I’ve been following the fight against polio almost daily for more than two decades, ever since I got involved in the global coalition to eradicate it. But polio hardly ever makes headlines anymore, and most people are understandably not as focused on it as I am. So with World Polio Day coming up on Saturday, I want to give a quick update on how things are going.

Thanks to the world’s efforts—led by national governments with support from the Global Polio Eradication Initiative, which is a coalition of Rotary International, WHO, UNICEF, the United States CDC, the Gates Foundation, and the vaccine alliance known as Gavi—polio cases are down by 99 percent since 1988, and the virus is endemic in just two countries.

One of them, Pakistan, is making major progress. Thanks to continued vaccination programs and strong leadership from the government, the number of children newly paralyzed by polio there dropped from 74 in 2024 to 31 in 2025 and just 7 so far this year. I think it is possible to get to zero if we keep up this momentum.

In Afghanistan, unfortunately, polio cases have increased this year compared with last year. But the program is taking steps to do a better job getting the vaccine to all children, especially in the South region of the country. And it’s finding new ways to work with community leaders to hear from families who have doubts about vaccinations and to address their concerns.

Some encouraging news is coming out of Africa. Five variant polio outbreaks on the continent have been closed, interrupting transmission of the virus in those countries. It’s a testament to phenomenal work by governments at every level, local health workers, and the polio eradication initiative.

However, there continue to be outbreaks of variant polio in especially fragile settings. Humanitarian crises, weather-related disasters, and resource constraints are making it harder to vaccinate children. As global immunization rates remain low, the risk that the disease will spread internationally—even to places that have long been free of polio—is high. 

India and South Asia have now been free of wild poliovirus for 15 years. This region, which is home to a quarter of the world’s population, recorded its last case of wild poliovirus in 2011. Staying polio-free since then is a huge accomplishment in itself. But countries in the region are also building on infrastructure and lessons from the polio program to expand people’s access to other public health services.

An affordable six-in-one vaccine is making it easier to protect children in low-income countries. In most low- and middle-income countries, children get their polio vaccines in two ways: orally, via a few drops in their mouth, and by injection. The injectable vaccines require two shots, the second one weeks or months after infants have received all their other routine shots. Many families don’t come back for this second visit, which means those children aren’t fully protected.

The six-in-one vaccine incorporates polio protection into the vaccines that children already get routinely, reducing the need for another injection later. When a baby gets the shots that protect them from whooping cough, tetanus, and so on, they’re also getting protection against polio.

Six-in-one vaccines aren’t new; they have been used in wealthier countries for years. The breakthrough was to develop one that’s affordable for low-income countries. Thanks to support from Gavi, Senegal and Mauritania are already using it, and Pakistan just approved its use last month.

I wish there were better news to share about funding. Even some of the most generous partners have cut back on their giving. GPEI, the eradication initiative I mentioned earlier, had to cut its budget by 30 percent this year. I am grateful to the donors who have stayed committed and to new donors who have made significant contributions in recent years. These include the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, the European Investment Bank, Qatar, Australia, Canada, Monaco, and the United States.

This has accelerated a process that was already under way: lower-income countries taking more ownership of the program. For example, in the past 18 months, three more labs in Africa have been certified to do genomic sequencing of poliovirus samples. If the virus is detected somewhere on the continent, a sample can be sent to one of these labs, where scientists study its genome to figure out where it came from. The plan is to keep expanding capacity in Africa, further reducing the need to send samples overseas.

Unfortunately, none of this makes up completely for the funding shortfall. Around the world, leaders of polio programs are making painful tradeoffs. If this shortfall continues, we could lose decades of progress and see polio return everywhere. I’ll continue to do my part, supporting the work through the Gates Foundation and using my voice to raise awareness.

This is a winnable fight. It is giving us a blueprint for eradicating other diseases, including malaria. It has also created a global network of labs and experts that has alerted public health officials to outbreaks of cholera, measles, Ebola, and COVID-19 at the height of that pandemic.

But for me, what it comes down to is that we should eradicate polio because it is entirely preventable. There is no reason any child should ever be paralyzed by it again. That’s why I’m proud to be part of the global partnership that is committed to getting rid of it forever.

When Ramesh Ferris speaks in public, which he does a lot, he has an unusual way of getting to the stage. He crawls across the floor.

Ramesh was paralyzed by polio when he was six months old. Today, at age 46, he can walk with crutches and leg braces, but as an advocate for polio eradication, sometimes he chooses not to. He wants his audience to see what the disease does to the human body.

“I’m the voice of the polio survivors that I’ve met crawling in the streets of their communities,” he says. “Showing my legs is the most powerful tool I can use to educate people about the reality of what happens when kids don’t receive the polio vaccine.”

Ramesh contracted polio in 1980, when he was six months old. The first polio vaccine had been invented 25 years earlier, and millions of children had received it, but it still hadn’t reached low-income communities like the one in the state of Tamil Nadu, India, where he was born.

His birth mother had never heard of the disease, much less a vaccine for it. She just knew that her boy kept getting sick, and she couldn’t afford medical care for him, so she made what must have been an agonizing decision. She put him in the care of an orphanage in her community.

A year later, Ramesh was adopted by a Canadian couple who raised him and five other adopted children in the Yukon. Life was hard at times—kids at school mocked and bullied him—but he got expert medical care. Through three surgeries, doctors straightened his legs, and after intensive physical therapy, he learned to walk with crutches and braces.

When Ramesh was 22, he took a trip that changed his life. He went to India to meet his birth mother for the first time, so he could tell her how grateful he was that she had sacrificed so much so he could get the care he needed.

On the same trip, he had another powerful emotional moment. “I saw a fellow human being that had polio because he didn’t receive the polio vaccine as a child,” Ramesh says. “He was crawling around the streets as a beggar.” The person he was traveling with told him: “You’re looking at your life if you weren’t adopted.”

Since that time, Ramesh has been traveling around the world as a volunteer with Rotary International to spread the word about how much progress the world has made and the work that still remains. He’s raised awareness and funds with eye-catching campaigns including a 7,140 km trip across Canada… by hand bike.

We’re close to eradicating the disease—there were 52 cases of wild poliovirus in 2025, down from 350,000 in 1988—but finishing the job is a tough challenge that takes continued funding and effort.

People like Ramesh remind us not only how we can do it, but why we should.

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.

Earlier this year, I made my first trip ever to Pakistan to learn more about the country’s incredible efforts to wipe out polio.

At the time of my visit in February, Pakistan had gone more than a year without a single child being paralyzed by the crippling disease. This was a huge achievement made possible by the skill and dedication of the polio program’s leadership and its more than 300,000 polio workers. Their energy and enthusiasm reminded me of what I saw in India and Nigeria when those countries were traveling the final mile to eliminate polio within their borders.

But the last mile is often the toughest. The gains made against this highly contagious disease are often fragile.

In recent weeks, the world received a sobering reminder of this fact when three new cases of wild poliovirus were detected in Pakistan: 12 and 15-month-old boys, and a two-year-old girl all living in the same district in Khyber Pukhtunkhwa Province, Pakistan, near the border with Afghanistan. (Pakistan and Afghanistan are the only two countries where the wild poliovirus has not been eliminated.) 

It is heartbreaking to see these three children paralyzed by a preventable virus that has been eliminated in nearly every part of the world. (The government of Pakistan is providing rehabilitation services and other support to help the children and their families.)

At the same time, the emergence of these new cases was not entirely unexpected given the challenges of wiping out the virus in one of the most challenging places on Earth. The border region between Pakistan and Afghanistan, where the cases were detected, struggles with insecurity and misinformation that can sometimes prevent vaccinators from reaching every child who needs the polio vaccine.

When I learned about the new cases, I was disappointed. But I was also heartened by the response of Pakistan’s polio program. Despite having every reason to be frustrated, Dr. Shahzad Baig, who runs Pakistan’s National Emergency Operations Center for polio, said his team was not deterred. “This strengthens our resolve to reach every child with the polio vaccine,” he said.

After what I saw during my visit to Pakistan, I shouldn’t have been surprised by the team’s unfailing confidence. The polio workers are driven and detail oriented. They understand that running effective polio vaccination drives is not about getting one thing right. It’s about getting everything right that’s necessary to ensure all children get vaccinated.

In Pakistan, that has meant training 300,000 frontline workers who walk from house to house to vaccinate over 43 million children under the age of five; creating detailed maps for those teams to use to ensure no child is missed; running public information campaigns to inform communities about the risks of polio and the benefits of vaccination; organizing security to protect vaccinators; and building strong supply chains so vaccines are available across the country.

In between vaccination drives, Pakistan’s polio surveillance workers are constantly hunting for signs of acute flaccid paralysis in children and testing the environment for the presence of the virus.  Pakistan currently has the largest environmental surveillance network in the world. From tiny villages to larger cities and urban areas, Pakistan’s system has the capacity to find the poliovirus wherever it exists.

The nerve center for all this work is the National Polio Emergency Operations Center, which was a highlight of my visit. A wall of screens in a control room displayed real-time information about vaccinations, security, and supplies, as well as detailed maps following the movements of polio workers. This data helps the team see where they need to make improvements to the vaccination programs to ensure they reach all the children. You probably know I have an insatiable appetite for data, especially health data. So, it should be no surprise I lingered here for longer than planned to look at all the information and learn from the polio experts who are as passionate about data as I am.

What was also remarkable to see is how Pakistan has continued to build community support for its polio activities by integrating them with other essential health programs, like routine immunization programs. During the pandemic, polio workers used their deep knowledge of local communities to reach out to families to raise awareness of COVID-19, teach them how to protect themselves with handwashing and mask wearing, and encourage people to get vaccinated.

Polio workers constantly battle rumors and misinformation about the polio vaccines. But by engaging openly with the public’s questions they’re making headway against this challenge.

I got a glimpse of part of this effort at a national immunization call center where doctors and other health workers respond to tens of thousands of queries every month from the public about immunization, including polio. If families hear a rumor about the polio vaccine, they can call for free and ask about it. Pakistan has reduced the number of vaccine refusals and I believe that the work of this call center is one of the key reasons why. The call center was set up to support polio inquiries, but due to the success of the program, the call center expanded its services to answer questions about COVID-19 vaccines and all other vaccines.

Pakistan’s polio effort also benefits from the strong support it receives from the very top of its government. I recently had an opportunity to speak with Pakistan’s new Prime Minister, Shehbaz Sharif, and it was clear that his administration is actively engaged in stopping transmission for good.

Even with the three new polio cases in Pakistan, the virus is still circulating at very low levels and the world has an historic opportunity to make sure this virus never paralyzes a child again. The fact is, we’ve never been closer to ending polio and it’s critical that the world doesn’t lose sight of this goal.

The last mile to end polio, of course, will be challenging. And that’s why it’s important that the world keep up its support for the polio programs in Pakistan and Afghanistan, so they don’t travel it alone.

I look forward to keeping you posted on their progress in the months ahead.

The world is so close to ending polio.

Since the start of the global eradication effort in 1988, the number of polio cases worldwide has fallen 99.9 percent.

19 million people who would have otherwise been paralyzed are now walking today because of vaccines. And 1.5 million people are alive who would have otherwise died from the disease.

Much of the credit for this progress goes to the thousands of polio workers who have gone door to door vaccinating more than 3 billion children over the last 33 years.

October 24 is World Polio Day and to mark the occasion I’d like to share the story of one of these dedicated polio fighters.

Her name is Shumaila Rehmani.

Shumaila is a polio vaccinator in Pakistan, which is one of the two countries in the world—the other is Afghanistan—where the wild poliovirus is still endemic.

Shumaila’s job is to deliver the polio vaccine to every child under age five in the community she serves. While that probably sounds like a straightforward job, what it takes to get it done is not. Reaching every child requires hard work, meticulous planning, and patience.

During polio immunization drives in Pakistan, Shumaila sets out on foot early in the morning with a cooler filled with vaccines and a detailed plan for all the homes she needs to visit. Then she begins knocking on doors to give the oral polio vaccine drops to every child.

The overwhelming majority of families she visits want their children to be vaccinated. Some parents, however, out of fear or a lack of information, refuse to have their children vaccinated.

But Shumaila doesn’t give up.

She talks with the mothers and fathers, answering all their questions about polio and reassuring them that the vaccine is safe and effective. She also works with community and religious leaders to speak with families about the importance of vaccination.

Progress can be slow. In the community she serves, Shumaila says this year she initially had more than 250 families refuse vaccinations. But today, because of her efforts to work closely with the families, all but four of them have had their children vaccinated. And she continues to talk with those families to encourage them to get vaccinated.

And thanks to the thousands of dedicated health workers like Shumaila and the leadership of Prime Minister of Pakistan Imran Khan, there’s been just one case of wild polio in Pakistan so far this year, compared with 84 in 2020.

While the incredible efforts of Shumaila and other polio fighters have brought us to the brink of a polio-free world, COVID-19 has created new challenges. The pandemic has disrupted polio campaigns and routine immunizations in many parts of the world, causing outbreaks of other forms of polio to crop up in Africa and Asia.

That’s why the global polio program adapted its approach to help contain the spread of COVID-19 while also working to end polio. The Global Polio Eradication Initiative used its workforce and laboratory and disease surveillance network to respond to the pandemic, investigating suspected COVID cases, coordinating response operations, and training health care workers. In Pakistan, the national polio team now operates a toll-free number for anyone who wants to speak with a doctor about COVID, polio, or get any questions answered about routine immunization. They have received more than 17 million calls during the pandemic.

Like other polio workers, Shumaila has used her community relationships to raise awareness of COVID, teach families how to stay safe, and provide handwashing and hygiene lessons. This has made for longer days, but Shumaila says it’s easy to stay motivated. As a mother of three children herself, she is driven by her dream of a day when polio will no longer be a threat to her children or any child in Pakistan.

It’s a day she knows will come soon, she says. Again and again since the start of the global polio eradication effort, one country after the next has eliminated this crippling disease from within their borders. Less than a decade ago, for example, Nigeria accounted for more than half of all wild polio cases worldwide. But last year, Nigeria, along with the 47 countries in the African region, were certified free of the wild poliovirus.

With Afghanistan recently announcing it would conduct a nationwide polio campaign in November—the first in over three years to reach all children in the country—and Pakistan’s continued commitment to eradication, the final two polio endemic countries will hopefully soon follow others on the path to ending wild polio.  

“If other countries can be polio free, why can’t Pakistan be?” Shumaila asks.

During my entire life I’ve only had two jobs. In the first one, I played a role in developing software to empower people through my work at Microsoft.

In my second one, which I started full time in 2008, I am giving back the wealth I made at Microsoft with the goal of making the world a healthier, better educated, and more equitable place. This is the job I will have for the rest of my life.

Both of these experiences inform my perspective on artificial intelligence. When I first learned about computers at age 13 I was fascinated by the idea of making them more intelligent and able to perform things that, at the time, only humans could do. Although the term “AI” was used from around the time I was born, the technology has only made significant progress in the last decade. It is now incredibly capable and it is continuing to improve at a mind-blowing rate. AI for the first time can replace and even exceed human cognition.

In terms of equity, AI will either be the greatest equalizer ever invented, or the worst source of injustice. The challenge is monumental. Even under the best circumstances, the transition to this new AI era will be one of the most turbulent times in human history. How will we use this technology to make the world a fairer place and keep it from widening the divide between rich and poor? How will we protect the people who are most vulnerable to the harms caused by artificial intelligence, including those who lose their livelihoods and the sense that they are in control of their future?

I believe that answering these questions and acting on the answers should be the world’s top priority. If the world takes the right steps AI will be a force for good and leave everyone better off.

Unfortunately, right now we are not preparing for it. I don’t see evidence that leaders, experts, and communities are confronting the challenges adequately. There is no plan to ease the entry into the AI era.

Part of the reason for this is that many commentators underestimate the extent of the impact AI will have. I think there are a few reasons why.

One is the fact that AI models still make mistakes. It is hard to envision any of them replacing human cognition when, not long ago, they couldn’t solve a simple Sudoku puzzle or figure out how many R’s are in the word strawberry.

But the reliability problem is being fixed quickly, as researchers create models that can check their own work and improve themselves. Soon they will be substantially better than humans at many tasks.

Another reason people underestimate AI is that analogies to the effects of past innovations are misleading. We have no experience with a technology that can be adopted quickly or that can think and move like a human. When the PC came along, it took twenty years to significantly change how we worked because the software had to be developed, the price had to come down, and people had to learn how to use the tools and incorporate them into their business processes. AI, on the other hand, runs on the devices we already have, and it uses natural language. We don’t have to adapt to it because it can adapt to us. It can watch the same training video that is used to train human workers and learn from existing data.

I want to acknowledge a potential bias. I have benefited enormously from the technology industry. Although I have diversified my portfolio quite a bit, I still have financial ties to it. I am working with Microsoft and other AI companies in my role as chairman of the Gates Foundation to try and ensure AI is deployed in ways that will truly benefit people around the world.

However, my views on AI are not motivated by the potential to make money for myself. Any profits generated by my investments, including those related to technology, will go to the Gates Foundation to tackle global inequity. Of course, readers will have to decide for themselves whether this clouds my view.

This time really is different.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wished innovation could happen faster. With AI, my feelings are more complicated.

I wish the world could get the benefits rapidly and delay the problems it will cause as long as possible, but the benefits and problems are arriving at the same time. I believe we need time to prepare for the period of social, political, and economic upheaval we are about to enter. The people who need the most time are the ones who have the least—the accounting worker who’s replaced by a bot or the $20-an-hour worker who loses their job to a $10-an-hour robot.

Many observers say that this technology transition will be like previous ones. They give the example of how jobs in the United States shifted from agriculture to office work. However, that proceeded over several generations and created new jobs where human cognition was required. In this case, the technology can substitute for human cognition.

Because it can see, listen, speak, and reason and will eventually do physical work just as smoothly as any human, it will not just affect one sector. AI will take on work in law, customer service, medicine, software, and manufacturing. It will hit these industries rapidly, over the course of a decade rather than a few generations. There will be some new jobs, but without the right policies there will be far fewer than exist today.

If someone had a credible plan for slowing down AI advances globally, I would likely support it. However, I don’t think that’s going to happen. The geopolitical and economic incentives are pushing too hard to go full speed ahead.

To make sure we maximize the positive effects of this unprecedented technology and minimize the bad so we are better off overall, we need to understand both the benefits and the risks. I’ll start with the risks.

The transition to AI comes with three big risks.

I plan to write about each of these in more detail in the future, so I’ll touch briefly on them for now.

Many jobs will disappear forever.

In 1933, during the Great Depression, unemployment in the United States was roughly 25 percent. It remained in double digits for much of the following decade. It ultimately recovered as demand, investment, and growth returned.

AI may not reach this level, but its impact will not go away with an economic cycle. The jobs at most risk are entry- and mid-level, and the new jobs being created will mostly require skills that take many years to learn.

White-collar jobs are already being hit modestly. After the widespread adoption of generative AI, employment fell significantly among young workers in jobs that are especially vulnerable to replacement, but not among their older colleagues.

I think this trend will continue, but it will not be confined to a handful of industries or occupations. Jobs in sales and customer support (online and over the phone), software engineering, and paralegal work may be among the first affected, but the disruption will reach much further as AI takes on tasks that today still require trained workers: things like assessing loan applications, doing data analysis, and even triaging patients. A few areas like software engineering will generate new demand as the costs go down, so the net job loss in those areas will be less than in others as long as some tasks, such as design, are better done by humans.

Blue-collar jobs will be affected as well. Although robots are not as far along as AI, eventually their cost will be dramatically lower too. Many Americans I talk to don’t realize how fast dexterous robots are advancing because much of the advanced work is being done in other countries, primarily China. Or they may be confused by those videos of robots dancing badly that have been going viral lately. I think “smart” robots will begin to compete with people on some physical tasks—in the construction and hospitality industries, for example—by the end of the decade.

Robots and AI combined can create a vicious cycle. After one company adopts them and uses the savings to lower its prices, its competitors will feel immense pressure to do the same. If existing companies don’t adopt them, then start-ups will. Many people will shift to other jobs, but the turmoil of losing work, getting retrained, and finding other work will be significant. Market forces will make adoption go faster and faster and, unless we intervene, there will be fewer good jobs available and the benefits will accrue to a small group.

I’m especially worried about young people, who will enter a workforce with fewer entry-level openings. They understand the challenge because they are the most active users of AI and see both the capabilities and the rate of improvement. It’s no wonder that so many of them feel negatively about AI.

The biggest shift for workers will happen when AI provides nearly error-free work. At that point, it will be able to function on its own without a human checking in on it, and companies will have every economic incentive to let it.

This will lead to a fundamental change in how we think about work, income, and economic security. How will an economy that’s been built around employment operate if fewer people are working, or if many people are working fewer hours?

In a capitalist society, employment is the way most people get the money they need to pay for the basics of life as well as being a key source of dignity and social connection.

When a community has high unemployment, the ripple effects can be pervasive. Research suggests that in some parts of the United States, factory closures contribute to a rise in deaths from opioid overdoses. Now imagine similar pressures on both white-collar and blue-collar workers nationwide.

We have to think now about how to reduce job losses so that everyone can share in the prosperity that AI creates. Waiting until people are already displaced or underemployed will be too late. AI is a structural challenge to the way our economy is organized, and it requires thinking and action now.

AI will empower people (and perhaps AIs) to do more harm.

Long before AI entered the mainstream, there was information online about how to create weapons like bombs, bioweapons, even computer viruses. AI will make it much easier to not only get this information but act on it. Even criminals with very limited skills will be able to target victims at every scale: individuals, companies, and governments.

AI-enabled fraud, disinformation, deepfakes, and surveillance are the harms that many people will feel most keenly in their everyday lives.

AI capabilities are starting to be used for cyberattacks. The smartest cybersecurity experts I know are scared about the next few years, because the attackers are getting powerful new capabilities faster than the defenders can fix all the weaknesses. After all, the same AI model that can find a flaw in software so a company can fix it can also help a criminal exploit it. The resources needed to make an attack are going down significantly and we haven’t been able to separate those abilities from benign usage.

Think about the infrastructure that will be vulnerable: hospitals, financial institutions, water systems, power grids, systems for managing government benefits. When these institutions are attacked, it’s the patients, customers, and benefits recipients who stand to lose.

The same goes for bioterrorism. Although AI will lead to lifesaving advances in drugs and vaccines, it will also make it easier to design a deadly new disease. Again, the positive capabilities are hard to separate from the dangerous ones. This is a global problem.

The risks I’ve just mentioned are all about how AI will empower bad actors who have relatively little power now. The same tools will also concentrate power in places where it already exists. Autonomous weapons, for example, will make governments even more capable of using deadly force without a human being part of the decision. Monitoring and manipulating public opinion will be easier and cheaper, and more effective too.

Eventually, the power to use AI to harm people will not be limited to people or institutions. AI systems themselves already occasionally act in ways their designers didn’t intend. The technology is improving faster than anyone expected and in surprising ways, and as the models become more powerful, they could begin to act against our interests and we could lose control. I’ll have more to say about this in the future.

AI could stunt our kids’ development and replace human relationships.

When I was growing up in Seattle, I didn’t have that many friends aside from a few other boys who were like me. It took hard work and a lot of help from my mom to develop my social skills so I could relate to different kinds of people. I still draw on those lessons today at the age of 70.

I doubt I would have put in the same work if I had had an AI companion back then. They talk to you in ways you’re already comfortable with. They don’t push you outside your comfort zone. They are always available and never get mad at you. This gives them the potential to become highly addictive and to rob us of the lessons we learn from connecting with other people.

The body of evidence on this subject is still small and a bit mixed, but there are signs that we should be very concerned. For example, in one study of more than 1,100 people who use AI companions, researchers at Stanford and Carnegie Mellon found that those with smaller social networks were the most likely to turn to a chatbot for companionship. And the heavier and more emotionally personal that use became, the worse they felt.

Young people could be affected for their entire lives. In his book The Anxious Generation, Jonathan Haidt makes an observation about the effect of social media that is even more true for AI: “Like young trees exposed to wind, children who are routinely exposed to small risks grow up to become adults who can handle much larger risks without panicking. Conversely, children who are raised in a protected greenhouse sometimes become incapacitated by anxiety before they reach maturity.”

An AI companion designed to never upset you is a big, protected greenhouse.

We are only beginning to understand the dangers that the internet—especially social media—can pose to young people’s development. We’re seeing compulsive use, disrupted sleep, cyberbullying, and exposure to harmful content. AI could magnify many of these risks by making them more persuasive and difficult to escape, and we should not wait another generation to start taking them seriously. Countries including Australia, the United Kingdom, and Norway are adopting protections for children online. China has gone the furthest. Its rules restrict AI companion apps broadly, bar designs that foster emotional dependence, and ban virtual relatives and romantic partners for minors.

I’m also worried about AI’s impact on education. Ironically, the same tool that will allow people to learn more than ever could also lead to many people learning less. One preliminary survey suggested that heavier AI use was associated with less critical thinking. The effect was stronger for younger people.

This would be the worst possible time for humans to lose their critical thinking skills. In an era of deepfakes and misinformation that can be tailored to you individually, the ability to tell what is true from what is not becomes an essential life skill.

It’s unclear where to draw the line on these psychosocial problems. In some cases, AI may help people understand how to do better in their human relationships. It may be the only contact with the outside world for isolated elderly people and people with limited mobility, and it will be better than nothing. Wherever we end up drawing the line, it should be our decision, made intentionally.

The good things we do with AI could be very, very good.

It’s often said that we overestimate how much will change in the short term and underestimate how much will change in the long term.

With AI, I see something different going on. Some people see only the upside of AI and do not focus enough on the negatives. Others make the opposite mistake, which is to focus exclusively on the dangers—which are real—at the cost of missing the potential benefits.

We need both: deep concern about the AI harms we need to minimize, and grounded optimism about the positives if we maximize them for everyone.

Maximizing the benefits is just as important as minimizing the harms. If people see how AI makes their lives easier, it will help build the public trust that is necessary for managing the harder parts of the transition. If the first thing AI does in most people’s lives is take away their job, those who are already skeptical about it will outright reject it. This will make it harder to ever deliver on the benefits and it is another reason why governments, industries including the medical industry, and AI companies should be working together now.

With its ability to synthesize knowledge from every scientific field, AI can accelerate innovation in the world’s toughest technical challenges: providing reliable clean energy for everyone, combating climate change, growing enough food, eradicating diseases, and more. Researchers working on cancer treatments or nuclear energy can use AI to search through massive amounts of scientific literature. It can help them identify patterns that a human might miss and decide which experiments offer the most promise. When intelligence is no longer the limiting factor that it is today, smaller companies will be able to compete with organizations that have far larger research budgets. R&D and innovation will be supercharged.

Healthcare is one area where AI can help solve real-world problems. Many small American hospitals lack on-site specialists who can quickly diagnose a patient during a life-threatening emergency. In those places, AI could make sure a heart attack is caught in time and a family avoids the crushing expense of a medical emergency. Viz.ai is one example. It analyzes scans to detect strokes and other emergencies and helps medical teams coordinate their patients’ care. It is being used in nearly 2,000 U.S. hospitals.

AI will also help primary-care doctors make better diagnoses and keep in touch with their patients when they’re not in the clinic. It will help patients understand test results and complicated schedules for taking their medicine.

I surprise a lot of people when I tell them that a second area—agriculture—is where I see the fastest impact of AI in low-income countries. In most low-income countries, farmers don’t get reliable weather forecasts or advice on what seeds to plant, how to protect their crops and livestock from disease, or how to improve their soil. With population growth in these countries and the challenges of climate change, these farmers need more help than ever. Using AI, low-income farmers will soon be able to get better advice about all these things than even the richest farmers get today and increase their output substantially.

Government services are a third area where AI can make people’s lives easier. In the United States, I’ve met families who, understandably, were overwhelmed by the process of applying for health insurance, student aid, or food assistance. Faced with a huge stack of complicated bureaucratic forms, many felt like giving up. AI can streamline things dramatically so they get the help they need faster and the government can operate more efficiently. Governments can make the citizen’s experience far better, starting with those who need its safety net services the most.

Despite my concerns about its impact on our mental health, I think AI can also help a lot there. Most communities have too few counselors, psychiatrists, and addiction specialists. With the right privacy safeguards in place, AI tools could help people recognize warning signs. Then, if needed, they can offer evidence-based coping strategies and team up with a human to provide more responsive treatment.

AI can be a boon for education as well, despite the concerns I mentioned earlier. It can free teachers up to spend more time working with students one on one or in small groups and give them a clearer view of where the whole class is struggling. For students, an AI tool that preserves what researchers call “productive struggle”—the cognitive work that builds understanding—can strengthen learning. When a student first encounters a new idea, the AI gives substantive explanations and offers both questions and answers. Later, when it’s checking their comprehension, it holds the answer back and helps them arrive at it on their own.

Taken together, the advances in all these areas could make everyday life easier, more affordable, and less constrained by a person’s income or connections.

AI could give individuals and small businesses access to capabilities that today require expensive professional help or large staffs, while making products and services better and cheaper. It could help people with disabilities live more independently and enable workers and entrepreneurs with good ideas to accomplish far more than they can today.

Most importantly, it could give people back some of the time and attention now consumed by paperwork, bureaucracy, searching for reliable information, and tasks they cannot afford to pay someone else to handle. These benefits may seem modest, but multiplied across millions of lives, they would be profound: more people getting good advice when they need it and having greater freedom to focus on the lives they want to build.

In all these areas, the operative word is “can”—AI can improve life for people at every income level. But it won’t do that automatically. As with any new technology, we have to be deliberate about ensuring that it benefits everyone and not just a wealthy few. This will require governments and philanthropy to play a strong role so that less wealthy citizens and low-income countries are full beneficiaries.

The Gates Foundation has 19 years left of the 20 years in which it will spend its remaining $200 billion. AI will help it achieve its ambitious goals by both accelerating the discovery of vaccines and medicines for HIV, TB, malaria, and malnutrition and helping the healthcare workforce and patients know how to use those tools. The foundation’s goals include cutting the number of children who die every year in half again, as was done from 2000 to 2024. All of our work, not just health but also agriculture and education, will take full advantage of AI.

I will write much more about these efforts next month in the foundation’s annual Goalkeepers report—including our focus on making sure that AI models are available in the languages spoken by people in all the countries where we support work, and not just the ones that are common in rich and middle-income countries. Many of the leading AI companies, including OpenAI, Anthropic, Google, and Microsoft, are partnering with the foundation on all of these initiatives, which is making a big difference.

The world needs a plan.

It is great that some AI companies are proposing solutions to challenges raised by their own technology, but we should not expect them to lead the charge. Some of the issues are outside their area of expertise, and in a democratic society it’s not their role to decide these things.

Instead, solutions should be developed through a public democratic process that includes elected officials, policymakers, educators, health workers, local officials, and community leaders. Millions of people will have their lives disrupted, and we’ll need a stronger, more flexible social safety net to help them manage the transition. Local communities are already raising concerns about the energy and water needed for data centers. Without solutions, some groups will push for stopping AI development and deployment altogether.

The solutions should be shaped by our answers to the profound questions raised by AI, including how we preserve our humanity in a time when machines can out-think us. As people who spend their lives thinking about what it means to be human, religious leaders can play a key role in this. I was fascinated by Pope Leo XIV’s encyclical on AI, “On Safeguarding the Human Person in the Time of Artificial Intelligence.” It lays a strong foundation for the work that needs to be done.

In the coming months, I will share more ideas for making sure that AI’s benefits outweigh the harm it causes. Here are three to start, beginning with what I think is the most important one.

Build a new system for managing the transition.

The highest priority is a monumental task: creating a domestic and international framework for dealing with AI.

None of our current institutions were designed to handle a technology that spreads so fast and touches so many parts of our lives. So we’ll need to make new ones.

It’s hard to overstate what an enormous undertaking this will be. After the attacks of 9/11, the U.S. government went through its biggest reorganization since World War II for the purpose of improving just one function, national security.

AI will require much, much more. It will affect national security as well as employment, education, taxation, energy, elections, air and water, public health, the financial system, law enforcement, transportation, public lands, and IT systems.

These sectors overlap in ways our existing bureaucracy is not designed to manage. A labor department may understand workforce disruption but not security risk. A business regulator may understand market concentration but not AI’s effects on children and teenagers. Left to themselves, institutions will see only one part of the system, while the consequences of AI will ripple across the entire system.

At the national level, countries will need bodies that can set priorities across government agencies. The goal will be to make sure that every risk is accounted for. Otherwise, an AI-enabled attack might succeed because no one thought it was their job to stop it.

But even a country that gets its own house in order will still be exposed to risks that cross borders. This is why an international organization will need to be built in parallel.

It will be unlike any other institution we have ever created, though it can follow the model of some existing systems. There’s an inspections regime for nuclear weapons, regulations for international aviation, and agreements that protect the ozone layer. A new global organization for AI will need elements of all three and more.

It is fair to wonder whether the world’s institutions are up to the task of designing and implementing this new architecture. Government moves slowly when it moves at all, and polarization within and between countries makes it harder than ever to get things done. Some cooperation between the U.S. and China will be required.

We do not have the luxury of moving slowly. The place to start is with a process for building the right institutions before the disruption forces governments into crisis mode. National leaders should convene economists, technologists, labor experts, business leaders, and workers themselves regularly to identify where existing institutions are failing and what new authorities may be needed. Countries will need to learn from each other.

And the countries that host the leading AI developers and control critical parts of the supply chain should begin meeting now to set up shared norms, before competitive pressure makes it harder for them to cooperate.

Building the framework I’m talking about will take years, which is why we need to start now.

Set aside some jobs for humans.

My dad died of Alzheimer’s in 2020. In the later stages of his illness, he was cared for day and night by paid caregivers who understood him even when he struggled to express himself. He couldn’t always tell them when he was hungry, but they always knew.

My family and I will always be grateful to that amazing group of professionals. Something in the care they gave my dad was irreplaceably human. No robot could or should have done it.

I think about that team when the question of which jobs will disappear and which will remain comes up. I believe that as AI and robots improve, we’ll set aside certain things for only people to do. I’ve started calling this domain Human Reserved, and it’s an example of the kinds of ideas we’ll need to consider.

I like the phrase Human Reserved because it makes me think of nature reserves—places where we could put buildings and roads, but we choose not to because the loss would be too great.

We might set something aside as Human Reserved for economic reasons. For example, we may do it because allowing machines to take over a certain role will displace a large number of people who can’t easily change jobs. You can’t tell a 55-year-old who has worked in construction their whole career that they need to go work at an elder care facility and expect them to find it fulfilling.

Sometimes the decision to make something Human Reserved will be driven by other factors. In health, for example, imagine a robot giving you the awful news that you have an incurable disease. There’s no technical reason why it couldn’t. Yet it shouldn’t.

The Human Reserved domain will evolve over time—for example, we should consider setting aside some jobs now and phasing in AI slowly over years or decades with a commitment to preserve some jobs. Some areas, like education and mental health care, will be a mix, with a human in charge who’s using the technology to extend what they can do.

The lines will also vary from place to place. Some countries might insist on having humans take care of the elderly. But a country like Japan, which has a shrinking workforce and not enough young people to care for the old, may welcome a caregiving robot.

The idea of Human Reserved raises a host of questions I don’t have answers to. Who gets to decide what we reserve for humans? What criteria should we use? How do you keep companies from cheating and using robots anyway? What happens to international trade when one country lets robots make something and another country doesn’t? These will need to be worked out in public as part of the transition plan.

Rebalance how we tax labor and capital.

As workers are pushed into different jobs, they will need retraining and other support from the social safety net. But they will be working less, which means they will be paying less in income taxes, and government revenues will drop just when the demand for those services is greatest. The funds will have to come from somewhere at a time when budgets are stretched.

I believe we should tax AI tokens and robots. Right now, if you’re an employer and you hire someone, you pay payroll taxes on their earnings. But if you buy a robot, you can usually write it off right away as a business expense. The tax system nudges you toward replacing people with machines.

A tax would slow the rush away from human labor a little and raise money for retraining and a stronger safety net. It would need to be targeted so it does not slow down the purely beneficial uses of AI, like making medicine and education cheaper.

Critics of this idea point out that it’s not optimally efficient in an economic sense, but they’re not considering the broader value of work for individuals and society. And with all the accelerated innovation we will have, we’ll be able to afford a little inefficiency as the price for keeping people employed.

I proposed a robot tax years ago and most of the reaction was that it was a strange idea. I’m still a big proponent of it. Although it is not the whole solution to the threat of AI, it is part of a wise response.

However we raise money for more assistance, it needs to reach the people who need it most, including workers who lose their jobs to AI and robots, people whose hours or wages decline, and communities where the losses are concentrated. We need to start doing that work now so that the systems are ready when the need becomes acute.

What I’m doing.

I will use my voice and time to get AI and equity higher on the public agenda. I will raise the issue with lawmakers every time I visit Washington, D.C., and when I meet with leaders around the world. It will be front and center in my conversations with the people who are developing AI models. I will advocate for the national and international framework I described earlier. The Gates Foundation will help drive beneficial usage, including in Africa. Breakthrough Energy, a company I founded, will use AI to help companies develop cheap clean energy and help solve the climate problem. I will also be writing about AI on a regular basis.

My message to leaders is:

You have a chance to act now, before unemployment rises sharply, communities are hurting, and public trust has eroded. You can make sure that your government handles the problem holistically, rather than divvying it up into multiple bureaucratic fiefdoms. You can make sure AI benefits everyone. And you can work with other governments to meet this national and global challenge.

Finally, I will try to widen the circle of people shaping this debate. It should include workers, college students who are about to enter the workforce, community leaders, religious leaders and faith-based organizations, parents, educators, and others whose voices often aren’t heard but who have insight into how the transition will affect people’s lives.

How do we ensure that the benefits of AI reach people who do not already have wealth, influence, and access?

How do we strengthen the social safety net and help workers and communities thrive even when they’re displaced?

How should public institutions adapt?

And how do we preserve our humanity through all of this?

This unprecedented technology demands an unprecedented global response. If we get it right, the payoff for humanity will be phenomenal and the world will be a more equitable place.

I rarely stop thinking about AI—not because I have all the answers, but because the questions it raises are too consequential to leave to a small group of technologists. Leaders across academia, business, government, and civil society all have a role to play in shaping what comes next.

A core principle underlying the Gates Foundation’s work is closing the innovation gap between rich countries and everyone else. People in poorer parts of the world shouldn’t have to wait decades for new technologies to reach them. That’s why we've worked for 25 years to accelerate access to life-saving medicines and vaccines in low- and middle-income countries.

It's also why, today, the Gates Foundation and OpenAI are announcing an initiative called Horizon 1000 to support several countries in Africa, starting in Rwanda, as they apply AI technology to improve their health care systems.

Over the next few years, we will collaborate with leaders in African countries as they pioneer the deployment of AI in health. Together, the Gates Foundation and OpenAI are committing $50 million in funding, technology, and technical support to back their work. The goal is to reach 1,000 primary healthcare clinics and their surrounding communities by 2028.

Today’s AI can help save lives

A few years ago, I wrote that the rise of artificial intelligence would mark a technological revolution as far-reaching for humanity as microprocessors, PCs, mobile phones, and the Internet. Everything I’ve seen since then confirms my view that we are on the cusp of a breathtaking global transformation.

All over the world, AI, in the form of LLMs and machine learning models, are improving far more quickly than I first anticipated. From science to education to customer service and more, AI tools are reshaping every facet of our lives.

I spend a lot of time thinking about how AI can help us address fundamental challenges like poverty, hunger, and disease. One issue that I keep coming back to is making great health care accessible to all—and that’s why we’re partnering with OpenAI and African leaders and innovators on Horizon 1000.

Not enough doctors in the house

We have seen amazing successes in global health over the past 25 years: child mortality has been cut in half, and there are now real pathways to eliminating or controlling deadly diseases like polio, malaria, TB, and HIV. But one stubborn problem that keeps slowing progress is the desperate shortage of health care workers in poorer parts of the world.

In Sub-Saharan Africa, which suffers from the world’s highest child mortality rate, there is a shortfall of nearly 6 million health care workers, a gap so large that even the most aggressive hiring and training efforts can’t close it in the foreseeable future.

These huge shortages put health care workers in these countries in an impossible situation. They’re forced to triage too many patients with too little administrative support, modern technology, and up-to-date clinical guidance. Partly as a result, the WHO estimates that low-quality care is a contributing factor in 6 to 8 million deaths in low- and middle-income countries every year, and that’s not even counting the millions who die because they aren’t able to access health care at all.

Rwanda leads the way

Today’s AI can help save those lives by reaching many more people with much higher-quality care.

Rwanda currently has only one health care worker per 1,000 people, far below the WHO recommendation of about four per 1,000. It would take 180 years for that gap to close at the current pace of progress. So, as part of the 4x4 reform initiative, Minister of Health Dr. Sabin Nsanzimana recently announced the launch of an AI-powered Health Intelligence Center in Kigali to help ensure limited health care resources are being used as wisely as possible.

As part of the Horizon 1000 initiative, we aim to accelerate the adoption of AI tools across primary care clinics, within communities, and in people’s homes. These AI tools will support health workers, not replace them.

On the horizon

Minister Nsanzimana has called AI the third major discovery to transform medicine, after vaccines and antibiotics, and I agree with his point of view. 

If you live in a wealthier country and have seen a doctor recently, you may have already seen how AI is making life easier for health care workers. Instead of taking notes constantly, they can now spend more time talking directly to you about your health, while AI transcribes and summarizes the visit. Afterwards, AI can handle much of the onerous paperwork, so doctors and nurses can focus on the next patient.

In poorer countries with enormous health worker shortages and lack of health systems infrastructure, AI can be a gamechanger in expanding access to quality care. I believe this partnership with OpenAI, governments, innovators, and health workers in sub-Saharan Africa is a step towards the type of AI we need more of: systems that help people all over the world to solve generational challenges that they simply didn’t know how to address before. I invite others working on AI to think about how we can put these massively powerful tools to the best use.

This announcement is a great example of why I remain optimistic about the improvements we can make. I’m looking forward to seeing health workers using some of these AI solutions in action when I visit Africa, and I plan to continue focusing on ways AI technology can help billions of people in low- and middle-income countries meet their most important needs.

What do humans and cows have in common? Among other things, we’re both victims of tiny insects.

For cows, the latest culprit is the New World screwworm. Despite the name, the screwworm is actually a type of fly that likes to lay its eggs on animals like cows, which creates an often-fatal wound on the animal’s hide. Screwworms once killed up to one million cattle a year here in the United States, and sixty years after we eliminated them in our country, they’re back.

For humans, one of our greatest nemesis is the mosquito. There are plenty of reasons to hate mosquitoes, but malaria is easily at the top of the list. The disease kills more than 600,000 people every year, most of them children, and it’s transmitted when a mosquito infected with a parasite called Plasmodium bites you.

Protecting people (or cattle) from an insect poses an interesting challenge. How do you stop something so small from hurting anyone? There are lots of different ways to approach the problem.

One approach is to keep insects out of the places where people are. There are already lots of tools that do this with mosquitoes, with more in the pipeline. The most widely used is the bed net, a gauzy sheet of fabric treated with an insecticide that kills any mosquito that tries to reach the person sleeping under it.

Bed nets are magical. In some places where malaria is endemic in Africa, they’ve reduced the number of children who die before the age of 5 by 20 percent. But there’s a problem: Mosquitoes can develop resistance to the insecticide used in bed nets, just like bacteria can evolve resistance to antibiotics.

Enter the dual active ingredient bed net. (You’ll often see them referred to as dual AI nets, even though they have nothing to do with artificial intelligence.) By treating bed nets with two different insecticides, scientists have been able to figure out how to negate a mosquito’s resistance and keep people safe. The catch is that dual AI nets are more expensive than regular bed nets, which is why the Global Fund and the Gates Foundation stepped in to make them affordable for the countries that needed them most. The results so far have exceeded my expectations. Dual AI nets now make up more than half of the bed nets used, just two years after they became available.

Bed nets have another flaw: They only protect you while you’re under them, even though mosquitoes are also active in the hours before you go to sleep and after you wake up. A new tool called a spatial emanator aims to bridge that gap. It basically works like a plug-in air freshener—but instead of releasing a nice fragrance, it slowly releases an insecticide at a low-enough dose that doesn’t harm people but drives away any mosquito that might enter your home.

When spatial emanators received the green light for use a year ago, they became the first new malaria-prevention tool the WHO has recommended in over a decade. I’m super excited about their ability to protect people from mosquitoes for more hours of the day.

Another approach to stopping insects is to target them at the population level. That’s how the world stopped screwworm the first time. In 1954, scientists figured out a way to use radiation to make the males sterile. They released the neutered insects into the target area, and since they couldn’t reproduce, the population died off. This approach worked sixty years ago, and it still works today (and scientists are working on even more effective methods).

What if we could use a similar approach to stop mosquitoes? Last year, I wrote about an incredible project in Tanzania called Transmission Zero. The idea behind it is simple: a mosquito that can’t give you malaria.

Tanzanian scientists have found a way to make Anopheles gambiae mosquitoes—the species responsible for most of the malaria in Africa—produce two types of molecules, naturally found in frogs and bees, that block the parasite from developing inside the insect. The mosquitoes would continue flying around, doing their mosquito business, but they wouldn’t be able to make anyone sick with malaria. Each time they mated with another mosquito, they would pass on the gene that protected them from the parasite. (I just published a new profile of Dr. Lina Finda from the Ifakara Health Institute in Tanzania, who is helping lead this work.)

These malaria-free mosquitoes could potentially help save tens of thousands of lives every year. And Tanzania isn’t the only country on the cutting edge of advancing this work. The Ugandan Virus Research Institute and the University of Sciences, Techniques and Technologies of Bamako in Mali are also doing pioneering work to move the field forward. Scientists are learning more every day about the role mosquitoes play in ecosystems, and research is now underway on two other species beyond Anopheles gambiae.

Dual AI bed nets, spatial emanators, and malaria-free mosquitoes are just the latest breakthroughs to come out of the robust malaria innovation pipeline. Treatments continue to get better, and vaccines are already proving to save lives, with even more effective next-gen vaccines to come. A lot of interesting work is underway with endectocides, a type of drug that could potentially make your blood toxic to mosquitoes. There’s even a fascinating trial that looks at whether targeting mosquito larvae in rice paddies could make a difference. The goal of this trial is to stop malaria, but early results from Nigeria and Rwanda indicate that larval control could boost rice yields as much as 50 percent, which would be incredible for farmers.

Unfortunately, while the R&D progress we’re making is remarkable, the same can’t be said for the fight against malaria overall. Donor governments are cutting health aid—including money for the Global Fund, which has saved more than 70 million lives to date by helping deliver lifesaving tools like bed nets. Last year, our partners across Africa pulled off a miracle to minimize the impact of the cuts. With support from our foundation, they found creative ways to distribute supplies that were already in warehouses across the continent.

This year, the picture looks different. While some funding has since been restored, cuts from multiple donor governments mean it's not yet enough to guarantee bed nets and other tools reach every family who needs them. Our foundation is doing everything we can to help close that gap. I continue to advocate for increased funding, because it is ridiculous to put the health of the world’s children at risk when we know how to save them.

I believe we can end malaria forever. We have some of the tools we need already, and I think we’ll have the rest soon. We can defeat mosquitoes, just like we stopped screwworm more than half a century ago and just like we’ll stop it again. The question is whether the world will choose to make it happen.

The choice is obvious to me. We have an opportunity to ensure that no child dies from malaria ever again. Let’s take it.

A genetic cheat code

Moving ahead responsibly

I spend a lot of time thinking and worrying about malaria. After all, it’s one of the big focuses of my work at the Gates Foundation. But for most Americans, the disease is a distant concern—something that happens “there,” not here.

That’s true today. It wasn’t always.

It was especially rampant in the South, from the Carolinas and the Mississippi Delta down to Florida and all along the Gulf Coast.

Every summer, people braced for the start of “fever season.” In her Little House on the Prairie books, Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote about what she called “fever ‘n’ ague.” A laundry list of presidents—including George Washington, Andrew Jackson, Abraham Lincoln, and Ulysses S. Grant—battled the disease.

During the Civil War, Confederate General Robert E. Lee was even counting on malaria to weaken Union troops, confident that “the climate in June will force the enemy to retire.” (It ended up crippling his own army more.)

Without modern medicine, or any understanding of how the disease spread, people reached for whatever remedies they could find: drinking vinegar and whiskey, rubbing onions on their skin, and boiling bitter herbs into tea. Powdered quinine, a substance derived from cinchona bark, actually worked—but it was expensive and hard to obtain, so few people had access to it.

For most people, the fevers kept returning year 
after year and summer after summer.

The first breakthrough came at the turn of the 20th century. Scientists finally proved that malaria was transmitted by mosquitoes—not, as had been previously thought, by contaminated water or poor air quality. (Malaria means “bad air” in medieval Italian.) It was a crucial discovery. Finally, people knew what to target. Across the South, some communities began draining swamps to try to control their mosquito populations. But most of these efforts were basic and improvised. What was needed was the kind of massive, coordinated, well-funded approach that only the federal government could mount. Enter one of the most ambitious and impactful infrastructure projects in American history: the Tennessee Valley Authority.

Enter one of the most ambitious and impactful infrastructure projects in American history


the Tennessee Valley Authority.

The TVA wasn’t created to fight malaria. Launched in 1933 as part of the New Deal, its mission was mainly economic: to bring electricity and jobs to the rural South, where some of the country’s poorest people lived, during the Great Depression. But the region also had some of the nation’s highest malaria rates, with 30 percent of its population infected. TVA leaders quickly realized their work wouldn’t succeed unless public health improved too.

So they incorporated malaria prevention into their projects. As engineers built dams and power plants across the region, they also drained thousands of acres of swamps, reshaped rivers, regraded land, and upgraded housing—which all helped to destroy mosquito breeding grounds. At the same time, public health campaigns educated people on installing window screens and eliminating standing water around their homes after storms. Then came World War II.

Then Came


world war II

As military bases popped up across the South, malaria became a growing threat to soldiers and defense industry workers. So the U.S. responded by launching a new program in 1942: the Office of Malaria Control in War Areas, headquartered in Atlanta. It was the federal government’s first centralized program created explicitly to fight malaria—and it laid the groundwork for what would become the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, or CDC, which officially took over the malaria effort in 1947.

The goal of the campaign, which began with wartime control before transitioning to peacetime eradication, was simple but ambitious: Stop mosquitoes from spreading malaria, and stop people from carrying it.

ON THE MOSQUITO FRONT

The campaign launched the largest insecticide operation in U.S. history and paired it with an aggressive effort to destroy mosquito breeding grounds. Teams of sprayers went door-to-door with tanks of DDT strapped to their backs, covering millions of homes in what was essentially a chemical shield against mosquitoes. In some areas, airplanes dusted entire counties with insecticide. Meanwhile, construction crews drained ditches by hand or with bulldozers. In Florida, they used dynamite to blast open drainage paths from mosquito-infested marshland.

ON THE HUMAN SIDE

Quinine and later chloroquine—its synthetic successor—were distributed widely, especially in rural areas with high infection rates. These drugs cleared the parasite from the bloodstream, which meant that even if someone was bitten by a mosquito, they wouldn’t pass the disease on. Mobile teams traveled from town to town, testing and treating entire communities. In the Mississippi Delta, they even set up roadside treatment stations where people could stop for a dose on the way to work or school.

Public health messaging played a huge role, too. One memorable cartoon featured a mosquito named Bloodthirsty Ann—yes, short for Anopheles—that taught troops how to reduce their risk of contracting malaria. Its creator was a young army captain named Theodor Geisel, who eventually became better known as Dr. Seuss.

Perhaps the most impressive part of the program was its scale and speed. In just a few years, tens of thousands of public health workers across fifteen states were hired and trained. Doctors, nurses, scientists, teachers, technicians, and trusted community figures knocked on doors, gathered data, treated patients, and made sure no outbreak went unchecked. In 1951, America declared victory over malaria.

In 1951


AMERICA DECLARED VICTORY OVER MALARIA

I think about this history a lot when I’m visiting Sub-Saharan Africa, where the parasite still kills 600,000 people a year. Because in many ways, the strategy hasn’t changed: Stop transmission, clear infections, and build public health systems that prevent malaria from roaring back.

Malarious area of the United States 

But the U.S. had some key advantages that made elimination much easier. Compared to the species responsible for most malaria today, our mosquitoes weren’t as efficient at transmitting the parasite. Our climate also limited transmission to the summer months; in tropical regions, people get infected year-round. And by the 1940s, our country had relatively strong infrastructure, even in rural areas, that many malaria-endemic countries today still lack.

ON THE TREATMENT SIDE

So the challenge today is much bigger. Fortunately, today’s malaria-fighting toolbox is much bigger—and better—too.

Instead of blanket spraying DDT, which has since been banned, modern prevention relies on safer insecticide-treated bed nets and indoor spraying techniques that use smaller doses of more targeted chemicals. Sugar baits, which lure mosquitoes to ingest a lethal dose of insecticide, are already helping reduce their numbers. And gene drive technology could soon block the parasite inside the mosquito itself—so even if someone gets bitten, they won’t get infected.

Chloroquine has been replaced by artemisinin-based combination therapies, or ACTs, which are more effective and less prone to resistance. New drugs like tafenoquine are helping eliminate recurring strains. Seasonal chemoprevention protects children during peak transmission months. And the first malaria vaccine has been approved, with more on the way.

Malaria elimination is never easy. But unlike a century ago, it’s no longer a mystery. The world knows how to stop this disease. We’ve done it before. And with the right investments and innovations, we can do it again—this time, for everyone.

I was scrolling Reddit recently when I saw a video of a mosquito trying and failing to suck someone’s blood. Some of the replies were pretty funny, but I noticed that most of them were just some form of “How do I get this person’s superpower?” It was a great reminder of how universally hated these bloodsuckers are.

But I have good news—for Reddit users and everyone else: Real progress has been made in the fight against mosquitoes and specifically against malaria, the deadliest disease they carry. And I believe we’ll soon have the transformational tools needed to end malaria entirely.

Eradication is a goal Melinda and I set back in 2007, when we stood before a group of global health leaders and called for something many considered impossible: wiping malaria out completely from every country. And until that happened, our goal was—and is—to save as many lives as possible by maximizing the impact of the tools we already have. Eradicating the disease wasn't a new idea; the World Health Organization had made a similar declaration back in 1955. But that earlier campaign, while successful in many wealthier parts of the world, had fallen short across Africa, Asia, the Middle East, Eastern Europe, Central and South America, the Caribbean, and Oceania. Despite half a century of effort, malaria was still infecting up to half a billion people—and claiming a million lives—annually.

Today, the landscape has changed dramatically. In 2022—the last year we have data on—there were 249 million cases worldwide and 608,000 deaths. Those are staggering numbers, but they’re also improvements from where the world was back in 2007. Since then, 17 additional countries have been declared malaria-free by the World Health Organization. Outside of Africa, deaths from the disease have mostly been eliminated.

Sometimes when I tell people I’m optimistic about the future, they look at me like I’m crazy. How could I say that when there’s so much violence in the world, the international order seems to be collapsing, and AI may end up doing more harm than good?

I see all these problems too, and I’m deeply concerned about them. (I am working on a long memo about the risks and benefits of AI that I plan to publish later this month.)

But through my work with the Gates Foundation and other organizations, I also get to see signs of progress that help me stay optimistic.

To me, being hopeful about the future doesn’t mean you ignore the bad news. It’s actually the opposite: You look directly at it and then search for people who are doing something about it. In most cases, you’ll find them. And then you will start to see the broader trend of progress they are contributing to.

Here are some of my favorite signs of progress.

IN THE PAST:

• We’ve cut the number of children who die every year by more than half, from more than 9 million in 2000 to fewer than 5 million now.
• For the first time, we have a blood test for Alzheimer’s and drugs that may slow its progress.
• Electric vehicles now make up about one in four new cars sold worldwide, with sales topping 20 million in 2025.
• There are 1.5 billion fewer people living in extreme poverty today than in 1990, even though the population has risen 50 percent since then.
• Nearly 95 million girls have been fully immunized with HPV vaccine, so they’re much less likely to develop cervical cancer later in life.
• More than 86 percent of the world’s adults can read and write, up from about 68 percent in 1979.

IN THE PIPELINE:

• The newest obesity drug in trials produces nearly 30 percent weight loss, almost as good as what surgery achieves. The same class of drugs is expanding fast into related conditions, including sleep apnea, fatty liver disease, and hopefully, osteoarthritis.
• Scientists are developing a single-shot cure for sickle cell disorders, which kill tens of thousands of people every year, and it could be available within five years. The underlying technology is also being used to develop a single-shot HIV cure.
• We’re close to eradicating polio, which is endemic in only two countries. We’re nearly done with Guinea worm disease as well, cutting it from 3.5 million cases in 1986 to just ten last year.
• The mRNA technology behind some COVID vaccines is now being used for cancer vaccines, with nearly 100 in clinical trials for melanoma, lung, pancreatic, and other cancers.
• A new tuberculosis vaccine is in final-stage trials. If it works, it will be the first new TB vaccine in more than a century and could prevent tens of millions of cases over the next 25 years.

I love telling these stories. Here’s a video where you can see the amazing impact of the Green Revolution.

I find that trying to keep a positive attitude is valuable in itself. It keeps me grounded so I don’t swing toward one political extreme or another. I think the world might be less polarized if more people had a sense of the positive things that are going on in addition to the problems we need to solve.

You can find more videos here about progress. If you see one that strikes a chord for you, I’d encourage you to share it.

I just got back from the most incredible week in Rwanda. My favorite trips are always the ones that leave me feeling inspired and energized. And if you’re looking for reasons for optimism, Rwanda is a good place to start.

What stood out to me was how Rwanda's long-term investments in people, strong institutions, and delivery have translated into real progress. Over the last 25 years, the country has delivered one of Africa’s most remarkable health transformations. Since the year 2000, the number of children who die before the age of five has dropped by 73 percent. Maternal deaths have fallen by over 80 percent, and nearly all pregnant women now give birth in a health facility with a skilled birth attendant present.

I was lucky to meet many of the local leaders and innovators driving that progress. Africa is entering a new era that is increasingly shaped by African leadership, and it’s amazing to see firsthand. At the Gates Foundation, our role is to listen to leaders like the ones I met, and to support them with resources, data, and technical expertise so they can get the greatest value from every dollar they invest in saving and improving lives.

These were some of the highlights from the week:

Rwanda’s frontline health heroes: My trip started in Mwulire, where Gaudence Ngendahayo, a community health worker, showed me what her work looks like as she made the rounds in her catchment. Rwanda’s community health worker program is the backbone of its health system, and when you watch Gaudence work, it’s easy to see why. She goes house to house checking in on how families are doing. If someone isn’t feeling well, she either treats them herself or refers them to the health center nearby. (Around 60 percent of all malaria cases in Rwanda are treated by community health workers.) Along the way, she collects invaluable information that helps connect communities to the broader health system.

Primary healthcare in the community: If Gaudence isn’t able to treat someone herself, their next stop is the Mwulire Health Center. I visited the facility, which is primarily staffed by nurses and offers all of the services you would expect from a primary care provider: outpatient consultations, prenatal and maternal care, normal deliveries, family planning, immunization, and HIV and TB services. (More complex cases are referred to district hospitals.) It was interesting to learn more about how the data collected here flows through the health system to Rwanda’s National Health Intelligence Center, or NHIC, connecting every level of care and helping health workers make quick and informed decisions.

Digging into the data: Next was seeing the NHIC firsthand, where real-time data from clinics, hospitals, and community health workers is used to generate insights that the Ministry of Health uses to make quick, evidence-based decisions. Rwanda has done an incredible job building digital public infrastructure, or DPI, and I got to learn more about how its investments have paid off over the last decade. Rwanda has created a culture where data and evidence matter. They track what they're doing, they see what needs to improve, and they take action. The NHIC is also where Horizon 1000, our partnership with OpenAI to improve quality care by accelerating the adoption of AI tools in primary health clinics, is housed. I wrote about the initiative earlier this year, and it was exciting to see it taking shape on the ground. Seeing real pilots underway rather than plans on paper was one of the best parts of the trip. I can’t wait until the day we can point to a patient who got better healthcare because of it.

Manufacturing key medical supplies: Most people don’t think about the supply chain when they picture healthcare systems, but it’s essential to ensuring health workers have the tools they need. The staff at Mwulire Health Center use auto-disable syringes—injectors that can only be used once, which prevents the spread of bloodborne pathogens like HIV—made nearby at the TKMD Rwanda Manufacturing Facility. Being able to make key supplies locally makes the system more resilient and reduces its dependence on imported products, while also benefiting neighboring countries that rely on these essential medical products.

Up close with Rwanda’s digital transformation: I’ve followed Rwanda’s work on DPI closely for many years, but there is nothing quite like seeing it in person at the Upanzi Digital Experience Center at Carnegie Mellon University Africa. The Upanzi Network was created to build Africa’s capacity to develop, test, adopt, and govern open-source digital technologies—like identity, payments and cybersecurity—in a way that is secure, inclusive, trustworthy, and locally relevant. I got to see their DPI stack up close, which is built on open-source platforms like MOSIP and Mojaloop and is now being adopted by a growing number of African governments to run their national critical infrastructure. It was super interesting to hear from the young researchers shaping it with their lived experiences across Africa. This is exactly the kind of African-owned, African-built infrastructure that will improve lives across the continent.

Young innovators leading the way with AI: I always love meeting with brilliant young innovators, so I knew visiting the Rwanda AI Scaling Hub in Kigali would be fascinating and inspiring. I met founders who are using technology and AI to tackle local development challenges, from expanding access to healthcare to helping communities access critical services. Dr. Loza Admassu, founder of Ambucycle, is using data-driven logistics to improve emergency medical transport and connect patients more quickly to life-saving care. Audace Niyonkuru, founder of Digital Umuganda, told me about the efforts she’s leading to collect and curate African local-language voice data to help train AI models that better understand and serve African communities. What stood out was not just the technology itself but the ambition, creativity, and determination of young Africans who are building solutions for their own communities and creating innovations with the potential to benefit people around the world.

The next generation of African health leadership: If I had to pick one highlight of my trip, it would be my day at the University of Global Health Equity in Butaro. My friend Paul Farmer was working at the university when he died, and it was moving to see how his vision of equity continues to shape the university, the hospital, and the community around it. Watching medical students train for the kinds of emergencies they will one day manage in their own communities was especially inspiring. I was honored to help launch the Butaro Dialogues and speak with students from across the continent, including members of the Consortium of Medical Students' Associations. Their questions reflected both a deep understanding of today's challenges and an ambitious vision for a more equitable future of global health. Africa’s greatest resource has always been its people. Sitting across from these young people as they talked about their big ideas for global health, it was crystal clear that they are the next generation of leaders who will shape the continent’s future.

Growing farms with data and AI: My last stop was the One Acre Fund, an African-focused organization that helps millions of smallholder farmers get more out of every harvest. I met farmers who work with the program and leverage on-time delivery of seeds and fertilizer, along with hands-on training, to help their families grow more food and earn more money. (Rwandan farmers in the program generated $118 million in new profits last year alone.) One Acre Fund connects farmers with technology by building on Rwanda’s digital farmer registry and subsidy system, connecting government data with on-the-ground support. They then pull in AI-powered tools like Virtual Agronomist, which can answer farmers’ questions over WhatsApp using real data on their soil and local weather. I’m super excited to see how innovations like this can arm more farmers across Africa with the information they need.

My time in Rwanda reminded me how much progress can be made when innovation reaches the people who need it most. Across the country, scientists, entrepreneurs, and governments are driving breakthroughs that are practical, affordable, and designed for local needs. Rwanda has already achieved major progress with even greater opportunities ahead, and its young people are poised to shape not only the African continent, but the world.

I’ve been working in global health for two and a half decades now, and the transformation in how we fight HIV/AIDS is one of the most remarkable achievements I’ve witnessed. (It’s second only to how vaccines have saved millions of children's lives.)  

At the dawn of the AIDS epidemic, an HIV diagnosis was often a death sentence. But in the years since, so much has changed. Today, not only do we have anti-retroviral medications that allow people with HIV to live full, healthy lives with undetectable viral loads—meaning they can’t transmit the virus to others. We also have powerful preventative medications known as PrEP, or pre-exposure prophylaxis, that can reduce a person’s risk of contracting the virus by up to 99 percent when taken as prescribed. It’s an incredible feat of science: a pill that virtually prevents HIV contraction.

In theory, if we could get these tools to everyone who needs them and make sure they’re used correctly, we could stop HIV in its tracks. Because when people with the virus receive proper treatment, they can’t transmit it to others. And when people at risk take PrEP, they can’t contract it. In practice, however, getting these tools to people—and making sure they’re used correctly—is the hard part. Especially for PrEP.  

That’s because current preventatives require people to take medication every single day. Miss a dose, and protection drops. It’s like trying to remember to lock your front door 365 times a year—if you mess up once, you’re vulnerable. For many people, the barriers stack up quickly. Some have to walk hours to reach a clinic. Others struggle to store medication safely or discreetly at home. And many face judgment and stigma for taking PrEP, especially young women in conservative communities. The very act of protecting yourself can lead to being shamed or ostracized. 

That’s why I’m so excited about a new wave of innovations in HIV prevention. Scientists are in the process of developing several longer-lasting PrEP breakthroughs, each with distinct advantages that could help more people protect themselves on their own terms. 

Lenacapavir, which requires only two doses per year through injection, could open HIV prevention up to people who can’t make frequent clinic visits. Cabotegravir, another injectable option that works for two months at a time, offers a more flexible dosing schedule than daily PrEP pills, too. Meanwhile, a monthly oral medication called MK-8572, still in the trial stage, could provide an alternative for people who prefer pills to injections. The Gates Foundation is even exploring ways to maintain a person’s protection for six months or longer. And researchers are working on promising PrEP options that include contraception, which would be particularly valuable for women who need both types of protection. 

To understand how these options work in real life, and not just in labs, our foundation has supported implementation studies in South Africa, Malawi, and elsewhere. Unlike traditional clinical trials that test safety and efficacy in highly controlled settings, these studies examine how medications fit into people’s lives and work in everyday circumstances—looking at ease of use, cultural acceptance, and other practical challenges. This real-world understanding is crucial for successful adoption.  

Some people ask me if these new preventative tools mean the Gates Foundation has given up on finding an HIV vaccine. Not at all. In fact, these advances push us to aim even higher in our research for a vaccine that could prevent HIV for a lifetime—and not just a few months at a time. Our goal is to create multiple layers of protection, much like modern cars have seatbelts, airbags, and even collision-warning sensors. Different tools work better for different people in different ways, and we need every tool we can get. 

But even the most brilliant innovations make no difference unless they reach the people who need them most. This is where partnerships become crucial. Through grants to research institutions around the world, the foundation is working to lower manufacturing costs for HIV drugs so they’re accessible to everyone, everywhere. Then there are organizations like the Global Fund and PEPFAR, which have been instrumental in turning scientific advances into real-world impact.  

The Global Fund—which needs to raise significant new resources next year to continue its work—currently helps more than 24 million people access HIV prevention and treatment. And PEPFAR has saved 25 million lives since its inception in 2003—a powerful example of how American leadership can build tremendous goodwill while transforming the world. Motivated by the belief that no person should die of HIV/AIDS when lifesaving medications are available, President George W. Bush created PEPFAR with strong bipartisan backing and it continues to serve as a lifeline to millions of people.  

We're at a pivotal moment in this fight. Twenty years ago, many believed it would be impossible to deliver HIV treatment at scale in Africa’s poorest regions. Since then, we’ve made fantastic progress. Science has shown us promising paths forward—for better prevention options, easier treatment regimens, and, maybe one day, an effective vaccine. Our task now? Ensuring the life-saving innovations we already have reach the people whose lives they can save. 

I’ve never been much of a soccer fan. (Tennis and pickleball are my favorite sports.) Still, seeing the athleticism and passion on display during the World Cup, I understand why soccer has earned the nickname “the beautiful game.” What makes soccer even more beautiful is the positive impact it can have off the field.

There may be no better example of this than the work of a unique non-profit organization called Grassroot Soccer, which was featured at a health innovation event where I spoke earlier this week.

For the last two decades, Grassroot Soccer has used the incredible popularity of the game to help young people across Africa navigate some of their toughest health challenges.

Despite significant progress in health and development in Africa, including a dramatic decline in child mortality, HIV/AIDS continues to be a leading cause of death among youth in Africa. Sexual violence threatens the health and safety of girls. A lack of access to contraceptives contributes to high rates of teen pregnancy. And mental health services are often unavailable.

Solving these challenges is difficult—and especially important given that 60 percent of Africans are under the age of 25. So, how can soccer make a difference?

Because it’s so popular, soccer offers a hook to capture the attention of young people. Grassroot Soccer uses the game to involve them in activities that encourage them to live healthier, more productive lives.

Here’s one simple example. In an activity called “Risk Field,” players are asked to dribble a soccer ball through cones labeled with some of the risky behaviors that young people often encounter, such as unprotected sex, HIV, multiple partners, and alcohol.

The local youth who serve as Grassroot Soccer coaches are a critical component of the program. Trained in basic counseling skills, the coaches play an important role as trusted mentors to the young participants.

The coaches also accompany adolescents to clinics where they can get HIV testing, contraceptives, and other services. (In some countries, young people might be turned away because of their age or criticized by health staff for seeking contraceptives and testing. The coaches serve as advocates to support their right to health services.) Coaches also conduct home visits to talk with parents and guardians about their programs and health services.

Founded in 2002 by Dr. Tommy Clark, a pediatrician and former professional soccer player, Grassroot Soccer initially focused on stopping the spread of HIV. (The Gates Foundation was an early funder of its work.) Today the organization works in more than 60 countries and has reached more than 18 million young people.

Studies have shown that its participants had better access to sexual and reproductive health services, were more likely to stick with their HIV treatment, and were less likely to experience depression.

That kind of impact gives everyone, even casual soccer fans like me, something to cheer about.

Quarraisha and Salim Abdool Karim are two of the most respected HIV/AIDS researchers in the world. This year, the wife-and-husband team has also helped shape the world’s response to COVID-19. But it was a more humble setting that sparked their careers in epidemiology more than 30 years ago.

They had met in medical school in their native South Africa before moving to New York City for graduate school. In 1988, shortly after they were married, they took a trip to Mexico, where they met up in a tiny village in the Sierra Madre mountains with a friend, a physician who had written a seminal textbook on health care in remote rural settings.

Outside the village’s health clinic, they saw a man pedaling a bicycle that was mounted on a stand and connected to a power cable. It turned out that a local farmer also doubled as the village’s dentist—a pretty good one, apparently—and volunteers would pedal the bike to power his drill.

“We watched how this community took their destiny in their own hands,” says Salim, “and they had the most amazing dental care from this bicycle powering a drill. It imprinted on us how people can really change their own world.”

It was a powerful lesson about the need for scientists to understand and collaborate with the people they’re trying to help. The experience in that village would shape the rest of their careers, especially when they created a research center in South Africa designed to address two of the biggest problems in HIV/AIDS in Africa.

By the 1990s, the disease was devastating the Abdool Karims’ home country—and still is today. One out of every five people in the world with HIV lives in South Africa. The couple saw two issues that were rarely on the agenda of other HIV experts. One was that young women were bearing a disproportionate burden in the epidemic, and that there was no way to control the epidemic if their needs weren’t addressed. The other was that people living with HIV are at a high risk of contracting and dying from tuberculosis—a link that’s now known as HIV-TB coinfection. 

“These were very much our problems in Africa that few others were working on,” says Quarraisha, “and if we waited for solutions from elsewhere, it wasn’t going to come. We had to take the lead.”

In 2001, they brought together a group of researchers they felt could make a bigger impact on HIV and named the group CAPRISA (for the Center for the AIDS Program of Research in South Africa). Today CAPRISA runs three clinics where they provide antiretrovirals to people living with HIV and study new approaches to treating and preventing the disease. It is regarded as one of the world’s most influential AIDS research programs.

CAPRISA is probably best known for a landmark study published in 2010 proving for the first time that a microbicide—a gel that a woman could use before and after sex—can offer some protection from the virus. Scientists had been trying to make effective microbicides for nearly two decades, but the Abdool Karims’ formulation—one that used tenofovir, a drug normally given to people who already had HIV—was the first to offer any protection. Although the field has now moved on from microbicides and is focused on a more effective daily pill instead, the concept is still based on CAPRISA’s microbicide findings.

CAPRISA is as admired for the way it works as for its results. Inspired by the farmer-dentist they met in Mexico, Salim and Quarraisha make it a priority to empower the people they’re trying to help. They work closely with community leaders to make sure their research efforts are informed by realities on the ground and embraced by their neighbors. Here’s the story of one remarkable CAPRISA staff member, Gethwana Mahlase, and the way she represents the program in her community of Vulindlela.

Over the next few years, Quarraisha and Salim hope to build on their study of tenofovir as an HIV preventative. Right now, the best option is a pill you have to take every day, a regimen that can be hard to keep up. So CAPRISA is working on a form of the drug that could protect a woman for as long as a year at a time.

They’re also working on a fascinating approach called “broadly neutralizing antibodies,” which dates back several years. In 2012, they discovered that an HIV-positive woman in one of CAPRISA’s studies had a trait that was, as far as they knew, unique. The antibodies made by her immune system could attack not only the strain of HIV that she had, but also—this was the impressive part—80 percent of the other known strains of HIV from around the world. If they could isolate the cells that made these antibodies, reproduce them, and use them to create antibodies for other people, it would be a game changer.

After years of painstaking work with a number of partners, they were able to create the broadly neutralizing antibodies in a lab and test them in monkeys, with very positive results. Now the antibodies are being studied in humans for safety and, eventually, efficacy. If this approach works, you would need to get an injection just twice a year in order to get protection—a dosage that is far more practical than a daily pill. Success would also point the way toward the ultimate goal of an HIV vaccine.

Unfortunately, much of the Abdool Karims’ attention has been elsewhere this year. Drawing on their experiences from HIV and TB, they are helping guide the COVID-19 response in South Africa and around the world. It is a shame that they haven’t been able to focus on HIV/AIDS, but on the other hand, it is a reminder of how fighting old diseases like HIV helps the world prepare for new ones like COVID-19. Investing long-term in programs like CAPRISA—or work on polio or malaria—not only prevents deaths and disability from specific diseases, it also strengthens the overall field of global health. So when a pandemic comes along, we have a network of experts like Quarraisha and Salim ready to pitch in.

What strikes me about this couple is how upbeat they are, even in the face of devastating diseases like the coronavirus and HIV. Their motto at CAPRISA is, “Each day that you come to work, you should be looking for how today is going to be better than yesterday.” That is a lesson we can all take to heart.

Last year, at an event in New York, I learned about an impressive woman whose story I want to share with you. Her name is Cacilda Fumo, she lives in Mozambique, and every year she helps save hundreds of lives—by reminding them they are not alone.

Mozambique has one of the highest HIV infection rates in the world. More than 1.6 million people—10 percent of the adult population—are living with HIV.

Cacilda was diagnosed with HIV in 2002. “When I first learned about it, I thought I would die,” she recalls. “I used to wake up early morning and check if I am alive or not.”

But then she started meeting other people living with HIV, and as their numbers grew so did her strength and her belief she would live. Cacilda was one of the first in Maputo to be open about her status. She started wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with a logo that reads: “HIV POSITIVE.”

At times, people rejected her because of her status. Many more in her community, however, admired her for her courage, helping her create an even larger circle of friends and supporters. They met every week, praying together, cooking together, and sharing their stories. Eventually, the group had about one hundred people, many of them receiving life-saving anti-retroviral treatment. Cacilda emerged as their leader.

About the same time, Mozambique’s Ministry of Health was struggling to improve the delivery of anti-retroviral treatment. While the program was successful in putting thousands of patients on treatment for the first time, medical staff were overburdened with caseloads. People on HIV treatment often walked miles to reach their clinic and waited in long lines to get care. Every year, about 30 percent of HIV patients dropped off their life-saving treatment.

Working with Doctors Without Borders, the government of Mozambique decided to try a new approach to simplify care to help keep more people on treatment. They started organizing small peer support groups for people on HIV treatment. The idea was simple. Make treatment easier by putting more control into the hands of the patients. A representative from each patient group could pick up all the drugs for the group each month, saving the rest of the group the hassle of going to the clinic. Members of the groups, known as Community antiretroviral therapy (ART) Groups or CAGs, would also support one another to ensure they were all staying on their treatment.

When the program reached Maputo, Cacilda was ready to join. She helped organize dozens of support groups from her network. Then she went one step further. She kept track of the groups, checking whether members were attending their meetings and taking their treatment. If someone fell off treatment, she took upon herself to locate them and find out what was wrong.

“We help people feel strong knowing they are not alone,” she says.

Some patients who stop treatment are addicted to alcohol and forget to take their treatment, she says. Some don’t understand how the treatment works and the stop taking their medication as soon as they feel better. Others get busy with their jobs and drift away.

Whatever the reason, Cacilda warns them of the dangers of stopping treatment and encourages them to restart. Her efforts to bring back residents of Maputo to treatment has become nearly full-time work. Most days residents of Maputo see Cacilda traveling on foot—which is remarkable because due to a childhood injury she uses crutches—through the dirty alleyways and crowded markets in search of people who have stopped treatment. She doesn’t give up until she finds them.

Cacilda’s persistence pays off—in lives saved. Cacilda estimates that she tracks down about 500 people every year and encourages them to resume their treatment.

That’s a remarkable achievement—one that proves how much difference one life can make in the world. 

On December 1^st, the global community will observe World AIDS Day. This year I would like to mark it by highlighting the work of two heroes who are making a difference in the fight against this deadly disease.

Chief Jonathan Eshiloni Mumena is chief of the Kaonde people, who live along Zambia’s border with the Democratic Republic of Congo. Risking his position as his people’s leader, Chief Mumena challenged long-held traditions to encourage Kaonde men to embrace voluntary medical male circumcision as a strategy to prevent HIV transmission. (Male circumcision can reduce a man’s risk of acquiring or transmitting HIV by up to 60 percent.) I had the privilege of meeting Chief Mumena in 2012. His story is an inspiring tale of courageous leadership and deep compassion for his people.

Guided by her belief that health care is a basic human right, Dr. Krisana Kraisintu, a pharmacist from Thailand, has worked tirelessly to make medicines affordable to even the poorest in the world. Her development of generic versions of the lifesaving HIV drugs dramatically reduced treatment costs, saving and improving countless lives. She has also dedicated her pharmaceutical skills to reduce treatment costs for malaria and other diseases.

Of course, Chief Mumena and Dr. Kraisintu are just two of the countless individuals—doctors, policymakers, researchers, activists, and political leaders—whose contributions have helped turn the tide against the disease. Today, 19.5 million people receive lifesaving antiretroviral therapy, giving them the opportunity to live full, productive lives. Improved access to treatment has also meant that millions of babies are now born HIV-free. 

Much of this progress has been made possible by the world’s enormous investments in efforts to defeat the epidemic, including the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria, and the U.S. HIV/AIDS program known as PEPFAR, President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief.

Still, many challenges lie ahead in the fight against the AIDS epidemic.

Funding for HIV control has been flat and there’s talk about cuts as the world turns to other priorities. Cuts in funding for HIV/AIDS would lead to sharp increases in deaths and new infections, reversing the gains that have been made the last decade. That’s why it’s more important than ever for the world to reaffirm its commitment to this fight. We need more AIDS heroes—from health care workers and advocates to global leaders. Together, we can bring an end to this public health threat.

If you want to be a hero this World AIDS Day, support the (RED) Shopathon. Our foundation is matching every dollar raised—up to $15 million—to fight HIV/AIDS in Africa.

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 Paul Allen and I started Microsoft, we had an ambitious goal: to put a computer on every desk and in every home. A lot of people thought we were out of our minds. But we believed in the power and potential of these machines to change the world. So every day, we came to work determined to make it happen. Now, it’s hard to imagine the world any other way. In a few short decades, that goal became reality for billions.

In 1990, the possibility that the world would be able to cut child mortality in half over the next thirty years would have seemed just as remote. But that’s exactly what happened. And I believe the world can do it again by 2040—we can cut child mortality in half once more—and get even closer to ending all preventable child deaths.

My introduction to this issue came 27 years ago, when I read a piece in The New York Times about deadly drinking water in the world’s poorest countries that contained the following statistic: “Diarrhea kills some 3.1 million people annually, almost all of them children.” Learning that shocked me to my core. There’s no greater pain than the death of a child. The death of millions of them—from something easily treatable in much of the world—is tragedy after tragedy on an almost unfathomable scale.

Before long, I was learning everything I could about global health generally and child mortality specifically. And shortly after, the Gates Foundation, which was just getting off the ground, made it our mission to fight preventable health disparities like this around the world—with an emphasis on children whose lives were being cut short before they ever had a chance.

We started the Gates Foundation 25 years ago to save and improve children’s lives. But no one can solve a problem they don’t fully understand. And back in 2000, the world’s understanding of childhood mortality was occasionally inaccurate, often imprecise, and almost always incomplete.

That’s why I believe the breakthrough that transformed our foundation in the two-and-a-half decades since wasn’t a single vaccine or treatment—it was a revolution in the world’s understanding of childhood mortality. Through advances in how researchers collect and analyze global health data, we now know much more about what kills children, where these deaths occur, and why some kids are more vulnerable than others. By putting those insights to work, we’ve been able to save lives.

The first challenge was knowing exactly what was killing children.

Reading the 1993 World Development Report opened my eyes to the scale of the problem: Around 12 million children under the age of five were dying every year, with a staggering disparity between rich and poor countries. But the available data was fragmented and inconsistent. That made it difficult to understand trends or allocate resources effectively.

So the foundation helped create the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation at the University of Washington, to give a permanent home to the Global Burden of Disease study—originally developed in the 1990s by researchers at Harvard University and the World Health Organization. We wanted to expand it from a static snapshot of the problem into a regularly updated tool that tracked how diseases impact people around the world. That gave us something the world never had before: a comprehensive—and current—picture of child mortality across every country.

Measuring symptom-based causes of children’s deaths was an important step. But broad disease categories like “diarrhea” or “respiratory infection” didn’t give us enough information to act on. We needed to know which specific pathogens were responsible for the most common and fatal cases. So the Gates Foundation funded two landmark studies to find out.

In 2013, the Global Enteric Multicenter Study, or GEMS, found that rotavirus was causing 20 percent of lethal diarrhea cases in kids. At the time, diarrhea was the second-leading infectious killer of children. While oral rehydration therapy had already helped bring down deaths over previous decades, GEMS helped fast-track the rollout of a more targeted tool—a new rotavirus vaccine—in the hardest-hit countries, in close partnership with Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance.

A year later, the Pneumonia Etiology Research for Child Health study, or PERCH, revealed that respiratory syncytial virus, or RSV, was a much more common cause of severe pneumonia—the leading infectious killer of kids around the world—than previously understood. (And not just in low- and middle-income countries, where 97 percent of RSV deaths occur, but in higher-income ones too, where the virus still fills pediatric hospital wards each winter.) That prompted us to expand our investments in RSV prevention, which led to the approval of the first maternal vaccines for RSV in 2023.

But understanding what causes childhood mortality wasn’t enough on its own, because deaths aren’t distributed evenly across countries—or even within them. That’s why our second challenge was to figure out where exactly children were dying.

At the time, most health data was collected at national or regional levels. That masked major differences in disease burden from one community to the next—and made it harder to target interventions effectively.

To solve this second challenge, the foundation invested in new approaches to health mapping that combined satellite imagery, GIS technology, GPS data, and local health surveys. These maps gave Ministries of Health and implementing partners unprecedented, anonymized detail about disease patterns and population distribution, down to individual neighborhoods, that transformed how and where public health resources are deployed—while still preserving the privacy of the individual children and families in these places.

In Pakistan—one of just two countries where wild polio remains endemic—advanced mapping tools have helped vaccination teams reach and protect kids in settlements that weren’t on any official maps. Across sub-Saharan Africa, better geographic data has transformed the fight against malaria by revealing that transmission often clusters in small, hyper-local pockets. Through the Malaria Atlas Project, countries like Nigeria can now track those patterns more precisely—and then get bed nets, testing, and treatment where they’ll have the greatest impact.

With better knowledge of what was killing children, and where, one more fundamental question remained: Why might one child die from a disease while another—who lives in the same place, faces the same risks, and gets the same treatment—survives? This was our third big challenge.

In theory, traditional autopsies would provide the answer. But in the places where most childhood deaths still occur, these invasive procedures are often impossible to perform—too costly, and sometimes opposed for religious, cultural, or personal reasons.

So in 2015, the foundation launched the Child Health and Mortality Prevention Surveillance network, or CHAMPS, which now operates in nine countries across Africa and South Asia. Working with in-country partners, CHAMPS pioneered a new autopsy alternative—using minimally invasive tissue sampling—that can determine causes of death quickly and accurately while respecting local customs and beliefs.

Through CHAMPS, we discovered that childhood deaths rarely have a single cause. Instead, kids often have multiple conditions at the same time, with malnutrition frequently leaving them much more vulnerable to a whole host of infections. (While it rarely shows up on death certificates, it’s an underlying cause of death in nearly half of all child mortality cases.) That finding helped solidify nutrition as a core focus of the foundation’s global health work—and the research, innovation, and product development we invest in. On the ground, we’re supporting partners as they integrate nutrition screening into routine care and train healthcare workers to manage multiple risks at once.

CHAMPS also demonstrated that inadequate prenatal care is responsible for a majority of stillbirths, newborn deaths, and maternal deaths, prompting us to further expand access to maternal health services—like prenatal vitamins and AI-enabled ultrasounds—in the communities where we work.

But the biggest takeaway from CHAMPS is also the most hopeful—and a reminder of why we started the Gates Foundation in the first place: So many childhood deaths could be prevented with existing interventions. We just need to ensure they reach the right children at the right time.

Twenty-five years in, our work on child mortality is far from complete. Still, the impact of what we have learned has been enormous

The Global Burden of Disease, GEMS, and PERCH studies helped shift global priorities by showing the world what was really killing kids—and where new vaccines and treatments could make the biggest difference. Better geospatial tools have empowered countries to pinpoint disease hotspots, find previously unmapped settlements, and distribute life-saving resources where they’re needed most. And CHAMPS is giving governments better data on why children are dying—data that’s now shaping policies, improving reporting, and guiding more effective care.

Most importantly, even as the number of children born every year has gone up, the number of overall childhood deaths has fallen by more than half—from 11.3 million in 1990 to 4.5 million in 2022. Playing a part in making that happen is the best job I’ve ever had, and the most meaningful work I’ve ever done.

At the Gates Foundation, we used to say we could cut child mortality in half again by 2040. The truth, though, is that goal feels further out of reach now—not because the science has stalled, but because support for global health has. The progress we’ve been part of was only possible because governments around the world, including here in the U.S., made long-term commitments to saving lives and followed through. That kind of leadership gave millions of children who would have died a chance at life—and made life better for millions more. 

The last 25 years have shown us what’s possible. The next 25 will depend on whether the world keeps showing up for the children who need it most.

In the United States, when someone has a medical emergency, we take for granted that an ambulance will arrive. It will get to some places faster than others—a disparity driven by wealth and other factors. Still, by calling 911, we’re immediately connected to a vast fleet of emergency vehicles plugged into a system that’s designed to get people to hospitals in times of crisis.

But what about countries where ambulances aren’t readily accessible? What about places where even cars are scarce, where the nearest hospital with surgical capacity might be 100 miles away down an unpaved road, and where a family facing a medical crisis has no reliable way to get there or pay for the journey?

This is the reality for millions of pregnant women across sub-Saharan Africa.

Thanks to modern medicine, we now know how to prevent most maternal and newborn deaths. And maternal mortality has declined by 40 percent over the last two decades as a result. But hundreds of thousands of women and babies still die every year from complications during pregnancy and childbirth, because they can’t get to a place where someone can treat them in time.

In maternal health, this problem is called the “second delay.” It’s a terrible tragedy, one that the Gates Foundation has been trying to address for years.

Back in 2013, partners including Vodafone Foundation and local health organizations started tackling this problem by asking a simple question in rural Tanzania: What if you could create something like a 911 system that worked with whatever transportation was available in a community? They tested the idea in a few districts, and it worked well enough that they decided to scale it up. They called it m-mama.

m-mama works like this: When a community healthcare worker identifies an emergency—maybe it’s severe bleeding after delivery, or a premature baby who can’t breathe—they call a free hotline. A trained nurse dispatcher uses an app to figure out what kind of care is needed and where it’s available, then coordinates whatever transportation makes sense for that location (a community driver with a car where there are good roads, a motorcycle where there aren’t, a boat for island communities, even a horse for mountainous terrain.) The dispatcher stays on top of everything, tracking the journey, alerting the receiving facility, and handling payment at the end.

The numbers speak for themselves. Since 2013, m-mama has responded to more than 125,000 emergencies and saved an estimated 5,266 lives. And in regions where m-mama launched, maternal emergency transports more than doubled. That means there was a massive need that was going unmet for far too long. About 58% of the deliveries transported by m-mama end up requiring a C-section, compared to the 10-15% you would expect in the general population. These are genuinely high-risk cases that would have likely ended in tragedy without emergency transport.

What’s especially impressive about m-mama’s impact is that it hasn’t required building new hospitals or buying any expensive equipment. Instead, it makes existing health systems work better by coordinating resources that are already there—ambulances, facilities, healthcare workers—and filling gaps with options that cost a fraction of what traditional ambulances do.

And it is scaling. m-mama started as a pilot serving 750,000 people and now reaches 62 million in Tanzania. It’s gone nationwide in Lesotho. It just launched in Malawi and is scaling up in Kenya. There are plans for more countries across sub-Saharan Africa, supported in part by the Beginnings Fund—a partnership that includes our foundation, the Mohamed bin Zayed Foundation for Humanity, and other organizations working to improve maternal and newborn health across Africa.

The program is financially sustainable too. Once the program is up and running, the governments cover operating costs. m-mama has proven it can be owned and run locally, which is the only way something like this works long-term.

m-mama is a reminder that not all breakthroughs in global health are new drugs or sophisticated technology. Sometimes they’re just smart ways of getting the right care to the right person at the right time. When a mother or baby is in crisis, minutes can make the difference between life and death.

m-mama is making sure those minutes count. 

I have always been an optimist. When I founded Microsoft, I believed a digital revolution powered by great software would make the world a better place. When I started the Gates Foundation, I saw an opportunity to save and improve millions of lives because critical areas like children’s health were getting so little money.

In both cases, the results exceeded my expectations. We are far better off than when I was born 70 years ago. I believe the world will keep improving—but it is harder to see that today than it has been in a long time.

Friends and colleagues often ask me how I stay optimistic in an era with so many challenges and so much polarization. My answer is this: I am still an optimist because I see what innovation accelerated by artificial intelligence will bring. But these days, my optimism comes with footnotes.

The thing I am most upset about is the fact that the world went backwards last year on a key metric of progress: the number of deaths of children under 5 years old. Over the last 25 years, those deaths went down faster than at any other point in history. But in 2025, they went up for the first time this century, from 4.6 million in 2024 to 4.8 million in 2025—an increase driven by less support from rich countries to poor countries. This trend will continue unless we make progress in restoring aid budgets.

The next five years will be difficult as we try to get back on track and work to scale up new lifesaving tools. Yet I remain optimistic about the long-term future. As hard as last year was, I don’t believe we will slide back into the Dark Ages. I believe that, within the next decade, we will not only get the world back on track but enter a new era of unprecedented progress.

The key will be, as always, innovation. Consider this: An HIV diagnosis used to be a death sentence. Today, thanks to revolutionary treatments, a person with HIV can expect to live almost as long as someone without the virus. By the 2040s, new innovations could virtually eliminate deaths from HIV/AIDS.

Budget cuts limit how many people benefit from lifesaving tools, as we saw to devastating effect last year. But nothing can erase the fact that for decades we didn’t know how to save people from HIV, and now we do. Breakthroughs are a bell that cannot be unrung. They ensure that we will never go back to the world in 2000 where over 10 million children died from preventable causes every year—and they form the core of my optimism about where the world is headed.

But as I mentioned, there are footnotes to my optimism. Although the innovation pipeline sets us up for long-term success, the trajectory of progress hinges on how the world addresses three key questions.

1.

Will a world that is getting richer increase its generosity toward those in need?

The “golden rule” precept is more important now than ever with the record disparities in wealth. This idea of treating others as you wish to be treated does not just apply to rich countries giving aid. It must also include philanthropy from the wealthy to help those in need—both domestically and globally—which should grow rapidly in a world with a record number of billionaires and even centibillionaires.

Through the Giving Pledge, I get to work with a number of incredible philanthropists who set a great example by giving away substantial portions of their wealth in smart ways. However, more needs to be done to encourage higher levels of generosity from the rich and to show how fulfilling and impactful it can be.

Turning to aid budgets for poor countries, I am worried about one number: If funding for health decreases by 20 percent, 12 million more children could die by 2045. I know cuts won’t be reversed overnight, even though aid represented less than 1 percent of GDP even in the most generous countries. But it is critical that we restore some of the funding. The foundation’s Goalkeepers report lays out what is at risk and how the world can best spend the aid it gives.

I will spend much of my year working with partners to advocate for increased funding for the health of the world’s children. I plan to engage with a number of communities, including health care workers, religious groups, and members of diaspora communities to help make this case.

2.

Will the world prioritize scaling innovations that improve equality?

Some problems require doing far more than just letting market incentives take their course.

The first critical area is climate change. Without a large global carbon tax (which is, unfortunately, politically unachievable), market forces do not properly incentivize the creation of technologies to reduce climate-related emissions.

Yet only by replacing all emitting activities with cheaper alternatives will we stop the temperature increase. This is why I started Breakthrough Energy 10 years ago and why I will continue to put billions into innovation.

The world has made meaningful progress in the last decade, cutting projected emissions by more than 40 percent. But we still have a lot of innovation and scaling up to do in tough areas like industrial emissions and aviation. Government policies in rich countries are still critical because unless innovations reach scale, the costs won’t come down and we won’t achieve the impact we need.

If we don’t limit climate change, it will join poverty and infectious disease in causing enormous suffering, especially for the world’s poorest people. Since even in the best case the temperature will continue to go up, we also need to innovate to minimize the negative impacts.

This is called climate adaptation, and a critical example is helping farmers in poor countries with better seeds and better advice so they can grow more even in the face of climate change. Using AI, we will soon be able to provide poor farmers with better advice about weather, prices, crop diseases, and soil than even the richest farmers get today. The foundation has committed $1.4 billion to supporting farmers on the frontlines of extreme weather.

I will be investing and giving more than ever to climate work in the years ahead while also continuing to give more to children’s health, the foundation’s top priority. The need to ensure money is spent on the most important priorities was the topic of a memo I wrote in the fall.

A second critical area where the world must focus on innovation-driven equality is health care. Concerns about healthcare costs and quality are higher than ever in all countries.

In theory, people should feel optimistic about the state of health care with the incredible pipeline of innovations. For example, a recent breakthrough in diagnosing Alzheimer’s will revolutionize how we test for—and ultimately prevent—this disease, saving billions of dollars in costs. (Funding Alzheimer’s research is a particular focus for me.) There’s similar progress on obesity and cancer, as well as on problems in developing countries like malaria, TB, and malnutrition.

Despite so much progress, however, the cost and complexity of the system means very few people are satisfied with their care. I believe we can improve health care dramatically in all countries by using AI not only to accelerate the development of innovations but directly in the delivery of health care.

Like many of you, I already use AI to better understand my own health. Just imagine what will be possible as it improves and becomes available for every patient and provider. Always-available, high-quality medical advice will improve medicine by every measure.

We aren’t quite there yet—developers still have work to do on reliability and how we connect the AI to doctors and nurses so they are empowered to check and override the system. But I’m optimistic we will soon begin to scale access globally. I am following this work so the Gates Foundation and partners can make sure this capability is available in the countries that need it most—where there aren’t enough medical personnel—at the same time it is available elsewhere. We are already working on pilots and making sure that even relatively uncommon African languages are fully supported.

Governments will have to play a central role in leading the implementation of AI into their health systems. This is another case where the market alone won’t and can’t provide the solution.

A third and final area I will mention briefly is education. AI gives us a chance for the kind of personalized learning to keep students motivated that we have dreamed of in the past. This is now a focus of the Gates Foundation’s spending on education, and I am hopeful it will be empowering to both teachers and students. I’ve seen this firsthand in New Jersey, and it will be game changing as we scale it for the world.

All three of these areas—climate, health, and education—can improve rapidly with the right government focus. This year I will spend a lot of time meeting with pioneers all over the world to see which countries are doing the best work so we can spread best practices.

3.

Will we minimize negative disruptions caused by AI as it accelerates?

Of all the things humans have ever created, AI will change society the most. It will help solve many of our current problems while also bringing new challenges very different from past innovations.

When people in the AI space predict that AGI or fully humanoid robots will come soon and then those deadlines are missed, it creates the impression that these things will never happen. However, there is no upper limit on how intelligent AIs will get or on how good robots will get, and I believe the advances will not plateau before exceeding human levels.

The two big challenges in the next decade are use of AI by bad actors and disruption to the job market. Both are real risks that we need to do a better job managing. We’ll need to be deliberate about how this technology is developed, governed, and deployed.

In 2015, I gave a TED talk warning that the world was not ready to handle a pandemic. If we had prepared properly for the Covid pandemic, the amount of human suffering would have been dramatically less. Today, an even greater risk than a naturally caused pandemic is that a non-government group will use open source AI tools to design a bioterrorism weapon.

The second challenge is job market disruption. AI capabilities will allow us to make far more goods and services with less labor. In a mathematical sense, we should be able to allocate these new capabilities in ways that benefit everyone. As AI delivers on its potential, we could reduce the work week or even decide there are some areas we don’t want to use AI in.

The effects of this disruption are hard to model. Sometimes, when a game-changing technology improves rapidly, it drives more demand at lower cost and, by making the world richer, increases demand in other areas. For example, AI makes software developers at least twice as efficient, which makes coding cheaper while also creating demand elasticity for code. (Computing is a good historical example where lower costs actually caused the overall market to grow.)

Even with this complexity, the rate of improvement is already starting to be enough to disrupt job demand in areas like software development. Other areas like warehouse work or phone support are not quite there yet, but once the AIs become more capable, the job disruption will be more immediate.

We’re already starting to see the impact of AI on the job market, and I think this impact will grow over the next five years. Even if the transition takes longer than I expect, we should use 2026 to prepare ourselves for these changes—including which policies will best help spread the wealth and deal with the important role jobs play in our society. Different political parties will likely suggest different approaches.

By including these footnotes, particularly the last one, some readers may find my continued optimism even more surprising. But as we start 2026, I remain optimistic about the days ahead because of two core human capabilities.

The first is our ability to anticipate problems and prepare for them, and therefore ensure that our new discoveries make all of us better off.  The second is our capacity to care about each other. Throughout history, you can always find stories of people tending not just to themselves or their clan or their country but to the greater good.

Those two qualities—foresight and care—are what give me hope as the year begins. As long as we keep exercising those abilities, I believe the years ahead can be ones of real progress.

Two of the things I love most about my job are getting to see amazing innovations and talk to remarkable people. During a recent trip to New York, I got to check both boxes. I met a woman named Papa Blandine Mbwey who is using a revolutionary new invention to help more kids get vaccinated.

Blandine has worked as a vaccinator in a remote part of the Democratic Republic of the Congo for over a decade. Most days, she travels on foot to villages all over her region so she can vaccinate kids who live too far from a health clinic to make the trip themselves.

Blandine’s job is complicated by a simple fact: vaccines must be kept between 2 and 8° C. If they get too warm, they spoil. If they get too cold, the water in them freezes, and they can stop working. Vaccines must stay within this temperature range through each step of what’s called the “cold chain.”

By the time Blandine reaches the children, the vaccines she’s carrying have traveled nearly 5,100 miles. They could have spoiled at any point during that journey, but vaccines are particularly at risk during the last two stops.

First there’s the health clinics where vaccinators like Blandine usually pick up their supply of vaccines. Many of these clinics are in areas with frequent power outages or no electrical grid at all, which means the refrigerators can’t always keep the vaccines cold.

But even if the vaccines survive the clinic, they still need to make it to the children. Most vaccinators carry them in ice-lined coolers. If you’ve used a cooler to keep your drinks cold at a picnic, you know the big problem with ice: it starts melting as soon as you take it out of the freezer. This means that some of the kids never get vaccinated, because coolers can’t keep vaccines cold long enough to reach them.

Several years ago, I asked a group of inventors called Global Good that I support to take on the cold chain problem. They came up with two remarkable innovations that are changing the game for vaccinators like Blandine.

The first is the MetaFridge. Although it looks like a regular refrigerator, MetaFridge has a hidden superpower: it keeps vaccines cold without power for at least five days. The electrical components are designed to keep working through power surges and brown-outs. During extended outages, an easy-to-read screen tells you how much longer it can stay cool without power so health workers know when to run a generator or move vaccines elsewhere. And if the fridge stops working properly, it transmits data remotely to a service team so they can fix it before vaccines are at risk of spoiling.

The other innovation Global Good invented is the Indigo cooler, which is the device you see Blandine using in the video above. It keeps vaccines at the right temperature for at least five days with no ice, no batteries, and no power required during cooling.

It sounds counterintuitive, but the Indigo needs heat before you can use it. When exposed to a heat source, water inside its walls evaporates and moves into a separate compartment. It can then sit on a shelf for months after heating, ready for use.

When it’s finally time to head out to the children, you open a valve, and the water starts moving back where it started. Because the pressure inside the Indigo has been lowered to the point where water evaporates at 5° C, the water particles take heat with them (the way sweating lowers your body temperature) and cool the storage area down to the perfect temperature for vaccine storage.

Both inventions are already making an impact in the field. A Chinese manufacturer started selling the MetaFridge last year, and a new solar-powered version will hit the market soon. One of the biggest surprises so far is just how much we’ve learned from its remote data monitoring capabilities. We knew the electrical grids in sub-Saharan Africa were unreliable, but we now know exactly how much the power fluctuates. This information will be helpful moving forward for health providers and anyone designing a product meant to work in these areas.

The Indigo is in the field trial phase. It’s still early, but the data suggests that the Indigo is allowing vaccinators to reach four times as many places as they could with the old ice-based coolers. That’s a big deal, and I’m excited to learn more.

Keeping vaccines cold when you’re delivering them to the most remote places on earth is a tough problem—and these devices show how innovation can help solve tough problems. I hope MetaFridge and Indigo inspire other inventors to find creative solutions.

The leading cause of death among children under age 5 often begins with little more than a cough.

Followed by chills, fever, and nausea.

And then as the child’s lungs get flooded with fluid, each breath becomes a desperate gasp for air.

What I’m describing is known as pneumonia, an acute respiratory condition that kills over 670,000 children every year.

And here’s a sentence I find difficult to write: Nearly all those deaths could have been prevented.

Access to vaccines, diagnostic tools, and treatments can protect children from deadly pneumonia. But these solutions are often not available or accessible in many low- and middle-income countries, where children are at greatest risk.

Even as child deaths have declined by nearly 50 percent over the past two decades, deaths from pneumonia have remained stubbornly high.

That’s why our foundation is focused on improving access to and development of vaccines that can prevent it.

One of the most exciting areas of progress is the development of a powerful new vaccine designed to protect children against pneumococcal bacteria, which is the leading cause of deadly pneumonia. Of the 670,000 children who die from pneumonia ever year, pneumococcal pneumonia is responsible for killing 400,000 of them.

What makes this new vaccine unique is that it is designed to protect against 25 different types of pneumococcal bacteria, more than any other available vaccine. Existing pneumococcal vaccines protect against about half as many types of pneumococcal pneumonia. To address the remaining deaths from pneumococcal pneumonia, vaccines that offer broader protection like this new vaccine will be needed.

The vaccine, called IVT-PCV25, is being developed by Inventprise, a small biotechnology company based outside Seattle. I recently took a tour of their new vaccine manufacturing plant and got an update on their progress.

It was amazing to see the innovations underway at Inventprise. Making a vaccine that is effectively 25 vaccines in one is an extremely complex challenge. Past efforts to add more strains of pneumococcal bacteria to vaccines using conventional technologies have resulted in vaccines that didn’t produce a strong enough immune response. Inventprise intends to overcome this obstacle with its proprietary vaccine technology that is designed to guard against many types of pneumococcal bacteria without any decline in protection.

Inventprise’s new factory, supported by a grant from our foundation, is a highly automated facility that marks an important step forward in Inventprise’s development of the vaccine. Clinical trials of the vaccine are expected to begin later this year.

For most people, the highly effective mRNA COVID vaccines made by Moderna and Pfizer-BioNTech seemed to come out of the blue. But these new vaccines, which were essential to end this pandemic and will likely play a critical role in preventing future pandemics, are the product of decades of painstaking work by researchers.

One of those researchers is Dr. Katalin Karikó, a Hungarian biochemist who long ago saw the potential of mRNA to save lives when few others did.

The daughter of a small-town butcher in Hungary, Karikó knew from a young age that she wanted to become a scientist. She was drawn to biochemistry and developed a particular fascination with messenger RNA, or mRNA, molecules that (among other things) direct the creation of proteins in your body.

Messenger RNA functions as a kind of middleman—it carries the directions for making proteins from your DNA to the factories in your cells where the proteins will be assembled. It’s a bit like the waiter in a restaurant who writes down your order and takes it to the kitchen, where the cooks will make your meal.

In the 1980s, while working on her PhD in her native Hungary, Karikó became convinced that tiny strands of mRNA could be injected into cells to send instructions to the body to make its own medicines. She was interested in developing mRNA treatments for stroke, cancer, and other diseases.

Although vaccines were not the focus of Karikó’s work, other researchers saw that it would be possible to use mRNA to make those as well—for flu, coronaviruses, and maybe even various forms of cancer.

Using mRNA to make vaccines would be a major departure from the way most vaccines work. Many conventional vaccines operate by injecting a weakened or dead form of the virus you’re trying to stop. Your immune system sees the new shapes on the virus, kicks into gear, and builds up immunity. While conventional vaccines have been very effective, it takes years of lab work and clinical studies to make sure that they are safe and will produce a good immune response.

The idea behind mRNA vaccines was quite clever. Since mRNA takes the orders for proteins from the DNA and delivers them to the cooks in your cells’ kitchen, what if we could change those orders in a very targeted way? By teaching your cells to make shapes that match shapes on the actual virus, the vaccine would trigger your immune system without having to introduce the virus itself.

If they could be made, mRNA vaccines would be a huge advance over conventional vaccines. Once you had mapped out all the proteins that make up the virus you wanted to target, you’d identify the one that you want antibodies to grab. Then you’d study the virus’s genetic code to find the instructions for making that protein, and you’d put that code into the vaccine using mRNA. If, later, you wanted to attack a different protein, you’d just change the mRNA. This design process would take at most a few weeks. You would ask the waiter for fries instead of a side salad, and your immune system would do the rest.

There was just one problem: It was only a theory. No one had ever actually made an mRNA vaccine. What’s more, most people in the field thought it was crazy to even try, not least because mRNA is inherently unstable and prone to degrading quickly. Also, cells have evolved to avoid being hijacked by foreign mRNA, and there would need to be a way of getting around this defense system.

Karikó’s interest in mRNA eventually brought her to the U.S. And in 1993, while doing research at the University of Pennsylvania, Karikó and her boss managed a feat that told them they were on to something: They got a human cell to produce a tiny amount of new proteins using a modified version of mRNA that had been altered so it could get past the cell’s defense system. This was a breakthrough, because it meant that if they could expand the production dramatically, they would be able to make a cancer treatment using mRNA.

Stories of medical discoveries often don’t travel in straight line from breakthrough to lifesaving impact. And Karikó’s story is no different. Karikó’s work lost momentum when her boss left academia for a biotech firm. She no longer had a lab or financial support for her work; although she applied for grant after grant, every application was rejected. In 1995, she had a cancer scare, she was taken off the tenure track at work, and her husband was stuck in Hungary because of a problem with his visa. But Karikó was undeterred.

Then in 1997, she began working with Drew Weissman, a new colleague who came to the University of Pennsylvania with a promising background: He had done a fellowship at NIH under the supervision of Tony Fauci, and he was interested in using Karikó’s work on mRNA to develop vaccines.

Together Karikó and Weissman kept pursuing the idea of working with mRNA that had been engineered in a lab. But they still had to get more mRNA past the cell’s defense systems, a problem that other scientists helped solve. In 1999, a cancer researcher named Pieter Cullis and his colleagues proposed that lipids—basically, tiny bits of fat—could be used to encase and protect a more delicate molecule, such as mRNA. Six years later, working with Cullis, biochemist Ian MacLachlan did it for the first time. The lipid nanoparticles he developed paved the way for the first mRNA vaccines.

As late as 2010, hardly anyone in the federal government or private industry was interested in trying to make vaccines using mRNA. Major pharmaceutical companies had tried and failed, and some scientists felt that mRNA would never trigger enough of a response in the body. But an official at DARPA, the little-known research program for the U.S. military, saw enough promise in the technology that he started funding mRNA vaccines for infectious diseases.

As pioneering as this work was, it didn’t lead immediately to new vaccines. Accomplishing that would be the task of companies dedicated to translating the breakthrough into a product that could be approved and sold; the U.S.-based Moderna and Germany-based CureVac and BioNTech were founded to do just that.

In 2014, Karikó joined BioNTech, which was working on an mRNA vaccine for cancer. Early efforts didn’t work, although a test of a rabies vaccine showed promise. Still, Karikó and her BioNTech colleagues persevered, as did scientists at Moderna. When COVID hit, they immediately set out to make a vaccine for the new virus. It was a good bet.

The notion that mapping a virus’s genome would allow you to create an mRNA vaccine in a matter of weeks proved to be exactly right. In March 2020, just six weeks after scientists sequenced the COVID virus’s genome, Moderna announced that it had identified an mRNA-based candidate and begun making it for clinical trials. On December 31, the mRNA vaccine made by BioNTech in partnership with Pfizer was approved for emergency use by the World Health Organization. When Karikó received the first dose of the vaccine she had done so much to create—a few days before it was officially approved—she wept.

For all her amazing foresight, I doubt even Dr. Karikó imagined that mRNA vaccines would one day play an essential role in ending a pandemic – and giving us a tool to prevent the next one. And to me, that’s the important lesson of her story: It’s impossible to predict exactly how breakthroughs will shape the future. That’s why it’s critical, if the science makes sense, that we should be willing to bet on crazy sounding ideas and the researchers like Dr. Kariko willing to fight tooth and nail to pursue them. They just might change the world.

I’ve been working in global health for 25 years—that’s as long as I was the CEO of Microsoft. At this point, I know as much about improving health in poor countries as I do about software. 

I’ve spent a quarter-century building teams of experts at the Gates Foundation and visiting low-income countries to see the work. I’ve funded studies about the effectiveness of health aid and pored over the results. I’ve met people who were on the brink of dying of AIDS until American-funded medicines brought them back. And I’ve met heroic health workers and government leaders who made the best possible use of this aid: They saved lives. 

The more I’ve learned, the more committed I’ve become. I believe so strongly in the value of global health that I’m dedicating the rest of my life to it, as well as most of the $200 billion the foundation will give away over the next 20 years.  

People in global health argue about a lot of things, but here’s one thing everyone agrees on: Health aid saves lives. It has helped cut the number of children who die each year by more than half since 2000. The number used to be more than 9 million a year; now it’s fewer than 5 million. That’s incontrovertible.  

So when the United States and other governments suddenly cut their aid budgets the way they've been doing, I know for a fact that more children will die. We’re already seeing the tragic impact of reductions in aid, and we know the number of deaths will continue to rise.

A study in the Lancet looked at the cumulative impact of reductions in American aid. It found that, by 2040, 8 million more children will die before their fifth birthday. To give some context for 8 million: That's how many children live in California, Texas, Florida, New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio combined. 

I’ve submitted written testimony on this topic, which you can read below, for the Senate Appropriations Committee hearing occurring later today. In it, I discuss what’s already happened and what needs to happen next.

Testimony to the United States Senate Committee on Appropriations
June 25, 2025

Over the past 25 years—the same span of time I spent leading Microsoft—I have immersed myself in global health: building knowledge, deepening expertise, and working to save lives from deadly diseases and preventable causes. During that time, I have built teams of world-class scientists and public health experts at the Gates Foundation, studied health systems across continents, and worked in close partnership with national and local leaders to strengthen the delivery of lifesaving care. I have visited hundreds of clinics, listened to frontline health workers, and spoken with people who rely on these programs. Earlier this month, I traveled to Ethiopia and Nigeria, where I witnessed firsthand the impact that recent disruptions to U.S. global health funding are having on lives and communities.

Global health aid saves lives. And when that aid is withdrawn—abruptly and without a plan—lives are lost.

Yet, in recent months, some have questioned whether the foreign assistance pause has caused harm. Concerns about the human impact of these disruptions have been dismissed as overstated. Some people have even claimed that no one is dying as a result.

I wish that were true. But it is not.

It is important to note that while this hearing is about the Trump Administration’s $9 billion recission package, what is really at stake is tens of billions of dollars in critical aid and health research that has been frozen by DOGE with complete disregard for the Congress and its Constitutional power of the purse.

In the early weeks of implementing the foreign aid freeze, DOGE directives resulted in the dismissal of nearly all United States Agency for International Development (USAID) staff and many personnel at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). Some funding was later restored to allow for the continuation of what has been categorized as "lifesaving" programs. However, to date that designation has been applied narrowly and with limited transparency, in an inconsistent manner, often prioritizing emergency interventions when a patient is already in critical condition over essential preventative or supportive care.

For example, providing a child with a preventive antimalarial treatment, ensuring access to nutrition so that HIV/AIDS medications can be properly administered, testing pregnant women for HIV to see if they are eligible for treatment to prevent transmission to their children or identifying and treating tuberculosis cases early have not consistently qualified for exemption. As a result, many of the programs delivering these services have been suspended, delayed, or scaled back.

Recent reporting from the New York Times has shed light on the devastating human cost of the abrupt aid cuts. One especially tragic example is Peter Donde, a 10-year-old orphan in South Sudan, born with HIV, who died in February after losing his access to life-saving medication when USAID operations were suspended. His story is one of many.

During my recent visit to Nigeria, I met with leaders from local nonprofit organizations previously funded by the United States. One group shared the remarkable progress they had made in tuberculosis detection and treatment. In just a few years, case identification increased from 25 percent to 80 percent, a critical step toward breaking transmission and reducing the overall disease burden. That progress has now stalled. The grants that enabled this work were tied to USAID staff who have been dismissed, and with their departure, the funding ended, and the work stopped.

The broader effects of these sudden shifts are difficult to overstate. For example, funding for polio eradication has been preserved in the State Department budget but cut from the CDC—even though the two agencies collaborate closely on the program. This type of fragmented decision-making has left implementing organizations uncertain about staffing and operations. Many no longer feel confident that promised U.S. funds will materialize, even when awards have been announced. In some cases, staff continue to work without pay. Some organizations are approaching insolvency.

Meanwhile, in warehouses across the globe, food aid and medical supplies sourced from American producers are sitting idle—spoiling or approaching expiration—because the systems that once distributed them have been disrupted. Clinics are closing. Health workers are being laid off. HIV/AIDS patients are missing critical doses of medication. Malaria prevention campaigns, including bed net distributions and indoor spraying, have been delayed or canceled, leaving hundreds of millions of people unprotected at the peak of transmission season.

Efforts to track data that would illustrate the severity of this worsening crisis have also been severely compromised. Many of the people responsible for collecting and reporting health information—health workers, statisticians, and program managers—have been laid off or placed on leave. The systems that once monitored health outcomes are shutting down, and the offices where that data was once analyzed now sit empty. As a result, the true scope of the harm is becoming harder to measure, just as the need for information is most urgent.

The situation we face is not about political ideology, and it is not a debate over fiscal responsibility. U.S. government spending on global health accounts for just 0.2 percent of the federal budget. Shutting down USAID did nothing to reduce the deficit. In fact, the deficit has grown in the months since.

Furthermore, many of the allegations regarding waste, fraud, and abuse have proven to be unsubstantiated. For example, the widely circulated claim that USAID sent millions of dollars’ worth of condoms to the Gaza Strip is inaccurate. In fact, the Wall Street Journal reported that the program allocated approximately $27,000 for condoms as part of an HIV transmission prevention initiative—not in the Middle East, but in Gaza Province, Mozambique.

What we are witnessing because of the rapid dismantling of America’s global health infrastructure is a preventable, human-caused humanitarian crisis—one that is growing more severe by the day. DOGE made a deadly mistake by cutting health aid and laying off so many people. But it is not too late to undo some of the damage.

A Record of Progress—and What is at Risk

Since 2000, child mortality worldwide has been cut in half. Deaths from HIV/AIDS, tuberculosis, and malaria have declined significantly. And we are on the verge of eradicating only the second human disease in history: polio. These are not abstract statistics; they represent tens of millions of lives saved. None of this progress would have been possible without consistent, bipartisan U.S. leadership and investment.

Over the past several decades, the United States has built one of its most strategic global assets: a respected and robust public health presence. This leadership is not just a humanitarian achievement—it is a core pillar of American soft power and security. For example, a Stanford study analyzing 258 global surveys across 45 countries found that U.S. health aid is strongly linked to improved public opinion of the United States. In countries and years where U.S. health aid was highest, the probability of people having a very favorable view of the United States was 19 percentage points higher. Other forms of aid—like military or governance—did not have the same effect. Another example is the 2014 Ebola outbreak in West Africa. The rapid deployment of U.S. scientists, health workers, and CDC teams helped contain the virus before it could spread globally. Their presence allowed the U.S. to help shape the response strategy, speed up containment, and prevent a wider outbreak. Many African countries are facing the dual burden of rising debt and pressing health needs, forcing painful choices between repaying creditors, and protecting their citizens. Helping them navigate this challenge is not just the right thing to do—it is a strategic imperative. If the United States retreats, others will fill the gap, and not all of them will bring our values, our priorities, or our interests to the table. Preserving American global influence will require restoring the staff, systems, and resources that underpin it—before the damage becomes irreversible.

I understand the fiscal pressures facing Congress. I recognize the need to prioritize spending and to hold programs accountable for results. I also share the Trump Administration’s commitment to promoting efficiency and encouraging country-led solutions. But I believe those goals can—and must—be pursued while still protecting the programs that deliver the highest return on investment and the greatest impact on human lives.

The United States’ support for Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance; the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis, and Malaria; the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR); and the Global Polio Eradication Initiative (GPEI) represent some of the smartest, most effective investments our country has ever made. These initiatives are proven, strategically aligned with American interests, and cost-effective on a scale few other government programs can match.

Together, Gavi and the Global Fund have helped save more than 82 million lives. Gavi has helped halve childhood deaths in the world’s poorest countries and returns an estimated $54 for every $1 invested. The Global Fund has contributed to a 61% reduction in deaths from HIV/AIDS, TB, and malaria. PEPFAR has saved over 26 million lives and helped millions of children be born HIV-free. GPEI has brought us closer than ever to the eradication of polio. Pulling back now would not only jeopardize these historic gains—it would invite a resurgence of preventable disease, deepen global instability, and undermine decades of bipartisan American leadership.

This is not a forever funding stream for the U.S. Government. These programs set out clear pathways for countries to “graduate” from aid, which many have already done. For example, nineteen countries, including Viet Nam and Indonesia, have successfully graduated from Gavi support and now fully finance their own immunization programs. Others—from Bangladesh to Cote d'Ivoire—are on track to do the same. This is how U.S. development policy should work: catalytic, cost effective, and designed to help countries become self-reliant and drive their own progress. I agree that aid funding should have an end date, but not overnight. The most effective path to that end date is innovation. By investing in the development and delivery of new medical tools and treatments, we can drive down the cost of care, and in some cases, make diseases that were once a death sentence treatable, or even curable. Advances in therapies for chronic conditions like sickle cell disease, HIV, or certain types of cancers could transform lives and health systems. American innovation offers a sustainable exit strategy—one that reduces long-term costs, allows the United States to responsibly step back, and builds lasting trust and good will that far exceed the original investment.

Over the past 25 years, the Gates Foundation has invested nearly $16 billion in global health partnerships like Gavi, the Global Fund, and GPEI. We will continue to invest, through innovation, research, and close coordination with partners. But no private institution—or coalition of them—can replace the scale, reach, or authority of the U.S. government in delivering lifesaving impact at the global level.

The decisions made in the coming weeks will shape not only the lives saved in the near term—but the legacy of American leadership for generations to come.

Download a PDF of the testimony with appendices that include reflections from Gates Foundation staff in Africa on the impact of the U.S. aid cuts; analytical projections from respected organizations; and a selection of first-hand reporting from reputable news organizations and journalists.

In 1997, I came across a New York Times column by Nick Kristof that stopped me in my tracks. The headline was “For Third World, Water Is Still a Deadly Drink,” and it included a statistic I almost didn’t believe: Diarrhea was killing 3.1 million people every year—most of them kids under the age of five.

I didn’t know much about the problem back then, except that it seemed so solvable. After all, in rich countries it felt like it already had been. My oldest daughter was a toddler at the time, and we never worried that an upset stomach would kill her. None of the other parents I knew worried about that either.

But in much of the world, kids without clean drinking water or basic sanitation were constantly being exposed to rotavirus, cholera, shigella, typhoid, and more—dangerous pathogens that spread easily when toilets are scarce and water is contaminated.

Nick’s column ended up changing my life. I sent it to my dad with a note: “Maybe we can do something about this.” He agreed. And after he traveled to Bangladesh to see the problem firsthand, we made a $40 million investment in vaccine research for diarrheal diseases. That grant helped shape what would become the Gates Foundation—and kickstarted decades of progress that’s now saved millions of lives.

Within a few years, I stepped away from Microsoft to focus on this work full-time. Once you’ve seen what’s possible in global health, it’s hard to do anything else.

When we first got involved, diarrhea was one of the biggest killers of kids worldwide. But over the past two and a half decades, these deaths have dropped by more than 70 percent.

The biggest breakthrough came from making vaccines for rotavirus, the leading cause of severe diarrhea and death in kids, affordable and accessible. When the vaccines first debuted in the early 2000s, they were priced at around $200 per dose—which meant they were completely out of reach for most families in most of the world. So the foundation partnered with vaccine manufacturers in India like Bharat Biotech and Serum Institute to develop high-quality, low-cost alternatives. Today, rotavirus protection costs about a dollar.

But getting the vaccines developed was only half the challenge. The other half was getting them to the kids who needed them most.

That’s where Gavi came in. The organization was set up a few years earlier to help low-income countries pay for lifesaving vaccines that had existed for decades but weren’t reaching the world’s poorest. But they were well-positioned to do the same with a new vaccine, and they did—purchasing the rotavirus vaccine for millions of children and supporting countries as they added it to their routine immunization programs. USAID played a huge role in this work, too, by helping local governments train community health workers and strengthen their vaccine delivery systems. Meanwhile, public health campaigns promoted treatments like oral rehydration salts and zinc supplements that can save a sick child's life for pennies. (Think of it as the medical-grade equivalent of Pedialyte.)

As all this was happening, countries quietly made enormous progress on clean water and sanitation too. Since 1990, 2.6 billion people around the world have gained access to safe drinking water—and the number of people who now have basic sanitation similarly has skyrocketed. These improvements help break a cycle where kids get sick, recover, and then get reinfected a few weeks later.

Despite the incredible progress, around 340,000 kids under five are still dying from diarrhea each year.

Part of the problem is that many kids still don't get vaccinated. Some live in places where health systems are weak or vaccines are hard to transport and store. Others are caught in conflict zones that make it dangerous for health workers to reach them.

And new challenges make the fight against diarrheal diseases even harder than it was 25 years ago. Shigella—one of the nastiest bacterial causes of diarrhea—is becoming more and more resistant to antibiotics, and we still don't have a vaccine. Climate change is making cholera and typhoid outbreaks more frequent, as floods contaminate water supplies and droughts force people to drink from unclean, unsafe sources.

For malnourished kids, everything is harder: They're more vulnerable to diarrheal diseases in the first place, and their damaged digestive tracts don't respond as well to oral vaccines or treatments. For families barely scraping by, diarrhea is both a medical crisis and an economic disaster. Parents miss work to care for sick kids. Kids miss school. Expenses pile up. It's one of the ways that disease keeps families trapped in poverty—and one of the reasons that a country’s public health is key to its development.

The encouraging news is that there’s a promising pipeline of innovations that builds on what we already know and could save even more lives.

At the foundation, we’re supporting scientists who are working on a vaccine for Shigella, which has become the leading bacterial cause of childhood diarrhea. We’re also funding efforts to combine different vaccines into a single shot, which would lower costs and make things easier for health workers and kids alike.

New delivery methods could make a big difference too. One example: vaccine patches for measles that don’t require needles, refrigeration, or trained staff to administer them. Just peel, stick, and protect. 

We've already learned a lot about how chronic infections damage kids’ guts and make it harder for them to absorb nutrients or respond to vaccines. Now, scientists are researching how to repair that damage, which could help the sickest kids recover faster.

And outside the lab, environmental monitoring tools are being developed to detect early signs of outbreaks—by regularly testing sewage for typhoid, for instance. It’s like having an early warning system for epidemics.

We can’t afford to look away now

I’ve been talking about diarrhea for 25 years, even though it makes some people squeamish, because it’s a microcosm of global health. It’s proof that the world can come together to solve big problems. When we refuse to accept that some children won’t make it to their fifth birthday, we can save millions of lives.

But it’s also a warning of what can happen when we look away.

Right now, global health funding is being slashed around the world. According to one estimate, cuts to aid from the U.S. have already led to almost 60,000 additional childhood deaths from diarrhea. If nothing changes, by next January that number could rise to 126,000. These are projections, not final counts, but the reality is undeniable: When lifesaving programs are eliminated, kids pay the price.

Diarrhea is one of the most solvable problems in global health. We’ve come a long way, but we’re not done yet.  

What do Adirondack chairs, Stetson hats, the city of Pasadena, and World War I have in common? According to John Green, all of their origin stories include tuberculosis.

In his new book, John argues that it’s impossible to separate the deadliest disease in history from, well, the rest of history. Adirondack chairs were designed by a man who vacationed in the New York mountains—a popular spot for TB patients seeking fresh air—and soon became staples of sanatorium porches across the country. John B. Stetson, who had TB himself, traveled west for dry mountain air and invented the cowboy hat to protect from sun, wind, and rain. Pasadena became a hub for TB treatment in the late 1800s, and TB “tourism” was a major driver of the city’s early economy, real estate, and identity. And the teenage assassins who killed Archduke Franz Ferdinand, which kicked off World War I? They were more willing to die for their cause since they were already dying of TB. 

No wonder John calls this book Everything Is Tuberculosis. In so many ways, TB shaped the world we live in. Even though the disease is now both rare and treatable in rich countries, in poorer places it’s on the rise and still a death sentence for so many.  

John is best known as the author of some of the best young adult novels of all time (at least according to my daughter Phoebe, whose encouragement led me to read The Fault in Our Stars and Turtles All the Way Down). So a lot of people were surprised when he announced that his next book would be about global health—about a disease most people in the western world think of in the past tense.

I wasn’t. After all, I first met John over a decade ago, when he joined me on a Gates Foundation trip to Ethiopia. While traveling, we talked about a lot of the big questions John wrestles with in Everything Is Tuberculosis—like why the place a person is born influences their odds of surviving childhood (or childbirth), and what people like us can do to increase those odds.

Since then, John has been an invaluable partner to the foundation, bringing his curiosity and clarity to our events and helping raise awareness of our work. But he’s also become a powerful advocate for global health in his own right. I don’t know anyone else who could turn a book about tuberculosis into a number one New York Times bestseller.

Everything Is Tuberculosis is poignant, smart, and at times infuriating. At its heart is the story of a boy named Henry, whom John met at a TB clinic in Sierra Leone. Henry was just six when he started showing classic signs of the disease: fatigue, weight loss, night sweats. But the first tests he got came back negative, so he was sent home from the hospital. By the time he was eventually diagnosed, Henry was already very sick.

He began treatment with the standard cocktail of decades-old antibiotics. It’s a brutal regimen that involves months of pills, painful injections, constant side effects—and, once the infection starts to subside, aching hunger from having an appetite again. The drugs only work if they’re taken consistently and on schedule, but that’s often unrealistic for patients. In much of the world, TB treatment means walking miles to a clinic, missing work or school, going into debt, and facing social stigma and isolation. Even though Henry’s mom did everything she could to support him, there were interruptions to his treatment, and eventually the TB became drug-resistant.

In the end, Henry got lucky. Even as he got sicker and ran out of options, his doctors wouldn’t give up on him. They fought to get him access to a personalized drug regimen—something that’s rarely available to kids in poor countries. That care ended up saving his life, and today Henry is thriving. After years stuck in the hospital, he’s caught up academically and now in university (and even has a YouTube channel where he shares his journey and advocates for other TB patients). John doesn’t romanticize Henry’s story as some kind of miracle. Instead, he uses it as proof: that TB is curable, that good care works, and that the real question isn’t whether we can save lives—but whether we’re willing to make that care available to everyone.

Even though John finished writing the book last year, he nails the urgency of this moment. He shows how a disease that most people in rich countries have forgotten is still killing over a million people a year, and how easily that number could keep climbing. That’s especially true now, as foreign aid cuts disrupt TB care across the globe. Henry might not be alive today if it weren’t for organizations like Partners In Health—funded in part by U.S. health aid—which fought to get him the treatment he needed. These aid cuts will be devastating for kids like him, who may lose access to treatment altogether. They’ll also lead to more interrupted care, more cases, more drug resistance, and more strains of an infectious disease that will be harder and more expensive for the entire world to contain.

This is a book about the central challenge of global health today: the reality that, in John’s words, “the cure is where the disease is not, and the disease is where the cure is not.”

A book about tuberculosis could be pretty boring, but John makes it super compelling by weaving in TB’s long and strange history, from the myth that it only afflicted white people, to the theory that it inspired creative genius, to its influence on Victorian beauty standards. (I didn’t know about those last two… or the Stetson hats.) If you’re familiar with John’s work, this approach won’t surprise you. He has a gift for getting people to care about things they might not think are “for me,” whether that’s poetry, astrophysics, or infectious disease.

John ends Everything Is Tuberculosis with a stirring call to action. He makes the case that saving lives from TB isn’t really a scientific challenge anymore; it’s a moral one. I largely agree. But I also think there are more reasons for hope than the book lets on.

While John is clear-eyed about the failures of the past and present—the slow pace of progress, the sky-high prices of new TB drugs, the inequality that determines who gets treated and who doesn’t—he doesn’t spend much time on what comes next. Having spent the last two-and-a-half decades investing in the science behind TB care through the Gates Foundation, I’ve seen a different side of the story. I know what’s in the pipeline, and I know what’s possible.

Today, we’re closer than ever to breakthroughs that could change everything about how we treat and even prevent TB: shorter drug regimens, better diagnostics, and even vaccines. These tools will only make a difference if they’re affordable enough to reach kids like Henry. But I think it’s important to recognize that the companies often criticized for pricing are also, ironically, the only ones that have been willing to invest in TB at all. We need to keep working with them as partners, keep the innovation coming, and keep bringing costs down.

If we do, we can make Henry’s story of survival the norm, not the exception—and make tuberculosis a disease of the past, not the future.

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.”

I’ve been giving speeches about vaccines for 25 years. After so much time, it could have become routine for me. But it never has.

One reason is that the impact of vaccines—a single dose can protect a child from deadly diseases forever—is like a miracle to me, and who gets tired of talking about miracles?

The other reason is tied to this particular moment. There’s never been a point in the past 25 years when more lives hung in the balance. In all likelihood, 2025 will be the first year since the turn of the century when the number of children dying will go up instead of down. 

Why? Governments are cutting health aid—including funds for Gavi, the vaccine organization that the Gates Foundation helped start. As a result, Gavi will likely not have all the money it needs to fund its next five years of work. 

So when I spoke this week at a summit in Brussels where donors committed a new round of funding for Gavi, I focused on why it’s so important to keep the money flowing and maintain our momentum on vaccines. You can read my remarks below.

Remarks as delivered
June 25, 2025
Global Summit: Health & Prosperity through Immunisation
Brussels, Belgium

Good evening, and thank you to everyone joining us here tonight—and for all your support for one of the most transformative efforts in the world.

I want to particularly thank President von der Leyen and President Costa, and the European Union, for co-hosting this summit. President von der Leyen has long been an incredible champion for health and development, and the EU has been one of the Gavi's biggest supporters since the very beginning—support that's more crucial now than ever.

This chart is one that I think about a lot. It's really my most favorite chart. And I consider it almost kind of a report card for humanity. Because over the last 25 years, the reduction of under-five deaths has been far faster than any time in history. We've gone from over 9 million to now half as many deaths taking place by children. This is an unbelievable result.

And it doesn't fully state the benefit of these vaccines. The vaccines leave a lot of kids far more healthy, and so their ability to achieve their potential is increased.

Gavi prioritizes saving lives, and it's done with incredible scientific rigor. We're constantly improving vaccines. We're constantly looking at the safety, and I'm very proud of the work that's done to make sure that these vaccines are incredibly safe.

The founding of Gavi actually goes back to about the time the Gates Foundation was first started. And after 25 years, I can still say that it's at the top of the list of things that I'm very, very proud of. At that time, kids were not getting access to vaccines. They were too expensive. They hadn't been formulated properly. And I was stunned to learn that so many kids were dying from a disease like rotavirus because the vaccine wasn't getting out to all the children of the world.

So Gavi was created to not only help finance vaccines, but work with countries to adopt these new vaccines.

We've done an amazing job of getting these prices down. A good example is the pneumococcal vaccine, PCV. This vaccine became available in high-income countries the year that Gavi was founded. And it does a fantastic job of protecting kids against pneumonia, which was the single most deadly childhood infection. But it was very expensive.

And so Gavi and its partners incentivized vaccine manufacturers to develop a new, much cheaper PCV, which was introduced in 2017. Today, the manufacturers make PCV vaccines available to low-and middle-income countries for just $2 a dose.

And of course, we've seen similar reductions across all of the different vaccines, allowing us to add new vaccines to save even more children.

Since the founding of Gavi, the overall cost of fully vaccinating a child has been cut in more than half.

And we have a pipeline of new vaccines coming along, vaccines to address new diseases and that bring down costs even further.

A good example of this is the HPV vaccine. Cervical cancer, which HPV prevents, is the fourth most common cancer in women around the world. And this vaccine can prevent over 90% of these cases.

But countries were slow to adopt this vaccine, in part because it was hard to deliver: initially, it required three doses spread across six months.

Scientists believed that perhaps it could be done with fewer doses. And so the Gates Foundation funded a trial to see whether a single dose was essentially fully protective. And after seeing the incredible results, the WHO approved a single dose schedule in 2022.

Now, we have 75 countries around the world that have moved to this single dose approach.

And because the single dose is cheaper and easier to deliver, it's now getting to far more girls around the world. For example, after Nigeria introduced the single-dose vaccine, it was able to vaccinate more than 12 million girls in less than a year. That's really incredible.

Across Gavi countries, HPV vaccine coverage has increased dramatically. The year after this single-dose approval, we doubled the number of girls getting the vaccine. And [the next year] we doubled it again, and this year we'll double it again.

There's more than just making vaccines available. We have to work with our partner countries on helping improve their health systems. So the Gavi Alliance has spent a lot of its resources and a lot of its technical support in helping improve those primary health care systems, which are so vital. We've helped countries understand where they're missing kids and how to invest in raising those coverage levels.

As you've heard, over this 25-year period, that means over a billion children have been vaccinated—resulting in the saving of over 19 million lives.

Nineteen million is a big number. It's almost easier to understand if I just say: okay, here's a child whose life was saved. But you have to take your reaction to how valuable that is and multiply it by this absolutely gigantic number.

The total cost to save those lives was about $22 billion. And that means that Gavi saved children's lives for only about $1,000 per life saved.

And in addition, the kids who these vaccines have kept healthy not only go to school; they do well in school. They join the economy. They contribute to their country. And really, this is why improving health through vaccines is part of the formula for helping countries be self-sufficient.

Gavi's vaccination has generated $250 billion in economic benefits in the countries it supports. In fact, Gavi has had such an extraordinary economic benefit that over 19 countries that were Gavi recipients have now graduated, meaning they now fully fund their own immunization programs.

A great example is Indonesia. Since partnering with Gavi, it’s doubled the number of vaccines offered through its routine immunization program—and it’s seen childhood deaths fall to a quarter of what they were before. And now, Indonesia is not only transitioning to be fully self-supportive—it’s also become a Gavi donor.

Of course, this is a challenging time. All the progress we’ve made is at risk. Budgets are tight, and we all have to show our priorities when there’s tough trade-offs to be made.

There’s no denying: this is a global health crisis. Between the U.S. cuts and other funding cuts, in total, aid in total has gone down by 30 billion this year alone. It reinforces the incredible values being shown by the people who are showing up here today and being incredibly generous.

But with the cut in health resources, along with the financial situation a lot of these low-income countries are in, we are going to have a few years where things will go backwards.

As we think about this, think of a mother who will bring a baby wheezing for breath to a help center, and because the vaccines aren't available, that baby will not survive.

Think of a health worker trying to deal with a measles outbreak who, because there's less resources for that primary health care system or vaccines, that measles epidemic will continue.

This is agonizing. I mean, we have to put ourselves in the position of the parents who lose these children and how tough it must be for them to realize that the life could have been saved by a vaccine that costs just 30 cents.

So though our trend lines will briefly go into reverse, I believe that we can come back. I believe that we will resume that incredible progress that you saw.

I don't know if it'll be in two years or four years or six years, but I do know that as we bring these resources back, and we take advantage of an incredible pipeline of innovation, new drugs, new vaccines—lots of amazing things to help with these diseases—we will resume progress.

So everyone here, I'd say, is recommitting themselves, just like the Gates Foundation, to doubling down and staying committed.

You know, I'm not pessimistic. In fact, we have things like polio eradication that we are, as we say, this close to elimination. That'll be a mind-blowing thing. Likewise, malaria: we have tools, a variety of tools that brought together will give us a chance in the next 20 years to completely eradicate that as a disease, just like we're doing with polio.

This is all why the Gates Foundation is pledging $1. 6 billion to Gavi for this next five-year period. Thank you.

And it's why we'll invest billions in making sure that pipeline of new and lower-cost vaccines continues to make Gavi even more effective.

In closing, I think we can reflect on what Nelson Mandela once said: “There can be no keener revelation of a society's soul than the way it treats its children.”

In the last 25 years, Gavi has helped over a billion children live better, healthier lives—thanks to the extraordinary support of partners like you.

If we get this right, this trajectory of progress will continue for decades to come.

Thank you.

If you’re a big reader, you can probably point to a book or two that changed the course of your life. For me, it was a 1997 New York Times column by Nicholas Kristof about diarrhea, which was killing three million kids a year.

At the time, I had wealth—and knew I planned to give it away—but no clear mission. Nick’s article gave me one. I faxed it to my dad with a note: “Maybe we can do something about this.”

That ended up setting the direction for what became the Gates Foundation. It didn’t just give us a what—it gave us a how. Nick’s reporting showed us that the biggest challenge in global health isn’t always discovering new breakthroughs. Often, it’s making sure the tools we already have—vaccines, medicines, bed nets, or oral rehydration therapies for rotavirus—reach every child, no matter where they’re born.

Reading Nick’s new memoir, Chasing Hope, brought me back to that moment and showed me how it fit into the bigger story of his life. The book is a deeply personal account of a life spent documenting injustice and refusing to look away, whether it’s genocide in Darfur, refugee camps in Sudan, or the streets of his hometown in rural Oregon.

Nick’s impulse to go where the suffering is, and to make people care, has defined his career. He’s reported from more than 150 countries, covering war, poverty, health, and human rights. He and his longtime collaborator and wife, Sheryl WuDunn, won a Pulitzer Prize for their work. Together and individually, they’ve brought injustices around the world into view for millions of readers.

But Chasing Hope isn’t just a greatest-hits collection of his past reporting. It’s the story of how someone becomes Nick Kristof. He writes about growing up on a sheep and cherry farm in Oregon, driving tractors as a teenager, and nearly becoming a lawyer before deciding on journalism. He also reflects on the toll his career has taken on him, his family, and his capacity for hope.

I’ve known Nick for many years now, and I’ve admired his work since that 1997 rotavirus column. On paper, we don’t seem all that similar. He’s a journalist, I’m a technologist; he tells stories, I talk numbers. But reading Chasing Hope, I was struck by what we have in common: growing up in the Pacific Northwest, learning about the value of service from our parents, thinking globally.

We both attended Harvard and left early—me because I dropped out, him because he graduated in three years before heading to Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar. But neither of us ever stopped learning. I think we both believe the world’s pretty interesting if you remain a student.

Nick’s curiosity didn’t come out of nowhere, and neither did his sense of purpose. His mother was an art history professor and a civic leader who helped influence local politics. His father, a political science professor who fled both Nazism and communism, believed deeply in education and the responsibilities that come with freedom. That kind of upbringing left a mark on him and shaped the kind of journalist he became.

Over decades, he’s built a career reporting on crises that are often ignored because they happen in far-off places, far from centers of power. In Chasing Hope, he recounts his experiences chronicling river blindness in Ethiopia, maternal mortality in Cameroon, and malaria in Cambodia. Through the foundation, I mobilize science, data, and funding to address many of the same global challenges Nick reports on. Our approaches are different, but the underlying questions we ask (and try to answer) are the same: Why are some lives valued less than others? And how can we use the tools we have—information, resources, attention—to close that gap?

Nick has an admirable commitment to nuance, especially when it comes to hard subjects like China. Nick lived there for years, speaks Mandarin, and understands the country in a way most Western commentators don’t. I’ve always appreciated his ability to go beyond the headlines—and focus not just on what’s going wrong, but on what’s changing and why it matters.

Nick is also an optimist, which might sound strange given the kinds of suffering he writes about. But his work is grounded in a belief I share: The right data—or the right story—can move people to act. As Nick puts it, “A central job of a journalist is to get people to care about some problem that may seem remote.” People, when given the chance, want to make things better. Progress, while never guaranteed, is possible.

That optimism feels especially important, if increasingly difficult, right now. Isolationism is on the rise around the world, and governments are cutting back on foreign aid at the very moment when we should be doing more, not less. Millions of lives are at stake. Nick’s work reminds us what’s possible when we care about people beyond our own borders—and what happens when we don’t.

Chasing Hope made me think a lot about what kind of person chooses to run toward the hardest problems—and keep going back until they’re solved. It also made me think the world would be a much better place if there were more Nick Kristofs. In the meantime, we’re lucky to have this one.

In a few days, I’ll be traveling to India—my third visit in three years. India is a place where big challenges meet even bigger ambitions, and where innovation is transforming lives at an incredible scale. Every time I’m there, I see firsthand how much progress is being made in public health, agriculture, and technology. And I come away with new ideas, because India is full of smart, ambitious people tackling some of the world’s hardest problems in creative ways.

This visit will also be significant because—as we mark our 25^th anniversary—the Gates Foundation’s Board of Trustees is meeting in the Global South for the first time. India is the right place for this milestone. The foundation has been working in the country for more than two decades, partnering with the government, researchers, and entrepreneurs to improve health and development. Today, India is home to some of the most impactful programs we’ve contributed to, from disease eradication and sanitation to women’s empowerment and digital financial services. This trip will give me a chance to see what’s working, what’s changing, and what’s next—for India and the foundation.

India’s track record in public health shows what’s possible. When I visited in 2011, it was one of the last places in the world still fighting polio. But that year, after relentless effort, India recorded its last case—and it’s remained polio-free ever since. Avahan, the HIV prevention program launched by the Gates Foundation two decades ago, is another success story. It pioneered a community-led approach to reduce infection rates that complemented the government’s efforts in high-prevalence states; eventually, management of the program transitioned to the Indian government, becoming part of the country’s broader health strategy.

That same model—leveraging local leadership, innovative solutions and data-driven insights—is now driving India’s fight against tuberculosis. The country has the world’s highest TB burden, but its investment in new diagnostics, AI-powered detection tools, and improved treatment strategies is accelerating progress toward elimination.

India’s success in childhood immunization is another reason I’m eager to return and learn more. Over the past several years, the country has scaled up routine vaccination programs, ensuring every major childhood vaccine is available. It has also used digital dashboards to track vaccine coverage, monitor cold storage, and improve maternal and child healthcare. These efforts have helped drive down mortality rates and create a stronger health system that can respond to new challenges.

India’s global health leadership is also transforming how the country approaches diagnostics and treatment for infectious diseases. As a result, it’s become a leader in low-cost vaccine manufacturing, ensuring that life-saving vaccines are available around the world. Indian companies are also tackling another critical challenge: making diagnostics more affordable. One effort I’m following closely is the push to make a saliva-based TB test for under $2, which could help millions of people in India and globally detect the disease earlier and get treatment faster.

Beyond health, India is also at the forefront of digital transformation. I’ve written before about how digital public infrastructure (DPI)—like Aadhaar and India’s digital payments system—has made it easier for millions of people to access banking, healthcare, and government services. Now, India is using AI-powered DPI tools to help rural health workers improve early disease detection, optimize pregnancy care, and manage patient data more effectively.

AI is also transforming agriculture across the country. When I was in Odisha last year, I saw farmers using AI-powered tools to predict weather patterns, choose crops, and reduce disease risks. I’m looking forward to seeing how much better those tools have gotten in the short time since.

What makes India’s progress so transformative, though, is that it doesn’t just benefit India. During India’s G20 Presidency in 2023, Prime Minister Modi declared his intent to make Indian innovations and know-how available to solve development problems globally. And that’s exactly what is happening. The solutions being developed there, from vaccine manufacturing to AI-powered diagnostics, are being shared with the world. Indian companies are making TB tests that could be game-changing across Africa. They’re developing AI models that could help farmers across Asia. And they’re proving that digital technology can make healthcare work better for everyone, especially the most vulnerable.

At the Gates Foundation, we tackle tough problems by working in close partnership with the people and governments most affected by them. India has been an incredible partner in this work because of the country’s deep expertise and willingness to develop and scale new ideas. The challenges remain: eliminating TB, improving nutrition, expanding access to AI-driven health and development services. But India has shown time and again that progress happens when innovation, local leadership, and investment come together.

That’s why I’m so excited for this trip. I’ll be meeting with government leaders, scientists, and philanthropists who are shaping the future of health and development in India. I’ll be visiting innovators who are working on solutions that could help people in India and around the world. And I’ll get to see how the foundation’s work fits into this bigger story—and how we can continue to support Indian-led efforts to improve lives.

I always leave India inspired. I know this trip will be no different.

I was excited to get a drone for my birthday last year. I couldn’t wait to get it into the air and see what my backyard looked like from the sky. But, as anyone who has used one can tell you, I quickly learned a harsh truth: Flying a drone isn’t easy. It takes a lot of practice and skill.

Maybe it’s time to pull the drone back out, because I was lucky to get a lesson from the experts last month in India. During my visit to Delhi, I met with Sangita Devi, Sumintra Devi, and Kajol Kumari—three Drone Didis from Bihar who are taking India’s agricultural productivity to new heights.

The women I met are part of the Indian government’s Namo Drone Didi program. (Didi is the Hindi word for “sister.”) It was launched in 2023 to help rural women boost their income and boost India’s agricultural productivity—and although the program is still in its early days, I’m already impressed by its results.

Right now, the Drone Didis primarily use their flying skills to fertilize crops. Applying fertilizer via drone has a lot of benefits over doing it by hand. Since you can spray farther away from the plant, the liquid fertilizer becomes more atomized—which means that it turns into finer droplets that cover more area. This benefits both farmers and the environment, because you need significantly less fertilizer and less water to help distribute it. Plus, it’s faster. One Drone Didi can cover as much as five acres in the same time it would take five people to cover half an acre.

I cannot wait to see how the program expands in the years ahead. The Indian government has plans to equip the drones with advanced sensors and imaging technology. This will allow Drone Didis to use real-time data to deliver targeted interventions to improve the quality and quantity of farmers’ crops. They will be able to detect diseases and pests, assess soil moisture levels, monitor crop growth, and more.

I’m equally excited to track how the Drone Didi program continues to empower women across India. Every Didi is affiliated with a self-help group, or SHG. The plan is to provide nearly 15,000 drones to SHGs across India by the end of next year.

In the United States, where I live, self-help groups are usually associated with mental health. In India, they’re a form of mutual aid. Each SHG is small—most are around 12 people, although some are as big as 25—and brings together women to support each other socially and financially. They pool their savings, access microloans at lower interest rates, and solve problems in areas like health and education.

The Didis I met with were longtime members of SHGs organized by JEEViKA, an organization in Bihar that works to lift people from rural areas out of poverty. During our time together in Delhi, Kajol told me about how JEEViKA helped her open her own shop three years ago, where she sells seeds and fertilizers. She loves being an entrepreneur, and when she was approached about becoming a Drone Didi, she knew it would do wonders for her business.

Each Didi attends a training program in Hyderabad or Noida, where they are taught how to pilot the drone and apply fertilizer effectively. (I was surprised to hear that learning to fly is apparently easier and takes less time than learning to fertilize!) Other women in their SHGs are trained as drone technicians, ready to repair the machines if any problems arise.

In the less than two years, the Drone Didi program is already transforming the lives of its pilots. Kajol is using the extra income she’s earned to expand her shop offerings and build a warehouse to store her stock. She also plans to send her children to a better school. Sangita’s family couldn’t afford a bicycle before she became a Drone Didi—today, she is the proud owner of an auto rickshaw.

Sumintra hopes that, when people see someone like her flying a huge drone, it changes their perception of what women are capable of. Like many women in her area, she married very young and was expected to stay home with her children. Today, her kids call her “Pilot Mummy” and dream about her flying airplanes one day.

I hope you think of the Didis the next time you hear the buzz of a drone above you at a wedding or a park. It’s remarkable how one piece of technology can reshape what is possible in a community. Kajol told me that people sometimes look at her and say, “She’s flying too high! What will she do next?”

Her response? “This is just the beginning. Wait and see what’s coming.”

What grain did your family grow up eating? I’m from the United States, where wheat and corn are king. But if I had been born in East Asia, I probably would’ve eaten a lot more rice as a kid.

If you grew up in West Africa, you might have eaten an ancient grain called fonio. Fonio has been feeding families in West Africa for more than 5,000 years, longer than any other cultivated grain on the continent. That makes it older than toilets, the wheel, and even writing. It’s a super small grain with a texture that reminds me a bit of couscous when cooked in hot water. Its nutty taste is delicious on its own but is also good when ground into flour.

Fonio is just one part of a much bigger family of remarkable ancient grains: the millets. Perhaps you’ve heard of finger millet. It’s a staple in Uganda and parts of Kenya and Tanzania, and it’s beloved in India where it is called ragi. Or maybe you’ve heard of teff, a longtime favorite in Ethiopia where it’s used to make injera.

Millets have been around for centuries, but they’re currently experiencing a resurgence—both for consumers who enjoy their taste and for farmers who appreciate how reliable they are to grow.

Fonio, in particular, is like farming on easy mode. You wait until a good rain comes, lightly till the soil to loosen it up, and then scatter the seeds on the ground. Two months later, you harvest the grain.

I planted drought-tolerant seeds, fed and weighed chickens, and used a mobile phone to monitor weather forecasts and local crop prices.

These were a few of the chores I was given during my visit with Mary Mathuli, a smallholder farmer in rural Kenya.

I stopped at her home in Makueni County, south-east of Nairobi, during my recent trip to Kenya to better understand how farmers like Mary are faring in the face of climate change.

I arrived expecting to hear her talk about the record droughts and smaller harvests many farmers are experiencing throughout Africa.

Instead, to my surprise, she led me out to her fields to show off the innovations that are allowing her to continue to grow crops and earn an income to support her family, despite the drastic changes in rainfall and weather patterns.

A natural teacher, Mary encouraged me to learn by doing. She put me to work so I could understand how these new agricultural inputs and practices can make a big difference in their lives.

This experience taught me a couple important lessons.

First, my farming skills—like holding a chicken and swinging a hoe—need some work.

Second, and more importantly, I got a personal reminder of how resourceful and resilient African smallholder farmers like Mary are. Battered by years of drought and other extreme weather patterns, they are developing new skills and embracing new technologies to adapt to some of the toughest conditions for growing crops and raising livestock.

To be clear, African farmers face huge challenges due to climate change. Although sub-Saharan Africa accounts for only about four percent of the world’s carbon emissions, the continent is bearing the brunt of climate change impacts. Climate-related losses on many African farms are more than double those seen globally. In Makueni County, where Mary farms, yields of maize have been falling since 1994, largely due to changes in the weather.

While more innovation is needed to help Africa’s smallholder farmers keep pace with the threats posed by climate change, Mary and other farmers in Kenya are adopting some incredible new tools and practices that can limit crop losses and help their farms thrive even in extreme weather:

As farms go, Mary’s farm is quite small. Just about 4 acres, which is typical for farms in Africa. Still, she packs a lot of activities in this space, growing commercial and subsistence food crops and rearing poultry and livestock. In sub-Saharan Africa, more than half of the population works in agriculture. Together, they produce about 80 percent of the continent’s food supply. And most of the people doing the backbreaking farm work—like the chores I performed—are women.

I was impressed by Mary’s entrepreneurial spirit and her optimism. She appeared to seize every opportunity to try out new technologies and agricultural practices. It’s one of the reasons why she was trained as a model farmer and Village Based Advisor by the Cereal Growers Association, an organization that works with smallholder farmers to help improve their productivity. In this role, Mary provides guidance to several hundred farmers in her community, showing them how to use drought-tolerant seeds, raise chickens, and adopt other climate adaptation agricultural strategies.

She is clearly doing a good job in this role because more than 90 percent of farmers in her area have embraced one of the new adaptation practices.

I look forward to hearing how the seeds I planted with Mary are doing, despite the disappointing rains in recent months. I can’t imagine them in better hands than hers.

Thanks so much for the visit, Mary!

In the introduction to his latest book, How to Feed the World, Vaclav Smil writes that “numbers are the antidote to wishful thinking.” That one line captures why I’ve been such a devoted reader of this curmudgeonly Canada-based Czech academic for so many years. Across his decades of research and writing, Vaclav has tackled some of the biggest questions in energy, agriculture, and public health—not by making grand predictions, but by breaking down complex problems into measurable data.

Now, in How to Feed the World, Vaclav applies that same approach to one of the most pressing issues of our time: ensuring that everyone has enough nutritious food to eat. Many discussions about feeding the world focus on increasing agricultural productivity through improved seeds, healthier soils, better farming practices, and more productive livestock (all priorities for the Gates Foundation). Vaclav, however, insists we already produce more than enough food to feed the world. The real challenge, he says, is what happens after the food is grown.

This kind of argument is classic Vaclav—questioning assumptions, forcing us to rethink the way we frame problems, and turning conventional wisdom on its head. His analysis is never about the best- or worst-case scenarios; it’s about what the numbers actually tell us.

And the numbers tell a striking story: Some of the world’s biggest food producers have the highest rates of undernourishment. Globally, we produce around 3,000 calories per person per day—more than enough to feed everyone—but a staggering one-third of all food is wasted. (In some rich countries, that figure climbs to 45 percent.) Distribution systems fail, economic policies backfire, and food doesn’t always go where it’s needed.

I’ve seen this firsthand through the Gates Foundation’s work in sub-Saharan Africa, where food insecurity is driven by low agricultural productivity and weak infrastructure. Yields in the region remain far lower than in Asia or Latin America, in part because farmers rely on rain-fed agriculture rather than irrigation and have limited access to fertilizers, quality seeds, and digital farming tools. But even when food is grown, getting it to market is another challenge. Poor roads drive up transport costs, inadequate storage leads to food going bad, and weak trade networks make nutritious food unaffordable for many families.

And access is only part of the problem. Even when people get enough calories, they’re often missing the right nutrients. Malnutrition remains one of the most critical challenges the foundation works on—and it’s more complex than eating enough food. While severe hunger has declined globally, micronutrient deficiencies remain stubbornly common, even in wealthy countries. One of the most effective solutions has been around for nearly a century: food fortification. In the U.S., flour has been fortified with iron and vitamin B since the 1940s. This simple step has helped prevent conditions like anemia and neural tube defects and improve public health at scale—close to vaccines in terms of lives improved per dollar spent.

One of the most interesting parts of the book is Vaclav’s exploration of how human diets evolved. Across civilizations, people independently discovered that pairing grains with legumes created complete protein profiles—whether it was rice and soybeans in Asia, wheat and lentils in India, or corn and beans in the Americas. These solutions emerged from practical experience long before modern science could explain why they worked so well.

But just as past generations adapted their diets to available resources, we’re now facing new challenges that require us to adapt in different ways. Technology and innovation can help. They’ve already transformed the way we produce food, and they’ll continue to play a role. Take aquaculture: Once a tiny industry, it’s grown over the past 40 years to supply more seafood for the world than traditional fishing—a scalable way to meet global protein demands. The Green Revolution is another example. Beginning in the 1960s, innovations in higher-yielding crops, more effective fertilizers, and modern irrigation prevented widespread famine in India and Mexico. These changes were once seen as unlikely, too.

New breakthroughs could drive even more progress. CRISPR gene editing, for instance, could help develop crops that are more resilient to drought, disease, and pests—critical for farmers facing the pressures of climate change. Vaclav warns that we can’t count on technological miracles alone, and I agree. But I also believe that breakthroughs like CRISPR could be game-changing, just as the Green Revolution once was. The key is balancing long-term innovation with practical solutions we can implement immediately.

And some of these solutions aren’t about producing more food at all—they’re about wasting less of what we already have. Better storage and packaging, smarter supply chains, and flexible pricing models could significantly reduce spoilage and excess inventory. In a conversation we had about the book, Vaclav pointed out that Costco (which might seem like the pinnacle of U.S. consumption) stocks fewer than 4,000 items, compared to 40,000-plus in a typical North American supermarket.

That kind of efficiency—focusing on fewer, high-turnover products—reduces waste, lowers costs, and ultimately eases pressure on global food supply, helping make food more affordable where it is needed most.

How to Feed the World had a lot to teach me—and I’m sure it will teach you a lot, too. Like all of Vaclav’s best books, it challenges readers to think differently about a problem we thought we understood. Growing more and better food remains crucial—especially in places like sub-Saharan Africa, where there simply isn’t enough. But as the world’s population approaches 10 billion, increasing agricultural productivity alone won’t solve hunger and malnutrition. We also need to ensure that food is more accessible and affordable, less wasted, and just as nutritious as it is abundant.

After all, the goal isn’t to make more food for its own sake—it’s to feed more people.

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 spent a lot of time over the last month talking about climate change. Whether it’s on my book tour, in media interviews, or just during conversations with colleagues, it’s been great to have so many thoughtful conversations with people about how we prevent the worst effects of climate change.

Most of the questions I’ve gotten are about how we get to zero greenhouse gas emissions. Mitigation is the biggest climate problem we need to solve, and it’s been great to see it get so much attention. But I’ve noticed there’s one key topic that people don’t ask about as much: how we can help the world adapt to climate change.

I understand why. I dedicated five chapters of the book to mitigation and only one to adaptation. (In retrospect, I wish I had written more about the subject.) But there’s a reason I named my book “How to Avoid a Climate Disaster” and not “How to Stop Climate Change:” Our climate is already changing.

You just need to look at last month’s freeze in Texas and last year’s wildfires in California to see that extreme weather events are becoming more common. The scary thing is that these events aren’t the only (or even the most devastating) way a warming world is making life more difficult for people. The biggest damage is happening too gradually to make headline news, mostly in places near the Equator—and no one is more at risk than the world’s poorest people. 

About two-thirds of those living in poverty work in agriculture, often relying on the food they grow to feed their families. A warmer world will be problematic for relatively well-off farmers in America and Europe, but potentially deadly for low-income farmers in Africa and Asia.

The closer you live to the Equator, the worse the effects of climate change will be. Droughts and floods will become more frequent, wiping out harvests more often. Livestock will eat less and produce less meat and milk. The air and soil start to lose moisture, leaving less water available for plants; in South Asia and sub-Saharan Africa, tens of millions of acres of farmland will become substantially drier.

When you’re already living on the edge, any one of these changes could be disastrous. We’re likely going to see a situation for these farmers where, instead of your crop getting wiped out every ten years, it gets wiped out every four years. If you don’t have money saved up to buy imported food—which is the case for most smallholder farmers—your children will likely become malnourished and more susceptible to disease.

The worst impact of climate change in poor countries will be to make health worse—which is yet another reason why we need to help the poorest improve their health. This starts with raising the odds that malnourished children will survive by improving primary healthcare systems, doubling down on malaria prevention, and continuing to provide vaccines for conditions like diarrhea and pneumonia. We also need to ensure that fewer children are malnourished in the first place by helping poor farmers grow more food.

This is a problem we can help solve with innovation. We need better methods and tools to grow food, just like we need to find zero-carbon ways to move around and generate electricity. No other organization is in a better position to create the innovations that will help poor farmers adapt to climate change in the years ahead than CGIAR, a global partnership that helps make plants and animals more resilient and productive. (I’ve written about how amazing CGIAR is before.)

Our foundation first got involved with CGIAR more than a decade ago, when we supported their work to develop drought- and flood-tolerant varieties of staple crops like maize. We’re already seeing big improvements in places like Zimbabwe. Farmers in drought-stricken areas there who used drought-tolerant maize were able to harvest up to 500 more pounds per acre than farmers who used conventional varieties—producing enough to feed a family of six for nine months.

CGIAR and other organizations are also creating tools to help farmers adapt to unpredictable weather, like sensors that tell you when to plant seeds and phone apps that help identify pests. Poor farmers need more advances like these, but to provide them, we need to invest more money in agricultural R&D. Doubling CGIAR’s funding so it can reach more farmers is one of the main recommendations by the Global Commission on Adaptation, which I led along with former UN secretary-general Ban Ki-moon and former World Bank CEO Kristalina Georgieva. (Other recommendations include shoring up water infrastructure and building a stronger safety net to help farmers recover faster.)

If we don’t take steps now to help farmers adapt, we’re setting ourselves up for a humanitarian and geopolitical disaster. The U.S. military predicts that climate change will become a huge driver of global instability. When people can’t grow enough food to feed themselves, they often leave those areas for places that can better support their families. We’re going to see more “climate refugees” move to cooler regions as the world gets warmer. The Department of Defense is already thinking about where a warmer climate could cause conflicts that they would be asked to intervene in.

It’s deeply unfair that the people who contribute the least to climate change will suffer the worst from its effects. Extreme poverty has plummeted in the past quarter century, from 36 percent of the world’s population in 1990 to 10 percent in 2015 (although COVID-19 is a huge setback that is undoing a great deal of progress). Climate change could erase even more of these gains, increasing the number of people living in extreme poverty by 13 percent.

Rich and middle-income countries are causing the vast majority of climate change, and we need to be the ones to step up and invest more in adaptation. The world’s poorest deserve our help, and they need more of it than they’re getting.

Almost thirty years ago, I wrote a book called The Road Ahead, about the transformative potential of the internet and other new digital technologies. Back then, I envisioned a world where online payments and e-government would change how we interact with money, services, and each other. Today, much of that has become a reality, in part due to the development of digital public infrastructure. In my recent travels around the world, I’ve seen up close how DPI is revolutionizing the way entire nations serve their people, respond to crises, and grow their economies. And at the Gates Foundation, we see it as an important part of our efforts to help save lives and fight poverty in poor countries.  

There are a few core components that constitute DPI: digital ID systems that securely prove who you are, payment systems that move money instantly and cheaply, and data exchange platforms that allow different services to work together seamlessly. These systems and platforms are to the digital world what roads, bridges, and power lines are to the physical one—an underlying structure that connects people, data, and money online. Strong DPI can propel a country forward by making it easier for people to access essential services, participate in the formal economy, and improve their lives. On the flip side, DPI that is poorly implemented (or simply non-existent) can slow a country’s development and perpetuate inefficiencies and inequities.  

In the 21^st century, digital public infrastructure is proving to be as important for progress as its brick-and-mortar predecessors—and the effects have been impressive around the world, wherever it’s been embraced.

In the worst days of COVID-19, when people around the world were out of work and struggling to pay for food and housing, many national governments came to the same conclusion about the best way to offer immediate help: send people cash. More than 200 countries introduced emergency cash transfer programs or expanded existing ones; India, for example, transferred money to 300 million people, 200 million of whom were women, in the weeks after its first lockdown. Brazil reached 70 million people with emergency transfers.

Imagine the risk involved in making these payments with paper money during a pandemic. Government workers would have to physically deliver these payments, potentially exposing them and everyone they encountered to the virus. In addition, the whole process would be expensive and time-consuming at a time when people need help as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, most governments didn’t have to resort to in-person payment. They were able to deposit cash transfers directly into people’s accounts—allowing them to give crucial support without paper bills changing hands. And during the pandemic, even more users were brought into the digital fold. For example, after financial regulators in West Africa temporarily allowed people to open accounts by text or telephone, more than 8 million signed up for accounts while their countries were in lockdown.

Globally, transferring so much money without cash was possible thanks to more than a decade of painstaking work by governments, financial service providers, nonprofits, and other partners. Today, about three quarters of people worldwide have an account at a financial institution or through a mobile money provider. That’s a 50 percent increase in the past ten years, and the growth has not just been in higher-income countries. Developing countries have increased 71 percent in that time.

This growth is great news because it means that more low-income people—and especially low-income women—are being empowered to use products that let them make and receive payments, save and borrow money, and get insurance. Both research and experience show that this financial inclusion helps people exit and stay out of poverty. And using digital technology to do it is a low-cost way to build economic resilience and reduce extreme poverty, which is why it’s an essential part of the Gates Foundation’s strategy. We have granted several hundred million dollars to partners who are helping low- and middle-income countries build digital financial systems.

Whenever I talk to friends about this work, they’re surprised to learn that roughly 1.4 billion adults can’t or don’t use any type of formal financial account, and most of those unbanked people live in low- and middle-income countries. One reason is that analog banking requires buildings, piles of paperwork, security guards, and tellers, making the cost per transaction so high that it’s not economical for a company to serve people with low balances and small transactions. As a result, people create ingenious informal banking methods—doing things like pooling cash with family and neighbors or creating community savings groups. As creative as these solutions are, they don’t allow people to build assets or move money instantly. And they are often risky—cash stashed under a mattress can be stolen, for example.

Today, the proliferation of mobile phones means that you no longer need so much expensive infrastructure to provide modern financial services. With digital technology, costs are low enough that it makes economic sense for companies to serve more of the people whom the old system has ignored.

An early example was M-PESA in Kenya, which let people living in cities send money to their relatives in rural areas efficiently and inexpensively. As it caught on, it was eventually used to make payments in shops. Likewise, India’s Universal Payment Interface allows users to make instant digital payments to each other at extremely low cost; it now includes 323 financial service providers throughout the country and handles nearly 6 billion transactions each month. During the pandemic, more than 80 million adults in India made their first digital payment to a merchant.

Yet even the exemplar countries aren’t reaching everyone who needs digital banking. That’s why the World Bank (with support from the foundation) runs the Global Findex database, a comprehensive survey of how adults borrow, save, and send money and manage risks. The Findex has been updated periodically since 2011, and the latest version was just published earlier today. Using data gathered from 128,000 adults in 123 economies, it highlights steps that will expand formal banking to everyone in the world who wants it.

I eagerly read an early copy of the Findex report as soon as I had the chance, and I’m glad I did. I recommend the report to anyone, especially policymakers, who wants more people to benefit from financial inclusion. When the world knows more about where inclusion is growing and where it isn’t, we’re better equipped to make sure we’re reaching the people who are still left out.  

One Findex finding that jumped out to me is the gender gap. Although the world has made progress in empowering women to use formal financial services as much as men do, there’s still work to do. In developing countries, the gap was 9 percent in 2017 and 6 percent in 2021. The world can do better. Leaders should focus even more directly on expanding account ownership and use among women.

Another section of the report looks at a crucial question: What prevents the people who are still unbanked from joining the formal system? Knowing the answer will make it easier to create services that will work for them.

To find out, the researchers behind the Findex did extensive surveys of the unbanked. Their top explanations: The accounts are still too expensive, a family member already has one, banks are too far away, or they don’t have enough money to use an account. So making the accounts even more affordable, accessible, and appealing needs to be a priority. Introducing digital payments via mobile phones is a great way to start: Between 2014 and 2021, the percentage of people in Ghana using formal banking services went up 28 points, and virtually all of the increase was driven by people signing up for mobile-enabled digital payments.

I’ve heard people argue that there’s a simple way to automatically expand financial inclusion: introduce digital currencies, and specifically cryptocurrencies. But that idea isn’t rooted in an understanding of what poor people require—the kind of understanding that the Findex provides.

In many areas where the unbanked live, many transactions are still done in cash, so even people with digital accounts need the ability to convert digital money into paper money quickly, and vice versa. But today, that’s extremely difficult to do with cryptocurrencies, particularly in rural areas. In addition, cryptocurrencies don’t solve the problem of identification; buyers and sellers would still need to be able to prove they are who they say they are.

When it comes to financial inclusion, the most important thing is to consider what poor people require. That means creating secure financial systems that identify who is making transactions, and that are interoperable, so that a person using one system can make transactions with someone on another system. It also means updating regulations so they protect consumers while encouraging innovation.

I’m excited about the great progress that’s documented in this year’s Findex. More people around the world, including more women and low-income people, have and use bank accounts than ever before. A lot of people are still excluded, but we have a roadmap that is feasible without billions of dollars of extra money to build systems that empower them. By following the roadmap, we can help them lift themselves out of poverty and make the world a fairer place.

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.

The most dangerous foe U.S. soldiers may have ever encountered is the mosquito, which has caused more casualties than bombs or bullets during the nation’s conflicts.

One of the first military expenditures by the Continental Congress was $300 for quinine to protect General George Washington’s troops from malaria. During the Civil War, there were over a million cases of malaria in Union troops alone. In World War II, there were nearly 700,000 cases of malaria. In Vietnam, 50,000 cases. And more recently, of all the American soldiers deployed in Afghanistan, one out of every 20 of them battled malaria.

Finding ways to protect soldiers from the mosquito—the world’s deadliest animal—is a top priority at the U.S. Department of Defense’s Walter Reed Army Institute of Research (WRAIR).

I expect most people have never heard about WRAIR—or, if they have, they may be confusing it with the more familiar but separate institution, the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, where U.S. presidents visit wounded troops and go for medical treatment.

It’s too bad more people don’t know about the work being done at WRAIR. Since its founding in 1893, WRAIR has been a global research leader into new malaria drugs, mosquito control, and more recently, vaccines, to protect people from mosquito-borne diseases. This research benefits the lives of not only American soldiers, but also billions of people living in areas where mosquito-borne diseases are a threat. That’s why our foundation collaborates with WRAIR on a range of research projects in malaria and other diseases that endanger the lives of people living in some of the world’s poorest areas.

Here’s one of many incredible facts that speak to WRAIR prominence in malaria research: WRAIR has contributed to the discovery and development of all FDA-approved malaria drugs, including primaquine, mefloquine, atovaquone/proguanil (Malarone), tafenoquine, and doxycycline. If you’ve ever traveled to an area where malaria is prevalent you’ve probably been prescribed one of these drugs for protection. And because of the spread of malaria drug resistance, WRAIR continues to explore new drugs to stay one step ahead of this threat.

WRAIR, in partnership with the Smithsonian Institute, also manages the world’s largest mosquito collection, which currently has more than 1.7 million specimens. Some of the oldest were collected by Walter Reed, the Army major who helped discover that yellow fever is transmitted by mosquitoes. WRAIR is named in his honor.

This large mosquito collection allows WRAIR researchers to “know their enemy,” by giving them a deep understanding of the huge variety of mosquito species that populate the globe so they can mount the most effective defenses against them.

The first line of defense for soldiers is their clothing and WRAIR has developed uniforms treated with insecticides to protect them. Then, there are mosquito nets and various repellents, including ones that double as camouflage paint.

Highly effective vaccines against malaria and other mosquito-borne disease are also a priority at WRAIR. WRAIR developed the first-ever malaria vaccine in conjunction with GlaxoSmithKline. Researchers at WRAIR also led the development of a Zika vaccine.

One of the most surprising and important areas of research at WRAIR are the human malaria infection challenge trials. As part of this program, WRAIR recruits volunteers who agree to be bitten by malaria-infected mosquitoes, exposing themselves to a curable form of the disease to test the effectiveness of various interventions. This might sound scary, but the trials are extremely safe. The volunteers are carefully monitored and are quickly cured before they become too ill. In the last 30 years, WRAIR has performed over 100 trials on over 2,200 volunteers. Thanks to this research, WRAIR has greatly accelerated the development of experimental vaccines and malaria drugs.

What’s most exciting at WRAIR is the research that will help us all prepare for the threats of the future, including climate change, which will increase the spread of mosquito-borne diseases.

As Col. Brian Evans, WRAIR’s chief entomologist, says, “The challenge is always evolving and the role of WRAIR is to keep up with that, to stay ahead of the game.”

Thanks to their incredible work for more than 125 years, WRAIR has done just that.

I want to share a few impressions from my time in China. I just had a meeting with President Xi, in which we discussed the importance of addressing global health and development challenges, like health inequity and climate change, and how China can play a role in achieving progress for people everywhere.

As part of my work with the Gates Foundation, I’ve tried to visit China, India, countries in Africa and Europe, and Washington D.C. each year. On these trips, I’d talk to researchers, government leaders, advocates, and other experts who are working on inequities in health and development. I’d always learn a lot, returning inspired by what I saw and heard.

It’s great to be able to resume these regular visits. This was my first trip to China in four years, and immediately after this trip, I’m headed to West Africa for the first time in five years. And I went to India in March.

On each trip this year, I have a key message: Over the past two decades, the world made significant strides in reducing poverty and improving health outcomes, but COVID was a big setback and even reversed progress on some global goals like reducing poverty and fighting TB and malaria. Many African countries, for example, are particularly impacted by overlapping challenges, including the effects of climate change, high food prices, escalating poverty rates, surging infectious diseases, and significant debt pressures.

Even though the challenges facing many African countries are complex, I’m optimistic that innovation in health, agriculture, digital finance, and energy will help improve lives there. I’m looking forward to meeting leaders and young people helping to accelerate progress when I visit West Africa.

Solving these problems requires innovation—both new tools and new ways of doing things. China has eliminated diseases, including polio and malaria, within its borders, developed drugs like artemisinin that have saved millions of lives around the world from malaria, made great strides in poverty reduction, and has made significant investments in clean energy and climate adaptation. So I was looking forward to seeing what’s changed since my last visit four years ago.

One highlight was my visit to the Global Health Drug Discovery Institute, an organization our foundation helped establish six years ago in partnership with the Beijing Municipal Government and Tsinghua University. GHDDI represents a productive way for public and private partners to work together on discovering new medicines for diseases that disproportionately impact the world’s most vulnerable populations but have applications for the world. I spoke about the institute’s work on TB and malaria yesterday, and we also extended our partnership over the next five years.

I also got to visit the National Crop Genebank of China. This facility is a prominent crop research center and also serves as a long-term preservation storage space for seeds so that scientists around the world have access to important genetic data. During my visit, I met with agricultural scientists who are working with their counterparts worldwide, particularly in Africa, on new rice varieties that help farmers increase their productivity and minimize the need for fertilizers, pesticides, and irrigation.

The benefits of their work have reached millions of farming households across Asia and Africa. The continued investment in technology and innovation within the agricultural sector has played a significant role in the increase in agricultural productivity throughout China. What excites me even more is China’s commitment to share their expertise and innovative practices with low-income countries. By assisting farmers in adapting to climate change, increasing their income, and combating food crises, they are making a substantial contribution to global food security.

The genebank and GHDDI are just two examples of the promising work the foundation has seen in China in the more than 15 years we’ve been partnering here. And there will be more opportunities for China and others to step up later this year, including a summit on development financing in Paris, a meeting of the G20 in New Delhi, and the COP28 climate conference in Dubai.

I’m convinced that if the world works together to address climate change, health inequity, and food security we can make extraordinary progress. And I’m looking forward to exploring new opportunities for collaboration and innovation that will make a better future for everyone.

While promoting my new pandemic book the last month, I’ve been telling audiences and interviewers that if we want to make COVID-19 the last pandemic, we need to combat infectious diseases the same way we fight fires.

Just like we have a robust system of fire alarms, firefighters, and fire hydrants to help detect and extinguish fires, we need to create an equally effective system to identify and respond to new disease outbreaks.

This firefighting comparison is also a useful way to understand the amazing work of Sofonias Tessema.

Officially, Sofonias is the program lead for the Africa Pathogen Genomics Initiative at the Africa Centers for Disease Control and Prevention or Africa CDC. But in firefighting terms you might think of him as a fire safety officer who is building a network of fire watchtowers and smoke detectors across Africa.

Instead of looking out for the first signs of a fire before it can spread, however, Sofonias is focused on quickly detecting deadly pathogens before they can grow into a global threat. And instead of using watchtowers and smoke detectors, he relies on powerful genomic sequencing technologies to spot disease outbreaks.

Genomic sequencing allows scientists to read the DNA and RNA of pathogens and understand what they are, how they spread from one person to another, and develop counter measures like vaccines. During COVID-19, this technology has been an invaluable tool for identifying new variants, tracking the evolution and spread of the virus, and guiding public health responses.

Advances in this technology have made it easier, faster, and cheaper to do genomic surveillance. Over the last two decades, the price of sequencing a full human genome has fallen dramatically. And one company, Oxford-Nanopore, has even developed a portable gene sequencer that can be operated with a laptop and no need for a lab, allowing health officials to conduct genetic testing in remote areas where outbreaks may occur.

As powerful as genomic sequencing technologies have become, many countries have not taken full advantage of them. Building genomic disease surveillance capacity presents challenges because it requires investments in labs, expensive equipment, and specially trained personnel. While the COVID-19 pandemic has sparked new interest in using genomic sequencing to improve disease surveillance, many parts of the world are still working to strengthen their capacity to use this critical technology.

In 2019, Sofonias joined the Africa CDC to establish a continent-wide genomic disease surveillance network. One of Sofonias’s first projects was to conduct an assessment to understand how many African nations were prepared to use this technology.

The results, Sofonias said, were shocking.

Of the African Union’s 55 member states, just seven had public health institutions with trained personnel and equipment to do genetic sequencing.

Given the scale of the job before them, Sofonias and his team had planned for a phased approach to help African nations build genomic surveillance capabilities. They had to acquire the technology, hire and train the technicians to operate them, and create the data systems so governments can analyze and share the genetic information and use it to inform public health decisions. Building this system would take time.

But the Africa CDC soon learned that time was a luxury they didn’t have. Within weeks of Sofonias joining the Africa CDC, the first cases of COVID-19 were detected in China. And two months later, the first cases were identified in African countries.

It’s hard to overstate the challenge before Sofonias and the Africa CDC. While genomic surveillance had been used during Ebola, Lassa fever, and cholera outbreaks, bringing this technology to scale posed many challenges in Africa, where many countries did not have the infrastructure or trained personnel to run these labs.

But this was just the kind of challenge Sofonias had always been eager to take on.

Born in Ethiopia, Sofonias grew up in a rural town where malaria was always a major threat. Seeing people die and suffer from the mosquito-borne disease got him interested in a career in public health. He earned a PhD in malaria genomics, an emerging field of research that uses genetic data of the malaria parasite to advance malaria eradication efforts. After graduate school, he was working as postdoctoral fellow at the University of California in San Francisco, where he was focused on how genomic data combined with mobile phone data could help researchers understand how malaria spreads from one country to another.

In 2019, when a call came from the Africa CDC asking if he would use his knowledge of genomic surveillance technologies to help Africa, he jumped at the opportunity. Sofonias saw the untapped potential of this new technology to make more informed public health decisions in Africa. And after years living abroad, he was also excited to return home to Ethiopia, where the Africa CDC is based.

Sofonias and his team scrambled to quickly build up Africa’s capacity to do genomic disease surveillance. The Africa CDC focused first on scaling up COVID-19 testing capabilities. At the beginning of the pandemic, only two African nations had the ability to perform PCR COVID tests, highly accurate tests that detect genetic material from the virus.

At the same time, his team worked to acquire next-generation sequencing technologies (NGS) for Africa. NGS technologies offer a more efficient, accurate, and cheaper way for researchers to track the slightest genetic changes in pathogens which may cause disease outbreaks. This effort received support from a group of public, private, and non-profit partners including the African Union, Illumina and Oxford Nanopore, which produce next-generation sequencing machines, the US Centers for Disease Control and our foundation.

Thanks to Sofonias and the rest of the Africa Pathogen Genomics Initiative team, 31 African nations now have the capability to do genetic sequencing for surveillance of COVID, malaria, cholera, Ebola, and other diseases.

Despite this progress, much remains to be done. Sofonias’s team faces challenges in bringing this technology to all African nations. Access to the equipment needed in the labs has been delayed because of global supply chain disruptions. Training enough lab technicians and data scientists to process and analyze the samples has been difficult. Finally, more coordination is needed between countries to share their genetic data and use it to inform collective health responses.

But every month, Sofonias’s team continues to strengthen and expand the system across the continent. The goal is to create a seamless, integrated network that includes laboratories at the community level, which can spot the first signs of an outbreak, perform genomic testing of pathogens, and analyze the results to guide a public health response.

“Our vision is bold. Our vision is optimistic. We always push forward and continue to work with the countries to show that this is actually feasible,” he said. “It really makes me hopeful that this technology can improve outbreak detection and response in Africa.”

Sofonias shared the progress and challenges of building a genomic disease surveillance network with a group of graduate students who participated in a recent Gates Notes Deep Dive on pandemic prevention.

In Africa, the latest statistics on COVID-19 are discouraging. Just 6 percent—about 78 millionof the continent’s 1.3 billion people have been fully vaccinated. Worldwide, by comparison, 43 percent are fully vaccinated, and boosters are now widely available in many countries.

Without enough vaccines available in Africa, COVID-19 marches on infecting millions of people. Even assessing the true scale of the pandemic on the continent is difficult. A recent World Health Organization assessment estimated that only one in seven cases of COVID in Africa are being detected because of a limited amount of testing.

And while many Western and Asian countries are recovering economically from the pandemic and returning to some version of normalcy, most countries in Africa continue to struggle. Disruptions to schooling, health care, and livelihoods have sunk many families deeper into poverty, leaving them without enough food and basic services.

We should all be upset about this inequity. (I’ve written recently about this divide and the steps the world needs to take to get the virus under control.) It’s critical that more be done to get vaccines into the arms of the people at high risk for COVID, including the elderly and immunocompromised, who are living in low-income countries. And the recent detection of the Omicron variant serves as a reminder of how important increasing vaccination rates is to deter new mutations of the virus from emerging.

But even during this difficult time, I think it’s important to highlight the many Africans who are fighting back against this pandemic. They are stepping up to alleviate suffering, to combat misinformation, and to develop the tools needed to prevent future pandemics.

There are thousands of examples of heroic work being done in Africa during this pandemic. Here are three stories of organizations and individuals who are working to save lives and bring hope to their communities.

1. South Africa: The Truck

As COVID-19 swept across South Africa, one of the most pressing needs was access to public health information. People needed to know about the virus and how to stay safe. And as South Africa started rolling out COVID vaccines this year, health officials were also tasked with counteracting the spread of misinformation about the virus and vaccines. This was especially challenging in hard-to-reach communities in South Africa, where people don’t have access to television and other media. But UNICEF, in partnership with the national government, had an answer to this challenge: A truck. Not just any truck but a multi-media messenger on wheels. The truck has LED screens, which allows the truck’s organizer to broadcast videos telling local stories about COVID-19. They also organize presentations in communities to raise awareness of the virus, teach people how to prevent its spread, and promote COVID testing and vaccinations. The truck has logged more than 40,000 miles and delivered messages to hundreds of thousands of people.

2. Lesotho: Mamello Makhele

Mamello Makhele is a nurse-midwife working to improve health care for women in rural Lesotho, where there are high rates of maternal mortality. During the pandemic lockdowns many health facilities closed, leaving women living in these remote communities without access to family planning services. On foot and by donkey, Mamello travels high into the mountain to offer health care, deliver babies, and distribute contraceptives. Mamello has also worked nationwide to empower young women, encouraging them to take control of their health and prevent unwanted pregnancies. Thanks to her incredible work, many women are healthier today in Lesotho.

3. Tanzania: Afyadata

Even as the world seeks to end the current COVID-19 pandemic, we need to also be thinking about how to prevent future pandemics. That’s just what a mobile app called Afyadata is helping health officials do in Tanzania. Designed by the Southern African Center for Infectious Disease Surveillance (SACIDS), Afyadata is a digital surveillance tool that allows health workers and even ordinary people to serve as disease detectives. Users can report unusual health occurrences not only in humans, but also animals. Monitoring animals is critical because most new pathogens start in animals before they spread and sicken humans. With the app, farmers can easily report any suspicious illness among their livestock to health officials, who can then quickly follow up with further investigation, if necessary. While this app is still being piloted in several districts of Tanzania and other parts of Africa, it has already been effective in the detection and identification of several small disease outbreaks. I look forward to learning more about Afyadata’s progress.

When I was a kid, my image of a hero was largely inspired by my dad’s collection of early Superman comics. I read them all. A “hero” was somebody who had supernatural powers like flying, laser vision, or the strength to bend steel.

As humans, of course, we’re all pretty limited in our physical powers. We don’t fly. We can’t see through walls. But what’s unbounded in us is our ability to see injustices and to take them on—often at great risk to ourselves.

My work in global health and development has introduced me to many extraordinary heroes with this kind of superpower. And I’ve had the honor of highlighting many of them on this blog: An epidemiologist who helped eradicate smallpox. A doctor working to end sexual violence in Africa. A researcher working to end hunger with improved crops. Just to name a few.

Why do we need heroes?

Because they represent the best of who we can be. Their efforts to solve the world’s challenges demonstrate our values as a society and they serve as powerful examples of how to make a positive difference in the world. And if enough people hear about their actions, they can inspire others to do something heroic too.

If there’s ever been a time that we need heroes, it’s now. The COVID-19 pandemic has created unprecedented health and economic challenges, especially for the most vulnerable among us. The good news is that many people from all walks of life are doing their part to help them. Health care workers. Scientists. Firefighters. Grocery store workers. Aid workers. Vaccine trial participants. And ordinary citizens caring for their neighbors.

Here are portraits of a few individuals from around the world working to alleviate suffering during this pandemic. I hope their stories inspire you just as much as they have me.

To these heroes and heroes everywhere, thank you for the work you do!

As the COVID-19 pandemic spreads across Africa, hospitals across the continent face shortages of essential medical supplies needed to treat the respiratory disease and keep patients alive.

Not just masks and ventilators, but oxygen.

For people living in wealthy countries, medical oxygen is often taken for granted. In many low-income countries, however, oxygen is often in short supply or not available at all. And globally, a lack of oxygen –needed to treat pneumonia, malaria, and other diseases—leads to hundreds of thousands of deaths each year.

Addressing this often overlooked challenge is the life’s work of Bernard Olayo, a Kenyan doctor who founded Hewatele, an innovative organization working to ensure all patients—even in remote areas of the country—have access to oxygen.

Now, he is playing a critical role in Kenya’s preparations to tackle COVID-19 by scaling up oxygen supplies that will be needed to keep the most critically ill patients alive. 

While the number of COVID-19 cases in Africa remains low compared to other parts of the world, the continent is bracing for a surge of infections. According to the World Health Organization, up to 190,000 people could die of COVID-19 in Africa if the disease is not controlled.  A widespread outbreak would flood many of Africa’s fragile health systems.

A lot of attention has been focused on the lack of ventilators in Africa. Ventilators are the mechanical devices that help patients breathe, pushing air in and out of their lungs, when they can’t on their own. And the shortage of them is a real problem. But the lack of oxygen itself is equally worrying. The coronavirus attacks the respiratory tract, inflaming the lungs and making it difficult for patients to breathe. Oxygen, delivered through a mask or nasal tube, is an essential and effective first line of treatment that’s less invasive than being on a ventilator. Oxygen is also needed to run a ventilator. If COVID-19 patients have access to oxygen as an initial treatment, however, it may prevent many of them from becoming so critically ill that they would require one of the limited number of ventilators to breathe.

What Bernard is hoping to avoid during this pandemic are the painful choices he faced as a young doctor because of a lack of oxygen. After medical school he was posted to a rural hospital, where many of the patients were children battling pneumonia who needed oxygen for treatment. But Bernard soon learned that there was never enough oxygen available. He and the other hospital staff often had to share a single cylinder of oxygen between patients. When there were too many patients and not enough oxygen, he and other doctors would be forced to decide which children would receive oxygen and live, and which would go without it and sometimes die—a choice that broke his heart, he says.

That experience inspired Bernard to investigate the source of Kenya’s oxygen supply shortages.  He discovered that one of the biggest challenges is that oxygen is expensive in Africa. In Kenya, oxygen costs about 13 times more than what it does in the United States. The high cost was driven, in part, by a lack of competition. In many countries, including Kenya, there was just a single oxygen supplier for the entire country. And with many health facilities located hundreds of miles away from the oxygen plants, transportation costs drove up prices even higher. The long distances and poor roads also meant that deliveries were unreliable. Hospitals and clinics would regularly run out of oxygen supplies.

In 2014, Bernard founded a public-private partnership to try a new approach that would make access to medical oxygen more affordable and reliable. He named the organization Hewatele (Swahili for “abundant air”). Given the delivery challenges in Kenya, Bernard decided to build oxygen plants at several of the busiest hospitals in the country, where demand is highest and reliable electricity for production is available. The oxygen is then sent out for delivery using a milkman model, with oxygen cylinders regularly dropped off at remote hospitals and clinics and the empty cylinders returned to be refilled. This system ensures that there is always more than enough oxygen available at each facility. Using this new approach, Hewatele has cut the market price for oxygen in Kenya by 50 percent. Now, Bernard is working to expand the number of oxygen plants in Kenya and bring Hewatele’s business model to other parts of Africa.

While the COVID-19 pandemic has brought much needed attention to the oxygen gap in Africa, more needs to be done to ensure that everyone has access to this simple medical intervention. Thanks to Bernard’s efforts, progress is being made. His work has already helped save the lives of thousands of children and adults and will save many more in the future—one breath at a time.

Here’s a fact that’s hard to believe: At this time two months ago, the world did not yet know about the omicron variant.

It’s both remarkable and horrifying how quickly omicron has become the dominant cause of COVID-19 in many countries. In just seven weeks, it has led to record-high case numbers and hospitalizations around the world. I’m still optimistic that the pandemic can come to an end sometime in 2022, but first we have to contend with a virus that’s spreading faster than any other in history. (I recently had a good discussion about this with global health Professor Devi Sridhar.)

The omicron surge has been an unfortunate reminder that the only way to eliminate the threat of COVID-19 somewhere is to eliminate it everywhere. As long as the virus continues to circulate at a high level in some parts of the world, we’ll always be at risk for another devastating variant. Game-changing innovations—including vaccines and new antivirals—will save lives but won’t truly accelerate the end of the pandemic until they’re accessible to everyone.

That’s why the Gates Foundation is renewing its investment in the Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations, or CEPI. I’m excited to announce a new $150 million commitment to its future work on COVID and beyond.

Our foundation helped create CEPI in 2017 to accelerate work on vaccines against new infectious diseases and make sure those vaccines reach people in the poorest countries. The organization has played an invaluable role in the COVID-19 pandemic as one of the leaders of COVAX, the global effort to get vaccines out to low- and middle-income countries.

As with malaria, polio, and many other diseases that our foundation works on, the key to pandemic prevention and preparedness is to keep on innovating. This pandemic’s most significant innovation is mRNA vaccines, which were available less than a year after the virus that causes COVID was identified. CEPI began funding efforts to develop mRNA vaccines for COVID just days after the virus was detected outside of mainland China. (One of the candidates CEPI backed in January 2020 was Moderna.)

But CEPI’s support for research on mRNA vaccines predates COVID-19—which is one of the reasons the approach was successful. The groundwork had been laid years before by investments from governments, pharmaceutical companies, and (more recently) CEPI. And the progress they’ve supported will continue to pay dividends long after the COVID pandemic ends. The mRNA platform is already being used to test new vaccines for TB and malaria diseases. Scientists are hard at work formulating next-generation vaccines that don’t require as many doses and don’t need to be kept frozen.

Altogether, CEPI has invested in 14 COVID vaccine candidates and it continues to work on variants of concern and develop next-generation vaccines that could protect against all coronaviruses. It is also focusing on six other diseases of epidemic potential.

But creating new vaccines isn’t enough. We also have to make sure that everyone who can benefit from vaccines has access to them, and that’s where the world has collectively failed in its response to COVID. While at least 9 billion doses were distributed in the past year, less than one percent went to people in low-income countries. It doesn’t make sense that so many people at lower risk of infection in wealthier countries got vaccinated before we reached the most vulnerable people, including the elderly, those with underlying medical conditions, and healthcare workers.

We need to do better the next time the world faces a pathogen that has the potential to spark a pandemic. (I’m currently writing a book about what the world needs to do to prevent the next pandemic, which will come out later this year.) I believe that the world can and should be ready to develop a new vaccine and make enough for everyone in the world within six months of detecting a potential pandemic—and CEPI will play a crucial role in achieving that. It is one example of how we need to be making investments now to support innovations that will prevent disasters in the future. For example, the organization is supporting efforts to increase manufacturing capacity and recently released a study that provides valuable insights into how we can improve the world’s production capabilities. This is the type of investment we need to make now to prevent disasters in the future.

And because CEPI is a global institution rather than a national one, it can focus on providing access for everyone, alongside other effective global institutions that have saved millions of lives like WHO, Gavi, and the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, TB and Malaria. These groups will help make sure that vaccines don’t just go to the highest bidders.

Imagine how different the last two years would’ve been if everyone in the world had had access to safe, effective COVID vaccines within six months. I know it’s hard to think about the next pandemic as the omicron variant surges around the world, but we have an opportunity to make sure the world never experiences this hardship again. Investing in organizations like CEPI is an important step that moves us closer to a world without pandemics.

Today, 46 percent of the world’s population has received at least one dose of a COVID-19 vaccine. It’s hard to overstate what a remarkable achievement this is. Humanity has never made and distributed a vaccine for a disease faster than it did for COVID-19. It accomplished in 18 months something that used to take a decade or more.

But within this amazing success there is a startling disparity: Just over 2 percent of people in low-income countries have received any COVID-19 vaccines. And the gap will be harder to close as rich-world governments buy up extra doses to serve as booster shots.

People are right to be upset about the inequity here. Vaccines make COVID-19 a largely preventable disease—and a survivable one in all but the rarest cases—and it is heartbreaking to know that people are dying of a disease not because it can’t be stopped but because they live in a low-income country.

Sadly, this inequity is not new. It is not even the worst gap in global health. There were shocking disparities in health long before any of us had heard of COVID-19.

Every year, more than 5 million children die before their fifth birthday, mostly from infectious diseases, and almost entirely in low- and middle-income countries. A child in northern Nigeria is 20 times more likely to die before the age of 5 than a child in a rich country. That is simply unjust, and reducing this inequity has been the Gates Foundation’s top priority for more than 20 years.

If you step back and look at the trends, though, there is good news. Since 1960 the childhood death rate has been cut by more than 80 percent, thanks in large part to the invention and distribution of vaccines for children around the world.

The fact that routine childhood vaccines are reaching so many people is reason to believe COVID-19 vaccines can too. Providing them to everyone who needs them is one of three crucial steps in controlling this pandemic, along with containing the virus so it doesn’t come roaring back and coordinating the global response. At the same time, we can learn from the inequities that were so clear during this pandemic so we can do a better job of closing the gap during the next one. (Assuming there is a next pandemic. I think it is possible to prevent them altogether. But that’s a subject for another time.)

How could we achieve vaccine equity in a future pandemic? I see two ways.

1. Change how the world allocates doses.

What would the optimal allocation look like? It’s not simply a matter of proportional representation, where if your county has X percent of the world’s population, you get X percent of the vaccines. There are two different benefits to consider, and both are important.

One benefit is to the individual who’s immunized; they get protection from the virus. The more likely you are to get infected—and the more likely you are to become seriously ill or die if you do get infected—the more benefit you get from a vaccine. A COVID-19 patient in their seventies is 90 times more likely to die of the disease than a patient in their twenties. From a global perspective, it is neither fair nor wise to protect that young person before the old one.

Second, when an individual is vaccinated, society gets the benefit of lowering the risk that the person will spread the disease to others. This is the core of the argument in favor of vaccinating health workers and people who work in elderly care facilities, since even when a lockdown is in place, they can transmit the virus to people at high risk.

When a virus is spreading, we should maximize both benefits—saving lives and stopping transmission. This means that, when supplies are short, we should prioritize vaccinating people who both have a high risk of death and live in the places where the virus is spreading fastest.

Those will not necessarily be low-income countries. When COVID-19 vaccines first became available, many of the most severe epidemics were in rich- and middle-income countries.

The gravest inequity, even more than vaccinating rich people before poor ones, is vaccinating young people in rich countries before older people in middle-income countries with bad epidemics, such as South Africa and most of South America.

To their credit, rich countries have pledged to share more than a billion doses with poorer countries during COVID-19. But they haven’t yet delivered fully on those pledges, and even if they had, the gap would still be enormous.

Although sharing doses needs to be part of the solution, it will never be sufficient to solve the problem. For one thing, the number of doses won’t be high enough. And will future politicians always be willing to tell young voters they can’t be vaccinated because the doses are going to another country, at a time when schools are still closed and people—including a few young people—are still dying?

That’s why it’s so important to find ways to produce more doses in less time. The world should have the goal of being able to make and deliver enough vaccines for everyone on the planet within six months of detecting a potential pandemic. If we could do that, then the supply of doses would not be a limiting factor, and the way they were allocated would no longer be a matter of life and death.

2. Make more doses.

As limited as the supply of COVID-19 vaccines has been, the situation could have been even worse.

We are fortunate that mRNA vaccines work so well, since this is the first disease for which the mRNA technology has been used. If they hadn’t, we would have been far worse off.

It is also great that some vaccine companies entered into second-source deals, which allowed huge volumes of their vaccines to be manufactured by other firms. This was a crucial and remarkable step. (It’s as if Ford let Honda use its factories to build Accords.) Just one example: In less than two years, a single manufacturer, AstraZeneca, signed second source deals involving 25 factories in 15 countries.

You may have heard the argument that waiving intellectual property (or IP) restrictions would have made a difference. Unfortunately, that’s not true in this case. IP waivers and licensing are a complicated issue, so I want to take some time to untangle it.

There are cases in which IP licensing is a great way to make something cheaper and better. For example, in 2017, the Gates Foundation and a number of partners were involved in an agreement to make a new, more effective version of an HIV drug cocktail that would be more affordable for the world’s poorest countries.

In the deal, a pharmaceutical company gave the recipe for the key ingredient in this cocktail to firms that specialize in producing generic drugs. These firms were able to reduce the cost so much that today nearly 80 percent of people who get HIV treatment in low- or middle-income countries are receiving the improved cocktail.

Unfortunately, IP licensing doesn’t work as well with vaccines. Here’s why.

Many drugs are made using chemical processes that are well defined and measurable. If you mix the same ingredients in the right proportion and so on, you’ll get the same product every time, and you can check your work by looking at the chemical structure after the drug is made. Company A can give a recipe to company B, and company B will be able to make precisely the same drug consistently.

But many vaccines don’t work that way. Manufacturing them often involves living organisms—anything from bacteria to chicken eggs. Living things don’t necessarily act exactly the same way every time, which means that even if you follow the same process twice, you might not get the same product both times. Even an experienced vaccine maker might not be able to simply take another’s recipe and replicate it reliably.

This is why broadly waiving IP protections would not meaningfully increase the supply of vaccines. (In the case of COVID-19, though, a narrow waiver that applied to specific easily transferred technologies during the pandemic made sense.) Supply has been limited not because of IP rules, but because there aren’t enough factories capable of handling the more complicated process of making vaccines.

Licensing IP—or having the rights to it waived—only guarantees that company A can’t sue company B. Second-source deals are far superior because they involve sharing not only the recipe but also knowledge about how to use it, as well as personnel, data, and biological samples. It was a second-source deal with AstraZeneca—not an IP waiver—that allowed Serum Institute of India to produce 100 million doses at a very low cost and in record time.

So how can the world make more doses faster next time?

First, decision makers should get serious about expanding the world’s vaccine-making capacity. In particular, governments and industry should make sure there’s enough capacity to quickly make huge volumes of mRNA vaccines; now that we know the mRNA platform works, it will allow new vaccines to be developed faster than any other approach. And if companies that have second-source deals now maintain their relationships with each other, they won’t have to start from square one in the next outbreak.

Another step is to develop prototype vaccines against the diseases that are most likely to cause future outbreaks, and to develop universal vaccines for flu and coronaviruses, which would protect people against any form of the two pathogens. The NIH and Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations are doing excellent work on both, but even more research is needed.

One longer-term step is for more countries to build the capacity to develop, manufacture, and approve vaccines themselves.

Historically, the companies that invent new vaccines have been based in higher-income countries. Because it costs so much to develop a new product, they try to recoup their costs as quickly as possible by selling doses at the higher prices that rich countries can afford. They have no financial incentive to try to lower their costs (by optimizing the production process, for example) so that the price can be cheap enough for lower-income countries.

The pentavalent vaccine—which protects against five diseases—is a great example. It was invented in the early 2000s, but there was only one manufacturer, and at more than $3.50 per dose, it was far too expensive for low- or middle-income countries. Our foundation and other partners worked with two vaccine companies in India—Biological E Limited and Serum Institute of India—to develop a pentavalent vaccine that would be affordable everywhere. Today that vaccine costs about $1, and it is given to 80 million children a year. That’s a 16-fold increase since 2005.

We need more examples like this. Pentavalent took years to pull off. If there were more high-volume vaccine manufacturers whose primary goal was to produce low-cost vaccines, then affordable doses would be available much faster. Middle-income countries are a natural home for these companies, and some have set ambitious goals for themselves. For example, a group of African leaders has set a target of manufacturing 60 percent of the continent’s vaccines by 2040.

Helping middle-income countries build their vaccine-making capacity is something the Gates Foundation has been working on for two decades. We’ve helped bring 17 vaccines to market, and we’re supporting the African efforts to build theirs out by 2040.

What we’ve learned is that creating an entire vaccine-making ecosystem is a tough challenge. But the obstacles can be overcome.

One issue is the need for regulatory approvals. Vaccine factories are required to be approved by what’s known as a “gold-standard” regulator. India is the only developing country with a gold-standard regulator; factories in any other developing country have to be approved by their own government first, and then by the WHO. It’s time-consuming.

Regional agencies in Africa are working with the WHO and the European Union to create gold-standard regulation on the continent. Governments are also collaborating on regional standards for vaccines, so manufacturers don’t have to meet different safety and efficacy requirements in each country.

Another challenge: If vaccine manufacturers don’t have other products to make between outbreaks, they’ll go out of business. Unfortunately, making existing vaccines isn’t a viable option, at least right now, because the market is already saturated with existing vaccines, and it would be hard for new entrants to compete on price with established low-cost / high-volume companies.

But new products are coming that would be ideal products for them. As vaccines become available for diseases like malaria, tuberculosis, and HIV, they’ll create opportunities for producers in middle-income countries. In the meantime, countries can take on the fill and finish process—putting vaccines made elsewhere into vials and distributing them.

To anyone who has lost a loved one to COVID-19, or had to choose between paying the rent or buying food, it is no comfort to suggest that anything has gone well in this pandemic. But as my friend the late Hans Rosling used to say, “The world can be both bad and better.” The situation today is bad, and also better than it would have been if COVID-19 had come along ten years ago. If the world makes the right investments and decisions now, we can make things better next time. And maybe even make sure there is no next time at all.

This post originally appeared on CNN.com.

This week global leaders are coming together at the UN General Assembly, which presents an opportunity to refocus energy and commitment on ending the crisis phase of this pandemic and to make sure we’re better prepared for the next one. In this piece I talk about how we can apply what we have learned since early 2020 and embrace a set of global actions that chart an equitable course out of the pandemic—vaccinate now, contain the disease, and coordinate the global response.

We’ve reached the 18^th month of the COVID-19 pandemic, a somber milestone marked by yet another surge of cases and deaths fueled by the Delta variant. This global crisis has been a health, economic and moral disaster playing out in waves in every geography, sparing none. While the pandemic has been a shared experience, the experience has not been the same everywhere.

In the past year-and-a-half, we have witnessed scientific breakthroughs with multiple safe and effective vaccines developed in record time, incredible multilateral cooperation resulting in billions of dollars raised for the response, and heroic efforts by healthcare and frontline workers in communities worldwide. But at the same time, we have also seen widening gaps in equity that go against everything our foundation and its partners have worked for over the past 20 years. The advent of vaccines was an opportunity to bend the curve in the direction of a global recovery. It turned out that unequal distribution and a lack of funding and supply meant the recovery has been precarious and halting.

In last year’s Goalkeepers report, Melinda and I shared modeling that warned that globally deaths would be higher if doses went predominantly to high income countries. To date, less than 2% of people in low-income countries have received a dose of a COVID-19 vaccine, compared to more than 60% of people in the U.S. The pull of the inequity we’re seeing isn’t only on the here and now—the economic recovery of low-income countries that are slow to be vaccinated is stuck in the starting blocks. These countries can expect to experience between 2-4% GDP losses through 2025 (averaging 3% per year in sub-Saharan Africa).

After 18 months of surprises around every corner with variants fueling new waves of disease there’s a tendency to say one cannot predict what will happen next. To some extent that’s true—nature is wily, and the virus will continue to mutate if it can transmit unchecked. But it’s also defeatist and incorrect to suggest that the acute phase of the pandemic will spiral on from one variant to the next. Just as the virus can change, so can the world’s response to it. Whether the world can finally turn the corner, however, will be determined by what we do next and how it’s done.

Our path out of the pandemic has always required one thing—a commitment to equity. A willingness to see that what happens in lower-income countries affects high-income countries. There is no nationalistic solution to this global problem. We’ve seen countries try and fail in that pursuit as variants emerge and threaten progression from the acute phase of the pandemic. There are three things that can be done in the coming months that can bring about the end of the acute phase of the pandemic and set the world on a different timeline in preparation for the next. I hope that leaders meeting virtually this week at the COVID Summit commit to actions that meet these needs:

1. Vaccinate Now

Governments and the private sector must work together to build a more transparent system to accelerate the global supply of vaccines. While a shortage of supply was a major issue in the first half of the year, recently 41 million doses per day have been distributed globally. It’s progress, but there’s a long way to go. The WHO/Gavi-led COVAX AMC, Africa CDC-led African Vaccine Acquisition Task Team (AVATT) and other channels can move vaccines, but they need more doses, visibility to supply, and sufficient money to acquire and deliver them. This is quickly turning into a logistics and financing challenge, and we know how to solve those types of problems. A consolidated global dashboard that provides real-time vaccine production and availability data will enable countries and global institutions to collaborate on filling access gaps. While donations to COVAX were slow to arrive, current funding can support delivery to about 30% of the population in lower- and middle-income countries. It’s a good start, and funding for 70% coverage in the lowest income countries needs to be made available by mid-2022 along with enhanced delivery capacity at the country level.

2. Contain the Disease

In addition to getting vaccines out to close the global equity gap we also must contain outbreaks as they happen. This can help keep countries out of the cycle of lockdowns that has left schools and businesses in constant flux. To reduce the risk of variants jumping from border to border, the world must invest in readily available rapid testing, a system for sharing genetic sequences, and a mechanism to deliver expertise and commodities (like oxygen, PPE, and life-saving drugs) quickly where they are needed. We’ve seen this done successfully with diseases like polio and malaria—using data to inform actions that bring outbreaks under control. We need to have expert support and response materials like oxygen, PPE, and life-saving drugs ready to deploy in the event of major outbreaks. The private sector has a role to play, using its expertise in logistics to reduce lead times and fill supply gaps.

3. Coordinate the Global Response

The establishment of the Access to COVID-19 Tools Accelerator (ACT-A) in early 2020 was a milestone: governments, international organizations and the private sector came together in response to the crisis. We now need all governments to appoint a COVID-19 global lead, reporting to the head of state, and for these leads to regularly convene through 2022. With the support of independent monitoring this globally coordinated, time-limited task force can complement ACT-A and take us from aspiration to ending the pandemic through collective action and provide a model for the long-term coordination needed to prevent future pandemics.

For people involved in global health, what happened during the pandemic is disappointing, but not a surprise. The system whereby lower-income countries rely on the generosity of high-income country donors broke down when those donor countries were experiencing the same struggles. The next 18 months do not have to look like the past 18 months. But we cannot turn the page on this pandemic until we’ve addressed the fundamental inequity that stands in our way.

I’m optimistic about the potential of this moment. Health is not a zero-sum game—we can meet everyone’s needs through planning, investment, collaboration, and applying lessons learned. The cost of this pandemic has already been unacceptably high. Ending it cannot come at the cost of progress on other global health and development priorities. Reducing poverty, advancing gender equality, and finishing the job of eradicating polio are all possible through the same collective action that is needed to end this pandemic.

For those that want to go deeper, Gargee Ghosh who heads up the policy and advocacy division at the Gates Foundation has shared a white paper with more details on actions the world could take to end the COVID crisis.

I’ve spent a lot of time over the last year meeting with colleagues at our foundation and around the world about ways to test for, treat, and prevent COVID-19. In recent months, the experts in those meetings are increasingly asking the same question: How will new variants impact our efforts to end the pandemic?

The world has come a long way in the fight against COVID-19, but new variants of the virus could threaten progress we’ve made over the past year. Here are five things you should know if you want to understand how variants are (and aren’t) complicating the pandemic.

1. If you’ve ever gotten a flu shot, you’ve already dealt with a virus variant.

Viruses evolve all the time. Unless you work on infectious diseases, the idea of a “variant” might seem new and scary—but there’s nothing particularly unusual about them. Influenza’s ability to mutate quickly (I’ll talk more about this in the next section) is why we get a new flu shot every year. We need to update the vaccine annually to keep up with constantly shifting flu virus strains.

To understand why the virus that causes COVID-19 is changing, you need to understand how it works (or spreads) in your body. The coronavirus—like all viruses—has only one goal: to replicate itself. Every time the virus invades your cells, it tricks the cell into following the instructions encoded in its RNA to make more copies of the virus.

When the cell is making a new virus, it has to copy those instructions. If you’ve ever had to take a typing class in school, you know how hard it is to retype something without making a mistake. The code for the virus that causes COVID-19 is around 30,000 letters long. That’s a lot of opportunities to mess up—which the coronavirus often does.

Most mistakes lead to a virus that either is functionally identical or can’t replicate. But every once in a while, there’s a change that makes it easier for the virus to infect people or evade the immune system. When that change starts to spread through a population, a new variant emerges.

2. We’re seeing the same mutations pop up again and again. That may be good news.

All viruses evolve, but not all viruses evolve at the same rate and in the same way. Some, like the flu, change rapidly. Others mutate slowly. Fortunately for us, SARS-CoV-2 is in the latter camp. It mutates about half as fast as the influenza virus.

I know it feels like new variants are popping up all the time right now. That’s because there is so much virus circulating around the world, giving it more opportunities to change. Once case numbers go down, I suspect we’ll see new variants emerge much less often.

Compared to influenza viruses—which are made up of eight genetic segments that can be rearranged in lots of different ways—the coronavirus is a much simpler virus. The most notable mutations we’ve seen so far have happened in the same spot: the spike protein that sticks out of the surface of the virus.

That spike protein is the key to COVID’s spread. Its shape is what enables the virus to grab onto human cells. If the spike protein changes just a little, it might bind with cells more effectively (which makes the virus more transmissible) or become harder for the immune system to target (which makes people more susceptible to it). But if it changes too much, the virus can no longer gain the entry that’s key to its lifecycle.

That limited capacity for change may explain why we keep seeing the same mutations appear in different places rather than lots of distinct variations. Both B.1.1.7 (which was originally detected in the UK) and B.1.351 (which was first found in South Africa) evolved independently, yet they share a number of the same mutations. There’s clearly something about these specific mutations that makes them more likely to succeed than other changes.

Some experts think we may have already seen the most concerning mutations that this virus is capable of. But COVID-19 has surprised us before, of course, and it could surprise us again.

3. The virus is changing, but the path to ending the pandemic remains the same.

For the last year, public health experts have been repeating some form of the same message: we need to contain COVID-19 as best we can until the vaccine is ready and available for everyone.

The good news is that many of the vaccines being used today appear to prevent severe disease, even from the new variants. This is a tribute to how effective the vaccines are in general. We still need a lot more data about how effective every vaccine is against the different variants, but many of the early numbers are reassuring (especially out of Israel, where many people are already vaccinated and the B.1.1.7 strain is dominant).

The big question now is whether we need to update the vaccines to target the variants. Regulators and drug companies are working on a modified vaccine that could be out in a couple months if it’s deemed necessary. Here in the United States—where the majority of people will likely be vaccinated by the end of the summer—some people may end up getting a booster shot that protects against additional strains.

For now, the key is to keep following best practices. The best way to prevent new variants from emerging is by stopping transmission of the virus altogether. If we remain vigilant about social distancing, wearing a mask, and getting vaccinated, we will bring the pandemic to an end much sooner.

4. Variants make it even more important that vaccines are made available everywhere.

COVID-19 anywhere is a threat to health everywhere. That’s true with the original virus, and it’s true when it comes to variants.

The more the virus that causes COVID-19 is out there in the world, the more opportunities it has to evolve—and to develop new ways of fighting our defenses against it. If we don’t get the vaccine out to every corner of the planet, we’ll have to live with the possibility that a much worse strain of the virus will emerge. We could even see a new variant emerge that evades existing vaccines altogether.

No one wants that to happen. The best way to make sure it doesn’t is by getting the vaccine out to everyone who needs it, no matter where they live. That’s why our foundation is working with governments, vaccine manufacturers, organizations like CEPI and Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance, and others to deliver COVID-19 vaccines to low-income countries through an initiative called COVAX.

COVAX recently announced that it’ll be able to deliver 300 million doses by mid-2021. That’s great news, but the world is going to need a lot more if we’re going to truly stamp out the threat of COVID-19.  I hope rich world countries continue to support COVAX’s work, even as life starts to get back to normal in some parts of the world over the summer.

5. We can do better next time.

Virus variants are inevitable. If we ever find ourselves in a pandemic scenario again where a pathogen is spreading around the globe, we should expect to see it adapt to survive our attempts to stop it—just as we saw with COVID-19. I hope the difference next time is that we’re better prepared to spot these variants earlier.

The key will be genetic sequencing in combination with better disease surveillance. Right now, if you test positive for COVID-19, there’s a possibility that your test sample gets selected to be sequenced. This lets researchers see the exact 30,000 letter code that makes up the virus’ RNA instructions. That code gets uploaded to a database, where a computer compares the virus in your sample to all the other strains in circulation. . If you have a new strain that’s starting to pop up over and over in your area, scientists can compare the sequence data to transmission, death, and hospitalization rates to see if there’s need for concern.

Researchers need to take a systematic approach to catch variants early. Some experts think we need to sequence at least 5 percent of all test samples to get an accurate picture of how a pathogen is mutating—although sequencing a large number of samples alone isn’t enough. The UK has analyzed nearly 8 percent of its tests and linked that data with their surveillance capabilities, which helped them see that B.1.1.7 was spreading much faster and was more lethal. South Africa was able to quickly see how vaccines worked on B.1.351 by comparing results from clinical trials there to sequenced data.

The tools we’re putting in place to monitor variants in this pandemic will prove invaluable long after the worst of COVID-19 is behind us. Widespread sequencing should be part of any plan to prepare for the next pandemic. If you’re doing enough sequencing and comparing that data with other measures, you can see concerning variants when they first emerge. The earlier you identify a change, the more time you have to study it and, if needed, to tune vaccines and therapeutics to address any changes that have taken place.

There’s no doubt that variants complicate our efforts to bring an end to this pandemic. Even once the worst is behind us, we’ll need to remain vigilant. Fortunately, we know what we need to do to stop them from emerging. For now, the best thing you can do to protect yourself is to follow public health guidelines and get vaccinated as soon as you’re eligible.  

When it comes to killing humans, no other animal—not sharks, snakes, or crocodiles—is as deadly as the mosquito.

But in the fight against dengue fever, one kind of mosquito has been transformed into a surprisingly powerful ally to save and improve lives.

Dengue fever is a virus spread through bites by the Aedes aegypti mosquito. Nicknamed “breakbone fever” because of the severe pain it causes, dengue infects about 400 million people every year and kills more than 20,000. Warming temperatures due to climate change have expanded the geographic range of the mosquitoes, driving up the number of dengue cases in recent years.

Researchers with the World Mosquito Program, however, have been working on a breakthrough that just might defeat dengue for good.

This breakthrough relies on a tiny bacterium called Wolbachia and the Aedes aegypti mosquito.

Wolbachia is a common and harmless bacterium found in 60 percent of all insects, including fruit flies, bees, moths, and butterflies. But it’s not found in Aedes aegyptiWolbachia mosquitoes. More than a decade ago, researchers made a surprising discovery about . If Wolbachia Aedes aegyptiWolbachiais given to  mosquitoes, it blocks them from transmitting the dengue virus. Researchers learned that spreads rapidly among mosquitoes when they mate, blocking the spread of dengue from one generation of mosquitoes to the next.

All this initial research was done in a lab setting. The next step was to test whether this approach would work in the real world. If Wolbachia mosquitoes were released into a community, would it lead to a reduction in dengue cases?

That’s the experiment the World Mosquito Program, a non-profit working to stop the spread of dengue and other mosquito-borne diseases, has been conducting in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. (Our foundation has been a proud funder of this research. In 2014, I visited Yogyakarta to see this work just as it was getting started. I even helped feed some of the Wolbachia-carrying mosquitoes!)

As part of a randomized controlled trial, researchers released Wolbachia mosquitoes in parts of Yogyakarta, which has some of the highest rates of dengue fever in the country.

Setting mosquitoes free in people’s neighborhoods is, of course, an unconventional solution to fight dengue. To earn public trust, researchers collaborated closely with the local community. They met with thousands of people in the city and addressed their questions and concerns about the program.

This public outreach effort took years. But it was worth it.

In June, the New England Journal of Medicine published the results of the trial, which show that the Wolbachia-carrying mosquitoes reduced the number of dengue cases by 77 percent and dengue hospitalizations by 86 percent.

Now, the World Mosquito Program is working to expand this effort in other parts of the world where dengue is a threat, including cities in Sri Lanka, Vietnam, Brazil, Colombia, Mexico, Australia, and Fiji.

This effort can be effective in preventing not only dengue, but also Zika, yellow fever, and other diseases transmitted by Aedes aegypti mosquitoes.

It’s hard to overstate the impact the World Mosquito Program may have on communities at risk of these diseases. Every dollar spent on this effort is expected to deliver $4 in economic benefits by saving billions of dollars in health care costs and preventing billions of hours of lost productivity due to illness.

I look forward to sharing more news about this incredible project in the years ahead.

At the start of the pandemic, many people feared that not only would COVID-19 itself be a disaster, but the lockdowns and other prevention methods would have an awful ripple effect: disrupting the fight against malaria in a catastrophic way.

A modeling analysis from the World Health Organization, which I shared here last year, found that annual malaria deaths in sub-Saharan Africa could double, returning to death rates not seen in over 20 years.

A year later, I’m happy to be able to report that this worst-case scenario, at least for now, has been avoided. This is thanks to the leadership of African countries, which quickly adapted their malaria programs to meet the challenges of the pandemic. Practicing social distancing and other safety measures, malaria workers were able to carry out their duties, delivering long-lasting insecticide-treated bed nets, controlling mosquito populations with indoor spraying, and providing preventive treatment for pregnant women and children. In Nigeria, which still suffers from 60 million cases of malaria each year, health workers managed to even increase their delivery of malaria control, protecting millions of children in one of their largest campaigns to date.

At the same time, malaria resources have served double duty, tackling the mosquito-borne disease and helping to control the spread of COVID-19.

In Zambia, the scientists and equipment in the National Malaria Elimination Program’s genomic surveillance laboratory used to monitor malaria drug resistance quickly pivoted to find COVID-19 variants in the country. In Mozambique, an app created for health workers to provide real-time reporting of malaria cases and fevers has supplied critical data to the national COVID response.

Despite this progress, our work is not over. Malaria still kills more than 400,000 people each year. And pandemic lockdowns and movement restrictions have hampered some critical malaria activities, including access to diagnosis and treatment efforts in Africa.

Still, I’m optimistic that a world without malaria is within reach. And the COVID-19 pandemic reminds us why eradicating malaria is essential. Many of the building blocks we need to fight malaria and prevent the next pandemic are the same: accurate, real-time data; reliable supply chains to bring medicines and resources where they are needed most; and cross-country collaboration.

Investments in malaria programs help build stronger health systems that will not only save lives and bring an end to malaria, but also protect us from the next pandemic. And that creates a healthier, safer world for all.

Ten years ago, our foundation challenged the world to reinvent the toilet.

To raise awareness of this challenge, I shared a stage with a jar of human feces.

Took a giant whiff of pit latrine odor.

Drank water made from fecal sludge.

And convinced Jimmy Fallon to drink it too.

All these stunts got some laughs, but my goal was to draw attention to a serious problem: poor sanitation.

About 3.6 billion people—nearly half of the world’s population—lack toilets or use unsafe sanitation.

Living without a toilet is more than an inconvenience. It’s dangerous. Unsafe sanitation means contaminated water, soil, and food. It causes illness and death.

According to the latest estimates, diarrhea and other sanitation-related diseases kill nearly 500,000 children under the age of five every year.

As the world gets more crowded, the human toll of unsafe sanitation will only increase. The United Nations estimates that between now and 2050, the world’s population will grow by two billion people. More than 90 percent of that growth will be concentrated in cities and in developing countries—places that are least likely to have good sanitation.

The COVID pandemic has also served as a powerful reminder of the urgent work households and cities must do to contain and treat deadly pathogens.

But this sanitation crisis can be solved.

In 2011, our foundation’s Reinvent the Toilet Challenge asked researchers if they could develop safe sanitation solutions that work without relying on sewage systems or running water. (Sewers and treatment plants have historically been the best way to safely process waste, but they are extremely expensive to build, maintain, and operate. They also rely on large amounts of water when many countries are suffering from water shortages.)

In the decade since we launched this challenge, the world has responded with the power of innovation. Scientists and engineers from across the globe developed hundreds of exciting ideas for how to design toilets that safely process human waste with little or no need for water or electricity. They created toilets that convert feces into valuable resources, including fertilizer, clean water, and electricity.

Other researchers invented a new system to process fecal sludge from pit latrines, septic tanks and sewers that turns human waste from entire communities into drinkable water and electricity. These machines, called omni-processors, can be used to support a fecal sludge treatment plant or complement a waste-water treatment plant. And they require a fraction of the energy, space and cost that a traditional sewer and wastewater treatment plant require.

In the next phase of the Reinvent the Toilet work, a team of researchers led by Dr. Shannon Yee at Georgia Institute of Technology is taking the best of these ideas to develop a low-cost reinvented toilet. It’s called the Generation 2 Reinvented Toilet. You can read more about the progress Shannon and his team have made here.

To be sure, there are still challenges ahead to bring these innovations to market so that they can transform the lives of the billions of people who need them.

But I’m optimistic about what can be accomplished in the next 10 years and beyond.

Nearly three years ago, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi made one of the boldest comments on public health that I have ever heard from an elected official. It's still having a big impact today.

He made the comment during his first speech to the nation commemorating India's Independence Day. Modi said: “We are living in the 21st century. Has it ever pained us that our mothers and sisters have to defecate in the open?... The poor womenfolk of the village wait for the night; until darkness descends, they can`t go out to defecate. What bodily torture they must be feeling, how many diseases that act might engender. Can`t we make arrangements for toilets for the dignity of our mothers and sisters?”

I can’t think of another time when a national leader has broached such a sensitive topic so frankly and so publicly. Even better, Modi backed up his words with actions. Two months after that speech, he launched a campaign called Clean India (“Swachh Bharat” in Hindi), which now includes ending open defecation nationwide by 2019, installing 75 million toilets throughout the country—75 million!—and making sure that no untreated waste is dumped into the environment.

On my most recent visit to India, I made a video about this amazing undertaking:

If you’re wondering why the Prime Minister would put a spotlight on a subject that most of us would rather not even think about, take a look at the statistics. Of the 1.7 million people worldwide who die from unsafe water, sanitation, and hygiene each year, more than 600,000 are in India. A quarter of young girls there drop out of school because there’s no decent toilet available. When you factor in the deaths, sickness, and lost opportunity, poor sanitation costs India more than $106 billion a year.

In other words, solving this problem will save hundreds of thousands of lives every year, help girls stay in school, and boost the country’s economy. Improving sanitation is a big focus for our foundation, and we’re working closely with the Indian government in support of its goals.

There are two keys to achieving the targets of Clean India. One involves giving everyone access to a well-managed toilet, which means all the waste is treated (either on-site or in a treatment facility) to remove the pathogens that make people sick. It’s crucial to get the entire process right, from containing the waste in a toilet to collecting it, transporting it if necessary, and treating it. If one link in the chain fails, people still get sick.

Unfortunately, in many places, it’s not feasible to lay down sewer pipes or build treatment facilities. That’s why Indian researchers are testing a variety of new tools, including redesigned toilets that don’t require sewer systems and advanced ways to treat human waste.

So far, the progress is impressive. In 2014, when Clean India began, just 42 percent of Indians had access to proper sanitation. Today 63 percent do. And the government has a detailed plan to finish the job by October 2, 2019, the 150^th anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi’s birth. Officials know which states are on track and which are lagging behind, thanks to a robust reporting system that includes photographing and geotagging each newly installed toilet.

But giving people access to toilets isn’t enough. You also have to persuade them to use the toilets. That’s the second key to Clean India, and in some ways it is even harder than the first. People can be reluctant to change old habits.

Clean India has ingenious ways of tackling that problem. In some communities, groups of children band together to call out people who are defecating in the open and encourage them to use public toilets instead. In a pilot project that will be expanded next year, the government worked with Google so users in 11 cities could search online for the nearest public toilets, get directions, and read reviews by other users. On streets throughout the country, billboards remind passers-by of the mission. Stars from Bollywood films and cricket teams speak out on TV and radio. Even India’s currency features the Swachh Bharat logo.

The hard work is paying off. Today more than 30 percent of Indian villages have been declared free of open defecation, up from 8 percent in 2015. (You can track the progress on this handy dashboard.)

What I love most about Clean India is that it identified a big problem, got everyone working on it, and is using measurement to show where things need to be done differently. As the old saying goes, What gets measured gets done. If you don’t set ambitious targets and chart your progress, you end up settling for business as usual—and in this case, business as usual would mean poor sanitation keeps killing more than half a million Indians every year.

By aiming high, the people of India are demanding change, and they are taking action to make it happen. It is a great example for other countries and an inspiration for all of us who believe everyone deserves a chance at a healthy, productive life.

I just traveled halfway around the world to look at a toilet.

If you’re a long-time reader of TGN, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. There are few things I love talking about more. Sanitation is one of the most important issues we work on. I even drank water made from human feces a couple years ago.

That’s why I’m so excited to visit Beijing, China this week for the Reinvented Toilet Expo, where some of the most high-tech toilets in the world will be on display.

The toilets at the expo aren’t just fascinating gadgets—they have the potential to save millions of lives. More than half of the world’s population uses unsafe sanitation facilities. Even in places where people have access to toilets or pit latrines, their waste isn’t disposed of safely. The pathogens from the waste find their way into the local water supply and makes people sick.

The diseases caused by contaminated water kill more than 500,000 children under five every year. Those who survive are often too sick to go to school. It’s no exaggeration to say that poor sanitation holds back whole communities and entire nations.

If you live in a level 3 or 4 country, you can thank your sewer system for keeping you safe. Sewers have historically been the best way to make sure waste isn’t releasing harmful pathogens into the environment.

But what if you didn’t need a sewer to keep people safe? What if your toilet could dispose of waste all on its own?

Here in China, I get to see this and several other amazing new inventions that could deliver on the promise of sewer-less toilets.

Our foundation has invested a lot of money to develop a pipeline of next-generation sanitation solutions. In 2011, we launched the Reinvent the Toilet challenge. Many of the solutions created for that challenge are now ready to license. A remarkable cohort of engineers, scientists, companies, and universities around the world has done the hard work of getting a safe, off-grid sanitation market ready for take-off. My hope is that this week’s showcase moves their hard work one step closer to being used by real people around the world.

Each of these toilets seeks to solve the same problem, but they’ve all taken a different approach to get there. (The video above explains what specifically makes each toilet special.) Several run on solar power, so they can operate off-grid.

Others generate their own power, like the Cranfield nanomembrane toilet. Opening or closing its lid moves a screw that separates liquids from solids. A gasifier converts the solids into ash and heat that is used to operate the toilet.

A big theme for next-gen toilets is the ability to turn waste into something useful. The Ecosan extracts clean water, which is safe to use for hand-washing. The water created by Duke University’s neighborhood treatment system can be used to flush toilets or supplement fertilizer. The University of South Florida’s New Generator even collects methane gas for cooking or heating.

Another common feature involves burning waste to get rid of it (I apologize if you’re eating right now, but there’s no delicate way to describe this). The Janicki Firelight dries out urine and feces, turning them into sterile ash and water.

As you might have guessed, these toilets are a lot more complicated than your average toilet. Just look at the maintenance panel used to operate a public restroom:

The user experience for each is more or less the same as any other toilet, though. Most of the magic happens behind the scenes.

I know most people wouldn’t describe what toilets do as magical, but I think it’s true in this case. Think about it: the toilet hasn’t really changed in more than a century. If you could go back in time to the mid-1800s, you’d find flush toilets that work basically the same as the toilet in your home. And if you live somewhere with pit latrines, toilet design has stayed the same for even longer.

The toilets on display here in Beijing might one day replace a piece of technology that’s been with us for ages—and they could save millions of lives in the process.

Earlier this year, I shared a video where I drank water made from feces. (My review: It was delicious.) Today the machine that produced the water, the Janicki Omni Processor—or JOP—is in Dakar, Senegal, as part of a pilot project that could ultimately save lives and reduce disease in poor countries. Here’s an update on where things stand:

You may recall that the JOP takes human waste and turns it into drinking water, electricity, and ash. (It is actually one of several Omni Processors being developed that treat human waste and produce something of value.) It’s tempting to focus on the drinking water, for obvious reasons. But the goal is not to provide water. The goal is to dramatically improve sanitation for all the cities in poor countries.

Today at least 2 billion people use latrines that aren’t properly drained, and diseases caused by poor sanitation kill some 700,000 children every year. Unfortunately, rich-world solutions aren’t feasible in poor countries—they require too much expensive infrastructure. (We put together this slideshow so you can see how the system works in Dakar today and how the JOP fits in.) The idea behind every Omni Processor design is to solve this problem by making sanitation affordable for the poor.

We think we have solved the big engineering challenges, thanks to ingenious design work by our partners Janicki Bioenergy. The technology just keeps getting better: The next version of the machine will burn most types of garbage in addition to human waste, and it will be easier to maintain. We also think we have a good business plan. Janicki is discussing the sale of the first JOP to a Senegalese company, and they’re talking to potential buyers in wealthier countries too.

But business plans and brilliant engineering are not enough. The machine has to be tested—and unlike a computer program, sanitation machines can’t be tested from a desk in Seattle. The real world introduces lots of variables. For example, you have to find the right personnel to run the machine. You have to work with local and national governments and gauge the public’s reaction.

So it is great that we are now on the learning curve with a unit in the field. So far, the results on all fronts have been promising. The JOP is working as predicted. The partners in Dakar, especially the national sanitation utility, have been fantastic—you can see in the video how energetic and optimistic they are. At every step, we’re learning and will incorporate what we find in future designs and operating plans. For example, the team is still looking at ways to make the JOP cheaper and smaller.

Much of the technology involved in the JOP has been around for years. So why hasn’t anyone built one before now? Because the people who understood the technology weren’t getting sick or dying from contaminated water, and they didn’t know anyone who was. Nor was it clear how they could make a profit by working on the problem. It was a classic market failure.

Now we have a business plan, an impassioned team of engineers, great in-country partners, and a pilot project in motion. I think we have a real shot at solving the sanitation problem. This is a great example of what can happen when we get bright people focused on the world’s biggest problems.

The next time you flush a toilet, consider this: 1 billion people defecate in the open. Another 4 billion use rudimentary toilets and their waste is never treated.

I have visited communities where this is a sobering fact of life. The smell can be overwhelming, but even worse, the sewage seeps into the water supply, spreading disease. Poor sanitation is linked to the deaths of some 700,000 children every year.

Our foundation is funding the Omni Processor, a machine that we hope will make sanitation affordable.

Dr. Mbaye Mbeguere is one of the Senegalese officials leading this pilot project. You can see the Janicki OP behind him. Dr. Mbeguere and his colleagues hope Omni Processors will change the face of sanitation in cities around the world. I am optimistic that they are right.

I watched the piles of feces go up the conveyer belt and drop into a large bin. They made their way through the machine, getting boiled and treated. A few minutes later I took a long taste of the end result: a glass of delicious drinking water.

The occasion was a tour of a facility that burns human waste and produces water and electricity (plus a little ash). I have visited lots of similar sites, like power plants and paper mills, so when I heard about this one—it’s part of the Gates Foundation’s effort to improve sanitation in poor countries—I was eager to check it out.

The water tasted as good as any I’ve had out of a bottle. And having studied the engineering behind it, I would happily drink it every day. It’s that safe.

Here’s a short video from my visit in November, which explains how it all works:

Why would anyone want to turn waste into drinking water and electricity?

Because a shocking number of people, at least 2 billion, use latrines that aren’t properly drained. Others simply defecate out in the open. The waste contaminates drinking water for millions of people, with horrific consequences: Diseases caused by poor sanitation kill some 700,000 children every year, and they prevent many more from fully developing mentally and physically.

If we can develop safe, affordable ways to get rid of human waste, we can prevent many of those deaths and help more children grow up healthy.

Western toilets aren’t the answer, because they require a massive infrastructure of sewer lines and treatment plants that just isn’t feasible in many poor countries. So a few years ago our foundation put out a call for new solution.

One idea is to reinvent the toilet, which I’ve written about before.

Another idea—and the goal of the project I toured—is to reinvent the sewage treatment plant. The project is called the Omniprocessor, and it was designed and built by Janicki Bioenergy, an engineering firm based north of Seattle. I recently went to Janicki’s headquarters to check out an Omniprocessor before the start of a pilot project in Senegal.

The Omniprocessor is a safe repository for human waste. Today, in many places without modern sewage systems, truckers take the waste from latrines and dump it into the nearest river or the ocean—or at a treatment facility that doesn’t actually treat the sewage. Either way, it often ends up in the water supply. If they took it to the Omniprocessor instead, it would be burned safely. The machine runs at such a high temperature (1000 degrees Celsius) that there’s no nasty smell; in fact it meets all the emissions standards set by the U.S. government.

Before we even started the tour, I had a question: Don’t modern sewage plants already incinerate waste? I learned that some just turn the waste into solids that are stored in the desert. Others burn it using diesel or some other fuel that they buy. That means they use a lot of energy, which makes them impractical in most poor countries.

The Omniprocessor solves that problem. Through the ingenious use of a steam engine, it produces more than enough energy to burn the next batch of waste. In other words, it powers itself, with electricity to spare. The next-generation processor, more advanced than the one I saw, will handle waste from 100,000 people, producing up to 86,000 liters of potable water a day and a net 250 kw of electricity.

If we get it right, it will be a good example of how philanthropy can provide seed money that draws bright people to work on big problems, eventually creating a self-supporting industry. Our foundation is funding Janicki to do the development. It’s really amazing to see how they’ve embraced the work; founder Peter Janicki and his family have traveled to Africa and India multiple times so they can see the scope of the problem. Our goal is to make the processors cheap enough that entrepreneurs in low- and middle-income countries will want to invest in them and then start profitable waste-treatment businesses.

We still have a lot to learn before we get to that point. The next step is the pilot project; later this year, Janicki will set up an Omniprocessor in Dakar, Senegal, where they’ll study everything from how you connect with the local community (the team is already working with leaders there) to how you pick the most convenient location. They will also test one of the coolest things I saw on my tour: a system of sensors and webcams that will let Janicki’s engineers control the processor remotely and communicate with the team in Dakar so they can diagnose any problems that come up.

The history of philanthropy is littered with well-intentioned inventions that never deliver on their promise. Hopefully, these early steps will help us make sure the Omniprocessor doesn’t join the list. If things go well in Senegal, we’ll start looking for partners in the developing world. For example I think it could be a great fit in India, where there are lots of entrepreneurs who could own and operate the processors, as well as companies with the skill to manufacture many of the parts.

It might be many years before the processor is being used widely. But I was really impressed with Janicki’s engineering. And I’m excited about the business model. The processor wouldn’t just keep human waste out of the drinking water; it would turn waste into a commodity with real value in the marketplace. It’s the ultimate example of that old expression: one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

Most people today probably don’t know what this is.

And that’s a good thing because it shows how much progress the world has made against polio, a terrible and now largely forgotten disease.

This metal tank is an iron lung, a mechanical respirator that saved the lives of thousands of polio victims.

Polio attacks the body’s nervous system, crippling patients. In the worst cases, the disease paralyzes their respiratory muscles and makes it difficult for them to breathe, sometimes resulting in death. 

Using changes in air pressure, the iron lung pulls air in and out of a patient’s lungs, allowing them to breathe and stay alive.

During the height of the polio epidemic in the U.S. in the 1940s and 1950s, rows of iron lungs filled hospital wards to treat thousands of polio patients, most of them children.

Whenever someone asks me why I believe it’s possible to eradicate polio, I tell them about my 2010 trip to India to visit one of the country’s lowest castes—the Musahar.

Today, India is polio free. But less than a decade ago, more than half the world’s cases of polio could be found in India. At the time, many health experts said that India would be the last place on Earth to stop polio because its high birth rate, poor sanitation, and population density allowed the disease to flourish.

So how did they wipe out the disease?

The answer can be found in the remote marshlands of the Kosi River in the Indian state of Bihar. The region is home to one of the poorest, most underserved castes in India, the Musahar. In 2010, vaccinating the Musahar and other people living in remote, high-risk areas was one of the biggest obstacles India faced in its long campaign to end the paralyzing disease. Thousands of children were being missed during the national immunization drives, allowing the disease to continue to spread.

In response, the Indian government launched an all-out effort to reach every child, employing a new communication campaign to mobilize support for polio immunization and better maps to ensure that no family was missed. They deployed more than 2 million vaccinators who covered every speck of the country, including the Musahar village I visited, which was often inaccessible because of flooding from the Kosi River. (One of the most inspiring photographs of that time was an image of polio workers wading waste deep in water to reach remote villages with the polio vaccine.)

By 2014, India achieved its goal of being polio free, proving that the paralyzing disease could be defeated in the most complicated circumstances. With new ties to even the remotest communities, health workers are providing children with much more than the polio vaccine. They continue to work with local communities to improve the delivery of other critical health services, including maternal and newborn care, as well as vaccinations for measles and other preventable diseases.

India’s experience continues to be an inspiration for the world’s final push to wipe out polio in the three countries where it endures: Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Nigeria. Based on the latest figures, in 2017, there were just 21 identified cases of wild poliovirus in the world—the lowest number ever—down from 350,000 cases per year when the global polio eradication effort launched in 1988.

That’s an incredible achievement. But now is no time for complacency. If polio is a threat anywhere in the world, it is a threat to us all. That’s why it’s more important than ever for the world to continue to support the millions of vaccinators who are working tirelessly to finish the job. Their dream, as is mine, is to see the day that polio is defeated.

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.

Vaccines have been saving lives for centuries. But from the time Edward Jenner created the first vaccine in the late 1700s, not everyone has had equal access to them. As a result, children in some parts of the world continued to die from diseases that were preventable in other parts.

When Melinda and I learned about this inequity over twenty years ago, we thought it was infuriating—and deeply unfair. So, in 2000, our foundation teamed up with countries whose children were impacted the most, the World Health Organization, the World Bank, UNICEF, vaccine manufactures, and donors to do something about it. Together, we created an organization called Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance.

Gavi works with governments to make sure that every child has access to the lifesaving vaccines they need. The organization makes this happen by negotiating vaccines at prices that are affordable for the poorest countries. Since Gavi guarantees high volumes, manufacturers are able to lower the cost of vaccines quite dramatically. Gavi also helps low-income countries strengthen systems to deliver vaccines to all communities.

Over the last two decades, Gavi has helped vaccinate more than 760 million children and prevented more than 13 million deaths. That’s a truly amazing result.

Governments and partners from around the world are meeting virtually today to raise funds for Gavi’s next five years of work. This investment is more important than ever before, because Gavi is going to play a key role in making sure that, when we have COVID-19 vaccines, they reach the most vulnerable people. Their expertise and experience in distributing vaccines will be invaluable as we work to end this outbreak once and for all.

One of the questions I get asked the most these days is when the world will be able to go back to the way things were in December before the coronavirus pandemic. My answer is always the same: when we have an almost perfect drug to treat COVID-19, or when almost every person on the planet has been vaccinated against coronavirus.

The former is unlikely to happen anytime soon. We’d need a miracle treatment that was at least 95 percent effective to stop the outbreak. Most of the drug candidates right now are nowhere near that powerful. They could save a lot of lives, but they aren’t enough to get us back to normal.

Which leaves us with a vaccine.

Humankind has never had a more urgent task than creating broad immunity for coronavirus. Realistically, if we’re going to return to normal, we need to develop a safe, effective vaccine. We need to make billions of doses, we need to get them out to every part of the world, and we need all of this to happen as quickly as possible.

That sounds daunting, because it is. Our foundation is the biggest funder of vaccines in the world, and this effort dwarfs anything we’ve ever worked on before. It’s going to require a global cooperative effort like the world has never seen. But I know it’ll get done. There’s simply no alternative.

Here’s what you need to know about the race to create a COVID-19 vaccine.

The world is creating this vaccine on a historically fast timeline.

Dr. Anthony Fauci has said he thinks it’ll take around eighteen months to develop a coronavirus vaccine. I agree with him, though it could be as little as 9 months or as long as two years.

Although eighteen months might sound like a long time, this would be the fastest scientists have created a new vaccine. Development usually takes around five years. Once you pick a disease to target, you have to create the vaccine and test it on animals. Then you begin testing for safety and efficacy in humans.

Safety and efficacy are the two most important goals for every vaccine. Safety is exactly what it sounds like: is the vaccine safe to give to people? Some minor side effects (like a mild fever or injection site pain) can be acceptable, but you don’t want to inoculate people with something that makes them sick.

Efficacy measures how well the vaccine protects you from getting sick. Although you’d ideally want a vaccine to have 100 percent efficacy, many don’t. For example, this year’s flu vaccine is around 45 percent effective.

To test for safety and efficacy, every vaccine goes through three phases of trials:

• Phase one is the safety trial. A small group of healthy volunteers gets the vaccine candidate. You try out different dosages to create the strongest immune response at the lowest effective dose without serious side effects.
• Once you’ve settled on a formula, you move onto phase two, which tells you how well the vaccine works in the people who are intended to get it. This time, hundreds of people get the vaccine. This cohort should include people of different ages and health statuses.
• Then, in phase three, you give it to thousands of people. This is usually the longest phase, because it occurs in what’s called “natural disease conditions.” You introduce it to a large group of people who are likely already at the risk of infection by the target pathogen, and then wait and see if the vaccine reduces how many people get sick.

After the vaccine passes all three trial phases, you start building the factories to manufacture it, and it gets submitted to the WHO and various government agencies for approval.

This process works well for most vaccines, but the normal development timeline isn’t good enough right now. Every day we can cut from this process will make a huge difference to the world in terms of saving lives and reducing trillions of dollars in economic damage.

So, to speed up the process, vaccine developers are compressing the timeline. This graphic shows how:

In the traditional process, the steps are sequential to address key questions and unknowns. This can help mitigate financial risk, since creating a new vaccine is expensive. Many candidates fail, which is why companies wait to invest in the next step until they know the previous step was successful.

For COVID-19, financing development is not an issue. Governments and other organizations (including our foundation and an amazing alliance called the Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations) have made it clear they will support whatever it takes to find a vaccine. So, scientists are able to save time by doing several of the development steps at once. For example, the private sector, governments, and our foundation are going to start identifying facilities to manufacture different potential vaccines. If some of those facilities end up going unused, that’s okay. It’s a small price to pay for getting ahead on production.

Fortunately, compressing the trial timeline isn’t the only way to take a process that usually takes five years and get it done in 18 months. Another way we’re going to do that is by testing lots of different approaches at the same time.

There are dozens of candidates in the pipeline.

As of April 9, there are 115 different COVID-19 vaccine candidates in the development pipeline. I think that eight to ten of those look particularly promising. (Our foundation is going to keep an eye on all the others to see if we missed any that have some positive characteristics, though.)

The most promising candidates take a variety of approaches to protecting the body against COVID-19. To understand what exactly that means, it’s helpful to remember how the human immune system works.

When a disease pathogen gets into your system, your immune system responds by producing antibodies. These antibodies attach themselves to substances called antigens on the surface of the microbe, which sends a signal to your body to attack. Your immune system keeps a record of every microbe it has ever defeated, so that it can quickly recognize and destroy invaders before they make you ill.

Vaccines circumvent this whole process by teaching your body how to defeat a pathogen without ever getting sick. The two most common types—and the ones you’re probably most familiar with—are inactivated and livevaccines. Inactivated vaccines contain pathogens that have been killed. Live vaccines, on the other hand, are made of living pathogens that have been weakened (or “attenuated”). They’re highly effective but more prone to side effects than their inactivated counterparts.

Inactivated and live vaccines are what we consider “traditional” approaches. There are a number of COVID-19 vaccine candidates of both types, and for good reason: they’re well-established. We know how to test and manufacture them.

The downside is that they’re time-consuming to make. There’s a ton of material in each dose of a vaccine. Most of that material is biological, which means you have to grow it. That takes time, unfortunately.

That’s why I’m particularly excited by two new approaches that some of the candidates are taking: RNA and DNA vaccines. If one of these new approaches pans out, we’ll likely be able to get vaccines out to the whole world much faster. (For the sake of simplicity, I’m only going to explain RNA vaccines. DNA vaccines are similar, just with a different type of genetic material and method of administration.)

Our foundation—both through our own funding and through CEPI—has been supporting the development of an RNA vaccine platform for nearly a decade. We were planning to use it to make vaccines for diseases that affect the poor like malaria, but now it’s looking like one of the most promising options for COVID. The first candidate to start human trials was an RNA vaccine created by a company called Moderna.

Here’s how an RNA vaccine works: rather than injecting a pathogen’s antigen into your body, you instead give the body the genetic code needed to produce that antigen itself. When the antigens appear on the outside of your cells, your immune system attacks them—and learns how to defeat future intruders in the process. You essentially turn your body into its own vaccine manufacturing unit.

Because RNA vaccines let your body do most of the work, they don’t require much material. That makes them much faster to manufacture. There’s a catch, though: we don’t know for sure yet if RNA is a viable platform for vaccines. Since COVID would be the first RNA vaccine out of the gate, we have to prove both that the platform itself works and that it creates immunity. It’s a bit like building your computer system and your first piece of software at the same time.

Even if an RNA vaccine continues to show promise, we still must continue pursuing the other options. We don’t know yet what the COVID-19 vaccine will look like. Until we do, we have to go full steam ahead on as many approaches as possible.

It might not be a perfect vaccine yet—and that’s okay.

The smallpox vaccine is the only vaccine that’s wiped an entire disease off the face of the earth, but it’s also pretty brutal to receive. It left a scar on the arm of anyone who got it. One out of every three people had side effects bad enough to keep them home from school or work. A small—but not insignificant—number developed more serious reactions.

The smallpox vaccine was far from perfect, but it got the job done. The COVID-19 vaccine might be similar.

If we were designing the perfect vaccine, we’d want it to be completely safe and 100 percent effective. It should be a single dose that gives you lifelong protection, and it should be easy to store and transport. I hope the COVID-19 vaccine has all of those qualities, but given the timeline we’re on, it may not.

The two priorities, as I mentioned earlier, are safety and efficacy. Since we might not have time to do multi-year studies, we will have to conduct robust phase 1 safety trials and make sure we have good real-world evidence that the vaccine is completely safe to use.

We have a bit more wiggle room with efficacy. I suspect a vaccine that is at least 70 percent effective will be enough to stop the outbreak. A 60 percent effective vaccine is useable, but we might still see some localized outbreaks. Anything under 60 percent is unlikely to create enough herd immunity to stop the virus.

The big challenge will be making sure the vaccine works well in older people. The older you are, the less effective vaccines are. Your immune system—like the rest of your body—ages and is slower to recognize and attack invaders. That’s a big issue for a COVID-19 vaccine, since older people are the most vulnerable. We need to make sure they’re protected.

The shingles vaccine—which is also targeted to older people—combats this by amping up the strength of the vaccine. It’s possible we do something similar for COVID, although it might come with more side effects. Health authorities could also ask people over a certain age to get an additional dose.

Beyond safety and efficacy, there are a couple other factors to consider:

• How many doses will it be? A vaccine you only get once is easier and quicker to deliver. But we may need a multi-dose vaccine to get enough efficacy.
• How long does it last? Ideally, the vaccine will give you long-lasting protection. But we might end up with one that only stops you from getting sick for a couple months (like the seasonal flu vaccine, which protects you for about six months). If that happens, the short-term vaccine might be used while we work on a more durable one.
• How do you store it? Many common vaccines are kept at 4 degrees C. That’s around the temperature of your average refrigerator, so storage and transportation is easy. But RNA vaccines need to be stored at much colder temperature—as low as -80 degrees C—which will make reaching certain parts of the world more difficult.

My hope is that the vaccine we have 18 months from now is as close to “perfect” as possible. Even if it isn’t, we will continue working to improve it. After that happens, I suspect the COVID-19 vaccine will become part of the routine newborn immunization schedule.

Once we have a vaccine, though, we still have huge problems to solve. That’s because…

We need to manufacture and distribute at least 7 billion doses of the vaccine.

In order to stop the pandemic, we need to make the vaccine available to almost every person on the planet. We’ve never delivered something to every corner of the world before. And, as I mentioned earlier, vaccines are particularly difficult to make and store.

There’s a lot we can’t figure out about manufacturing and distributing the vaccine until we know what exactly we’re working with. For example, will we be able to use existing vaccine factories to make the COVID-19 vaccine?

What we can do now is build different kinds of vaccine factories to prepare. Each vaccine type requires a different kind of factory. We need to be ready with facilities that can make each type, so that we can start manufacturing the final vaccine (or vaccines) as soon as we can. This will cost billions of dollars. Governments need to quickly find a mechanism for making the funding for this available. Our foundation is currently working with CEPI, the WHO, and governments to figure out the financing.

Part of those discussions center on who will get the vaccine when. The reality is that not everyone will be able to get the vaccine at the same time. It’ll take months—or even years—to create 7 billion doses (or possibly 14 billion, if it’s a multi-dose vaccine), and we should start distributing them as soon as the first batch is ready to go.

Most people agree that health workers should get the vaccine first. But who gets it next? Older people? Teachers? Workers in essential jobs?

I think that low-income countries should be some of the first to receive it, because people will be at a much higher risk of dying in those places. COVID-19 will spread much quicker in poor countries because measures like physical distancing are harder to enact. More people have poor underlying health that makes them more vulnerable to complications, and weak health systems will make it harder for them to receive the care they need. Getting the vaccine out in low-income countries could save millions of lives. The good news is we already have an organization with expertise about how to do this in Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance.

With most vaccines, manufacturers sign a deal with the country where their factories are located, so that country gets first crack at the vaccines. It’s unclear if that’s what will happen here. I hope we find a way to get it out on an equitable basis to the whole world. The WHO and national health authorities will need to develop a distribution plan once we have a better understanding of what we’re working with.

Eventually, though, we’re going to scale this thing up so that the vaccine is available to everyone. And then, we’ll be able to get back to normal—and to hopefully make decisions that prevent us from being in this situation ever again.

It might be a bit hard to see right now, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. We’re doing the right things to get a vaccine as quickly as possible. In the meantime, I urge you to continue following the guidelines set by your local authorities. Our ability to get through this outbreak will depend on everyone doing their part to keep each other safe.