FBInCIAnNSATerroristSlayer
2020-03-13 11:35:43 UTC
If you consider the SET of "Human Species", White Christians are the
most selfish and greedy people of all races.
If you consider the SET of "White Christians" inside the "SET of Human
Species", American Whites are the most selfish and greedy people of all
White christian countries.
Excerpts:
I have no confidence that the U.S. will do what is right during and
after this pandemic. This country is structurally incapable and
fundamentally unwilling to put people over money, and all people over
just some.
And now I try to explain to them why I’d much rather be there than here
at this scary time because of something more invisible even than a
virus: the loneliness and isolation I feel here, in a country where
everyone’s out for themselves.
=====================================================================
https://theintercept.com/2020/03/12/italy-coronavirus-united-states-preparedness/
Why I’d Rather Be in Italy for the Coronavirus Pandemic
Alice Speri
March 12 2020, 3:14 p.m.
I have spent the last week looking for flights from New York to Italy —
not because of coronavirus-inspired flash sales, but because I would
rather go home to a country that’s currently in the grip of one of the
worst outbreaks in the world than stay in the United States, where life
is about to get infinitely worse.
More than 15,000 people have tested positive for the new coronavirus in
Italy, more than 1,000 have died, and hospitals are at a breaking point.
Hundreds of medical staff have been infected, and overwhelmed doctors
are reporting having to choose which patients to treat. They are begging
the rest of the world to take this virus more seriously. The entire
country — 60.5 million people — has been on lockdown for almost a week.
In the U.S., meanwhile, where some are just starting to realize the
enormity of the crisis and far too many remain in denial, confusion
reigns, largely aided by our top officials’ inept response. Last night,
after President Donald Trump abruptly announced he was blocking travel
from Europe to the U.S. — though officials later retracted and clarified
much of that statement — people in Europe raced to airports, reportedly
paying as much as $20,000 to try to catch flights out. And still I am
trying to figure out how to make the opposite trip.
Even as the death toll back home continues to climb and the lockdown
gets stricter by the day, I would much rather weather this pandemic in
Italy than here. I just can’t shake the terror that the United States,
my adopted country, is fundamentally unequipped to handle what lies ahead.
Join Our Newsletter
Original reporting. Fearless journalism. Delivered to you.
I’m in
When Italy announced its first Covid-19 case three weeks ago, it started
aggressively testing people, making it the first country in Europe to
record skyrocketing numbers of infected patients and to see its markets
collapse. My ever-optimistic father, who worked in public health for
decades and has been texting me calm and reasoned updates throughout the
outbreak, wrote earlier this week that “things are getting hard.” Coming
from him, that means they are really bad.
In the U.S., despite weeks of notice, officials are scrambling to get a
grip on a quickly approaching disaster. Trump’s press conference last
night was the most terrifying public statement I have ever heard, even
from him. Days ago, as the number of infections rose at home, I began
hearing about friends of friends here in New York who were struggling to
get tested despite worsening symptoms. And yet as cases multiply in the
U.S., the number of people tested here remains abysmally low. No one
knows what’s coming, but we know far less here in the U.S. than people
do back home.
It is a tragic irony that a public health emergency unlike anything we
have seen in generations would come as Americans are constantly told
that the idea of health care as a fundamental right is entitled,
radical, crazy talk. What is crazy, to anyone outside the United States,
is that it’s even a question.
Back in Italy, people are worried they’ll get themselves or their loved
ones sick, they are angry at directives that came late, they are even
scared that hospitals won’t be able to keep up. But there are more
hospital beds and doctors per capita in Italy than there are in the U.S.
The Italian government’s harsh restrictions are in part an effort to
stop the virus from spreading to the south, where the health care system
is weaker. But for all their fears, Italians don’t have to worry that
tests won’t be available, or that they’ll have to pay for those tests,
or for any of their care. They don’t have to fear that if they seek help
now, they’ll get a surprise bill later or that medical costs will
bankrupt them.
As Italy shut down its schools, families scrambled to figure out what to
do with their kids. But the Italian government has moved to issue child
care vouchers and paid leave. Closing schools is causing major
disruptions, but nobody argued that you shouldn’t close public schools
because that’s where tens of thousands of children get their only
guaranteed meals.
The Italian government has tentatively approved a $28 billion plan to
help Italians through the crisis, and mortgage payments and bills are on
hold. The U.S. government will have to step in to mitigate the crisis
too, but some politicians are already balking at the prospect, and I
can’t blame my fellow Americans for going into this with low
expectations. If the 2008 financial crisis is any indication, regular
people won’t see much of any future bailout. Italians know that they’ll
get through looming hard times because their government will do its part
— not because it is a particularly good, generous, or even functional
government, but because that is what governments are supposed to do.
Yes, the Italian system is often a mess. Italians love to complain about
their elected officials, and this crisis is no exception. Our government
is notorious for its infighting and instability, and when the virus
first hit, Italian politicians did what politicians do everywhere: They
politicized the crisis, dragged their feet, pointed fingers. And some
Italians thought they could outsmart the system, slipped out of
quarantine, and went skiing.
The rollout of the new restrictions has been chaotic — though not quite
as chaotic as it could have been, considering that these are
unprecedented limitations of individual freedom for a nonauthoritarian
regime. One of the most tragic consequences of the lockdown has been a
series of prison riots that has left 12 people dead. There is no modern
precedent for such violence in Italian prisons — but there are plenty of
examples in the U.S., where two million people are imprisoned in
conditions that counter every public health standard. Italian inmates
are not paid 65 cents an hour to mass produce hand sanitizer they may
not be allowed to use.
Of course, there are people in Italy who are especially vulnerable. For
immigrants, the drama of the virus has been compounded by racism.
Disinformation on social media has been rampant — and my own elderly
aunt shared dubious advice by self-proclaimed experts before a younger
relative informed her it was fake. Italy is no better than the U.S. on
that front.
And in some ways, the responses to the virus in my two countries have
been similar: late and misleadingly reassuring. But for all of Italy’s
flaws, I would still rather be there than here. I have no confidence
that the U.S. will do what is right during and after this pandemic. This
country is structurally incapable and fundamentally unwilling to put
people over money, and all people over just some.
In the U.S., millions are uninsured or underinsured, people working
multiple jobs can’t make rent, and workers making a few dollars an hour
are told that if they miss a shift their hours will be cut. This is a
society that responds to poverty with police, and to health care needs
with jail. It may be true that viruses only see bodies, not class or
immigration status, but there is no question that those who will bear
the brunt of this pandemic will be the poorest and most marginalized.
The fundamental inequality on which everything in this country is
predicated will be exacerbated by this crisis in ways we cannot fathom.
Whatever myths my family in Italy held about the United States, they
have largely come undone over the years I have lived here. I have found
myself explaining countless times how everything from the U.S. criminal
justice system to health care regularly fails to do what Italians expect
of their institutions, no matter how much they criticize them. I have
explained to incredulous friends used to complaining about Italy’s
crippling bureaucracy just how unjust and racist U.S. bureaucracy can be.
And now I try to explain to them why I’d much rather be there than here
at this scary time because of something more invisible even than a
virus: the loneliness and isolation I feel here, in a country where
everyone’s out for themselves.
The virus may be coming for all of us, but there is a fundamental
difference between my two countries. In Italy, children stuck at home
have been drawing signs with the words “Everything will be fine” and
hanging them from windows all across the country. For a society as
communal and physical in its affections as Italy, social distancing has
been an extraordinary blow. And yet even with people locked up in their
homes away from family and neighbors, a strong sense of solidarity has
emerged. Italians know they’ll get through this because they have each
other’s back. I am not sure we Americans can say that.
Wait! Before you go on about your day, ask yourself: How likely is it
that the story you just read would have been produced by a different
news outlet if The Intercept hadn’t done it?
Consider what the world of media would look like without The Intercept.
Who would hold party elites accountable to the values they proclaim to
have? How many covert wars, miscarriages of justice, and dystopian
technologies would remain hidden if our reporters weren’t on the beat?
The kind of reporting we do is essential to democracy, but it is not
easy, cheap, or profitable. The Intercept is an independent nonprofit
news outlet. We don’t have ads, so we depend on our members — 35,000 and
counting — to help us hold the powerful to account. Joining is simple
and doesn’t need to cost a lot: You can become a sustaining member for
as little as $3 or $5 a month. That’s all it takes to support the
journalism you rely on.
most selfish and greedy people of all races.
If you consider the SET of "White Christians" inside the "SET of Human
Species", American Whites are the most selfish and greedy people of all
White christian countries.
Excerpts:
I have no confidence that the U.S. will do what is right during and
after this pandemic. This country is structurally incapable and
fundamentally unwilling to put people over money, and all people over
just some.
And now I try to explain to them why I’d much rather be there than here
at this scary time because of something more invisible even than a
virus: the loneliness and isolation I feel here, in a country where
everyone’s out for themselves.
=====================================================================
https://theintercept.com/2020/03/12/italy-coronavirus-united-states-preparedness/
Why I’d Rather Be in Italy for the Coronavirus Pandemic
Alice Speri
March 12 2020, 3:14 p.m.
I have spent the last week looking for flights from New York to Italy —
not because of coronavirus-inspired flash sales, but because I would
rather go home to a country that’s currently in the grip of one of the
worst outbreaks in the world than stay in the United States, where life
is about to get infinitely worse.
More than 15,000 people have tested positive for the new coronavirus in
Italy, more than 1,000 have died, and hospitals are at a breaking point.
Hundreds of medical staff have been infected, and overwhelmed doctors
are reporting having to choose which patients to treat. They are begging
the rest of the world to take this virus more seriously. The entire
country — 60.5 million people — has been on lockdown for almost a week.
In the U.S., meanwhile, where some are just starting to realize the
enormity of the crisis and far too many remain in denial, confusion
reigns, largely aided by our top officials’ inept response. Last night,
after President Donald Trump abruptly announced he was blocking travel
from Europe to the U.S. — though officials later retracted and clarified
much of that statement — people in Europe raced to airports, reportedly
paying as much as $20,000 to try to catch flights out. And still I am
trying to figure out how to make the opposite trip.
Even as the death toll back home continues to climb and the lockdown
gets stricter by the day, I would much rather weather this pandemic in
Italy than here. I just can’t shake the terror that the United States,
my adopted country, is fundamentally unequipped to handle what lies ahead.
Join Our Newsletter
Original reporting. Fearless journalism. Delivered to you.
I’m in
When Italy announced its first Covid-19 case three weeks ago, it started
aggressively testing people, making it the first country in Europe to
record skyrocketing numbers of infected patients and to see its markets
collapse. My ever-optimistic father, who worked in public health for
decades and has been texting me calm and reasoned updates throughout the
outbreak, wrote earlier this week that “things are getting hard.” Coming
from him, that means they are really bad.
In the U.S., despite weeks of notice, officials are scrambling to get a
grip on a quickly approaching disaster. Trump’s press conference last
night was the most terrifying public statement I have ever heard, even
from him. Days ago, as the number of infections rose at home, I began
hearing about friends of friends here in New York who were struggling to
get tested despite worsening symptoms. And yet as cases multiply in the
U.S., the number of people tested here remains abysmally low. No one
knows what’s coming, but we know far less here in the U.S. than people
do back home.
It is a tragic irony that a public health emergency unlike anything we
have seen in generations would come as Americans are constantly told
that the idea of health care as a fundamental right is entitled,
radical, crazy talk. What is crazy, to anyone outside the United States,
is that it’s even a question.
Back in Italy, people are worried they’ll get themselves or their loved
ones sick, they are angry at directives that came late, they are even
scared that hospitals won’t be able to keep up. But there are more
hospital beds and doctors per capita in Italy than there are in the U.S.
The Italian government’s harsh restrictions are in part an effort to
stop the virus from spreading to the south, where the health care system
is weaker. But for all their fears, Italians don’t have to worry that
tests won’t be available, or that they’ll have to pay for those tests,
or for any of their care. They don’t have to fear that if they seek help
now, they’ll get a surprise bill later or that medical costs will
bankrupt them.
As Italy shut down its schools, families scrambled to figure out what to
do with their kids. But the Italian government has moved to issue child
care vouchers and paid leave. Closing schools is causing major
disruptions, but nobody argued that you shouldn’t close public schools
because that’s where tens of thousands of children get their only
guaranteed meals.
The Italian government has tentatively approved a $28 billion plan to
help Italians through the crisis, and mortgage payments and bills are on
hold. The U.S. government will have to step in to mitigate the crisis
too, but some politicians are already balking at the prospect, and I
can’t blame my fellow Americans for going into this with low
expectations. If the 2008 financial crisis is any indication, regular
people won’t see much of any future bailout. Italians know that they’ll
get through looming hard times because their government will do its part
— not because it is a particularly good, generous, or even functional
government, but because that is what governments are supposed to do.
Yes, the Italian system is often a mess. Italians love to complain about
their elected officials, and this crisis is no exception. Our government
is notorious for its infighting and instability, and when the virus
first hit, Italian politicians did what politicians do everywhere: They
politicized the crisis, dragged their feet, pointed fingers. And some
Italians thought they could outsmart the system, slipped out of
quarantine, and went skiing.
The rollout of the new restrictions has been chaotic — though not quite
as chaotic as it could have been, considering that these are
unprecedented limitations of individual freedom for a nonauthoritarian
regime. One of the most tragic consequences of the lockdown has been a
series of prison riots that has left 12 people dead. There is no modern
precedent for such violence in Italian prisons — but there are plenty of
examples in the U.S., where two million people are imprisoned in
conditions that counter every public health standard. Italian inmates
are not paid 65 cents an hour to mass produce hand sanitizer they may
not be allowed to use.
Of course, there are people in Italy who are especially vulnerable. For
immigrants, the drama of the virus has been compounded by racism.
Disinformation on social media has been rampant — and my own elderly
aunt shared dubious advice by self-proclaimed experts before a younger
relative informed her it was fake. Italy is no better than the U.S. on
that front.
And in some ways, the responses to the virus in my two countries have
been similar: late and misleadingly reassuring. But for all of Italy’s
flaws, I would still rather be there than here. I have no confidence
that the U.S. will do what is right during and after this pandemic. This
country is structurally incapable and fundamentally unwilling to put
people over money, and all people over just some.
In the U.S., millions are uninsured or underinsured, people working
multiple jobs can’t make rent, and workers making a few dollars an hour
are told that if they miss a shift their hours will be cut. This is a
society that responds to poverty with police, and to health care needs
with jail. It may be true that viruses only see bodies, not class or
immigration status, but there is no question that those who will bear
the brunt of this pandemic will be the poorest and most marginalized.
The fundamental inequality on which everything in this country is
predicated will be exacerbated by this crisis in ways we cannot fathom.
Whatever myths my family in Italy held about the United States, they
have largely come undone over the years I have lived here. I have found
myself explaining countless times how everything from the U.S. criminal
justice system to health care regularly fails to do what Italians expect
of their institutions, no matter how much they criticize them. I have
explained to incredulous friends used to complaining about Italy’s
crippling bureaucracy just how unjust and racist U.S. bureaucracy can be.
And now I try to explain to them why I’d much rather be there than here
at this scary time because of something more invisible even than a
virus: the loneliness and isolation I feel here, in a country where
everyone’s out for themselves.
The virus may be coming for all of us, but there is a fundamental
difference between my two countries. In Italy, children stuck at home
have been drawing signs with the words “Everything will be fine” and
hanging them from windows all across the country. For a society as
communal and physical in its affections as Italy, social distancing has
been an extraordinary blow. And yet even with people locked up in their
homes away from family and neighbors, a strong sense of solidarity has
emerged. Italians know they’ll get through this because they have each
other’s back. I am not sure we Americans can say that.
Wait! Before you go on about your day, ask yourself: How likely is it
that the story you just read would have been produced by a different
news outlet if The Intercept hadn’t done it?
Consider what the world of media would look like without The Intercept.
Who would hold party elites accountable to the values they proclaim to
have? How many covert wars, miscarriages of justice, and dystopian
technologies would remain hidden if our reporters weren’t on the beat?
The kind of reporting we do is essential to democracy, but it is not
easy, cheap, or profitable. The Intercept is an independent nonprofit
news outlet. We don’t have ads, so we depend on our members — 35,000 and
counting — to help us hold the powerful to account. Joining is simple
and doesn’t need to cost a lot: You can become a sustaining member for
as little as $3 or $5 a month. That’s all it takes to support the
journalism you rely on.
