- State & Local
- California
Some July dates are etched in the brain – the fourth day of this month, if you’re a patriotic American; the 14th day, if you happen to be an avid Francophile.
As a Californian, I have July 13 circled on my calendar. That’s because on that date three years ago, governor Gavin Newsom held a press conference announcing the statewide closure of a host of indoor activities, ranging from socializing in bars and dining in restaurants to exercising in gyms, taking in a movie, or getting a haircut—and, yes, attending indoor church services (six months later, the Supreme Court ruled that California had to modify its church restriction by allowing indoor services but could limit attendance to 25% of capacity).
Newsom’s announcement, unpleasant as it was, included one of his trademark word salads: “We’re moving back into a modification mode of our original stay-at-home order, but doing so utilizing what commonly is referred to as a dimmer switch, not an on-and-off switch.”
Unfortunately, Newsom went back for seconds at the salad bar, adding the following (good luck reading it aloud in one breath): “The point of a dimmer switch was to make the point that as data, trendlines, as the experience of reopening in different parts of the state and people beginning to mix in different parts of the state begin to manifest, different conditions would present themselves, and as a consequence we wanted to be prepared for those conditions based on the trendlines, based on the data, based on the science, to modify our stay-at-home order subsequently, meaning not on—open economy—or off—shut down—but a dimmer switch, looking at conditions throughout the nation’s most populous state as they present themselves, as those trendlines become points of concern, before they invariably become headlines.”
Phew!
As California has now passed the midpoint of 2023, the temptation might be to look at this decade’s great public-health crisis in the rearview mirror (it was only at the end of February of this year that the Golden State officially lifted its COVID-19 state of emergency—that change coming just a week shy of its three-year anniversary).
My question: How prepared is California for the next time a pandemic forces state government—its bureaucrats and its elected leaders—to step up its game? That includes the following . . .
EDD . . . or FUBAR? Anyone looking for the embodiment of what ailed California’s government during its COVID struggles should start by swinging by the offices of the state’s Employment Development Department (EDD, for short).
Why EDD? Because state officials would later discover that it managed to delay unemployment payments to some five million Californians while improperly denying payments for another one million workers. Meanwhile, fraudsters managed to rip off EDD to the tune of $32 billion or more in phony claims per various state and industry estimates.
The question: Is EDD any better prepared for the next crisis?
Some recommended summer reading: first, this 2022 Legislative Analyst’s Office report which found that more than half of unemployment insurance claims that EDD denies are overturned on appeal (the good news: the same report includes recommendations for fixing EDD’s flaws).
Also a must-read: this book, authored by a former technology officer enlisted by the Newsom administration to help EDD deal with the unemployment tsunami. Her brutal assessment: “Of all the tech disasters I’ve witnessed and tried to help untangle, the one I’ve come to see as most emblematic of these forces—and the ways we consistently misunderstand them—is the story of California’s unemployment insurance in the first year of the pandemic.”
New Newsom or Old Newsom? One can argue than the pandemic was the crisis that Newsom needed—at least, in the presentation portion of his approach to governing the Golden State.
The governor eventually parted ways with his tedious and oft confusing press briefings. A September 2021 recall election showed Newsom that there is such a thing as angry vox populi in the Golden State—even though Newsom easily beat back the recall attempt by making it a referendum on Donald Trump rather than the governor’s restriction-defying dining habits.
Keep in mind: the pandemic struck California in early 2020 and amidst a presidential election in which Newsom was more an observer than a participant. Not that he’s an announced candidate this time around, but Newsom does little to discourage White House speculation—for example, this early July journey to Idaho to raise money for that state’s Democratic party.
Why Idaho? Well, obviously because someone asked him to fly north. But also this very cynical scenario: in an alternative universe in which President Biden chooses not to run and Newsom then enters the race, what’s Newsom’s strategy? One option would be the run as a “western” alternative—Newsom racking up wins in Idaho, Montana, Oregon, and Washington, all of which vote after California’s March 5 primary.
The question: Should another pandemic strike, would Newsom be able to moonlight as a party surrogate, much less seek the presidency, while also tending to his day job in Sacramento?
We the People. I know . . . I know. We’re in July and those are the first words in the US Constitution, not the Declaration of Independence.
But the words are germane to this question: Should another pandemic occur and the Golden State once again go down the road of lockdowns and varying county restrictions, will the citizenry go along wisth the program?
One possible flashpoint: public schools. During the pandemic, Newsom was whipsawed between competing interests—parental groups that wanted schools reopened and teachers’ unions seemingly in no hurry to return to the classroom.
A look back at how Sacramento officialdom handled schools and COVID is a primer in foot-dragging. While approving the state’s 2020–21 budget, California’s legislature threw in this trailer bill calling for school districts and charter schools to “offer in-person instruction to the greatest extent possible.” At the year’s end, Newsom unveiled a $2 billion four-point program to accelerate school reopenings, with this insistence: “Resuming in-person instruction is critical for kids, families and communities throughout the state.”
But in California’s case, “critical” wasn’t synonymous with “hasty.”
By the end of April 2021, only one in six students were physically back on campus and attending in-person classes full time.
Which leads to a final question: Facing the same scenario as in 2020 and 2021, would Newsom use his emergency powers to decree that schoolkids return to the classroom (which he may or may not be able to do, as the governor, legislators, the State Board of Education, and a hodgepodge of local education officials all claim decision-making authority)?
If so, it would be a different sort of pandemic in California. Unfortunately, physical suffering and economic hardship. But should a Democratic governor with national aspirations decide to rattle the education establishment’s cage: not a viral case, but instead a case of hell freezing over.
