Within 48 hours of my last post on the phasing out of pandemic relief programs, the Supreme Court issued a 6–3 ruling striking down the CDC’s eviction moratorium. As millions of Americans faced renewed risks from eviction, the story was easily buried on the back pages of major newspapers.
As the Delta variant surges throughout the United States, more than 3.5 million people living in this country face the prospect of eviction. And with last week’s shadow-docket action by the Supreme Court, the CDC’s eviction moratorium is no longer in force. It was a victory for real-estate owners, who argued that the moratorium is a harbinger of a vast pandemic leviathan “governing nearly all aspects of national life in the name of public health.”
Unsurprisingly, the legal dispute sidesteped a more important question: why was the eviction moratorium designed to expire before the pandemic ends, and before the federal…
[Note to the reader: this post is appearing after a few months ‘hiatus’, by which I mean following and writing about the politics of American federalism. You can read what I’ve been working on in the interim in a few articles in Policy & Society, Social Policy & Administration, Journal of Comparative Policy Analysis, Jacobin, Notes on the Crisis, and see a talk I gave in November at the Jain Family Institute.]
Even when federalism is explained to him, the man in the street does not care much about it one way or another. Is it, therefore, anything at all?
Note: I’m writing again after a few months of research on the politics of the COVID-19 pandemic in the US. Such work is an enterprise which, given the pace of events and the rate of change, has a dangerously short shelf-life and is necessarily preliminary. The standard caveats, and then some, apply.
In March, states rushed to impose new stay-at-home orders to slow the spread of the virus. Yet two months later, after establishing ‘gating criteria’ for reopening that were vague at best (“make the essential workforce safe”, “widespread testing”, “protect public health and safety, as well as the health…
Where political conflict is obscure, crises make celebrities. And in the American states — where politics is invariably (and tragically) obscure — crises make governors (in)famous. But for the Little Rock Nine, who would still recall the name of Orval Faubus? Without Katrina, the name of Kathleen Blanco might well be lost to history. During the Covid-19 pandemic, governors have been inescapable. More than inescapable, they have become a synecdoche for state politics. “Evers” and “Cuomo” now stand in for “Wisconsin” and “New York”.
The document was eighteen pages long, bearing all of the hallmarks of management consultancy: clean sans-serif fonts, wide margins, and above all, an irreducible vagueness. In it, the White House suggested that states should proceed to re-open their economies after meeting a series of “gating criteria.” A “downward trajectory of documented cases” over a fourteen day period, or a downward trajectory of “positive tests as a percent of total tests.” Were these the Trump administration’s recommendations? The evening news suggested as much. Yet the text that followed the asterisk, as ever, told a different story:
State and local officials may…
— Based on a paper given at a conference on Democratic Resilience, Cornell University, Nov. 2019
From time to time public attention is focused on scandalous situations in state government…These moments pass; state affairs recover their wonted obscurity and it is assumed that the wrongdoers have been exposed and punished.
Grant McConnell (1966)
The 2016 presidential election brought on a blizzard of foreboding announcements about American democracy. Yet as political scientists and pundits alike turned their gaze towards the spectacle of Trump’s Washington, fewer seemed as concerned about what was happening in places like Raleigh or Jefferson City. In fact…
piled over everyone,
everyone of us.
Stephen Malkmus, “Solid Silk”
I’m writing this after a walk along the Milwaukee River in dying pink sunlight. An election will be held on Tuesday in which thousands of people in this city will be crammed into only five polling places. Everyone knows the consequences of this and is calling for a delay. The Democratic Governor has attempted to avoid responsibility. He has deferred to courts, who can’t act, and the legislature, whose Republican leaders refuse to. …
The melancholy of having to count souls
Where they grow fewer and fewer every year
Is extreme where they shrink to none at all.
It must be I want life to go on living.
Robert Frost, “The Census-Taker” (1923)
It was built as a quartermaster depot during the Civil War. Later, it became a shirt factory. During the Korean War, parachutes and refrigerated trucks were manufactured there. But for the last sixty years, the massive complex in Jeffersonville, Indiana, close to the Kentucky state line, has been devoted to counting everyone in the US. …
“Now we in West Virginia want to embrace all and have people come from all walks of life when this is over — but right now, we don’t want you to come. And we want you to hear us: We don’t want you to come across our borders.”
Those were the words spoken today by Governor Jim Justice (R) — one of a handful of state officials issuing directives restricting travel across state borders in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. Proposals to restrict interstate travel, whether implemented or not, sit uncomfortably in the public mind — a threat to…