dothedd
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Joined: Dec 27, 2010 20:43:28 GMT -5
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Post by dothedd on May 1, 2014 13:45:43 GMT -5
Larry Brilliant is humanity's best hope against the next pandemic...
30 APRIL 14
This article was taken from the May 2014 issue of Wired magazine. Be the first to read Wired's articles in print before they're posted online, and get your hands on loads of additional content by subscribing online.
On November 16, 2002, a 45-year-old man was admitted to hospital in Foshan City in Guangdong, China. His condition was consistent with pneumonia, a high fever, muscle aches, shortness of breath, coughing and respiratory difficulties.
Four other members of the patient's family soon fell ill with similar symptoms. Three weeks later, a 35-year-old man was brought from his home in nearby Heyuan to Guangzhou provincial hospital after becoming ill. He infected the doctor who had accompanied him in an ambulance, and then seven of the medical team treating him. Whatever his illness, it was highly infectious: antibiotics proved ineffective, meaning that clinical strategy -- which would later be replicated elsewhere -- amounted to keeping him alive in the hope that his immune systems would fight off the disease.
Clusters of such outbreaks occurred throughout Guangzhou over the following months and, although physicians were acutely aware of the danger that the new, highly communicable disease posed, they were baffled as to its cause. Later analysis revealed that it was a coronavirus -- the virus associated with the common cold. This information confused scientists: it's extremely rare for a coronavirus to kill human beings, yet around 15 per cent of those infected were dying.
According to David Quammen's book Spillover, over the next few weeks 28 cases were recognised in Zhongshan, 95km south of Guangzhou. Symptoms were similar to the earlier cases and included "severe and persistent coughing, coughing up bloody phlegm, and progressive destruction of the lungs, which tended to stiffen and fill with fluid, causing oxygen deprivation that, in some cases, led to organ failure and death."
Then the outbreak really took hold: two "super spreaders" distributed it beyond where it had been found up to that point. The first, Zhou Zuofeng, arrived at Guangzhou hospital with symptoms now familiar to the staff. He transmitted the disease to at least 30 healthcare workers before being transferred to a specialist hospital. On the way, he infected two doctors, two nurses and the ambulance driver. At the second hospital, 23 doctors and nurses, plus 18 other patients and their relatives and 19 members of Zhou's family, became ill, prompting staff at the hospital to name him the Poison King.
On February 21, 2003, Liu Jianlun, a nephrology professor and one of the doctors who had treated Zhou, travelled to Hong Kong to attend his nephew's wedding. While staying at the Hotel Metropole, in the heart of one of the city's busiest shopping districts, he began to feel ill. During his stay, Liu unwittingly infected a number of people who were staying in rooms on the same floor. One of them was a 78-year-old Canadian. On February 22, she boarded a flight for Toronto. Eleven days later, she died, but not before passing the condition on to her son. The virus then spread throughout the hospital where he was treated. Over the following weeks there were at least six transmission chains in Canada; 400 people became seriously ill, 25,000 were placed in quarantine and 44 died.
In late February the Centers for Disease Control -- the US organisation that monitors and responds to emerging health threats -- and the World Health Organisation (WHO) began to investigate. However, scientists were working in the dark; they knew only that the disease was highly contagious, that it made those who contracted it become severely ill and that dozens of people had died (later -- following an admission from the Chinese government -- it would emerge that the number of deaths was in the hundreds). There was no medication -- treatment was limited to administering steroids to reduce inflammation in the lungs.
On March 12, following the news that one of its top epidemiologists had died after contracting the disease in Hanoi, the WHO issued a global health alert for what it called Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS). It was the first time the organisation had taken such a step. The microbe responsible for the disease still hadn't been identified, prompting an unparalleled coming together of global research facilities and laboratories to pool resources. A month later, a team at the Michael Smith Genome Sciences Centre in Vancouver, Canada, announced that it had decoded the virus's DNA. The good news was that the virus wasn't mutating -- its stability meant that it would be possible to develop a vaccine that could target the way in which its proteins latched on to human cells, although this would likely take years. Eventually, public health practices put in place across the world contained the virus.
Mark Smolinski, the epidemiologist behind the Flu Near You programmeJason Madara The 2003 SARS epidemic infected 8,096 people worldwide, killing 744 of them. These are not big numbers compared to other pandemics -- smallpox, black death and flu have killed hundreds of millions since they emerged millennia ago, and the swine flu outbreak of 2009 infected up to 89 million -- but it offered a rapidly globalising world an insight into how quickly an outbreak of a killer disease can cross continents. The so-called Spanish flu pandemic that followed the first world war killed between 50 million to 100 million people. If there were a proportional outbreak today -- when the global population is over seven billion -- there could be upwards of 300 million deaths. SARS, although infectious, wasn't as virulent as first feared, but its effects were amplified by the way carriers moved across the world: there is no evidence that the Canadian woman who brought the disease to Toronto met the Chinese "super spreader" in Hong Kong. It is likely the virus spread through the air in a lift or via a point of contact such as a door handle. Such unfortunate encounters are now part of the modern world.
Once, pathogens could spread only at the speed at which human beings could walk. Now they can move between any major city on Earth within 24 hours, meaning that early detection -- reading the very first signs of an outbreak of a virus such as flu, which has an incubation period of between one and four days -- could be the difference between a localised and treatable situation and a global pandemic. Much is made of the role of technology in the spread of disease; after all, without air travel SARS would have probably remained localised in Asia, instead of spreading rapidly across the globe. Equally, however, governmental communication and co-operation -- prompted by epidemiologists who make the significance of outbreaks clear through early detection -- can mean that disease is contained and controlled.
"If you catch a virus within one incubation period there will only be five cases -- and you can stop it," says the epidemiologist Larry Brilliant. "If you wait seven incubation periods it will be in the thousands. You go a couple more and it's in the billions." The 70-year-old knows something about the spread of disease, having led the WHO team in south Asia that eradicated smallpox. His mission now is to bring together government, the private sector and citizens to develop digital tools to detect outbreaks early. The four months it took for the global health community to mobilise following the outbreak of SARS could prove catastrophic should a more virulent disease emerge. Brilliant is clear about the stakes: "We're in a race against time."
One hazy Bangkok morning last November, Brilliant stands before a group of Thai health officials. He has slicked-back grey hair, a trimmed beard and, despite the warmth, he wears a black suit that causes him to perspire. He has wrapped an LED screen around his torso, which he has programmed with a Raspberry Pi. The red flashing lights make up letters that read: "DETECT DISEASES FASTER". Brilliant has a dry sense of humour and speaks calmly. He often places his hand on the person he is addressing and uses the phrase "but my question is…" to draw them in. He usually runs late, prompting his colleagues to inform him that meeting times are earlier than scheduled in order to guarantee his presence on time.
Brilliant is president of the Skoll Global Threats Fund (SGTF), an organisation funded by billionaire Jeff Skoll, the cofounder of eBay, that seeks to confront threats imperilling humanity. Brilliant and the pandemics team -- Mark Smolinski and Jennifer Olson ("I'm manager of pandemics, which is a really fun title," she says) -- arrived the night before from Cambodia. The Thai Ministry of Health, those working in public health, telcos, Google Thailand, data analysts, academics, social innovators and technologists are all present.
Epidemiologists often use the word "zoonotic" -- meaning diseases that can be communicated between humans and animals. This is because there is not one of them who doesn't think that the next global pandemic will originate from the blood of a wild animal. It might result from a pig that's been bitten by a bat in Thailand; it could be a monkey that's been killed and eaten in a Cameroonian rainforest. (The SARS outbreak was traced back to the civet, a cat-like wild animal eaten throughout southern China.) Deforestation and urbanisation are bringing humans into contact with species and viruses that have, until recently, been deep in natural ecosystems. This close contact gives formerly unknown pathogens the opportunity to move to a new species: human beings. "Those who think that the sharing of vital fluids in sexual relations is the most intimate way that you can exchange genetic material with another person are wrong," Brilliant says. "The most intimate encounter you can have with another creature is to eat it." Brilliant says that the number of wild animals eaten in Africa per year is close to a billion. "Every cell in every piece of bush meat you're eating may represent a novel encounter between a human and an animal that harbours a virus." According to Brilliant, over the past 30 years, three dozen previously unknown viruses have jumped species -- a phenomenon epidemiologists call "spillover".
The first quantitative analysis identifying risk factors for human disease emergence was conducted in 2001 by Louise Taylor, Sophia Latham and Mark Woolhouse at the Centre of Tropical Veterinary Medicine at the University of Edinburgh. "A comprehensive literature review identifies 1,415 species of infectious organisms known to be pathogenic to humans, including 217 viruses and prions, 538 bacteria and rickettsia, 307 fungi, 66 protozoa and 287 helminths. Out of these, 868 (61 per cent) are zoonotic," they wrote. But the part of the paper that is particularly alarming relates to so-called "emerging" pathogens -- infectious organisms that, over the past two decades, have either been detected in humans for the first time, are increasing in incidence or are occurring in regions they had not previously occurred. Seventy-five per cent were found to be zoonotic. "This is substantially more than expected if zoonotic and non-zoonotic species were equally likely to emerge," Taylor et al write.
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