In mid-May, as the world was still grappling with an unexpected hantavirus outbreak aboard a tourism vessel, news broke of an Ebola outbreak in the Ituri Province of the Democratic Republic of the Congo spanning at least 3 health zones, including Bunia, Rwampara, and Mongbwalu.
Despite knowing about the Ebola virus and the disease it causes since 1976, every outbreak is a deeply worrisome event, giving us pause and efforts to assure rapid containment. A deadly disease that tests public health and health care response, Ebola is highly virulent and spreads through contaminated blood and body fluids. News of an Ebola outbreak is bad on the best of days, but news of an outbreak with dozens of cases during a period in global health that has been marked with drastic cuts to funding, US disengagement and isolationism, and an exhausted postpandemic workforce—well, it’s the worst kind of news. Recently, many have asked what makes this outbreak unique and instigates such fear among public health and infectious disease experts. There are a few reasons, and it’s critical to understand why, as it’s not just about the seriousness of this disease.
First, let’s catch up on the nuances of this situation. The outbreak involves the Bundibugyo virus, which differs from most Ebola virus diseases we’ve seen in the past (there are 4 types of orthoebolaviruses; Orthoebolavirus zairense is the most common, whereas this outbreak involves Orthoebolavirus bundibugyoense). In fact, we’ve only seen 2 other outbreaks of Ebola caused by the Bundibugyo virus, which suggests that our learned experience and insights are less effective. We’re not flying entirely blind, but we’re in uncharted territory, and the map isn’t as detailed as we’d like. This also means we don’t have an effective vaccine, and developing one could take at least 6 to 9 months (which is optimistic).1 Historically, we’ve been lucky to have the Ervebo and Zabdeno/Mvabea vaccines against Orthoebolavirus zairense, which has been immensely helpful in ring vaccination and response to outbreaks. However, these vaccines were really a byproduct of prioritization following the 2014 outbreak, the largest in history and a reminder of how vulnerable the world is to emerging infectious diseases. The seriousness and rapidity of this outbreak were also reasons for the World Health Organization (WHO) to declare the outbreak a public health emergency of international concern (PHEIC).2 As of late June 2026, there have been over 1000 confirmed cases and 269 deaths.3 What we know is that in late April, a nurse sought care in Bunia and later died, and health authorities were notified on May 5; there were 50 similar deaths, but it wasn’t until May 14 that laboratory confirmation occurred. Additionally, cases were identified in Uganda, and an American physician caring for patients in the outbreak was transported to Germany for treatment. It’s important to note that the PHEIC declaration was very rapid. For example, during the COVID-19 pandemic, it wasn’t declared until January 30, 2020, despite the WHO receiving a report from Chinese health authorities of an outbreak on December 31, 2019. As experts have highlighted, “Although this procedural departure is grounded in the International Health Regulations [2005], its rarity underscores the gravity of this Ebola virus disease outbreak.4
The crisis is the predictable outcome of deeper structural challenges: chronic underinvestment in local health systems and a global failure to prioritize pathogens that predominantly affect lower-income countries.” With this outbreak rapidly escalating and our inexperience with the Bundibugyo virus, it’s critical to note that this is quite frankly a perfect storm, and one we’ve systemically positioned ourselves to sit in.
The outbreak started in a mining town in the eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), on the border of Uganda. Mines and the very nature of the close quarters—living and working—make Ebola transmission more likely. Mines present opportunities for spillover events involving exposure to infected bats, as well as for spread between people experiencing symptoms in close quarters. Such mining towns host tens of thousands of workers, with limited access to health care, in areas that make access to testing and contact tracing even more difficult. With thousands of workers coming in and out of the area, it’s easy for cases to be missed and travel home, which allows the disease to spread further. Additionally, the region in DRC has been experiencing significant conflict. As NPR reporter Emma Livingstone noted, “For health responders, tackling the disease is a huge undertaking. Much of eastern Congo is plagued by violent armed groups, and road infrastructure is extremely poor. Ituri, the epicenter of the outbreak, suffers regular massacres committed by notorious armed groups such as the Codeco or the Islamic State–aligned ADF [Allied Democratic Forces].”5 The concern is also that the outbreak will spread into the Republic of South Sudan, where tens of thousands of refugees are housed, but also an area experiencing hunger and conflict, all of which would allow for the virus to spread rapidly.6 Another factor that complicates this outbreak and the rapid response needed to contain it is the gutting of US public health and global aid resources.
One thing many of us have always been proud of is the speed at which the US typically mobilizes resources and support to combat global health threats. In the first few days of the outbreak, Secretary of State Marco Rubio criticized the WHO’s response, calling it “a little late,” which was an unusual, inaccurate, and unhelpful choice of words given the rapid pace at which the WHO has initiated its response.7 When a PHEIC is declared, it triggers an all-hands-on-deck response, with countries rallying support, mobilizing emergency response teams, and working together to rapidly contain an outbreak. This PHEIC, though, came at a time when geopolitical tensions were high and the global health architecture and landscape had changed drastically. As biologist Katherine Wu, PhD, and Hana Kiros, writers at The Atlantic, noted, “Under the second Trump administration, which has disparaged public health, cut foreign aid, and demeaned vaccines and other crucial components of the infectious disease tool kit, US support for global health has been severely weakened, sapping surveillance networks, laboratories, and health care response teams of resources and personnel.
In 2024, some $1.4 billion of the DRC’s foreign aid—more than 70%—came from the US; that number has since plummeted, a loss that has kneecapped local health delivery. [In a January 2025 executive order, the White House justified the US withdrawal from the WHO by criticizing its “mishandling of the COVID-19 pandemic’ and failure to reform.]”8 The State Department announced it is mobilizing $23 million to support Uganda’s response, prompting many to wonder whether these were new funds or previously allocated to bilateral agreements between the 2 countries, and why the funding was focused on a country that has identified only a handful of cases.9 And now, the US has initiated travel restrictions for those arriving from affected countries and is banning green card holders returning from those designated countries.10,11 What we do know is that travel restrictions don’t work well in these situations. Providing people with resources for monitoring and public health communication upon return is far more effective. Placing such extreme restrictions on returning travelers will also impact the willingness of volunteers to offer their expertise in outbreak response.
With the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the WHO affected by recent cuts, and the US Agency for International Development (USAID) gutted, all resources and personnel are needed to contain this outbreak. Even better, help provide resources for frontline response in the affected countries through testing, contact tracing, health care, and communication campaigns. Thankfully, the CDC and WHO are mobilizing resources, and efforts are underway to provide partner organizations and field response teams with personnel and supplies, such as personal protective equipment. Each day brings news of more cases and an increasingly complex situation, but the truth is that infectious diseases occur regardless of our prioritization. Not every case becomes a cluster, not every cluster becomes an outbreak, and not every outbreak becomes a pandemic, but sometimes we create ripe environments for these things to spiral. Although I’m not worried about Ebola becoming a pandemic, I am deeply concerned that many lives will be impacted and lost because global health security was viewed as something worth throwing away rather than keeping.
27 days ago
Contagion Summer 2026 Digital Edition
