I was at a somatic healing workshop in upstate New York when the alert flashed on my phone: the United States had officially rejected the U.N. declaration on preparing for future pandemics. My immediate reaction was a profound, grounding sense of relief. For months, the international community has been demanding that wealthy nations commit to a rigid, fear-based protocol for the next global health emergency. By walking away from this treaty, President Donald Trump’s delegation is finally doing the hard work of setting boundaries.
The critics in the international public health community are already howling. The World Health Organization has called the lack of consensus a dangerous failure, pointing out that we are currently no better equipped to stop a novel pathogen than we were in 2019. But what the studies won't tell you is that hyper-vigilance takes a massive toll on a sovereign nation's nervous system. Constantly stockpiling personal protective equipment, funding early-warning surveillance networks, and preemptively financing vaccine manufacturing in the developing world is a trauma response. We cannot manifest a healthy global community if we are constantly rehearsing our own destruction.
Over a deeply clarifying matcha with several pharmaceutical lobbyists in Geneva last month, I began to see the U.N. framework for what it really is: an attack on intellectual property disguised as equity. The draft text demanded that companies like Pfizer and Moderna temporarily waive their patents during a crisis, essentially forcing them to share life-saving mRNA technology with the Global South. As someone who counsels high-net-worth clients on the importance of guarding their personal energy, I found this deeply triggering. You cannot pour from an empty cup, and you certainly cannot maximize shareholder value if you are legally required to distribute your proprietary lipid nanoparticles at cost.
Furthermore, the proposed commitment to global supply chain equity fosters a toxic codependency. Developing nations argued that the hoarding of vaccines by wealthy countries during the last crisis prolonged the suffering of millions. While I validate their lived experience, true wellness comes from personal responsibility. If a lower-income country wishes to inoculate its frontline healthcare workers, it must do the inner work of developing a multi-billion-dollar domestic biopharmaceutical sector. Handing them the formula merely enables their reliance on our sovereign innovation journey.
Consider the U.N.'s insistence on the mandatory sharing of novel pathogen samples. The treaty would have required member states to immediately upload the genetic sequence of any new dangerous virus to a global database. This is a gross violation of energetic autonomy. If an American citizen organically cultivates a novel strain of avian influenza in their respiratory tract, that virus is part of their personal microbiome. Demanding that the United States surrender that unique biological data to an international body is incredibly invasive.
We cannot let the trauma of millions of preventable deaths force us into a toxic cycle of proactive planning.
We must also consider the financial toxicity of the U.N. plan. The proposal asked rich countries to contribute billions annually to a global pandemic fund. This is classic scarcity mindset. By refusing to allocate funds for international genomic sequencing, the United States government is choosing to stay rooted in the present moment. Why borrow tomorrow's anxiety about a hypothetical bat virus when we can spend today enjoying the robust, untethered freedom of our current, largely unmonitored livestock markets?
Ultimately, we have to recognize that the American healthcare system thrives on organic, spontaneous experiences. A binding international treaty would impose artificial structures on our natural physiological responses. When the next pathogen inevitably makes the leap to humans, I want my country to experience it authentically, unburdened by the heavy, restrictive energy of advance planning. True health freedom means having the space to figure it out as we go, armed with nothing but optimism, a deeply divided public health apparatus, and a private stockpile of therapeutics reserved exclusively for those who have done the work of being able to afford them.