David Pilling in The Financial Times
Imagine if, in a year’s time, 300m doses of a safe and effective Covid-19 vaccine have been manufactured in Donald Trump’s America, Xi Jinping’s China or Boris Johnson’s Britain. Who is going to get them? What are the chances that a nurse in India, or a doctor in Brazil, let alone a bus driver in Nigeria or a diabetic in Tanzania, will be given priority? The answer must be virtually nil.
The ugly battle between nations over limited supplies of tests and personal protective equipment will be a sideshow compared to the scramble over a vaccine. Yet if a vaccine is to be anything like the silver bullet that some imagine, it will have to be available to the world’s poor as well as to its rich.
Any vaccine should be deployed to create the maximum possible benefit to public health. That will mean prioritising doctors, nurses and other frontline workers, as well as those most vulnerable to the disease, no matter where they live or how much they can afford.
It will also mean deploying initially limited quantities of vaccine in order to snuff out clusters of infection by encircling them with a “curtain” of immunised people — as was done successfully against Ebola last year in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
With Covid-19, this looks like a pipe dream. Far from bringing the world together, the pandemic has exposed a crisis of international disunity. The World Health Organization is only as good as its member states allow. That it finds itself squeezed between China and the US when humanity is facing its worst pandemic in 100 years, is a sign of the broken international order.
How, under such circumstances, can we possibly conceive of a vaccine policy that is global, ethical and effective?
There are precedents. The principle of access to medicines was established with the HIV-Aids pandemic, in which life-saving medicines were originally priced far above the ability of patients in Africa and other parts of the developing world to pay.
But in 2001, in the so-called Doha declaration on Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights, the World Trade Organization made it clear that governments could override patents in public health emergencies. Largely as a result, a tiered pricing system has developed in which drug companies make profits in richer countries while allowing medicines to be sold more cheaply in poorer ones.
There are also tried-and-tested methods of funding immunisation campaigns that have saved literally millions of lives in Africa, Asia and Latin America. Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance, was founded in 2000 to address market failures. It guarantees the purchase of a set number of vaccine doses so that companies can manufacture existing, or develop new, vaccines knowing there will be a market for their product.
Along similar lines, 40 governments this month pledged $8bn to speed up the development, production and equitable deployment of Covid-19 vaccines, as well as diagnostics and therapeutics. There are already more than 80 candidates for a Covid-19 vaccine, with some of these now in human trials.
Then there is manufacturing. Lack of diagnostics and PPE has exposed the flaws of a just-in-time system that builds in no redundancy. Vaccine capacity must be built up now, even if that means some of it will go to waste. Nor can existing capacity simply be given over to a putative Covid-19 vaccine. That could unwittingly unleash outbreaks of previously controlled diseases, such as mumps or rubella.
Manufacturing will also have to be dispersed geographically to ensure a vaccine can be deployed globally.
Most vaccines are international collaborations. One against Ebola was discovered in Canada, developed in the US and manufactured in Germany. It is unlikely — and certainly undesirable — that any one country will be able to claim a Covid-19 vaccine all to itself.
Even if a successful candidate is developed, not everyone will want to take it.
Heidi Larson, director of the Vaccine Confidence Project, says surveys show that up to 9 per cent of British people, 18 per cent of Austrians and 20 per cent of Swiss would not agree to be immunised. Trust in vaccines is generally higher in the developing world, where the impact of infectious disease is more obvious. But here too there could be resistance, particularly if people suspect they are being used as guinea pigs.
The vaccine against a fictional pandemic in the 2011 film Contagion is distributed through a lottery based on birth date. When a vaccine against a real-life Covid-19 is found, it must be deployed as a global public good.
Health experts estimate it will cost some $20bn to vaccinate everyone on earth, equivalent to roughly two hours of global output. This is the best bargain in the world. Let us hope the world can recognise it.
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