Would Kourtney Kardashian have apologized to Kim Kardashian if they didn't have their Armenia trip planned? That very question was addressed in this bonus clip from season 18 of...

The Canadian military is still determining how to raise the wreckage of a military helicopter that crashed into the Mediterranean Sea last week, Defence Minister Harjit Sajjan said Thursday.

As talk of reopening aspects of society continue across the country, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Canada Richard Wagner and federal Justice Minister David Lametti have begun a study into how courts could safely begin to resume regular operations in light of COVID-19.

Coronavirus: the symptoms Follow our live coronavirus updates here Who is Robert Jenrick?

Tracy Brabin has said she will have to change her phone number after it was inadvertently shown on screen while she was being interviewd on ITV's This Morning.

Jeremy Corbyn's allies have been accused of using a report to "smear whistleblowers" and "discredit allegations" of anti-Semitism in the Labour Party during his tenure.

Follow our live Covid-19 updates here

We were too slow to implement lockdown and make sure it was policed, Labour leader tells Tories Follow our live coronavirus updates HERE Coronavirus: the symptoms

Follow our live coronavirus updates HERE Coronavirus: The symptoms

Follow our live coronavirus updates here

Coronavirus: the symptoms Read our LIVE updates on the coronavirus here

MPs have approved hybrid proceedings in the House of Commons with some MPs set to attend via video link amid the coronavirus lockdown.

Dominic Raab will today be grilled over the Government's handling of the coronavirus crisis amid calls for an inquiry into its "slow response".

Follow our live Covid-19 updates HERE

Pressure ramped up on ministers to explain how the lockdown will end today as senior Tory MPs warned that businesses around the country "fear for their future" and could pass the point of no recovery.

Celebrities have backed calls for Home Secretary Priti Patel to end restrictions that prevent thousands of migrants in the UK from accessing financial support during the coronavirus crisis.

A row has broken out over Boris Johnson's chief adviser Dominic Cummings attending meetings of the senior scientists advising the Government on the coronavirus outbreak.

Sir Keir Starmer has urged the Government to publish an exit strategy for the coronavirus lockdown amid warnings the country could "fall behind" without one.

He has now been absent from the front line of the Government response for a month, after his three-week recovery period at the Chequers official residence in Buckinghamshire.

It is "too early" to begin easing any lockdown measures "in any meaningful way", Nicola Sturgeon has said.

Read the full interview HERE

Too many workers are still falling through cracks in the Covid rescue package, a former cabinet minister warned today as he called for the lockdown to be eased "as quickly as possible".

Asked by LBC's Nick Ferrari if he would join them, Mr Jenrick said: "No, I don't think I would do. But I'm not going to pass judgement on other people and what they're choosing to do.

Sir Keir Starmer has urged the Prime Minister to form a "national consensus" on the next phase of the Government's coronavirus response as ministers work on plans to ease the lockdown.

Lockdown measures may start to be lifted on Monday "if we possibly can", Boris Johnson has announced.

Matt Hancock has slammed Professor Neil Ferguson for his "extraordinary" breach of coronavirus lockdown rules, adding he was left "speechless" by his actions.

It should have been the first litmus test of Sir Keir Starmer's appeal - as well as a verdict on whether Boris Johnson's general election earthquake in former Red Wall regions translated into long term local success

The Government has failed to meet its 100,000 coronavirus daily testing target for the fifth day running as criticism mounts on ministers to bolster supplies.

Needing to clear my head, I went down to the Penobscot River. There they were, swimming with the mergansers, following an early pulse of river herring to the mouth of Kenduskeag stream: two harbor seals, raising sleek round heads for a few long breaths before rolling under the waves.

Evidently it’s not uncommon for seals to swim the couple dozen miles between Bangor, Maine, and the Atlantic Ocean, but I’d never seen them here before. They were a balm to my buzzing thoughts: What happens next? Will I become a vector of death to my elderly mother? Is the economy going to implode? For a precious few minutes there were only the seals and mergansers and the fish who drew them there, arriving as the Penobscot’s winter icepack broke and flowed to sea, a ritual enacted ever since glaciers retreated from this continental shelf.

In the months ahead we can look to nature for these respites. The nonhuman world is free of charge; sunlight is a disinfectant, physical distance easily maintained, and no pandemic can suspend it. Nature offers not just escape but reassurance.

The nonhuman world is free of charge; sunlight is a disinfectant, and physical distance is easily maintained.

In 1946, in the aftermath of World War II, with the Nazi threat vanquished but the Cold War looming, George Orwell welcomed spring’s arrival in London’s bombed-out heart. “After the sorts of winters we have had to endure recently, the spring does seem miraculous, because it has become gradually harder and harder to believe that it is actually going to happen,” he wrote in “Some Thoughts on the Common Toad.” “Every February since 1940 I have found myself thinking that this time Winter is going to be permanent. But Persephone, like the toads, always rises from the dead at about the same moment.”

So she does. And so the slumbering earth warms to life. Two nights before the seals, two nights before World Health Organization declared a pandemic, before the NBA shut down with teams on the floor and fans in the seats, before the fright went beyond viral into logarithmic, was the Worm Moon: the full moon named for the imminent stir of earthworms in thawing soil.

In burrows beneath leaf litter, hibernating toads prepare to open what Orwell called “the most beautiful eye of any living creature,” resembling “the golden-colored semi-precious stone which one sometimes sees in signet rings, and which I think is called a chrysoberyl.” Nearly as beautiful are the eyes of painted turtles waiting on pond bottoms here in eastern Maine, the ice above now retreating from shore, mallard couples dabbling in newly open water.

The birds are the surest sign of spring’s imminence. Downtown the house finches are holding daily concerts. Starlings are starting to replace their gold-streaked winter plumes with more iridescent garb. In the street today I saw two male mockingbirds joust above the pavement, their white wing-bars fluttering territorial semaphores, abandoning the contest only when a car nearly ran them down. 

There are many quieter signs, too: pale tips of shrubs poised to grow, a spider rappelling off a low branch, fresh fox scat in the driveway. It’s red from apples preserved under snow and lined with the fur of field mice and meadow voles whose secret winter tunnels are now revealed in the grass. Somewhere soon mother fox will give birth, nursing her blind hairless charges in underground peace.

Eastern comma butterflies will gather on the trunks of those apple trees and sip their rising sap. Not long after the first orange-belted bumblebee queens will appear, inspecting potential nest sites under fallen leaves and decomposing logs. Warm rainy nights will bring salamanders and newts, just a few spotted glistening inches long, some of them decades old, out from woodland hidey-holes and down ancient paths to vernal pool bacchanals held amidst a chorus of spring peepers. Woodland ephemerals will bloom in sunshine unfiltered by still-bare treetops. My favorite are trout lilies, colonies of which illuminate forest floors with a sea of bright yellow blossoms, petals falling once the canopy unfurls.

“The atom bombs are piling up in the factories, the police are prowling through the cities, the lies are streaming from the loudspeakers,” Orwell wrote, “but the earth is still going round the sun.”

At this point there’s no end of studies showing how nature is good for our health, how patients recover faster in hospital rooms with windows overlooking trees, how a mindful walk in the woods will lower stress and raise moods. All true, but at this moment something deeper and more urgent is offered. An affirmation of life.

Will the nightmare scenes out of Italy and Spain and now New York City spread across the land? How long will the pandemic last? Will it completely rend our already tattered social fabric? When can I again play hockey or go to a coffee shop or use a credit card machine without feeling like I’m risking my own and other lives? Who will die? Nobody knows for sure, but in a few weeks the swallows will arrive, and tonight above the fields at dusk I heard the cries of woodcock.

Secretive, ground-dwelling birds with limpid black eyes and long, slender beaks attuned to the frequencies of earthworm-rustles, their feathers blend perfectly with leaf litter and old grass. They rely on this camouflage, going still rather than fleeing a walker’s approach, taking wing only as a last resort.

When they do, their flight is notable for its slowness and the quavering whistle of their wings. At no other time than in spring do they dare draw attention, much less put on a show: calling out, with an urgent nasal buzz best described as a peent, and flying straight upward before spiraling against a darkening sky.

Brandon Keim is a freelance nature and science journalist. The author of The Eye of the Sandpiper: Stories from the Living World, he’s now writing Meet the Neighbors, forthcoming from W.W. Norton & Company, about what it means to think of wild animals as fellow persons—and what that means for the future of nature.

Lead image: Tim Zurowski / Shutterstock

I’m no stranger to forced isolation. For the better part of my 20s, I served as a nuclear submarine officer running secret missions for the United States Navy. I deployed across the vast Pacific Ocean with a hundred other sailors on the USS Connecticut, a Seawolf-class ship engineered in the bygone Cold War era to be one of the fastest, quietest, and deepest-diving submersibles ever constructed. The advanced reactor was loaded with decades of enriched uranium fuel that made steam for propulsion and electrical power so we could disappear under the waves indefinitely without returning to port. My longest stint was for two months, when I traveled under the polar ice cap to the North Pole with a team of scientists studying the Arctic environment and testing high frequency sonar and acoustic communications for under-ice operations. During deployments, critical-life events occur without you: holidays with loved ones, the birth of a child, or in my case, the New York Giants 2011-2012 playoff run to beat Tom Brady’s Patriots in the Super Bowl for the second time. On the bright side, being cut off from the outside world was a great first job for an introvert.

It’s been a month since COVID-19 involuntarily drafted me into another period of isolation far away from home. I’m in Turkey, where a two-week trip with my partner to meet her family has been extended indefinitely. There were no reported cases here and only a few in California in early March when we left San Francisco, where I run a business design studio. I had a lot of anticipation about Turkey because I’d never been here. Now I’m sheltering in a coastal town outside of Izmir with my partner, her parents, their seven cats, and a new puppy.

Shuttered in a house on foreign soil where I don’t speak the language, I have found myself snapping back into submarine deployment mode. Each day I dutifully monitor online dashboards of data and report the status of the spread at the breakfast table to no one in particular. I stay in touch with friends and family all over the world who tell me they’re going stir crazy and their homes are getting claustrophobic. But if there is one thing my experience as a submarine officer taught me, it’s that you get comfortable being uncomfortable.

My training began with psychological testing, although it may not be what you think. Evaluating mental readiness for underwater isolation isn’t conducted in a laboratory by clipboard-toting, spectacled scientists. The process to select officers was created by Admiral Hyman Rickover—the engineering visionary and noted madman who put the first nuclear reactor in a submarine—to assess both technical acumen and composure under stress. For three decades as the director of the Navy’s nuclear propulsion program, Rickover tediously interviewed every officer, and the recruiting folklore is a true HR nightmare: locking candidates in closets for hours, asking obtuse questions such as “Do something to make me mad,” and sawing down chair legs to literally keep one off balance.

Rickover retired from the Navy as its longest-serving officer and his successors carried on the tradition of screening each officer candidate, but with a slightly more dignified approach. Rickover’s ghost, though, seemed to preside over my interview process when I applied to be a submariner as a junior at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. I was warned by other midshipmen that I would fail on the spot if I initiated a handshake. So, dressed in my formal navy blue uniform and doing my best to avoid tripping into accidental human contact, I rigidly marched into the Admiral’s office, staring straight ahead while barking my resume. When I took a seat on the unaltered and perfectly level chair in front of his desk, the Admiral asked me bluntly why I took so many philosophy classes and if I thought I could handle the technical rigors of nuclear power school. My response was a rote quip from John Paul Jones’ “Qualifications of a Naval Officer.” “Admiral, an officer should be a gentleman of liberal education, refined manners, punctilious courtesy, and the nicest sense of personal honor.” My future boss looked at me, shook his head like he thought I’d be a handful, and told me I got the job.

Confinement opened something up in my psyche and I gave myself permission to let go of my anxieties.

Nuclear power training is an academic kick in the face every day for over a year. The curriculum is highly technical and the pedagogy resembles a cyborg assembly-line without even a hint of the Socratic method. Our grades were conspicuously posted on the classroom wall and a line was drawn between those who passed and those who failed. I was below the line enough to earn the distinguished dishonor of 25 additional study hours each week, which meant I was at school at 5 a.m. and every weekend. This is how the Nuclear Navy builds the appropriate level of knowledge and right temperament to deal with shipboard reactor operations.

I finally sat down for a formal psychological evaluation a few months before my first deployment. I was ushered into a room no bigger than a broom closet and instructed to click through a computer-based questionnaire with multiple-choice questions about my emotions. I never did  learn the results, so I assume my responses didn’t raise too many red flags.

During my first year onboard, I spent all my waking hours either supervising reactor operations or learning the intricacies of every inch of the 350-foot tube and the science behind how it all worked. The electrolysis machine that split water molecules to generate oxygen was almost always out of commission, so instead we burned chlorate candles that produced breathable air. Seawater was distilled each day for drinking and shower water. Our satellite communications link had less bandwidth than my dial-up modem in the 1990s and we were permitted to send text-only emails to friends and family at certain times and in certain locations so as not to risk being detected. I took tests every month to demonstrate proficiency in nuclear engineering, navigation, and the battle capabilities of the ship. When I earned my submarine warfare qualification, the Captain pinned the gold dolphins insignia on my uniform and gave me the proverbial keys to the $4 billion warship. At that point, I was responsible for coordinating missions and navigating the ship as the Officer of the Deck.

Modern submarines are hydrodynamically shaped to have the most efficient laminar flow underwater, so that’s where we operated 99 percent of the time. The rare exception to being submerged is when we’d go in and out of port. The most unfortunate times were long transits tossing about in heavy swells, which made for a particularly nauseated cruise. To this day, conjuring the memory of some such sails causes a reflux flashback. A submariner’s true comfort zone is beneath the waves so as soon as we broke ties with the pier we navigated toward water that was deep enough for us to dive.

It’s unnatural to stuff humans, torpedoes, and a nuclear reactor into a steel boat that’s intentionally meant to sink. This engineering marvel ranks among the most complex, and before we’d proceed below and subject the ship and its inhabitants to extreme sea pressures, the officers would visually inspect thousands of valves to verify the proper lineup of systems that would propel us to the surface if we started flooding uncontrollably and sinking—a no-mistakes procedure called rigging for dive. Once we’d slip beneath the waves, the entire crew would walk around to check for leaks before we’d settle into a rotation of standing watch, practicing our casualty drills, engineering training, eating, showering (sometimes), and sleeping (rarely). The full cycle was 18 hours, which meant the timing of our circadian cycles were constantly changing. Regardless of the amount of government-issued Folger’s coffee I’d pour down my throat, I’d pass out upon immediate contact with my rack (the colloquialism for a submarine bunk in which your modicum of privacy was symbolized by a cloth curtain).

As an officer, I lived luxuriously with only two other grown men in a stateroom no bigger than a walk-in closet. Most of the crew slept stacked like lumber in an 18-person bunk room and they all took turns in the rack. This alternative lifestyle is known as hot-racking, because of the sensation you get when you crawl into bedding that’s been recently occupied. The bunk rooms are sanctuaries where silence is observed with monastic intensity. Slamming the door or setting an alarm clock was a cardinal sin so wakeups were conducted by a junior sailor who gently coaxed you awake when it was time to stand watch. Lieutenant Weiner, it’s time to wake up. You’ve got the midnight watch, sir. Words that haunt my dreams.

The electrolysis machine was out of commission, so we burned chlorate candles that produced breathable air.

I maintained some semblance of sanity and physical fitness by sneaking a workout on a rowing erg in the engine room or a stationary bike squeezed between electronics cabinets. The rhythmic beating of footsteps on a treadmill was a noise offender—the sound could be detected on sonar from miles away—so we shut it off unless we were in friendly waters where we weren’t concerned with counter-detection.

Like a heavily watered-down version of a Buddhist monk taking solitary retreat in a cave, my extended submarine confinements opened something up in my psyche and I gave myself permission to let go of my anxieties. Transiting underneath a vast ocean in a vessel with a few inches of steel preventing us from drowning helps put things into perspective. Now that I’m out of the Navy, I have more appreciation for the freedoms of personal choice, a fresh piece of fruit, and 24 hours in a day. My only regrets are not keeping a journal or having the wherewithal to discover the practice of meditation under the sea.

Today, I’m learning Turkish so I can understand more about what’s happening around me. I’m doing Kundalini yoga (a moving meditation that focuses on breathwork) and running on the treadmill (since I’m no longer concerned about my footsteps being detected on sonar). On my submarine, I looked at photos to stay connected to the world I left behind, knowing that I’d return soon enough. Now our friend who is isolating in our apartment in San Francisco sends us pictures of our cat and gives us reports about how the neighborhood has changed.

It’s hard to imagine that we’ll resume our lifestyles exactly as they were. But the submariner in me is optimistic that we have it in us to adapt to whatever conditions are waiting for us when it’s safe to ascend from the depths and return to the surface.

Steve Weiner is the founder of Very Scarce, a business design studio. He used to lead portfolio companies at Expa and drive nuclear submarines in the U.S. Navy. He has an MBA from The Wharton School and a BS from the U.S. Naval Academy. Instagram: @steve Twitter: @weenpeace

Lead image: Mike H. / Shutterstock

The final outcome of COVID-19 is still unclear. It will ultimately be decided by our patience and the financial bottom line.Castleski / Shutterstock

On January 5, six days after China officially announced a spate of unusual pneumonia cases, a team of researchers at Shanghai’s Fudan University deposited the full genome sequence of the causal virus, SARS-CoV-2, into Genbank. A little more than three months later, 4,528 genomes of SARS-CoV-2 have been sequenced,1 and more than 883 COVID-related clinical trials2 for treatments and vaccines have been established. The speed with which these trials will deliver results is unknown—the delicate bаlance of efficacy and safety can only be pushed so far before the risks outweigh the benefits. For this reason, a long-term solution like vaccination may take years to come to market.3

The good news is that a lack of treatment doesn’t preclude an end to the ordeal. Viral outbreaks of Ebola and SARS, neither of which had readily available vaccines, petered out through the application of consistent public health strategies—testing, containment, and long-term behavioral adaptations. Today countries that have previously battled the 2002 SARS epidemic, like Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore, have shown exemplary recovery rates from COVID. Tomorrow, countries with high fatality rates like Sweden, Belgium, and the United Kingdom will have the opportunity to demonstrate what they’ve learned when the next outbreak comes to their shores. And so will we.

The first Ebola case was identified in 1976,4 when a patient with hemorrhagic symptoms arrived at the Yambuku Mission Hospital, located in what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Patient samples were collected and sent to several European laboratories that specialized in rare viruses. Scientists, without sequencing technology, took about five weeks to identify the agent responsible for the illness as a new member of the highly pathogenic Filoviridae family.

The first Ebola outbreak sickened 686 individuals across the DRC and neighboring Sudan. 453 of the patients died, with a final case fatality rate (CFR)—the number of dead out of number of sickened—of 66 percent. Despite the lethality of the virus, sociocultural interventions, including lockdowns, contact-tracing, campaigns to change funeral rites, and restrictions on consumption of game meat all proved effective interventions in the long run.

That is, until 2014, when there was an exception to the pattern. Ebola appeared in Guinea, a small country in West Africa, whose population had never before been exposed to the virus. The closest epidemic had been in Gabon, 13 years before and 2,500 miles away. Over the course of two years, the infection spread from Guinea into Liberia and Sierra Leone, sickening more than 24,000 people and killing more than 10,000.

Countries that have previously battled the 2002 SARS epidemic, like Taiwan and Hong Kong, have shown exemplary recovery rates.

During the initial phase of the 2014 Ebola outbreak, rural communities were reluctant to cooperate with government directives for how to care for the sick and the dead. To help incentivize behavioral changes, sociocultural anthropologists like Mariane Ferme of the University of California, Berkeley, were brought in to advise the government. In a recent interview with Nautilus, Ferme indicated that strategies that allowed rural communities to remain involved with their loved ones increased cooperation. Villages located far from the capital, she said, were encouraged to “deputize someone to come to the hospital, to come to the burial, so they could come back to the community and tell the story of the body.” For communities that couldn’t afford to send someone to the capital, she saw public health officials adopt a savvy technological solution—tablets to record video messages that were carried between convalescent patients and their families.

However, there were also systemic failures that, in Ferme’s opinion, contributed to the severity of the 2014 West African epidemic. In Sierra Leone, she said, “the big mistake early on was to distribute [weakly causal] information about zoonotic transmission, even when it was obviously community transmission.” In other words, although there had been an instance of zoonotic transmission—the virus jumping from a bat to a human—that initiated the epidemic, the principle danger was other contagious individuals, not game meat. Eventually, under pressure from relief groups, the government changed its messaging to reflect scientific consensus.

But the retraction shook public faith in the government and bred resentment. The mismatch between messaging and reality mirrors the current pandemic. Since the COVID outbreak began, international and government health officials have issued mixed messages. Doubts initially surfaced about the certainty of the virus being capable of spreading from person to person, and the debate over the effectiveness of masks in preventing infection continues.

Despite the confused messaging, there has been general compliance with stay-at-home orders that has helped flatten the curve. Had the public been less trusting of government directives, the outcome could have been disastrous, as it was in Libera in 2014. After a two-week lockdown was announced, the Liberian army conducted house-to-house sweeps to check for the sick and collect the dead. “It was a draconian method that made people hide the sick and dead in their houses,” Ferme said. People feared their loved ones would be buried without the proper rites. A direct consequence was a staggering number of active cases, and an unknown extent of community transmission. But in the end, the benchmark for the end of Ebola and SARS was the same. The WHO declared victory when the rate of new cases slowed, then stopped. By the same measure, when an entire 14-day quarantine period passes with no new cases of COVID-19, it can be declared over.

It remains possible that even if we manage to end the epidemic, it will return again. Driven by novel zoonotic transmissions, Ebola has flared up every few years. Given the extent of COVID-19’s spread, and the potential for the kind of mutations that allow for re-infection, it may simply become endemic.

Two factors will play into the final outcome of COVID-19 are pathogenicity and virulence. Pathogenicity is the ability of an infectious agent to cause disease in the host, and is measured by R0—the number of new infections each patient can generate. Virulence, on the other hand, is the amount of harm the infectious agent can cause, and is best measured by CFR. While the pathogenicity of Ebola, SARS, and SARS-CoV-2 is on the same order—somewhere between 1 to 3 new infections for each patient, virulence differs greatly between the two SARS viruses and Ebola.

The case fatality rate for an Ebola infection is between 60 to 90 percent. The spread in CFR is due to differences in infection dynamics between strains. The underlying cause of the divergent virulence of Ebola and SARS is largely due to the tropism of the virus, meaning the cells that it attacks. The mechanism by which the Ebola virus gains entry into cells is not fully understood, but it has been shown the virus preferentially targets immune and epithelial cells.5 In other words, the virus first destroys the body’s ability to mount a defense, and then destroys the delicate tissues that line the vascular system. Patients bleed freely and most often succumb to low blood pressure that results from severe fluid loss. However, neither SARS nor SARS-CoV-2 attack the immune system directly. Instead, they enter lung epithelial cells through the ACE2 receptor, which ensures a lower CFR. What is interesting about these coronaviruses is that despite their similar modes of infection, they demonstrate a range of virulence: SARS had a final CFR of 10 percent, while SARS-CoV-2 has a pending CFR of 1.4 percent. Differences in virulence between the 2002 and 2019 SARS outbreaks could be attributed to varying levels of care between countries.

The chart above displays WHO data of the relationship between the total number of cases in a country and the CFR during the 2002-2003 SARS-CoV epidemic. South Africa, on the far right, had only a single case. The patient died, which resulted in a 100 percent CFR. China, on the other hand, had 5,327 cases and 349 deaths, giving a 7 percent CFR. The chart below zooms to the bottom left corner of the graph, so as to better resolve critically affected countries, those with a caseload of less than 1,000, but with a high CFR.

Here is Hong Kong, with 1,755 cases and a 17 percent CFR. There is also Taiwan, with 346 cases and an 11 percent CFR. Finally, nearly tied with Canada is Singapore with 238 cases and a 14 percent CFR.

With COVID-19, it’s apparent that outcome reflects experience. China has 82,747 cases of COVID, but has lowered their CFR to 4 percent. Hong Kong has 1,026 cases and a 0.4 percent CFR. Taiwan has 422 cases at 1.5 percent CFR, and Singapore with 8,014 cases, has a 0.13 percent CFR.

It was the novel coronavirus identification program established in China in the wake of the 2002 SARS epidemic that alerted authorities to SARS-CoV-2 back in November of 2019. The successful responses by Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore can also be attributed to a residual familiarity with the dangers of an unknown virus, and the sorts of interventions that are necessary to prevent a crisis from spiraling out of control.

In West Africa, too, they seem to have learned the value of being prepared. When Ferme returned to Liberia on March 7, she encountered airport staff fully protected with gowns, head covers, face screens, masks, and gloves. By the time she left the country, 10 days later, she said, “Airline personnel were setting up social distancing lines, and [rural vendors] hawking face masks. Motorcycle taxis drivers, the people most at risk after healthcare workers—all had goggles and face masks.”

The sheer number of COVID-19 cases indicates the road to recovery will take some time. Each must be identified, quarantined, and all contacts traced and tested. Countries that failed to act swiftly, which allowed their case numbers to spiral out of control, will pay in lives and dollars. Northwestern University economists Martin Eichenbaum et al. modeled6 the cost of a yearlong shutdown to be $4.2 trillion, a cost that proactive countries will not face. A recent Harvard study7 published in Science suggests the virus will likely make seasonal appearances going forward, potentially requiring new waves of social distancing. In other words, initial hesitancy will have repercussions for years. In the future, smart containment principles,6 where restrictions are applied on the basis of health status, may temper the impact of these measures.

Countries that failed to act swiftly, which allowed their case numbers to spiral out of control, will pay in lives and dollars.

Inaction was initially framed as promoting herd immunity, where spread of the virus is interrupted once everyone has fallen sick with it. This is because getting the virus results in the same antibody production process as getting vaccinated—but doesn’t require the development of a vaccine. The Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health estimates that 70 percent of the population will need to be infected with or vaccinated against the virus8 for herd immunity to work. Progress toward it has been slow, and can only be achieved through direct infection with the virus, meaning many will die. A Stanford University study in Santa Clara County9 suggests only 2.5 percent to 4.2 percent of the population have had the virus. Another COVID hotspot in Gangelt, Germany, suggests 15 percent10—higher, but still nowhere near the 70 percent necessary for herd immunity. Given the dangers inherent in waiting on herd immunity, our best hope is a vaccine.

A key concern for effective vaccine development is viral mutation. This is because vaccines train the immune system to recognize specific shapes on the surface of the virus—a composite structure called the antigen. Mutations threaten vaccine development because they can change the shape of the relevant antigen, effectively allowing the pathogen to evade immune surveillance. But, so far, SARS-CoV-2 has been mutating slowly, with only one mutation found in the section most accessible to the immune system, the spike protein. What this suggests is that the viral genome may be sufficiently stable for vaccine development.

What we know, though, is that Ebola was extinguished due to cooperation between public health officials and community leaders. SARS-CoV ended when all cases were identified and quarantined. The Spanish Flu in 1918 vanished after two long, deadly seasons.

The final outcome of COVID-19 is still unclear. It will ultimately be decided by our patience and the financial bottom line. With 26 million unemployed and protests erupting around the country, it seems there are many who would prefer to risk life and limb rather than face financial insolvency. Applying smart containment principles in the aftermath of the shutdown might be the best way to get the economy moving again, while maintaining the safety of those at greatest risk. Going forward, vigilance and preparedness will be the watchwords of the day, and the most efficient way to prevent social and economic ruin.

Anastasia Bendebury and Michael Shilo DeLay did their PhDs at Columbia University. Together they created Demystifying Science, a science literacy organization devoted to providing clear, mechanistic explanations for natural phenomena. Find them on Twitter @DemystifySci.

References

1. Genomic epidemiology of novel coronavirus - Global subsampling. Nextstrain www.nextstrain.org.

2. Covid-19 TrialsTracker. TrialsTracker www.trialstracker.net.

3. Struck, M. Vaccine R&D success rates and development times. Nature Biotechnology 14, 591-593 (1996).

4. Breman, J. & Johnson, K. Ebola then and now. The New England Journal of Medicine 371 1663-1666 (2014).

5. Baseler, L., Chertow, D.S., Johnson, K.M., Feldmann, H., & Morens, D.M. THe pathogenesis of Ebola virus disease. The Annual Review of Pathology 12, 387-418 (2017).

6. Eichenbaum, M., Rebell, S., & Trabandt, M. The macroeconomics of epidemics. The National Bureau of Economic Research Working Paper: 26882 (2020).

7. Kissler, S., Tedijanto, C., Goldstein, E., Grad, Y., & Lipsitch, M. Projecting the transmission dynamics of SARS-CoV-2 through the postpandemic period. Science eabb5793 (2020).

8. D’ Souza, G. & Dowdy, D. What is herd immunity and how can we achieve it with COVID-19? Johns Hopkins COVID-19 School of Public Health Insights www.jhsph.edu (2020).

9. Digitale, E. Test for antibodies against novel coronavirus developed at Stanford Medicine. Stanford Medicine News Center Med.Stanford.edu (2020).

10. Winkler, M. Blood tests show 14%of people are now immune to COVID-19 in one town in Germany. MIT Technology Review (2020).

On January 5, six days after China officially announced a spate of unusual pneumonia cases, a team of researchers at Shanghai’s Fudan University deposited the full genome sequence of the causal virus, SARS-CoV-2, into Genbank. A little more than three months later, 4,528 genomes of SARS-CoV-2 have been sequenced,1 and more than 883 COVID-related clinical trials2 for treatments and vaccines have been established. The speed with which these trials will deliver results is unknown—the delicate bаlance of efficacy and safety can only be pushed so far before the risks outweigh the benefits. For this reason, a long-term solution like vaccination may take years to come to market.3

The good news is that a lack of treatment doesn’t preclude an end to the ordeal. Viral outbreaks of Ebola and SARS, neither of which had readily available vaccines, petered out through the application of consistent public health strategies—testing, containment, and long-term behavioral adaptations. Today countries that have previously battled the 2002 SARS epidemic, like Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore, have shown exemplary recovery rates from COVID. Tomorrow, countries with high fatality rates like Sweden, Belgium, and the United Kingdom will have the opportunity to demonstrate what they’ve learned when the next outbreak comes to their shores. And so will we.

The first Ebola case was identified in 1976,4 when a patient with hemorrhagic symptoms arrived at the Yambuku Mission Hospital, located in what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Patient samples were collected and sent to several European laboratories that specialized in rare viruses. Scientists, without sequencing technology, took about five weeks to identify the agent responsible for the illness as a new member of the highly pathogenic Filoviridae family.

The first Ebola outbreak sickened 686 individuals across the DRC and neighboring Sudan. 453 of the patients died, with a final case fatality rate (CFR)—the number of dead out of number of sickened—of 66 percent. Despite the lethality of the virus, sociocultural interventions, including lockdowns, contact-tracing, campaigns to change funeral rites, and restrictions on consumption of game meat all proved effective interventions in the long run.

That is, until 2014, when there was an exception to the pattern. Ebola appeared in Guinea, a small country in West Africa, whose population had never before been exposed to the virus. The closest epidemic had been in Gabon, 13 years before and 2,500 miles away. Over the course of two years, the infection spread from Guinea into Liberia and Sierra Leone, sickening more than 24,000 people and killing more than 10,000.

Countries that have previously battled the 2002 SARS epidemic, like Taiwan and Hong Kong, have shown exemplary recovery rates.

During the initial phase of the 2014 Ebola outbreak, rural communities were reluctant to cooperate with government directives for how to care for the sick and the dead. To help incentivize behavioral changes, sociocultural anthropologists like Mariane Ferme of the University of California, Berkeley, were brought in to advise the government. In a recent interview with Nautilus, Ferme indicated that strategies that allowed rural communities to remain involved with their loved ones increased cooperation. Villages located far from the capital, she said, were encouraged to “deputize someone to come to the hospital, to come to the burial, so they could come back to the community and tell the story of the body.” For communities that couldn’t afford to send someone to the capital, she saw public health officials adopt a savvy technological solution—tablets to record video messages that were carried between convalescent patients and their families.

However, there were also systemic failures that, in Ferme’s opinion, contributed to the severity of the 2014 West African epidemic. In Sierra Leone, she said, “the big mistake early on was to distribute [weakly causal] information about zoonotic transmission, even when it was obviously community transmission.” In other words, although there had been an instance of zoonotic transmission—the virus jumping from a bat to a human—that initiated the epidemic, the principle danger was other contagious individuals, not game meat. Eventually, under pressure from relief groups, the government changed its messaging to reflect scientific consensus.

But the retraction shook public faith in the government and bred resentment. The mismatch between messaging and reality mirrors the current pandemic. Since the COVID outbreak began, international and government health officials have issued mixed messages. Doubts initially surfaced about the certainty of the virus being capable of spreading from person to person, and the debate over the effectiveness of masks in preventing infection continues.

Despite the confused messaging, there has been general compliance with stay-at-home orders that has helped flatten the curve. Had the public been less trusting of government directives, the outcome could have been disastrous, as it was in Libera in 2014. After a two-week lockdown was announced, the Liberian army conducted house-to-house sweeps to check for the sick and collect the dead. “It was a draconian method that made people hide the sick and dead in their houses,” Ferme said. People feared their loved ones would be buried without the proper rites. A direct consequence was a staggering number of active cases, and an unknown extent of community transmission. But in the end, the benchmark for the end of Ebola and SARS was the same. The WHO declared victory when the rate of new cases slowed, then stopped. By the same measure, when an entire 14-day quarantine period passes with no new cases of COVID-19, it can be declared over.

It remains possible that even if we manage to end the epidemic, it will return again. Driven by novel zoonotic transmissions, Ebola has flared up every few years. Given the extent of COVID-19’s spread, and the potential for the kind of mutations that allow for re-infection, it may simply become endemic.

Two factors will play into the final outcome of COVID-19 are pathogenicity and virulence. Pathogenicity is the ability of an infectious agent to cause disease in the host, and is measured by R0—the number of new infections each patient can generate. Virulence, on the other hand, is the amount of harm the infectious agent can cause, and is best measured by CFR. While the pathogenicity of Ebola, SARS, and SARS-CoV-2 is on the same order—somewhere between 1 to 3 new infections for each patient, virulence differs greatly between the two SARS viruses and Ebola.

The case fatality rate for an Ebola infection is between 60 to 90 percent. The spread in CFR is due to differences in infection dynamics between strains. The underlying cause of the divergent virulence of Ebola and SARS is largely due to the tropism of the virus, meaning the cells that it attacks. The mechanism by which the Ebola virus gains entry into cells is not fully understood, but it has been shown the virus preferentially targets immune and epithelial cells.5 In other words, the virus first destroys the body’s ability to mount a defense, and then destroys the delicate tissues that line the vascular system. Patients bleed freely and most often succumb to low blood pressure that results from severe fluid loss. However, neither SARS nor SARS-CoV-2 attack the immune system directly. Instead, they enter lung epithelial cells through the ACE2 receptor, which ensures a lower CFR. What is interesting about these coronaviruses is that despite their similar modes of infection, they demonstrate a range of virulence: SARS had a final CFR of 10 percent, while SARS-CoV-2 has a pending CFR of 1.4 percent. Differences in virulence between the 2002 and 2019 SARS outbreaks could be attributed to varying levels of care between countries.

The chart above displays WHO data of the relationship between the total number of cases in a country and the CFR during the 2002-2003 SARS-CoV epidemic. South Africa, on the far right, had only a single case. The patient died, which resulted in a 100 percent CFR. China, on the other hand, had 5,327 cases and 349 deaths, giving a 7 percent CFR. The chart below zooms to the bottom left corner of the graph, so as to better resolve critically affected countries, those with a caseload of less than 1,000, but with a high CFR.

Here is Hong Kong, with 1,755 cases and a 17 percent CFR. There is also Taiwan, with 346 cases and an 11 percent CFR. Finally, nearly tied with Canada is Singapore with 238 cases and a 14 percent CFR.

With COVID-19, it’s apparent that outcome reflects experience. China has 82,747 cases of COVID, but has lowered their CFR to 4 percent. Hong Kong has 1,026 cases and a 0.4 percent CFR. Taiwan has 422 cases at 1.5 percent CFR, and Singapore with 8,014 cases, has a 0.13 percent CFR.

It was the novel coronavirus identification program established in China in the wake of the 2002 SARS epidemic that alerted authorities to SARS-CoV-2 back in November of 2019. The successful responses by Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore can also be attributed to a residual familiarity with the dangers of an unknown virus, and the sorts of interventions that are necessary to prevent a crisis from spiraling out of control.

In West Africa, too, they seem to have learned the value of being prepared. When Ferme returned to Liberia on March 7, she encountered airport staff fully protected with gowns, head covers, face screens, masks, and gloves. By the time she left the country, 10 days later, she said, “Airline personnel were setting up social distancing lines, and [rural vendors] hawking face masks. Motorcycle taxis drivers, the people most at risk after healthcare workers—all had goggles and face masks.”

The sheer number of COVID-19 cases indicates the road to recovery will take some time. Each must be identified, quarantined, and all contacts traced and tested. Countries that failed to act swiftly, which allowed their case numbers to spiral out of control, will pay in lives and dollars. Northwestern University economists Martin Eichenbaum et al. modeled6 the cost of a yearlong shutdown to be $4.2 trillion, a cost that proactive countries will not face. A recent Harvard study7 published in Science suggests the virus will likely make seasonal appearances going forward, potentially requiring new waves of social distancing. In other words, initial hesitancy will have repercussions for years. In the future, smart containment principles,6 where restrictions are applied on the basis of health status, may temper the impact of these measures.

Countries that failed to act swiftly, which allowed their case numbers to spiral out of control, will pay in lives and dollars.

Inaction was initially framed as promoting herd immunity, where spread of the virus is interrupted once everyone has fallen sick with it. This is because getting the virus results in the same antibody production process as getting vaccinated—but doesn’t require the development of a vaccine. The Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health estimates that 70 percent of the population will need to be infected with or vaccinated against the virus8 for herd immunity to work. Progress toward it has been slow, and can only be achieved through direct infection with the virus, meaning many will die. A Stanford University study in Santa Clara County9 suggests only 2.5 percent to 4.2 percent of the population have had the virus. Another COVID hotspot in Gangelt, Germany, suggests 15 percent10—higher, but still nowhere near the 70 percent necessary for herd immunity. Given the dangers inherent in waiting on herd immunity, our best hope is a vaccine.

A key concern for effective vaccine development is viral mutation. This is because vaccines train the immune system to recognize specific shapes on the surface of the virus—a composite structure called the antigen. Mutations threaten vaccine development because they can change the shape of the relevant antigen, effectively allowing the pathogen to evade immune surveillance. But, so far, SARS-CoV-2 has been mutating slowly, with only one mutation found in the section most accessible to the immune system, the spike protein. What this suggests is that the viral genome may be sufficiently stable for vaccine development.

What we know, though, is that Ebola was extinguished due to cooperation between public health officials and community leaders. SARS-CoV ended when all cases were identified and quarantined. The Spanish Flu in 1918 vanished after two long, deadly seasons.

The final outcome of COVID-19 is still unclear. It will ultimately be decided by our patience and the financial bottom line. With 26 million unemployed and protests erupting around the country, it seems there are many who would prefer to risk life and limb rather than face financial insolvency. Applying smart containment principles in the aftermath of the shutdown might be the best way to get the economy moving again, while maintaining the safety of those at greatest risk. Going forward, vigilance and preparedness will be the watchwords of the day, and the most efficient way to prevent social and economic ruin.

Anastasia Bendebury and Michael Shilo DeLay did their PhDs at Columbia University. Together they created Demystifying Science, a science literacy organization devoted to providing clear, mechanistic explanations for natural phenomena. Find them on Twitter @DemystifySci.

References

1. Genomic epidemiology of novel coronavirus - Global subsampling. Nextstrain www.nextstrain.org.

2. Covid-19 TrialsTracker. TrialsTracker www.trialstracker.net.

3. Struck, M. Vaccine R&D success rates and development times. Nature Biotechnology 14, 591-593 (1996).

4. Breman, J. & Johnson, K. Ebola then and now. The New England Journal of Medicine 371 1663-1666 (2014).

5. Baseler, L., Chertow, D.S., Johnson, K.M., Feldmann, H., & Morens, D.M. THe pathogenesis of Ebola virus disease. The Annual Review of Pathology 12, 387-418 (2017).

6. Eichenbaum, M., Rebell, S., & Trabandt, M. The macroeconomics of epidemics. The National Bureau of Economic Research Working Paper: 26882 (2020).

7. Kissler, S., Tedijanto, C., Goldstein, E., Grad, Y., & Lipsitch, M. Projecting the transmission dynamics of SARS-CoV-2 through the postpandemic period. Science eabb5793 (2020).

8. D’ Souza, G. & Dowdy, D. What is herd immunity and how can we achieve it with COVID-19? Johns Hopkins COVID-19 School of Public Health Insights www.jhsph.edu (2020).

9. Digitale, E. Test for antibodies against novel coronavirus developed at Stanford Medicine. Stanford Medicine News Center Med.Stanford.edu (2020).

10. Winkler, M. Blood tests show 14%of people are now immune to COVID-19 in one town in Germany. MIT Technology Review (2020).

Lead image: Castleski / Shutterstock

There’s an old belief that truth will always overcome error. Alas, history tells us something different. Without someone to fight for it, to put error on the defensive, truth may languish. It may even be lost, at least for some time. No one understood this better than the renowned Italian scientist Galileo Galilei.

It is easy to imagine the man who for a while almost single-handedly founded the methods and practices of modern science as some sort of Renaissance ivory-tower intellectual, uninterested and unwilling to sully himself by getting down into the trenches in defense of science. But Galileo was not only a relentless advocate for what science could teach the rest of us. He was a master in outreach and a brilliant pioneer in the art of getting his message across.

Today it may be hard to believe that science needs to be defended. But a political storm that denies the facts of science has swept across the land. This denialism ranges from the initial response to the COVID-19 pandemic to the reality of climate change. It’s heard in the preposterous arguments against vaccinating children and Darwin’s theory of evolution by means of natural selection. The scientists putting their careers, reputations, and even their health on the line to educate the public can take heart from Galileo, whose courageous resistance led the way.

A crucial first step, one that took Galileo a bit of time to take, was to switch from publishing his findings in Latin, as was the custom for scientific writings at the time, to the Italian vernacular, the speech of the common people. This enabled not just the highly educated elite but anyone who was intellectually curious to hear and learn about the new scientific work. Even when risking offense (which Galileo never shied away from)—for instance, in responding to a German Jesuit astronomer who disagreed with him on the nature of sunspots (mysterious dark areas observed on the surface of the sun)—Galileo replied in the vernacular, because, as he explained, “I must have everyone able to read it.” An additional motive may have been that Galileo wanted to ensure that no one would somehow distort the meaning of what he had written.

Galileo also understood that while the Church had the pomp and magic of decades of art and music, science had the enchantment of a new invention—the telescope. Even he wasn’t immune to its seductive powers, writing in his famous booklet The Sidereal Messenger: “In this short treatise I propose great things for inspection and contemplation by every explorer of Nature. Great, I say, because of the excellence of the things themselves, because of their newness, unheard of through the ages, and also because of the instrument with the benefit of which they make themselves manifest to our sight. “ And that gave him his second plan for an ambitious outreach campaign.

With alternative facts acting like real facts, there are Galileo’s heirs, throwing up their hands and attempts to make lies sound like truth.

What if he could distribute telescopes (together with detailed instructions for their use and his booklet about the discoveries) all across Europe, so that all the influential people, that is, the patrons of scientists—dukes and cardinals, could observe with their own eyes far out into the heavens. They would see the stunning craters and mountains that cover the surface of the moon, four previously unseen satellites of Jupiter, dark spots on the surface of the sun, and the vast number of stars that make up the Milky Way.

But telescopes were both expensive and technically difficult to produce. Their lenses had to be of the highest quality, to provide both the ability to see faint objects and high resolution. “Very fine lenses that can show all observations are quite rare and, of the more than sixty I have made, with great effort and expense, I have only been able to retain a very small number,” Galileo wrote on March 19, 1610. Who would front the cost of such a monumental and risky project?

Today the papacy is arguably the single most influential and powerful religious institution in the world. But its power is mostly in the moral and religious realms. In Galileo’s time, the papacy was a political power of significance, gobbling up failed dukedoms elsewhere, merging them into what became known as the “papal states.” The persons with the greatest interest in appearing strong in front of the papacy were the heads of neighboring states at the time.

So it is not surprising that Galileo presented his grandiose scheme to the Tuscan court and the Grand Duke Cosimo II de’ Medici. Nor is it surprising that Cosimo agreed to finance the manufacturing of all the telescopes. On his own, he also instructed the Tuscan ambassadors to all the major European capitals to help publicize Galileo’s discoveries. In doing so he tied the House of Medici, ruler of the foundational city of the Renaissance, Florence, to modern science. A win-win for both the Grand Duke and Galileo.

Last, Galileo instinctively understood what modern PR specialists refer to as the “quick response.” He did not let even one unkind word be said about his discoveries without an immediate reply. And his pen could be sharp.

For example, the Jesuit mathematician Orazio Grassi (hiding behind the pseudonym of Sarsi) published a book entitled The Astronomical and Philosophical Balance, in which he criticized Galileo’s ideas on comets and on the nature of heat. In it, Grassi mistakenly thought that he would strengthen his argument by citing a legendary tale about the ancient Babylonians cooking eggs by whirling them on slings.

Really?

Galileo responded with a stupendous piece of polemic literature entitled The Assayer, in which he pounced on this fabled story like a cat on a mouse.

“If Sarsi wishes me to believe, on the word of Suidas [a Greek historian], that the Babylonians cooked eggs by whirling them rapidly in slings, I shall believe it; but I shall say that the cause of this effect is very far from the one he attributes to it,” he wrote. “ To discover the true cause, I reason as follows: ‘If we do not achieve an effect which others formerly achieved, it must be that we lack something in our operation which was the cause of this effect succeeding, and if we lack one thing only, then this alone can be the true cause. Now we do not lack eggs, or slings, or sturdy fellows to whirl them, and still they do not cook, but rather cool down faster if hot. And since we lack nothing except being Babylonians, then being Babylonian is the cause of the egg hardening.’”

Galileo understood what modern PR specialists refer to as the “quick response.” He did not let one unkind word go without an immediate reply.

Did Galileo’s efforts save science from being cast aside perhaps for decades, even centuries? Unfortunately, not quite. The trial in which he was convicted by the Inquisition for “vehement suspicion of heresy” exerted a chilling effect on progress in deciphering the laws governing the cosmos. The famous French philosopher and scientist René Descartes wrote in a letter: “I inquired in Leiden and Amsterdam whether Galileo’s World System was available, for I thought I had heard that it was published in Italy last year. I was told that it had indeed been published, but that all the copies had immediately been burnt in Rome, and that Galileo had been convicted and fined. I was so astonished at this that I almost decided to burn all my papers, or at least to let no one see them.”

I suspect that there are still too few of us who can tell exactly what Galileo discovered and why he is such an important figure to the birth of modern science. But around the world, in conversations as brittle as today’s politics, with alternative facts acting like real facts, there are Galileo’s heirs, throwing up their hands at such attempts to make lies seem like the truth and worse, the truth like a lie, responding with just four words: “And yet it moves.”

Galileo may have never really uttered these words. He surely didn’t say that phrase in front of the Inquisitors—that would have been insanely dangerous. But whether the motto came first from his own mouth, that of a supporter whom he met during the years the Church put him under house arrest after his trial, or a later historian, we know one thing for sure. That motto represents everything Galileo stood for. It conveys the clear message of: In spite of what you may believe, these are the facts! That science won at the end is not solely because of the methods and rules that Galileo set out for what we accept to be true. Science prevailed because Galileo put his life and his personal freedom on the line to defend it.

Mario Livio is an astrophysicist and author. His new book is Galileo: And the Science Deniers.

Lead image: Mario Breda / Shutterstock

We called Greg Carr the other day to talk about the spread of the coronavirus in Africa. Carr, who has been featured in Nautilus, is the founder of the Gorongosa Restoration Project, a partnership with the Mozambique government to revive Gorongosa National Park, that environmental treasure trove at the southern end of the Rift Valley. The 1,500 square-mile park, about the size of Rhode Island, was first given animal refuge status in the 1920s by the Portuguese, and for years was a favorite of European tourists. But in 1983 civil war broke out and the park became a no-man’s land. The place was poached to death, closed up and didn’t reopen until 1992.

Renewal began in 2004 and in 2008 the government signed a restoration agreement with Carr’s foundation. The agreement, which lasts through 2043, envisions a “human rights park” that will restore both ecosystems and economic vitality. After 11 years of rebuilding infrastructure, reintroducing animals, including hippos and wildebeests, and working with local communities, Gorongosa is thriving again. The park now serves as a model for future conservation. Today some 200,000 people live around the park in a “sustainable development zone” that includes education, employment opportunities, and health service. About 700 people have full time jobs in the park; another 300, part time. Naturalist E.O. Wilson calls Gorongosa “a window on eternity.”

“If there’s one thing the rest of the world can learn from Africans, it would be their resilience.”

Carr is a 60-year-old entrepreneur and philanthropist who grew up in Idaho and in his mid twenties co-founded Boston Technology, a voice mail company. By the time he turned 40 he had amassed his fortune and couldn’t see the fun in doing it all over again, and so turned to philanthropy. These days he’s in Idaho Falls, on the phone six hours a day, getting the latest reports from his staff in the park, now closed until further notice.

The coronavirus news from Mozambique is mixed, as it is in much of sub-Saharan Africa. With the exception of South Africa, with over 7,500 confirmed cases of COVID-19 and 148 deaths, some countries below the Equator have fewer than 100 cases. As of May 6, there were just 81 cases in Mozambique and no deaths. If these numbers don’t blow up, the quick explanation might hold that the median age in Sub Saharan Africa is under 20, just 17.6 in Mozambique; population density is low (103 people per square mile); and there’s relatively limited direct contact with heavily infected countries in other parts of the world. 

Still, many experts fear chaos is inevitable. Underlying conditions in Mozambique include implacable poverty and a 60-year history of colonial and civil wars. On another front, in early April, in northern Mozambique, an Isis group shot or beheaded 52 young people because they refused to be recruited. Add a 48 percent literacy rate for women, 60 percent for men. The country also suffers the world’s eighth-highest incidence of HIV; 1.5 million people have contracted the virus and nearly 40,000 people have died. Finally, a large number of Mozambicans go to South Africa for work and then return. Testing is rare in the entire country.

In March, CDC Africa sent out a national directive requiring social distancing. “People are going to pay more attention to that in the cities than they are in rural Mozambique, at least until the virus really comes,” Carr said the other day. “Now, if you live in rural Mozambique, you don’t have the luxury of saying, ‘I’m isolating at home.’ People have to go out every day, to get food and water, from 40 to 60 liters a day, they have to tend to their farms. The idea of social distancing is a bit impossible for these folks.” He added, “Schools are closed and we are making our own masks for people. We all know there’s no treatment per se or certainly vaccine. If this hits, we’ll only be able to offer people Tylenol and soup.”

Cases in Mozambique could shoot up as mine workers continue to return home from their jobs in South Africa. “In my opinion,” said Carr, “Mozambique does not have the capacity to deal with this type of pandemic, as there are few qualified health personnel and the high level of poverty leads people to resist isolating themselves, as they look for alternatives to take care of their families. Our Gorongosa teams are in the field, spreading prevention messages, distributing masks and water purification.” 

Berta Barros, head nurse at Gorongosa, told Carr recently she has three main worries: lack of COVID-19 test kits, lack of healthcare professionals to respond to sick patients, and shortage of medications for treatment. “Mozambique has a population close to 30 million and we only have 34 ventilators,” Barros said. “It’s beyond impossible to work and choose who to save.”

Carr often talks about Mozambique as though he was Mozambican. “We’re very practical people,” he’ll say. “We’re not really theoretical. We’re just going to work our way through this.” He shies away from broad, open-ended questions about Africa, much less cultural comparisons and grand conclusions. “Africa is more than 1 billion people in 54 countries with, what, 2,500 languages? To make a statement like, ‘Africa is this…’ Frankly, I just think a lot of it is complete baloney.”

At the same time, says Carr, “If there’s one thing the rest of the world can learn from Africans, it would be their resilience. We’ve had five years of war in Mozambique and then last year we had a cyclone that killed nearly 1,000 people. I didn’t even mention the two droughts we had in the last seven years and the armyworm that came through and ate everybody’s maize. These people had their homes washed away in a flood last year, lost everything. So they rebuild their homes and then someone says, ‘Hey, there might be a virus coming through.’ It’s just one thing after another.”

What impact might the pandemic have on animals in the park? What effect will it have on just recovered antelope populations, for example, and the inevitable increase in poaching as tourism subsides? How many resources will need to be taken away from the war on other diseases to fight this? Impossible to say. But an anecdote came to Carr’s mind that suggests the vagaries of death in Southern Africa. “I got a call from a dear friend of mine yesterday, a Mozambique good friend, who said her aunt had just died. I said, ‘Wow, do you think it was COVID?’ She goes, ‘No, she’d been suffering for a while with a bad kidney.’ Life is tough in Africa. Do we know for sure this woman didn’t also have COVID and that contributed? Maybe. The truth about Africa is that disaster is hardly news. Malaria is the most prolific killer. And when they turn 50, people die and often no one knows exactly what the cause was. It’s just the way life is.”

Mark MacNamara is an Asheville, North Carolina-based writer. His articles for Nautilus include “We Need to Talk About Peat” and “The Artist of the Unbreakable Code.”

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