University of Texas at Austin recently published a report analyzing the likelihood that students and teachers would arrive on the first day of school already infected. They found it largely depends on the size of the school and how prevalent Covid-19 is in that school’s community. Based on data from mid-July, their model suggests that in Texas, a school of 100 individuals in Denton County could expect one to two Covid-19 cases in the first week, while higher rates in Harris County likely make up four cases.
Hidalgo County, which currently has a 17 percent positive test rate, looks worse yet, with two to eight cases predicted. (Racial and economic disparities contribute to these differences; Hidalgo County is 90 percent Latinx and has seen a disproportionate number of Covid-19 cases.) These numbers are constantly changing, but they show that with high-enough levels of community transmission, you can pretty much guarantee that at least one person will go to school infected, potentially exposing others.
In other countries where data on school-linked outbreaks is more readily available, the impacts of reopening schools have been mixed. In Denmark, reopening schools for 2- to 12-year-olds didn’t make the country’s already minimal outbreak worse. But many precautions were taken to limit transmission.
Denmark reopened elementary schools with extensive safety measures in place, like staggered entry time. Students were placed in small groups to reduce interaction, and hotels and libraries were utilized as additional class space. Even so, the rate of infection increased after Danish schools reopened, although not enough to keep total cases from declining.
In Israel, new cases have skyrocketed since schools reopened two months ago, but the country also lifted other distancing measures at the same time, making it harder to tease apart the causes. There are many factors that can make reopening schools safer, like mask-wearing, social distancing, and regular testing, so it’s difficult to directly compare different countries’ school plans.
Still, there’s a definite trend: Countries like Vietnam and New Zealand, which have generally done a good job controlling spread, have successfully reopened schools. Others, with higher community transmission, like Chile, have struggled.
With a new disease, it’s important to look at the totality of the emerging body of research on different age groups, rather than individual study results. For example, a widely cited South Korean study initially reported in July found that adolescents might spread the virus more than adults; an update from the same researchers this week found that some of the teens’ purported transmission was likely due to families actually sharing outside exposure.
Overall, the sum of evidence — including independent studies from the US, Iceland, and Germany — finds older children may be as likely to spread the virus as adults when infected. A recent literature review found that “opening secondary/high schools is likely to contribute to the spread of SARS-CoV-2.” (The same review found that children under age 10 may be less susceptible to infection.)
Another review published in The Lancet highlights that adequate testing and contact tracing are essential to reopening schools. That’s not possible currently in many US states, which are still seeing positivity rates as high as 23 percent, along with extreme delays in test results.
Chethan Sathya, a pediatric surgeon and assistant professor of surgery at the Cohen Children’s Medical Center in New York, says that people seem to be missing the point that having an incomplete picture of how Covid-19 impacts kids is not license to send them back to school to find out. Ranney points out that some states, like New York and her home state of Rhode Island, currently have low test positivity, and so it may be safer to reopen schools in those areas. ”The only possible road to reopening schools is with low rates of community transmission,” she says.
“Emerging data suggests that it’s unsafe to send children and teachers into school buildings, even with safety protocols, if the prevalence of cases in the community is too high,” she says. If schools choose to reopen anyway, she adds, “it’s an ongoing experiment on children and staff.”
Correction: An earlier version of this story stated that Georgia had 2,236 cases per 100,000 people in the last seven days as of August 16. In fact, it has had 2.236 cumulative cases per 100,000 people and 189 cases per 100,000 in the last seven days.
Lois Parshley is a freelance investigative journalist. Follow her Covid-19 reporting on Twitter @loisparshley.
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Part of the Escape Issue of The Highlight, our home for ambitious stories that explain our world.
Phil Nichols doesn’t get a lot of unannounced visitors at the long-term sober-living house in Cincinnati where he lives. The two US marshals waiting at the door on a March afternoon in 2018 told Nichols they had information for him. And questions. They wore plainclothes —and smiles — and assured Nichols that he wasn’t in trouble.
He invited them in.
It was all very cordial, very polite, very Midwestern. It was early afternoon, the equivalent of morning for Nichols, who doesn’t wake before noon. Although he was surprised by the visit, Nichols didn’t seem unsettled by it. Then the marshals mentioned an address: 1823 Center Street.
Nichols recognized it immediately. It was his grandmother’s address in New Albany, Indiana. That was where his father was raised, and where Nichols spent time as a child.
It was also the address that Joseph Newton Chandler III, a mysterious dead man that the marshals were investigating, had listed on a rental application in Mentor, Ohio. Only Chandler had listed the city as Columbus, and the resident as Mary R. Wilson, his sister.
Neither the woman nor the address existed — at least not in Columbus.
The marshals then showed Nichols pictures of Chandler and asked whether Nichols recognized the man in the photos.
He did.
In one photo, the man is caught unaware. He wears a wide-brimmed hat and pinstripe suit and stands in front of a cluster of balloons.
“That’s my father,” Nichols said. Except the man in the photo wasn’t Joseph Chandler, he told them. He was Robert Ivan Nichols.
The last time Phil Nichols had seen his father was in the early 1960s. He heard from him once after that, when the elder Nichols sent his teenage son a letter. Inside was a single penny.
That was in 1965. The family reported Robert Nichols missing the same year. They never heard from him again.
Phil thought he also might never find out what happened to his father. Then, more than 50 years later, the marshals turned up at his door and told him a story about a dead boy, a stolen identity, a mysterious man, a suicide — and his father.
In 2002, 76-year-old Joseph Newton Chandler III had been found dead by suicide in his efficiency apartment near Cleveland, Ohio. He had $82,000 in the bank, says US Marshal Pete Elliott, one of the authorities at Phil Nichols’s door that day. In the absence of a will, law enforcement set out to find Chandler’s next of kin. That’s when they discovered the real Chandler had died in 1945 in a traffic accident in Texas on Christmas Day as he and his parents headed to his grandparents’ house in a car loaded with gifts.
Chandler was 8 when he died. Who the Cleveland man was was anyone’s guess.
In 2014, the marshals began comparing the case to unsolved fugitive cases from the 1960s and ’70s. The name change alone was enough for Elliott to suspect the mystery man had committed crimes in addition to identity theft.
“If he’s running away just from his family, typically when we see that, they don’t go to the extent that Joseph Newton — sorry, Robert Nichols — did,” Elliott said in a phone interview.
The dead man in Cleveland had somehow been using Chandler’s identity since 1978. Aside from the familiar street address, which investigators say is not uncommon among impostors, the elder Nichols had done everything he could to erase himself.
Yet there were clues hinting at a darker past, or at least that’s what Elliott believes. Former coworkers in northeast Ohio where the man who went by Joseph Chandler worked on a contract basis as a draftsman and electrical engineer described him as highly intelligent and a loner. They said he kept a suitcase packed and ready to go and would disappear, only to return to work months later. Before he left, he would tell them, “They’re getting close.”
Earlier, in Kentucky and Indiana, when he was still Robert Nichols, he also spoke in code. He told his wife, “I’m leaving you, and one day you’ll know why,” says Elliott. Suspecting something sinister, Elliott dug up cold cases in the area. Nothing matched. The same was true of other cold cases he tried to connect to Nichols. He couldn’t find any evidence, possibly because Nichols knew how to hide it.
“He didn’t want to be found,” says Elliott. “Dead or alive.”
Using genetic genealogy and GEDmatch — the same site used to identify the Golden State Killer in 2018 — the California nonprofit DNA Doe Project finally solved the Nichols mystery. Law enforcement relies on DNA databases that look at only around 20 markers in the genome. The results from databases that get uploaded to GEDmatch (which accepts data from all the various companies creating genetic profiles, such as 23andMe and AncestryDNA) test for 600,000 markers. It’s the difference between being able to identify only siblings and parents and identifying even distant cousins. Genealogists can use the information to build family trees, which is how DNA Doe Project co-founders Colleen Fitzpatrick and Margaret Press located Phil Nichols.
The story made headlines for its oddness. Because Nichols had spent time in California, there were theories he could have been the Zodiac Killer. On Reddit, which is teeming with amateur genealogical and true crime forums, the case attracted the attention of web sleuths. Yet despite its intrigue, it was only one of dozens of cold cases in the past two years that have been solved by combining family tree genealogy with DNA database searches.
DNA Doe Project alone has solved many of them, including that of Lavender Doe, a young woman whose charred body was discovered in Kilgore, Texas, in 2006. Investigators noted her perfect teeth and the purple shirt she was wearing when she was found, earning her the nickname Lavender Doe. The project was able to give her back her real name, Dana Lynn Dodd. It also was able to name Buckskin Girl, a young woman whose body was discovered in Troy, Ohio, in 1981 dressed in a deerskin poncho over jeans and a sweater. That woman was Marcia L. King. She was from Arkansas and was 21 when she was killed.
But similar techniques are also being used to help families find members they never knew they had, unearthing secrets of illegitimacy, suicide, and ethnic background.
Now the historical narrative for families and society at large can no longer be shaped by the destruction of documents and the selective telling of stories, Matthew Stallard and Manchester historian Jerome de Groot wrote in the Journal of Family History in March. And finding those who don’t want to be found, like Robert Ivan Nichols, can also be devastating, as painful secrets once thought irretrievable are exposed. Which has ethicists and genealogists wondering: Who exactly has the right to tell our ancestors’ stories, and who has the right to simply disappear?
Genealogy, or the exploring of family history, was once done by lovely, generous, and cooperative people, says de Groot. But it was a bit dry.
Now, archival genetic material is no longer kept in public institutions with historians; it’s in the hands of private organizations aggregating DNA for their customers. The largest of the databases, AncestryDNA, has the genetic material of 20 million people, says de Groot. He estimates that 23andMe has about 10 million people.
“If you add all the big databases together, you would get 50 to 60 million people,” he says. “By extrapolation, you could probably get the entire world.”
That huge amount of data is now being used to build out family trees and solve mysteries, of both the familial and forensic sort. The internet has only added to the genealogists’ role, enabling them to interact and crowdsource in ways they never could before. On sites like Reddit, they work with more general sleuths to solve mysteries.
“You can basically just put people together and match and not really deal with the consequences,” says de Groot.
The Golden State Killer case marked a huge pivot from using the databases for educational or informational purposes to using them to solve crimes, says Benjamin Berkman, a faculty member in the National Institutes of Health Department of Bioethics with a joint appointment in the National Human Genome Research Institute. But their use has only recently begun to raise ethical questions.
“There’s been a long, robust history of thinking about the ethics of genetics in a medical context, but as these new technologies developed, there hasn’t always been, at least at the outset, the same sort of attention,” says Berkman.
But there are ethical dilemmas to consider, such as the tendency of people to not want to know unpleasant things.
“Knowing that your parent had committed a crime a long time ago, for example, would be traumatic for a lot of people,” says Berkman. “So you are imposing a burden on people by digging around and uncovering stuff that they want to keep hidden.”
Indiana veterinarian turned genealogist Michael Lacopo recently wrote a cautionary chapter about uncovering family secrets in the 2019 book Advanced Genetic Genealogy: Techniques and Case Studies. While Lacopo appreciates the thrill of solving a genealogical puzzle, he also worries about the ramifications.
“I think you lose track of the trail you leave behind you and the ripple effect you have in front of you,” he says.
Fake names, as in the case of Robert Nichols, can be even more troubling. If a person has committed a crime and is fleeing it, that is one thing. But if they are innocent and possibly fleeing an unsafe situation, Berkman says he believes that they “would have a right to not have their past dredged up.”
In the Nichols case, police were looking for relatives of the man they knew only as Joseph Newton Chandler III when they learned he hadn’t taken the name until 1978, the same year he started working in northeast Ohio. Fingerprints were unattainable, and the dead man seemed to have no friends or family. They did have a tissue sample from an earlier hospitalization, and the mystery man’s DNA profile was uploaded to national databases. When nothing turned up, law enforcement in 2016 contacted Colleen Fitzpatrick, half of the two-person forensic genealogy consulting company IdentiFinders International. She tracked down one match, but it ultimately led her nowhere.
It was around this same time that California genealogist Margaret Press approached Fitzpatrick with an idea. Press wanted to form an organization to help identify Jane and John Does using her years of genealogy experience building family trees combined with DNA databases. It was something she and other genealogists had been doing to help adoptees for some time. Together, the women developed data to generate genetic profiles for forensic cases in the same way companies such as 23andMe create genetic profiles for individuals. They then uploaded those profiles to GEDMatch. What they needed were cases. Fitzpatrick thought of Elliott. He agreed to let her have another crack at the mystery suicide case.
Although Nichols’s DNA was very degraded, the women, using techniques they developed, were able to obtain more genetic information than Fitzpatrick originally found, locating a number of third and fourth cousins. With the help of volunteers, they built family trees, narrowing their search to a single family with four sons. There were death certificates for three, but there was no death certificate for one of them — Robert Ivan Nichols. A volunteer looked up his birth certificate. He recognized the address it listed: 1823 Center Street.
New Albany, Indiana — that’s where it all began for the family. A suburb of Louisville, just across the Ohio River in Kentucky, is where Robert Ivan Nichols returned after fighting in World War II. Robert got a job delivering Coca-Cola, and played standup bass in a “hillbilly” band, Phil Nichols says. Phil’s maternal grandfather was a farmer who called square dances. Robert met Phil’s mother, Laverne Agnus Korty, at a dance.
Robert never talked about the war, but Robert’s mother did. He joined the Navy in 1944, straight out of high school. In May 1945, six Japanese kamikaze planes attacked the ship he was serving on in the South Pacific. He was part of a 16-man team that fed ammunition to one of the ship’s armored guns or turrets. Robert was one of only four men on his turret to survive the attack. In a newspaper account published in the Courier-Journal New Albany Bureau, he describes it as “52 minutes of hell.”
“When it was all over, all I thought about was home,” Robert told the newspaper.
He was 18. The newspaper listed his home address: 1823 Center Street.
When Robert returned to Center Street from the war, Phil’s grandmother told Phil, he put his uniform in the coal bin and burned it. Then Robert got the wooden airplanes he had built as a child and took them outside. He aimed a model machine gun at them.
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Rat-a-tat-tat.
The model airplanes were destroyed by the gun’s BBs. That’s what Phil remembers his grandmother telling him. As children, Phil and his two younger brothers, Charlie and Dave, often spent time with their grandparents. It was one of his brothers who found the newspaper article about their father’s ship. Dave, the youngest, died of cancer in 2015; he was 9 when his father disappeared. Phil was 16 and Charlie was 14.
In 2018, after the marshals identified their mystery suicide as Robert Nichols, media accounts followed. Several accounts described how Robert burned his military uniform after returning from the war. Phil was upset that some commenters misinterpreted that as Robert being unpatriotic.
He wants to make it clear that his father was a patriot, but that after the war, he became a pacifist. Robert returned with a Purple Heart and shrapnel in his back and hip. At home, he was quiet and well mannered, rarely showing either affection or anger.
“Even when he was home, it was like nobody was there,” says Phil.
According to Phil, about a year before he left, Robert began encouraging his wife to get a driver’s license and a job. They separated and filed for divorce. Robert asked Phil if he wanted to come with him. Phil told him he didn’t, but not in quite such polite terms. Instead, Phil enlisted in the military after he graduated from high school. His goal was to be a pilot, but he spent most of his off-duty hours in a bar. He wonders now how his life might have been different had he left with his father.
The last message Phil received was the penny, mailed to him while he was stationed in Mississippi. It arrived in a business-size envelope with a California postmark. But there was no letter offering an explanation, nor a return address.
“There was nothing,” he says.
Robert’s letters to his parents, shared with Vox by Elliott, were more prolific. After leaving Louisville, Robert moved to Dearborn, Michigan. In August 1964, he told his parents about going to church in the hope of meeting “the right kind of people.”
“I thaught (sic) it would be a good time to start again since my moving up here was sort of a new beginning,” he wrote.
A year later, he sent them a letter from California.
“I will write as often as I can and let you know how I am doing,” he said. It was his last letter.
Other correspondence came instead — letters from all the organizations Robert’s mother contacted asking for help locating him. A woman named Pauline at the Salvation Army was sympathetic but firm in her 1966 reply, explaining that the organization could not help when the person does not want to be found.
“It’s so hard to understand why so many leave home and neglect to keep in touch …” she wrote.
There were many of those, especially at the turn of the 20th century, says Franchesca Werden, DNA Doe Project’s media director. Before the internet and DNA, it was relatively common and easy for people to disappear. That happened a lot, says Werden. A man could move four towns over and change his name, or not change his name, and just lead another life. In the 19th century, taking on an alias was relatively simple, wrote Beverly Schwartzberg in the Journal of Social History in 2004. Schwartzberg cited a song popular among California miners, the refrain of which is: “Oh, what was your name in the States?”
That doesn’t mean it did not have a profound effect on the families left behind. In her genealogical research, Werden has found that what happened generations ago is woven into the tapestry of a family’s story. A father who walked out in 1939 to buy a pack of cigarettes and never came back has an impact on his grandchildren. How exactly this plays out differs from family to family. It’s “sort of Tolstoy,” with each family suffering a unique sort of grief, says Margaret Press, the DNA Doe co-founder, who happens to write her own true crime and mystery books.
Before co-founding the DNA Doe Project with Fitzpatrick in 2017, Press worked on finding parentage in adoption cases. (Fitzpatrick left in June to spend more time on IdentiFinders.) Both in adoption and in Jane and John Doe searches, the ethical questions are the same, says Press, including “whose rights trumps whose.” In the case of adoption, the primary question is whether an adoptee’s right to know their history trumps a birth parent’s right to privacy. Press believes it does. Although she finds it “sad” that sperm donors and birth parents may have been promised that they would never be named, she says she believes “anonymity is not a right.”
There are times she is less sure of herself. She acknowledges “there’s conflicting moral rights,” and that without the benefit of a law, the DNA Doe Project has to make its own ethical decisions. Press is firm in her belief that families have the right to know and authorities have the right to close cases, but she points out that the Doe Project only makes recommendations based on its findings and leaves it to law enforcement to decide about notifying families. Yet the project often contacts distant family members to narrow down their search. Press recalls accidentally contacting a first instead of third cousin.
“And I kind of stepped on a snake, if you will,” she says. “I overturned a bucket I didn’t expect to overturn.”
Press also cites the case of an African American man who discovered his birth father was a white man who had a wife, two grown children, and a country club membership. After the father rebuffed his son, Press wondered if she should tell the half-siblings about their half-brother. Someone else asked whether the father had the right not to know.
“And I thought that was an interesting semantic twist,” says Press. “Do people have a right not to know? And how do we make that decision for them?”
In some ways, it is easier to make decisions in Doe cases because the person at the center of the mystery is dead. In other ways, it is more complicated. In the 30 cases the project has solved, Press says mental illness and family estrangement are common. In many cases, the families never declared the Does missing, says Fitzpatrick. It could be because of the estrangement, or lack of support from police, or even lack of power to conduct a national search, which was true when some of these cases occurred more than 30 years ago. Law enforcement officials were limited by technology and their own biases, and some families might not have seen any reason to involve them, says Press. While online sleuths sometimes fault families for not reporting the member missing, she sees it differently.
“Yes, there were families where the mother was in jail or didn’t care or didn’t seem to care. We don’t know how they really feel,” she says.
Yet she and others doing this sort of work generally operate under the assumption that the family must want to know. It gets more complicated when suicide and fake names are involved. Fitzpatrick remembers one case involving a woman who appeared to have fled her original family. The woman, who went by the name Lori Erica Ruff, killed herself in Texas in 2010. Afterward, it was discovered that she had been using an alias. Her true identity was revealed in 2016. She left home in Philadelphia in 1986 at 17 because she did not get along with her stepfather. Did she have an obligation to let the family know when she apparently didn’t want to be found? Fitzpatrick wonders. In some ways the question is moot; DNA and genealogists are already in play.
Investigative journalist James Renner, who reported on the Chandler case and even wrote a novel loosely based on it, believes Ruff and those like her who are running from something terrible should be able to disappear.
“What right do we have to open up those doors?” he asks.
He makes an exception for rape and murder, and he is not the only one who believes the Nichols case may have involved both. Because of Robert Nichols’s various eccentricities and the time he spent in California in the late 1960s and early ’70s, when the Zodiac Killer was active there, some web sleuths and even members of law enforcement — like Elliott, who says he can’t rule it out — suspect Nichols could be the killer. Phil is less sure.
“I find it hard to imagine because he was always such a gentle person,” he says.
Instead, he thinks his father was running from responsibility, in particular paying child support. When reporters come asking about the case, he is polite and open yet protective of other family members. He has the introspection and patience of a man who has spent years in Alcoholics Anonymous. He is reluctant to criticize or dwell on what he cannot change. But he does ask what the family gets out of it. The press gets a story, law enforcement gets to close a case, the Doe Project gets congratulations, but what does the family get?
His dad is still missing, in ways. All Phil knows now is how he died. Little was left in his apartment aside from the gun he used to kill himself. Elliott offered it to Phil and his brother. They told him to keep it. Of the press conference where his father’s identity was announced, Phil says, “I was just a minor part of it.” He is one of the few family members who have spoken publicly. While Press doesn’t think Does have a right to privacy, she believes their families do. Yet the work she does can lead to their exposure.
Without guidelines and rules, genetic genealogy is a sort of a Wild West, says Renner.
“Not that DNA databases are new,” adds de Groot. “It’s just that suddenly there’s this enormous ability for amateurs to get involved, and that opens up all kinds of ethical issues.”
Fitzpatrick wants to try to address some of those issues through a think tank that will bring together prosecutors, law enforcement, genealogists, missing persons experts, database engineers, and family members. (GEDMatch changed its policy earlier this year so users now have to opt in to allow law enforcement access to their data.)
“We are past the ‘oh, my god’ era,” says Fitzpatrick.
Now, she says, we have to address where we are going with it.
The Nichols case was one of the first “oh, my god” tales. If it were a Hollywood script, it might end with Robert being the Zodiac Killer, says Renner. But Robert also could have been a Don Draper, who on the television show Mad Men lives a double life after being traumatized by war.
“So, which is it?” asks Renner.
Elliott, the US marshal, says he is still trying to figure it out. Phil may never know. He is 72 and haunted by his own ghosts. After he was discharged from the military, Phil held a series of jobs: in printing, driving trucks, with various temp agencies. He’s been married four times and has five children. The women and children are not really part of his life anymore, aside from one daughter who lives in Louisville. Over the years, he’s moved many times. Somewhere along the way, he lost his father’s Purple Heart. He also lost any pictures he had of them together.
In the single room where he lives in Cincinnati, about 100 miles northeast of Louisville, he keeps several pictures of his father on his computer. Some are labeled “Dad as Joseph Newton Chandler,” and others are from when his father was Robert Nichols. There are a coffeepot and microwave in the room and a deck where he can smoke. He has lived in long-term sober living homes for almost two decades. His earlier life was spent largely in the haze of alcohol and drug addiction.
The $82,000 his father left behind would have been useful. Some of the money was spent on private investigators, and some went to the coworker who served as executor. All of it is gone. Before he killed himself, Robert Nichols had been diagnosed with colon cancer and was undergoing treatment. He was nearing the end of his life and, living in the Midwest again, he had almost come home. His last stop was Cleveland, a city just four hours from where his eldest son was living and a little over five from his original home on Center Street in Indiana.
Phil never got to tell his father he forgives him for leaving — and for not really being there in the first place. He has never visited the graveyard in Cleveland where his father’s ashes are interred. He doesn’t believe that’s where his father is. Not his soul, at least.
In a way, he is right. The name on the wall where his father’s remains rest is that of another man: Joseph Newton Chandler III.
Katya Cengel has written for the New York Times Magazine and the Wall Street Journal, among other publications, and is the author of three nonfiction books. Her most recent book, From Chernobyl with Love: Reporting from the Ruins of the Soviet Union was awarded an Independent Publisher Book Award and a Foreword INDIES.
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Most people who get the coronavirus will fully recover and go right back to their lives. But the latest research suggests that at least 10 percent have long-term symptoms, even after their body has apparently cleared the virus.
The condition, known as “long Covid,” has emerged as a scary feature of the pandemic — a reminder that even as hospitalizations and deaths come down, millions of people will continue to suffer from the aftermath of infection.
And, as it turns out, “this isn’t unique to Covid,” Akiko Iwasaki, an immunologist at the Yale School of Medicine, told Vox.
Instead, Covid-19 appears to be one of many infections, from Ebola to strep throat, that can give rise to stubborn symptoms in an unlucky subset of patients. “It is more typical than not that a virus infection leads to long-lasting symptoms in some fraction of individuals,” Iwasaki said.
The difference now is that, with 137 million Covid-19 cases worldwide and counting, long-haulers are more visible: Their suffering has come on in unprecedented numbers. It’s also possible the coronavirus causes long-term symptoms even more frequently than other infections.
In this week’s episode of Unexplainable, we dive into what we know about long Covid and what other viruses can teach us about the condition, including the leading hypotheses for what might be driving symptoms in Covid long-haulers.
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We also look at what we can learn from patients who have been grappling with medically unexplained symptoms — the kind that don’t correspond to problematic diagnostic test results or imaging — for years before the pandemic hit. Here’s a rundown of what scientists think could explain the mysterious symptoms, and why even the vaccine might not help.
1) The virus and “viral ghosts” didn’t actually leave the body
The first explanation for what might cause persistent symptoms in people who’ve been infected with Covid-19 is the simplest: The virus or its components might still be lurking in the body somewhere, long after a person starts testing negative.
We’ve learned from other long-term viral illnesses that, in some cases, pathogens do not fully clear the body. “It’s out of the blood but gets into tissue in a low level — the gut, even maybe the brain in some people who are really sick — and you have a reservoir of the virus that remains,” PolyBio Research Foundation microbiologist Amy Proal told Vox. “And that drives a lot of inflammation and symptoms.”
These viral reservoirs have been documented following infections with many other pathogens. During the 2014-2016 Ebola epidemic, studies emerged showing the Ebola virus could linger in the eye and semen. There were similar findings during the 2015-2016 Zika epidemic when health officials warned about the possibility that Zika could be sexually transmitted. (Viral reservoirs are also why the moniker “post-viral” can be problematic, Proal added.)
A related explanation for what might be happening with long-Covid patients is what Iwasaki calls “viral ghosts.” While the intact virus may have left the body, “there may be RNA and protein from the virus that’s lingering and continuing to stimulate the immune system,” Iwasaki said. “It’s almost like having a chronic viral infection — it keeps stimulating the immune system because the virus or viral components are still there, and the body doesn’t know how to shut it off.”
Recent studies in Nature and The Lancet documented coronavirus RNA and protein in a variety of body systems, including the gastrointestinal tract and brain.
In autopsies of people with chronic fatigue syndrome, researchers also found enterovirus RNA and proteins in patients’ brains, including, in one case, in the brain stem region. The brain stem controls sleep cycles, autonomic function (the largely unconscious system driving bodily functions, such as digestion, blood pressure, and heart rate), and the flu-like symptoms we develop in response to inflammation and injury.
“If that area of the brain signaling becomes dysregulated [by viruses],” Proal said, “[that] can result in sets of symptoms that meet a diagnostic criteria for [chronic fatigue syndrome], or even for long Covid.”
2) Other pathogens lurking in the body reawaken
Other pathogens already lurking in the body prior to a coronavirus infection might also exacerbate symptoms. For example, viruses in the herpes family — such as Epstein-Barr (the cause of mono) or varicella zoster (the cause of chickenpox and shingles) — stay dormant in the body forever. Under normal conditions, the immune system can keep them in check.
“So, for example, 90 percent of people in the world already have herpes viruses,” said Proal. “But in those patients, the immune system keeps them in a place where they can’t replicate, where they can’t express proteins. They’re kind of controlled.”
But then Covid-19 comes along, and all of a sudden these other viruses get a chance to gain a foothold again. With the immune system tied up fighting Covid-19, the other viruses may reawaken. And they — not the coronavirus — drive symptoms.
3) The immune system turns on the body
Another key hypothesis: Long-Covid patients have developed an autoimmune disorder. The virus interrupts normal immune function, causing it to misfire, so that molecules that normally target foreign invaders — like viruses — turn on the body.
These “rogue antibodies,” known as autoantibodies, “attack either elements of the body’s immune defences or specific proteins in organs such as the heart,” according to Nature. The assault is thought to be distinct from cytokine storm, an acute immune system disorder that appeared as a potential threat early in the pandemic.
“Under that scenario, we talk about molecular mimicry,” Proal said. “Basically, the virus creates proteins that look like human proteins or tissue, and that kind of tricks the immune system.” Here, the the immune system tries to target the virus, which “if it has a similar size and shape to a human tissue or protein, it fires on the human tissue or protein as well,” she added.
4) The microbiome gets thrown out of whack
It’s also possible the coronavirus might deplete important microorganisms in the gut microbiome — the trillions of bacteria, viruses, and fungi that live in and on the body.
In one study, researchers tracked blood and stool samples from 100 patients hospitalized with SARS-CoV-2 infection, testing some up to 30 days after they cleared the virus. (They also collected samples from a control group for comparison.) And they found Covid-19 infection was linked to a “dysbiotic gut microbiome,” even after the virus cleared the respiratory tract; they also hypothesized that it might contribute to the persistent health problems some patients are experiencing.
“Under conditions of health, those communities are in a state of balance. It’s like a forest, like different organisms are doing different things, but it’s in a harmonious state,” Proal said. But Covid-19 could lead to an imbalance in the microbiome. “And a huge number of symptoms are tied to microbiome dysbiosis. Irritable bowel syndrome or even neuro-inflammatory symptoms can be driven by these ecosystems when they go out of balance, too.”
5) The body is injured
The virus might have cleared the body but left injuries in its wake — scars in the lungs or damage to the heart, for example — and these injuries might give rise to symptoms.
According to a recent preprint involving 201 patients, 70 percent had impairments in one or more organs four months after their initial Covid-19 symptoms set in. In other unpublished research, radiologists at the University of Southern California tracked hospitalized patients’ lung recovery using CT scans. They found one-third had scars caused by tissue death more than a month later. Other patients may have brain damage that causes neurological symptoms.
There’s also growing evidence of widespread cardiac injury, even in patients who aren’t hospitalized. In a JAMA Cardiology study, researchers performed cardiac MRIs on 100 patients in Germany who had recovered from Covid-19 within the past two to three months. An astounding 78 percent still had heart abnormalities.