We are upending the table.
In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a rare and lethal strain of Ebola spreads through communities that once relied on American expertise and resources to detect and contain exactly such threats. Since April, 482 suspected cases and 116 deaths have been recorded, with the virus already crossing into Uganda and pressing toward South Sudan — yet the United States, having dismantled USAID, shuttered key research facilities, and gutted CDC capacity, is largely absent from the response. What unfolds is not merely a public health emergency but a parable about the cost of abandoning the unglamorous, invisible work that keeps catastrophe at bay.
- A rare Bundibugyo Ebola strain — with no vaccine and no cure — has killed roughly 116 people in the DRC since April and has already crossed into Uganda, threatening a regional crisis.
- The dismantling of USAID, the closure of a premier NIH Ebola laboratory, and the collapse of disease surveillance networks have left a gaping void precisely when coordinated response is most urgent.
- US foreign aid to the DRC fell from $1.4 billion to $21 million this year, Uganda now owes money rather than receives it, and the CDC's on-the-ground response amounts to one additional person sent to the region.
- African scientists and health leaders are performing remarkable work sequencing the virus and managing the response, but competence cannot substitute for the resources and coordination that have been stripped away.
- Travel bans on noncitizens from affected countries have been announced — what experts call public health theater — while the Africa CDC urges aggressive support at the source as the only path that actually works.
In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a virus with no vaccine and no cure has been spreading since April. Health workers have documented 482 suspected cases of the Bundibugyo variant — a rare Ebola strain that has emerged only twice before in recent decades — and roughly 116 people have died. The virus has already crossed into Uganda and threatens to reach South Sudan. The United States, once the anchor of global outbreak response, is largely absent.
That absence was constructed deliberately. USAID was dismantled, thousands of health agency staff were laid off, and the NIH's world-class Ebola laboratory in Frederick, Maryland — built precisely for moments like this — was shuttered without notice. Its staff were let go; its website remains dark. American foreign assistance to the DRC collapsed from $1.4 billion in 2024 to just $21 million this year. Uganda's aid turned negative, meaning the country now owes money rather than receives it.
What disappeared with those funding lines was an entire ecosystem of vigilance. Hundreds of health workers had been conducting disease surveillance across the DRC and Uganda — the quiet, essential work of catching outbreaks before they become catastrophes. When USAID's stop-work orders arrived, that network collapsed. Experts say the current outbreak should have been detected weeks earlier; instead it spread undetected for months. Some former USAID employees sued the US government, saying they were abandoned in the DRC with no jobs and no means of departure.
Researchers describe the withdrawal in unsparing terms. Kristian Andersen of Scripps Research said the US has not merely left the table — it has upturned it. The CDC now has no director, the FDA no commissioner, the surgeon general position sits vacant. The US also announced it would exit the World Health Organization entirely, eliminating $130 million in funding and costing the organization nearly 2,400 jobs.
The DRC's health leaders are among the most experienced Ebola responders in the world, and African scientists have already performed impressive genomic work to understand the outbreak's origins. But experience cannot replace resources. The US response so far has been to announce travel bans on noncitizens from affected countries — what Georgetown's Matthew Kavanagh called public health theater — while the Africa CDC urges nations to invest in stopping the outbreak at its source instead. Experts are unambiguous: Ebola can be stopped. The question is whether the world will choose to stop it.
In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a virus with no vaccine and no cure is spreading through communities that have been abandoned by the world's largest health power. Since April, health workers have documented 482 suspected cases of Ebola—specifically the Bundibugyo variant, a rare strain that has emerged only twice before in recent decades. About 116 people have died. The virus has already crossed into Uganda, with at least one confirmed death there, and threatens to spill into South Sudan. Yet the United States, which once anchored the global response to such threats, is largely absent from the effort to contain it.
The absence is not accidental. Over the past year, the US Agency for International Development—USAID, the primary vehicle for American global health work—was dismantled. Thousands of staff at US health agencies were laid off. Communications between institutions stalled. Research programs were canceled. The world-class Ebola laboratory at the National Institutes of Health in Frederick, Maryland, a facility designed precisely for moments like this, was shuttered. Its staff were let go without notice. The website remains closed, a digital monument to work that has stopped.
The numbers tell the story of withdrawal. American foreign assistance to the DRC plummeted from $1.4 billion in 2024 to just $21 million so far this year. Uganda saw its aid drop from $674 million to a negative $1.2 million in 2026—meaning the country now owes money rather than receives it. When USAID dissolved, the DRC country office went from a functioning operation to roughly 25 to 30 staff members. The CDC is sending one additional person. The rest of the American response, officials say, will happen remotely.
What was lost in those cuts extends far beyond laboratories and funding lines. Hundreds of health workers across the DRC and Uganda were conducting disease surveillance—the unglamorous, essential work of watching for new outbreaks before they become catastrophes. Thousands more were running programs for HIV, tuberculosis, malaria, and maternal health, the foundational work that keeps health systems functional. When the stop-work orders came from USAID, that entire network collapsed. Some former employees sued the US government, saying they were abandoned in the DRC with no jobs and no way to leave. The outbreak, experts now say, should have been detected weeks earlier. Instead, it spread undetected for months before anyone recognized what was happening.
Kristian Andersen, a professor of immunology and microbiology at Scripps Research, described the American withdrawal in stark terms: "It's not just that we're leaving the table, we are completely cutting ourselves out of the conversation. We are upending the table." Matthew Kavanagh, director of the Center for Global Health Policy and Politics at Georgetown University, called it a self-inflicted wound. The US also announced it would leave the World Health Organization entirely and end $130 million in funding, resulting in 2,371 lost jobs at the organization. The CDC, which Andersen noted was once the premier agency for country-level leadership in disease response, now has no director. The FDA has no commissioner. The surgeon general position is vacant.
The irony, according to those who study disease prevention, is that global health investment is extraordinarily cheap insurance. Preventing and containing outbreaks costs far less than responding to them once they have spread. The Frederick lab, for instance, was positioned to test potential treatments—monoclonal antibodies and vaccines that research suggested might work against this strain. It could have performed the detailed genetic sequencing that might reveal where the virus originated and how it jumped to humans. Instead, that work will not happen.
The DRC's health system, already fragile, is now confronting an outbreak with hundreds of millions of dollars in support cut away. The country's health leaders are among the most experienced Ebola responders in the world, and African scientists have already performed remarkable work sequencing the virus to understand the spillover event. But experience and competence cannot substitute for resources and coordination. The US response to the outbreak so far has been to announce travel bans on noncitizens from the region—what Kavanagh called "public health theater" that punishes countries without actually stopping cases. The Africa CDC has urged nations to avoid such bans, arguing instead that aggressive support for outbreak control at the source is the only path forward.
Experts are clear about what is at stake. This outbreak has crossed borders and is now spreading in a region with limited capacity to respond. Without mobilization of resources and public health effort, deaths will mount. The question, Kavanagh said, is not whether Ebola can be stopped—it can be. The question is whether the world will choose to stop it.
Citações Notáveis
It's not just that we're leaving the table, we are completely cutting ourselves out of the conversation. We are upending the table.— Kristian Andersen, professor of immunology and microbiology at Scripps Research
This outbreak should have been detected weeks ago... the United States has stopped playing the role.— Matthew Kavanagh, director of the Center for Global Health Policy and Politics at Georgetown University
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does it matter that the US lab in Maryland was closed? Couldn't other countries handle the research?
That lab was designed to do exactly what this moment requires—test potential treatments, sequence the virus, understand how it jumped to humans. When you close it, you don't just lose a building. You lose the institutional knowledge, the equipment, the people who know how to move fast. Other countries are doing good work, but they're starting from behind.
The article mentions the DRC's health system was already vulnerable. How much of this crisis is about the cuts versus the system's existing weakness?
Both matter, but the cuts made the weakness catastrophic. The DRC had hundreds of health workers doing surveillance—watching for exactly this kind of spillover. Those workers detected outbreaks early. When USAID dissolved, that network vanished overnight. A weak system with surveillance can still catch things. A weak system without surveillance catches nothing until it's too late.
Travel bans seem like a reasonable precaution. Why are experts calling them theater?
Because they don't stop the virus. They stop people from the region from traveling, which punishes the countries trying to respond and creates resentment that makes cooperation harder. Meanwhile, the virus spreads within the region unchecked. It's a gesture that makes people feel like something is being done, when what actually needs to happen is resources flowing to the outbreak zone.
Is there any chance the US could still mobilize a response?
Technically, yes. The CDC could coordinate, the NIH could reopen that lab, funding could be restored. But that would require a political decision to reverse course. Right now, the direction is the opposite. And every week that passes, the outbreak spreads further and becomes harder to contain.
What happens if this outbreak becomes a regional crisis?
More deaths, obviously. But also economic disruption, displacement, potential instability. And it sets a precedent—the world learns that the US won't show up for these moments anymore. That changes how other countries prepare, how they cooperate, what they invest in. This isn't just about this outbreak. It's about what comes next.