New Era of Solidarity or a Mechanism of Control? A Rational Critique of the Global Health Agenda While Memories of Lockdowns and Human Rights Suppression Are Still Fresh
The World Health Organization (WHO) Pandemic Agreement was signed after three years of negotiations. The global health community sees it as an attempt to draw concrete lessons from the COVID-19 pandemic for future preparedness. However, many questions have arisen about the agreement’s effectiveness and potential consequences. A major point of contention is that the United States, under Donald Trump’s leadership, is not a signatory, significantly weakening the perception of a supposed “unified global front” against future pandemics. For many, this development proves that the agreement may lack real enforcement power, as a “superpower” is no longer part of a mechanism intended to apply to the whole world.
Supporters of the agreement highlight positive developments such as the establishment of a framework for sharing pathogenic materials, improved global coordination, and the fairer distribution of vaccines and other medical resources in future health crises. According to the document, countries commit to cooperating with WHO before and during pandemics. A key point is the effort to prevent the emergence of new pandemics, for instance, through better surveillance of zoonoses (viruses transmitted from animals to humans). The idea is to identify and isolate such hotspots early. Proponents argue this would make local crises less likely to become global catastrophes. However, the entire project stands on shaky ground if major countries—like the U.S.—decide to implement their own measures, potentially independent of WHO.
Skeptics, on the other hand, fear the agreement could become another tool for imposing restrictive measures, including new lockdowns, which were highly controversial during the last pandemic. Recall that during COVID-19, we witnessed rapid imposition of movement restrictions, school and business closures, and suspension of many human rights, accompanied by strong pressure from media and ruling structures to enforce a unified narrative. It is therefore unsurprising that part of the public fears future quarantines and measures might be implemented even more swiftly, now that there is an international consensus claiming drastic interventions are “necessary” to protect public health. In practice, it remains an open question how binding such a consensus would be if certain member states decide to go their own way—especially those with massive influence on global politics and economics.
Many experts warn that a new pandemic is only a matter of time. In a world where people and goods move constantly, the risk of pathogen spread has never been higher. Advanced biomedical technologies, climate change, and habitat destruction further worsen the likelihood of facing a new infectious disease. WHO’s response, in the form of this agreement, supposedly attempts to create a system of early warning and international assistance. Still, the experience with COVID-19 showed that even the most detailed plans mean little if countries don’t adhere to them, or if top-down decisions are politically misused. For some, this proves that the agreement can only be implemented to the extent that individual states are willing—bringing us back to questions of sovereignty and political interests.
The conflict between “globalists” and “sovereigntists” becomes another layer of political complexity in the story of this pandemic agreement. Globalists see WHO and similar international institutions as necessary coordinators because pandemics know no borders. Sovereigntists, on the other hand, accuse WHO of imposing one-size-fits-all bureaucratic solutions that ignore individual contexts and could further undermine national sovereignty. Trump’s America has taken a clear stance—withdrawal from WHO membership, a move many harshly criticize as “selfish.” But the question remains: What exactly does the U.S. lose by not signing the agreement? If a new pandemic strikes, it is almost certain Washington will respond—but according to its own plan, not WHO guidelines. This might lead to a lack of global coordination, but given the U.S.’s economic and political power, it’s possible their models will become de facto standards for others—even without a formal cooperation mechanism.
The issue of mandatory or “recommended” vaccination adds further sensitivity. While some in the scientific community believe the COVID-19 vaccine testing process was appropriate given the crisis, many citizens remain skeptical because the vaccines were approved in much shorter timeframes than usual. WHO assures that the agreement does not mandate global compulsory vaccination, and that national governments decide their own strategies. Still, there is a sense that future pandemic measures might increase pressure on populations—especially through social stigmatization and restricted access to public services for the unvaccinated.
Another perspective worth mentioning is the social and leftist (but not globalist) viewpoint, where the key concern is the protection of human rights and equitable distribution of medical resources—without prioritizing profits for pharmaceutical giants.
Criticism from the left that has not assimilated into liberalism argues that WHO is overly influenced by pharmaceutical corporations and Western donors, effectively turning global health into a lucrative business instead of a common human good. Furthermore, some argue that WHO focuses too much on individualistic measures—such as personal hygiene and vaccination—while paying too little attention to deeper causes of health inequality: poverty, unequal access to education, poor nutrition, and inhumane working conditions. From that perspective, the new pandemic agreement might not solve the systemic roots of poor health and could, at best, only ease the symptoms. Critics also warn that WHO’s global policies, which rely heavily on donor funding, might be unfairly influenced by multinational corporations and wealthy states. The solutions often favor big capital interests, while real change—like publicly funded, non-profit-driven research—is pushed to the margins.
As we clearly remember, the COVID-19 pandemic was largely managed by private corporations, which quickly offered “salvation” in the form of their vaccines—earning astronomical profits in the process.
On the other hand, it’s important to be objective and acknowledge that the WHO’s core idea is not a “conspiracy against humanity.” Throughout its history, the organization has contributed to eradicating or mitigating deadly diseases (e.g., smallpox), and its role in coordinating public health campaigns and research worldwide has real value. The issues lie primarily in funding methods and increasing political pressure on the organization. When global crises like COVID-19 emerge, WHO often has to “sit on two chairs”: trying to follow scientific and health priorities while responding to political and corporate demands from all sides. The result is a compromise that satisfies neither rational critics, nor sovereigntists, nor extreme globalists. This might be precisely why the new pandemic agreement is expected to face noticeable public distrust: for some, it will go too far—for others, not far enough.
Ultimately, what matters is the concrete effect of the adopted document. The agreement appears to lack strong enforcement mechanisms: if a country simply decides not to follow its provisions—or, like the U.S., doesn’t sign it at all—it remains unclear who would hold that country accountable. In theory, rich countries could ignore obligations related to vaccine and resource distribution, just as the wealthiest nations secured massive vaccine stockpiles in advance during COVID-19. That pandemic already revealed stark global inequalities. Although the new document includes some commitments—like sharing 20% of products such as vaccines—enforcement remains questionable: Will pharmaceutical giants, in alliance with powerful governments, be able to bypass these agreements? Will WHO have any real enforcement power? Clearly, it will not.
For many, memories of sudden and radical restrictions on freedoms during the pandemic are still fresh. It’s no surprise, then, that people fear such scenarios could happen again—possibly even faster—under a new virus strain. The fact is that global economies and political elites showed a willingness to implement unprecedented measures quickly, citing scientific consensus. But experience tells us that public pressure may be just as intense—or even greater—especially if people are expected to accept experimental solutions (new, insufficiently tested vaccines, aggressive surveillance measures, etc.). Such pressure could escalate social tensions and further politicize health issues (as is already happening). In the future—particularly in a world facing economic crises and growing inequality—such measures could lead to unrest (and those preparing for new “measures” are likely already factoring that in).
Perhaps the only fair conclusion is that reality isn’t black and white: the WHO pandemic agreement has both positive and negative aspects. The idea of global solidarity and timely information exchange is certainly commendable, but without political will, proper funding, and strong checks on pharmaceutical influence, many provisions risk becoming empty rhetoric. A new pandemic is certainly possible, and the lessons from the previous one should teach us that we need transparency, international cooperation, and protection of human rights—not just on paper, but in practice. If many rights were revoked overnight during the last crisis, it is crucial to stay vigilant regarding future pandemic strategies. As long as there is doubt about who truly benefits from global health measures, skepticism toward new agreements remains both legitimate and justified.
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