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From New Yorker

From Vox

So the FDA, seeing that there could be problems with the capability for HIV tests to be performed perfectly accurately at home, chose instead to allow no at-home tests to exist. Sounds familiar.

According to the Kaiser Family Foundation, more than 700,000 Americans have died from an HIV-related illness.

“Now, my view is that for people who have AIDS and cancer and heart disease, it’s always an emergency for them,” Tabarrok said. “Right? It’s always been like a pandemic for them. And now, I hope that people will come to appreciate the opportunity cost of more safety of FDA delay and apply this more broadly.”

Yes, the FDA’s sloth like action on rapid antigen tests is part of a history of antipathy, skepticism, and delay towards all home tests. The FDA banned HIV tests for 25 years, tried to regulate pregnancy tests as med devices before courts stopped them, slowed genetic tests etc…

— Alex Tabarrok (@ATabarrok) December 26, 2021

Maybe the FDA’s problem isn’t about risk tolerance

Scientist and writer Hilda Bastian disagrees that the FDA was too slow on vaccines. She has pointed out that the agency has moved pretty quickly relative to its normal vaccine authorization process. And that’s not the only thing Bastian finds a little unnerving.

“By the end of the year, Pfizer will have produced an estimated 3 billion doses, the most of any company,” she wrote in the Atlantic in August 2021. “That lightning-fast progress is awe-inspiring—and a little nerve-racking. … The FDA has to be thorough, especially with the first of a new type of drug with completely new production processes.”

A recent controversy over the FDA approval of an Alzheimer’s drug, Aduhelm, showcases the double bind the agency is in.

As Vox’s Dylan Scott has explained, the approval of the drug, which “came over the objections of [FDA’s] own scientific advisers, who cited a lack of evidence for the drug’s effectiveness,” has raised flags that innovation on future Alzheimer’s treatments will decline. Ultimately, Medicare decided to significantly limit which patients could receive the drug — according to the New York Times, officials “concluded that there remain significant doubts about whether the potential benefits of Aduhelm for patients outweigh the safety risks.” (A STAT investigation suggested troublingly close contact between Biogen, the drug manufacturer, and FDA officials.)

This episode pushes back against the narrative that the FDA is too conservative. Instead, it indicates that the relevant question may not be “how risk-averse is the agency?” but instead, “in what situations has it been willing to take risks?” In the case of Aduhelm’s approval, some have alleged that the agency has been too close to the pharmaceutical industry. But when it came to a worldwide emergency, suddenly an abundance of caution ruled the day.

And maybe, as physician Benjamin Mazer suggests, the problem is actually “the long-standing and gradual erosion of the agency’s scientific standards.” Mazer points out that 30 years ago, roughly 40 percent of drugs qualified for a regulatory shortcut, but by 2018, 60 percent of them did.

Whether the FDA’s caution is confined to its decision-making during the Covid-19 pandemic or if it suffers from a much deeper-rooted illness is still up for debate. At the very least, the scrutiny on the FDA demands a rethinking of whether the agency’s risk tolerance is in line with the nation’s best interests.

There’s some evidence to support this claim. An NBC investigation in Texas, a state that Friedman points to as the epicenter of the Ed Scare, found a significant uptick in book challenges near major cities:

Records requests to nearly 100 school districts in the Houston, Dallas, San Antonio, and Austin regions — a small sampling of the state’s 1,250 public school systems — revealed 75 formal requests by parents or community members to ban books from libraries during the first four months of this school year. In comparison, only one library book challenge was filed at those districts during the same time period a year earlier, records show. A handful of the districts reported more challenges this year than in the past two decades combined.

To be sure, these numbers do not tell us what percentage of these challenges were successful. But the big percentage increase over previous years is strikingly suggestive.

To understand what’s happening here, we need to look at the bigger picture of contemporary education politics in America. The intensifying push for book challenges at school districts isn’t happening in a vacuum.

The state level: CRT bans and “transparency”

There is currently a broader move on the American right against what they see as out- of-control “wokeness” in American education. Activist groups like Moms for Liberty, think tanks like the Goldwater Institute, and Republican politicians across the country have all focused considerable resources to push for greater censorship in K-12 schools.

This isn’t to say the school district-level book challenges are being coordinated at a national level; Friedman says many are flaring up on their own. Rather, cues from conservative national media and leaders appear to be inflaming grassroots passions — producing a phenomenon Sachs describes as “three different conservative educational projects … converging.”

 Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
An even mix of proponents and opponents to teaching Critical Race Theory are in attendance as the Placentia Yorba Linda School Board discusses a proposed resolution to ban it from being taught in schools in Yorba Linda, California, on November 16, 2021.

If book bans are the first of these projects, then “critical race theory” bans are the second — and arguably the more significant. In a recent report for PEN America, Sachs wrote that more than 120 such bills had been introduced in state legislatures since January 2021. Of these, 12 have passed in 10 different states, and more than 80 remain live in their respective statehouses.

Generally speaking, the aim of these bills is to regulate what teachers can do in classrooms. They often prohibit a set of loosely defined concepts related to race from being taught, on occasion specifically singling out certain texts (The 1619 Project is a common target).

Frequently, they aim to prohibit certain kinds of classroom activities that conservatives have become fixated on, like “privilege walks,” where students form a line and are asked to take a step forward every time the teacher mentions a form of social advantage that applies to them (setting aside how you feel about them — “privilege walks” have their detractors — it’s not clear how prevalent such exercises are in K-12 schools). Sometimes — as in Idaho’s bill, the first ban passed in the nation — they merely prevent teachers from “compelling” a student to affirm certain ideas about race.

As opposed to book challenges, which are bottom-up censorship with parents and local activists leading the charge across school districts, CRT bans are top-down — state-level rules, often influenced by model legislation drafted by national conservative groups. Yet while different groups and political actors may be pushing them, both types of campaigns are fueled by the same set of political ideas and circumstances.

Once again, Texas is a clear example of what this looks like in practice.

Book challenges began gathering steam in school districts in late 2020 and the first half of 2021. In September 2021, the statehouse passed its first critical race theory ban — a bill that required teachers to present “diverse and contending perspectives without giving deference to any one” in any discussion of “currently controversial issues of public policy or social affairs.”

This loose language has had predictably perverse consequences. One school district leader told teachers that “if you have a book on the Holocaust” in your classroom library, “you [make sure to] have one that has an opposing, that has other perspectives.” That the Texas law does not have explicit provisions on classroom libraries illustrates the problem: The broad wording, characteristic of many of these bills nationwide, sows fear and overreaction among teachers, librarians, and administrators.

In October 2021, Republican state Rep. Matt Krause sent a letter to school districts detailing a list of 850 books that he believed “might make students feel discomfort, guilt, anguish, or any other form of psychological distress because of their race or sex.” Examples include Ta-Nehisi Coates’s Between the World and Me, an Amnesty International adaption of the UN Declaration of Human Rights, and a picture book titled “Pink is a Girl Color” … and other silly things people say. Krause’s letter appears to have successfully prompted several book removals in Texas schools.

In November 2021, Gov.  Greg Abbott (R) ordered the Texas Education Agency, the Texas State Library and Archives Commission, and the Texas State Board of Education to “immediately develop statewide standards to prevent the presence of pornography and other obscene content in Texas public schools.” While that may seem anodyne, many saw it as coded language targeting literature that contained frank discussion of sexuality or LGBTQ identity.

“The fact that this is labeled as pornography is misleading,” Brandon Rottinghaus, a political scientist at the University of Houston, told Spectrum News Austin. “It’s clear that this is politically motivated.”

Finally, in December 2021, the statehouse passed yet another CRT ban. The new bill did not fix the vagueness in the first one that gave rise to an educator both-sidesing the Holocaust, but did contain new regulations on curriculum (like an explicit ban on requiring that students read The 1619 Project).

 Spencer Platt/Getty Images

“The 1619 Project: A New Origin Story” is displayed at a New York City bookstore on November 17, 2021.

And it’s not just Texas. Such efforts are under way across the country, with ambitious Republican politicians in states ranging from Virginia to Florida to Tennessee trying to capitalize on the political energy surrounding the Ed Scare. Their efforts appear to be escalating.

Recently, Sachs has begun tracking a third prong of this campaign — so-called “educational transparency” provisions being proposed in 2022 legislative sessions. The phrase “educational transparency” is a clever stroke — who’s against transparency? And many of the transparency provisions, including an influential model written by the Goldwater Institute, merely require schools to post their readings on publicly accessible websites.

But some, Sachs writes, are more egregiously panoptic:

In Florida, one lawmaker recently introduced legislation that would allow parents to scrutinize video recordings of their children’s classrooms for signs of “critical race theory.” Another in Mississippi wants to stream them live over the internet. And at least two bills in Missouri propose letting members of the public attend teachers’ professional development workshops.

One especially disturbing bill, Arizona’s HB 2011, goes even further. It amends the state’s law requiring parental permission for sex education to cover student participation in LGBTQ clubs. Schools now must “seek consent” from parents if a student attempts to join a club “involving sexuality, gender or gender identity”; it also requires that schools provide the group’s charter to parents as part of the permission process.

“The transparency bills are designed to surveil or monitor, almost in a Big Brother sense, what goes on in a school,” Sachs tells me. “It’s about surveilling these people in a way that makes them vulnerable to bullying and censorship.”

Christopher Rufo, a fellow at the conservative Manhattan Institute, made this strategy explicit in a series of tweets explaining his support that affirms Sachs’s concerns. “With curriculum transparency, every parent in the country can become an investigative reporter,” Rufo wrote.

The national level: The right’s illiberal turn

Stephani Bercu is a parent in the Leander Independent School District, a suburban district outside of Austin home to one of the earliest skirmishes in the current Texas book-banning offensive. In December 2021, after a year-long process, the Leander Independent School District officially removed 11 books from lists of acceptable material in optional student reading clubs.

According to Bercu, what she sees as a fight over free expression in Leander started earlier than most people think. She dates it back to the summer of 2019, when a local library announced that it would host Drag Queen Story Hour, an event where drag queens read books to children.

The event incensed local conservatives, creating so much controversy that the Leander library ended its sponsorship of the event altogether. A local progressive church rented out the library room to host the event on its own dime, even changing it to “Family Pride and Story Time” to come across more tamely.

This didn’t appease critics; when the event was held, roughly 275 protesters and counterprotesters showed up outside the library, even attracting coverage from the right-wing, conspiracy theory-promoting site InfoWars. In August, the Leander City Council effectively banned the event by prohibiting the library from renting out rooms in general (on grounds that the security costs for holding Family Pride and Story Time amidst protest were too high).

Bercu sees the ultimate success of the campaign as the beginning of a wider effort to control free expression in Leander. “[This is] where I think it starts for our city,” she told me.

What happened in Leander that summer was in some ways preordained. Earlier that year, in May, Catholic conservative writer Sohrab Ahmari came across a Facebook ad for a Drag Queen Story Hour in Sacramento. “This is demonic,” a clearly furious Ahmari tweeted. “To hell with liberal order.”

 Frederic J. Brown/AFP via Getty Images
Drag queens Athena Kills, center, and Scalene Onixxx arrive to awaiting adults and children for Drag Queen Story Hour at Cellar Door Books in Riverside, California, on June 22, 2019.

This rage powered a subsequent essay by Ahmari in the Christian magazine First Things, railing against what he saw as an unwillingness among cultural conservatives to use the law to establish their values. “Progressives understand that culture war means discrediting their opponents and weakening or destroying their institutions. Conservatives should approach the culture war with a similar realism,” Ahmari wrote.

What that looked like, in practice, was seen in Leander just weeks later.

Today, Ahmari’s essay is seen as one of the foundational texts for what’s called the “post-liberals” or “New Right” — a loose ideological group of conservatives who believe in the aggressive use of government to crush liberal influence over culture. Leading proponents of educational censorship, like Rufo, often fall into this camp.

This brand of conservative sees itself as standing athwart a liberal elite monoculture, where Hollywood, academia, and even Silicon Valley collude to push the country in an increasingly liberal direction. Its vehemence is driven by what the movement views as decades of political defeats on cultural issues from abortion to gay marriage.

Much like book challenges, this New Right is not entirely new. It’s a manifestation of a crusading zeal for culture war that’s always been a part of the conservative movement but became dominant in the Trump era.

But the resurgence of book banning on the right can feel a little discordant with conservatism’s other fixation: cancel culture.

To take an example in the realm of education, many conservatives for years have bemoaned the state of free speech on college campuses, alleging that professors and left-wing students shout down any right-wing viewpoints. In this conversation, they pose as champions of open discussion, even gaining support for some liberals.

There are profound differences in scale and scope between the campus speech wars and the ant-CRT campaign. The former tend to be unconnected eruptions on different campuses, events that are often overblown by a media fixated on elite colleges. The latter is an honest-to-goodness push to enact laws designed to censor teachers and restructure curricula along right-wing ideological lines (and influenced by model legislation from conservative organizations). That some on the right are existentially concerned about the former, while actively supportive of the latter, is revealing.

Though they mainly target K-12 schools, anti-CRT laws may also end up presenting a significant long-term threat to campus free expression. Some are worded broadly enough to restrict faculty rights; at Iowa State University, for example, the administration instructed professors that the state’s CRT law applies in classrooms. According to Sachs, roughly 40 new bills currently contain provisions that apply to higher education.

Whether this becomes a major problem for universities remains to be seen. More broadly, it’s not yet clear how effective the right’s new push to control education will be.

The book-banning campaigns, while objectionable, are hardly as widespread as liberals and free speech advocates sometimes seem to suggest. Most of the state-level CRT bans have only recently come into effect, making it too early to measure their impact on classrooms. It’s possible that requiring teachers to put reading lists on a website will not actually harm them, and that the more clearly objectionable rules pushed under the guise of “transparency” never become law.

But what’s undeniable is that the use of law to reverse progressive cultural victories has gained new purchase on the right. And education is the domain where they’re trying to show proof of concept.

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