- Monday, April 13, 2020

The coronavirus is a once-in-a-lifetime catastrophe. As the pandemic continues to savage the nation, government is sparing no effort to minimize the tragic toll in lost lives. When the fog of the war on disease finally lifts, Americans should ask for a clear-eyed review of the battle. One common-sense reform is worth consideration: Making federal disaster designation a more precise response to differing conditions on the ground rather than a bureaucratic rubber stamp.

The White House Coronavirus Task Force briefings include a daily update of the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s (FEMA) tally of major disaster declarations. On Saturday, Wyoming became the 50th state to gain major disaster status. There is no doubt that, overall, the virus (COVID-19) has been the very definition of disaster. As of this writing, upwards of 560,000 cases of infection have been recorded across the United States, with more than 22,000 deaths.

In FEMA parlance, “major disaster declaration” is a specific legal term, but with a broad meaning: “The President can declare a Major Disaster Declaration for any natural event, including any hurricane, tornado, storm, high water, wind-driven water, tidal wave, tsunami, earthquake, volcanic eruption, landslide, mudslide, snowstorm, or drought, or, regardless of cause, fire, flood, or explosion, that the President believes has caused damage of such severity that it is beyond the combined capabilities of state and local governments to respond.”

Although not spelled out, “pandemic” clearly belongs among the string of listed calamities, making declaration recipients eligible for “a wide range of federal assistance programs.” Less evident is whether the coronavirus has actually visited catastrophe upon every state of the union, not to mention some far-flung territories that have earned the designation, like the Pacific Ocean’s Northern Mariana Islands.

For some American metropolises, “major disaster” doesn’t fully capture the enormity of human suffering. With three international airports within 15 miles of its limits, New York City was overrun with thousands of virus-carrying inbound travelers before the pandemic was recognized. Tragically, the invisible virus has killed more than 6,700 individuals in the city, or 80 persons per 100,000, and more than 9,400 statewide, or 48 persons per 100,000, according to The New York Times. Neighboring New Jersey, another FEMA COVID-19 disaster designee, has lost more than 2,300 individuals, or 26 persons per 100,000.

Other beneficiary entities have escaped with little loss of life thus far. Several hundred miles to the north, Vermont has lost 27 lives to the virus, or 4 persons per 100,000. Alaska, 4,000 miles from New York, received disaster status after losing six individuals, or less than 1 person per 100,000. Sprawling Anchorage has averaged one coronavirus death per 426 square miles, while tightly packed New York City has been wracked by more than 22 deaths per square mile. In remote Wyoming, the final addition to the disaster list, 270 individuals have caught the virus but no one has died, thankfully. That’s the sort of “disaster” New Yorkers would gladly suffer.

While jurisdictions both brushed and devastated by COVID-19 earn the same disaster designation, other sorts of misfortune are treated with a more discerning eye. Last week, FEMA rejected an application from Texas’ Dallas County for a major disaster declaration resulting from the outbreak of tornadoes in October. Insurance is covering around half of the estimated $130 million in damages to local schools, according to the Dallas Morning News. “Major disaster” designation can mean up to 75 percent coverage of damage for state and local governments. But FEMA turned thumbs-down and, instead of reimbursement, Dallas got rejection.

When finally tallied, the costs incurred by states near the virus epicenter are likely to be astronomical, but minimal for those multiple time zones away. To lump the heavily and lightly afflicted together under the label of “major disaster” is, by our reckoning, the sort of blunt-instrument bureaucracy that President Trump was elected to challenge.

The coronavirus pandemic is destined to leave lasting scars on the hearts of millions of Americans and, in particular, those who have lost loved ones to its cruel ravages. When the day arrives to adjudge the federal government’s reaction to this modern plague, an approach to disaster designation better matched to the asymmetrical contours of the contagion should displace the current rubber-stamp response.

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