Improving Public Health

Improving Public Health
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David Mansdoerfer
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Commentary
Once a field grounded in data, experimentation, and skepticism, public health has morphed into something resembling a secular religion. Where it used to prioritize measurable outcomes and open debate, it now often demands faith, enforces dogma, and ostracizes dissenters. This transformation, accelerated by the COVID-19 pandemic, threatens the credibility of public health and its ability to serve the common good.

The Academic Roots of Public Health

Historically, public health was an academic discipline rooted in the scientific method. From John Snow’s cholera investigations in 19th-century London to the eradication of smallpox in the 20th century, public health relied on evidence, hypothesis testing, and iterative progress. Practitioners debated fiercely, questioned assumptions, and adapted to new data. The field’s strength lay in its humility: no single expert or institution claimed to have all the answers, and policies were shaped through scrutiny.
This academic rigor produced tangible results. Life expectancy in the United States rose from 47 years in 1900 to 78 years by 2000, thanks to sanitation and disease surveillance. Public health was a collaborative enterprise, blending epidemiology, biology, and sociology to address complex problems. Its authority came from transparency and a willingness to be proven wrong.

The Rise of Dogma

Today, public health increasingly resembles a religion, complete with sacred tenets, high priests, and excommunication for heretics. The shift began subtly but became undeniable during the COVID-19 pandemic. Mandates on masks, lockdowns, and vaccines were often presented as unquestionable truths, despite evolving evidence and legitimate uncertainties. For instance, early claims that masks were universally effective ignored nuanced studies showing varied efficacy depending on type and setting. Yet, questioning these mandates was labeled “anti-science,” a scarlet letter that silenced debate.

This dogmatism extends beyond pandemics. Public health now often prioritizes ideology over evidence. Take the debate over ultra-processed foods: while data links them to obesity and chronic disease, some public health officials downplay the issue, citing “food equity” or industry ties. Similarly, harm reduction strategies like supervised injection sites are championed as moral imperatives, even where studies show mixed results on community impact. Dissenters—whether scientists, journalists, or citizens—are dismissed as heretics, their arguments ignored rather than engaged.

The language of public health mirrors religious fervor. Terms like “trust the science” evoke faith, not scrutiny. Institutions like the CDC and WHO are treated as infallible, despite documented missteps. On platforms like X, public health advocates often frame compliance as a moral duty, casting skeptics as selfish or dangerous. This echoes religious calls to sacrifice for the greater good, not the open inquiry of academia.

The Priesthood and the Flock

Public health’s new clergy—celebrity experts, agency heads, and influencers—wield authority akin to religious leaders. Figures like Anthony Fauci became near-saintly during the pandemic, their words treated as gospel despite inconsistencies. Meanwhile, the public is cast as a flock, expected to follow without question. This dynamic erodes the academic principle of peer review, replacing it with top-down pronouncements.
The priesthood enforces orthodoxy through social and professional penalties. Scientists who questioned lockdown efficacy, like those behind the Great Barrington Declaration, faced censorship and career threats. A 2023 study found that 25 percent of U.S. academics reported self-censoring on public health issues to avoid backlash. This is not science; it’s inquisition. True academia thrives on challenge, but public health’s new religion punishes it.

Why This Matters

The shift from discipline to dogma undermines public trust. A 2024 Gallup poll showed only 40 percent of Americans trust public health institutions, down from 70 percent in 2000. This erosion fuels skepticism toward vaccines, screenings, and other interventions, as people conflate legitimate tools with overreach. When public health demands blind faith, it alienates the very audience it needs to persuade.
Moreover, treating public health as a religion stifles innovation. Academic fields advance by questioning orthodoxy—think Galileo—but today’s public health punishes such courage. This risks stagnation at a time when chronic diseases affect 60 percent of Americans and new pathogens loom.

Reclaiming the Discipline

To restore public health as an academic pursuit, we must reject its religious trappings. First, institutions must prioritize transparency, releasing raw data and admitting uncertainties. The CDC’s reluctance to share vaccine side-effect data, citing “misinterpretation,” breeds distrust. Second, debate must be encouraged, not vilified. Platforms like X, where unfiltered voices challenge orthodoxy, can help, but only if public health engages rather than dismisses them. Finally, the field must diversify its priesthood, amplifying voices from outside the elite echo chamber—community doctors, statisticians, even skeptics.

Public health’s power lies in its ability to improve lives through reason, not revelation. By shedding dogma and embracing scrutiny, it can reclaim its academic soul. If it fails, it risks becoming a relic—a faith few follow, and fewer trust.

Views expressed in this article are opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.
David Mansdoerfer
David Mansdoerfer
Author
David Mansdoerfer is the former Deputy Assistant Secretary for Health and currently serves as an adjunct professor in health policy and politics at Pepperdine University School of Public Policy.