Over the course of the next few months, Oxford Urbanists will be publishing dispatches from around the world on what feels like an unprecedented era in modern history, both for cities and the world, during — and perhaps after — the COVID-19 pandemic. We want to know how cities are responding; what lessons we can learn for the future; and how we think cities might change indefinitely.

Unless you’ve been social distancing under a rock, you’ve likely heard that the state of New York has become the epicenter of the coronavirus, with more cases now than any other country. And if so, you may have become vaguely familiar with the state’s governor: Andrew Cuomo.

His daily coronavirus briefings and playful barbs with his TV correspondent-brother, Chris Cuomo, have become a global news cycle staple, often juxtaposed with President Trump’s stream of inconsistencies and media confrontation. The governor’s measured public reassurances have earned him near-universal public praise and trust since the outbreak hit the state’s shores several weeks ago. But I argue the contrary: that the baseline assumptions about Cuomo, and his policies confronting coronavirus — which have largely been seen through the eyes of New York City, its true epicenter, as the governor exerts significant power there — ignore those that may be uncomfortably uncertain, complex, permanent and perhaps even increasingly totalitarian.

Collectively, the American public assumes confidence from a public official equates to good policy: ‘our’ data is relatively accurate, and a total lockdown (albeit one that ends relatively soon) is justified. But what amounts to a ‘good’ coronavirus policy and timeline? Who is Andrew Cuomo, and how has his response evolved? And, ultimately, how well does his response and the underlying values match what New Yorkers need?

At this moment, it’s too early to say Cuomo’s sweeping coronavirus policies (or any leader’s, for that matter) are definitively sensible, though there is room for praise and warning. But everyone’s best estimation is exactly that: no one really knows enough about coronavirus (as both a disease and society-shutter), or the appropriate policies for navigating a pandemic-based paradigm shift. 

And it is most certainly a paradigm shift: current models and expert opinions forecast a wide range of indefinitely disrupted futures. For public health expert Zeke Emanuel, COVID-19 is a “rollercoaster” of peak infections and relative calm, over an optimistic vaccine mass production timeline of 18 months. The idea of a single peak in infections or deaths is dangerous, especially with insufficient testing in the U.S., and he warns of declaring victory too quickly when any curve flattens. 

Emanuel calls for structural, long-term policy reform, which puts economic stamina into question. Rent freezes, for one, aren’t that simple, and don’t address the roots of the problem. Charles Eisenstein, who penned an essay on COVID-19 realities entitled “The Coronation,” would zoom even further out: sweeping policies for a narrow response subtly include an imagined capacity to pick dominoes up after they’ve fallen. If a public health goal is to prevent death, do we sacrifice how we live? In just three weeks, can we assess, with any degree of certainty, whether the benefits of total quarantine will outweigh the costs? 

The scope of policy analysis is key, because the coronavirus policy response goes beyond healthcare: a global shutdown also calls for fiscal and monetary policy levers, which the U.S. federal government mostly controls (and, according to Eurasia Group’s Ian Bremmer, has pulled successfully). Coronavirus was considered low-risk when it entered the American national discourse in January, and it was up to each elected official’s discretion when and how to take it seriously. (The only politician of note with a plan at that point was then-presidential candidate Senator Elizabeth Warren.) Healthcare and public shutdowns are largely left to the states, despite research, most expert data, and medical stockpiles remaining under federal oversight. And in the Trump era, state governors straddle an odd line: compete with one another and flatter President Trump for federal assistance, while acting independently to stockpile their own.

Clearly, a quarantine response is also a public relations one. Pandemic expert Larry Gostin notes, “the first rule of public health is to gain the public’s trust.” So much about coronavirus has been unclear, including who is infected (the rationale for quarantine, since there is currently no cure), that any sort of evidence-based policy is oxymoronic. Lockdowns are meant to show strength, and yet also expose how vulnerable we are. 

However, public relations is a paradoxical sport; leaders cannot purport to know much, yet must project a certain level of certainty. A dynamic policy accommodating uncertainty is best when following the data leads you astray. It requires a certain humbling of decision-makers: they don’t know how drastic the situation is, or will become, because even public health experts are relying on imperfect models and projections.

Now, that brings us back to Andrew Cuomo. Akin to a Roman dictator, Cuomo projects certainty and thrives in crisis. A proud Democratic establishment politician, technocrat, long-rumored presidential candidate, and son of former governor Mario Cuomo, his decade as governor has seen its share of megaprojects, crises, and controversy. His legacy is complicated; through a partisan oddity, he controlled the State Legislature with Republicans and clashes regularly with Democratic rivals, yet ushered in liberal causes like gay marriage and a $15 minimum wage. In cutting through bureaucracy, he often references expert opinion, but, at the same time, wants experts who defer to him behind the scenes. One cannot laud him for failing to care, but he is not a public health expert by trade.

Everyone I’ve talked to in New York has told me: “You have to admit, he’s been doing a great job.” But buyer beware: Cuomo is incredibly media-savvy. Similar to his tactics I’ve studied in public transportation, he is on the policy front lines by necessity, while also creating media attention during a crisis strategically. It appears Cuomo’s primary public goal for coronavirus is to maintain short-term public order, while privately centralizing his authority. Cuomo’s drastic policy maneuvers — both those in and beyond the public eye — underscore our collective desire for control in a situation that questions the wisdom of its limits. 

Let’s take a look at the facts.

New York’s first confirmed coronavirus infection was in early March (though recent research discovered widespread asymptomatic infections several weeks earlier), at which point Cuomo began holding daily press briefings after sparse comments in February. Here’s a timeline of everything he and Trump said during that month, and clips of his comments in February and March. 

But what’s not in the speeches? A $40 million emergency bill passed on March 3 that prompted concerns from civil advocates and politicians of both parties. In that, Cuomo granted himself powers “far more sweeping” than deemed necessary, especially since the existing emergency powers law grants the governor considerable authority. He can now change government funding midyear, rewriting legislative agreements in real time.

Cuomo’s initial media reaction was misleading, and public health response underwhelming. Both he and New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio “projected an unswerving confidence that the outbreak would be readily contained,” according to The New York Times. He publicly assured constituents of contact tracing of New York’s first case that ultimately never came. On March 10, Cuomo then declared a relatively unscientific and porous illusion of a mile-wide containment zone around an outbreak linked to a suburban synagogue, arguably taking attention from combating looming outbreaks in the city. Fortunately, this did catalyze Cuomo’s earliest push for testing with public-private partnerships, a crucial effort that has seen labs across New York more active than in any other state.

At this point, Cuomo’s public tenor changed; one could describe the shift as ‘presidential.’ After he and Mayor de Blasio initially (and notoriously, for the mayor) belittled the virus, Cuomo took public-facing measures as a call to action amidst pleas to a federal government playing catch-up. This is the beginning of Cuomo’s coronavirus response the world knows: his first interview with brother Chris; reminders to prepare for tough times ahead; and, on March 20, the announcement New York was going on ‘PAUSE.’ PAUSE — New York’s stay-at-home order — also issued moratoriums on evictions (not without equity-based criticism), and expanded limits on visits to the seemingly most vulnerable 70+ population. PAUSE’s name is also telling: it suggests an ability to press ‘play.’

Gov. Cuomo waited until March 22 for these stay-at-home orders to go into effect, worried “panic is outpacing the reality.” For comparison: Seattle closed schools on March 11, San Francisco and Ohio on March 12, and California issued stay-at-home orders on March 17. Despite insisting (in Trumpian fashion) that “you won’t find a state that moved faster than New York” in his defense against “media games,” Washington, California and Ohio actually did. Those states chose to ignore the federal government, while Cuomo spent more time pleading for Trump to act. (Although in transportation, Cuomo had already learned he can’t count on Trump; evidently, COVID-19 proved no different.) 

The delay has since come under intense scrutiny, particularly with the revelation that an extra week without quarantine exposed 50 to 80 percent more people than necessary. Admittedly, it is extremely difficult choosing between inciting panic and imposing draconian orders, but if a quarantine was going to happen, waiting made little sense. Mayor de Blasio’s insistence to keep New York City’s public schools open hindered Cuomo’s efforts, a wound the two reopened with last week’s competing announcements on keeping schools closed through September. Years of bickering drove a wedge into statewide coordination.

After having unified control across the state prior to a dramatic spike in hospitalizations, Cuomo has since impressively scaled up his response. His national and international negotiations for ventilators grew New York’s stockpile by several thousand, and his innovative proposal to pool 20 percent of excess ventilator capacity created a single statewide hospital network to flexibly shift resources to more affected areas. Calls to mobilize prospective healthcare workers brought local medical graduates and retired professionals, plus personnel across the country to New York’s front lines. Mandates expanded all hospital bed capacities by a 50 percent minimum, New York’s largest convention center transformed into a massive COVID-19 facility, and Cuomo persuaded Trump to bring a retired 1,000 bed hospital boat into New York Harbor. Last week, he announced a $200 million emergency food relief fund, plus discussions for first responders relief.

The scale mobilizes an impression of policy success: it’s essential to energize my friends suffering unconscionably as ICU nurses, and also keep everyone else resigned to accommodating at home. This is the essence of a public Cuomo crisis response: impress upon the public something so drastic that people must change their behavior for the public good. As with some splashy efforts to overhaul New York’s public transportation, a shiny hospital boat has not proven very helpful, but it is part of getting everyone to care about moving towards an answer. And, in public health, that’s half the battle.

Judging Cuomo based on today’s results is fundamentally flawed: every statistic has a counter-factuality. Hospitalizations have slowed significantly this week, which is terrific news, but there’s an uptick in people dying at home instead of getting medical care for coronavirus, not to mention other illnesses. As mentioned, New York now has more confirmed cases of coronavirus than any country, but thanks to Cuomo, it’s also testing far more people per day than any other state in the country. Cuomo’s been able to gather more ventilators outside his state than any other governor, but the jury is still out on ventilators as hospitals run short on basic supplies. One could argue the governor’s actions have saved lives, but another could suggest he’s been chasing the wrong crises as others silently coalesce.

Overall, Cuomo’s policies have seemingly have been able to curb New York City’s initial spread of coronavirus, but he’s a big part of why it became so disastrous in the first place — blaming density doesn’t work in ex-urban Suffolk County’s emerging hotspots. Compared to California’s Gov. Gavin Newsom and Washington’s Gov. Jay Inslee, Cuomo waited and enacted half-measures. But compared to Georgia’s Gov. Brian Kemp and Oklahoma’s Gov. Kevin Stitt, Cuomo looks like a cutting-edge, straight-talking savant. 

Coronavirus, as an incredibly tragic and inconvenient pause in history, has given us an unprecedented opportunity for reform. It’s been another reminder that collectivist approaches are necessary for society-scorchers, like climate change. And it is also a chance to amplify totalitarian trends and inequality.

On the first of every April, New York’s state budget is due. And this year, Cuomo dominated another coinciding battle behind closed doors. Publicly, it’s borderline insulting to discuss anything other than coronavirus: Cuomo’s nationally-televised rhetoric suggests as much, insisting “there is no politics” in a time like this. Except coronavirus has brought out power and politics like none other, as the world descends further into a state of exception. So somehow it became leverage for an “entire wish list” of unrelated budget items, like undoing criminal justice reform, curbing third parties with campaign finance regulations, and cutting funding to NYC schools and hospitals. It seems that New Yorkers’ near-unanimous public support for his handling of coronavirus has granted Cuomo the leeway to tighten his grip. Wings of both parties consider the budget “full of perversities,” yet even elected officials seemed powerless in the face of “Viktor Orbán on the Hudson.”

In this major (inter)national moment for him, Cuomo has explained things clearly and directly. He has repeatedly told the public not to thank him and — despite calls to challenge Joe Biden for the Democratic nomination — that he is definitely not considering a run for president. At best, he’s playing anonymous donor; at worst, the man he’s potentially looking to replace. 

Yet plenty remains to be seen: how coronavirus continues to spread; whether Cuomo deserves praise (and even runs for president); and if leaders everywhere are doing irreparable damage with indefinite quarantines (concerns are here, here, and here). What and where is the next emerging coronavirus crisis that leaders should already be preparing for? And how should they prepare?

It goes without saying: these times require humbling, and teamwork. They require Cuomo — a “competent egomaniac” who exploits crises for private control and public recognition — to admit fallibility and cooperate with fellow politicians in crafting dynamic, long-term policy. In that way, coronavirus is really asking a lot.

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Tim Lazaroff is a freelance journalist and researcher. His areas of interest include political communications and transport governance. A native New Yorker and University of Pennsylvania dual degree graduate, he now studies Urban Management at Technical University Berlin.