Anurag Mairal, director of technology solutions at PATH Health Technologies, says that it's time to start looking at low-cost innovations in healthcare differently. What should the road map be for an innovation? Should the product debut in a developing country first and then, evolve for the developed market or vice versa?
"We're at a point now, that companies cannot just keep adding bells and whistles to the same product to garner sales," Mairal told me.
So, given the increasing costs of healthcare in the U.S. and in Europe, companies are looking increasingly at simpler solutions that have the capacity to criss-cross border with a few tweaks.
PATH is a Seattle-based non-profit. But it's working with the commercial sector to scale, distribute, and market its innovations. That's Mairal's task. He's a new addition to the PATH team, after a noted career with Johnson & Johnson companies. He is symbolic of this merger between social impact and commercial viability.
His approach includes disruptive innovation (disrupt the global health system by changing the cost equation, moving away from a grants-based approach to a commercial-approach) and developing a market for said innovations. It's not enough to innovate. Must build a system to introduce these innovations to the market, advertise them, create distribution chains, and get them to the end-user.
PATH was started in the 1970s by three researchers: Gordon Duncan, Rich Mahoney, and Gordon Perkin. Their aim was quite the same: bring together public health and the private sector. Their focus, though, was slightly different: population control. So, their first innovations addressed population overload -- interventions to curb birth rates -- and were focused on Asia.
Since then, they've expanded their focus, looking at nutrition, water, sanitation, vaccinations, and reproductive health. Here are some of the innovations that PATH has piloted:
River blindness tests
It looks like a pregnancy test but it's designed to identify river blindness (or a tropical disease, "onchocerciasis"), which is a preventable condition that has affected 37 million people globally, many in poor, rural communities situated near a water source. With a grant from the Gates Foundation for $1.8 million, PATH created this device. Traditionally, a health worker would have have to draw a vial blood, take it to a clinic where it can be processed, and then report the results several days later. The later strip, however, requires just one drop of blood from a finger prick and results are available in 20 minutes. Ideal for rural health workers.
Rice is a popular grain, eaten by half the world's population. Fortified rice includes micronutrients such as iron, thiamin, zinc, vitamin A, and folic acid. PATH partnered with food purveyors in India, Brazil, and Colombia to produce the fortified grains to combat iron deficiencies, malnourishment, and anemia. Now, the grains are being coupled with school meal programs, such as in Burundi, to ensure that they reach school kids in low-income communities.
Mobile-phone milk pasteurization
Still in the works, FoneAstra is a system that uses mobile phones to monitor flash-heat pasteurization of donor breast milk. When a mother's milk is not safe to consume or is simply not available, human milk banks (HMB) fill the need; WHO supports the use of HMBs to address malnourished infants. However, the pasteurization process is tricky and healthcare facilities are hesitant to use this donor milk, unsure of its safety. By having a cell phone attached to the pasteurization device, FoneAstra enables these health clinics to monitor data on pasteurization, assuring them that the milk is safe to use. A pilot is under way in South Africa with the Human Milk Banking Association.
PATH created this design after consulting with women globally (in the US, South Africa, Thailand, and Dominican Republic) to ensure that they had single-size solution. It's more "discreet" than the condom, is easier to use than hormonal contraception, and enables women to protect themselves from unwanted pregnancy and some sexually-transmitted diseases. Now, PATH is commercializing this for sale with Germany-based health company, Kessel. But, it's also trying to figure out how the diaphragm could be integrated into family planning programs, given that it's a reusable product and would eliminate trips to a local health clinic. Those projects are under way in Uganda, India, and South Africa.
Vaccine vial monitors
Vaccine temperatures are critical - if too hot, they lose their potency. One of PATH's earliest innovations (1996) included the vaccine vial monitor- a square indicator on the label that lets health workers know if the vaccine is still safe to use. Modeled after a technology used in the food industry, it prevented WHO from dumping massive quantities of vaccines whose potency would be "unknown" after a day in the sun or in the hands of a health worker. UNICEF and WHO claim that this innovation saves the global health community $5 million every year.
The opposite problem of vaccines getting too hot -- they freeze in the carriers. Coupled with ice packs, the vaccines can be at the risk of freezing which diminish their potency as well. Solution? PATH discovered a new way to use nontoxic, biodegradable phase-change material with ice packs to prevent freezing.
Here's a product that debuted in the developed world but is being refined, and considered for the developing world as well. While you can find a female condom in drug stores, Mairal explains that they're not popular. Why? They're not always easy to use and can be uncomfortable. A more refined version, developed by PATH, has higher quality materials (i.e. 0.03 mm thin polyurathane film that allows for heat transfer), claims to be easier to use and feels more natural.
Rather than showcasing pre-made videos on maternal and neonatal health, PATH's Digital Public Health Platform -- basically, video and projector equipment- is enabling rural women in Rajasthan, India to create videos, showcase their films, and answer questions. The community-driven approach includes teams of health workers for local solutions and storytelling.
When my wife was struck by mysterious, debilitating symptoms, our trip to the ER revealed the sexism inherent in emergency treatment.
Early on a Wednesday morning, I heard an anguished cry—then silence.
I rushed into the bedroom and watched my wife, Rachel, stumble from the bathroom, doubled over, hugging herself in pain.
“Something’s wrong,” she gasped.
This scared me. Rachel’s not the type to sound the alarm over every pinch or twinge. She cut her finger badly once, when we lived in Iowa City, and joked all the way to Mercy Hospital as the rag wrapped around the wound reddened with her blood. Once, hobbled by a training injury in the days before a marathon, she limped across the finish line anyway.
So when I saw Rachel collapse on our bed, her hands grasping and ungrasping like an infant’s, I called the ambulance. I gave the dispatcher our address, then helped my wife to the bathroom to vomit.
Lip service to the crucial function of the Fourth Estate is not enough to sustain it.
It’s not that Mark Zuckerberg set out to dismantle the news business when he founded Facebook 13 years ago. Yet news organizations are perhaps the biggest casualty of the world Zuckerberg built.
There’s reason to believe things are going to get worse.
A sprawling new manifesto by Zuckerberg, published to Facebook on Thursday, should set off new alarm bells for journalists, and heighten news organizations’ sense of urgency about how they—and their industry—can survive in a Facebook-dominated world.
Facebook’s existing threat to journalism is well established. It is, at its core, about the flow of the advertising dollars that news organizations once counted on. In this way, Facebook’s role is a continuation of what began in 1995, when Craigslist was founded. Its founder, Craig Newmark, didn’t actively aim to decimate newspapers, but Craigslist still eviscerated a crucial revenue stream for print when people stopped buying newspaper classifieds ads.
Radical longevity may change the way we live—and not necessarily for the better.
“So, you don’t want to die?” I asked Zoltan Istvan, then the Transhumanist candidate for president, as we sat in the lobby of the University of Baltimore one day last fall.
“No,” he said, assuredly. “Never.”
Istvan, an atheist who physically resembles the pure-hearted hero of a Soviet children’s book, explained that his life is awesome. In the future, it will grow awesomer still, and he wants to be the one to decide when it ends. Defying aging was the point of his presidential campaign, the slogan of which could have been “Make Death Optional for Once.” To (literally) drive the point home, he circled the nation in the “Immortality Bus,” a brown bus spray-painted to look like a coffin.
He knew he’d lose, of course, but he wanted his candidacy to promote the cause of transhumanism—the idea that technology will allow humans to break free of their physical and mental limitations. His platform included, in part, declaring aging a disease. He implanted a chip in his hand so he could wave himself through his front door, and he wants to get his kids chipped, too. He’d be surprised, he told me, if soon “we don’t start merging our children with machines.” He’d like to replace his limbs with bionics so he can throw perfectly in water polo. Most of all, he wants to stick around for a couple centuries to see it all happen, perhaps joining a band or becoming a professional surfer, a long white beard trailing in his wake.
Humans have been living and working with horses for more than 5,000 years, since the first domesticated equines had their teeth worn down by primitive bridles in northern Kazakhstan. Hands could not have built modern civilization without the help of hooves—to haul ploughs, pull carriages, march soldiers into battle, and carry messages of love and war across hundreds of otherwise-insurmountable miles.
An unlikely pairing of wily predator and one-ton prey, humans and horses have managed to successfully communicate across the species barrier because we share a language: emotion. Experienced riders and trainers can learn to read the subtle moods of individual horses according to wisdom passed down from one horseman to the next, but also from years of trial-and-error. I suffered many bruised toes and nipped fingers before I could detect a curious swivel of the ears, irritated flick of the tail, or concerned crinkle above a long-lashed eye.
The preconditions are present in the U.S. today. Here’s the playbook Donald Trump could use to set the country down a path toward illiberalism.
It’s 2021, and President Donald Trump will shortly be sworn in for his second term. The 45th president has visibly aged over the past four years. He rests heavily on his daughter Ivanka’s arm during his infrequent public appearances.
Fortunately for him, he did not need to campaign hard for reelection. His has been a popular presidency: Big tax cuts, big spending, and big deficits have worked their familiar expansive magic. Wages have grown strongly in the Trump years, especially for men without a college degree, even if rising inflation is beginning to bite into the gains. The president’s supporters credit his restrictive immigration policies and his TrumpWorks infrastructure program.
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Even within a university as famously offbeat as the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Random Hall has a reputation for being a little quirky. According to campus legend, the students who first lived there in 1968 wanted to call the dorm “Random House” until the publishing house with that same name sent them a letter to object. The individual floors have names, too. One is called Destiny, a result of its cash-strapped inhabitants selling the naming rights on eBay; the winning bid was $36 from a man who wanted to name it after his daughter.
In 2005, another plan started to take shape in the corridors of Random Hall. James Harvey was nearing the completion of his mathematics degree and needed a project for his final semester. While searching for a topic, he became interested in lotteries.
On Saturday, the president slipped away from the doubters in Washington to address a Florida crowd filled with loyal supporters.
MELBOURNE, Fla.—After four miserable weeks of being locked up in presidential prison—starved of affection, suffocated by bureaucracy, tormented by the press—Donald Trump made a break for it Saturday.
Touching down just before sunset here in the heart of Trump Country, the president was greeted as he emerged from Air Force One by an adoring crowd of 9,000 super-fans, many of whom had stood in line for hours to see him speak. Trump made no effort at masking his gratitude. “I’m here because I want to be among my friends,” he told them, adding, “I also want to speak to you without the filter of the fake news.”’
The rally was widely trumpeted in the press as a return to the campaign trail, and it’s easy to see why. The event had all the trappings of Trump-style electioneering—he deployed the same slogans, recycled the same stump-speech rhetoric, and walked out on stage to the same soundtrack. What’s more, the White House made clear earlier this week that the rally was being funded not by the federal government but by his campaign, making this perhaps the earliest launch to a reelection bid in history.
The Scandinavian country is an education superpower because it values equality more than excellence.
The Scandinavian country is an education superpower because it values equality more than excellence.
Everyone agrees the United States needs to improve its education system
dramatically, but how? One of the hottest trends in education reform lately
is looking at the stunning success of the West's reigning education
Trouble is, when it comes to the lessons that Finnish schools have to offer,
most of the discussion seems to be missing the point.
The small Nordic country of Finland used to be known -- if it was known for
anything at all -- as the home of Nokia, the mobile phone giant. But lately
Finland has been attracting attention on global surveys of quality of
life -- Newsweek ranked it number one last year -- and Finland's national
education system has been receiving particular praise, because in recent
years Finnish students have been turning in some of the highest test scores
in the world.
During the late 19th century, blacks and whites in the South lived closer together than they do today.
CHARLOTTE, N.C.—Growing up here in the 1940s and 1950s, Sevone Rhynes experienced segregation every day. He couldn’t visit the public library near his house, but instead had to travel to the “colored” library in the historically black area of Brooklyn, a neighborhood that used to be in the center of Charlotte. He attended a school for black children, where he received second-hand books, and where the school day was half the length of that of white schools, because the black school had too many children and not enough funds. Sixty years later, he says, Charlotte is still a segregated city. “People who are white want as little to do with black people as they can get away with,” he told me.
This is, unfortunately, not a surprising account of North Carolina, or of the South more generally. The South of the 1950s was the land of fire hoses aimed at black people who dared protest Jim Crow laws. Today, schools in the South are almost as segregated as they were when Sevone Rhymes was a child. Southern cities including Charlotte are facing racial tensions over the shootings of black men by white policemen, which, in Charlotte’s case, led to massive protests and riots.
When people repeatedly move from place to place, they may be more willing to let go of relationships.
When the Jewish German psychologist Kurt Lewin fled Nazi rule and moved to the United States in 1933, he, like many immigrants, found his new home a little puzzling. Especially when it came to friendships.
“Compared with Germans, Americans seem to make quicker progress toward friendly relations early in the acquaintance process and with many more persons,” he wrote in his 1936 paper “Some Social-Psychological Differences Between the United States and Germany.” “Yet this development often stops at a certain point and the quickly acquired friends will, after years of relatively close relations, say good bye as easily as after a few weeks of acquaintance.”
Lewin thought that this idea of friends as fast fashion—easily acquired, emotionlessly discarded when worn out—might be spurred by the United States’s high level of residential mobility. American society was mobile in his day and has only gotten more mobile since. People can move from sea to shining sea, dropping things as they go.