What happens if an engineered virus escapes the lab?
 In the spring of 1979, a lab worker
 in Sverdlovsk, USSR
  removed a clogged air filter
 in the ventilation system
  and didn’t replace it.
  His note to the supervisor was never 
 transferred to the official logbook,
  so when the next shift rolled in,
  workers simply started
 production as usual.
  Now, in most labs, this would
 have been a minor mistake.
  But this lab was 
 a biological weapons facility
  producing huge quantities of anthrax—
  which, if inhaled, can kill 
 up to 90% of those it infects.
  This deadly anthrax powder floated
 out into the sky for hours,
  causing the largest documented outbreak
 of inhalation anthrax on record
  and resulting in at least 64 deaths.
  What happened at Sverdlovsk was a tragedy,
  and the Soviet bioweapons program 
 was a violation of international law.
  But these days, it’s not just 
 state-sponsored bioweapons programs
  that keep biosecurity experts up at night.
  Nor is anthrax their largest concern.
  They’re worried about an even more
 dangerous kind of lab leak.
  Since the 1970s, researchers have been
 manipulating the DNA of microbes
  to give them abilities
 they didn’t have before.
  This is called “gain of function” work
  and it includes a huge body
 of scientific research.
  The majority of this work helps humanity
 with very little risk,
  for example, engineered viruses 
 are used in vaccine production,
  gene therapy, and cancer treatments.
  But within the gain of function realm 
 lies an intensely debated sub-field
  where scientists engineer superbugs.
  Officially known as 
 “enhanced potential pandemic pathogens,”
  these ePPPs are typically variants 
 of well-known viruses,
  such as Ebola or avian influenza that have
 been engineered to be, say,
  more transmissible or more deadly.
  The stakes of this kind of work
 are much higher:
  if even one unusually dangerous
 virus escaped a lab,
  it could cause a global pandemic.
  Virologists developing ePPPs argue 
 this research could help us prepare
  for future pandemics,
  allowing us to jump start treatments
 and potentially save lives.
  For example, in the early 2010s,
  several research teams created 
 a deadly strain of bird flu
  with the novel ability to spread 
 through the air between mammals.
  Advocates of the project argued
 that by creating this ePPP,
  we could learn crucial information
  about a worst-case-scenario virus 
 under controlled conditions.
  But many critics argued 
 that it’s unclear whether bird flu
  would ever evolve in the wild
 as it did in the lab.
  Consequently, they believed the knowledge
 gained by studying this dangerous virus
  wasn’t remotely worth the risk 
 of creating it in the first place.
  Both sides of this ongoing debate
 are trying to save lives;
  they just disagree 
 on the best way to do it.
  However, everyone agrees that an ePPP
 lab leak could be catastrophic.
  Labs that work with dangerous pathogens
 are designed with numerous safety features
  to protect the scientists who work there,
 as well as the outside world,
  such as ventilation systems
 that decontaminate air
  and airtight “spacesuits”
 with dedicated oxygen.
  Sometimes buildings are even nested 
 inside each other
  to prevent natural disasters
 from breaching the closed environment.
  But this technology is expensive
 to build and maintain.
  And even when our tech doesn't fail,
  there’s still room for the most common
 kind of mistake:
  human error.
  Many human errors are inconsequential:
  a researcher spills a sample,
  but quickly disinfects 
 the otherwise well-controlled environment.
  Other incidents, however,
 are much more concerning.
  In 2009, a researcher accidentally
 stuck themselves
  with an Ebola-contaminated needle,
  endangering their life 
 and the lives of those treating them.
  In 2014, six vials containing the virus
 that causes smallpox were found
  in an unsecured storage room 
 where they’d been forgotten for decades.
  That same year, a CDC scientist
 unknowingly contaminated
  a sample of relatively harmless bird flu
 with a deadly lab-grown variant,
  and then shipped the contaminated
 sample to the USDA.
  While these incidents did not
 lead to larger crises,
  the potentially catastrophic consequences
 of an ePPP leak
  have convinced many scientists 
 that we should stop
  this kind of research altogether.
  But if that doesn’t happen,
 what can we do to minimize risk?
  Well, first, we can work to reduce 
 human error by examining past mistakes.
  Some experts have suggested creating
 an international database of leaks,
  near-misses, and fixes taken 
 that would help labs adapt their protocols
  to minimize human errors.
  And a robust, well-funded pandemic 
 early warning system
  would help protect us 
 from any disease outbreak—
  whether it comes
 from a lab leak or a natural spillover.
  Developing the kind of global standards
 and databases necessary
  for these changes would be difficult—
  requiring unprecedented international
 collaboration and transparency.
  But we need to overcome these hurdles
  because pandemics don't care
 about borders or politics.