It’s a Wonderful Time to Be Alive

Julian Health, History, Society

It is a wonderful time to be alive.

Not in some abstract, footnote-laden way. In the way you notice when the lights come on, the tap runs hot, the phone finds a doctor, and a plane ticket to see family costs less than a month’s rent used to buy in your parents’ day.

You wake up in a house that would have looked like a palace to almost anyone born before 1900. Heat in winter. Cool air in summer. Food that does not spoil by Thursday. A refrigerator humming in the kitchen like a quiet servant. That is not decadence. That is mercy made ordinary.

Medicine alone would be enough to call this age a gift. A child born today is vastly more likely to see a fifth birthday than a child born in 1990. Global life expectancy has leaped from the mid-40s in 1950 to the low 70s now. Infections that emptied villages are treated with a pill. Cataracts that used to mean darkness are fixed in an afternoon. Hips are replaced. Hearts are opened and closed. Blood pressure is managed. Cancers that once had a single ending now have a map of options. We still lose people we love. We lose far fewer, far later, than any generation before us.

Travel used to be an ordeal reserved for the rich, the desperate, or the drafted. Now a retired couple can fly across the country for a wedding and be home before the leftovers are gone. Oceans that once took weeks are crossed in a night. Maps that were guesses are now a blue dot on a screen. You can stand in a Maryland kitchen and see a grandchild’s face in another state. Your great-grandparents would have called that a miracle and then asked who was paying for the miracle. We pay with a monthly bill and forget to be astonished.

The internet is noisy, rude, and full of nonsense. It is also the largest library ever assembled, open at 2 a.m., free at the point of use. A question that once required a specialist, a trip downtown, and a week of waiting can be answered before the kettle boils. Recipes, repair manuals, language lessons, old hymns, new research, a neighbor’s joke, a doctor’s explanation: all of it arrives in a rectangle you can hold in one hand. That is not a small thing. That is the democratization of knowledge, happening in real time, in your pocket.

And yes—democracy. It is messy. It is loud. It argues in public. That is the point. You can read the paper, curse the government, change your mind, and vote again without asking permission. Most of the human story was lived under people who did not offer that courtesy. The right to speak, worship, move, start a business, and live to complain about the results is not a mood. It is an inheritance. Treat it like one.

Look around the ordinary day. Vaccines in a clinic. Strawberries in January. A washing machine. A hearing aid. A weather forecast that is usually right. A 911 call that brings help. A search bar. A cheap flight. A long life. These are not footnotes to a darker story. They *are* the story.

The professional pessimists will always find a storm. Let them. The rest of us can tell the truth that stares us in the face every morning: we were born into the most comfortable, connected, medically protected, mobile moment ordinary people have ever known in the history of mankind.

Yemen’s Qat Habit

Julian Economy, Education, Health

Qat (also spelled khat) is a highland shrub whose fresh leaves are chewed for a mild stimulant effect. In Yemen it is not a fringe vice. It is a daily social custom for a large share of adult men, a major farm crop, and one of the country’s most stubborn public-health and water problems.

What qat is

The plant is *Catha edulis*. Fresh leaves contain cathinone and, as they dry, cathine. Chewed and packed in the cheek for hours, they produce alertness and a modest euphoria. The effect is closer to a long-acting stimulant than to coffee, and closer to a social ritual than to an injected drug. Sessions often last late into the afternoon. That rhythm shapes workdays, family time, and spending.

How common it is

Surveys do not all use the same questions, but they point the same way.

A World Bank household survey found about 72 percent of Yemeni men and 33 percent of women chewed qat. Of men who chewed, a large share did so most days of the week. Yemen’s 2013 Demographic and Health Survey found 71 percent of men age 15 and older currently used qat and about 55 percent of men 15+ used it daily. Use rises through young adulthood and is highest in the highlands, where the crop is grown. Some local and older studies report even higher male rates in cities such as Sanaa.

Women chew less, and usually separately. Children are not the main market, but the habit often starts in the teens.

How the habit grew

Qat has been used in Yemen for centuries. For a long time it was more occasional and more tied to status. From the 1970s through the 1990s it became mass and often daily. The usual explanations are economic, not conspiratorial: worker remittances, urban wages, cheap diesel that made groundwater pumping affordable, and a crop that pays farmers better than sorghum, millet, or wheat.

What it costs families

Qat is bought with cash, usually by men. Studies over two decades have found that user households spend a large slice of income on leaves — often cited in the range of a tenth to a third of the budget, depending on the year and the sample. In a country where many families live on very little, that competes directly with food, medicine, and school costs.

The pharmacology adds a second squeeze. Qat reduces appetite. Sessions consume hours. The day after a long chew, some users report worse work performance. Nutrition surveys have long linked heavy household qat use with worse child feeding, not because the leaf is a toxin in the child’s bowl, but because money and adult attention go elsewhere.

Health effects in regular adult users are well described and usually unspectacular: insomnia, constipation, dry mouth, irritability, raised heart rate and blood pressure, and lost calories. Dependence — difficulty stopping despite wanting to — is reported by many users. Severe psychiatric reactions occur in a minority; they are not the typical daily outcome.

What it costs the land

This is the part least in dispute among water specialists.

Qat occupies a disproportionate share of irrigated highland land. National estimates have often put it at roughly **30 to 40 percent of irrigation water**. In the Sanaa basin, study after study finds qat using a similar share of agricultural withdrawals, and more than that in some sub-zones. The plant wants frequent irrigation before harvest. Farmers have every reason to pump.

Yemen was already one of the world’s most water-scarce countries. Agriculture takes most of the withdrawals. Groundwater in basins such as Sanaa has been pulled far faster than it refills. Wells have been driven hundreds of meters down. Solar pumps, which spread during the war when diesel was scarce or expensive, made it easier to keep irrigating. Qat is not the only thirsty crop, and mismanagement is not new. It is the crop whose acreage has kept rising while cereals have not.

The result is not a metaphor. It is falling water tables, more expensive well water for cities, and less water left for food crops and taps.

Food insecurity is larger than qat

Yemen’s hunger crisis is driven first by war, a split economy and currency, displacement, and cuts or obstacles to aid. IPC analyses in recent years have classified large populations in Phase 3 (Crisis) and Phase 4 (Emergency), with limited pockets of Phase 5 (Catastrophe) in specific districts at certain times.

Qat belongs on that list of aggravating factors: it soaks up cash, hours, and irrigation water that could go to food. It is not a substitute for an explanation of the war.

Saudi Arabia and the UAE restrict or ban qat. That is a public-health and social-policy choice in those countries.

What would actually reduce the harm

Neutral analysis points to unglamorous tools, most of them tried in pieces and rarely sustained: water-efficient irrigation, ending implicit subsidies that make pumping too cheap, alternative cash crops where they can compete, public information on child nutrition, and treatment for people who want to stop. None of that works well in an active war with two monetary systems and a collapsing aquifer.

The sober summary

Qat is a mainstream male habit in highland Yemen. It drains household cash, competes with food, and uses a striking share of scarce groundwater. Those effects on civilians are documented