net.wars

The international comparisons that feature in every chart of infection curves are creating a new habit. Expatriates are unusually prone to this sort of thing anyway, as I've written before, but right now almost everyone appears to have some form of leader envy. Eventually, history will judge, but for now the unquestioned leader on the leader leaderboard is New Zealand prime minister Jacinda Ardern, who this week followed up her decisive and undeniably effective early action by taking a 20% pay cut in solidarity with her country's workers. Also much admired this week - even subtitled! - is Germany's Angela Merkel, whose press conference explaining that small margins in infection rates make huge differences when translated into hospital beds over time, was widely circulated for its honest clarity. Late yesterday New York state governor Andrew Cuomo appeared to have copied it for his own presentation.

Cuomo's daily briefings have become must-see-TV for many of us with less forthcoming leaders; they start with facts, follow with frank interpretation, and end with rambling empathy. Cuomo's rise - which has led many to wonder why he wasn't a presidential candidate - is greeted more cautiously among New York state residents and by those who note the effectiveness of governors Jay Inslee (Washington) and Gavin Newsom (California)). On Sunday's edition of Last Week Tonight, John Oliver said, "I never really liked Andrew Cuomo before this, but I will admit he's doing admirably well, and I can't wait to get to the other side of this when I can go back to being irritated by him again.". He may already have his chance: yesterday evening Cuomo announced he'd signed up McKinsey to plan a strategy for ending the lockdown. Meanwhile, in a tiny unrepresentative sample of local contacts "what world leader do you wish you had in this crisis?", the only British leader mentioned was Scottish first minister Nicola Sturgeon. Only the US federal vacuum can make us feel better about our present government.

One unexpected entertainment in this unfolding disaster is the peeks inside people's homes afforded by their appearances on TV or Zoom. I am finally getting to browse at least a small portion of the bookshelves and artwork or admire the ceiling cornices belonging to people I've known for decades but have never had the chance to visit. How TV commentators set themselves up is revealing, too. Adam Schiff appears to unfortunately dress his broadcast corner like a stage set. And one MSNBC commentator sits in an immaculate kitchen, the expanse of whiteness broken only by a pink dishtowel whose movements are fun to chart. Presumably, right before broadcast someone goes through frantically cleaning.

This year appears to be the Year of New York. Even before the pandemic, the first Democratic presidential primaries were (however briefly) dominated by three 70-something New Yorkers: Michael Bloomberg, an aristocrat from Manhattan's Upper East Side (even if he was nominally born in Boston), whose campaign ads were expensive but entertaining; Bernie Sanders, whom no amount of Vermont-washing can change from an unmistakable Brooklyn Jew; and Donald Trump, the kid from Queens. In the Washington Post in February - so long ago! - Howard Fineman highlighted this inter-borough dispute and concluded: "The civil way to settle this is to put Trump, Sanders, and Bloomberg on a Broadway park bench and let them argue politics while they feed the pigeons." Two months on, the most visible emerging US leaders in the pandemic are Fauci, Brooklyn-born of Italian descent; Cuomo, Queens-born, also of Italian descent; and Trump.

Fauci was already a familiar name to readers of what a friend calls "plague books". He has been director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases since 1984, and played a crucial role in the AIDS crisis (see Randy Shilts' 1987 book, And the Band Played On) and ebola epidemic (see Laurie Garrett's 1995 title, The Coming Plague), and on and on to today. When he emerged as a member of the White House task force, the natural reaction was, "Of course" and "Thank God". And then: "How old is he, anyway?" He is 79 and looks incredibly fit. Still, one frets. Does he have to be kept standing there mute for two hours? He could be sleeping. He could be working. He could be...well, doing almost anything else, more usefully. We are all incredibly lucky to have him and he should be treated as a precious resource.

The loss of things to go to that provoke ideas for things to write about has me scrambling around the Internet looking for virtual stand-ins. For those interested in net.wars-type issues (and why else would you be here?), the Open Rights Group is hosting a weekly discussion group on Fridays at 16:30 London time (that is BST, or GMT+1), and ORG offshoots such as ORG Glasgow are also holding virtual events. I can also recommend the Meetup group London Futurists, which is hosting regular discussions that sound crazier than they actually are. Further afield, I'm sampling events in New York at Data & Society, and in California, at UC Berkeley's Center for Law & Technology. Why not? Anything with live humans trying to think about hard problems, and I'm there. Virtually.

Illustrations: New Zealand prime minister Jacinda Ardern campaigning in 2017 (Brigitte Neuschwander-Kasselordner, via Wikimedia).

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. Stories about the border wars between cyberspace and real life are posted occasionally during the week at the net.wars Pinboard - or follow on Twitter.