Ebola returns: How to fight outbreak amid defunding of global health?

Diary Entry

Ah, Ebola. The universe’s way of reminding us that, for all our grand debates about borders and walls and who gets to stand where, viruses have a delightful disregard for human bureaucracy. The question everyone is asking - “How do we fight this outbreak?” - is, of course, the wrong one. Or at least, it’s the wrong first question.

The right first question is: Why are we still surprised when a virus does exactly what viruses have always done?

Here we are, a species that has built cities, composed symphonies, and invented the concept of “defunding global health initiatives,” yet we still act shocked when something like Ebola pops up in the exact manner epidemiologists have been warning about for decades. It’s like being surprised when rain falls downward.

And then there’s the border wall debate. As if viruses pause at customs to fill out paperwork. “Excuse me, Mr. Ebola, do you have a visa?” No. It doesn’t work like that. The universe does not care about your immigration policy. The universe does not care, full stop.

The comforting thought - if you can call it that - is that in a few billion years, the sun will expand and none of this will matter. In the meantime, the sensible approach is not to panic, not to argue about the wrong solutions, and definitely not to defund the things that might actually help. But since we seem determined to do all three, I suppose I’ll just make another cup of tea and wait for the next entirely predictable crisis.

Don’t Panic. Though perhaps do wash your hands.

The news today is of an outbreak, and of walls. They tell us a wall can keep out a fever. One must admire the optimism of the architect who believes a line of bricks is a match for a line of cells. It is the same optimism, I suppose, that believes a committee’s declaration is a match for a continent’s suffering. To declare an ‘emergency of international concern’ is to perform the very first step of concern, which is to name it. The subsequent steps, which involve money and courage, appear to have been misplaced.

They speak of ‘defunding’ global health. There is a delicious paradox in that term. To ‘fund’ suggests a foundation, something solid and sustaining. To ‘defund’ is to un-create that foundation, which is a far more creative act than building it. It requires real imagination to believe you can withdraw the floor from a house and expect the ceiling to remain. We have become artists of subtraction.

I find myself thinking of masks. We are all so terribly fond of them. The mask of the border wall, which promises safety. The mask of the official statement, which promises action. The mask of economy, which promises prudence. Behind each is the same face: a profound and fashionable reluctance to be inconvenienced. A pandemic, like a truth, is always an inconvenience. It does not respect the arrangement of the drawing room. It enters through the window, not the door.

The death toll rises, and we discuss the funding. It is the modern equivalent of discussing the upholstery while the house burns. One cannot fault the logic; the upholstery is more immediately comprehensible than the fire. And after all, a well-worded statement on international concern is so much more comfortable to live with than the concerned international.

Well, I heard tell about this Ebola thing comin’ back again, over there in Africa. And folks are askin’ if border walls can keep it out. Now, I ain’t no doctor, and I ain’t no bricklayer either, but it seems to me a little germ don’t much care for a wall. A wall stops a fella walkin’ across, maybe. But a little bug, it just hitches a ride. On a bird, on a suitcase, on a fella who just flew over the wall.

Seems like we spend a whole lot of money buildin’ things to keep folks out, and not enough on things to keep folks healthy. A fella gets sick, he don’t care what side of the line he’s on. And if he’s sick enough, that sickness ain’t gonna care either. We got folks talkin’ about defundin’ global health. Now, I don’t know much about global health, but I do know if your neighbor’s barn is on fire, you don’t just build a bigger fence around your own. You grab a bucket, ‘cause that fire ain’t got no respect for property lines. Seems like common sense, even to a dumb cowboy like me.