147. Statistics—and nature’s own remedy

I can’t remember where I read or heard it, but I swear that President Harry Truman once said that a 5% unemployment rate wouldn’t hurt him, but that “when 25 percent of the population seriously fears being in the 5%-I’d be in trouble.” 

I think about this when I hear covid infection, vaccination, and death rates. And I wonder how the percentages will play out, how I might adjust Truman’s theory to fit today’s Covid facts. It’s of course more complicated, because infection itself ranges from mild to serious, and deaths might be miss-attributed to other causes.

But still, what might today’s numbers and rates of infection tell us about tomorrow? And how do we or can we compare this time in this pandemic with its own past, with what is going on in other states and countries, and even with 1918. For example, we have passed 800,000 deaths in the US; there were 675,000 US deaths with the 1918 pandemic. Our population—326.7 million, is over three times that of 1918—103.2 million. If we were at 2,500,000 deaths now, would it make a difference?  

Here’s another statistic: Covid deaths in Trump voting counties across the country are three times higher than in Biden counties. Will this make a long-term difference?

And here is the sweet one; nature—maybe—is finding its own remedy. First reports are that the new Omicron variant of the coronavirus might prove more transmissible but less deadly than past variants. Which might mean that the vaunted “natural immunity” that is touted by some, might actually rise up with massive, but light, infections across the Trump counties and the hold-outs elsewhere. When that happens, some might decide to get vaccinated, and, although all studies show that natural immunity is not as strong as the vaccines, enough people will be infected quickly enough to reach some kind of herd immunity.

Previous plagues and epidemics have wound down when the virus did not have enough ready hosts; a kind of herd immunity of 80 or 90% of a population was either vaccinated or had become ill with the disease. 

Uncertainty is our new best neighbor—but maybe…. 

 

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