Tag Archives: government

Ebola, Kaci Hickox, and Fort Kent, Maine

by Carrie Levesque

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Let’s be honest, what small town doesn’t love a little drama? A little controversy? The pot stirred? Something to keep the conversation hot as another cold winter approaches?

Normally, there’s nothing my hometown  of Fort Kent, Maine loves so much as some good gossip. But the media circus that has recently engulfed our isolated community of about 2,500, on Maine’s northern border with Canada, has been a lot for even the most seasoned gossips to handle. While the locals respect and admire the service that nurse Kaci Hickox has provided to Ebola victims in Sierra Leone, many are a bit less enthusiastic about her refusal to abide by a state-imposed quarantine to ensure that she has not been exposed to anything that could bring such a horrific disease to a small community with limited resources for fighting such an outbreak.

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Let me first say that I understand that Kaci Hickox is extremely unlikely to pose any threat to those around her. She is asymptomatic, and as numerous authorities on the issue have vigorously insisted (including the Centers for Disease Control and the New England Journal of Medicine), there is no scientific basis for ordering quarantine for asymptomatic healthcare workers returning from West Africa. Kaci Hickox, at this time, is not contagious.

But it seems to me that what Kaci Hickox is, is her own worst PR headache.

In her defense, her actions over the last week are understandable. She has been through an exhausting, emotionally draining experience that few of us could ever imagine—and that was before she touched down in Newark. What has happened to Hickox since she revealed to airport personnel where she had been and what she had been doing would certainly anger, frustrate and demoralize any of us.

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She was detained for hours at the airport and interrogated repeatedly, sometimes, according to her account, by people who didn’t bother to introduce themselves. She was tired and hungry from a transatlantic flight and given a granola bar and water for her troubles. After four hours of this, her temperature, recorded by a forehead scanner, registered 101. Her doctors at University Hospital in Newark would later concur: her ‘fever’ was the likely result of being flushed and upset. At all other times during her confinement, Hickox’s body temperature was normal.

I imagine you know much of the rest of the story. Her ordered confinement, her vow to sue for the violation of her civil rights, the invitation from the eloquent humanitarian Gov. Chris Christie: “Whatever. Get in line.” Her eventual release and escort back to Maine, where she first went into hiding in an attempt to avoid the networks that had already schlepped cameras and crew hours through the Maine wilderness to the town where the road ends, to her rural home in Fort Kent, ME.

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But here is where my empathy for Hickox’s story is tested. Not because she disagrees with the recommended 21-day home quarantine (Yes, “science,” I understand), but for her combative insistence on the rightness of her actions and for her repeated threats at litigation. For what I perceive as a failure to defend her laudable and legitimate interests while also addressing the concerns of the community with a bit more sensitivity.

The unavoidable fact is, whether there is a scientific basis for it or not, many people are concerned for their own safety and for the safety of their loved ones. Concerned for the “what ifs” in this situation which, while unlikely, are, as of this writing, still possible. In the absence of any guarantees, these concerns are understandable. Even if they should not be what drives policy—even if, in an ideal world, we could reason them away—it is not unreasonable to expect Hickox to acknowledge the feelings of the community when she makes choices about where she goes, and when.

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Having lived now in another culture for 2 years, it’s hard not to see the situation as characterized by a very American attitude that my individual rights are more important than the community’s peace of mind, that I will insist on my individual rights whatever the social consequences. As someone in my town said to a journalist friend of mine, “She’s holding this small Valley town hostage to a point of principle.” I think it’s worth asking why doctors returning to other countries are willing to submit to quarantine, but it becomes a civil rights battle in our country.

At the end of August, a Norwegian newspaper reported on the experiences of a doctor who had just returned home after serving with Doctors Without Borders in Liberia. He quietly quarantined himself at his family cabin for three weeks, waiting out the incubation period.

No drama, no fuss, no lawsuits, no government. Just simple concern for the community around him in an uncertain time.

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After all the fear that the media have stirred up around ebola (yes, even in Norway), including an article linked to the one cited above that ran with the headline “WHO: Ebola epidemic can infect 20,000 people,” is it honestly so surprising that people are not putting aside their fear so easily?

What’s more, as Hickox has witnessed firsthand the hell that so many others in less economically-developed parts of the world live every day, I have a hard time accepting the idea that home quarantine is a serious civil or human rights issue. That seems pretty insulting to the people who experience oppression (and global indifference) in their lives every day, circumstances that endure for much longer than 21 days. While we often discuss in my BLS courses the unfairness of comparing or ranking oppressive situations, I also think if we throw around the term “civil rights violation” too liberally, it ceases to be taken seriously. It becomes just another media sound bite.

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Yes, the situation is unfairly tough for Hickox because she is one of the early cases of her kind and states are still figuring out how to proceed. Yes, I support her demands that governors craft policies based on science and not fear, and that she be allowed reasonable freedoms, like her recent bike ride. But in the meantime, her situation is not Guantanamo Bay, and the current discourse has done little locally but escalate the drama and rhetoric, and, once again, distract us nationally from real human rights violations taking place every day.

My friend Julie Daigle, the local journalist mentioned earlier, said something that seemed to me very fair. “The thing is, she may in fact be making a point that needs to be made in the bigger picture, and in the long run, we may all be better off for her refusal to allow her behavior to be affected by the fears of those around her. But to castigate people for a very predictable response to having to face a sizable fear (again, regardless of how reasonable that fear is) and their clear understanding that she is choosing to ignore their fears is as demonizing an action as those seeking to cast her in the role of the witch.”

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I understand Kaci Hickox’s anger. I understand that she feels that she has already given enough—and in all fairness, she has given far more than any of us. She’s right. At the same time, especially in a small community, it is sometimes better to be generous and patient with a difficult situation. Even when we’re right.

___

Author’s update: Hickox responds to a judge’s order lifting the quarantine, and members of the Fort Kent community respond to the whole debacle.

I think my main concerns are still valid—that this whole media circus is avoided in cultures where people just put the concerns of their neighbors first from the start. What do you think?

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Shut Down

by Matt McKinnon

About a month and a half ago, I agreed—as part of my job—to write a contribution for the BLS blog, due by October 6th, and to be published shortly thereafter.  I agreed to this based on my understanding of what my job is, what it entails, the compensation I receive as a BLS instructor, and my belief that a community only works when its members participate in just that: a “communio” or sharing, from the Latin “union with.”  I made this agreement in good faith and free from constraint.  And, though some might argue this point, I made it being in sound mind and body.

But the situation has changed.

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(The first image would be here if I were not shut down.)

I am not happy with the present way in which the elected officials of the State for whom I work have conducted business regarding the educational system within which I work.  In short, I disapprove of the massive cuts to higher education that the North Carolina State Legislature has made over the past several years.

Never mind that these folks have been duly elected by a legal process and have conducted this business in a manner consistent with the Constitutions of both the State and the Nation.

Never mind that “legal” does not necessarily mean “fair.”

Never mind that there are regular procedures in place to check the manner in which they do this business—that there is constitutional recourse to persuade, recall, impeach, or merely vote them out of office at the next election.

Never mind that what they have done is now “law”—and has become “law” in a legal and constitutional manner.

Never mind all of this because…well, I just do not agree with them or their “law.”

(The second image would be here if I was not shut down.)

(The second image would be here if I were not shut down.)

And while I adhere to the principle that writing a blog entry is part  of my job, and that I have a duty to myself, to my institution, and to my students to faithfully execute the duties of my job, I have another principle that outweighs all of these:

If I do not get what I want, then I shut down.

(The third image would be here if I was not shut down.)

(The third image would be here if I were not shut down.)

At this point, I am not even sure what would make me not shut down.  Or stop shutting down.  Or start back up.

At this point, I am not even sure what I hope to get out of shutting down.  Other than the shut down itself.

But none of that matters.

Because I have shut down.

So, until further notice—until an agreement can be reached that satisfies the righteousness of my indignation at the manner in which duly-elected officials representing the State by whom I am employed have conducted business in a lawful and constitutional and regular manner—until then, there will be no blog contribution.

I will not fulfill this part of my job.  I have deemed it “non-essential.”

There will be no witticisms or anecdotes about me, my classes, my life, or my family.

There will be no funny or interesting or bizarre pictures to punctuate my points.

There will be no weblinks to follow for more information—at least none supplied by me.

There will be none of this.

Because I am shut down.

(The fourth image would be here if I was not shut down.)

(The fourth image would be here if I were not shut down.)

Of course, by shutting down and writing about how I am shutting down, I am still, technically, fulfilling some of my responsibilities and thus doing my job.  Therefore, I will continue to be paid and will continue to accept and spend my paycheck.

After all, shutting down is hard work.