Late last year, what is thought to be a bat-associated coronavirus infected humans in Wuhan, a city of 11 million in China, possibly after a stopover in illegally traded pangolins—setting off a global pandemic. This kind of thing has happened before—with AIDS, SARS, and MERS, for example. Much remains unknown about the biology of COVID-19, which is alarmingly communicable by people with few or no symptoms. But an epidemic is only part biology. It is also driven by cultural factors, and urbanization is a crucial aspect. As sites of large gatherings and dense living conditions, cities offer the perfect settings for the spread of infection, yet their role seems to have often gone unremarked in discussions of the pandemic.

COVID-19 isn’t the only problem going viral. Economic insecurity is driving gold prices to record highs around $1,700 per ounce, causing levels of global mercury pollution to rise too. In the United States coal-fired power plants drive mercury pollution, but globally, the leading cause is small-scale ‘artisanal’ gold mining. Roughly 30 million men, women, and children in poor countries depend on mining for subsistence incomes. Unfortunately, the cheapest and easiest way to mine gold uses mercury, a highly toxic heavy metal the United Nations is striving to eliminate.

Refugees and migrants are the most vulnerable and will bear the brunt of the Covid-19 pandemic, said James Hollifield, a Wilson Center Global Fellow, in a recent episode of Wilson NOW. These populations are often already at higher risk due to insufficient water and food supplies, and those confined in large camps are at greater risk of spreading the disease. According to Hollifield, although we have not yet seen the full extent of the damage, “we can see with both refugees and migrants in particular, especially seasonal migrants, that there’s a great danger here of the virus spreading like wildfire in the camps and in the dormitories.”

Development specialists are sounding the alarm. The pandemic will not be stopped unless we provide safe water to the world’s most vulnerable people, according to UN experts. Soap and clean water are part of the arsenal of weapons we can deploy on the frontlines of the battle to halt the virus’ spread. Yet Covid-19 continues to pose an unprecedented threat to more than 2 billion of the world’s poorest people who lack the access to safe water, sanitation, and health services (WASH) needed to protect them during infectious disease outbreaks, according to the World Health Organization.

At an event organized by the Coalition of Atoll Nations on Climate Change in December 2019, Tabitha Awerika, 21, from Kiribati, urged world leaders to listen to the climate science and to the pleas of those living in the South Pacific. “I will not leave the lands of my ancestors,” she said. “I will not abandon my motherland. I refuse to leave the only place I call home.”

As the humanitarian community responds to the Covid-19 pandemic, other long-term pressing priorities persist and require innovative solutions. The dry zone which extends across Central America encompassing parts of Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and Nicaragua and a 10-year drought has left 1.4 million people in urgent need of food assistance. The impact of climate change, which includes extreme drought, poses an ever-increasing risk across Central America and contributes not only to food insecurity but also to migration issues that have plagued the continent in recent years.

The coronavirus pandemic has people throughout the world pondering how humankind should respond to a public health crisis. While individual countries are managing the crisis with varying degrees of success, we can all agree that the Covid-19 pandemic is commanding the international community’s attention. By contrast, it is much harder to get the world to care about the long-term public health crisis unfolding in the West African Sahel.