The relationship between conflict and spread of drug-resistant bacteria—the so-called “superbugs”—has been one of increasing concern since the American invasion of Iraq.
At that time, the supervillain of interest was a peculiar organism named Acinetobacter. PBS documentaries narrated by Neil deGrasse Tyson described the bacteria as “a new enemy invader emerging from Iraq …packing weapons, dozens of them, and…[able to] survive weeks at a time without food or water.” In so doing, the superbug entered the American consciousness. It was coming back to the U.S. by hitching a ride on returning soldiers, Tyson said, and it was spreading—fast. Consequently, the supervillain received a new alias: “Iraqibacter.”
Ever since that time, epidemiologists have recognized the potential for military conflict to exacerbate the transmission of antimicrobial resistance bacteria (AMRs) like Iraqibacter. That means citizens in places already the least able to respond to health crises—Ukraine, certainly, but also Gaza, Syria and Yemen—are facing still more brooding threats due to AMR bugs. Recent CDC reports show that the AMR problem is worse than it has ever been in the U.S.; U.N. reports are raising similar alarms across the globe. As the war in Ukraine pushes on, AMR is increasingly threatening its soldiers, its civilians—and, the rest of Europe.
This global Rolling Stone investigation tells the Iraqibacter story—a story of war and biology, of missed opportunities and unintended consequences, of a post-antibiotic future. Beyond Iraqibacter, it illustrates from the frontlines how contemporary never-wars and conflicts far away may be cultivating a very intimate, very existential threat in our own backyards, too.