It took only weeks for COVID-19 to

become a global pandemic, turning our

whole reality upside down. Everything

we took for granted about everyday life.

Rituals both sacred and ordinary. How

we gather with our loved ones. How we

shop. How we mourn the dead.

COVID-19 has impacted every part of life.

We’ve learned more about the spread of

disease than we ever wanted to know.

The language of a pandemic has become

part of our everyday speech. Clusters.

Contact tracing. Community spread.

This crisis will pass. But it can also unlock

the tools we need to stop even bigger

disease:

What a Pandemic Can Teach Us About Violence… and How to Stop It

The pandemic of violence.

Most of us aren’t accustomed to thinking

about violence as a disease. We’re far

more likely to think of it as a behavior, a

choice, something innate and inevitable

to the human condition. Those who

commit acts of violence are to be locked

away. They are without home, beyond

redemption.

Except…

This way of thinking only reinforces the

cycle of violence. It’s like treating a virus

by killing the patient.

None of us are immune to the disease of

violence. But there is a cure—and it can

heal everything that’s tearing us apart.

After 10 years fighting epidemics in

Somalia and Uganda, Dr. Gary Slutkin

Violence Spreads LikeA Disease

returned to Chicago exhausted,

physically and emotionally. He had no

idea what to do next, until a friend told

him about a spate of gun violence that

was killing many of Chicago’s children.

He began poring over the data, and soon

recognized a familiar pattern: clusters.

Infectious diseases like COVID-19 have

them. Think Wuhan, China. Northern

Italy. New York. Miami.

Chicago had them, too. Wave after wave

of violence, concentrated in certain

places.

But why? Is it because some people are

inherently more prone to violence than

others? No. It’s because the biggest

predictor of violence is exposure to

violence. Or as one BBC article put it:

“One of the primary indicators that

someone will carry out an act of violence

is first being the victim of one.”

Now, this does not mean that everyone

who’s exposed to violence is destined

to commit violence. No more so than

being exposed to a virus means you will

automatically get sick. Your vulnerability

to infection varies, based on any number

of “modulating” factors. In the case of

violence, these include income, poverty,

education, and family situation, among

others.

The general rule, though, holds true:

exposure to violence increases the

likelihood of more violence—because, as

it turns out, violence alters your brain.

Syria has been in civil war for nearly a decade. Cities like Aleppo have been reduced to rubble. Photo by Erin Wilson/Preemptive Love

Violence Infects Like A Disease

Humans have long believed that violence

has a profound impact on the inner self—

your spirit, your soul, your heart. What’s

less widely understood is that violence

has a physiological impact, much like a

virus.

Viruses don’t destroy your body. They

disrupt the normal activities of organs,

tissues, and the immune system.

Much in the same way, violence affects

your brain—in some cases rewiring it

altogether.

Exposure to violence can impact your

limbic system and prefrontal cortex.

Survivors often display a heightened

response to threats, perceived or real.

Others are compelled to commit acts of

violence in order to win the acceptance of

their peers—whether it’s the local street

gang or the ISIS militants who just rolled

into town—in part because the brain

experiences alienation or social rejection

the same way it experiences physical

pain.

We don’t have to search far for a real-

world example of violence spreading like

a disease. We only have to look where our

work began: the country of Iraq.

Case Study:The Spread of ISIS

By 2010, the US-led coalition that

invaded Iraq seven years earlier seemed

on the brink of victory. The militants

whose insurgency caused so much

death and havoc were down to their last

few hundred fighters. The US and its

allies began pulling out, their mission

accomplished.

Or so it seemed.

The insurgency had been put in check.

But the underlying virus was still there.

It had been spreading quietly for years

in US-run prisons, where hundreds of

Saddam loyalists were held in brutal

conditions, some subjected to torture,

some radicalized in ways that only later

became clear.

Within a year of the US withdrawal,

the virus had reemerged. The militants

regrouped, and two years later, officially

changed their name to ISIS.

Qayyarah, Iraq. Photo by Jeremy Courtney/Preemptive Love

ISIS infiltrated cities like Fallujah, a

former Saddam stronghold that endured

punishing violence during the US

occupation. ISIS preyed on simmering

discontent—infecting thousands of

Fallujans who had lost their government

jobs after the invasion and were deeply

distrustful of the new, US-backed

government in Baghdad.

In 2013, government forces moved to

crush a protest near Fallujah. Much like

an overreactive immune system can make

an infection worse, the government’s

response backfired. ISIS went on the

offensive, claiming Fallujah as its first

stronghold and sparking a civil war that

nearly tore the country apart.

From there, the contagion spread north

to Iraq’s second largest city, Mosul, where

sleeper cells exploited local discontent

and the alienation many felt from the

central government. A relatively small

group of militants was able to drive out a

much larger and better equipped military

force.

The virus then spread back and forth

across Iraq’s border with Syria. Iraq was

again forced to fight for its survival.

The US was forced to return to a war

it thought it had won. Millions were

displaced. Untold thousands were killed

before it was over.

But it actually isn’t over. ISIS eventually

lost its territory; the virus was contained.

But it still lives. There are hundreds,

perhaps thousands of ISIS fighters still

active. And the damage done to those

they attacked—it’s still here, too.

Ultimately, you can’t defeat a virus with

a virus. You can’t end violence with more

violence.

There has to be another remedy.

Epidemiologists have three main

strategies for disrupting a disease: stop

the spread, reduce the risk, and change the

norms.

Treating ViolenceLike a Disease

1Stop the spread

First, you have to detect and disrupt new cases. Find the clusters, the epicenters of

outbreak, and intervene with the right care at the source.

In the case of COVID-19, this means contact tracing, building new hospitals, ramping up production of ventilators and masks. In some cases it has meant quarantining an entire city or country to disrupt transmission.

2Reduce the risk

Next, you identify those most vulnerable to the virus and do everything you can to limit their risk of infection.

While COVID-19 can infect anyone, we know the elderly and those with underlying medical conditions or compromised immune systems are especially susceptible. To stop the disease, we prioritize their safety. We practice social distancing, we disrupt our daily routines—in part, to protect the most vulnerable.

3Change the norms

he first two strategies can put an outbreak in check. But to fully eradicate a disease, you have to confront the underlying behaviors

and norms that allowed it to spread in the first place.

When COVID-19 emerged, we all learned to wash our hands for 20 seconds. Masks are increasingly part of everyday life. Societal norms can change, too. Many countries will revisit their investment in healthcare. There could be more medical checks in public venues. Maybe we will grapple at last with the ethnic and economic disparities that leave some more vulnerable to disease than others.

The point is, you don’t win by treating symptoms or even by repelling the virus. To eradicate the disease, we have to change.

So how do we end the pandemic of violence—and possibly war itself? The same way.

To End War, Treat it Like a Disease.

The work we do around the world—in

Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, Mexico, Venezuela,

the US—it’s about more than handing

out food or helping refugees climb out of

poverty. We exist to disrupt the cycle of

violence. We exist to end war.

Not just bullets and bombs, but every

kind of war. Sectarian war. Religious

war. Climate war. Wars on those who

look different, love differently, or pray

differently. Wars on those who’ve been

told they don’t belong. The wars we fight

around the world, in our neighborhoods,

and in our hearts.

It’s not pie in the sky. It’s not putting

flowers into gun barrels. By applying the

same time-tested, proven principles for

stopping any other disease, we can stop

the disease of violence.

Maybe not everywhere. Maybe not all at

once. Maybe it’s a lifelong pursuit rather

than a once-and-done endeavor. But it

can be done. Violence is not inevitable.

It’s a disease, and there is a cure.

This is our threefold playbook...

1Relief to stop the spread of war.

We don’t sit back and wait for those affected by violence to come to us.

We go to the epicenters of violence with food, shelter, and medicine—often while the bombs are still falling and the bullets still flying—because it’s the only way to stop the spread of war.

If families are left to fend for themselves, feeling forsaken by the rest of the world, then the story of the next war is already being written. Exposure to violence is the biggest predictor of violence. We help fast to mitigate the worst effects so we can disrupt its retaliatory cycle. In other words, we help mend the wounds of war before it’s too late.

A young boy carries a bag of food for his family. Mosul, Iraq, 2016.

During the battle for Mosul in 2017, we pressed into the city, while soldiers were still battling ISIS militants, providing food for thousands of families pinned down by the fighting. Our mobile medical clinics in Syria and Latin America reach families where they are, where the need is greatest.

We are fast in a crisis—often responding within days or hours—because that’s how you stop the spread of violence. Help fast, on the frontlines.

2Jobs reduce the risk of war

It’s not enough to triage the outbreak. You have to reduce the risk of new infection. And nothing reduces the risk of violence like a job.

An Oxford University study found that higher income dramatically decreases the length and likelihood of war. Why? Because it leads to flourishing, stable communities. And those communities have more to lose—and less to gain—by going to war.

Women who own their own businesses invest in their families’ future instead of bracing for the next disaster. Young men with jobs that offer dignity and income have less incentive to pick up a gun for a militia or a terror group.

We help refugees start their own businesses, using skills they already have and providing access to the capital they don’t have. We create digital jobs for young women and men, enabling them to work from anywhere with nothing more than a smartphone. Whether stuck at home by a virus or forced to flee war, they can keep working. Keep earning. Keep building a better future.

Even seemingly small interventions, even one new job, can reduce the risk of violence for the most vulnerable.

3Community to change the ideas that lead to war

Perhaps the greatest lesson of COVID-19 is that it can affect any of us. The same is true for violence.

War is not an “over there” problem. Like any disease creeping through our bloodstream, violence is present in our heads and our hearts, long before it ever reaches our hands. To eradicate the disease, we have to change. We have to re-rewire our brains so we can learn to live with—and for—each other. Too many of us don’t have a single friend of a different background. Too many of us think of those on the other end of the political spectrum as enemies, as an existential threat.

Too many of us see battles to be won instead of people to be loved.

Fear and prejudice lead to violence. But when we sit down with our enemy, real or imagined, another possibility emerges. We can start to heal what is tearing us apart. We can see that we belong to each other. We can stop the next war before it starts.

That’s why we’ve started neighborhood gatherings around the world, bringing people of every faith, background, ideology, and identity together—so we can finally start listening and learning from each other. So we can start healing what’s tearing us apart. So everyone can have a voice, a place to be known, valued, and loved.

That’s how we can eradicate the disease

of violence. That’s how we can stop the

next war before it starts.

Relief to stop the spread.

Jobs to reduce the risk.

Community to change the ideas that lead

to war.

It’s not a pipe dream. It’s a model that

works. We’ve been proving it for over a

decade. From Iraq to Mexico, and even

in the US, we’ve seen how changed ideas

lead to changed ways of living—new

relationships across what used to be

enemy lines—disrupting the viral spread

of violence.

But just like flattening the curve of a

pandemic, it only works if we do our part.

To stop the disease of violence, we need

you.

When you become a monthly donor—

giving relief on the frontlines, creating

jobs for the vulnerable, and changing

the ideas that lead to war—you make

another future possible.

Join us.