In the year 2025, I could go on social media and openly denounce religion, insult God, or spew racism, sexism, classism, and ageism—and not only would I likely get away with it, I might even gain followers. But the moment I say something about vaccines that doesn’t align precisely with the views of the CDC or the broader medical establishment, platforms like YouTube, Instagram, and Facebook are quick to shut it down. Why? Because there's a deep cultural fear surrounding the topic of vaccines, and the conversation has become so charged, it feels like we're back in the dark ages—where even questioning the narrative makes you a heretic.
So how can we talk about vaccines in a way that’s honest and balanced? First, we must acknowledge the life-saving role of modern medicine. It has extended human life and performed true miracles in areas like emergency care and childbirth. These interventions have helped countless people survive traumatic injuries and complications during birth—outcomes that would have been fatal just a century ago. That’s worth recognizing.
At the same time, we have to be realistic about the darker side of the pharmaceutical industry. It’s one of the most powerful lobbies in the world, largely because of the enormous revenue it generates. This creates a system that, frankly, is lopsided. Take this comparison: if I owned a juice shop and one person got sick because of a contaminated batch—no deaths, just illness—every health agency in the country would be at my door. I’d likely be shut down and possibly even face criminal charges.
But when pharmaceutical companies release products that result in injury, severe side effects, or even death, the consequences are minimal. They’re protected under the banner of the “greater good.” Meanwhile, small businesses like mine don’t have the financial power to form a juice industry lobby in Washington. It’s not an even playing field—and it’s that imbalance that makes honest conversation around these topics so difficult, yet so necessary.
Let’s take a moment to consider what vaccines are and how they work—especially when compared to other medical interventions. For example, if you’re bitten by a venomous snake, the antidote is often made from that very same venom. To survive a rattlesnake bite, you’re injected with a serum derived from rattlesnake venom itself. It sounds counterintuitive, but it’s highly effective.
Vaccines operate on a similar principle. For the body to build resistance to a pathogen, it needs to be exposed to a small, controlled amount of that pathogen—or something that mimics it—so the immune system can learn how to defend itself. Anti-vaccine voices often overlook this basic concept. But the fact remains: vaccines train the body to fight, just as antivenom teaches it to neutralize poison.
Of course, there are valid concerns. Is there risk involved in taking a vaccine? Yes, just like with any medical procedure. But consider this—if a child were hospitalized with a deadly illness, and a vaccine could significantly increase their chance of survival, most rational people would opt to take that chance. To refuse it in the face of imminent death would seem reckless.
That brings us to the real question: what disease are we talking about, and what vaccine? Is the company behind it trustworthy? Just because one pharmaceutical company has a shady track record doesn’t mean they all do. And in the context of a global pandemic—where hundreds of thousands are dying—the urgency shifts. It becomes a matter of weighing risks in real time, with limited information and high stakes.
During the COVID-19 pandemic in 2021, some claimed the virus was fabricated. I can tell you from personal experience—it wasn’t. I had it twice, and I assure you, it was very real. These conversations about vaccines need to be grounded in both logic and lived experience—not just fear, conspiracy, or blind trust.
Maybe I wasn’t the ideal candidate for the vaccine. I was strong, healthy, and had a clean diet. I stayed home, rested, and recovered. But what about people with weakened or compromised immune systems? What about young children, the elderly, and those already battling illness? Should we not at least try to create vaccines that could save their lives—especially when it’s clear that people were dying?
It’s completely valid to question the motives and ethics of pharmaceutical companies. At the same time, many people simply comply: “My doctor said it’s safe,” or “The government mandates it,” and so they move forward without asking deeper questions. Somewhere between blind trust and total distrust, there must be space for reasonable discourse.
Those who oppose vaccines need to recognize that some vaccines do save lives. And those who are fully in favor of them must also acknowledge that injuries and side effects happen—just as they do with medications like lithium, Prozac, or countless others that carry long lists of risks. Every drug has the potential to heal, and every drug has the potential to harm. Some people have allergic reactions to penicillin; others tolerate it just fine. So no position—pro or anti-vaccine—should be taken as absolute truth. It’s not black and white.
The conversation about vaccines should not be dominated by fear, paranoia, or corporate interests. It should be driven by transparency, science, compassion, and nuance. In the end, it’s in a pharmaceutical company’s best interest to develop effective, low-risk drugs—because they profit more from widespread trust than from controversy or harm. But does that mean companies never rush drugs to market or cut corners? Of course not. Some absolutely do. And that’s precisely why open, balanced dialogue is essential—so we can evolve into a society that protects both truth and health.
There’s a fundamental dilemma when it comes to vaccines: the ability to cure or prevent disease represents an extraordinary form of power. And as history has shown us, absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely. When capitalism and consumerism are deeply entangled with medicine—especially something as vital as vaccination—the system becomes vulnerable. In a society driven by competition, where one person’s gain often comes at another’s expense, people can become resources to exploit rather than lives to protect. This dynamic makes it difficult to trust the process entirely.
On the other hand, simply handing over vaccine development to the government isn’t a flawless solution either. Bureaucracy, inefficiency, and the potential for political abuse pose serious risks—especially if that power falls into the wrong hands. Vaccination, like any tool, can be used to help or to control. So what’s the average person supposed to do?
The answer lies somewhere in the middle. You have to navigate the cracks. Take advantage of the benefits of medicine while minimizing exposure to the risks. That means becoming a well-informed consumer—someone who doesn’t blindly trust government or industry, but also doesn’t reject everything out of fear or principle. Healthy skepticism is necessary. Governments are subject to corruption. Corporations make mistakes. These truths don’t mean all vaccines are dangerous or evil. They mean the conversation requires nuance, personal responsibility, and critical thinking.
One can not say that all vaccines are bad—just as you can’t say that all vaccines are safe and effective. The truth lies somewhere in between. The real issue comes down to trust: trusting that the politicians we elect will do their job in overseeing pharmaceutical companies, enforcing regulations, and protecting public health. For that to work, there must be systems of accountability—like compensatory laws that allow individuals to sue vaccine manufacturers when harm occurs. Legal consequences keep companies honest. We need whistleblowers. We need transparency. Without it, power always drifts toward abuse.
On the other hand, we also have to call out the flood of misinformation online. There are countless self-proclaimed “experts” parroting the same tired conspiracy theories with zero originality or depth. They don’t offer thoughtful critiques or new perspectives—they just recycle fear-driven rhetoric that divides people and shuts down meaningful conversation. This fear-mongering creates collective anxiety, and when a society is anxious, it tends to make poor decisions.
One last point: if you're passionately anti-vaccine but have no issue shopping at health food stores filled with ultra-processed products, mystery additives, and refined sugar, you might want to check your logic. How can we distrust medicine so fiercely while casually consuming products that also pose long-term risks to our health? If we're going to be critical thinkers, we have to be consistent—and willing to question everything we put in our bodies, not just the things that go in a syringe.
If you take a serious look at the human food supply—all the pesticides, chemicals, and processed junk—we're exposed to far more cumulative harm over a lifetime than from vaccines. The side effects and long-term health issues linked to poor diet and foodborne illness are far more widespread than anything vaccines could “copycat.” I’m not blindly for or against vaccines. But I can say this: if I were lying in a hospital bed with a life-threatening disease, and there was a vaccine that could help, I’d take it.
But I’d also do the work. I’d use my breath to center myself. I’d accept the side effects. I’d focus on healing—not just from the disease, but from the strain that the vaccine might place on my system. I’d clean up my diet, meditate, move my body, and restore balance. That’s the mindset we need in society—not just debates over whether to vaccinate, but a deeper conversation about why we’re so sick in the first place.
If we look back at history, many of the pandemics that devastated humanity were made worse by poor living conditions—contaminated water, unhygienic habits, and weakened immune systems caused by nutrient-deficient diets. Of course, some of it is just the nature of life: viruses and bacteria have always lived among us. Illness is part of the human experience. But the rate and scale of spread is directly tied to how we live.
One obvious way to reduce disease transmission would be to return to smaller, tighter communities—like our ancestors lived in. When your tribe is only 500 people deep and you don’t interact with outsiders, your exposure is drastically limited. Unless a virus is foodborne and you're sharing the same contaminated source, it simply can’t spread in the same way. That’s not necessarily practical today, but it’s a useful reminder: our modern lifestyles—crowded cities, global travel, overprocessed diets—are a huge part of the problem. It’s time we start talking about prevention as much as we talk about treatment.
Vaccinate Carefully—With Intelligence
When considering vaccination, approach it with intelligence and humility. It’s not just about whether you're for or against—it’s about learning. Take the time to understand the illness in question: its origins, its history, how it spreads, and who it affects. Don’t rely on a single Google search or an AI-generated answer. Read from multiple sources, compare perspectives. But even then, remember—you're not an expert just because you’ve read a few articles. Without firsthand research or scientific testing, you're a listener, an observer. Use that position to develop common sense, not rigid certainty.
Stay humble—on both sides of the vaccine debate. Keep an open mind. Listen to each other. Respect opposing concerns. Negotiate, don’t attack.
The reason messages like this often fall on deaf ears is because many people are operating from a place of chronic anxiety. When we’re in that reactive, emotional state, we’re not thinking with our higher brain—we're stuck in survival mode. And over time, we start to intellectualize those emotions and turn them into belief systems. For many, especially those shaped by difficult childhoods or naturally prone to anxiety, conspiracy theories offer comfort and clarity where the world seems overwhelming and chaotic.
On the flip side, there are corrupt individuals and systems that exploit that chaos—often shielded by governments, policies, and money. This is where transparency is crucial. It would go a long way if pharmaceutical companies were more open with the public, if they put real, relatable people at the forefront instead of polished PR spokespeople. Imagine public town hall-style meetings where everyday people could voice their concerns directly, and real doctors and pharmaceutical representatives could respond—not with rehearsed soundbites, but with honesty and science.
We need conversation, not division. We need mutual respect, not distrust. As long as we stay polarized, the anxiety festers and nothing gets solved. It's time to meet in the middle and talk like human beings—because that’s the only way forward.