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Tag: Emory University

  • ‘We’re just getting started’: Ruwa Romman on local canvasses, meeting voters where they are, crossing the state

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    Rep. Ruwa Romman (center) with Royce Mann (to her immediate left), staff, and volunteers at a Southwest Atlanta canvassing event on Saturday, November 15, 2025. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice

    As leaves fell off the trees near the basketball court and onto the parking lot at Melvin Drive Park, Team Ruwa Romman staffers brought out a folding table from the trunk of a car and placed it under a tree. Next came boxes of voting material and the t-shirts for canvassers. The shirts resemble the glowing signs of a certain local restaurant chain and are given to any volunteers who sign up to help spread the word. 

    Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice

    Romman, one of a handful of Democratic gubernatorial candidates vying for the 2026 nomination, was canvassing in southwest Atlanta on Saturday afternoon. Romman sat down with The Atlanta Voice moments before the first of several canvassers arrived to begin their shifts. She had already been canvassing in metro Atlanta’s northern suburbs and was back in the SWATS to talk with volunteers about why this part of the city was just as important as any to knock doors in. 

    “We want to canvas everywhere,” said Romman, who has plans to be in Athens and Savannah on Sunday. The Athens canvass will take place a day after the Georgia Bulldogs will host the Texas Longhorns in one of the highly anticipated college football games of the season. 

    Romman (center) will host canvassing events in Athens, Savannah, and Atlanta this week. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice

    Romman represents west Gwinnett County and can be considered one of the key candidates in her district, but canvassing in the SWATS can be considered a strategic move because of some of the other candidates being more familiar in the state’s largest county. 

    “Building a statewide canvassing operation takes a long time,” Romman said. “And we’re just getting started. I think this is how you gain momentum.” 

    Erica Wiggins, a tall woman wearing black-frame glasses and her hair in a ponytail, spoke to the group of volunteers, staffers, Romman, and Royce Mann, a candidate for Board of Education Seat 8, about Saturday being her first time canvassing for a candidate. Wiggins, who lives in Fairburn, said she came to the canvassing even to do her part.

    A woman who only identified herself as Ann was an experienced canvasser and said she decided to door-knock for Romman after hearing her on a podcast. Two male students from Emory University and Georgia Tech, respectively, were there to support Romman’s campaign and knock doors in the majority Black neighborhood. Neither of the young men was Black. 

    “These things grow exponentially,” said Romman of volunteer efforts. “The more we lean into people, the more they will have our back.”

    Romman said there have been nearly 1,000 volunteers who have signed up. People like the ones in Melvin Drive Park that afternoon. 

    “I remember when we first started, we hit 500 volunteers in 40-plus counties, and now we’re at 1,000. It really goes to show how much energy and excitement there is right now. How much heart and soul there is right now, and the fact that people really do recognize that our state is not being represented by people who live like us.” 

    “I think primaries are healthy, and a good time for people to organize and talk to voters,” Romman (above) said. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice

    Romman added that she wasn’t just talking about age and race. 

    When the subject turned to the 2026 gubernatorial primary, which is scheduled to take place on May 19, Romman smiled. 

    “I think primaries are healthy, and a good time for people to organize and talk to voters,” Romman said. “Primaries are an amazing time to consider what is possible.” 

    Team Romman, led by Anna, her field director, will continue to grow their canvass base week by week, said Romman. The campaign has only been at it for a month, and the momentum is growing.

    “We’re already in four cities,” she said. “Our hope is that come January, we want our organizers fully on board and hired on, and we want a consistent cohort of field leads.”

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    Donnell Suggs

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  • These Georgia universities are among the 50 best in the country

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    A new ranking of the country’s best colleges and universities has gone through 1,700 higher education institutions and determined which ones are top of the class.

    Georgia ended up with three universities ranked in the top 50 nationwide.

    According to U.S. News and World Report, Emory University is the best in the state, coming in at No. 24 on the national ranking.

    The report says that with a total undergraduate enrollment of just over 7,400 and a 9:1 student-faculty ratio, Emory University ranks among most of the other universities nationwide.

    It also mentions that the university has just a 10% acceptance rate, which is the 10th lowest in the country.

    Earlier this month, officials announced that starting with the fall 2026 semester, all students whose parents make less than $200,000 will not have to pay tuition.

    [DOWNLOAD: Free WSB-TV News app for alerts as news breaks]

    Next up on the list, the Georgia Institute of Technology in Atlanta ranked No. 32 overall.

    But if you remove private universities, Georgia Tech ranks in the top 10 for best public universities at No. 9.

    It was also ranked the third most innovative school.

    TRENDING STORIES:

    STORY 1

    STORY 2

    STORY 3

    But don’t worry, Bulldogs. The University of Georgia in Athens cracked the top 50 by coming in at No. 46.

    Just like Georgia Tech, when looking only at public universities, UGA rises higher in the ranks, coming in at No. 19.

    The report references UGA’s 767-acre campus and undergraduate population of more than 32,000 students, saying that despite having so many students, the student-faculty ratio is still 17:1.

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    If you’re not looking to stay in the Peach State, U.S. News and World Report says the country’s best universities are Princeton University, Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Harvard University.

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  • A Diagnosis, A Decade, and the Weight of Stigma

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    On a warm Florida night in May 2013, Christopher “Super” Green learned he was HIV-positive.

    “I got my diagnosis on a date, actually,” he said. “I was dating a guy, and we wanted to be intimate. He was studying public health, so we went to a clinic together.”

    The result stunned him. Just months earlier, he had tested negative. “I remember feeling like my world had ended,” Green said. “At this point, I felt like my life was over. No one was going to love me. This is it. Get ready. I have three years to live.”

    Christopher Green, 34, has been on antiretroviral medication since being diagnosed with HIV a decade ago. The medication provides a healthy life and suppresses the virus, so he is undetectable and cannot transmit it. Photo by Dyana Bagby/The Atlanta Voice

    Those early days were marked by fear and shame. Shame made him feel isolated, unwanted, untouchable. But Green’s best friend, T.J., promised to stand by him. That support, combined with meeting J.J.—a young, Black case manager who spoke his language and understood his experiences—shifted everything. J.J. inspired Green to pursue public health himself.

    Ten years later, Green is thriving. He works as a lead prevention navigator at Here’s to Life, a nonprofit in Atlanta’s West End serving men with HIV and substance use disorders. He tells his story openly because silence, he said, only fuels stigma.

    “For many people, the stigma is more dangerous than HIV itself,” Green explained. “It keeps people from getting tested, starting treatment, or reaching out for support.”

    Green’s story mirrors a larger crisis: HIV continues to disproportionately affect Black communities in the South, where systemic inequities drive persistent disparities.

    Structural Inequities

    Nationwide, more than 1.13 million people were living with HIV in 2023, according to AIDSVu, a project of Emory University. Those aged 55–64 made up the largest group, 26%. Black individuals accounted for 39% of people living with HIV—despite being just 12% of the U.S. population. The prevalence rate among Black Americans was seven times higher than among white Americans.

    The disparities start with prevention. In 2023, Black Americans made up 38% of new HIV diagnoses but just 14% of those eligible for PrEP, a highly effective prevention pill.

    “These systemic inequities are the main driver,” said Rashad Burgess, vice president of corporate responsibility at Gilead Sciences. “We’ve known this for a long time, and it’s still true today.”

    Rashad Burgess of Gilead Sciences said systemic health inequities are the primary driver of HIV disparities and the reason HIV disproportionately impacts Black communities. Photo courtesy Gilead Sciences 

    Atlanta is one of the nation’s HIV hotspots, with Fulton County reporting that Black residents account for more than 60% of new diagnoses, though they make up roughly 40% of the population. AIDSVu maps show the hardest-hit neighborhoods concentrated in southwest Atlanta and along the I-20 corridor, areas shaped by housing instability, limited transportation, and scarce access to culturally competent healthcare.

    “Having the ability to get a ride to a doctor’s office is key,” Burgess said. “If you’re unstably housed, it’s hard to stay on medications. And if you’re not virologically suppressed, you’re more likely to transmit the virus and your health outcomes decline.”

    Gaps in Prevention

    Access to PrEP remains one of the biggest gaps. Even when Black patients are engaged in healthcare, Burgess said, they are less likely to be offered PrEP due to provider bias.

    “What we find to be really successful are systems that routinize HIV screening,” he said. “That way, people know their status and, if negative, can be offered PrEP as a natural next step.”

    Longtime Atlanta activist Daniel Driffin said too many providers still refer patients to specialty clinics instead of prescribing PrEP themselves. Combined with high uninsured rates and Georgia’s refusal to expand Medicaid, many fall through the cracks.

    “We’re waiting for people to learn they’re living with HIV before we intervene,” Driffin said. “That’s a horrible place to be in public health.”

    Driffin and other activists launched a community-led prevention model to address the gap. Over 60 days, more than 150 participants helped design a program focused on three pillars: robust HIV testing, a pooled “people’s purse” to fund prevention efforts, and culturally resonant messaging.

    “We create a hand-holding situation until that person begins care,” Driffin said. “Community-led solutions alongside public health oversight ensure that people aren’t being forgotten.”

    Progress and Threats

    Medical advances have made HIV manageable. In 2023, 82.8% of newly diagnosed individuals were linked to care, 76.3% of people living with diagnosed HIV received care, and 67.2% achieved viral suppression.

    “You can live a normal life, have a normal lifespan, with your virus being managed by therapy,” Burgess said.

    But progress is fragile. More than 80% of CDC prevention funding supports state and local health departments through the federal Ending the HIV Epidemic initiative. Proposed cuts of nearly $1.5 billion to Medicaid and CDC budgets could erode years of gains, leading to more infections nationwide.

    The Weight of Stigma

    Even with medicine and prevention tools, stigma remains the hardest barrier to break, particularly in the South.

    “As a matter of fact, many argue stigma is the number one barrier,” Burgess said. “It impacts whether people access PrEP, whether they seek treatment, and whether they’re diagnosed late or with AIDS.”

    To shift perceptions, Gilead invests in campaigns featuring trusted voices—from faith leaders to barbershops to celebrities like Tamar Braxton, who has publicly shared her use of PrEP. Partnerships with Morehouse School of Medicine extend outreach to rural Georgia.

    “We have to normalize HIV prevention and care as part of overall wellness,” Burgess said. “That means visual representation, trusted messengers, and community-driven dialogue.”

    For Green, that mission is personal. Each time he shares his story, he chips away at the silence that once left him isolated.

    “I learned what care looks like from another Black man because he knew how to relate to me, how to pour into me what I needed as opposed to giving me just clinical information,” Green said. 

    “We often talk about the social determinants of health within public health spaces, such as housing, employment, and access to a phone. But we can’t leave out the most important thing, and that is the person and meeting them where they are.” 

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    Dyana Bagby

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  • Atlanta Honors 9/11 Victims in Mercedes-Benz Stadium Stair Climb

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    Photo by Tabius McCoy/The Atlanta Voice

    More than 500 veterans, first responders, and community members climbed 2,071 steps at Mercedes-Benz Stadium on Thursday morning to honor the 2,977 people killed in the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks.

    The second annual 9/11 Memorial Stair Climb, organized by Emory University’s Goizueta Business School, brought participants together to ascend 110 stories through the stadium stands, symbolizing the height of the Twin Towers.

    “We will never forget,” said Lorenzo Suarez, managing director of the Master’s in Business for Veterans program at Goizueta Business School and the event’s organizer. “Even though it’s been 24 years, we will never forget, and it’s important to bring everyone together.”

    The event drew a diverse crowd that included Atlanta police officers, firefighters, ROTC cadets, and civilians from across the metro area.

    Atlanta Police Assistant Chief Carven Tyus, who was an investigator assigned to the Special Victims Unit on Sept. 11, 2001, spoke during the opening ceremony at the stadium before the run, citing that he felt compelled to participate in the memorial climb.

    “I was at work when every television station went to what was happening with the Twin Towers,” said Tyus, who has served 32 years with the Atlanta Police Department. “It just gave us pause. It changed the way America looked at security.”

    The climb honored the 343 firefighters and paramedics and 72 law enforcement officers who died responding to the attacks, as well as all victims of the terrorist strikes in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania.

    Retired Maj. Gen. Matthew D. Smith, executive director of veterans initiatives at Emory University, served as the master of ceremonies during the opening ceremony, noted the unity displayed at the event contrasted with today’s political divisiveness. Participants encouraged their fellow man throughout the climb, with strangers & loved ones cheering on fellow climbers as they ascended the stadium steps.

    “The unity that existed in our country after the tragic events of 9/11 was really very special,” Smith said. “When contrasted with the divisiveness we see today, it’s something to strive for.”

    Photo by Tabius McCoy/The Atlanta Voice

    Smith, who started working at IBM in Atlanta on Sept. 4, 2001, said the attacks changed the trajectory of his life. He was called to active duty with the Georgia Army National Guard 15 months later for the invasion of Iraq and served almost 25 years on active duty.

    Mercedes-Benz Stadium donated the use of its facilities for the event, while BlackRock provided financial support to allow free participation. Other sponsors included Metropolis Parking and OneLife Fitness.

    The memorial even brought out those who were not yet born during the attacks, including University of North Georgia (UNG) ROTC cadets who said they participated to represent something larger than themselves and support the first responder community.

    Photo by Tabius McCoy/The Atlanta Voice

    Jaden Wilbur, a 21-year-old UNG senior, an infantry cadet in army, said the event represents unity in a divided time.

    “9/11 symbolizes us as a country coming together,” Wilbur said.

    Jordan Narhmartey, an 18-year-old UNG freshman studying to be a chaplain in the Army with plans to transfer to the Air Force, said the memorial held personal significance despite his young age.

    “I want to represent something bigger than myself,” Narhmartey said. “With the events happening on 9/11, I want to support my country even more.”

    For Tyus, the memorial serves a crucial purpose for future generations.

    “We have to keep this memory alive for the people coming behind us,” he said. “Some knew that they were never going to come down. So I would be remiss if I didn’t come here and just help keep that memory alive in some way.”

    Photo by Tabius McCoy/The Atlanta Voice

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    Noah Washington

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  • Former Spelman President Addresses Higher Education Crisis at Campus Event

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    Peril and Promise: College Leadership in Turbulent Times”(above) was made available for purchase before the fireside chat.
    Photo by Noah Washington/The Atlanta Voice

    Dr. Beverly Daniel Tatum, President emerita of Spelman College, launched her book tour on Wednesday evening. She discussed the challenges rocking higher education and the tough leadership decisions that defined her 13-year tenure at the historically Black women’s college.

    Speaking before a packed audience of students, alumni, faculty, and supporters at Spelman’s Camille Olivia Hanks Cosby Academic Center Auditorium, Tatum presented her latest work, “Peril and Promise: College Leadership in Turbulent Times.” The timing proved apt as moderator & WABE journalist Rose Scott for the fireside chat opened the evening by addressing breaking news about Emory University’s decision to eliminate its diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives, setting the stage for the conversation to follow.

    Bold Decisions and Health Priorities

    One of Tatum’s most controversial decisions during her tenure as Spelman’s president from 2002 to 2015 was discontinuing Spelman’s NCAA Division III athletics program in 2012. The choice sparked fierce debate but grew from genuine concern about student wellness during a pivotal moment in her presidency.

    The catalyst came during a sparsely attended basketball game as the Great South Athletic Conference dissolved around schools seeking more competitive opportunities. Tatum said, “I was sitting watching the basketball game, five players on the court, and five people, maybe on the bench, and hardly anybody in the stands,” Tatum recalled. “And while I was watching this game, I had an ‘aha’ moment and the little whisper said, ‘flip it.’”

    Tatum had discovered research showing young Black women had the highest rates of physical inactivity among all demographic groups, leading to early onset diseases like diabetes and high blood pressure. By investing in comprehensive wellness programs instead of traditional athletics, she saw transformational potential aligned with Spelman’s mission. By investing in comprehensive wellness programs instead of traditional athletics, she saw an opportunity for transformational impact.

    “We could change not only the trajectory of our students, but our students would change the trajectory of their families, their communities,” she explained.

    Learning from Leadership Challenges and Broader Patterns

    When asked about the correlation between Black women achieving the highest college graduation rates and changing attitudes toward higher education, Tatum offered her perspective on broader social patterns affecting academic leadership.

    “There’s a pattern of devaluing activities when they become feminized,” Tatum observed. “As campus communities have become more diverse, as there has been greater access on the part of people of color to higher education, there is less public support for it.”

    Her analysis of Claudine Gay’s treatment, Harvard’s 30th president, provided a specific example of these dynamics at work. Tatum noted the stark difference in public response when Gay resigned compared to Stanford’s president,  Marc Tessier-Lavigne who had stepped down six months earlier over similar academic integrity concerns.

    “When he stepped down, people didn’t call him a DEI hire,” Tatum pointed out. “People expressed regret that he was leaving, and that’s the difference.”

    Despite these challenges, Tatum emphasized the enduring importance of higher education’s mission, referencing a 1945 Truman Commission that identified three essential purposes: maintaining democracy, fostering international cooperation, and applying creative thinking to complex problems.

    “We need people who have an understanding of history, who recognize history when it’s repeating, who are able to think critically about the social challenges that are part of our democratic process,” she said.

    Photo by Noah Washington/The Atlanta Washington

    Leading Through Crisis

    During Q&A, Tatum shared the personal philosophy that guided her through multiple crises. Asked about courage, she reframed fear: “Fear stands for false evidence appearing real.”

    “It’s not that the fear goes away when you’re taking courageous action, even when you’re afraid. You act even in the presence of fear,” she said.

    This philosophy was tested during what she called “a president’s worst nightmare”, when responding to the killing of Jasmine Lynn,  a student at Spelman in September 2009. Despite staff assurances, she immediately returned to campus from Washington, D.C.

    “In a moment like that, you have to be there,” she said simply.

    The evening concluded with a book signing for attendees. 

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    Noah Washington

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  • Coming to a neighborhood near you: New Mobile Prostate Cancer Screenings made possible by Winship, AMBFF

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    On Tuesday, Sept. 2, 2025, the mobile prostate cancer screening unit, which is 38 feet long and has an exam room and lab inside, took up some space inside Mercedes-Benz Stadium.

    There will be more than an estimated 313,000 new cases of prostate cancer in the United States this year, according to data from the American Cancer Society. Of that estimation, nearly 36,000 men will die from prostate cancer.

    With 1 in every 8 American men being diagnosed with prostate cancer, getting screened for prostate cancer early can save lives. Black men have even greater chances of having their lives saved if prostate cancer screenings are more available.

    The mobile screening units would help make a difference for thousands of men who might or don’t want to make the appointments necessary to schedule screenings. The Winship Cancer Institute of Emory University and the Arthur M. Blank Family Foundation are taking steps to help with that with a new mobile screening clinic.

    The PSA screenings can be done inside the mobile unit and can be completed in 30 minutes. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice

    The mobile prostate cancer screening unit took up some space inside Mercedes-Benz Stadium on Tuesday, Sept. 2, 2025. It was on display for a media tour that morning.

    Several physicians were scheduled to speak to the media about what was next in terms of where it was going to be in metro Atlanta. The 38-foot-long unit has an exam room and a lab inside. The screenings are free, do not require patients to have medical insurance, and take 30 minutes from start to finish. Patients get their prostate-specific antigen (PSA) blood test results in the afternoon.

    The mobile unit will make 15-20 scheduled stops around Atlanta, including in Piedmont Park and Emory University’s campus.

    Dr. Kennard Hood is a family physician with Emory University, is the medical director for the prostate cancer screening unit. Hood, like many of the physicians and healthcare specialists that The Atlanta Voice talked to on Tuesday, believes PSA screenings and early detection will help saves lives. The mobile screening unit can make those screenings much easier.

    “If you can detect prostate cancer early, there is a better chance of finding a cure,” Hood, who also works as a family physician at an Emory University clinic in Henry County, said.

    The mobile unit has an exam room inside. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice

    “With this mobile screening unit, we can actually take this unit to the community,” Hood said.

    Emory Healthcare and Winship Cancer Institute Lab Technician Andre Posey II said being ahead of the game and accessible to the Black community will make a big difference.

    “We have to be proactive, not reactive,” Posey, a Chicago native, said.

    Posey’s great-grandfather died from complications brought on by prostate cancer, and he believes that not getting screening and the misconceptions of prostate screenings with the Black community led to his great-grandfather being less prepared for the fight.

    “I want the numbers to change for everybody, because it’s just a screening and not invasive,” Posey II said.

    According to research done by the National Institute of Health, Black men are disproportionately affected by prostate cancer.

    “Bringing prostate cancer screening directly into neighborhoods helps break down the barriers that too often keep men from getting tested,” said Martin Sanda, MD, Louis McDonald Orr Distinguished Professor of Urology at Emory University School of Medicine and director of Winship’s Prostate Cancer Program.

    Sanda leads the team running the screening initiative and told The Atlanta Voice that making prostate cancer screenings more convenient and accessible, “We can find the disease earlier, when it’s most treatable, and ultimately save more lives.”

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    Donnell Suggs

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  • It’s late October, Do You Know Where Your Polling Place Is?

    It’s late October, Do You Know Where Your Polling Place Is?

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    Georgia Senator Rev. Raphael Warnock (above, right) prepares to cast his vote at a DeKalb County polling station.
    Photo by Julia Beverly/The Atlanta Voice

    The polling places located across the state of Georgia were busy during the first week of the early voting period. Ranging from Oct. 15 to Nov. 1, the early voting period in Georgia saw a record number of participants during the first day in 2020 (136,000 votes cast), but that record was broken and more than doubled in 2024 with more than 300,000 votes cast on the first day. As of Sunday, Oct. 20, more than 1.3 million Georgians voted early. 

    Knowing where your local polling place is and what you need to properly vote early or on Election Day, November 5, is important to the process of a fair election. Fulton County, Georgia’s largest county, has the majority of the state’s 2,300-plus polling places

    A polling station in Savannah. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice

    The importance of easily accessible polling places has had an immediate impact on the current presidential election and local down ballot elections. As of Sunday, 160,676 ballots were cast in Fulton County, according to data provided by the Secretary of State’s online election data hub. The often-used phrase “know before you go” is going to be important in Georgia heading into the second week of the early voting period. 

    In Dekalb County, the fourth largest county in Georgia, 98,006 voters cast ballots during the first week of the early voting period. Georgia Senator Rev. Raphael Warnock cast his vote at a polling place on the campus of a local church where the nearest polling station was once inside the Gallery at South DeKalb mall before closing. The once popular polling place inside the metro Atlanta shopping mall recently closed, and thus the need for a new local polling place inside the auditorium at New Life Church. In a county Like Dekalb County where there are 509,896 registered voters, knowing where the polling places are is crucial. 

    A polling station in Decatur, Georgia. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice

    DeKalb County polling places:

    Berean Christian Church
    2201 Young Road
    Stone Mountain, GA 30088

    Bessie Branham Recreation Center
    2051 Delano Drive, NE
    Atlanta, GA 30317

    Beulah Missionary Baptist Church
    2340 Clifton Springs Road
    Decatur, GA 30034

    Briarwood Recreation Center*
    2235 Briarwood Way, NE
    Brookhaven, GA 30319

    Clarkston Library
    951 N. Indian Creek Drive
    Clarkston, GA 30021

    County Line-Ellenwood Library
    4331 River Road
    Ellenwood, GA 30294

    DeKalb Voter Registration & Elections Office
    4380 Memorial Drive
    Decatur, GA 30032

    Dunwoody Library*
    5339 Chamblee Dunwoody Road
    Dunwoody, GA 30338

    Emory University
    1599 Clifton Road
    Atlanta, GA 30322

    Greater Piney Grove Church
    1879 Glenwood Avenue, SE
    Atlanta, GA 30316

    Hairston Crossing Library
    4911 Redan Road
    Stone Mountain, GA 30088

    Lynwood Recreation Center
    3360 Osborne Road, NE
    Atlanta, GA 30319

    Neighborhood Church
    1561 McLendon Avenue, NE
    Atlanta, GA 30307

    New Bethel AMEC
    8350 Rockbridge Road, SW
    Lithonia, GA 30058

    New Life Community Alliance*
    3592 Flat Shoals Road
    Decatur, GA 30034

    North DeKalb Senior Center
    3393 Malone Drive
    Chamblee, GA 30341

    Salem-Panola Library
    5137 Salem Road
    Lithonia, GA 30038

    Stonecrest (former Sam’s Club) *
    2994 Turner Hill Road
    Lithonia, GA 30038

    Tucker-Reid H. Cofer Library*
    5234 Lavista Road
    Tucker, GA 30084

    Wesley Chapel-William C. Brown Library
    2861 Wesley Chapel Road
    Decatur, GA 30034

    Fulton County polling places:

    Adams Park Library
    2231 Campbellton Road SW
    Atlanta, GA 30311

    Alpharetta Library*
    10 Park Plaza
    Alpharetta, GA 30009

    Buckhead Library*
    269 Buckhead Avenue NE
    Atlanta, GA 30305

    C.T. Martin Recreation Center*
    3201 M.L.K. Jr Drive SW
    Atlanta, GA 30311

    Chastain Park Recreation Center
    140 Chastain Park Avenue NW
    Atlanta, GA 30342

    East Point First Mallalieu United Methodist Church
    2651 N Church Street
    East Point, GA 30344

    East Roswell Library*
    2301 Holcomb Bridge Road
    Roswell, GA 30076

    Elections Hub**
    5600 Campbellton Fairburn Road
    Union City, GA 30213

    Etris-Darnell Community
    Recreation Center
    5285 Lakeside Drive
    Union City, GA 30291

    Evelyn G. Lowery Library at Cascade
    3665 Cascade Road
    South Fulton, GA 30331

    Fairburn Annex
    40 Washington Street
    Fairburn, GA 30213

    Flipper Temple AME Church
    580 Atlanta Student Movement Blvd SW
    Atlanta, GA 30314

    Fulton County Customer Service Center at Maxwell Road
    11575 Maxwell Road
    Roswell, GA 30009

    Fulton County Government Center**
    130 Peachtree Street SW Suite 2186
    Atlanta, GA 30303

    Gladys S. Dennard Library at South Fulton
    4055 Flat Shoals Road
    South Fulton, GA 30291

    Grant Park Recreation Center
    537 Park Avenue SE
    Atlanta, GA 30312

    Heritage Hall at Sandy Springs
    6110 Blue Stone Road
    Sandy Springs, GA 30328

    High Museum of Arts
    1280 Peachtree Street NE
    Atlanta, GA 30309

    Hugh C. Conley Recreation Center
    3636 College Street
    College Park, GA 30337

    Joan P. Garner Library at Ponce De Leon
    980 Ponce De Leon Avenue NE
    Atlanta, GA 30306

    Johns Creek Environmental Campus
    8100 Holcomb Bridge Road
    Roswell, GA 30022

    Louise Watley Library at Southeast Atlanta
    1463 Pryor Road SW
    Atlanta, GA 30315

    Metropolitan Library
    1332 Metropolitan Parkway SW
    Atlanta, GA 30310

    Milton Community Center
    1785 Dinsmore Road
    Milton, GA 30004

    Milton Library
    855 Mayfield Road
    Milton, GA 30009

    North Fulton Service Center**
    7741 Roswell Road
    Sandy Springs, GA 30350

    Northeast Spruill Oaks Library
    9560 Spruill Road
    Johns Creek, GA 30022

    Northside Library
    3295 Northside Parkway NW
    Atlanta, GA 30327

    Northwest Library at Scotts Crossing
    2489 Perry Boulevard NW
    Atlanta, GA 30318

    Palmetto Library
    9111 Cascade Palmetto Highway
    Palmetto, GA 30268

    Robert F. Fulton Ocee Library
    5090 Abbotts Bridge Road
    Johns Creek, GA 30005

    Roswell Library
    115 Norcross Street
    Roswell, GA 30075

    Sandy Springs Library*
    395 Mount Vernon Highway
    Sandy Springs, GA 30328

    South Fulton Service Center**
    5600 Stonewall Tell Road
    South Fulton, GA 30349

    Southwest Arts Center
    915 New Hope Road SW
    South Fulton, GA 30331

    Welcome All Recreation Center
    4255 Will Lee Road
    South Fulton, GA 30349

    Wolf Creek Library*
    3100 Enon Road
    South Fulton, GA 30331

    Fulton County has designated days for students, teachers and staff at Atlanta Metropolitan State College, Georgia State University, and Georgia Tech to cast their ballots.

    Atlanta Metropolitan State College
    October 15 & October 16
    9 a.m. to 5 p.m.
    Edwin Thompson Student Center
    1630 Metropolitan Parkway SW, Atlanta, GA 30310

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    Donnell Suggs

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  • John R. Lewis Legacy Institute Brings Transformative CAMP PROMISE to Atlanta for the First Time at Emory University

    John R. Lewis Legacy Institute Brings Transformative CAMP PROMISE to Atlanta for the First Time at Emory University

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    Inaugural Event Aims to Equip Young Men with Essential Life Skills and Leadership Qualities Through Dynamic Workshops and Inspirational Speaker Forum

    The John R. Lewis Legacy Institute (JRLLI), founded by the family of Congressman John R. Lewis, is thrilled to announce the inaugural Camp Promise, Atlanta, taking place at Emory University from July 19 to July 21, 2024. Presented by The Same House, this camp aims to equip young males with essential tools for success, following the success of our first Camp Promise at Troy University.

    Camp Promise aims to inspire and empower young men to make meaningful choices and develop skills to become community leaders. This free learning opportunity offers comprehensive personal development through impactful workshops, including:

    • Real Talk: Honest discussions about challenges and opportunities.
    • Choices and Consequences: Understanding decision impacts.
    • Financial Literacy: Managing money wisely.
    • Health and Wellness: Promoting physical and mental well-being.
    • Leadership and Empowerment: Building confidence and leadership skills.
    • Workforce Readiness: Preparing for the job market.
    • Good Trouble 101: Embracing John Lewis’s legacy and making positive change.

    We are also introducing the JRLLI Speaker Forum, where inspirational leaders share their insights with the campers. The Speaker Forum will feature a diverse lineup of influential figures from various fields who will discuss their personal journeys, obstacles they’ve overcome, and the importance of leadership and community engagement. This forum aims to broaden the campers’ perspectives, inspire them to pursue their goals, and reinforce the values taught in the workshops. Each workshop provides a holistic approach to personal development, giving young men the knowledge, skills, and confidence to overcome challenges and succeed. Experienced instructors and mentors passionate about nurturing future leaders will facilitate the workshops.

    “We are honored to bring Camp Promise to Atlanta, continuing the legacy of Congressman John Lewis by empowering young men with tools to make positive changes in their lives and communities,” said Garry Lowe, Vice Chair of the John R. Lewis Legacy Institute. “Our goal is to inspire these young men to become tomorrow’s leaders, equipped with the confidence and skills to navigate their futures successfully.”

    Jerrick Lewis, Executive Director of the John R. Lewis Legacy Institute, highlighted the significance of hosting Camp Promise in Troy, AL, the hometown of John Lewis. “Hosting Camp Promise in Troy was deeply meaningful, as it is John Lewis’s hometown. This camp not only honors his life’s work but also provides a transformative opportunity for young men to follow in his footsteps and become agents of change. We are excited to bring this experience to Emory University, continuing to inspire and empower young men in John Lewis’s legacy.”

    Event Details:

    • Dates: July 19 – July 21, 2024
    • Location: Emory University’s Goizueta Business School, Atlanta, GA
    • Registration: Free for rising 9th to 12th graders

    With the support of corporate and community partners such as The Same House, Emory University’s Goizueta Business School, Georgia Power, Chick-Fil-A, Kaiser Permanente, Usher’s New Look, and Warrick Dunn Charities, Camp Promise is poised to make a significant impact.

    “We are proud to support Camp Promise and the John R. Lewis Legacy Institute in their mission to empower the next generation of leaders. This initiative aligns with our commitment to community development and education,” said Rodney Bullard, CEO of The Same House.

    The John R. Lewis Legacy Institute, founded by the family of Congressman John R. Lewis, is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit dedicated to promoting diversity, civil rights education, and community service. The Institute aims to inspire and empower the next generation of leaders through education, mentorship, and community engagement. Camp Promise is a key initiative supporting young men’s growth and development.

    Source: John R. Lewis Legacy Institute

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  • Lupus Awareness Month: Georgia Chapter of Lupus Foundation supports those affected by the disease

    Lupus Awareness Month: Georgia Chapter of Lupus Foundation supports those affected by the disease

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    Lupus is an autoimmune disease that affects thousands of individuals across the country. It can impact multiple parts of the body and cause severe internal damage. There isn’t a cure for this disease, and it imposes a significant emotional and financial toll on family members of people with Lupus. The Lupus Foundation of America (LFA) Georgia Chapter supports everyone affected by this issue. The organization offers assistance to those in need through various channels. May is Lupus Awareness Month, and the organization has planned activities for the rest of the month to allow locals to show their support for the Lupus community.

    “We should all care about this because anybody can get lupus. We should serve those who need to be served, and lupus is a very underserved population,” said Teri Emond, President and CEO of the Lupus Foundation of America, Georgia Chapter.

    May is Lupus Awareness Month background template. Holiday concept.

    The Lupus Foundation of America Georgia Chapter has been serving the community since 1978. Through advocacy, fundraising, and research, the organization has provided support to those dealing with the disease and their family members. In observance of Lupus Awareness Month in May, the chapter organized several events. On Saturday, May 18, the chapter hosted a Lupus walk in Augusta, GA, where Morehouse School of Medicine presented the latest research on Lupus. Additionally, Georgia chapter members traveled to Washington, D.C., from May 19 to May 21 to advocate for more funding for Lupus research at the national advocacy summit.

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    Clayton Gutzmore

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  • University Protests: The Latest at Colleges Beyond Columbia

    University Protests: The Latest at Colleges Beyond Columbia

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    A protester detained at Emory University in Atlanta.
    Photo: Elijah Nouvelage/AFP

    As college students demand divestment from Israel and take up other pro-Palestine causes on campuses around the country, police crackdowns have followed in quick succession. Last week, Columbia University president Minouche Shafik allowed the NYPD onto campus last week to arrest students at the school’s Gaza Solidarity Encampment; since then, similar encampments have cropped up at many colleges and universities, despite universities’ efforts to dismantle them. Below, updates on where the protest movement is spreading and how the sometimes-violent backlash is playing out.

    On Saturday morning, police cleared an encampment of protesters which was set up on Thursday on the Centennial Common at Northeastern, with the demonstrators calling for a cease fire in Gaza and for the university to divest from its financial ties with Israel. Police arrested 100 people, but there were no reports of violence. The university said it decided to clear the encampment due to the arrival of outside agitators and the use of hate speech:

    What began as a student demonstration two days ago, was infiltrated by professional organizers with no affiliation to Northeastern. Last night, the use of virulent antisemitic slurs, including “Kill the Jews,” crossed the line. We cannot tolerate this kind of hate on our campus.

    The school also said that anyone who produced a valid Northeastern ID was quickly released and will not face legal action.

    More than 30 students were arrested at Indiana University late on Thursday, and a dozen were arrested at Ohio State University. At both schools, students claimed there were snipers stationed on campus rooftops, though the Ohio State administration stated that these were state police officers working as spotters, which the school also employs during football games.

    Some of the most violent crackdowns took place at Emory University in Atlanta on Thursday, where videos showed police bringing students to the ground to detain them; a total of 28 people were arrested. Students, who were also protesting the university’s involvement in a police-training facility known as “Cop City,” allege that police used tear gas to disperse the crowd. One clip shows police Tasing a student who is already handcuffed and on the ground:

    Among those arrested was the chair of Emory’s philosophy department:

    Over 100 people were arrested early on Thursday morning at Emerson College, where a student encampment had been in place since Sunday in an alley on Boylston Street at the edge of campus. Prior to raiding the camp, the Boston Police Department informed students that they were violating city laws around camping on city streets. Students attempted to stop the police in riot gear, leading to police “dragging people out,” according to one Emerson student who spoke with CBS News. BPD states that four officers were injured in the process.

    The Los Angeles Police Department states that 93 demonstrators were arrested for trespassing at the University of Southern California — not usually a hotbed of protest — where students set up an encampment on Wednesday. After the arrests, USC became the first major school to cancel its main graduation ceremony this year.

    At the University of Texas at Austin, state police on horseback and in riot gear arrested more than 50 protesters on Wednesday. A photographer for the local Fox affiliate was also arrested in the chaos:

    The demonstrations grew in size after cops cracked down, not an uncommon ocurrence:

    On Friday, the Travis County attorney’s office said it would drop criminal trespassing charges against all 57 people officers had detained. KUT reports that those arrested will not be allowed back on campus for the remainder of the school year.

    When the NYPD broke up an encampment at NYU on Monday night, they arrested more than 100 students and almost 20 professors. Soon after, NYU set up a large plywood barricade to block access to the former encampment area in Gould Plaza on West 4th Street.

    After the arrests, the dean of students at NYU reportedly emailed at least one student who was detained to offer support “processing this distressing experience.” The email also stated that the school recognizes “that you might not be ready to connect or find it helpful — and that is okay.”

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    Matt Stieb,Chas Danner

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  • How Biden Might Recover

    How Biden Might Recover

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    A press release that President Joe Biden’s reelection campaign issued last week offered a revealing window into his advisers’ thinking about how he might overcome widespread discontent with his performance to win a second term next year.

    While the release focused mostly on portraying former President Donald Trump as a threat to legal abortion, the most telling passage came when the Biden campaign urged the political press corps “to meet the moment and responsibly inform the electorate of what their lives might look like if the leading GOP candidate for president is allowed back in the White House.”

    That sentence probably says as much as any internal strategy memo about how Biden’s team plans to win a second term, especially if the president faces a rematch with Trump. With that exhortation the campaign made clear that it wants Americans to focus as much on what Trump would do with power if he’s reelected as on what Biden has done in office.

    It’s common for presidents facing public disappointment in their performance to attempt to shift the public’s attention toward their rival. All embattled modern first-term presidents have insisted that voters will treat their reelection campaign as a choice, not a referendum. Biden is no exception. He routinely implores voters to compare him not “to the Almighty” but “to the alternative.”

    But it hasn’t been easy for modern presidents to persuade large numbers of voters disenchanted with their performance to vote for them on the theory that the electorate would like the alternative less. The other recent presidents with approval ratings around Election Day as low as Biden’s are now were Jimmy Carter in 1980 and George H. W. Bush in 1992. Both lost their bids for a second term. Continued cooling of inflation might allow Biden to improve his approval rating, which stands around 40 percent in most surveys (Gallup’s latest put it at only 37 percent). But if Biden can’t make big gains, he will secure a second term only if he wins more voters who are unhappy with his performance than any president in modern times.

    The silver lining for Biden is that in Trump he has a polarizing potential opponent who might allow him to do just that. In the 2022 and 2023 elections, a crucial slice of voters down on the economy and Biden’s performance voted for Democrats in the key races anyway, largely because they viewed the Trump-aligned GOP alternatives as too extreme. And, though neither the media nor the electorate is yet paying full attention, Trump in his 2024 campaign is regularly unveiling deeply divisive policy positions (such as mass deportation and internment camps for undocumented immigrants) and employing extremist and openly racist language (echoing fascist dictators such as Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini in describing his political opponents as “vermin”). Eventually, Trump’s excesses could shape the 2024 election as much as Biden’s record will.

    If the GOP renominates Trump, attitudes about the challenger might overshadow views about the incumbent to an unprecedented extent, the veteran GOP pollster Bill McInturff believes. McInturff told me that in his firm’s polling over the years, most voters usually say that when a president seeks reelection, their view about the incumbent is what most influences their decision about whom to support. But in a recent national survey McInturff’s firm conducted with a Democratic partner for NBC, nearly three-fifths of voters said that their most important consideration in a Trump-Biden rematch would be their views of the former president.

    “I have never seen a number like this NBC result between an incumbent and ‘challenger,’” McInturff told me in an email. “If 2024 is a Biden versus Trump campaign, we are in uncharted waters.”

    Through the last decades of the 20th century, the conventional wisdom among campaign strategists was that most voters, contrary to what incumbents hoped, viewed presidential elections primarily as a referendum, not a choice. Buffeted by disappointment in their tenure, both Carter and Bush decisively lost their reelection bids despite their enormous efforts to convince voters that their opponent could not be trusted with power.

    In this century, it’s become somewhat easier for presidents to overcome doubts about their performance by inflaming fears about their rival. Barack Obama in 2012 and George W. Bush in 2004 had more success than Carter and the elder Bush at both mobilizing their core supporters and attracting swing voters by raising doubts about their opponent.

    Alan Abramowitz, an Emory University political scientist, said the principal reason presidents now appear more capable of surviving discontent about their performance is the rise of negative partisanship. That’s the phrase he and other political scientists use to describe a political environment in which many voters are motivated primarily by their belief that the other party represents an unacceptable threat to their values and vision of America. “Emphasizing the negative results of electing your opponent has become a way of unifying your party,” Abramowitz told me.

    While more voters than in the past appear willing to treat presidential reelections as a choice rather than a referendum, Biden may need to push this dynamic to a new extreme. Obama and Bush both had approval ratings right around 50 percent in polling just before they won reelection; that meant they needed to convince only a slice of voters ambivalent about them that they would be even more unhappy with their opponent.

    Biden’s approval rating is much lower, and he is even further behind the majority approval enjoyed by Bill Clinton in 1996 and Ronald Reagan in 1984 before they won decisive reelections.

    Those comparisons make clear that one crucial question confronting Biden is how much he can improve his own standing over the next year. The president has economic achievements he can tout to try to rebuild his support, particularly an investment boom in clean energy, semiconductors, and electric vehicles tied to the trio of major bills he passed. Unemployment is at historic lows, and in recent months wages have begun rising faster than prices. The latest economic reports show that inflation, which most analysts consider the primary reason for the public discontent with his tenure, is continuing to moderate.

    All of these factors may lift Biden, but probably only modestly. Even if prices for gas, groceries, and rent stop rising, that doesn’t mean they will fall back to the levels they were at when Biden took office. Voters appear unhappy not only about inflation, but about the Federal Reserve Board’s cure of higher interest rates, which has made it harder to purchase homes and cars and to finance credit-card debt. Biden also faces the challenge that some portion of his high disapproval rating is grounded not in dissatisfaction over current conditions, but in a belief that he’s too old to handle the job for another term. Better economic news won’t dispel that doubt.

    For all of these reasons, while Biden may notch some improvement, many strategists in both parties believe that it will be exceedingly difficult for him to restore his approval rating to 50 percent. Historically, that’s been viewed as the minimum for a president seeking reelection. But that may no longer be true. The ceiling on any president’s potential job rating is much lower than it once was because virtually no voters in the other opposition party now ever say they approve of his performance. In that environment, securing approval from at least half of the country may no longer be necessary for an incumbent seeking reelection.

    Jim Messina, the campaign manager for Barack Obama’s 2012 reelection, reflected the changing thinking when he told me he does not believe that Biden needs to reach majority approval to win another term. “I don’t think it’s a requirement,” Messina said. “It might be if we are dealing with an open race with two nonpresidents. People forget that they are both incumbents. Neither one of them is going to get to 50 percent in approval. What you are trying to drive is the choice.”

    For Biden, the key group could be voters who say they disapprove of his performance in office, but only “somewhat,” rather than “strongly.” The Democrats’ unusually good showing among those “somewhat” disapproving voters was a central reason the party performed unexpectedly well in the 2022 midterm election. But in an NBC national survey released earlier this week, Trump narrowly led Biden among those disenchanted voters, a result more in line with historic patterns.

    Biden may have an easier time recapturing more of those somewhat negative voters by raising doubts about Trump than by resolving their doubts about his own record. Doug Sosnik, the chief White House political adviser for Bill Clinton during his 1996 reelection campaign, told me that it would be difficult for Biden to prevail against Trump if he can’t improve his approval ratings at least somewhat from their current anemic level. But if Biden can lift his own approval just to 46 or 47 percent, Sosnik said, “he can get the remaining points” he would need to win “pretty damn easily off of” resistance to Trump.

    Current polling is probably not fully capturing that resistance, because Trump’s plans for a second term have received relatively little public attention. On virtually every front, Trump has already laid out a much more militantly conservative and overtly authoritarian agenda than he ran on in 2016 or 2020. His proposals include the mass deportation of and internment camps for undocumented immigrants, gutting the civil service, invoking the Insurrection Act to quash public protests, and openly deploying the Justice Department against his political enemies. If Trump is the GOP nominee, Democratic advertising will ensure that voters in the decisive swing states are much more aware of his agenda and often-venomous rhetoric than they are today. (The Biden campaign has started issuing near-daily press releases calling out Trump’s most extreme proposals.)

    But comparisons between the current and former presidents work both ways. And polls show that considerable disappointment in Biden’s performance is improving the retrospective assessment of Trump’s record, particularly on the economy.

    In a recent national poll by Marquette University Law School, nearly twice as many voters said they trusted Trump rather than Biden to handle both the economy and immigration. The Democratic pollster Stanley B. Greenberg released a survey last week of the nine most competitive presidential states, in which even the Democratic “base of Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, LGBTQ+ community, Gen Z, millennials, unmarried and college women give Trump higher approval ratings than Biden.” Among all voters in those crucial states, the share that said they thought Trump did a good job as president was nearly 10 percentage points higher than the group that gives Biden good grades now.

    Poll results such as those scare Democratic strategists perhaps more than any other; they indicate that some voters may be growing more willing to accept what they didn’t like about Trump (chaos, vitriol, threats to democracy) because they think he’s an antidote for what they don’t like about Biden (his results on inflation, immigration, and crime.) Jim McLaughlin, a Trump-campaign pollster, told me earlier this year that because of their discouragement with Biden’s record, even some voters who say “I may not love the guy” are growing newly receptive to Trump. “The example I had people use is that he is like your annoying brother-in-law that you can’t stand but you know at the end of the day he’s a good husband, he’s a good father,” McLaughlin said.

    The problem for Trump’s team is that he constantly pushes the boundaries of what the public might accept. Holding his strong current level of support in polls among Hispanics, for instance, may become much more difficult for Trump after Democrats spend more advertising dollars highlighting his plans to establish internment camps for undocumented immigrants, his refusal to rule out reprising his policy of separating migrant children from their parents, and his threats to use military force inside Mexico. Trump’s coming trials on 91 separate criminal charges will test the public’s tolerance in other ways: Even a recent New York Times/Siena College poll showing Trump leading Biden in most of the key swing states found that the results could flip if the former president is convicted.

    Trump presents opponents with an almost endless list of vulnerabilities. But Biden’s own vulnerabilities have lifted Trump to a stronger position in recent polls than he achieved at any point in the 2020 race. These polls aren’t prophecies of how voters will make their decisions next November if they are forced to choose again between Biden and Trump. But they are a measure of how much difficult work Biden has ahead to win either a referendum or a choice against the man he ousted four years ago.

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    Ronald Brownstein

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  • An Adorable Way to Study How Kids Get Each Other Sick

    An Adorable Way to Study How Kids Get Each Other Sick

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    At the start of 2022, as the Omicron variant of the coronavirus blazed across the United States, Seema Lakdawala was in Pittsburgh, finalizing plans to open a brand-new day care. She had found the perfect facility and signed the stack of paperwork; she had assembled a hodgepodge of plushies, puzzles, and toys. It was the perfect setup, one that “I’ve been dreaming about for years,” Lakdawala, a virologist at Emory University, told me. She couldn’t help but swell with pride, later that spring, when she ushered in her establishments’ first attendees: five young ferrets—including one deliberately infected with the flu.

    Over the next several months, Lakdawala and her colleagues watched several cohorts of ferrets ping-pong flu viruses back and forth as they romped and wrestled and frolicked inside of a shared playpen. The researchers meticulously logged the ferrets’ movements; they took note of the surfaces and other animals that each one touched. Their early findings, now being prepared for publication in a scientific journal, could help researchers figure out how flu viruses most efficiently spread in group settings—not just among ferrets, but among human kids.

    Aerosols, droplets, face-to-face contact, contaminated surfaces—there are plenty of ways for flu viruses to spread. But the nitty-gritty of flu transmission remains “pretty much a black box,” says Aubree Gordon, an epidemiologist at the University of Michigan. Despite decades of research, “we really don’t know the relative importance of each potential route.” Now, though, ferrets in playpens could help researchers to tease out those dynamics—and even, someday, to design flu-blocking measures for bona fide day cares.

    Ferrets have long been the “gold standard for influenza infection and transmission,” says Nicole Rockey, an environmental engineer at Duke University who led the experiments with Lakdawala. The animals’ airway architecture is uncannily similar to ours, and unlike most lab mice, ferrets are vulnerable to catching and passing on flu viruses—even developing the same coughy, sniffly symptoms that so many humans do. But most flu-transmission experiments in ferrets remain limited to artificial circumstances: pairs of animals in tiny cages with dividers between them, where scientists ogle them inhaling each other’s air for days or even weeks. That’s not how animals catch one another’s infections in the wild, and it’s certainly not how human outbreaks unfold. “We don’t interact with each other for 48 hours straight through a perforated wall,” Rockey told me.

    A giant playpen outfitted with toys, air samplers, and video cameras isn’t exactly a natural habitat for a ferret. But the setup does tap into many of the animals’ impish instincts. Domesticated by humans over thousands of years, ferrets “are a very playful species, and they love to be social,” says Alice Dancer, an animal-welfare researcher at the University of London’s Royal Veterinary College. That makes them great models for not just flu transmission, but flu transmission among kids, who are thought to be major drivers of outbreaks. In their day care, the ferrets squabble over toys, clamber up play structures, and canoodle plush snakes; they chase one another around, and nap in big piles when they get tuckered out; they exchange affectionate nuzzles, bonks, and little play bites. Every interaction represents a potential transmission event; so, too, do the surfaces they touch, and the shared pockets of air from which they all breathe.

    Already, the researchers have collected some results that, Lakdawala told me, are “changing the way I think about transmission a little bit.” In one early experiment, involving an infected animal cavorting with four uninfected ones, they were surprised to find that the ferret with the least direct contact with the flu “donor” was the only “recipient” in the room who got sick. It seemed counterintuitive, Lakdawala told me, until video footage revealed that the newly sickened recipient had been copying everything that the donor did—chewing the toys it chewed, rolling the balls it rolled, swiping the surfaces it swiped. It was as if the first ferret was leaving a trail of infectious breadcrumbs for the second one to snarf. If that finding holds up in other experiments, which the researchers are analyzing now, it could suggest that contaminated surfaces, or fomites, are playing a larger-than-expected role in passing the virus around, Rockey told me.

    Another of the team’s early findings points to a similar notion. When the researchers cranked up the ventilation in their ferret day cares, hoping to clear virus particles out of the air, they found that the same proportion of uninfected ferrets ended up catching the virus. This was disappointing, but not a total shock given how paws-on ferrets—and kids, for that matter—are with one another and their surroundings. It didn’t matter if the air in the room was being exchanged more than once every three minutes. Whenever the ferrets had their run of the room, the researchers would find virus particles smeared on the toys, the snack station, and the playpen walls.

    Ventilation wasn’t totally useless: More air exchanges, the team found, did seem to reduce the concentration of flu genetic material in the air, and the ferrets who got infected under those conditions were slower to start shedding the virus—a hint, Lakdawala thinks, that they might have taken in a lower infectious dose. Among humans, that might translate into less severe cases of disease, Gordon told me, though that would need to be confirmed.

    Whatever upshots Rockey and Lakdawala’s ferret findings might have for human day cares won’t necessarily apply to other venues. In offices, hospitals, and even schools for older kids, people are generally a lot less tactile with one another, and a lot better versed on hygiene. Plus, adult bodies just aren’t built like kids’, says Cécile Viboud, an epidemiologist at the Fogarty International Center at the National Institutes of Health. Their airways are bigger, stronger, and more developed—and some experiments suggest that, for at least some respiratory viruses, the older and larger people are, the more infectious aerosols they might expel. For adults, ventilation may matter all the more.

    Lakdawala and her colleagues are still mulling some other interventions that might work better for ferrets, and eventually kids: humidifiers, air purifiers, targeted cleaning, maybe even keeping individuals from crowding too closely into a portion of the playpen. (They don’t plan to experiment with handwashing or masking; imagine the difficulty of strapping an N95 to a ferret’s face.) Lakdawala is also mulling whether surfaces made of copper—which her team has shown can render flu viruses inactive within minutes—could play a protective role.

    But everything that happens in the ferrets’ playpens will still come with caveats. “It’s still an animal model, at the end of the day,” Viboud told me. For all the similarities between the ferret airway and ours, the way their little noses and snouts are shaped could affect how they cough and sneeze. And the researchers haven’t yet studied spread among ferrets with preexisting immunity to flu, which some day-care attendees will have. Ferrets are also more inclined to bite, wrestle, and defecate wherever they please than the average (potty-trained) kid.

    Still, for the most part, Lakdawala delights in how childlike the ferrets can be. They’re affectionate and mischievous; they seem to bubble with energy and glee. After discovering that the air-sampling robot stationed in the center of their day care was mobile, several of the ferrets began to take it for rides. In watching and sharing the footage at conferences, Lakdawala has received one piece of feedback, over and over again: Oh yeah, parents tell her. My kids do that too.

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    Katherine J. Wu

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  • Physicists Forge New Path to Uncover Exotic Superconductivity

    Physicists Forge New Path to Uncover Exotic Superconductivity

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    Newswise — Physicists have identified a mechanism for the formation of oscillating superconductivity known as pair-density waves. Physical Review Letters published the discovery, which provides new insight into an unconventional, high-temperature superconductive state seen in certain materials, including high-temperature superconductors.

    “We discovered that structures known as Van Hove singularities can produce modulating, oscillating states of superconductivity,” says Luiz Santos, assistant professor of physics at Emory University and senior author of the study. “Our work provides a new theoretical framework for understanding the emergence of this behavior, a phenomenon that is not well understood.”

    First author of the study is Pedro Castro, an Emory physics graduate student. Co-authors include Daniel Shaffer, a postdoctoral fellow in the Santos group, and Yi-Ming Wu from Stanford University.

    The work was funded by the U.S. Department of Energy’s Office of Basic Energy Sciences.

    Santos is a theorist who specializes in condensed matter physics. He studies the interactions of quantum materials — tiny things such as atoms, photons and electrons — that don’t behave according to the laws of classical physics.

    Superconductivity, or the ability of certain materials to conduct electricity without energy loss when cooled to a super-low temperature, is one example of intriguing quantum behavior. The phenomenon was discovered in 1911 when Dutch physicist Heike Kamerlingh Onnes showed that mercury lost its electrical resistance when cooled to 4 Kelvin or minus 371 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s about the temperature of Uranus, the coldest planet in the solar system.

    It took scientists until 1957 to come up with an explanation for how and why superconductivity occurs. At normal temperatures, electrons roam more or less independently. They bump into other particles, causing them to shift speed and direction and dissipate energy. At low temperatures, however, electrons can organize into a new state of matter.

    “They form pairs that are bound together into a collective state that behaves like a single entity,” Santos explains. “You can think of them like soldiers in an army. If they are moving in isolation they are easier to deflect. But when they are marching together in lockstep it’s much harder to destabilize them. This collective state carries current in a robust way.”

    Superconductivity holds huge potential. In theory, it could allow for electric current to move through wires without heating them up, or losing energy. These wires could then carry far more electricity, far more efficiently.

    “One of the holy grails of physics is room-temperature superconductivity that is practical enough for everyday-living applications,” Santos says. “That breakthrough could change the shape of civilization.”

    Many physicists and engineers are working on this frontline to revolutionize how electricity gets transferred.

    Meanwhile, superconductivity has already found applications. Superconducting coils power electromagnets used in magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) machines for medical diagnostics. A handful of magnetic levitation trains are now operating in the world, built on superconducting magnets that are 10 times stronger than ordinary electromagnets. The magnets repel each other when the matching poles face each other, generating a magnetic field capable of levitating and propelling a train.

    The Large Hadron Collider, a particle accelerator that scientists are using to research the fundamental structure of the universe, is another example of technology that runs through superconductivity.

    Superconductivity continues to be discovered in more materials, including many that are superconductive at higher temperatures.

    One focus of Santos’ research is how interactions between electrons can lead to forms of superconductivity that cannot be explained by the 1957 description of superconductivity. An example of this so-called exotic phenomenon is oscillating superconductivity, when the paired electrons dance in waves, changing amplitude.

    In an unrelated project, Santos asked Castro to investigate specific properties of Van Hove singularities, structures where many electronic states become close in energy. Castro’s project revealed that the singularities appeared to have the right kind of physics to seed oscillating superconductivity.

    That sparked Santos and his collaborators to delve deeper. They uncovered a mechanism that would allow these dancing-wave states of superconductivity to arise from Van Hove singularities.

    “As theoretical physicists, we want to be able to predict and classify behavior to understand how nature works,” Santos says. “Then we can start to ask questions with technological relevance.”

    Some high-temperature superconductors — which function at temperatures about three times as cold as a household freezer — have this dancing-wave behavior. The discovery of how this behavior can emerge from Van Hove singularities provides a foundation for experimentalists to explore the realm of possibilities it presents.

    “I doubt that Kamerlingh Onnes was thinking about levitation or particle accelerators when he discovered superconductivity,” Santos says. “But everything we learn about the world has potential applications.”

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    Emory University

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  • One More COVID Summer?

    One More COVID Summer?

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    Since the pandemic’s earliest days, epidemiologists have been waiting for the coronavirus to finally snap out of its pan-season spree. No more spring waves like the first to hit the United States in 2020, no more mid-year surges like the one that turned Hot Vax Summer on its head. Eventually, or so the hope went, SARS-CoV-2 would adhere to the same calendar that many other airway pathogens stick to, at least in temperate parts of the globe: a heavy winter peak, then a summer on sabbatical.

    But three and a half years into the outbreak, the coronavirus is still stubbornly refusing to take the warmest months off. Some public-health experts are now worried that, after a relatively quiet stretch, the virus is kick-starting yet another summer wave. In the southern and northeastern United States, concentrations of the coronavirus in wastewater have been slowly ticking up for several weeks, with the Midwest and West now following suit; test-positivity rates, emergency-department diagnoses of COVID-19, and COVID hospitalizations are also on the rise. The absolute numbers are still small, and they may stay that way. But these are the clear and early signs of a brewing mid-year wave, says Caitlin Rivers, an epidemiologist at Johns Hopkins University—which would make this the fourth summer in a row with a distinct coronavirus bump.

    Even this far into the pandemic, though, no one can say for certain whether summer waves are a permanent COVID fixture—or if the virus exhibits a predictable seasonal pattern at all. No law of nature dictates that winters must come with respiratory illness, or that summers will not. “We just don’t know very much about what drives the cyclical patterns of respiratory infections,” says Sam Scarpino, an infectious-disease modeler at Northeastern University. Which means there’s still no part of the year when this virus is guaranteed to cut us any slack.

    That many pathogens do wax and wane with the seasons is indisputable. In temperate parts of the world, airborne bugs get a boost in winter, only to be stifled in the heat; polio and other feces-borne pathogens, meanwhile, often rise in summer, along with gonorrhea and some other STIs. But noticing these trends is one thing; truly understanding the triggers is another.

    Some diseases lend themselves a bit more easily to explanation: Near the equator, waves of mosquito-borne illness, such as Zika and Chikungunya, tend to be tied to the weather-dependent life cycles of the insects that carry them; in temperate parts of the world, rates of Lyme disease track with the summertime activity of ticks. Flu, too, has pretty strong data to back its preference for wintry months. The virus—which is sheathed in a fragile, fatty layer called an envelope and travels airborne via moist drops—spreads best when it’s cool and dry, conditions that may help keep infectious particles intact and spittle aloft.

    The coronavirus has enough similarities to flu that most experts expect that it will continue to spread in winter too. Both viruses are housed in a sensitive skin; both prefer to move by aerosol. Both are also relatively speedy evolvers that don’t tend to generate long-lasting immunity against infection—factors conducive to repeat waves that hit populations at a fairly stable clip. For those reasons, Anice Lowen, a virologist at Emory University, anticipates that SARS-CoV-2 will continue to show “a clear wintertime seasonality in temperate regions of the world.” Winter is also a time when our bodies can be more susceptible to respiratory bugs: Cold, dry air can interfere with the movement of mucus that shuttles microbes out of the nose and throat; aridity can also make the cells that line those passageways shrivel and die; certain immune defenses might get a bit sleepier, with vitamin D in shorter supply.

    None of that precludes SARS-CoV-2 spread in the heat, even if experts aren’t sure why the virus so easily drives summer waves. Plenty of other microbes manage it: enteroviruses, polio, and more. Even rhinoviruses and adenoviruses, two of the most frequent causes of colds, tend to spread year-round, sometimes showing up in force during the year’s hottest months. (Many scientists presume that has something to do with these viruses’ relatively hardy outer layer, but the reason is undoubtedly more complex than that.) An oft-touted explanation for COVID’s summer waves is that people in certain parts of the country retreat indoors to beat the heat. But that argument alone “is weak,” Lowen told me. In industrialized nations, people spend more than 90 percent of their time indoors.

    That said, an accumulation of many small influences can together create a seasonal tipping point. Summer is a particularly popular time for travel, often to big gatherings. Many months out from winter and its numerous infections and vaccinations, population immunity might also be at a relative low at this time of year, Rivers said. Plus, for all its similarities to the flu, SARS-CoV-2 is its own beast: It has so far affected people more chronically and more severely, and has generated population-sweeping variants at a far faster pace. Those dynamics can all affect when waves manifest.

    And although certain bodily defenses do dip in the cold, data don’t support the idea that immunity is unilaterally stronger in the summer. Micaela Martinez, the director of environmental health at WE ACT for Environmental Justice, in New York, told me the situation is far more complicated than that. For years, she and other researchers have been gathering evidence that suggests that our bodies have distinctly seasonal immunological profiles—with some defensive molecules spiking in the summer and another set in winter. The consequences of those shifts aren’t yet apparent. But some of them could help explain when the coronavirus spreads. By the same token, winter is not a time of disease-ridden doom. Xaquin Castro Dopico, an immunologist at the Karolinska Institute, in Sweden, has found that immune systems in the Northern Hemisphere might be more inflammation-prone in the winter—which, yes, could make certain bouts of illness more severe but could also improve responses to certain vaccinations.

    All of those explanations could apply to COVID’s summer swings—or perhaps none does. “Everybody always wants to have a very simple seasonal answer,” Martinez told me. But one may simply not exist. Even the reasons for the seasonality of polio, a staunch summertime disease prior to its elimination in the U.S., have been “an open question” for many decades, Martinez told me.

    Rivers is hopeful that the coronavirus’s permanent patterns may already be starting to peek through: a wintry heyday, and a smaller maybe-summer hump. “We’re in year four, and we’re seeing the same thing year over year,” she told me. But some experts worry that discussions of COVID-19 seasonality are premature. SARS-CoV-2 is still so fresh to the human population that its patterns could be far from their final form. At an extreme, the patterns researchers observed during the first few years of the pandemic may not prelude the future much at all, because they encapsulate so much change: the initial lack and rapid acquisition of immunity, the virus’s evolution, the ebb and flow of masks, and more. Amid that mishmash of countervailing influences, says Brandon Ogbunu, an infectious-disease modeler at Yale, “you’re going to get some counterintuitive dynamics” that won’t necessarily last long term.

    With so much of the world now infected, vaccinated, or both, and COVID mitigations almost entirely gone, the global situation is less in flux now. The virus itself, although still clearly changing at a blistering pace, has not pulled off an Omicron-caliber jump in evolution for more than a year and a half. But no one can yet promise predictability. The cadence of vaccination isn’t yet settled; Scarpino, of Northeastern University, also isn’t ready to dismiss the idea of a viral evolution surprise. Maybe summer waves, to the extent that they’re happening, are a sign that SARS-CoV-2 will remain a microbe for all seasons. Or maybe they’re part of the pandemic’s death rattle—noise in a system that hasn’t yet quieted down.

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    Katherine J. Wu

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  • What Should Go Into This Year’s COVID Vaccine?

    What Should Go Into This Year’s COVID Vaccine?

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    This fall, millions of Americans might be lining up for yet another kind of COVID vaccine:  their first-ever dose that lacks the strain that ignited the pandemic more than three and a half years ago. Unlike the current, bivalent vaccine, which guards against two variants at once, the next one could, like the first version of the shot, have only one main ingredient—the spike protein of the XBB.1 lineage of the Omicron variant, the globe’s current dominant clade.

    That plan isn’t yet set. The FDA still has to convene a panel of experts, then is expected to make a final call on autumn’s recipe next month. But several experts told me they hope the agency follows the recent recommendation of a World Health Organization advisory group and focuses the next vaccine only on the strains now circulating.

    The switch in strategy—from two variants to one, from original SARS-CoV-2 plus Omicron to XBB.1 alone—would be momentous but wise, experts told me, reflecting the world’s updated understanding of the virus’s evolution and the immune system’s quirks. “It just makes a lot of sense,” said Melanie Ott, the director of the Gladstone Institute of Virology, in San Francisco. XBB.1 is the main coronavirus group circulating today; neither the original variant nor BA.5, the two coronavirus flavors in the bivalent shot, is meaningfully around anymore. And an XBB.1-focused vaccine may give the global population a particularly good shot at broadening immunity.

    At the same time, COVID vaccines are still in a sort of beta-testing stage. In the past three-plus years, the virus has spawned countless iterations, many of which have been extremely good at outsmarting us; we humans, meanwhile, are only on our third-ish attempt at designing a vaccine that can keep pace with the pathogen’s evolutionary sprints. And we’re very much still learning about the coronavirus’s capacity for flexibility and change, says Rafi Ahmed, an immunologist at Emory University. By now, it’s long been clear that vaccines are essential for preventing severe disease and death, and that some cadence of boosting is probably necessary to keep the shots’ effectiveness high. But when the virus alters its evolutionary tactics, our vaccination strategy must follow—and experts are still puzzling out how to account for those changes as they select the shots for each year.

    In the spring and summer of 2022, the last time the U.S. was mulling on a new vaccine formula, Omicron was still relatively new, and the coronavirus’s evolution seemed very much in flux. The pathogen had spent more than two years erratically slingshotting out Greek-letter variants without an obvious succession plan. Instead of accumulating genetic changes within a single lineage—a more iterative form of evolution, roughly akin to what flu strains do—the coronavirus produced a bunch of distantly related variants that jockeyed for control. Delta was not a direct descendant of Alpha; Omicron was not a Delta offshoot; no one could say with any certainty what would arise next, or when. “We didn’t understand the trajectory,” says Kanta Subbarao, the head of the WHO advisory group convened to make recommendations on COVID vaccines.

    And so the experts played it safe. Including an Omicron variant in the shot felt essential, because of how much the virus had changed. But going all in on Omicron seemed too risky—some experts worried that “the virus would flip back,” Subbarao told me, to a variant more similar to Alpha or Delta or something else. As a compromise, several countries, including the United States, went with a combination: half original, half Omicron, in an attempt to reinvigorate OG immunity while laying down new defenses against the circulating strains du jour.

    And those shots did bolster preexisting immunity, as boosters should. But they didn’t rouse a fresh set of responses against Omicron to the degree that some experts had hoped they would, Ott told me. Already trained on the ancestral version of the virus, people’s bodies seemed to have gotten a bit myopic—repeatedly reawakening defenses against past variants, at the expense of new ones that might have more potently attacked Omicron. The outcome was never thought to be damaging, Subbarao told me: The bivalent, for instance, still broadened people’s immune responses against SARS-CoV-2 compared with, say, another dose of the original-recipe shot, and was effective at tamping down hospitalization rates. But Ahmed told me that, in retrospect, he thinks an Omicron-only boost might have further revved that already powerful effect.

    Going full bore on XBB.1 now could keep the world from falling into that same trap twice. People who get an updated shot with that strain alone would receive only the new, unfamiliar ingredient, allowing the immune system to focus on the fresh material and potentially break out of an ancestral-strain rut. XBB.1’s spike protein also would not be diluted with one from an older variant—a concern Ahmed has with the current bivalent shot. When researchers added Omicron to their vaccine recipes, they didn’t double the total amount of spike protein; they subbed out half of what was there before. That left vaccine recipients with just half the Omicron-focused mRNA they might have gotten had the shot been monovalent, and probably a more lackluster antibody response.

    Recent work from the lab of Vineet Menachery, a virologist at the University of Texas Medical Branch, suggests another reason the Omicron half of the shot didn’t pack enough of an immunizing punch. Subvariants from this lineage, including BA.5 and XBB.1, carry at least one mutation that makes their spike protein unstable—to the point where it seems less likely than other versions of the spike protein to stick around for long enough to sufficiently school immune cells. In a bivalent vaccine, in particular, the immune response could end up biased toward non-Omicron ingredients, exacerbating the tendencies of already immunized people to focus their energy on the ancestral strain. For the same reason, a monovalent XBB.1, too, might not deliver the anticipated immunizing dose, Menachery told me. But if people take it (still a big if), and hospitalizations remain low among those up-to-date on their shots, a once-a-year total-strain switch-out might be the choice for next year’s vaccine too.

    Dropping the ancestral strain from the vaccine isn’t without risk. The virus could still produce a variant totally different from XBB.1, though that does, at this point, seem unlikely. For a year and a half now, Omicron has endured, and it now has the longest tenure of a single Greek-letter variant since the pandemic’s start. Even the subvariants within the Omicron family seem to be sprouting off each other more predictably; after a long stint of inconsistency, the virus’s shape-shifting now seems “less jumpy,” says Leo Poon, a virologist at the University of Hong Kong. It may be a sign that humans and the virus have reached a détente now that the population is blanketed in a relatively stable layer of immunity. Plus, even if a stray Alpha or Delta descendant were to rise up, the world wouldn’t be caught entirely off guard: So many people have banked protection against those and other past variants that they’d probably still be well buffered against COVID’s worst acute outcomes. (That reassurance doesn’t hold, though, for people who still need primary-series shots, including the kids being born into the world every day. An XBB.1 boost might be a great option for people with preexisting immunity. But a bivalent that can offer more breadth might still be the more risk-averse choice for someone whose immunological slate is blank.)

    More vaccination-strategy shifts will undoubtedly come. SARS-CoV-2 is still new to us; so are our shots. But the virus’s evolution, as of late, has been getting a shade more flu-like, and its transmission patterns a touch more seasonal. Regulators in the U.S. have already announced that COVID vaccines will probably be offered each year in the fall—as annual flu shots are. The viruses aren’t at all the same. But as the years progress, the comparison between COVID and flu shots could get more apt still—if, say, the coronavirus also starts to produce multiple, genetically distinct strains that simultaneously circulate. In that case, vaccinating against multiple versions of the virus at once might be the most effective defense.

    Flu shots could be a useful template in another way: Although those shots have followed roughly the same guidelines for many years, with experts meeting twice a year to decide whether and how to update each autumn’s vaccine ingredients, they, too, have needed some flexibility. Until 2012, the vaccines were trivalent, containing ingredients that would immunize people against three separate strains at once; now many, including all of the U.S.’s, are quadrivalent—and soon, based on new evidence, researchers may push for those to return to a three-strain recipe. At the same time, flu and COVID vaccines share a major drawback. Our shots’ ingredients are still selected months ahead of when the injections actually reach us—leaving immune systems lagging behind a virus that has, in the interim, sprinted ahead. Until the world has something more universal, our vaccination strategies will have to be reactive, scrambling to play catch-up with these pathogens’ evolutionary whims.

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    Katherine J. Wu

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  • The COVID Question That Will Take Decades to Answer

    The COVID Question That Will Take Decades to Answer

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    To be a newborn in the year 2023—and, almost certainly, every year that follows—means emerging into a world where the coronavirus is ubiquitous. Babies might not meet the virus in the first week or month of life, but soon enough, SARS-CoV-2 will find them. “For anyone born into this world, it’s not going to take a lot of time for them to become infected,” maybe a year, maybe two, says Katia Koelle, a virologist and infectious-disease modeler at Emory University. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, this virus will be one of the very first serious pathogens that today’s infants—and all future infants—meet.

    Three years into the coronavirus pandemic, these babies are on the leading edge of a generational turnover that will define the rest of our relationship with SARS-CoV-2. They and their slightly older peers are slated to be the first humans who may still be alive when COVID-19 truly hits a new turning point: when almost everyone on Earth has acquired a degree of immunity to the virus as a very young child.

    That future crossroads might not sound all that different from where the world is currently. With vaccines now common in most countries and the virus so transmissible, a significant majority of people have some degree of immunity. And in recent months, the world has begun to witness the consequences of that shift. The flux of COVID cases and hospitalizations in most countries seems to be stabilizing into a seasonal-ish sine wave; disease has gotten, on average, less severe, and long COVID seems to be somewhat less likely among those who have recently gotten shots. Even the virus’s evolution seems to be plodding, making minor tweaks to its genetic code, rather than major changes that require another Greek-letter name.

    But today’s status quo may be more of a layover than a final destination in our journey toward COVID’s final form. Against SARS-CoV-2, most little kids have fared reasonably well. And as more babies have been born into a SARS-CoV-2-ridden world, the average age of first exposure to this coronavirus has been steadily dropping—a trend that could continue to massage COVID-19 into a milder disease. Eventually, the expectation is that the illness will reach a stable nadir, at which point it may truly be “another common cold,” says Rustom Antia, an infectious-disease modeler at Emory.

    The full outcome of this living experiment, though, won’t be clear for decades—well after the billions of people who encountered the coronavirus for the first time in adulthood are long gone. The experiences that today’s youngest children have with the virus are only just beginning to shape what it will mean to have COVID throughout a lifetime, when we all coexist with it from birth to death as a matter of course.


    At the beginning of SARS-CoV-2’s global tear, the coronavirus was eager to infect all of us, and we had no immunity to rebuff its attempts. But vulnerability wasn’t just about immune defenses: Age, too, has turned out to be key to resilience. Much of the horror of the disease could be traced to having not only a large population that lacked protection against the virus—but a large adult population that lacked protection against the virus. Had the entire world been made up of grade-schoolers when the pandemic arrived, “I don’t think it would have been nearly as severe,” says Juliet Pulliam, an infectious-disease modeler at Stellenbosch University, in South Africa.

    Across several viral diseases—polio, chicken pox, mumps, SARS, measles, and more—getting sick as an adult is notably more dangerous than as a kid, a trend that’s typically exacerbated when people don’t have any vaccinations or infections to those pathogens in their rearview. The manageable infections that strike toddlers and grade-schoolers may turn serious when they first manifest at older ages, landing people in the hospital with pneumonia, brain swelling, even blindness, and eventually killing some. When scientists plot mortality data by age, many curves bend into “a pretty striking J shape,” says Dylan Morris, an infectious-disease modeler at UCLA.

    The reason for that age differential isn’t always clear. Some of kids’ resilience probably comes from having a young, spry body, far less likely to be burdened with chronic medical conditions that raise severe disease risk. But the quick-wittedness of the young immune system is also likely playing a role. Several studies have found that children are much better at marshaling hordes of interferon—an immune molecule that armors cells against viruses—and may harbor larger, more efficient cavalries of infected-cell-annihilating T cells. That performance peaks sometime around grade school or middle school, says Janet Chou, a pediatrician at Boston Children’s Hospital. After that, our molecular defenses begin a rapid tumble, growing progressively creakier, clumsier, sluggish, and likelier to launch misguided attacks against the tissues that house them. By the time we’re deep into adulthood, our immune systems are no longer sprightly, or terribly well calibrated. When we get sick, our bodies end up rife with inflammation. And our immune cells, weary and depleted, are far less unable to fight off the pathogens they once so easily trounced.

    Whatever the explanations, children are far less likely to experience serious symptoms, or to end up in the hospital or the ICU after being infected with SARS-CoV-2. Long COVID, too, seems to be less prevalent in younger cohorts, says Alexandra Yonts, a pediatrician at Children’s National Hospital. And although some children still develop MIS-C, a rare and dangerous inflammatory condition that can appear weeks after they catch the virus, the condition “seems to have dissipated” as the pandemic has worn on, says Betsy Herold, the chief of pediatric infectious disease at the Children’s Hospital at Montefiore, in the Bronx.

    Should those patterns hold, and as the age of first exposure continues to fall, COVID is likely to become less intense. The relative mildness of childhood encounters with the virus could mean that almost everyone’s first infection—which tends, on average, to be more severe than the ones that immediately follow—could rank low in intensity, setting a sort of ceiling for subsequent bouts. That might make concentrating first encounters “in the younger age group actually a good thing,” says Ruian Ke, an infectious-disease modeler at Los Alamos National Laboratory.

    COVID will likely remain capable of killing, hospitalizing, and chronically debilitating a subset of adults and kids alike. But the hope, experts told me, is that the proportion of individuals who face the worst outcomes will continue to drop. That may be what happened in the aftermath of the 1918 flu pandemic, Antia, of Emory, told me: That strain of the virus stuck around, but never caused the same devastation again. Some researchers suspect that something similar may have even played out with another human coronavirus, OC43: After sparking a devastating pandemic in the 19th century, it’s possible that the virus no longer managed to wreak much more havoc than a common cold in a population that had almost universally encountered it early in life.


    Such a fate for COVID, though, isn’t a guarantee. The virus’s propensity to linger in the body’s nooks and crannies, sometimes causing symptoms that last many months or years, could make it an outlier among its coronaviral kin, says Melody Zeng, an immunologist at Cornell University. And even if the disease is likely to get better than what it is now, that is not a very high bar to clear.

    Some small subset of the population will always be naive to the virus—and it’s not exactly a comfort that in the future, that cohort will almost exclusively be composed of our kids. Pediatric immune systems are robust, UCLA’s Morris told me. But “robust is not the same as infallible.” Since the start of the pandemic, more than 2,000 Americans under the age of 18 have died from COVID—a small fraction of total deaths, but enough to make the disease a leading cause of death for children in the U.S. MIS-C and long COVID may not be common, but their consequences are no less devastating for the children who experience them. Some risks are especially concentrated among our youngest kids, under the age 5, whose immune defenses are still revving up, making them more vulnerable than their slightly older peers. There’s especially little to safeguard newborns just under six months, who aren’t yet eligible for most vaccines—including COVID shots—and who are rapidly losing the antibody-based protection passed down from their mothers while they were in the womb.

    A younger average age of first infection will also probably increase the total number of exposures people have to SARS-CoV-2 in a typical lifetime—each instance carrying some risk of severe or chronic disease. Ke worries the cumulative toll that this repetition could exact: Studies have shown that each subsequent tussle with the virus has the potential to further erode the functioning or structural integrity of organs throughout the body, raising the chances of chronic damage. There’s no telling how many encounters might push an individual past a healthy tipping point.

    Racking up exposures also won’t always bode well for the later chapters of these children’s lives. Decades from now, nearly everyone will have banked plenty of encounters with SARS-CoV-2 by the time they reach advanced age, Chou, from Boston Children’s Hospital, told me. But the virus will also continue to change its appearance, and occasionally escape the immunity that some people built up as kids. Even absent those evasions, as their immune systems wither, many older people may not be able to leverage past experiences with the disease to much benefit. The American experience with influenza is telling. Despite a lifetime of infections and available vaccines, tens of thousands of people typically die annually of the disease in the United States alone, says Ofer Levy, the director of the Precision Vaccines Program at Boston Children’s Hospital. So even with the expected COVID softening, “I don’t think we’re going to reach a point where it’s, Oh well, tra-la-la,” Levy told me. And the protection that immunity offers can have caveats: Decades of research with influenza suggest that immune systems can get a bit hung up on the first versions of a virus that they see, biasing them against mounting strong attacks against other strains; SARS-CoV-2 now seems to be following that pattern. Depending on the coronavirus variants that kids encounter first, their responses and vulnerability to future bouts of illness may vary, says Scott Hensley, an immunologist at the University of Pennsylvania.

    Early vaccinations—that ideally target multiple versions of SARS-CoV-2—could make a big difference in reducing just about every bad outcome the virus threatens. Severe disease, long COVID, and transmission to other children and vulnerable adults all would likely be “reduced, prevented, and avoided,” Chou told me. But that’s only if very young kids are taking those shots, which, right now, isn’t at all the case. Nor are they necessarily getting protection passed down during gestation or early life from their mothers, because many adults are not up to date on COVID shots.

    Some of these issues could, in theory, end up moot. A hundred or so years from now, COVID could simply be another common cold, indistinguishable in practice from any other. But Morris points out that this reality, too, wouldn’t fully spare us. “When we bother to look at the burden of the other human coronaviruses, the ones who have been with us for ages? In the elderly, it’s real,” he told me. One study found that a nursing-home outbreak of OC43—the purported former pandemic coronavirus—carried an 8 percent fatality rate; another, caused by NL63, killed three out of the 20 people who caught it in a long-term-care facility in 2017. These and other “mild” respiratory viruses also continue to pose a threat to people of any age who are immunocompromised.

    SARS-CoV-2 doesn’t need to follow in those footsteps. It’s the only human coronavirus against which we have vaccines—which makes the true best-case scenario one in which it ends up even milder than a common cold, because we proactively protect against it. Disease would not need to be as inevitable; the vaccine, rather than the virus, could be the first bit of intel on the disease that kids receive. Tomorrow’s children probably won’t live in a COVID-free world. But they could at least be spared many of the burdens we’re carrying now.

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    Katherine J. Wu

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  • Extracts from two wild plants inhibit COVID-19 virus, study finds

    Extracts from two wild plants inhibit COVID-19 virus, study finds

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    Newswise — Two common wild plants contain extracts that inhibit the ability of the virus that causes COVID-19 to infect living cells, an Emory University study finds. Scientific Reports published the results — the first major screening of botanical extracts to search for potency against the SARS-CoV-2 virus.

    In laboratory dish tests, extracts from the flowers of tall goldenrod (Solidago altissima) and the rhizomes of the eagle fern (Pteridium aquilinum) each blocked SARS-CoV-2 from entering human cells.

    The active compounds are only present in miniscule quantities in the plants. It would be ineffective, and potentially dangerous, for people to attempt to treat themselves with them, the researchers stress. In fact, the eagle fern is known to be toxic, they warn.

    “It’s very early in the process, but we’re working to identify, isolate and scale up the molecules from the extracts that showed activity against the virus,” says Cassandra Quave, senior author of the study and associate professor in Emory School of Medicine’s Department of Dermatology and the Center for the Study of Human Health. “Once we have isolated the active ingredients, we plan to further test for their safety and for their long-range potential as medicines against COVID-19.”

    Quave is an ethnobotanist, studying how traditional people have used plants for medicine to identify promising new candidates for modern-day drugs. Her lab curates the Quave Natural Product Library, which contains thousands of botanical and fungal natural products extracted from plants collected at sites around the world.

    Caitlin Risener, a PhD candidate in Emory’s Molecular and Systems Pharmacology graduate program and the Center for the Study of Human Health, is first author of the current paper.

    In previous research to identify potential molecules for the treatment of drug-resistant bacterial infections, the Quave lab focused on plants that traditional people had used to treat skin inflammation.

    Given that COVID-19 is a newly emerged disease, the researchers took a broader approach. They devised a method to rapidly test more than 1,800 extracts and 18 compounds from the Quave Natural Product Library for activity against SARS-CoV-2.

    “We’ve shown that our natural products library is a powerful tool to help search for potential therapeutics for an emerging disease,” Risener says. “Other researchers can adapt our screening method to search for other novel compounds within plants and fungi that may lead to new drugs to treat a range of pathogens.”

    SARS-CoV-2 is an RNA virus with a spike protein that can bind to a protein called ACE2 on host cells. “The viral spike protein uses the ACE2 protein almost like a key going into a lock, enabling the virus to break into a cell and infect it,” Quave explains.

    The researchers devised experiments with virus-like particles, or VLPs, of SARS-CoV-2, and cells programmed to overexpress ACE2 on their surface. The VLPs were stripped of the genetic information needed to cause a COVID-19 infection. Instead, if a VLP managed to bind to an ACE2 protein and enter a cell, it was programmed to hijack the cell’s machinery to activate a fluorescent green protein.

    A plant extract was added to the cells in a petri dish before introducing the viral particles. By shining a fluorescent light on the dish, they could quickly determine whether the viral particles had managed to enter the cells and activate the green protein.   

    The researchers identified a handful of hits for extracts that protected against viral entry and then homed in on the ones showing the strongest activity: Tall goldenrod and eagle fern. Both plant species are native to North America and are known for traditional medicinal uses by Native Americans.

    Additional experiments showed that the protective power of the plant extracts worked across four variants of SARS-CoV-2: Alpha, theta, delta and gamma.

    To further test these results, the Quave lab collaborated with co-author Raymond Schinazi, Emory professor of pediatrics, director of Emory’s Division of Laboratory of Biochemical Pharmacology and co-director of the HIV Cure Scientific Working Group within the NIH-sponsored Emory University Center for AIDS Research. A world leader in antiviral development, Schinazi is best known for his pioneering work on breakthrough HIV drugs.

    The higher biosecurity rating of the Schinazi lab enabled the researchers to test the two plant extracts in experiments using infectious SARS-CoV-2 virus instead of VLPs. The results confirmed the ability of the tall goldenrod and eagle fern extracts to inhibit the ability of SARS-CoV-2 to bind to a living cell and infect it.

    “Our results set the stage for the future use of natural product libraries to find new tools or therapies against infectious diseases,” Quave says.

    As a next step, the researchers are working to determine the exact mechanism that enables the two plant extracts to block binding to ACE2 proteins.

    For Risener, one of the best parts about the project is that she collected samples of tall goldenrod and eagle fern herself. In addition to gathering medicinal plants from around the globe, the Quave lab also makes field trips to the forests of the Joseph W. Jones Research Center in South Georgia. The Woodruff Foundation established the center to help conserve one of the last remnants of the unique longleaf pine ecosystem that once dominated the southeastern United States.

    “It’s awesome to go into nature to identify and dig up plants,” Risener says. “That’s something that few graduate students in pharmacology get to do. I’ll be covered in dirt from head to toe, kneeling on the ground and beaming with excitement and happiness.”

    She also assists in preparing the plant extracts and mounting the specimens for the Emory Herbarium.

    “When you collect a specimen yourself, and dry and preserve the samples, you get a personal connection,” she says. “It’s different from someone just handing you a vial of plant material in a lab and saying, ‘Analyze this.’”

    After graduating, Risener hopes for a career in outreach and education for science policy surrounding research into natural compounds. A few of the more famous medicines derived from botanicals include aspirin (from the willow tree), penicillin (from fungi) and the cancer therapy Taxol (from the yew tree).

    “Plants have such chemical complexity that humans probably couldn’t dream up all the botanical compounds that are waiting to be discovered,” Risener says. “The vast medicinal potential of plants highlights the importance of preserving ecosystems.”

    Co-authors of the current paper include: Sumin Woo, Tharanga Samarakoon, Marco Caputo and Emily Edwards (the Quave lab and Emory’s Center for the Study of Human Health); Keivan Zandi, Shu Ling Goh and Jessica Downs-Bowen (the Schinazi lab); Kier Klepzig (Joseph W. Jones Research Center); and Wendy Applequist (Missouri Botanical Garden).

    Funding for the paper was provided by the Marcus Foundation, the NIH-funded Center for AIDS Research and the NIH National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health.

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    Emory University

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  • Why We Just Can’t Quit the Handshake

    Why We Just Can’t Quit the Handshake

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    Mark Sklansky, a pediatric cardiologist at UCLA, has not shaken a hand in several years. The last time he did so, it was only “because I knew I was going to go to the bathroom right afterwards,” he told me. “I think it’s a really bad practice.” From where he’s standing, probably a safe distance away, our palms and fingers are just not sanitary. “They’re wet; they’re warm; they’re what we use to touch everything we touch,” he said. “It’s not rocket science: The hand is a very good medium to transmit disease.”

    It’s a message that Sklansky has been proselytizing for the better part of a decade—via word of mouth among his patients, impassioned calls to action in medical journals, even DIY music videos that warn against puttin’ ’er there. But for a long time, his calls to action were met with scoffs and skepticism.

    So when the coronavirus started its sweep across the United States three years ago, Sklansky couldn’t help but feel a smidgen of hope. He watched as corporate America pocketed its dealmaking palms, as sports teams traded end-of-game grasps for air-fives, and as The New Yorker eulogized the gesture’s untimely end. My colleague Megan Garber celebrated the handshake’s demise, as did Anthony Fauci. The coronavirus was a horror, but perhaps it could also be a wake-up call. Maybe, just maybe, the handshake was at last dead. “I was optimistic that it was going to be it,” Sklansky told me.

    But the death knell rang too soon. “Handshakes are back,” says Diane Gottsman, an etiquette expert and the founder of the Protocol School of Texas. The gesture is too ingrained, too beloved, too irreplaceable for even a global crisis to send it to an early grave. “The handshake is the vampire that didn’t die,” says Ken Carter, a psychologist at Emory University. “I can tell you that it lives: I shook a stranger’s hand yesterday.”

    The base science of the matter hasn’t changed. Hands are humans’ primary tools of touch, and people (especially men) don’t devote much time to washing them. “If you actually sample hands, the grossness is something quite exceptional,” says Ella Al-Shamahi, an anthropologist and the author of the book The Handshake: A Gripping History. And shakes, with their characteristic palm-to-palm squeezes, are a whole lot more prone to spread microbes than alternatives such as fist bumps.

    Not all of that is necessarily bad: Many of the microscopic passengers on our skin are harmless, or even beneficial. “The vast majority of handshakes are completely safe,” says David Whitworth, a microbiologist at Aberystwyth University, in Wales, who’s studied the griminess of human hands. But not all manual microbes are benign. Norovirus, a nasty diarrheal disease infamous for sparking outbreaks on cruise ships, can spread easily via skin; so can certain respiratory viruses such as RSV.

    The irony of the recent handshake hiatus is that SARS-CoV-2, the microbe that inspired it, isn’t much of a touchable danger. “The risk is just not very high,” says Jessica Malaty Rivera, an infectious-disease epidemiologist at the Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security. Despite early pandemic worries, this particular coronavirus is more likely to use breath as a conduit than contaminated surfaces. That’s not to say that the virus couldn’t hop from hand to hand after, say, an ill-timed sneeze or cough right before a shake. But Emily Landon, an infectious-disease physician and hand-hygiene expert at the University of Chicago, thinks it would take a hefty dose of snot or phlegm, followed by some unwashed snacking or nose-picking by the recipient, to really pose a threat. So maybe it’s no shock that as 2020’s frantic sanitizing ebbed, handshakes started creeping back.

    Frankly, that doesn’t have to be the end of the world. Even when considering more shake-spreadable pathogens, it’s a lot easier to break hand-based chains of transmission than airborne ones. “As long as you have good hygiene habits and you keep your hands away from your face,” Landon told me, “it doesn’t really matter if you shake other people’s hands.” (Similar rules apply to doorknobs, light switches, subway handrails, phones, and other germy perils.) Then again, that requires actually cleaning your hands, which, as Sklansky will glady point out, most people—even health-care workers—are still pretty terrible about.

    For now, shakes don’t seem to be back to 2019 levels—at least, not the last time researchers checked, in the summer of 2022. But Gottsman thinks their full resurgence may be only a matter of time. Among her clients in the corporate world, where grips and grasps are currency, handshakes once again abound. No other gesture, she told me, hits the same tactile sweet spot: just enough touch to feel personal connection, but sans the extra intimacy of a kiss or hug. Fist bumps, waves, and elbow touches just don’t measure up. At the pandemic’s worst, when no one was willing to go palm-to-palm, “it felt like something was missing,” Carter told me. The lack of handshakes wasn’t merely a reminder that COVID was here; it signaled that the comforts of routine interaction were not.

    If handshakes survive the COVID era—as they seem almost certain to do—this won’t be the only disease outbreak they outlive, Al-Shamahi told me. When yellow fever pummeled Philadelphia in the late 18th century, locals began to shrink “back with affright at even the offer of a hand,” as the economist Matthew Carey wrote at the time. Fears of cholera in the 1890s prompted a small cadre of Russians to establish an anti-handshake society, whose members were fined three rubles for every verboten grasp. During the flu pandemic that began in 1918, the town of Prescott, Arizona, went so far as to ban the practice. Each time, the handshake bounced back. Al-Shamahi remembers rolling her eyes a bit in 2020, when she saw outlets forecasting the handshake’s untimely end. “I was like, ‘I can’t believe you guys are writing the obituary,’” she told me. “That is clearly not what is happening here.”

    Handshakes do seem to have a knack for enduring through the ages. A commonly cited origin story for the handshake points to the ancient Greeks, who may have deployed the behavior as a way to prove that they weren’t concealing a weapon. But Al-Shamahi thinks the roots of handshaking go way further back. Chimpanzees—from whom humans split some 7 million years ago—appear to engage in a similar behavior in the aftermath of fights. Across species, handshakes probably exchange all sorts of sensory information, Al-Shamahi said. They may even leave chemical residues on our palm that we can later subconsciously smell.

    Handshakes aren’t a matter of survival: Plenty of communities around the world get by just fine without them, opting instead for, say, the namaste or a hand over the heart. But palm pumping seems to have stuck around in several societies for good reason, outlasting other customs such as curtsies and bows. Handshakes are mutual, usually consensual; they’re imbued with an egalitarian feel. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you see the rise of the handshake amongst all the greetings at a time when democracy was on the rise,” Al-Shamahi told me. The handshake is even, to some extent, built into the foundation of the United States: Thomas Jefferson persuaded many of his contemporaries to adopt the practice, which he felt was more befitting of democracy than the snobbish flourishes of British court.

    American attitudes toward handshakes still might have undergone lasting, COVID-inspired change. Gottsman is optimistic that people will continue to be more considerate of those who are less eager to shake hands. There are plenty of good reasons for abstaining, she points out: having a vulnerable family member at home, or simply wanting to avoid any extra risk of getting sick. And these days, it doesn’t feel so strange to skip the shake. “I think it’s less a part of our cultural vernacular now,” Landon told me.

    Sklansky, once again in the minority, is disappointed by the recent turn of events. “I used to say, ‘Wow, it took a pandemic to end the handshake,’” he told me. “Now I realize, even a pandemic has failed to rid us of the handshake.” But he’s not ready to give up. In 2015, he and a team of his colleagues cordoned off part of his hospital as a “handshake-free zone”—an initiative that, he told me, was largely a success among health-care workers and patients alike. The designation faded after a year or two, but Sklansky hopes that something similar could soon return. In the meantime, he’ll settle for declining every proffered palm that comes his way—although, if you go for something else, he’d rather you not choose the fist bump: “Sometimes,” he told me, “they just go too hard.”

    ​​When you buy a book using a link on this page, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.

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    Katherine J. Wu

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  • How Worried Should We Be About XBB.1.5?

    How Worried Should We Be About XBB.1.5?

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    After months and months of SARS-CoV-2 subvariant soup, one ingredient has emerged in the United States with a flavor pungent enough to overwhelm the rest: XBB.1.5, an Omicron offshoot that now accounts for an estimated 75 percent of cases in the Northeast. A crafty dodger of antibodies that is able to grip extra tightly onto the surface of our cells, XBB.1.5 is now officially the country’s fastest-spreading coronavirus subvariant. In the last week of December alone, it zoomed from 20 percent of estimated infections nationwide to 40 percent; soon, it’s expected to be all that’s left, or at least very close. “That’s the big thing everybody looks for—how quickly it takes over from existing variants,” says Shaun Truelove, an infectious-disease modeler at Johns Hopkins University. “And that’s a really quick rise.”

    All of this raises familiar worries: more illness, more long COVID, more hospitalizations, more health-care system strain. With holiday cheer and chilly temperatures crowding people indoors, and the uptake of bivalent vaccines at an abysmal low, a winter wave was already brewing in the U.S. The impending dominance of an especially speedy, immune-evasive variant, Truelove told me, could ratchet up that swell.

    But the American public has heard that warning many, many, many times before—and by and large, the situation has not changed. The world has come a long way since early 2020, when it lacked vaccines and drugs to combat the coronavirus; now, with immunity from shots and past infections slathered across the planet—porous and uneven though that layer may be—the population is no longer nearly so vulnerable to COVID’s worst effects. Nor is XBB.1.5 a doomsday-caliber threat. So far, no evidence suggests that the subvariant is inherently more severe than its predecessors. When its close sibling, XBB, swamped Singapore a few months ago, pushing case counts up, hospitalizations didn’t undergo a disproportionately massive spike (though XBB.1.5 is more transmissible, and the U.S. is less well vaccinated). Compared with the original Omicron surge that pummeled the nation this time last year, “I think there’s less to be worried about,” especially for people who are up to date on their vaccines, says Mehul Suthar, a viral immunologist at Emory University who’s been studying how the immune system reacts to new variants. “My previous exposures are probably going to help against any XBB infection I have.”

    SARS-CoV-2’s evolution is still worth tracking closely through genomic surveillance—which is only getting harder as testing efforts continue to be pared back. But “variants mean something a little different now for most of the world than they did earlier in the pandemic,” says Emma Hodcroft, a molecular epidemiologist at the University of Bern, in Switzerland, who’s been tracking the proportions of SARS-Cov-2 variants around the world. Versions of the virus that can elude a subset of our immune defenses are, after all, going to keep on coming, for as long as SARS-CoV-2 is with us—likely forever, as my colleague Sarah Zhang has written. It’s the classic host-pathogen arms race: Viruses infect us; our bodies, hoping to avoid a similarly severe reinfection, build up defenses, goading the invader into modifying its features so it can infiltrate us anew.

    But the virus is not evolving toward the point where it’s unstoppable; it’s only switching up its fencing stance to sidestep our latest parries as we do the same for it. A version of the virus that succeeds in one place may flop in another, depending on the context: local vaccination and infection histories, for instance, or how many elderly and immunocompromised individuals are around, and the degree to which everyone avoids trading public air. With the world’s immune landscape now so uneven, “it’s getting harder for the virus to do that synchronized wave that Omicron did this time last year,” says Verity Hill, an evolutionary virologist at Yale. It will keep trying to creep around our defenses, says Pavitra Roychoudhury, who’s monitoring SARS-CoV-2 variants at the University of Washington, but “I don’t think we need to have alarm-bell emojis for every variant that comes out.”

    Some particularly worrying variants and subvariants will continue to arise, with telltale signs, Roychoudhury told me: a steep increase in wastewater surveillance, followed by a catastrophic climb in hospitalizations; a superfast takeover that kicks other coronavirus strains off the stage in a matter of days or weeks. Omens such as these hint at a variant that’s probably so good at circumventing existing immune defenses that it will easily sicken just about everyone again—and cause enough illness overall that a large number of cases turn severe. Also possible is a future variant that is inherently more virulent, adding risk to every new case. In extreme versions of these scenarios, tests, treatments, and masks might need to come back into mass use; researchers may need to concoct a new vaccine recipe  at an accelerated pace. But that’s a threshold that most variations of SARS-CoV-2 will not clear—including, it seems so far, XBB.1.5. Right now, Hodcroft told me, “it’s hard to imagine that anything we’ve been seeing in the last few months would really cause a rush to do a vaccine update,” or anything else similarly extreme. “We don’t make a new flu vaccine every time we see a new variant, and we see those all through the year.” Our current crop of BA.5-focused shots is not a great match for XBB.1.5, as Suthar and his colleagues have found, at least on the antibody front. But antibodies aren’t the only defenses at play—and Suthar told me it’s still far better to have the new vaccine than not.

    In the U.S., wastewater counts and hospitalizations are ticking upward, and XBB.1.5 is quickly elbowing out its peers. But the estimated infection rise doesn’t seem nearly as steep as the ascension of the original Omicron variant, BA.1 (though our tracking is now poorer). XBB.1.5 also isn’t dominating equally in different parts of the country—and Truelove points out that it doesn’t yet seem tightly linked to hospitalizations in the places where it’s gained traction so far. As tempting as it may be to blame any rise in cases and hospitalizations on the latest subvariant, our own behaviors are at least as important. Drop-offs in vaccine uptake or big jumps in mitigation-free mingling can drive spikes in illness on their own. “We were expecting a wave already, this time of year,” Hill told me. Travel is up, masking is down. And just 15 percent of Americans over the age of 5 have received a bivalent shot.

    The pace at which new SARS-CoV-2 variants and subvariants take over could eventually slow, but the experts I spoke with weren’t sure this would happen. Immunity across the globe remains patchy; only a subset of countries have access to updated bivalent vaccines, while some countries are still struggling to get first doses into millions of arms. And with nearly all COVID-dampening mitigations “pretty much gone” on a global scale, Hodcroft told me, it’s gotten awfully easy for the coronavirus to keep experimenting with new ways to stump our immune defenses. XBB.1.5 is both the product and the catalyst of unfettered spread—and should that continue, the virus will take advantage again.

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    Katherine J. Wu

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  • Why Do Rapid Tests Feel So Useless Right Now?

    Why Do Rapid Tests Feel So Useless Right Now?

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    Max Hamilton found out that his roommate had been exposed to the coronavirus shortly after Thanksgiving. The dread set in, and then, so did her symptoms. Wanting to be cautious, she tested continuously, remaining masked in all common areas at home. But after three negative rapid tests in a row, she and Hamilton felt like the worst had passed. At the very least, they could chat safely across the kitchen table, right?

    Wrong. More than a week later, another test finally sprouted a second line: bright, pink, positive. Five days after that, Hamilton was testing positive as well. This was his second bout of COVID since the start of the pandemic, and he wasn’t feeling so great. Congestion and fatigue aside, he was “just very frustrated,” he told me. He felt like they had done everything right. “If we have no idea if someone has COVID, how are we supposed to avoid it?” Now he has a different take on rapid tests: They aren’t guarantees. When he and his roommate return from their Christmas and New Year’s holidays, he said, they’ll steer clear of friends who show any symptoms whatsoever.

    Hamilton and his roommate are just two of many who have been wronged by the rapid. Since the onset of Omicron, for one reason or another, false negatives seem to be popping up with greater frequency. That leaves people stuck trying to figure out when, and if, to bank on the simplest, easiest way to check one’s COVID status. At this point, even people who work in health care are throwing up their hands. Alex Meshkin, the CEO of the medical laboratory Flow Health, told me that he spent the first two years of the pandemic carefully masking in social situations and asking others to get tested before meeting with him. Then he came down with COVID shortly after visiting a friend who didn’t think that she was sick. Turns out, she’d only taken a rapid test. “That’s my wonderful personal experience,” Meshkin told me. His takeaway? “I don’t trust the antigen test at all.”

    That might be a bit extreme. Rapid antigen tests still work, and we’ve known about the problem of delayed positivity for ages. In fact, the tests are about as good at picking up the SARS-CoV-2 virus now as they’ve ever been, Susan Butler-Wu, a clinical microbiologist at the University of Southern California’s Keck School of Medicine, told me. Their limit of detection––the lowest quantity of viral antigen that will register reliably as a positive result––didn’t really change as new variants emerged. At the same time, the Omicron variant and its offshoots seem to take longer, after the onset of infection, to accumulate that amount of virus in the nose, says Wilbur Lam, a professor of pediatrics and biomedical engineering at Emory University who is also one of the lead investigators assessing COVID diagnostic tests for the federal government. Lam told me that this delay, between getting sick and reaching the minimum detectable concentration of the viral antigen, could be contributing to the spate of false-negative results.

    That problem isn’t likely to be solved anytime soon. The same basic technology behind COVID rapid tests, called “lateral flow,” has been around for years; it’s even used for standard pregnancy tests, Emily Landon, an infectious-disease physician at the University of Chicago, told me. Oliver Keppler, a virology researcher at the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich who was involved in a study comparing the performance of rapid tests between variants, says there isn’t really a way to tweak the tests so that they’ll be any more sensitive to newer variants. “Conceptually, there’s little we can do.” In the meantime, he told me, we have to accept that “in the first one or two days of infection with Omicron, on average, antigen tests are very poor.”

    Of course, Hamilton (and his roommate) would point out that the tests can fail even several days after symptoms start. That’s why he and others are feeling hesitant to trust them again. “It’s not just about the utility or accuracy of the test. It’s also about the willingness to even do the test,” Ng Qin Xiang, a resident in preventative medicine at Singapore General Hospital who was involved in a study examining the performance of rapid antigen tests, told me. “Even within my circle of friends, a lot of people, when they have respiratory symptoms, just stay home and rest,” he said. They just don’t see the point of testing.

    Landon recently got COVID for the first time since the start of the pandemic. When her son came home with the virus, she decided to perform her own experiment. She kept track of her rapids, testing every 12 hours and even taking pictures for proof. Her symptoms started on a Friday night and her initial test was negative. So was Saturday morning’s. By Saturday evening, though, a faint line had begun to emerge, and the next morning—36 hours after symptom onset—the second line was dark. Her advice for those who want the most accurate result and don’t have as many tests to spare is to wait until you’ve had symptoms for two days before testing. And if you’ve been exposed, have symptoms, and only have one test? “You don’t even need to bother. You probably have COVID.”

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    Zoya Qureshi

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