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Gaza, a territory beset by war, has just reported its first case of polio in 25 years, and now there is a scramble to try and vaccinate 640,000 children.Hussam Al-Masri/Reuters

Polio. Whooping cough. Mpox. Avian influenza. COVID-19. West Nile. Oropouche fever. Chickenpox. Dengue. Eastern equine encephalitis. Anaplasmosis. Lyme disease. Measles. Tuberculosis. RSV. Babesiosis. Malaria. HIV. Cholera. Invasive group A strep (iGAS). Ebola. Influenza.

Every one of these infectious illnesses has been in the news in recent days. Everywhere you turn, it seems, there are outbreaks, epidemics and warnings about the next pandemic.

A recent article in the BMJ said there is a “post-COVID global surge in communicable diseases” the likes of which is unprecedented. According to an analysis by the disease forecasting firm Airfinity and the news organization Bloomberg, over 40 countries have experienced a tenfold increase in the incidence of at least one of 13 infectious diseases since 2022, compared with pre-pandemic numbers.

Pathogens, particularly viruses, are thriving in the shadow of the pandemic, and there are a number of reasons why.

First and foremost, vaccination rates have fallen. Because of COVID-related disruptions that left public-health agencies overwhelmed, about 25 million children missed at least one of the three doses of the most basic childhood vaccine, DPT3 (diphtheria, pertussis, tetanus) in 2021, according to the World Health Organization. And the world still hasn’t caught up, because 14.5 million children had zero doses of DPT3 last year. Another 22.2 million children didn’t get a first dose of the measles vaccine.

Childhood vaccine rates are not just falling in the developing world, but also in Western countries, where the issue is not availability but vaccine hesitancy. The result is huge jumps in infection. For example, Europe saw a 30-fold increase in measles cases last year.

Climate change is also driving the spread of infectious diseases, with tropical diseases like dengue and Oropouche fever moving to typically more temperate climates.

Agricultural practices such as deforestation and mass production are moving humans into closer contact with wild and domestic animals, making it easier for pathogens to jump species. The worrisome outbreak of avian influenza virus H5N1 from birds to cattle to humans is a striking example.

Then there are the age-old drivers of illness like poverty and inequality.

Tuberculosis, a millennia-old scourge, still kills 1.3 million people a year (more than HIV and malaria combined) despite the fact that we have well-established prevention methods and treatments. But TB persists where there is poor housing and overcrowding, including in Canada’s Far North.

Infectious diseases also thrive in chaos.

Gaza, a territory beset by war, has just reported its first case of polio in 25 years, and now there is a scramble to try and vaccinate 640,000 children. Polio is an infection we have been on the verge of eradicating for years, but we just can’t seem to close the deal.

The epicentre of the current mpox outbreak is the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a country where armed conflict is ever-present, and where the health system has all but collapsed. It remains to be seen how far and wide it will spread.

Most disturbing of all though is our response to this barrage of potential threats. We have the technology, the medicine and the money to tackle infectious disease, but a distinct lack of political will.

After the world was hammered by the coronavirus, you would think we would be more acutely aware of the potential effect of diseases spreading unchecked. But there is a wave of denial, fuelled by misinformation and disinformation, that could prove as deadly as any pathogen.

As we have seen with COVID-19, the response to disease threats is now deeply political and partisan. Vaccination and mask-wearing (or a lack thereof) aren’t just mitigation measures any more, they’re political statements. Outright denialism of the “It’s just a cold” variety isn’t uncommon.

This challenge was illustrated well in the movie Don’t Look Up, a “disaster satire” about a planet-killing comet hurtling toward Earth and the world’s inability to act collectively to stop it. In the film, two astronomers discover an imminent threat to humanity but, when they try to warn politicians and the public, they find people are less than eager to hear the message. A culture war ensues, with two camps – one urging people to “Look up,” the other responding with “Don’t look up” – battling it out and nothing happening to divert the comet.

A world where partisan memes trump science – and the result is catastrophe.

The movie was meant as a parable for the threat of climate change, but the lessons apply equally to a world where never-ending illness could become the norm because mitigation is an inconvenience.

Death, not by a thousand cuts, but a thousand bugs.

Editor’s note: A previous version of this article incorrectly stated that the DPT3 vaccine protects against diphtheria, polio and tetanus. It protects against diphtheria, pertussis and tetanus. This version has been updated.

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