Nipah isn't the real threat, our lack of preparedness is

Nearly 200 people were quarantined. Thailand, Nepal, and Taiwan began screening and quarantine measures at airports. Images of healthcare workers in full protective gear quickly revived uncomfortable memories of the Covid-19 years.

"Is this virus more dangerous than Covid?"

"Should we cancel our travel plans?"

"Could this become another pandemic?"

I understand the anxiety. Nipah has a reported fatality rate of 40-75%. There is no approved vaccine and no specific treatment. The World Health Organization (WHO) classifies it as a priority pathogen because of its pandemic potential. Those facts alone are enough to unsettle anyone.

But after carefully reviewing WHO reports and tracking official updates, I've come to a different conclusion - shaped by someone who watched the tourism industry collapse during Covid-19 and then slowly rebuild itself.

First, Nipah is not a new virus. It was first identified in Malaysia in 1999, where it spread from pigs to humans. According to data published in the U.S. National Library of Medicine, from 1999 to May 2024, total global infections numbered just 754 - insignificant when compared with the hundreds of millions of Covid-19 cases worldwide. Transmission mainly occurs through direct contact with fruit bats, infected animals, or bodily fluids and respiratory droplets. Crucially, Nipah is not airborne like Covid-19.

The WHO currently assesses the risk of international spread as low. India has dealt with Nipah before. Kerala alone has successfully contained nine outbreaks since 2018, each within weeks, thanks to rapid contact tracing, strict quarantine, and coordinated health responses. The outbreak in West Bengal is being managed under similar protocols.

This context has eased my anxiety. But it has not made me complacent. If Covid-19 taught me anything, it’s that preparation must come before a crisis, not after.

When Covid-19 hit in 2020, Vietnam’s tourism industry nearly came to a standstill. My business spans tours, restaurants, and cruise operations. Revenue evaporated. Boats sat idle for months. Restaurants were empty. Staff reductions became unavoidable.

In hindsight, what devastated the industry was not just the virus itself. It was the shock factor, the lack of preparedness for a total shutdown. Supply chains depended on single sources. Cash flow was thin, built on month-to-month survival. Skilled workers left en masse amid uncertainty. And panic, amplified by misinformation, spread faster than the disease.

My company survived, not because we were exceptional, but because early on, in February 2020, when many still believed "it’ll be fine", we asked a hard question: If the worst happens, how long can we last? That led to immediate action: cost reviews, contract renegotiations, alternative revenue planning, and above all, retaining our core staff, even at reduced pay and hours.

By 2025, Vietnam welcomed more than 21 million international visitors, surpassing the 2019 record of 18 million, the fastest tourism recovery in Southeast Asia. But behind that number is a harsher truth: many businesses never came back. They did not lose to the virus; they lost because they were not ready for what seemed impossible.

That is the real lesson of Covid-19. The greatest enemy is not the virus; it's the mindset of "that won't happen to me."

Medical screening at an airport in Thailand. Photo courtesy of Thailand Government

Nipah today may remain a small, contained outbreak. But Vietnam's Ministry of Health has identified the country as a hotspot for emerging infectious diseases, with 72% originating from wildlife. Climate change is pushing animals closer to human settlements. Global travel connects continents in hours. The question is no longer if another pandemic will happen, but when, and whether we’ll be ready.

So how did I respond to the Nipah news? I followed updates from official sources such as the WHO and the Ministry of Health, not social media speculation. I briefed my staff so they could answer customer concerns accurately. I reviewed and updated our disease-response procedures developed during Covid-19.

Longer term, I maintain operational reserves, diversify markets to avoid overreliance on a single source, and continue digitizing processes to stay flexible. These measures cost money and effort, but I see them as investments in peace of mind, not burdens.

After two decades in the industry, I've noticed two common reactions to outbreak news. One is panic: cancel everything, spread unverified claims, lose sleep. The other is complacency: "It's nothing," "Don't overreact," "It'll pass." Both are harmful. Panic leads to bad decisions. Complacency wastes valuable preparation time.

There is a middle path: staying calm while preparing proactively. Calmness means relying on credible information and separating real risks from exaggerated fears. Preparation means having contingency plans and the ability to adapt quickly, without assuming the worst or dismissing the possibility.

On Nipah specifically, the WHO has not recommended travel or trade restrictions. Past outbreaks have been geographically limited. A vaccine candidate is already in Phase 2 trials in Bangladesh. This is not a moment for panic, but it is also not a moment to forget what Covid-19 taught us.

Nipah may never become a pandemic. I sincerely hope it does not. But another pathogen will emerge someday. Viruses don't care whether we believe in them. What does matter is whether we believe in preparedness.

Often, the line between those who survive a crisis and those who don't is drawn long before the crisis begins; at the moment they decide to prepare early, or not at all.