Yes, Defund the Police

 

I heard the demonstrators demanding, “Defund the police!” They can't be serious, I thought.  The very notion seems radical and dangerous on its face, and if carried out would surely leave us vulnerable to violence in our homes and streets. And that's the pitch, of course, that Trump is using to try to get re-elected as a law-and-order President, this from a man who regularly bends and breaks the law, and whom I hope to see some day making a perp walk.

But is he right about de-funding the police? The question is as urgent here in my home Suffolk County as it is in Minneapolis where George Floyd died.

New York  Governor Andrew Cuomo has ordered  every municipality in the state to conduct a comprehensive review of the role of the police in public safety. A plan for “reform and reinvention,” says the order, must be completed, presented for public comment and passed by the County Legislature by next April 1, according to the Governor’s order. 

What are we paying for?

For me to weigh the idea of de-funding, it's necessary to ask first what we are exactly funding in the first place. What do our police actually do on a routine basis for all the money we spend on them, an especially relevant question here in Suffolk where police are paid more than any other force in the country.

Fortunately, the FBI keeps statistics that bear on the question. The statistics show that very little of a police officer’s day is directly devoted to the kind of crime fighting dramatized by television and movies. I like such shows from old classics like Hill Street Blues to Major Crimes and CSI to historic ones like Murdoch Mysteries. But according to FBI statistics for 2016, for each of the 701,000 police employed that year, on average, less than two (1.78) violent crimes were reported. Again, that's per year, and includes murder, manslaughter, rape, robbery and aggravated assault. But reports, few as they were/officer, resulted in even fewer arrests--only a little more than half a million arrests, or less than one arrest/year for each officer.

As for property crimes, for each officer, on average, less than one property crime per month (11.3/year) was reported. That includes burglary, larceny-theft, motor vehicle theft and arson. And, these reports resulted in less than two arrests/officer through that whole year. 

Now, I'm not minimizing the importance of fighting such crime, but the statistics lead to the question of what exactly police officers are doing every day. That is a complex and layered question, and the answers, of course, include highway and traffic patrol, crowd control, and patrol of neighborhoods. In New York City, neighborhood patrol involved millions of stops-and-frisks until recently that have been found not to reduce crime while oppressing Blacks and other minorities. 

According to Alex Vitale, a sociology professor, author of The End of  Policing and the coordinator of the Policing and Social Justice Project at Brooklyn College, the police are actually spending a lot of their time trying to solve all sorts of community problems like drug addiction, homelessness, and mental health crises that they are ill-equipped to handle. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBazDnubww

Such problems could be better handled by those trained for the job: social workers, housing specialists, and mental health workers who are now among the lowest-paid of workers.  

It is especially notable that the highest number of arrests each year are for drug abuse violations, a result of our on-going War on Drugs. This so-called war was started by Richard Nixon, according to historians, as a racist and political tactic to continue the discriminatory effects of Jim Crow laws that could no longer be enforced due to public outrage. This suggests that decriminalizing drug use would eliminate the need for all this police intervention, not only eliminating the arrests of drug users and traffickers themselvs, but also cutting the number of thefts and burglaries by drug users desperate for money to support their addiction.

Professor Vitale argues that police have been given too many roles than they can safely fulfill with the limited tools at their disposal. Through training and practice, they turn to coercion, violence and the threat of violence to solve problems.  This is why we have so many tragic outcomes, such as a mentally ill person undergoing an episode of schizophrenia who is confronted by an armed police officer, and the situation gets out of control. Police should be the last resort in such cases, not the first. But when a mentally ill person becomes threatening, there is no one but the police to call.

Reforming the Police

But why not simply reform the police instead of de-funding? Minneapolis tried all the recommended reforms, and yet George Floyd died under the knee of an officer. The city now plans to replace its police with a department of community safety and violence prevention, which will prioritize a "public health-oriented approach" to situations involving the mentally ill and drug abusers. 

Vitale asserts that reforms including de-escalation training, body cameras and anti-bias training cannot solve the fundamental problem: modern policing in the United States is a continuation of what began as slave and border patrols that have been used to control and harm Black people and other minorities for generations. In 2016, Terrence Cunningham, president of the International Association of Chiefs of Police, apologized at the group’s annual conference for the historical mistreatment of communities of color, calling it a “dark side of our shared history” that must be recognized and overcome. Cunningham noted that police have historically been a face of oppression, enforcing laws that ensured legalized discrimination and denial of basic rights.

In recent years, modern policing has become even more dangerous because of militarization—officers in gear developed to protect soldiers in war zones, tank-like vehicles and weaponry designed to stop enemies—not our own citizens. The 2016 apology by Cunningham appears in Re-imagining Public Safety: Prevent Harm and Lead with the Truth A five-step policy plan for policing in America, https://policingequity.org/images/pdfs-doc/reports/re-imagining_public_safety_final_11.26.19.pd published by The Justice Collaboratory at Yale Law School. This is but one of many blueprints for reinventing our systems for public safety that have been around for years but have been ignored.

 It has become clear to me that there is no substitute for wholesale re-organization of how we keep our communities safe. Addicts and people suffering from mental health problems should be handled by professionsals trained to do so. And, if we de-criminalize drug use and prostitution, we eliminate not only all the arrests for those crimes, but also eliminate the incentive for millions of burglaries and robberies.

Yes, we can de-fund and be safer and have money left over to invest in our communities. The question now is whether, even with continuing demonstrations and new public consciousness, our leaders will be able to make the fundamental changes to policing that will prevent an endless repetition of tragic police killings. ##

 

 

Travels to Africa, Part 2--Drought

After more than 24 hours of air travel, I got home last night and indulged myself in something that was unthinkable in Africa: I lingered in the shower for longer than was necessary, luxuriating in the warm water flooding over my skin. In the 3 African countries we visited--Botswana, South Africa, and Zimbabwe, there are signs everywhere urging the conservation of water. "Every drop counts!' proclaim the signs, and in one public toilet the sinks put out only a miserly mist of water when I turned on the faucet. No stream of water at all.

The reason for this intensive conservation effort is that Africa is suffering from a prolonged drought. In the Chobe area of Botswana where we saw so many magnificent animals, the vegetation is mostly gone except right along the Chobe River. The elephants, who need an enormous amount of food and work at feeding themselves for about 18 hours a day, are peeling the bark off the trees to get at the nourishing layer underneath. 

 In the southern region of Madagascar, it is so dry that the people are subsisting on cassava leaves because they can no longer grow rice or other crops. More than 1 million are food insecure. In Northern Kenya, drought since 2016 threatens to leave another 4 million people food insecure.

Let's get real: The term food insecure is a sanitized way of saying that these people are in danger of starving.

Capetown, South Africa, is a favorite destination for tourists like us drawn by its great food and spectacular mountains, and also by the thousands of plants found only in that region. The Kirstenbosch botanical garden shows off this amazing variety of ericas, proteas, birds of paradise and so much more it was dazzling to see. Meanwhile, Capetown nearly ran out of water completely last year. It was so bad that hotel managers put buckets in the showers for people to catch water and then use it to flush the toilet.  Things had eased a bit this year, and we saw no buckets.

In Zimbabwe, out of a population of 16 million, one-third, or more than 5 million people need food assistance because of drought and other problems. And, of course, the famous Victoria Falls are diminished by drought, as I wrote in the first part of this African blog.

Why the droughts? A combination of effects of El Nino, increased irrigation, and--climate change. 

It is so infuriating that Trump, McConnell and the other Republican climate-change deniers continue to behave as if nothing is wrong, and nothing needs to be done. Drought is one of the big contributors to the mass migrations that are taking place.

 

Adventures in Africa September 2019: Part 1

An overnight flight took us to Johannesberg, South Africa. From there we flew to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe.

Sept. 3, 2019

Victoria Falls—Five years of drought have diminished Victoria Falls but they are still spectacular. The main falls drop more than 300 feet into a deep gorge, and the crashing water throw up spray that filters the sun into rainbows. We walked along a path on the cliff that follows the Zimbabwe side of the falls—the opposite bank is in the neighboring country of Zambia.

Zimbabwe is in trouble. Its currency has crashed, so U.S. dollars are the means of exchange. In fact, street sellers tried over and over to entice us to buy worthless Zimbabwe paper money as souvenirs.

 Harry, and I are staying in the grand, colonial era Victoria Falls Hotel which was designed so that it looks into the mouth of the gorge. Photos show the falls dropping into that notch, but there’s no water dropping there now. Rain is expected now that spring is coming, and we can only hope it arrives soon in this parched country.

Baboons, monkeys, wart hogs and pea hens are common sights here in town. And, we saw our first elephants during a river cruise on the Zambezi River just as the sun was setting! One medium size elephant worked the side of the river bank with his feet and body to create mud for a nice bath. The others, including two very small Dumbos, stuck very close to their Mamas. All came to drink. 

Last night we went to the Boma, a sprawling restaurant with an open-air stage.  Tasted a bit of crocodile and antelope. No, they don’t taste like chicken—just a bit tough, bland and inoffensive. As we entered, we were draped in colorful cloth, tied at the shoulder. During dinner a face-painter came by and within a few minutes had created a desert scene on my cheek, and an elephant on Harry’s. The artist, was very happy to receive a couple of dollars for his artistry.

After most people had finished eating barbecued beef, suckling pig, grilled short ribs, innumerable salads, stews, vegetables, soups, breads and desserts, there was drumming.  We each were given a drum to join in with a drum group, and it was fun to try to keep time until our hands started to hurt. Clearly there is a way to use one’s hands that we have not learned.

Tomorrow we leave for Botswana and safaris. 

Sept. 4-5: Botswana

First in a van on paved roads, then in an open-air, 4-wheel drive on roads of rutted, bumpy sand, we drove to the Chobe Game Lodge. The Lodge is the only game lodge located within Chobe National Park, consisting of 7,300 square miles. Along the way in we saw impala, a couple of giraffes, and greater kudu, a tall gorgeous antelope with spiral horns.

This lodge is anything but roughing it. A resort with gracious dining rooms, bars, health club, etc. Our room is beautifully furnished and has a lovely balcony overlooking a nice swimming pool, but it's too cool this time of year to want to use it. The lodge is all-inclusive, including wine and liquor, with some top-shelf exceptions. Within an hour we were out on a pontoon boat on the Chobe River. We chose this area because even in the drought there is a decent-size river and the animals come to drink: herds of elephants that walked and swam from the river bank to islands where they grazed on grass along with African buffalo. The very young elephants had to swim almost all the way, and used their little trunks like snorkels. The Mama elephants stayed right with them until they get to the other side. Then, nicely cool and wet, they used their trunks to toss sand all over themselves. Elephants can get sun-burn, and the dust is their SPF 50!

In the river itself were hippopotamuses, but all we could see were their piggy ears and their round backs as they surfaced to breathe. Tomorrow we will go out on a smaller boat and hopefully get closer to them.

Sept.5

Up at 5:15, we were out on a game drive at 6 after coffee and a few bites of muffin. Because the sand is so soft, the vehicles lurch from side to side, swaying in a motion not so different from being on a boat. (At the end of the day it felt as if I had been on a boat--I had the sensation known as sea legs.) We were searching for lions and we found them! First some females just sitting in the shade. Then a pride that had been out on the flat close to the river came towards us to get out of the sun for the rest of the day. The females are plenty big, but then a male came loping toward us with a big black mane. As he trotted along he roared—not a full-throated roar, but constant, deep growls. He passed maybe 30 feet from our 4-wheel drive vehicle and I was glad he kept on trekking. I knew that the lions don’t see the vehicles as containing separate people, just as some very large creature they don’t understand or regard as a threat. Nevertheless I felt a thrill of fear until he had gone by. 

We came around a corner and suddenly there was a herd of elephants, and a very big female pulling at the vegetation and then delicately curling its trunk to its mouth. We could not have been more than 15 feet from her. After a couple of minutes, she shook her head and flapped an ear and started towards us. Our driver hit the accelerator away from her. Any of these big elephants could easily turn over our vehicle. Both Chobe Lodge and the next place we went, Camp Moremi, have electrified wire surrounding them at a height of 8 feet or so, not enough to keep out a buffalo or a lion, but effective against the elephants. Only the elephants could literally destroy the buildings.

Camp Moremi

Our next stop, after a short flight in a Cessna that held maybe 10 people, was Camp Moremi. As we turn into the road just outside Camp Moremi, we are confronted with a male elephant whose giant body is blocking the two lanes. Two other vehicles are also blocked by the elephant, and we stand still for a few minutes waiting for him to move. He doesn’t and I’m worried that he might come towards us and turn us over. But the driver revs our engine, making it whine loudly, and this is startling enough to make the elephant move off into the bush.

 The staff greets us as we arrive with dancing and singing. One of the women startled us with an ululation. This is a sound that she produced by moving her tongue from side-to-side at an amazing speed 

Images from our stay there: A leopard bounding up into a tree and then sprawling full length along a big branch, its legs dangling over the sides. A young male lion lying down in the early morning sun opening its mouth and repeatedly issueing short, deep roars. Our guide tells us these roars can be heard far away and are an effort to establish itself in a territory. Later that day, we see two male lions, part of a pride with females, setting out across the open delta at a steady pace. The guide says they are responding to the young lion’s challenge. If they find him, they may kill him unless he retreats from their territory.

Just outside the grounds of the camp, we see a big buffalo that 2 lions killed during the night. The buffalo is in rigor, it’s legs stiff. One male lion—these are also not part of a pride—stands 15 feet away keeping watch over the kill, while the other lies nearby in long grass. The kill will keep them fed for quite a while. The guide tells us that sometimes the lions do enter the camp and all the guests run for their tent/rooms.

Expanses of flat terrain, parched, dead trees killed by past flooding. Now the massive Okavango Delta has shrunk after more than 5 years of drought. An artist we meet who comes from South Africa, Geogia Papageorge, tells us that the weather maps she sees at home show the whole content, except for a narrow band, without rain.

A herd of zebra, each one with a unique set of stripes all over its body. The stripes continue up into the standing bristles of its mane, and over its rump and down its tale. Black, white and tan.

Giraffes. Improbably tall, reaching high into trees with their necks and then up even higher with their long tongues that curl around a leaf and pull it to their mouths.  Or bending over the tops of the only green bushes that for whatever reason are unappetizing to the elephants or other animals and eating those leaves.

Wild dogs, round-eared, coats with large spots. Bouncing on stiff front legs and barking at 2 male lions that are blocking their way to the water. They bark and bounce repeatedly for five minutes or more, and then give it up. The pack runs away.

A family of baboons sitting in a sunny spot in the sand near the path from our tent in the early morning. It is a family tableau: father and mother with a tiny baby clinging to her.

Cold In Africa
A weather front pushed north from the Antarctic surprises us on our first night at Camp Moremi. We fall asleep in warm temperatures and awake shivering. Although these tents have wood floors and thatched roofs, the side are rubberized canvas with big screen openings the size of picture windows. The wind blows through unimpeded, and there is no heat. Yes, hot water and luxurious showers, but no heat source. We pull on all the layers of clothing we’ve brought, for me a long sleeved shirt, cashmere sweater, vest and jeans jacket. It’s not enough when we go out at 7 am for the morning game drive, even with the blankets they provide. I kick myself for not bringing my short down jacket. Never thought about a ski hat or gloves. The second night we huddle in bed under a wool blanket with a duvet on top, and we’re warm. The next morning is not as cold, and as the day goes on the previous warmth returns. After all, it really is still winter in Africa. 

The other guests we meet are from all over. Costa Rica, a dentist and his equestrian wife. A couple from Sao Paolo, Brazil. Many Aussies at Chobe, whom you always hear arriving in the dining room, their voices booming like Texans. Americans from Kansas City, San Francisco, Baltimore. Canadians from Toronto who—such a small world—have a condominium not only on Hutchinson Island like us but in the building just south of ours. All liberals—not a Trump supporter among them. I speculate that to travel to Africa you must be open-minded and adventurous, a believer that you can learn things from people other than Americans.

The food. I’ve had sorghum porridge for breakfast. Tastes like Cream of Wheat. Tasted springbok. Bland and rather tough. Most of the meats, including the chicken seemed over-cooked, but lamb, offered once at Chobe and once at Moremi, was good. Freshly baked breads and rolls. Portions seem small to us Americans where everything has become super-sized.  A starter of smoked salmon consists of a curl of salmon artistically placed on the plate with avocado. Cookies, more like biscuits, that are barely sweet. So in Botswana, the people eat little sugar and it shows in their beautiful teeth. Many have straight, white, movie-star smiles. The dentist from Costa Rica attributes it to the lack of sugar. Our guide who has dazzling white teeth says he has never been to a dentist!

Capetown

Our hotel, the Queen Victoria, is up the hill from the Victoria & Albert Waterfront, a complex of shopping malls and restaurants and entertainment. Even at this time of the year—which is the slow season, there always seemed to be some group of people there dancing and singing. There’s also a huge wheel that offers a panorama of the city.

Also above us is the famous Table Mountain, a massive stone uplift that is as flat as a table on one side. We had to take this description on faith until our last day in the city, of course, since it is also famously covered a lot of the time with clouds. In the end, we did see it after a night of rain left behind a morning of clear blue sky. In warmer weather, we would have taken a cable car up to see the view, but it is late winter/early spring here, so too cool for our taste up top.

We rode a tour bus out to the spectacular Kirstenbosch botanical gardens. Many of the plants and flowers we have in the U.S. originated here in South Africa, including such common flowers as lilies, marigolds and daisies. Here there are Birds of Paradise in orange, yellow and striped with blue. 

On the way back to our hotel, the bus swung behind Table Mountain to ride along the Atlantic Coast. Multi-million dollar homes crawl up the hillsides above beaches studded with granite boulders. Wealth inequality is on dramatic display here in Capetown. One stop on the bus was below a hillside covered with homes made of shipping containers—thousands of them, crowded together. Somehow, black people eke out a life under these conditions.

At the beginning of apartheid in the 1960’s, black residents of the city were simply removed, en masse, from their homes. We visited the District 6 Museum that tells the story  of one removal. District 6 was the name of a modest neighborhood of some 60,000 black Africans. They were ordered to move out with such little warning that they could take perhaps one suitcase of a few plates and dishes and cooking implements. 

We also visited South Africa’s National Gallery of Art—a revelation, it turned out. Some portrayed messages of liberation, but regardless of the message the works displayed an original, colorful point of view that I have never seen in American museums. Indeed, a display of abstract art pointedly explained that recent exhibits of abstraction at MOMA, among others, had left out African examples. 

Cape Point

Harry braved the left-side driving to take us down the Cape Peninsula to the Cape of Good Hope, topped by a lighthouse. During the drive we saw very little traffic, and so were surprised to find loads of tourists climbing up and down the slopes. We took the funicular to the base of the lighthouse, and were satisfied with views of sheer cliffs and crashing waves.

On the way back, we visited the colony of African penguins that live at a beach on the east coast of the peninsula, which faces False Bay where the water is somewhat warmer than on the Atlantic side. Like all penguins, these waddle comically on their tiny legs when they walk. There were hundreds of the birds. They are about 2-feet tall, their white bodies decorated with a black chevron.

Wine Country--Franschoek

An easy drive from Capetown took us to Franschhoek, a wine center originally settled by French Huguenots in the 17th century. We had booked two nights at a winery, La Petite Ferm, where our cottage looked out over the vineyard and a sweeping view of a valley and mountains. We tasted a half dozen wines. Most interesting was the Chardonnay. Long ago I had decided I disliked Chardonnay. Here I discovered that their oaked Chardonnay was delicious. Oaked or not, it turns out, is a matter of debate. All I can say is I liked theirs. This vineyard also produces a Chardonnay fermented in steel tanks—they call theirs  Baboon Rock—that I didn’t like at all.

More to come in Part 2

Cover-up of Talc Danger Finally Revealed; Johnson & Johnson Executives Should Go to Jail for Unnecessary Deaths

Johnson & Johnson is finally facing a reckoning for its deadly refusal to warn women about the use of talcum powder. Like the tobacco industry, Johnson & Johnson suppressed research about the danger and used its power to stop the U.S. Food and Drug Administration from taking action. The tale of this muscling the government is now out, thanks to the product liability lawyers suing the company, and the New York Times publishing the story based on its own investigation and the internal documents the lawyers forced the company to produce.

As I reported in several posts on this blog nearly three years ago, one of the leading researchers on ovarian cancer has estimated that 10% of all the cases--more than 2000 a year--are a result of talc powder use. In its response to petitions for warning labels,  the FDA acknowledged  that talc particles can enter a woman’s body via her vagina, and that such particles can cause ovarian cancer.  Nevertheless the agency refused, and continues to refuse,  to order a warning label because there is no “conclusive evidence.” 

Even the National Women's Health Network, usually a reliable advocate for women, refused to include a warning in its newsletter to women when I appealed to them to act in 2015. I'm a believer in the precautionary principle, a way of managing risk. When certainty is absent, but the risk is great, the prudent thing to do is give a warning. In the case of talc, advising people to stop using the product and switch to corn starch as a good substitute, is a no-brainer.

The Times story reveals that as early as 1971, a senior staff member at Johnson & Johnson warned the company that its talc could be contaminated with asbestos, a notorious carcinogen. 

Using Dr. Daniel Cramer's estimate of 10% of cases caused by talc use, that means that perhaps 100,000 women have suffered and most likely died unnecessarily since the company learned of the problem.

Johnson & Johnson is now facing nearly 12,000 ovarian cancer lawsuits, a fact that caused its stock to drop last Friday by 10 percent. 

Dropping stock prices and billion dollar injury verdicts are hardly sufficient penalty for Johnson & Johnson's callous disregard for women's safety. Those responsible should go to jail.##

On Being A Grandparent

The faces of your children and grandchildren are a living family tree. They put you in touch with your ancestors.

Some time after my oldest son, Eric, was born, I pulled out an old photograph, one of the few I have, of my father's mother. In it, she was younger than I'd ever seen her, and beautiful. I suddenly realized that her eyes and the top half of her face had been reproduced in the face of my beautiful son.  Wide apart eyes, squared perfectly on his face.

Now, my grandson's face fascinates me. People tell me he is the image of his father, and yes, I agree. But he also looks like his mother, and sometimes he looks like me. And a few days later, he looks different again.

The potentiality of a grandchild is so varied. Follow in Mom's or Dad's footsteps, yes, possibly. But also find bliss in doing exactly, more or less, the same sorts of things their grandparents did. I experienced this myself when I became a Unitarian Universalist and told my mother about it. She recalled that her mother, my Grandmother, had made a habit of getting dressed for church on a Sunday morning, but instead of going to the same church week after week, would set out and end up in a church she had never been to before. Unknowing, I had searched for and chosen a non-traditional, non-conformist religion just as she had apparently done in her own way.

When you have a grandchild, you become the generation holding the family fort against death. It's both a bitter understanding and a call to share your wisdom with this new being. Most definitely, it's a rite of passage.

Donald Trump's Cult of Personality

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For the past year, I’ve heard all the explanations of why about one-third of our population continues to support Donald Trump. Nothing he does or says shakes that support. Asked his view of Trump after revelations that he slept with a porn star just months after Melania gave birth to their son, Baron, an Evangelical leader said Trump gets a “mulligan” on that, a golf term meaning a do-over with no penalty.

I’ve spent some time trying to understand a relative’s continued support of Trump, pointing out the damage he has and continues to do to the environment, the poor, immigrants, our tax system, regulations designed to ensure our health and safety, his support of White Supremacists and on and on. None of it matters: he gets Mulligans on all that because Hilary would have been just horrible and we needed to “drain the swamp”.

So what is going on?

I think it’s time to consider the explanation that Trump has become the object of a cult of personality, crucially abetted by mass media including Fox, Breitbart News and the rest of the massive and powerful right-wing media. They portray him as always right, even when he contradicts himself, and worthy of a kind of worship. Cults of personality need not be religious. There are secular versions, but the leader is similarly the object of adoration even though he (and it has always been a “he” according to those who have studied the subject) is not religious at all.


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Am I going too far in saying Trump's followers “worship” him? I don’t think so. When Democrats failed to applaud his State of the Union address, Trump had the gall to call it treason.  This prompted Frank Bruni to write in the Feb. 7 New York Times that Trump’s “test of patriotism is this and only this: Do you worship me?” 

--> In his What is character and why it reallydoes matter, Thomas A. Wright wrote, "The cult of personality phenomenon refers to the idealized, even god-like, public image of an individual consciously shaped and molded through constant propaganda and media exposure. As a result, one is able to manipulate others based entirely on the influence of public personality..."


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We think of cults of personality as applying to dead leaders, most of them tyrants like Mussolini, Hitler, Stalin and Ferdinand Marcos of the Phillipines. Some were more benevolent figures like Mustafa Kamal Ataturk, who secularized the nation of Turkey and created a democratic Turkish Republic. And, perhaps, to Vladimir Putin, so admired by Trump.

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Trump’s cult of personality has not reached the level of any of these dictators, although Mike Lofgren, in the January 17, 2018 Washington Monthly, said, “The over-the-top image of Trump …is eerily similar to the cult of Joseph Stalin.” Thankfully, Trump has not been able to become a Joseph Stalin because we still do have independent, truth-telling media, and because defenders of our freedom are leaning heavily on the judicial branch of our government to prevent Trump from becoming a dictator.

But it’s not for lack of trying on his part, as we know from his firing of James Comey and his desire to fire Mueller. As psychologists have publicly pointed out, Trump is a classic narcissist, and narcissists share many characteristics with cult leaders:  It’s always us versus them. Outsiders are dangerous enemies, and this justifies extreme actions, like barring all Muslims from coming to the U.S.  Cult leaders answer to no one because they possess special wisdom, and their followers willingly see no evil, no matter what they do--even cozying up to Russia--as long as the cult leader is pursuing the goals they share with him, like ending abortion or cutting taxes on the rich. Even if the behavior violates prevailing standards for ethics and honesty, the cult followers don’t mind how many mulligans they give.

Because the cult leader is never wrong, there’s never a need to apologize, to the widow of a dead service member or his own wife, or so Melania’s behavior seems to be telling us. Questioning or criticizing the leader is punished, no matter how close the critic was before. Think Steve Bannon.

And so on, as detailed by Phd Dan Neuharth in his Psychcentral blog.

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Is there a cult of personality around Donald Trump? No other explanation fits the unshakeable loyalty of his followers. They hear no evil and see no evil no matter what he says or does, no matter how cruel or how selfish. And if he gets the military parade in Washington D.C. that he’s asked for, his full-blown narcissism will be there for all to see, with his followers swooning in worship.##

 

 

4,800 Lawsuits Claim Ovarian Cancer from Baby Powder

A recent article in the New York Times reported that there are now 4,800 lawsuits charging that repeated use of talcum powder for years causes ovarian cancer. I've been writing about this since 2015 http://theequalizerfcw.blogspot.com/2015/03/talcum-powder-use-may-cause-ovarian.html, prompted by the death of a dear friend and life-long talc user. 

The Times article said that “safety concerns (about talc causing ovarian cancer) are based on inconclusive science.” This is no surprise since talc use occurs over decades and cancer takes decades to develop. But why not a warning label while research—and lawsuits-- continue? In response to my FOIL request for its explanation for declining label petitions, the Food and Drug Administration actually acknowledged that talc particles can enter a woman’s body via her vagina and that such particles can cause ovarian cancer.

Harvard Professor Dr. Daniel Cramer told me in interviews that his research has convinced him that 10% of all ovarian cancer cases a year, about 2,000, are caused by talc use. Cramer is a Harvard Professor of Obstetrics, and Gynecology as well as of epidemiology and public health. He says talc causes a potent inflammatory reaction, and that inflammation is now believed to play a key role in cancer in general.

Given what is so far at least an association of talc use and ovarian cancer, mothers need to be told not to use talcum powder to dust their baby girls, and to avoid its use in their own genital areas. Cornstarch powder works as well. Not to provide a warning label is unforgivable and irresponsible given the terrible suffering of ovarian cancer victims and their families.