If you’re anything like me, you have a favorite chart. Mine has been the same for years. It plots under-five mortality year over year—a figure that has dropped by half since the turn of the century, from over 10 million deaths in 2000 to fewer than 5 million in 2023.

In my view, this data is the strongest evidence we have that progress is possible, even in tough times, and that the investments the world has made in vaccines, oral rehydration, bed nets, and better nutrition are working.

But there's a rule in global health statistics that complicates the story: To count as a death, someone must have first been born alive. It sounds simple and obvious. But in practice, it isn't. That's because every year, about 2 million pregnancies end in stillbirth, which is when a baby is lost at 28 weeks or later. That's late enough that the mother has been feeling the fetus move for months. Many parents have already picked out a name. Often, the loss occurs in the final stretch of a pregnancy, or during labor itself, when everyone was expecting a healthy birth.

These tragedies should be central to how we measure child survival. Instead, they've fallen through the cracks—not quite a maternal health issue, not quite a child mortality issue. The UN didn't publish its first full global estimate of stillbirths until 2020, and stillbirth research is still badly underfunded in both rich and poor countries.

What gets measured gets managed, as the saying goes—and what doesn't, well, doesn't.

The data reflects this disparity. Stillbirths have fallen just 34 percent since 2000, compared to 50 percent for under-five mortality over the same period. In 81 countries—mostly low- and middle-income—the stillbirth rate hasn't meaningfully improved at all in 25 years. For every one stillbirth in Europe, there are roughly 40 in sub-Saharan Africa.

What's frustrating is that we know what causes, and therefore how to prevent, most stillbirths. One of the biggest drivers is pre-eclampsia—a dangerous spike in blood pressure during pregnancy—which is responsible for half a million fetal deaths every year, along with 70,000 maternal deaths. Beyond that, the bulk of stillbirths stem from a cluster of conditions we understand well: maternal infections, obstetric complications during labor, and chronic conditions like untreated diabetes.

If we could catch these problems earlier, we'd have a much better chance of intervening before it's too late. But that's hard to do in the rural clinics where most pregnant women receive care, which often have unreliable electricity, no specialists, and little in the way of lab equipment. By the time pre-eclampsia is obvious, or gestational diabetes has gone unmanaged through the third trimester, the harm is often irreversible. Even emergency intervention may not help.

But a few months ago, I got to hold a device that has the potential to make a huge impact: the Remidio fundus camera. You hold it up to a patient's eye to get a high-resolution image of their retina in seconds, no dilation required. A community health worker with a few hours of training can use it. The device itself is about the size of a handheld video camera, battery-powered, and portable enough to carry from village to village.

Why the retina? It's the only place in the body where you can see blood vessels from the outside.

Remidio is a medtech startup out of India, and its camera was originally built to screen for diabetic eye disease. With an AI system running on a phone the camera plugs into, it can pick up early signs of the disease that would otherwise require blood draws and specialist follow-up to catch. It's already been used that way for more than 15 million patients in 40 countries.

But that same hardware, with different software, can also flag the conditions that drive so many dangerous pregnancies. Gestational diabetes sharply increases the risk of pre-eclampsia, preterm birth, and fetal death, and in most of rural sub-Saharan Africa or South Asia, it usually isn't screened for at all, because the standard test requires a lab. A retinal scan offers a different way in. Remidio’s device is currently being used in India to screen pregnant women for conditions that drive stillbirth. And researchers are now adapting the same hardware to screen for anemia and hypertension, too.

A tool like Remidio’s won’t solve the problem of stillbirths alone. We also need more skilled birth attendants, better emergency obstetric care, and stronger health systems. But small, portable, affordable diagnostics in the hands of community health workers are exactly the kind of lever that can start to move a number that hasn't moved in a long time. That's a big part of why the foundation committed $2.5 billion to women's health research and development last year, our largest investment in this area ever.

In 25 years, I hope my favorite chart in the world will have two lines on it: one tracking under-five mortality, and one tracking stillbirths. With the right commitment, I believe both will have fallen dramatically, and both could be approaching zero.

When most Americans think of polio, we probably picture President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. In 1921, at age 39, he was paralyzed by the virus and never regained the use of his legs. His story helped turn polio into a national cause. But in many ways, his experience was an anomaly.

After all, polio is overwhelmingly a childhood disease, with the vast majority of cases affecting those younger than five. That was true when FDR fell ill, and it’s true today. The typical patient isn’t an adult with an already established political career—it’s a little kid, often a little kid in a low-income country, who might never get the chance to take his first steps.

That injustice is one big reason I've spent the past two decades working to eradicate polio. The other reason is that eradication is actually possible, realistic, and well within reach. This is a disease we can get rid of—not just control, but eliminate everywhere. That is a rarity in global health.

The world has already made extraordinary progress. Back in 1988, when Rotary International and the World Health Assembly set the goal of eradication, the virus was paralyzing more than 350,000 children each year across 125 countries. Since then, cases have dropped by 99.9 percent. The strains known as Type 2 and Type 3 wild poliovirus have been eradicated. The entire African continent is certified wild-polio free. Only two countries—Afghanistan and Pakistan—still have persistent transmission of Type 1 wild poliovirus.

Now we're closer than ever to total polio eradication. But the last mile is proving the hardest because viruses find ways to exploit any immunity gaps or weaknesses. Wherever vaccination rates slip—even briefly—they can resurface.

One of the biggest challenges comes from what are called variant outbreaks. In communities where immunization is low, the weakened virus used in the oral polio vaccine can circulate asymptomatically and rarely, over time, mutate enough to regain the ability to cause paralysis in unvaccinated children.

While most variant outbreaks happen in places with extremely low vaccination coverage, poor sanitation, and weaker health systems, no place is risk-free until the world is polio-free. In 2022, the United States confirmed its first paralytic polio case in nearly a decade, and the virus was detected in New York wastewater samples. In the time since, variant polioviruses have also been found in the U.K., Ukraine, Indonesia, and other countries.

The good news is that today’s tools are better than anything we had even five years ago, and they make every dollar spent on the cause go further than ever before. We have a new oral vaccine, nOPV2, that’s far less likely to mutate and lead to new variant outbreaks; nearly two billion doses have already been given worldwide. New regional labs in Ghana, Nigeria, South Africa, and Uganda that test wastewater samples and sequence viruses have cut detection times by over 30 percent, which gives health workers a critical head start on outbreak response. And the surveillance network for polio is one of the most sophisticated ever built—also helping alert public health officials to outbreaks of cholera, measles, Ebola, and even COVID-19 at the height of that pandemic.

The Gates Foundation has been proud to support these advances as part of the Global Polio Eradication Initiative, a coalition of the WHO, UNICEF, the CDC, Gavi, Rotary International, and dozens of countries’ governments. It’s one of the most successful collaborations in the history of global health.

But right now, GPEI is facing a $1.7 billion funding gap, with various long-term donor governments cutting back their support. Without the right resources, vaccination campaigns may have to be scaled back, surveillance sites will likely close, and the virus could spread globally.

In the century since FDR was paralyzed by the virus, American leadership and generosity have helped turn polio into a fight the whole world could win. From the March of Dimes, which funded research, to the development of the first vaccines, to support for eradication campaigns, U.S. commitment has been decisive.

The world is at the brink of ending this terrible disease, and the stakes of this moment couldn’t be higher. If we finish the job, we free up billions of dollars for other health priorities and—most importantly—protect generations of children from a virus that has paralyzed millions. If we back down from the fight, up to 200,000 children could be paralyzed each year within a decade.

We have the scientific tools and infrastructure needed to cross the finish line. And we have hundreds of thousands of committed vaccinators who are determined to get us there—who go door to door across deserts, jungles, floodplains, and war zones to make sure no child is missed. I've met them, I've heard their stories, and I've seen how determined they are to finish the job.

We should be too.

How do you get to work? Some people roll out of bed and move 10 feet to their desk. Others walk to the office or take public transit. I usually drive a car.

No matter how you get there, I guarantee that your commute isn’t as wild as Agnes Nambozo’s: She regularly climbs a rickety ladder that is nearly 1,000 feet tall—or 300 meters—before she can start work for the day.

Agnes is a nurse based in Buluganya, located in the shadow of Mount Elgon in eastern Uganda. Like many nurses in rural communities across sub-Saharan Africa, she wears a lot of different hats. She might spend one day delivering babies and treating wounds and the next as a health educator, promoting good nutrition and sanitation in her community. The days Agnes believes she makes the biggest difference, though, are the ones when she treks deep into the Ugandan countryside to vaccinate children.

Uganda has done an amazing job of reducing childhood mortality over the last 25 years. In 2000, about 145 children died per every thousand live births. By 2023, that figure had dropped to fewer than 40 deaths per 1,000 births. A lot of that progress can be attributed to vaccines and vaccinators like Agnes.

Eastern Uganda is a gorgeous place, but parts of it are incredibly difficult to cross. Many of the communities Agnes visits are high in the mountains. Some are only accessible by ladders, which act as links between communities. Older children can climb down them to go to school, but they are too steep for the little ones. Mothers can’t safely carry their babies down the ladders to the health clinic, so Agnes comes to them.

When Agnes was a little girl, she wanted to be a police officer—until her mom convinced her the job was too dangerous. Instead, she took a nursing course. She fell in love with the profession, even though it ended up being a much riskier job than her mom ever imagined. She travels to the villages to vaccinate kids in all kinds of weather. It’s often rainy in the mountains, and the ladders become slippery. “The ladders are risky because you might miss a step,” she says. “If you are lucky, you can get a fracture. If you’re not lucky, you can lose your life.”

On the days when she heads into the field to vaccinate children, Agnes leaves her house by 6:00 am. She takes a taxi from where she lives in Sironko to Buyaga, a town closer to where the health clinic is located. Cars can’t drive on the road to the clinic, so she takes a motorbike for the last stretch.

She arrives at the clinic around 8:00 am and starts packing for the day. Rural vaccinators like Agnes must carry their supplies on their backs, and there’s an art to making sure everything is loaded properly. The vaccines must be kept cold so she wears a heavy insulated backpack stuffed with ice packs.

Agnes then hops on another motorbike to a staging location before heading off on foot to the ladders. By the time she reaches the village and starts setting up to immunize the community, it’s usually around 10:30—more than four hours after she left her house for the day.

She comes in with a plan for how many people she’ll vaccinate, but Agnes always brings a couple extra doses just in case. A typical day usually means around 50 patients. Most are children under 5, who get vaccinated against deadly diseases like polio, measles, tetanus, and pneumonia. The latter is especially important in a region as rainy as this one, where the damp weather makes people more susceptible to respiratory diseases.

Agnes and her colleagues are often the only health workers who visit the most remote communities in the mountains, so they also provide general nursing care while they’re there. Agnes regularly gives kids deworming treatments and key supplements like vitamin A. She answers questions from the adults and offers them health guidance, including advice on planning a family.

After she wraps up for the day, Agnes makes the long trek back home. It’s exhausting, difficult work, but she is proud to help so many people. “Our motto for nurses in Uganda is ‘To love and serve,’” she says. “And to me, love is not just a word. It’s a verb.”

Unfortunately, Agnes’s job recently became a lot more difficult. Many of her colleagues at the health clinic in Buluganya were supported by USAID, and they lost their jobs when funding was cut. Some of the positions that were eliminated supported new and expectant mothers. Others worked on HIV and tuberculosis, distributing medication and testing high-risk individuals to prevent further spread.  

Agnes and the others who are left are doing their best to ensure communities still receive care, but they can only do so much. “Our community is suffering a lot,” she says. She is worried about burnout if funding isn’t restored.

Still, Agnes won’t rest until she has helped as many people as she can. Thanks to the support of the Rotary Club of Kampala, she recently went back to school and is working towards a degree in nursing. She hopes to learn new skills that will save even more lives.

“My dream is to make people feel good, to make them happy, and to give my service to the people,” says Agnes. “When you have positivity, nothing is impossible.”

What’s for dinner?

It’s a question asked every day in homes around the world. No other organization has done as much to ensure families—especially the poorest—have an answer to that question as CGIAR, the world’s largest global agricultural research organization.

More than 50 years ago, CGIAR’s research into high-yielding, disease-resistant rice and wheat launched the Green Revolution, saving more than a billion people from starvation. In the years since then, their work on everything from livestock and potatoes to rice and maize has helped reduce poverty, increase food security, and improve nutrition.

Never heard of CGIAR? You’re not alone. It’s an organization that defies easy brand recognition. For starters, its name is often mistaken for “cigar,” suggesting a link to the tobacco industry. And it doesn’t help that CGIAR is not a single organization, but a network of 15 independent research centers, most referred to by their own confusing acronyms. The list includes CIFOR, ICARDA, CIAT, ICRISAT, IFPRI, IITA, ILRI, CIMMYT, CIP, IRRI, IWMI, and ICRAF, leaving the uninitiated feeling as if they’ve fallen into a bowl of alphabet soup.

It’s too bad that more people don’t know about CGIAR. Their work to feed our hungry planet is as important now as it’s ever been. By 2050, as the world’s population gets bigger and incomes increase (which causes dietary changes like eating more meat), global food demand is expected to increase by 60 percent. Meeting this challenge is made tougher by climate change, which is affecting food production in every corner of the globe. Farmers are under assault from shifting rainfall, more frequent and extreme droughts and floods, and severe pest and disease outbreaks among crops and livestock.

The people who are most affected by these changes today are the world’s smallholder farmers. About 500 million farming households, in South Asia and sub-Saharan Africa, earn their living by raising crops and livestock on small parcels of land. These families have the fewest resources to cope with the many impacts of a warming climate.

I’ve been writing a lot this year about why reducing emissions from all sectors of our economy, including agriculture and electricity generation, is critical in our fight against climate change. But it’s equally important for the world to stay focused on helping vulnerable populations, like smallholder farmers, prepare for the disruptive impacts of climate change. We owe it to them. The people who will suffer most from climate change, especially in sub-Saharan Africa, are the least responsible for emitting these greenhouse gases. According to an Africa Progress Panel report, an average Ethiopian would have to live for 240 years to equal the carbon footprint of the average American.

I’m now co-chairing the new Global Commission on Adaptation, which is playing a key role in building government and public support for efforts to reduce the impacts of climate change on communities most at risk. We will need CGIAR’s research to help supply farmers with a steady stream of climate-smart crop varieties.

A great example of a CGIAR innovation helping smallholder farmers adapt to climate change is its drought-tolerant maize program. More than 200 million households in sub-Saharan Africa depend on maize for their livelihoods. Maize productivity in Africa is already the lowest in the world. And as weather patterns have become more erratic, farmers are at greater risk of having smaller maize harvests, and sometimes no harvest at all.

In response to this challenge, CGIAR’s International Maize and Wheat Improvement Center or CIMMYT, with funding from our foundation, USAID and the Howard Buffett Foundation, developed more than 150 new maize varieties that could withstand drought conditions. Each variety is adapted to grow in specific regions of Africa. At first, many smallholder farmers were afraid of trying new crop varieties instead of more commonly planted ones. But as CIMMYT worked with local farmers and seed dealers to share the benefits of these new varieties, more and more farmers adopted drought tolerant maize. The results have been life changing for many farming families.

In Zimbabwe, for example, farmers in drought-stricken areas using drought-tolerant maize were able to harvest up to 600 kilograms more maize per hectare than farmers using conventional varieties. The additional harvest was enough to feed a family of six for 9 months. For farming families who chose to sell their harvests, it was worth $240 in extra income, giving them much-needed cash to send their children to school and meet other household needs.

CIMMYT, in partnership with another CGIAR center, the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture or IITA, has gone on to develop other maize varieties for farmers who are not only vulnerable to drought, but also poor soils, disease, pests, and weeds. These varieties are expected to give farmers up to 30 percent greater yields and help them fight malnutrition.

CGIAR’s team of more than 8,000 scientists and staff around the world are also developing other tools to help farmers adapt to unpredictable weather and diseases. They have created a smart phone app that allows farmers to use the camera on their phone to identify specific pests and disease attacking cassava, an important cash crop in Africa. There are also new programs to use drones and ground sensors to help wheat and sugarcane farmers determine how much water and fertilizer their crops need.

We will need many new ideas like these to help farmers be prepared to meet the challenges of our changing climate. If they are, we will all have an answer to the question “What’s for dinner?” for years to come.

I’ve just wrapped up a busy five-day trip to Ethiopia and Nigeria. It’s the kind of trip that’s both tiring and energizing at the same time. Even though I stay in touch with a lot of partners in both countries—the Gates Foundation has been funding work in them for more than 15 years—there’s nothing quite like visiting to see the work in action.

Whenever I get home from a trip like this, friends are curious to hear how it went. Here’s what I’m telling them. From 2000 to 2019 or so, Ethiopia and Nigeria led the way on dramatic improvements in health and poverty that rippled across Sub-Saharan Africa. Since then, the pandemic, extreme weather, and political and economic instability have set both countries back, along with much of the rest of the continent. But as I saw on this trip, there’s great work going on in both places that makes me optimistic about their future, and Africa’s.

I want to share a few photos from the week. Thanks to everyone who shared their time and insights with me, including Prime Minister Ahmed of Ethiopia, Nigerian health minister Muhammad Ali Pate, and a special guest who came along for the trip: the amazing musician Jon Batiste. The foundation will be working with African partners even more in the future, and based on what I saw this week, my next visit will be just as inspiring.

Twenty-five years ago, I encountered a question that I have thought about literally every day since: Why do children die?

Before I tell you what drew me to this mystery, I want to acknowledge that child mortality is not an easy subject to talk about. As a parent, I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child. It is shocking even to see the words “children” and “die” used in the same sentence.

But I think “why do children die?” is one of the most important questions ever. It is hard to think of a measure of how a society is doing that reveals more than whether it is protecting its children, and especially its most vulnerable children. And the better we understand why children die, the more we can do to save them.

The very good news is that the world has made phenomenal progress in this area over the past several decades. Since 1990, the number of children who die every year has fallen by more than half! If progress on child mortality is a good measure of the state of the world, then—despite the huge global setbacks of the past few years, including COVID-19—the state of the world has improved dramatically. And based on what I know about innovations that are still to come, we can look forward to even more progress in the years ahead.

My introduction to the subject came 25 years ago, when I read a New York Times article about the health problems caused by unsafe drinking water in low- and middle-income countries. I was shocked to learn that every year, 3.1 million people—nearly all of them children—died of diarrhea, often because they had drunk contaminated water. Diarrhea kills 3.1 million children?, I thought. That can’t be true, can it? But it was.

I had to know more. What other major inequities did I not know about?

I read everything about global health that I could find, and I spoke to as many experts as I could. I learned that researchers define child mortality as the death of anyone under the age of 5. They use that age because the first five years are the riskiest time of childhood, when kids are the most vulnerable.

Learning about the history of child mortality helped me put the statistics in context. In 1950, some 20 million children died. In 1990, it was down to 12 million children, even though more babies were being born. By 2000, the number had dropped to fewer than 10 million. By 2019, it was below 5 million. Virtually all of these deaths occur in low- and middle-income countries.

So the next question was, why were so many children dying?

Around 18 percent of the deaths were caused by non-communicable conditions, such as cancer and cardiovascular problems. The large majority—82 percent—of the deaths were caused by communicable diseases, such as diarrhea and malaria, and health problems that their mothers experienced—and exacerbated by risk factors including malnutrition. (This 18:82 ratio still holds true today.)

On one hand, this was heartbreaking. The worst killers were all things that people in rich countries considered just an unpleasant episode (such as diarrhea) or never experienced at all anymore (such as malaria). In other words, although it was obviously true that children were dying because of deadly diseases, that was only part of the explanation. They were also dying because of where they were born.

On the other hand, it was encouraging to learn that such a large share of the deaths was preventable. When I saw the breakdown of diseases, I thought: Here is our road map. This is what the Gates Foundation should be working on. With the right team, partners, and funding, we could help the world move through the list, systematically going after the worst killers. The solutions that already existed could be made more affordable and delivered to people in low-income countries. The ones that didn’t exist could be invented.

Here is the chart as it looks today:

As you can see, pneumonia is the top preventable cause, but the story here is one of real progress. In 2000, it took the lives of more than 1.5 million children, but by 2019, the number was around 670,000—still an awful number, but a reduction of more than 55 percent. The innovation related to pneumonia that’s going on today is so exciting that I made a separate post and video about it.

Diarrhea is another example of progress. In two decades, its death toll has dropped 58 percent. A key reason is the use of low-tech interventions like oral rehydration solution (sugar water, essentially), which replaces lost electrolytes. Governments also ran large-scale sanitation programs to cut down on the spread of bacteria. And scientists developed an affordable rotavirus vaccine, and the world came together to deliver it. Between 2010 and 2020, this vaccine prevented more than 200,000 deaths. By 2030, it will have prevented more than half a million deaths.

Even though the overall number of deaths has gone down by half, the relative positions of the top three killers have not changed. They are the same today as in 1990: neonatal disorders, pneumonia, and diarrheal diseases. As you can see in this graphic, the fourth slot is where there has been a huge shift. In 1990, it was occupied by measles, responsible for half a million deaths. Today, it’s malaria that is in the fourth slot—not because malaria deaths went up (they actually went down), but because measles deaths fell by a whopping 87 percent.

Why? Vaccines. Since 2000, Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance has provided measles vaccines to more than 500 million children—half a billion!—through routine immunization and special vaccination campaigns. (This is just one example of the magic of vaccines—although unfortunately vaccination rates have dropped because of the pandemic and other factors.) And malaria may not be #4 on that list for long, thanks to innovations like malaria vaccines, improved insecticide-treated bed nets, and sugar baits.

Many groups deserve credit for the decades of progress I’ve described in this post. Countries with high disease burdens have launched massive vaccination campaigns, strengthened their health systems, and shared best practices with each other. Wealthy countries generously give aid that supports these efforts. Pharmaceutical companies have contributed technical expertise and made products affordable for low- and middle-income countries. Foundations including the Gates Foundation have stepped up with additional funding for innovative ideas. (At the foundation, we have staff and partners dedicated to each slice of the pie you see above.)

Although it’s still true that too many children do not live to see their fifth birthday, the world is moving in the right direction. If everyone keeps doing their part, we can move even faster and save even more lives. Because of COVID and other setbacks, the United Nations’ goal to cut childhood deaths in half again to below 3 million by 2030 will be missed, but it can still be achieved the following decade.

At a time when war and pandemic are in the news every day, it is important to look for reasons to be hopeful. The world’s opportunity—and ability—to save children’s lives is surely one of those reasons.

Have you ever visited a place you haven’t been in a while, and it somehow manages to feel both new and familiar? That’s how I feel every time I go back to Nigeria.

It was amazing to return to Lagos and Abuja this week. I’ve been fortunate to spend a lot of time in Nigeria over the last two-plus decades, but it’s been nearly five years since my last visit due to the pandemic. Nigeria—and especially Lagos—is one of the most dynamic, vibrant places in the world, and I am always blown away by how much it's changed. At the same time, I loved getting to catch up with old friends and reconnect in person with longtime partners. (Remote meetings are great, but it’s nice to meet face-to-face on occasion.)

This week also marked my first-ever trip to Niger. Our foundation has been working with talented Nigeriens for years to help ensure children's health and prevent the spread of polio, and it was exciting to see the country for myself and talk about the future of that work.

It was a great week. These were some of my favorite moments:

The great epidemiologist Larry Brilliant once said that “outbreaks are inevitable, but pandemics are optional.” I thought about this quote and what it reveals about the COVID-19 pandemic often while I was working on my new book.

On the one hand, it’s disheartening to imagine how much loss and suffering could’ve been avoided if we’d only made better choices. We are now more than two years into the pandemic. The world did not prioritize global health until it was too late, and the result has been catastrophic. Countries failed to prepare for pandemics, rich countries reduced funding for R&D, and most governments failed to strengthen their health systems. Although we’re finally reaching the light at the end of the tunnel, COVID still kills several thousand people every day.

On the other hand, Dr. Brilliant’s quote makes me feel hopeful. No one wants to live through this again—and we don’t have to. Outbreaks are inevitable, but pandemics are optional. The world doesn’t need to live in fear of the next pandemic. If we make key investments that benefit everyone, COVID-19 could be the last pandemic ever.

This idea is what my book, How to Prevent the Next Pandemic , is all about. I’ve been part of the effort to stop COVID since the early days of the outbreak, working together with experts from inside and out of the Gates Foundation who have been fighting infectious diseases for decades. I’m excited to share what I've learned along the way, because our experience with COVID gives us a clear pathway for how to be ready next time.

So, how do we do it? In my book, I explain the steps we need to take to get ready. Together, they add up to a plan for eliminating the pandemic as a threat to humanity. These steps—alongside the remarkable progress we’ve already made over the last two years in creating new tools and understanding infectious diseases—will reduce the chance that anyone has to live through another COVID.

Imagine a scenario like this: A concerning outbreak is rapidly identified by local public health agencies, which function effectively in even the world’s poorest countries. Anything out of the ordinary is shared with scientists for study, and the information is uploaded to a global database monitored by a dedicated team.

If a threat is detected, governments sound the alarm and initiate public recommendations for travel, social distancing, and emergency planning. They start using the blunt tools that are already on hand, such as quarantines, antivirals that protect against almost any strain, and tests that can be performed anywhere.

If this isn’t sufficient, then the world’s innovators immediately get to work developing new tests, treatments, and vaccines. Diagnostics in particular ramp up extremely fast so that large numbers of people can be tested in a short time. New drugs and vaccines are approved quickly, because we’ve agreed ahead of time on how to run trials safely and share the results. Once they’re ready to go into production, manufacturing gears up right away because factories are already in place and approved.

No one gets left behind, because we’ve already worked out how to rapidly make enough vaccines for everyone. Everything gets where it’s supposed to, when it’s supposed to, because we’ve set up systems to get products delivered all the way to the patient. Communications about the situation are clear and avoid panic.

And this all happens quickly. The goal is to contain outbreaks within the first 100 days before they ever have the chance to spread around the world. If we had stopped the COVID pandemic before 100 days, we could’ve saved over 98 percent of the lives lost.

I hope people who read the book come away with a sense that ending the threat of pandemics forever is a realistic, achievable, and essential goal. I believe this is something that everyone—whether you’re an epidemiologist, a policymaker, or just someone who’s exhausted from the last two years–should care about.

The best part is we have an opportunity to not just stop things from getting worse but to make them better. Even when we’re not facing an active outbreak, the steps we can take to prevent the next pandemic will also make people healthier, save lives, and shrink the health gap between the rich and the poor. The tools that stop an outbreak can also help us find and treat more HIV cases. They can protect more children from deadly diseases like malaria, and they can give more people around the world access to high quality care.

Shrinking the health gap was the life’s work of my friend Paul Farmer, who tragically died in his sleep in February. That’s why I’m dedicating my proceeds from this book to his organization Partners in Health, which provides amazing health care to people in some of the poorest countries in the world. I will miss Paul deeply, but I am comforted by the knowledge that his influence will be felt for decades to come.

If there’s one thing the world has learned over the last two years, it’s that we can’t keep living with the threat of another variant—or another pathogen—hanging over our heads. This is a pivotal moment. There is more momentum than ever before to stop pandemics forever. No one who lived through COVID will ever forget it. Just like a war can change the way a generation looks at the world, COVID has changed the way we see the world.

Although it may not always feel like it, we have made tremendous progress over the last two years. New tools will let us respond faster next time, and new capabilities have made us better prepared to fight deadly pathogens. The world wasn’t ready for COVID, but we can choose to be ready next time.

Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve tackled every big new problem the same way: by starting off with two questions. I used this technique at Microsoft, and I still use it today. I ask these questions literally every week about COVID-19.

Here they are: Who has dealt with this problem well? And what can we learn from them?

They seem like obvious questions, but sometimes it's surprisingly hard to find the answers—especially when it comes to global health. There are low- and middle-income countries that have made huge leaps in, for example, delivering vaccines or ending malnutrition. But anyone who wants to identify those countries, find out how they did it, and apply the lessons in their own country would have their work cut out for them.

In sports, every coach is able to study the most successful teams and figure out what they’re doing well. There’s no reason that things should be any different when the goal is preventing childhood deaths instead of scoring touchdowns.

That’s why I was eager to be part of a global effort to fill the gap. Over the past three years, health experts and organizations from countries at every income level (including the Gates Foundation) have come together to find out who has made the most progress on certain health problems, identify what made them so successful, and help others put these lessons into action.

The result of all this effort—the Exemplars in Global Health program—launched earlier this year. If you want to know which countries have made the most progress with limited resources, Exemplars is a great place to start.

For now, Exemplars focuses on five areas: under-five mortality; vaccine delivery; the role of community health workers; epidemic preparedness and response; and childhood stunting (the reduction in physical and mental development caused by poor nutrition). The team will be adding other areas, including newborn and maternal mortality, family planning, maternal anemia, and primary health care systems.

The Exemplars team has scoured the world for the best performers and worked with experts in those countries to find out what worked so well. For example, they identified seven countries that have excelled at reducing the number of children who die before their fifth birthday: Bangladesh, Cambodia, Ethiopia, Nepal, Peru, Rwanda, and Senegal. The Exemplars website has a profile of each country, detailing insights from its work that other countries could learn from.

Bangladesh—whose childhood mortality rate dropped 56 percent between 2000 and 2015—used data, research, and testing especially well, and empowered women to make decisions about their children’s health. Peru, which achieved roughly the same decline as Bangladesh, conducted local studies to identify interventions that might suit specific communities. All seven countries built up strong community health systems and made specific efforts to close the equity gap by reaching the poorest people.

Of course, not all lessons can be applied in the same way everywhere. What works in one country may not work exactly the same way in another. And it is not always obvious how to implement big changes in national health systems, which are very complex and require a lot of coordination among the government, the private sector, and non-profits.

Recognizing these challenges, the Exemplars program is much more than a website. There is also a community of global and in-country experts ready to help countries make the case for investing in the most effective programs and figure out how to adapt the lessons to their particular needs. We’re not interested in simply getting the information out there—we want to help drive change.

Our hope is to connect with decisionmakers: people who work in the governments of low- and middle-income countries, at development agencies like America’s USAID and the World Bank, and at organizations that implement health programs. Exemplars is all about figuring out how to improve health care based on evidence of what works. It will help governments use time and money more efficiently—and with the COVID-19 pandemic, there has never been a greater need to get the most impact out of every dollar spent.

I’m grateful to all the people in governments, academia, and non-profits who made the Exemplars program possible. We all started out with one goal in mind: to accelerate the progress in improving health, so that the poorest countries don't have 20 times the childhood death rate of the richest ones. I think Exemplars is a great resource that will spread success stories so even countries with very little money can benefit. And that will, ultimately, save lives.

This post originally appeared as an opinion piece in the Washington Post. It’s adapted from a longer article, which you can read here.

It’s entirely understandable that the national conversation has turned to a single question: “When can we get back to normal?” The shutdown has caused immeasurable pain in jobs lost, people isolated, and worsening inequity. People are ready to get going again.

Unfortunately, although we have the will, we don’t have the way—not yet. Before the United States and other countries can return to business and life as usual, we will need some innovative new tools that help us detect, treat, and prevent COVID-19.

It begins with testing. We can’t defeat an enemy if we don’t know where it is. To reopen the economy, we need to be testing enough people that we can quickly detect emerging hotspots and intervene early. We don’t want to wait until the hospitals start to fill up and more people die.

Innovation can help us get the numbers up. The current coronavirus tests require that health-care workers perform nasal swabs, which means they have to change their protective gear before every test. But our foundation supported research showing that having patients do the swab themselves produces results that are just as accurate. This self-swab approach is faster and safer, since regulators should be able to approve swabbing at home or in other locations rather than having people risk additional contact.

Another diagnostic test under development would work much like an at-home pregnancy test. You would swab your nose, but instead of sending it into a processing center, you’d put it in a liquid and then pour that liquid onto a strip of paper, which would change color if the virus was present. This test may be available in a few months.

We need one other advance in testing, but it’s social, not technical: consistent standards about who can get tested. If the country doesn’t test the right people—essential workers, people who are symptomatic, and those who have been in contact with someone who tested positive—then we’re wasting a precious resource and potentially missing big reserves of the virus. Asymptomatic people who aren’t in one of those three groups should not be tested until there are enough tests for everyone else.

The second area where we need innovation is contact tracing. Once someone tests positive, public-health officials need to know who else that person might have infected.

For now, the United States can follow Germany’s example: interview everyone who tests positive and use a database to make sure someone follows up with all their contacts. This approach is far from perfect, because it relies on the infected person to report their contacts accurately and requires a lot of staff to follow up with everyone in person. But it would be an improvement over the sporadic way that contact tracing is being done across the United States now.

An even better solution would be the broad, voluntary adoption of digital tools. For example, there are apps that will help you remember where you have been; if you ever test positive, you can review the history or choose to share it with whoever comes to interview you about your contacts. And some people have proposed allowing phones to detect other phones that are near them by using Bluetooth and emitting sounds that humans can’t hear. If someone tested positive, their phone would send a message to the other phones, and their owners could get tested. If most people chose to install this kind of application, it would probably help some.

Naturally, anyone who tests positive will immediately want to know about treatment options. Yet, right now, there is no treatment for COVID-19. Hydroxychloroquine, which works by changing the way the human body reacts to a virus, has received a lot of attention. Our foundation is funding a clinical trial that will give an indication whether it works on COVID-19 by the end of May, and it appears the benefits will be modest at best.

But several more-promising candidates are on the horizon. One involves drawing blood from patients who have recovered from COVID-19, making sure it is free of the coronavirus and other infections, and giving the plasma (and the antibodies it contains) to sick people. Several major companies are working together to see whether this succeeds.

Another type of drug candidate involves identifying the antibodies that are most effective against the novel coronavirus, and then manufacturing them in a lab. If this works, it is not yet clear how many doses could be produced; it depends on how much antibody material is needed per dose. In 2021, manufacturers may be able to make as few as 100,000 treatments or many millions.

If, a year from now, people are going to big public events—such as games or concerts in a stadium—it will be because researchers have discovered an extremely effective treatment that makes everyone feel safe to go out again. Unfortunately, based on the evidence I’ve seen, they’ll likely find a good treatment, but not one that virtually guarantees you’ll recover.

That’s why we need to invest in a fourth area of innovation: making a vaccine. Every additional month that it takes to produce a vaccine is a month in which the economy cannot completely return to normal.

The new approach I’m most excited about is known as an RNA vaccine. (The first COVID-19 vaccine to start human trials is an RNA vaccine.) Unlike a flu shot, which contains fragments of the influenza virus so your immune system can learn to attack them, an RNA vaccine gives your body the genetic code needed to produce viral fragments on its own. When the immune system sees these fragments, it learns how to attack them. An RNA vaccine essentially turns your body into its own vaccine manufacturing unit.

There are at least five other efforts that look promising. But because no one knows which approach will work, a number of them need to be funded so they can all advance at full speed simultaneously.

Even before there’s a safe, effective vaccine, governments need to work out how to distribute it. The countries that provide the funding, the countries where the trials are run, and the ones that are hardest-hit will all have a good case that they should receive priority. Ideally, there would be global agreement about who should get the vaccine first, but given how many competing interests there are, this is unlikely to happen. Whoever solves this problem equitably will have made a major breakthrough.

World War II was the defining moment of my parents’ generation. Similarly, the coronavirus pandemic—the first in a century—will define this era. But there is one big difference between a world war and a pandemic: All of humanity can work together to learn about the disease and develop the capacity to fight it. With the right tools in hand, and smart implementation, we will eventually be able to declare an end to this pandemic—and turn our attention to how to prevent and contain the next one.

It’s Mosquito Week again on the Gates Notes. This year I’m exploring some of the science behind malaria and other mosquito-borne diseases. You can read below about how gene editing could play a key role in eradicating malaria. I’ve also written about amazing advances in tracking the disease and how the parasite is a deadly shapeshifter.

Humans have spent thousands of years inventing new ways to kill mosquitoes. The Romans did it by draining swamps. Today you might have a bug zapper in your back yard. In low- and middle-income countries, it’s common to see people spraying insecticides or setting up sticky traps baited with sugar.

But evolution is smart. It is one-upping us by creating mosquitoes that are harder to kill. In sub-Saharan Africa and parts of South America and southeast Asia, we are seeing an alarming number of mosquitoes that can withstand insecticides.

This is especially problematic for the fight against mosquito-borne diseases like malaria. To eradicate these diseases, we need new tools to complement the ones we already have.

Our foundation is backing a lot of different advances. One that I’m especially excited about is a set of techniques for genetically modifying mosquitoes that could dramatically reduce the number of disease-carrying insects in certain areas.

What is cool about these genetic techniques is how precise they can be. Precision matters because out of more than 3,000 species of mosquitoes, only five are responsible for causing most cases of malaria. Of those, only females spread the disease, because they’re the only ones that bite humans. (They do it when they need extra protein for reproduction. Experts call it “taking a blood meal.”) The males just drink nectar.

The promise of gene editing is that, instead of killing a bunch of mosquitoes indiscriminately, we could eliminate only the dangerous ones in a particular area. That would buy us time to cure all the people there of malaria. Then we could let the mosquito population return without the parasite.

One exciting gene-editing technique is called gene drive. The term covers several different approaches, but the basic idea is to use the CRISPR method to rewrite the usual rules of inheritance. Normally, for any given gene, there’s a 50 percent chance that a parent with that gene will pass it on to a child. (It is competing with one from the other parent, and only one of the two can win.) With gene drive, the odds go up to 100 percent. You give a few mosquitoes an edited gene that inserts—or drives—itself into all their offspring. When those mosquitoes mate with wild mosquitoes, all their children will have the edited gene, and over time it will make its way through the entire population.

Imagine if blue-eyed mosquitoes had only blue-eyed children, no matter what color their partners’ eyes were. Eventually, every mosquito in that population would have blue eyes.

This chart shows you how gene drive eventually spreads a gene throughout an entire population:

There’s no reason to think gene drive is even feasible in humans, let alone advisable. There are also serious questions surrounding the use of this technology on insects, which I will get to in a moment. But first I want to give you two examples of how it works.

One is the colorfully named X-shredder. As you might remember from biology class, the sex of a mosquito is determined partly by the sex chromosomes it inherits from its parents. Females got one X chromosome from each parent; males got an X from their mother and a Y from their father.

In 2014, scientists at Imperial College London and the Fred Hutchinson center here in Seattle were able to edit a protein in male mosquitoes so that it shreds the X chromosomes in their sperm. As a result, the males pass along mostly Y chromosomes, so most of their offspring will be males. Thanks to gene drive, those offspring will also have the edited protein, so most of their children will be males.

Within a few generations, the male/female ratio gets out of whack, and eventually the species dies off in that area.

Another example involves the doublesex gene, which in mosquitoes works along with the sex chromosome to determine whether an insect turns out male or female. Last year, researchers at Imperial College London found that females with edited doublesex genes develop a mix of male and female organs, including male genitalia and a proboscis that is too flimsy to break human skin. They can’t reproduce, so the population shrinks; and they can’t take a blood meal, so they won’t spread the parasite.

The doublesex edit doesn’t affect males, although thanks to gene drive, they will pass it to their offspring, which is how it keeps spreading through the population.

We know gene-drive technology works in the lab. When the Imperial College researchers put 150 males carrying a copy of the doublesex edit in a small cage with 450 wild-type mosquitoes, the population died off within a few months (about 10 generations). The sex bias edit produced similar results.

The next step is to run tests in larger cages and, eventually, get permission from governments to do them outdoors. We need to understand things like: What’s the impact on the food chain if a certain species of mosquito starts dying off? How many altered insects would we need to introduce? How long do we need the mosquitoes to be gone? Last year, the government of Burkina-Faso agreed to allow the release of sterile, non-gene-drive mosquitoes in the wild so researchers could begin to study some of these questions.

As I mentioned, social and regulatory issues also come into play. For example, because mosquitoes don’t exactly respect national boundaries, neighboring countries will probably need to agree on the rules surrounding the use of gene-editing technology. Policymakers and scientists have been debating these questions in forums like the World Health Organization and the African Union’s development agency, and they are moving toward a consensus.

I think we can have the regulatory approvals in place by 2024 and the first gene-drive mosquitoes ready for use by 2026. Although this technique will never replace the other tools we have for fighting malaria, I’m optimistic that it could become one more important weapon in eradicating the disease.

Of all the things I did when I visited Cornell University recently, I probably had the most fun brushing up on how plants have sex.

Cornell is one of the world’s top universities for research on improving crops. Their work involves a lot of plant breeding. During one meeting, I got to try my hand at cross-pollinating wheat, which is a surprisingly delicate procedure. It gave me even more respect for the people who do it every day.

Cornell’s work on crop improvement also involves a lot of cutting-edge genetics. You might see the words “crop improvement” and “genetics” in the same sentence and think I’m talking about GMOs. Although Melinda and I do support research in that area—we don’t think poor farmers should be denied the choice to use any tools that might benefit them—the work I saw at Cornell is different. It’s focused on how the science of genetics can improve agriculture in other ways. And the advances are really exciting.

I got interested in crop breeding through my work with the Gates Foundation. Because most of the world’s poor people are farmers, helping farmers grow more food is one of the most powerful levers we have for fighting poverty. The faster we can improve crops—making them more nutritious or drought-tolerant, for instance—the faster we can help farmers become more productive.

My main guide was Dr. Ed Buckler, a scientist in his mid 40s who works at Cornell for the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA). Over the four hours we spent together I asked Ed dozens of questions (I’ve learned a lot about agriculture, but I’m still a city boy at heart), and he was always quick with an answer. Yet Ed and his colleagues aren’t just experts in their field—they’re also deeply passionate about their work. I can see why: The advances they’re working on will change people’s lives by dramatically accelerating a process that is now slow and laborious.

Here’s how it works today. Suppose you want a variety of corn with a natural resistance to a certain pest. You start by planting as much corn as you can. You wait 8 to 12 weeks for it to grow, and then you take pollen from some of the plants that aren’t infested and use it to pollinate others. If the offspring of those plants is pest-resistant, you’re in luck—your plant won the genetic lottery. If not, you have to start over. Because you’re limited by the growing season, the process can take seven to ten years.

Genetics research will cut that time in half.

Getting there takes three steps. One is to understand the crop’s genetic makeup. Ed took me on a short tour of a lab where machines called sequencers were analyzing DNA from thousands of plants. They were mapping the genes that give each plant its physical traits: its height, color, etc.

The second step is to go into the field and record those physical traits for each individual plant whose genes you’re studying. Cornell researchers are growing hundreds of acres of corn and other crops not far from campus, and they make regular treks out there to collect data. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time for a field trip on this visit.

Finally, you build a computer model that puts the two together—the genetic maps of individual plants, along with the data about their physical traits. Once you have that model, you no longer need to cross two plants and just hope for the best. You can ask the computer, “Out of all the plants I have in my field, which two should I breed in order to produce one that is pest-resistant?” Think of it as a highly sophisticated Match.com for plants.

Cornell and the USDA have already built such a model for some traits in corn; because people in rich countries eat corn, there’s a big market for better varieties. Meanwhile, crops that are eaten mostly by the poor have largely been ignored by scientists. But that’s starting to change.

With support from the British government, our foundation, and others, researchers at Cornell and the USDA are now working on a model for cassava, a root vegetable that’s a staple crop in many tropical regions. Partners in Uganda and Nigeria are growing lots of plants, recording their traits, and sending genetic samples to Cornell for sequencing. When the cassava model is finished, it will help breeders develop new varieties faster than ever. (Incidentally, I’m fascinated by cassava—and you may not know that it is responsible for the fun factor in bubble tea.)

During my visit, I learned about one trait that I had never thought about before: poundability. Over lunch with several graduate students, a Ugandan researcher named Paula Iragaba told me that women in her country do most of the work to turn cassava into flour, and they wish it were easier to process. “Women’s preferences have to be taken into account,” she said. I couldn’t agree more.

Keep in mind, none of the genetics research I saw changes the basics of plant sex. Breeders in the field still have to move pollen from one plant to another, as they have for ages. We’re just getting a lot smarter about helping them pick the best partners. And the result will be phenomenal—a much faster path to more-productive crops so that millions of people can eat better food, earn more money, and improve their lives.

Working to support the effort to rid the world of polio has taken me to some exotic places. But earlier this month, it took me to Washington, DC (I suppose you could argue this is also quite an unusual spot) to talk with policy makers about the historic opportunity we have to end polio forever. 

My conversations with lawmakers gave me a chance to discuss some of the doubts people have expressed about whether we can really do this. But it also provided the opportunity to bring lawmakers up-to-speed on the results of important changes in the Global Polio Eradication Initiative’s (GPEI) approach—including cool new technology being used and the increased engagement on the part of governments in the countries where polio transmission continues.

In my opinion, the changes and progress in 2012 have made for the most convincing case yet that ending polio is possible—and is one of the most concrete accomplishments possible for global health.

For more than 10 years, we have been 99 percent of the way toward ridding the world of polio. Since then, every few years the global community would vow that year would be the year when polio transmission would stop.

However, 2012 is notably different from the earlier stagnation in progress. And while the global program hasn’t stopped transmission of the wild polio virus everywhere as some had predicted, it did close a big gap in that last one percent when India became polio-free early in the year after a long and hard battle to protect more than 172 million children under the age of five from polio. This was incredible tough terrain in which to run thousands, if not tens of thousands of vaccination campaigns. So, the lessons learned from India’s success are serving as a great guide for what’s needed in the remaining three countries where polio transmission persists—Nigeria, Pakistan and Afghanistan.

There’s no doubt that these countries aren’t easy places to get rid of the disease. There are a number of factors that need to be in place including improved campaign quality, meeting the program’s global funding needs, and anticipating political challenges. 

I heard from U.S. lawmakers that the news regularly coming out of Afghanistan and Pakistan has led to reasonable concerns about the role insecurity plays in being able to reach children with vaccines. But in the last 11 months, incredible efforts are being made in these two countries by government officials, religious and community leaders and non-government organizations to negotiate access to children in hard-to-reach places. 

And those efforts are paying off. 

The polio program has been partnering with a number of NGOs to conduct negotiations to secure access to children, leading to breakthroughs in the past few months. In Afghanistan, the average number of inaccessible children in thirteen of the highest risk districts of the country has been reduced by more than half, from nine percent in June 2012 to 3.4 percent this November. And in the Terah Valley in Pakistan, where children hadn’t received vaccines in three years, approximately 30,000 children were reached with the polio and other critical vaccines during a vaccination campaign earlier this fall.

On the other front, in Nigeria, while cases have actually gone up this year, there is a full-scale effort to revamp the program, with many changes based on what vaccinators in India implemented to great success. Included in these changes are decreases in the size of vaccination teams and the addition of female vaccinators, tracking of nomadic populations, rigorous microplanning and scaling up of additional staff to help with all of these activities. 

Another major innovation that is leading to early reports of impressive progress is the work on GIS mapping and GPS tracking to improve polio campaign planning and performance.  (It’s a really ingenious use of the technology that you can learn more about here.) GPEI’s focus on using the polio program to increase routine immunization is ensuring that the polio program has an even broader long-term impact on the population.

The Independent Monitoring Board of the GPEI also notes the positive changes in a report released last week and their conclusion that the GPEI “has never been in a stronger position” reflects what I’m seeing too.  Their assessment about what comes next for the history books is telling: “The time is momentous for public health history. A final concerted effort could indeed mean writing the story of polio’s last stand.” 

I couldn’t agree more.