‘Have I shed tears? Oh, yeah’
The gravel is gone now. For months, it was right there – at the back of his throat. Dr Anthony Fauci, the world’s most famous doctor, was losing his voice.
He’d been talking for 17 hours a day, dispensing free advice to anyone who would take it.
Wear a mask. Wash your hands. Stay at home. Save lives.
‘‘My responsibility is to watch out for the health and safety of the American public,’’ he says, ‘‘and indirectly, the health and safety of the entire world.’’
Fauci, the director of the United States’ National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, did so much talking that he developed a polyp in his throat, and had it cut out in August. Just days later, he was back on TV.
Here in New Zealand, he appeared on our screens looking like Ashley Bloomfield’s American uncle: equally bespeckled, calm, earnest and enlightened.
But while Bloomfield enjoyed unwavering support from Jacinda Ardern, Fauci found himself at war with his boss – Donald Trump.
‘‘The toughest decision I had to make was to publicly contradict the president of the United States,’’ he recalls. ‘‘That is not an easy thing to do. But there were things [he was saying] that, scientifically, I felt had no basis.’’
From the very beginning, Trump thumbed his nose at Covid-19. In February, he claimed the virus was going to ‘‘disappear’’. He suggested that hydroxychloroquine, an antimalaria drug, could cure the illness.
‘‘I knew that was not the case,’’ says Fauci, who has served six presidents as a top infectious disease specialist. ‘‘[The virus] was not going to disappear. And I knew from scientific clinical trials that hydroxychloroquine was not an effective drug against Covid-19.’’
Fauci spoke out, warning Americans to take precautions. The commander-in-chief undermined him, mocked him and claimed he was a ‘‘disaster’’.
In what felt like a dystopian episode of The Apprentice, Trump appeared at a midnight election rally, where thousands of people chanted, ‘‘Fire Fauci!’’
Relishing the prospect, Trump replied: ‘‘Don’t tell anybody, but let me wait until a little bit after the election!’’
Ultimately, it was Trump who was shown the door. Fauci is now left to clean up the mess and unite a country that is riddled with disbelief and distrust.
The doctor has got his voice back – and it’s brimming with carefully controlled rage.
‘‘Despite hospitals close to being overrun with very sick patients, we have people who live in the same areas who believe that this is all fake. That it’s a hoax. That it doesn’t exist.
‘‘It’s very difficult to pull together as a nation and get an outbreak under control when a certain proportion of the country doesn’t believe there is a problem. That is stunning.’’
Last week, the United States’ death rate hit a record high, and Fauci reckons the worst may be yet to come.
‘‘Have I shed tears? Oh, yeah. I’m a pretty tearful guy sometimes. Over 280,000 Americans have died from Covid-19. There have been over 200,000 new cases a day. Between two and three thousand deaths.
‘‘Tears usually well up when I’m thoroughly exhausted. When, at the end of the day, I’m sitting at my desk and I open my computer and see the numbers. That’s when, sometimes, I just can’t help but tear up.’’
It’s Wednesday in Maryland. At 5am, Fauci shaved and showered, then padded downstairs where he had a ‘‘light breakfast’’ and powered up his computer.
‘‘I have an email problem. I get well over 1000 emails a day. My staff generally weed out the ones that are superficial, but they let through the ones I have to see – a couple of hundred a day. At least. Maybe more.’’
After ‘‘whittling away’’ at his inbox for two hours, a car arrived. ‘‘Because I have had threats to my life – and to the safety of my family – I have a security detail that stays with me all the time. I got into my armoured vehicle and drove to work. And then it started.’’
‘‘It’’ is the punishing schedule Fauci has endured all year, with workdays up to 20 hours long. At 7.30am, from his office in Washington, DC, he did a magazine interview before meeting his staff.
At 8.30am, he visited a hospital where, astonishingly, he still works as a practising senior physician. He met two patients with Covid-19, and did clinical rounds. ‘‘There are no spaces between my meetings. They go from one to the other.’’
At 9.30am, he had a virtual catch-up with people involved in developing one of the Covid-19 vaccines. (Fauci’s own team did the groundwork for the breakthrough.)
By the time I called at 2.30pm, he had also spoken at two conferences, done a live interview with CNN, and talked to a black doctors’ organisation. Later, he’ll do more TV, meet the transition team for president-elect Joe Biden, speak to his lab staff, and read reports until 7.30pm.
‘‘Then I’ll go home, go for a quick run for 45 minutes, then get in front of my computer and hit the emails. I feel so tired, I have to go to sleep around 11.30pm. That’s a typical day.’’
At 79, Fauci displays remarkable stamina and single-mindedness, especially compared to Trump, who is five years younger.
The pair haven’t talked in two months. ‘‘The last time I actually spoke with him was when he was in the hospital [with Covid] at Walter Reed Medical Centre, across the street from where I am now,’’ says Fauci.
‘‘He called me up and was talking a bit about his illness and his treatment. I haven’t spoken to him since.’’
Does it irk Fauci that he has been frozen out? ‘‘Not really. When I looked at the TV and saw the Greek chorus saying ‘Fire Fauci’, it did not bother me as much as one would have thought. It wasn’t pleasant, but I said to myself, ‘I have a bigger, more important job to worry about’.
‘‘It became very difficult, but I had to live by my convictions. I’ve had to sharpen my resolve to just focus – like a laser beam – on what my responsibility is.’’
Although his role is apolitical, Fauci is optimistic about the new administration. Biden has promoted the doctor, making him the chief medical adviser.
‘‘[Biden] wants to make his decisions based on the science, and on the advice of public health people. He is going to listen to our recommendations in the making of policy.’’
Fauci has publicly praised New Zealand’s efforts to fight Covid19. But I also sense he’s frustrated by comparisons between our country and the US.
‘‘We have 330 million people. We have a great deal of variability – geographically, demographically and culturally, depending on whether you’re in New York City or Casper, Wyoming.’’
On top of that diversity, there’s division – especially in a two-party political system, fuelled by toxic leadership, conspiracy theories and social media.
‘‘The public health response has almost taken on a political connotation,’’ he observes. ‘‘Wearing a mask becomes a political statement. Avoiding group settings becomes a political statement. It becomes very difficult to implement public health measures when you’re dealing with a very divisive society.’’
In New Zealand, he agrees a special effort should be made to ensure the vaccine reaches Ma¯ ori, who have historically received inequitable treatment in the health system. ‘‘It’s absolutely critical, just in the same way that we in the United States must reach out to our minority communities, particularly African Americans and Latinx [the genderneutral term for Latin Americans].
‘‘In some respects, similar to the Ma¯ ori, they have healthcare accessibility that is not optimal. They have underlying diseases and underlying co-morbidities that are greater in prevalence than in the general population.’’
It’s also important, he says, to provide ‘‘community outreach’’ to groups that may be vulnerable to misinformation. ‘‘We’re trying that here in the United States, using people who are trusted by their own communities, to get African Americans involved in getting vaccinated, getting tested and benefiting from the advances in science.’’
However, before the vaccine arrives, nearly 300,000 Americans will have died from Covid. Does Fauci feel a personal sense of guilt?
‘‘I think it’s a natural emotion, to feel that. Even though you really don’t have much control over it, there’s that feeling of, ‘Could I have done better? Is there something I didn’t do right?’ You can’t let it paralyse you.’’
Fauci is reluctant to be drawn on any regrets, but hints that the US could have gone harder and earlier, as New Zealand did.
‘‘Probably, in the very beginning of the outbreak when we saw community spread, maybe we should have been more aggressive in getting the country to shut down. But I think, quite frankly, if we had asked the country to shut down, no-one would have responded to us.
‘‘[In hindsight], I likely would have tried to do that – but I doubt I would have been successful.’’
Fauci has spent 36 years fighting diseases such as HIV/ Aids, Sars and H1N1. In the twilight of his career, his star is shining brighter than ever.
Sure, he was played by Brad Pitt on Saturday Night Live. However, his true impact transcends pop culture. American universities are reporting a spike in applications for medical school – a phenomenon dubbed ‘‘the Fauci effect’’.
But this silver lining offers barely a glint around the edges of an otherwise dark cloud. Covid has affected people close to Fauci. The brother of his daughter’s boyfriend – ‘‘a 32-year-old, perfectly healthy young man’’ – developed heart problems from it. In less than a week, he was dead.
At 79, Fauci is especially vulnerable. If infected, he would be at ‘‘high risk of serious complications’’.
Even so, he soldiers on with the support of his wife, Dr Christine Grady, a respected bioethicist. ‘‘She’s an amazing woman,’’ says Fauci. ‘‘Extremely insightful, very empathetic – but she’s firm.
‘‘When she sees me overdoing it – not eating, or going into the night when I should just put down the computer and go to sleep – she will come in and say, ‘OK, Tony. Enough is enough. You’re going to kill yourself. Get out of there.’ ’’
On Christmas Eve, Fauci will celebrate his 80th birthday. His three adult daughters will offer only virtual hugs. They don’t want to risk their dad’s health by paying him a visit.
Speaking of visits, Ardern recently announced that Santa has been cleared to enter New Zealand without spending 14 days in isolation. Her rationale: there’s no Covid at the North Pole.
I ask Fauci whether he’ll make a similar exemption, for the sake of American children.
‘‘Oh, absolutely!’’ he says cheerily. ‘‘There’s no doubt. I’ve actually checked out Santa myself. I went up there and did an immunological profile on him, and he’s definitely protected against Covid.
‘‘He can’t get infected, and he can’t infect anybody else. So, Santa can come to the United States.’’
Fauci wants, but doesn’t expect, a Christmas miracle: the end of the outbreak.
‘‘In lieu of that, how about just one relaxed evening with my wife, sitting under the Christmas tree? That would be fine.’’
As I hear the ringing of sleigh bells – or, more likely, another phone call for Fauci – I squeeze in one last question. Is he expecting a gift from President Trump?
Down the line, there’s a belly laugh that Santa would be proud of.
‘‘I doubt it!’’
The Government has promised to improve and amend hatespeech laws, and create new, hate-motivated offences in the wake of the mosque attacks.
However, nothing will be done without widespread consultation, Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern has said. Meaning, it’s fair to ask whether anything will be done at all.
On Tuesday, the royal commission of inquiry made public its 44 recommendations, including the need to ensure legislation relating to hate speech and crime is fit for purpose.
The commission found the current laws ‘‘neither appropriately capture the culpability of hatemotivated offending, nor provide workable mechanisms to deal with hate speech’’.
The proposed changes
Currently, hate crime isn’t a standalone offence. What’s commonly referred to as a hate crime is an offence motivated by hostility, which is considered an aggravating factor under the Sentencing Act 2002.
The commission recommended the creation of new, hate-motivated offences in the Summary Offences Act 1981 and the Crimes Act 1961 and hate-motivated offences for assault, arson and intentional damage that correspond with existing offences in the Crimes Act.
It also recommended changes to current hate speech laws, which are confusing and rarely used.
In short, the changes would see the legal language ‘‘sharpened’’ and religion added to the list of protected characteristics. They would also repeal and replace the section in the Human Rights Act 1993 relating to racial disharmony with a new, equivalent offence in the Crimes Act.
But unlike hate crime (such as a hate-motivated assault), hate speech is not always so obviously illegal. The line between legitimately criminalised hate speech and a vigorous exercise of the right to express opinion can be blurry.
The Bill of Rights Act 1990 says everyone has the right to freedom of expression, ‘‘including the freedom to seek, receive, and impart information and opinions of any kind in any form’’. This right is limited only by, ‘‘such reasonable limits prescribed by law as can be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society’’.
Of course, one person’s idea of ‘‘reasonable limits’’ may differ from another’s.
‘‘These are issues that are longstanding, they pre-date March 15, and affect many groups in community including LGBTQI and religious groups,’’ Ardern said on Tuesday.
Police also announced Te Raranga, The Weave, to ‘‘drive improvements in frontline police practice to identify, record, and manage hate crime’’.
‘‘I know this is a contentious area, and we will work with determination to try and form that consensus if we can,’’ Ardern said. But the broad spectrum of views among political parties raises questions of whether that would ever be possible.
National Party leader Judith Collins was wary of the proposed changes: ‘‘In principle, we support strengthening the role of our security and intelligence agencies but we must tread carefully to safeguard New Zealanders’ rights and liberties.’’
ACT leader David Seymour at Parliament on Tuesday said it would be ‘‘wrong to introduce British-style hate-speech laws without even the exemptions for free and fair debate that those laws have in Britain’’. ACT previously said it wants to abolish the Human Rights Commission and repeal existing hate speech laws.
Green MP Golriz Ghahraman responded: ‘‘We will update our hate speech laws to be inclusive and effective, as the Green Party has campaigned on for over two years.’’
Eenforcement matters
In June, Guled Mire, one of the organisers of Wellington’s Black Lives Matter protest, told me Facebook had done more to address online threats he’d received than the authorities. An Auckland man, using what appeared to be his real name, sent Mire messages telling him to ‘‘lay low, or else’’.
Facebook removed the account for violating its community standards, but officers told Mire there was nothing they could do because there was no identifiable risk to his safety.
Victoria University law lecturer Dr Eddie Clark says it’s time we acknowledged hate speech can cause harm. ‘‘There’s some argument we should only regulate hate speech when it’s directly tied to causing physical violence. But that’s just not the way we deal with speech liability in other contexts.’’
He notes the Harmful Digital Communications Act 2015 doesn’t require a link to physical harm, nor do defamation or privacy laws.
‘‘We need to start these discussions from the position that, we have