Outbreaks in a Post-COVID World

by Emerson Prentice for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics

Hantavirus through a microscope, via the CDC

"Unlike COVID-19, for many, the horrific memories of the 2014 Ebola outbreak have faded." 

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) responded to a hantavirus outbreak reported on May 2. The outbreak resurfaced panic and fears from the COVID-19 outbreak of the 2020s. Despite reactions, global health organizations like the World Health Organization (WHO) assure the risk from hantavirus to the US is low.  

The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) is experiencing its own outbreak of a different nature—Ebola. On May 15, researchers identified an outbreak of a rare strain. It's a species of Ebola unlike that which scientists have seen before. Both the hantavirus and Ebola virus have confounded scientists tracking the outbreaks because of the unique nature of the strains. 

The two outbreaks in quick succession and in close proximity to the COVID pandemic have shaped public response—fear is top of mind, and trust in public health officials globally is low. Aid has also been lacking as the outbreak has since outpaced the response. 

Like for hantavirus, the CDC says that the risk of Ebola to the US remains low. However, the situation in the DRC continues to be deeply concerning. As of June 3, there have been 62 confirmed deaths from Ebola, though officials from WHO and other public health organizations believe the true death toll may be far higher. They also warn that this outbreak has the potential to be the largest in history, which could, in part, be due to the rollback of aid from the US during the Trump administration. 

Obtaining an exact count of those infected by Ebola is an obstacle, not for lack of testing but for lack of existing tests due to the rare strain. And even when there is sufficient testing available, disseminating results to patients can be a lengthy and difficult process, due to the terrain in the DRC and conflict in the surrounding area. 

Medical officials have further expressed frustration with the speed of the global response, considering the potential severity of the outbreak. The lack of funding invested in proper testing for the disease is playing a role in the slow-moving response. For this strain, there is no vaccine or proven treatment, despite pledges to develop adequate testing and treatments—like those from the company KH Medical—even when it’s not commercially beneficial. 

In the resurgence of Ebola, past survivors like Patrick Faley remind people what the previous outbreak—which took the lives of 11,000—looked like. Unlike COVID-19, for many, the horrific memories of the 2014 Ebola outbreak have faded. 

Photograph from the last Ebola outbreak in West Africa in 2014. Via Getty Images.

Faley outlined how an Ebola outbreak is especially devastating because of the way in which it attacks communities. Families can no longer properly care for their loved ones or carry out rituals with the dead without the danger of infection, particularly because of the lack of protective gear.  

The Trump administration is also taking dramatic precautions to deal with returning passengers to the US who were exposed to the hantavirus. Following a three-week quarantine, they will be closely monitored by public health workers or law enforcement for an additional three weeks. 

These restrictions have exceeded those which were imposed during the hantavirus outbreak in 2018, which was successfully contained. Practices in 2026 are in stark contrast to Trump’s criticisms of ‘overly strict’ COVID-19 restrictions. 

Fear of infection may still be justified, particularly with increasing global travel during the World Cup. For most individuals, though, common infections like respiratory and intestinal viruses would be expected—not Ebola or the hantavirus. Vaccination rates in America, Canada, and other countries have also been falling, which further increases the potential threat of infections to the public. 

Amid the outbreak, the Trump Administration’s focus has been on protecting US soil from infection rather than providing aid. Trump has emphasized isolationist policies despite growing concerns from public health officials about the potential global repercussions. This approach is further highlighted in his travel bans and mandated quarantines in Kenya for US citizens.  

Trump’s response mirrors that which he implemented during the COVID-19 pandemic—the prioritization of a border sealed from external infection. 

On May 18, the CDC and the DRC began implementing travel screening and entry restrictions to manage the outbreak. If you have recently travelled through an affected country, you’re advised to follow travel health notices and seek medical attention if you develop symptoms. 

The danger of the largest Ebola outbreak in history and its global impacts continues to loom amid slow aid reaction, surging fears, and an increasing spread. 

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Emerson Prentice is a Freshman at Stanford studying Anthropology. At school, she is the Campus Life desk editor for the Stanford Daily, a DJ for the campus radio station KZSU, and an associate producer for the Stanford Storytelling Project’s award-winning podcast, “State of the Human.” For fun, Emerson also loves to run, cook, and birdwatch!

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Poet’s Corner: “In the chemo room, I wear mittens made of ice so I don’t lose my fingernails. But I took a risk today to write this down.” by Andrea Gibson

by Mikaela Brewer ​for The 44 North, Senior Editor

“In the chemo room, I wear mittens made of ice so I don’t lose my fingernails. But I took a risk today to write this down.” Copyright © 2023 by Andrea Gibson. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on May 30, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.

Andrea Gibson, courtesy of the Boulder Library Foundation

Note: This poem is not in the public domain! Please use the link above to read it. 

I’ve loved Andrea Gibson’s work for years, and was heartbroken when they passed away not long ago. I’ll always recommend spending time with my favourite poem of theirs, “What Love Is.” But today, honouring the ways the world is raising awareness about cancer throughout April and May, we’re looking at “In the chemo room, I wear mittens made of ice so I don’t lose my fingernails. But I took a risk today to write this down.” 

The first thing you might notice is the length of the title: It’s two sentences, which we don’t see often. But this craft choice sets up the dialogue, structure, and voice of the poem. The title’s language doesn’t appear as succinct or compressed as the poem’s, and through its length and likeness to prose, it tells us how to read the poem: As something brave, as a risk. The content/subject is the act of bravery, but formally it’s supported by writing that begins as two prose-like sentences and takes the risk of becoming a poem instead, like the expansiveness of life transitioning into the (seeming) narrowness of death. 

In the poem, we encounter couplets and many pairs of images—gloves, life and death, etc. The couplet form seems to say 1) ‘this,’ 2) pause for a breath on the hinge of the line break, and then 3) ‘that.’ It’s almost as if the first line is a breath in and the second is a breath out. 

Similarly, there’s an ebb and flow of thinking one thing, and then another—fear followed by belief. The enjambed lines, often across stanza breaks, amplify this stunningly:

“I could survive forever // on death alone. Wasn’t it death that taught me /  to stop measuring my lifespan by length, // but by width?”

Further, the brilliance of this poem is that it reads as if Andrea wrote it down in a notebook (likely they did). But the precision of the diction, syntax, and images is carefully crafted. The woods challenge our notions and metaphors for death and darkness, for example. 

And then, time moves with Andrea’s thoughtful, patient touch.

The spaces between God, basketball, and balloons are presumably only a few seconds of thought, but the seconds of reading time slow and swell, mirroring the expansiveness of a balloon, a court, and God. The careful placing of images and metaphor enact this feeling. We move between time periods and time ‘owed,’ to literal outer space (from the balloon to the sky to the moon). And then we’re brought gently back to Earth, where death has been happening rather than coming. So often we think of the afterlife as “up there.” We look to the sky when we think of someone who’s no longer with us. But our bodies are “down there.” Down here, really. To remember—and be remembered—is to remain with the Earth. And as Andrea remembers their loved ones, we remember them, too. 

Letter from the Editor-in-Chief: Playing the Long Game

by Gillian Smith-Clark, ​for The 44 North, Editor in Chief

A chess set overexposed in pink, purple, and blue hues

What if the most radical act today is not to react, but to pause?

Chess is not just a game. It is an ancient philosophy of attention—a way I first learned to analyze the world from my father, who taught me to play as a young child. We’d sit together on the living room floor with a board and a beautifully carved chess set between us, as he guided me through the moves and the stories of each piece. Over the years, he used the game as a metaphor for life: patience, strategy, and the understanding that not every threat needs an immediate response. I stepped away from the game for many years but returned in 2016, when it proved to be an excellent anxiety reducer during the particular politics of that year. When the world feels like it’s moving too fast, I still turn to the board. It reminds me that wisdom often lies in the pause rather than the rush.

It asks for patience, wisdom, and the ability to think beyond the immediate move. The game rewards restraint, foresight, and the understanding that not every threat needs an immediate response; that the dramatic move is not always the wise one.

Lately, I have been reflecting on the discipline required to “play the long game” in both my own life and the world around us at this moment. We live in a time that rewards reaction: outrage is immediate, drama permeates the air in real time, and power is often performed through impulsiveness rather than judgment. But force without thoughtful strategy is not mastery; it is instability, chaos, and the erosion of our own judgment.

That feels especially true now. As war escalates between the United States, Israel, and Iran, and as political life in the U.S. continues to be shaped by bluster, performance, and short-term domination, it is hard not to notice the absence of genuine discipline on the global board. There is an added irony in watching Trump threaten to strike Iran “extremely hard” and send it “back to the Stone Ages” while appearing, once again, to misread the strategy of the very regime he claims to be overpowering. The lesson is clear: intelligence and power are not the same thing, and finesse—in politics as in life—is rarer than it should be.

At The 44 North, we are interested in something quieter yet more demanding: thoughtful attention, moral seriousness, and the long view. This issue reflects that commitment in different ways – from questions of gender and power to stories about surveillance, selfhood, and control. Again and again, the pieces in this issue ask what it means to remain clear-sighted in systems that would rather make us reactive, doubtful, or numb.

You’ll find that spirit in our review of Inter Alia, Suzie Miller’s play about the slow, cumulative violences that can unsettle even the most accomplished women in male-dominated spaces. You’ll find it in our latest Artist Spotlight featuring Capsule Community, and in this issue’s Writer’s Room selection, “On the OSAP Cuts: Could We Have Stratified the Cold?” You’ll find it, too, in the second- and third-place winners of our essay contest, which examine surveillance, optimization culture, and the erosion of inherent worth with urgency and intelligence.

This issue also includes Andrea Gibson’s powerful poem: “In the chemo room, I wear mittens made of ice so I don’t lose my fingernails. But I took a risk today to write this down.” Its title feels like its own kind of opening move: vulnerable, precise, and brave.

On the political side, we are pleased to feature work from Sylphia Basak and Cole Martin, whose pieces explore public anxieties around artificial intelligence and the geopolitical stakes of the Strait of Hormuz. More broadly, this issue also marks an exciting next step for The 44 North: the addition of a new team of political writers, including Basak and Martin, who will be contributing analysis and commentary between issues. At a time when public discourse is often flattened by speed, certainty, and outrage, we are proud to be making more space for political writing that is thoughtful, independent, and unafraid of complexity.

We are also happy to share that our newsletter has officially moved to Substack and is reborn as Points North: a place for field notes on culture, politics, and the world around us, alongside updates on our latest issue, podcast episodes, events, contests, and more. We hope you’ll join us there – not just to read, but to reflect, to question, and to play your own long game.

If chess teaches us anything worth carrying into daily life, it is this: patience is not weakness. Restraint is not retreat. To pause, to think carefully, to resist manipulation by headlines and noise—these are not acts of passivity, but of discipline. They are how we protect our judgment. And with it, our humanity.

Thank you, as always, for reading.

Warmly,

Gillian Smith-Clark

Editor in Chief, The 44 North Media