By Sean A. Valles, Director and Associate Professor, Center for Bioethics and Social Justice, College of Human Medicine, Michigan State University

Pessimism about the future is rising around much of the world. Meanwhile, the social institutions of democracy are experiencing slipping public support. The global COVID-19 pandemic has also drawn attention to the importance and fragility of trust.

Unfortunately, none of this should be considered new. The pandemic arrived more than a decade into a trend of declining trust in social institutions. More recently, news reports of fraud and corruption, such as misuses of pandemic relief funds, can push us to see the world as filled with people undeserving of our trust or care. Such an observation can start to look like a moral justification for our own selfishness: “the system is corrupt so I’m just going to get mine and look out for myself.”

We do not need to resign ourselves to selfishness and isolation.

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Economist Elinor Ostrom won the Nobel Prize for showing how examples from around the globe undercut the pessimistic but widespread view among scholars that the “tragedy of the commons” is practically inevitable—the idea that fishers are doomed to selfishly overfish the waters they share with other fishers, etc. That theory of inevitable selfishness and tragedy is rooted in assumptions of human nature that intuitively resonate with a lot of people, which made Ostrom’s debunking work all the harder. Not coincidentally, Garrett Hardin, the creator of a supremely pessimistic view of humanity, was a vocal racist and nativist who saw his pessimism about cooperation as grounds for treating the less privileged peoples of the world as potential invaders threating to take resources from the metaphorical “lifeboat” occupied by the privileged. Extreme pessimism about the possibility of cooperation and solidarity is toxic.

Extreme pessimism about human nature oversimplifies human behavior. Even overtly bad and apparently selfish behavior by others can be evidence of the possibility of future cooperation. For instance, recent research on academic dishonesty by students has found that cheating and plagiarism are driven in part by a desperate desire to be allowed to continue learning as part of a school’s community.

I see the COVID-19 pandemic as a series of failed but fixable attempts at ethical collaboration, and not evidence that cooperation is hopeless during crisis. Yes, the pandemic was rife with selfish acts from those previously mentioned cases of financial misconduct, extending to the problem of wealthy countries quickly buying up much of the global vaccine supply. Disturbingly, many people have felt ethically self-assured in their selfishness, such as a professor who approached me after one of my pandemic ethics lectures, complaining to me that COVID-19 vaccines were surely unethical because they allowed “the weak” to survive nature’s culling.

Despite the innumerable examples of bad behavior, there were also innumerable attempts at cooperation that either succeeded or showed enough of a spark of success that future success seems possible. Consider the case of Dorothy Oliver and Drucilla Russ-Jackson, who defied conventional wisdom about the stubbornness of vaccine skeptics by using kindness and respectful human connections to convince nearly their entire rural Alabama town to get COVID-19 vaccinations. At the global level, the World Health Organization, World Bank, and Gavi the Vaccine Alliance (among many others) all made strides toward helping ease the unethical burdens of the pandemic harming the vulnerable of the world. Each organization was in large part prevented from doing better, however, due to running into needless hurdles such as national governments resisting attempts to get more transparency in their national public health data.

International development is an endeavor based on a fundamental optimism: the conviction that helping faraway strangers is a worthwhile task. As became increasingly clear over the 20^th century, ethically helping faraway strangers is no easy task. We can easily hurt those whom we seek to help. But as with the instructive failed efforts during the pandemic, the point is that it remains possible for cooperative efforts to do better next time.

In the spirit of the desire to always do better next time in international development, the Center for Values in International Development has partnered with the Michigan State University Center for Bioethics and Social Justice. Our centers share a fundamental optimism that despite the injustices of the world, and the world’s mixed track record of attempts to make them better, the goal of creating a more equitable world is well worth working for.

One obstacle faced by our two Centers’ endeavors is that global health work and global development work remain partly stuck in their own silos, such as in the ways national and international agencies divide up their roles. Yes, effective and meaningful international development work does need to include the development of societies’ health infrastructure, but not to the exclusion of focusing on wider, intersectional issues of healthcare justice. Sectoral segmentation works against wider inclusion, the acknowledgment of intersectionalities, and consideration of structural issues in how we view human wellbeing. It remains all too common to think of health development work as another slice of the overall pie of development needs, alongside transportation development, housing development, better sewage treatment, financial management capacity strengthening, etc.

In my work, I emphasize the importance of distinguishing between the healthcare system vs. the health system. The healthcare system is just one part of the much larger set of social institutions that steer the health of populations, such as the agricultural systems that determine which foods are available in markets and at what prices. So, while healthcare (hospitals, medicines, and such) should get only a slice of the budgetary pie in international development budgets, it is important to remember that housing policies are health policies too; the same goes for transportation policies and numerous other policies. Housing security is crucial for a healthy life. Transportation is essential for meeting other life needs (shopping, accessing healthcare, etc.), while poor transportation policies can lead to air pollution and other unwanted side effects.

The language that began emerging in the 2000s is that we need “health in all policies.” That phrase has two meanings. First, it’s a call to action, asking that we make sure a society’s policies are conducive to health. For instance, development programs that encourage farmers to grow cash crops also need to take into account health impacts, such as the availability of crucial food crops and the related impacts on community nutrition. Second, “health in all policies” is a description of the way the world works. Development programs seeking to change agriculture and other vital parts of social life simply are also health policies, whether we recognize it or not. International development work affects the health of societies in innumerable ways, and often ways that get too little attention. The Center for Values in International Development brings much-needed explicit attention and analysis to the ethical dimensions of international development work and humanitarian response; we need ethics in all policies. The Center for Bioethics and Social Justice enthusiastically joins in that effort, since there is health in all policies, and our Center specializes in getting attention and analysis to the ways that such health impacts positively or negatively contribute to making health systems more “compassionate, respectful, and responsive to people’s needs, so that equity, inclusion and social justice are available to all.”

This piece was also published by the Center for Values in International Development