Profits over people

A year has passed since a deadly new variant of the mpox virus emerged in central Africa, leaving a devastating toll in its wake. Over 20,000 cases and more than 500 deaths, mostly children, have been reported, though the actual numbers are likely higher. The epicenter of the outbreak is eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), a region long forgotten by the world when it comes to health crises. Yet, as the World Health Organization declared mpox a “public health emergency of international concern,” the same cycle of inaction we saw with COVID-19 repeats itself, revealing a harsh truth: we still treat large parts of the world as disposable.

Two years ago, when a less deadly variant of mpox reached Europe and the U.S., governments reacted swiftly. Vaccines were rolled out, and the panic subsided, at least in the West. But Africa, where mpox has been endemic for decades, was forgotten once again. Western nations stockpiled vaccines, millions of doses produced, and yet none were sent to the places where they were needed most. It’s only now, a year into the outbreak, that the first vaccines have reached African soil. Nigeria received a mere 10,000 doses in August, and the DRC finally got 100,000 at the start of September. But by then, the damage was done. The virus had already spread.

The vaccine inequality is blatant, echoing the obscene disparities we saw during the COVID-19 pandemic. Wealthier nations hoard life-saving supplies while poorer countries are left scrambling, relying on delayed and insufficient donations. This global imbalance tells us one thing: in the eyes of the powerful, some lives simply don’t matter as much as others. Or, more accurately, they matter far less than the accumulation of wealth and profit.

The pharmaceutical companies behind the mpox vaccines—KM Biologics in Japan and Bavarian Nordic in Denmark—are emblematic of this. Bavarian Nordic’s share price has skyrocketed thanks to the mpox outbreak, fueled by a vaccine largely funded by public money. Yet the cost to inoculate one person is a staggering $200, a price tag far out of reach for countries like the DRC. Despite calls from advocacy groups to share the technology and allow lower-income countries to produce the vaccine at a fraction of the cost, the company refuses. Why? Because “that’s not how their business model works.”

This is capitalism at its most ruthless: profits over people, and the DRC, with its decades-long struggle against mpox, is left in the cold. The argument that pharmaceutical companies need to maintain high prices to encourage innovation holds little water when lives are on the line. Especially when the innovation in question was subsidized by the very public funds that now cannot afford the end product. While some nations like Spain have stepped up, pledging to donate 500,000 doses, these are drops in the ocean.

Even when we do finally see donations trickling in, it’s not enough. The root of the problem is that these donations are band-aid solutions to a much deeper wound. To truly address the issue, pharmaceutical companies like Bavarian Nordic and KM Biologics need to share their research and technology with manufacturers in low-income countries. Only then can we build sustainable systems where Africa and South Asian countries can meet their own vaccine needs. But, predictably, this hasn’t happened.

There is also the argument that distributing the vaccines, once they are available, is a challenge in itself. And while that may be true, it doesn’t justify the hoarding of technology or keeping prices so high that only the wealthy can afford it. Even as mpox spreads across the DRC, parts of the pharmaceutical industry and their backers continue to oppose international frameworks like the Pandemic Treaty- measures that would better prepare the world for future pandemics. Why? Because saving lives shouldn’t come at the cost of corporate profits, it seems. The intellectual property rights of these companies are deemed more important than the survival of the Global South.

But this crisis is about more than just vaccines. It reflects a global system that places a far lower value on human life than it does on the unassailable right to profit. We accept this because we have been conditioned to believe that some countries are inherently helpless, that places like the DRC are doomed to suffer. But that’s not the truth. The DRC is not poor in spite of its wealth, it is poor because of it.

The DRC should be one of the richest countries in the world, with its vast reserves of metals and minerals that power our modern lives. But centuries of colonial exploitation, brutal dictatorships, and external meddling have left the nation bleeding. Its people are disposable when they stand in the way of extracting profit. Today, mpox is spreading across a region that has already been destabilized by militias, some of them backed by neighboring countries, all to continue the plunder of resources. Western governments do little to prevent this destabilization. It’s no coincidence that the people affected by this outbreak live on top of the very resources that make others rich.

The global response to the mpox crisis needs to change, and it needs to change fast. Our health is interconnected, whether we want to acknowledge it or not. Valuing the lives of the people in Central Africa should not be a radical idea- it should be a moral imperative. And it starts by prioritizing vaccinations over corporate profits and selfish stockpiling. Rich nations need to step up with massive donations, not just in vaccines but in the resources needed to administer them and treat patients. More importantly, the vaccine know-how must be transferred to local manufacturers, enabling Africa to build sovereignty over its healthcare and respond to future crises.

This is just the beginning. The vaccine inequality we’re witnessing with mpox is only a symptom of a much larger, deeply unjust global system. It’s not just about getting vaccines into arms- it’s about dismantling the structures that keep the DRC destabilized, the extraction machine churning, and human lives disposable. It’s about ending tax dodging and resource looting, addressing the legacies of colonialism and exploitation, and finally seeing the people of the Global South as equals in a shared world.

We face an enormous challenge, but the alternative, continuing to ignore the needs and lives of vast swathes of humanity, is not only immoral, it is a danger to us all. In a world where pandemics cross borders without a second thought, none of us can be safe until we all are.