Nothing about the coronavirus disease has been fair. But in a bid to distribute the Covid-19 vaccine equitably, leaders around the world might have slowed down the pace of delivery and put minorities, poor communities and other hard-hit groups in more danger. Despite drug manufacturers racing to deliver tens of millions of vaccine doses across the globe, many remain unused. It's a stunning bottleneck that stems, in part, from stringent rules governing who gets it first. Take the U.S. Over 70% of doses distributed to states remain unused. In the interest of fairness, most states reserved the first shots exclusively for health-care workers tirelessly treating Covid-19 patients. Some states -- like New York -- even set fines for people who jump in line to get the vaccine. In theory, this makes complete sense. We all know health-care workers deserve to get the shots first. But in actuality, strict exclusivity is adding to the gridlock. In New York, for instance, some 30% of health-care workers offered the vaccine have turned it down. Hospitals are constrained from giving those doses to other groups, which leads not only to waste, but also slows the larger inoculation drive. Photographer: Liesa Johannssen-Koppitz/Bloomberg Photographer: Liesa Johannssen-Koppitz/Bloomberg In Germany, the health ministry acknowledged that prioritizing nursing homes has led to delays. "But we intentionally prioritized the most vulnerable groups," one spokesperson told the New York Times. By contrast, Israel has emerged as the standout nation in vaccine delivery, inoculating 15 per every 100 people compared to around 1.5 in the U.S. One reason is because Israel replaced the notion of exclusivity with priority. That means health-care workers get priority, but if there happens to be excess doses, hospitals are encouraged to provide them to anyone. That includes a random pizza delivery guy on the street, says Michael Botta, a health economist and co-founder of health-care start-up Sesame. "I worry that by trying to be too perfect here, we're slowing the process," Botta says. "If you're a lower-income American, your exposure and risks are higher and you can get Covid from anyone. So we need to do whatever it takes to lower the overall death rate." Some U.S. states are beginning to move onto other priority groups. South Carolina, for instance, warned health-care workers they'd lose their place in line if they don't get their shots, and California is set to give providers more flexibility to dispense shots to people beyond those on the priority list. Of course, stories are already emerging around the rich and powerful jumping the line. It's an expected outcome made more unsettling by how disproportionately worse the virus hit minorities and poor communities. But Botta says that looking through the lens of behavioral economics, there's a case to be made that as long as rich people don't crowd out others, a small number of tales of powerful people crawling through broken glass to get the Covid-19 shot could actually make the vaccine drive more successful. Because an air of desirability could boost vaccination rates among minorities and lower-income communities who have historically been more reticent to take them. "I want more people to care about getting a vaccine than a Playstation," Botta says. |
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