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The emergence of the Omicron variant has devastated the world, and we are responsible for it – partly, at least. From Delta to Omicron, the reason we are constantly discovering new coronavirus mutations is due to societal failures in sharing vaccines with the global south; and it’s not hard to see why.
The problem. Is, we have become too comfortable with the inequality in the world. We do not appear to have a solution, nor care, for the millions of vaccines discarded in the developed world when only 7.6% of people in low-income countries have received a single dose. The same way that we do not care that 36% of Africa’s population live in extreme poverty, or that the richest 1% own more than 43.4% of global wealth. We have heard it all before, and we have decided that we simply don’t care. Inequality has become so prevalent that we’ve come to accept, nay, expect it. After all, that’s just how the world works.
It is important to point out that, depending on which philosophical school of thought you subscribe to, the existence of inequality itself may not necessarily entail an injustice (it may, for example, depend on how those inequalities have come to be realised). I will, however, argue that regardless of your political and ethical beliefs, vaccine-hogging and the unequal distribution of vaccines globally will always yield a suboptimal outcome for everyone. And Omicron proves this.
A Rawlsian would argue that members of a society should select principles of societal structure as if they had no knowledge of what position they would end up in that society – behind the “veil of ignorance”. This would be an intuitive justification for vaccine equity, as it motivates us to consider the circumstances of the most deprived. These people did not ask to be born into poverty and should therefore not be expected to suffer the full consequences of it. In a sense, they have a positive right to such needs, whether it be food, shelter, basic healthcare, or vaccines.
On the other hand, we have those who argue that we do not owe a responsibility to any country for the provision of their healthcare and immunisations. It would certainly be noble and subject to approbation, but it is far from an obligation. Here, the question shifts from “why should we not provide for them?” to “why should we provide for them at all?”. It may sound harsh, but why is one expected to provide for another’s needs? At the end of the day, the price for vaccine redistribution is borne on the taxpayer of the developed nation, and these resources could instead alleviate poverty within their respective nations. It is generally accepted that states in our Westphalian system have a larger obligation to provide for the destitute within their communities, over that of another.
Finally, we have to consider this virus within the wider context and sphere in which it exists. The startling fact is that while vaccines do offer protection to the individual receiving it, the biggest setback to national progress and recovery would be emergences of variants resistant to our vaccines – so called “vaccine-busting” variants. So far, these variants are disproportionally likelier to come from regions with poorer healthcare and lower vaccination rates. The real kicker is that, as seen with Delta and Omicron, variants greatly affect even the richest and most vaccinated countries. It is therefore in the interest of the individual – every individual, to advocate for improved vaccine redistribution measures, which will benefit all. Otherwise, we can only foresee a Sisyphean future of a constant struggle attempting to overcome deadlier and more infectious variants.
Written by Alex Ho
Illustrations by Rosie Phillips
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