The Next Pandemic: Why We’re Still Flying Blind Despite the Lessons of COVID
Every few months, a new virus emerges somewhere in the world, and scientists scramble to assess its threat. It’s a routine that’s been playing out since the 1960s, yet we’re still shockingly unprepared for the next big outbreak. Personally, I think this is one of the most glaring paradoxes of modern science: we’ve mapped the human genome, sent rovers to Mars, but we’re still at the mercy of microscopic organisms we barely understand.
Take the discovery of HIV-1 in 1983 or Sars-CoV-2 in 2020. Both viruses went from obscurity to global catastrophe, claiming tens of millions of lives. What makes this particularly fascinating is how predictable these pandemics were—in hindsight. Scientists had been warning about the potential of a SARS-like coronavirus for years, yet when COVID hit, we were caught flat-footed. Why? Because identifying a dangerous virus is only half the battle. The real challenge is understanding its potential to spread, mutate, and devastate.
From my perspective, the key to predicting the next pandemic lies in RNA viruses. These are the real wildcards of the microbial world. While DNA viruses are relatively stable, RNA viruses evolve at breakneck speed. Think of them as the rebellious teenagers of the virus family—unpredictable, adaptable, and often dangerous. Yet, out of thousands of RNA virus species, only 239 infect humans. The question is: which ones will jump from animals to humans and then spread like wildfire?
One thing that immediately stands out is the role of zoonotic viruses—those that jump from animals to humans. Viruses like rabies are zoonotic but rarely spread between people. Reassuring, right? Not so fast. What many people don’t realize is that viruses can evolve to change their transmission routes. Bird flu, for instance, has scientists on edge because it’s a zoonotic virus with the potential to adapt to human-to-human transmission. If you take a step back and think about it, this is the nightmare scenario: a virus that’s both deadly and highly contagious.
But here’s the twist: history shows that pandemics are more likely to come from viruses that already spread between humans. Measles, mumps, and even the common cold all started as animal viruses that crossed over and adapted. What this really suggests is that we should be less worried about the next rabies and more focused on viruses that are already knocking on our door.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the concept of the R number—how many people one infected person can infect. Viruses like Ebola have a low R number, which is why outbreaks tend to burn out in remote areas. But when they reach densely populated cities, as happened in West Africa in 2014, the R number can skyrocket. This raises a deeper question: how do we identify these viruses before they reach urban centers?
Our team at the University of Edinburgh has compiled a catalogue of the riskiest RNA viruses, but it’s not enough. We need faster detection, better surveillance, and global cooperation. What’s frustrating is that we’ve seen this movie before. COVID, Ebola, Zika—all had weeks or even months to spread undetected. If we’re serious about preventing the next pandemic, we need to act like it.
In my opinion, the next pandemic virus—what some call ‘Disease X’—will likely be an RNA virus with a high R number, closely related to a virus that already spreads between humans. It might emerge from bats, pigs, or even mosquitoes. But here’s the kicker: we probably won’t know it’s a threat until it’s too late. Unless, of course, we change our approach.
What this boils down to is a failure of imagination. We’re still reacting to outbreaks instead of anticipating them. We’re still underfunding research and surveillance. And we’re still treating pandemics as isolated events rather than inevitable consequences of our interconnected world. If there’s one lesson I hope we take away from COVID, it’s this: the next pandemic isn’t a matter of if, but when. And when it comes, we’d better be ready.
