How women are leading the way on universal health coverage – and make the world more equitable and safe

Global health is heavily dominated by male leaders. But women seem to be leading the way on universal health coverage (UHC). In this article, I outline why this may the case, and argue why it’s high time to place UHC higher on the global health and political agenda.

Women leadership during COVID-19 – or in countries with UHC?

During the COVID-19 pandemic, one key finding was that countries with women leaders seemed to be faring better. As this article in Forbes summarises, New Zealand under Ahern, Germany led by Merkel, and countries such as Finland, Iceland, Denmark, Norway, Taiwan (and I’d add South Korea and Scotland) – all led by women during the pandemic – reacted faster, communicated more transparently, and tried to place the health of people above other interests.

What’s striking to me as I work on health systems and universal health coverage (UHC) this year is that these same countries also all have public health and health financing systems based on UHC. Looking back, the connection between UHC and pandemic preparedness was clear to many specialists, but it was rarely noted on front-page headlines or noticed by the public. At least I never recall seeing a headline stating “countries led by women and with UHC were more equitable and safe”.

Just this week, I noticed that a high-level panel discussion in London featured only women (and Rob Yates, who has championed UHC for decades). I also noticed that women-led global health partnerships are advocating for UHC, such as the co-authors of a Lancet Global Health article that was published this week (together with Justin Koonin, also a longstanding UHC advocate). When you look at the photos below, this is not the all-male-led global health landscape we typically see.

Chatham House Centre for Universal Health & All-Party Parliamentary Group on Global Health event on UHC

Coalition of Partnerships for UHC and Global Health article in Lancet Global Health

UHC and women

Why do more women than men seem to support UHC?

First, UHC aims to cover all people – including women and girls, who are often neglected, in particular in health systems that require out-of-pocket payments, or only provide health services to formally employed and insured people.

Second, UHC aims to provide all people with all essential prevention and care services – including sexual and reproductive services and care – affecting not only the health but also lives and futures of women.

Third, as women in most countries handle the care of family members and have caretaking roles in communities (including most frontline health worker roles), women are aware of diverse health needs, diseases and health burdens that are often neglected when policies are designed and funded in a top-down manner (often resulting in narrow vertical interventions and products, or focusing only on specific population groups).

Many men also advocate for UHC. When I worked at the World Bank, then President Jim Kim was a strong advocate for UHC. Barack Obama as President tried and men like Bernie Sanders continue to try to push America towards UHC. But looking at current global health leadership, and also increasingly heavily male-dominated leadership across all countries globally, very few men appear to be leading the way on UHC, or heavily prioritise other issues and agendas.

Women lead advocacy, but who leads on funding?

What strikes me most in the current global health landscape is that global health organisations led by med are also those that have the most funding. Their boards are also heavily dominated by men. Organisations led by women – many of which are frequently partnerships or coalitions – are stronger advocates for UHC, but don’t hold the purse-strings for billions of dollars.

Following national and global politics, I’ve noticed some parallels at the head of state level. Women were welcomed and celebrated as leaders in times of a pandemic, requiring high interpersonal and communication skills. But as other crises (such as the invasion of Ukraine or energy crisis) emerged, men were expected to take over and lead. Issues such as investing in health workers, protecting sexual and reproductive rights, or addressing issues such as mental health or chronic illnesses – all central to advancing UHC – and key to a more equitable and safer world – have dropped off the political agenda. It seems short-sighted to see these issues as affecting only women, or as must-haves only during the peak of a crisis.

I may of course be seeing correlations where no causal relationships exist. But looking at the photos above, and reflecting on where women lead – and where and when men still dominate – I’m left with some questions:

• Where are the men leading on UHC advocacy – and more importantly, implementation and funding?
• Which political leaders are implementing lessons from the pandemic, including strengthening health systems and making these more equitable, accessible, and affordable in all countries?
• Who is walking (and funding) the talk to make the world more equitable and safe?

Can we make the world more equitable and safe?

As I’ve stated many times before in these blogs and elsewhere, I don’t believe in all-women-leadership. I believe in gender equality that respects the value and roles of all genders, diversity across all dimensions, and allyship. I also acknowledge that UHC is a concept and framework that in its implementation to date still has many flaws in many countries.

But if we could move towards addressing the real and diverse health needs of real people, instead of selling silver-bullets that often prioritise products or infrastructure over people, and if we could build better health systems so that they are accessible and affordable to all people – and strengthen those people who deliver care and health services – UHC is in my view the best blueprint we have.

Women are currently leading the way on UHC, and on making the world more equitable and safe, but we need men to support, fund, and help implement this effort too.

Honesty and humility in global health

In this last article in a series unpacking my personal 2023 global health manifesto, I explore my fifth and final value: honesty and humility.

Cartoon: (c) Mark Anderson

Imagine…

“Many thanks for inviting me to take stock of the past two years of the pandemic response. Has our response been a success? I’d like to be honest: we have failed to equitably distribute vaccines, diagnostics, and medicines globally.”

“What went wrong in your opinion?”

“We designed a distribution model that assumed pharmaceutical companies would ramp up production massively and keep prices low, to cater for global demand. Our model also assumed that richer countries would pace their response, and prioritise health workers and vulnerable populations globally first.”

“So are you saying the model was based on incorrect assumptions?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We should have adopted lessons from the AIDS-response, but we assumed Covid would be different. We were wrong. We have also learned that pharmaceutical companies in exceptional circumstances need to waive IP rights. We could have saved millions of lives, and shortened the peak period of the pandemic by months, if not a year.”

“Who is responsible for these failures?”

“We all are, and I in my leadership role also take full responsbility for my own decisions. Our board does too.”

“What has to change for us to prevent this from happening again, in your opinion?”

“Everything has to change. We have learned that our current model is not delivering in the face of global catastrophic crises, which we know will become more frequent, with climate change, increased conflict, and a more polarised world. We need to take a hard look at incentive structures, business models, and the role of government regulation and responsibility.”

“Are you personally willing to admit that you have made mistakes, in your leadership function?”

“We have all made mistakes, and yes, I too was blinded by a belief that my organisation, based on previous operations, could be able to deliver even when all facts were pointing in a different direction already early on in the pandemic. We should have changed course, but instead tried to sell a model and product that was clearly broken, with ever more buzzwords that seemed to make our donors and funding partners satisfied. I take full responsibility for our mistakes, and lives lost as a result.”

Who cares if we stretch the truth a little, and just a bit more?

In my personal global health manifesto, I wrote: “If we fail, we must admit failure, trigger a sunset clause, and learn our lessons to be better next time. Let‘s be honest enough not to continue to sell what we know doesn‘t deliver.” We’re clearly not yet anywhere close to this point. The scenario I imagined above could not be further from what we are seeing happen right now at this moment.

The consequence of stretching truths, or sometimes selling blatant lies is that “global health is not only failing, it is doing harm.” Real people suffer – real people die – just because some people have prioritized shiny egos over honest stocktaking and accountability.

What has to change?

To achieve real impact in global health, we need to:

1, 2, 3 and always) Be honest and speak truth to power. Ask uncomfortable questions, dig deeper when something feels wrong, speak out, and ensure wrongs are not repeated. Every single time. Silent bystanders are complicit to wrong-doing, perpetuating injustices, and maintaining a global health sector that is broken and does not deliver what it needs to – and could.

***

Many thanks to everyone who has followed this series of blogs, and for providing insights, feedback, and ideas! Are we ready for transformational change, and are we ourselves willing to change? I am not sure. Will I stay in this sector? I am not sure.

Living abroad during a pandemic

At a time when people in rich countries are dreaming of finally traveling abroad again, I reflect on how it feels to have been abroad throughout this pandemic.

(Nearly) always a foreigner

I have lived abroad (from my country of citizenship, Finland) for more than thirty of my 41 years of my life. But I still consider Finland my home country, with Finnish being my mother tongue, a scenery of an archipelago (islands scattered in the sea or lakes) being the most beautiful scene I can imagine, and saunas and cinnamon roles topping my list of luxury and bare necessity. I was raised by Finnish parents, with Finnish values – including a strong belief in gender equality.

Always (so far) one of the lucky ones

I’m one of the lucky people who have during the Covid19 pandemic and lockdowns been living in a country (Germany) with a strong health and social system, with universal health coverage and all health services (free at the point of use) I can imagine for myself and my children. As a Finnish citizen, I have been entitled to travel and return to Finland at any time.

I can’t even in normal times imagine what it must feel like to be stateless, or to live without a universal health insurance, in constant fear of not being able to access health care or to fall into poverty by paying for such care. I can’t begin to imagine how it feels during a deadly pandemic.

And I can’t imagine living and building a life somewhere, but being forced to return to your home country because you are forced to leave, or are simply unable to stay. I also can’t imagine what it feels like not to be welcomed back to your own country, or to be threatened with prison if you do try to return, as was the case in May 2021 when Australia banned its own citizens from returning from abroad.

I also can’t imagine how isolating this past year must have felt for many people, to be living in a foreign country, not fully immersed in the language or community, not understanding the workings of the bureaucratic system. I can’t imagine how it has felt not being able to “bubble” with your own family, or some close friends.

5 lessons I have learned

But I have also felt stranded, and have had more time to self-reflect on my foreignness in this cosmopolitan city of Berlin. Here are five lessons I have learned:

1. Norms and priorities differ – whereas Finland prioritised women and children, Germany failed them during the pandemic. Through friends, family, and the media, I have throughout the year compared what has been prioritised in Finland, and how this differs from Germany. For example, in Finland, daycare and schools were kept open, whereas in Germany they closed for nearly 9 months. The education and mental health or children in Germany has suffered immensely from these closures. And whereas working parents in Finland kept working (from home), in Germany nearly all women (who suffer from a larger pay gap and are in marriages taxed more heavily than men) struggled, with many having to give up their jobs, or shift to part-time or less ambitious roles (myself included). Norms and political priorities matter immensely.
2. Mother tongue and culture – regular docking is key. I have spoken Finnish with my four children since birth, and tried to teach them a bit about Finnish culture. Visiting Finland regularly, and spending time with family and friends there has been the most important docking experience for them: it’s not just mom who speaks this crazy language, and has these random rituals. We have also all used our language skills actively, and seen the culture in action. During the pandemic, my own language skills have deteriorated, as I have found myself enclosed only in my German bubble. And without family, friends and trips to Finland, my children haven’t had their regular docking experience, leaving them floating further away from this part of their identity. I have felt this too.
3. Where do I want to live my life, with whom? Many people have been asking this question over the past year, with an exodus from expensive, cramped and polluted cities. I have always felt like my home is in many places, and my friends and family are dispersed across the globe. But suddenly being stuck in one place has made me reflect: If I get stuck (and perhaps, when I get old…), is this really the place I want to be be in, and the people I want to be surrounded by? I don’t have an answer to this question, but I have started asking myself this question again. I’ve found myself obsessing about having my own sauna again.
4. The role of travel. Compared to many of my highly cosmopolitan friends, I probably spend less time traveling, also because I have four children at home. But a normal, pre-Covid19 year entailed several work trips, at least one or two vacations abroad (or back “home” to Finland), and short trips to visit friends. I have felt connected and at home because of these trips. But the pandemic has also made me reflect more on what I need to have and build around me, and the purpose of a network and community where I live. I have also tried to be more self-critical about my carbon footprint. If Covid19 keeps ravaging the globe because we are unable to change our own individual behaviour (and self-interest), what world are we creating and leaving behind with climate change? This is a dilemma for any foreigner wanting to return home regularly.
5. National politics matters – but is still closed to most foreigners and minorities. I’ve always been a political junkie (also having studied political sciences), and living in the US during Trump’s Presidency really hit home just how much national politics matters for my own and children’s life too. I’ve for years worked together with the German government, and done advocacy in Germany. But I’ve always been a foreigner, without the right passport for most positions, and with a slightly strange name. Here there’s still a long way to go in many countries, including Germany where immigrant candidates recently pulled back their candidacies due to racism and threats. It makes us foreigners realise just how foreign we are – and often poorly represented, or not welcome.

Vaccine Equity and the People‘s Vaccine – What will end the Covid19 pandemic, and what role must G7 and G20 play?

As the most powerful states and economies soon meet at the G7 and G20 summits (May and June G7 summits in the UK, and May G20 health summit in Italy), the world again faces a crossroad: will the Covid19 pandemic end, or continue to ravage the world and global economy? The situation currently looks bleak.

Table 1: Our World in Data – Vaccination status 15 Dec 2020 through 30 April 2021

As of 1 May, over 150 million people were confirmed to have been infected with Covid19, and over 3 million people have died (see Table 2 below). 1,13 billion vaccination doses have been administered, with 268 million people (only 3.4% of the global population) fully vaccinated.

Table 2: WHO Covid tracker as of 1 May 2021

What is clear, however, from nearly 6 months of vaccinations, is that vaccine equity is failing: countries with vaccines are vaccinating constantly larger shares of their populations – while those countries that started out without vaccines continue to go without (see Table 1 above).

“Vaccine equity is failing: Countries with vaccines are vaccinating constantly larger shares of their populations – while those countries that started out without vaccines continue to go without.”

Not only is the global commitment to vaccine equity (and the multilateral mechanism to deliver on this, COVAX) faltering due to insufficient donor funding and vaccine dose sharing. The world is also increasingly more vulnerable to new mutations of the Covid19 virus, as the virus continues to ravage most of the world, and populations in vaccinated countries start relaxing distancing, hygiene and travel rules.

G20 to the rescue?

In 2020, any hopes that the G20 would act collectively on vaccines to tackle Covid19 were hampered by then US President Trump’s declaration to “vaccinate America first”. But most of the other G20 economies also failed to finance the multilateral effort at the time.

In 2021, with another Covid19 and health G20 summit on its way, the US stance under President Biden has disappointingly (for all non-Americans) been to continue Trump’s strategy of “America first”. And although funding for COVAX has finally trickled through, the past months have made clear that most G20 countries will toe the line of not sharing vaccine doses with others before their own populations (including most likely youth and children) are vaccinated first. This is the case also for countries that have decided to divert planned vaccine production and exports through COVAX back to meet domestic demand, such as India.

As sharing vaccines with poorer countries through COVAX is faltering, more advocates and also multilateral institutions are calling for a people’s vaccine: opening up Covid19 vaccine production, through an IP and TRIPS waiver. Unsurprisingly, however, countries hosting current pharmaceutical companies (and their lobbyists) involved in Covid19 vaccines are against any sharing of patents, technologies or rights (see Table 3 below).

Table 3: MSF – TRIPS Waiver tracker

With such strong opposition to an IP and TRIPS waiver, a G20 decision (which must be unanimous) on a people’s vaccine currently looks unlikely. The situation looks bleak.

“A G20 decision on a people’s vaccine currently looks unlikely. The situation looks bleak.”

G7 to the rescue?

Just a few weeks before and after the G20 May meeting, the G7 foreign ministers and then health ministers shortly followed by heads of state will meet in the UK. Perhaps this sub-group of G20 members will finally act to support countries and vaccine equity globally, following an initial change in stance by the US to donate 60 million vaccine doses through COVAX, and France following suit with an announcement of 500,000 doses?

However, with the UK (host of the G7 and summit) just having announced cuts of 60% to most of its foreign aid programs, the summit is highly unlikely to result in more than symbolic announcements.

This is not to say that announcements in the millions do not save lives. But such G7 announcements are a mere drop on a fire and pandemic ravaging the world, and will not make a difference to billions of people. Millions of lives will continue to be needlessly lost. The Covid19 pandemic will not end.

“G7 announcements are a mere drop on a fire… Millions of lives will continue to be needlessly lost. The Covid19 pandemic will not end.”

What needs to change?

Over a year into the pandemic, G7 and G20 members continue to be reluctant to end the global pandemic. They are making self-interested, short-term choices that create the illusion that by vaccinating all of their own citizens first, freedoms can be reattained, and economies reopened.

However, as Covid19 continues to ravage most of the world, it also continues mutate. The vaccines of today may not protect against the mutations of tomorrow.

The only way to protect all citizens is by ensuring that all people, worldwide, are vaccinated. This is the only way to end the Covid19 pandemic. Not in 2025, not in 2030 – or even later if vaccines fail to protect against future mutations – but in the next years.

G20 and G7 members must ensure that:

• Vaccine equity becomes a reality immediately: Those at highest risk of having complications, needing care, and infecting others, must be vaccinated first – in all countries simultaneously and before the end of 2021, as agreed in the global prioritisation plan. For this purpose, once 20% of a population has been vaccinated, surplus vaccine doses must be shared via COVAX until all countries have vaccinated 20% of their populations. G7 members must in addition increase their financing already in 2021 to fully fund this global effort through COVAX.
• A people’s vaccine becomes a reality: To reach herd immunity globally and in all countries (ca. 70% vaccine coverage), an IP and TRIPS Waiver is needed to ensure that production of vaccines can be scaled to meet global demand (and ability to finance this demand at affordable prices).

Being a parent during a pandemic

Life is not easy for anyone during this Covid19 pandemic. We’re all struggling with fears, living with restrictions, missing social contacts, and have little change to look forward to.

The double burden

As a parent, we face and try to manage these challenges not only in our own lives, but also feel responsible for the safety, health and well-being of our children.

For working parents, we’re in addition juggling all of this while trying to do our jobs, many while children are at home during lockdown – some with a few hours of online schooling or daycare, others left with a pile of printouts or without.

Our normal caretaking and support structures for our children have dissolved. Daycare, school, hobbies, camps, babysitters, playdates, time with friends, days or weekends with relatives or grandparents – all not possible.

The long days – month after months – and the logistics of life with children, often feel like a burden. We’re not just parents anymore, but also teachers, tutors, therapists, time managers, cooks, cleaners, shoppers, and even try to act as surrogate playdates or friends to our children. We’re drained at the end of the day and work week, even more so than usual. The weekend brings little change or respite.

A year into the pandemic, we’re also tired of trying to provide stability, normalcy and hope. Just as we ourselves have been naive about how long these restrictions would impact our lives, we’ve again and again let down our children with our hopes that an end to this pandemic is in sight and imminent.

We’re also struggling to explain why much of the world has gone haywire, and protect our children from this madness. Why do some people deliberately want to put others – including people we love – at risk? Why is there so much hate and even incitement of violence? Why does the future for our children look so bleak, and when will this limbo state end and their future (re)start?

The joy

On the other hand, we’re blessed to have so much time with our children. Our workplaces, travels, school, hobbies, shopping and entertainment culture, as well as social lives outside of the family are not constantly pulling us in different directions.

We’re in many ways forced to get creative, and think of small, mundane activities that we can do together, or support our children with. We can take joy in the creativity that is unleashed in our children, watching them come up with projects and ideas.

We have more time to talk, cuddle, and get to know each other – both strengths and weaknesses. We as working parents can explain why our work matters, but why listening to our work calls makes it sound absurd. We can try to learn to share the household burden, and take time to teach our children life skills such as cooking, cleaning and laundry.

We’re blessed not to be alone, but to have each other.

Things fall apart

For many parents, it’s immensely difficult during this pandemic to focus on these joys, or find the time, energy, or ability to do so. Many parents are struggling with their own health, mental health, simultaneously taking care of their own elderly parents, and facing constant existential and economic challenges.

Many working parents are utterly overwhelmed and at the end of their wits and energy at the end of the day, having failed to perform in their full-time jobs or during critical meetings, and having parked their children for another nine hours in front of Netflix or Instagram.

The exponential rise in mental health problems in both adults and children is testament to these realities that many families face, as are increasing rates of domestic violence and abuse.

Learning from adversity

As a mother of four children, many of the above generalisations are a daily reality in my personal life. I feel the strain, burden, fears, boredom, restrictions, and responsibility. Many aspects of our life feel like they are falling apart, and we’re constantly running to stick things back together.

But I’m also very privileged to be able to experience the joys, and create space for these joys. My family and I are extremely privileged to be living in a country with a sane political leadership and strong, universal health system. We do not face economic threats or hardship, and have two parents who share the burden of caretaking and household work. We have caring families and friends, even if they are far away. Our school provides fairly reliable online schooling for our school-aged children. We have been able to restructure our work in a way that works with our family needs. And we have been able to get external and emergency help and support when we or our children have needed it.

If anything, this pandemic has been the best – if harshest – lesson I have ever had in my nearly 15 years of being a parent. It has forced me to reprioritise many issues, and also make some difficult decisions. It has forced me to rethink my own role and responsibilities as a parent, and again evaluate how our political, health and education system works. It has shown me what is essential, and where systemic gaps in the above systems have failed our family, and my children. The pandemic has also through these experience hammered home just how daunting, challenging – and at times impossible – this task is for many families, parents and children who do not live with the privileges that I have. This pandemic has forced me to question my mindset, and attitude towards challenges – including how I live these out and portray these in my role as a parent.

Less taboos

Several of my colleagues who are working parents regularly make (also public) references to similar challenges, but also joys. As with work-life-balance issues, this focus on what it means to be a (working) parent – especially during this pandemic – humanises our life and work, and the people who make things happen. It also makes all of us facing this situation feel less alone, and allows us to share lessons. The pandemic is a good time to break more taboos and silos between the “professional” and “personal”.

Communication is King (or Queen) – Especially during a pandemic

A qualifier up-front: I am not a communications specialist, I’m a political scientist. But I’ve had the privilege to work closely with some of the best communication specialists over 15 years. I value their work and expertise deeply, and have learned a lot. One lesson has been: no matter what a great leader, technical expert, or advocate you are – if your communication is poor, no-one will listen to you. Communication is King (or Queen).

You do of course have to have some substance too. People are not stupid. If you spin, they’ll fairly quickly see the spin. If you bluff, they’ll call you on your bluff. If you make up fairy tales, you’ll be viewed as a great fiction writer. If you want to communicate facts, trust is key.

During an epidemic outbreak – or pandemic that cuts across borders or even the entire globe – communication is critical. Decision-makers need to be informed about facts, and potential scenarios. Decision-makers need to agree with each other on policies, and inform the general public. When every person’s behaviour matters, such as in Covid19, people need to be convinced by credible facts.

Epidemics move fast, as Covid19 shows us. There’s little time to find out facts, agree on them, and communicate clearly about them. A lot of facts are still unknown, and there are different scenarios and policy options. The situation is tense – as every second is literally a matter of life-and-death, and can lead to social, economic and political distress and turmoil. The virus itself has the potential to mutate, and has a different degree of impact, depending on the context (e.g. proximity of people, strength of health system).

As facts are being shared, and decisions are being discussed and made (and changed), communicators face the challenge of being pressured to change messages. What we are seeing as a consequence is: “Focus on the old and vulnerable!” suddenly becomes “Focus on the youth!”. “Test, test, test to find positive cases!” becomes “Don’t focus on testing, focus on treatment!”. “Don’t wear masks, wash your hands!” becomes “Wear masks!”. The result: an absolutely confused general public, which cannot keep up with the pivots in message – and the important guidance to change behaviours. The worst case: people stop listening.

I’m not saying that communication should not change. If facts change, or there are new facts that inform decisions differently, decision makers need to explain clearly why they have changed their guidance and course of action. What are the new facts that were so convincing, and how will changing actions change the course of the pandemic, and save lives? Admitting to not having had the full picture, or all facts, previously, is important. But so is staying course once a new course has been taken. The worst situation is to appear to be Trying A, then pivoting to Trying Z, and maybe Trying Some X later. Will the general public be convinced? Will they listen? Will they follow? Unlikely.

Humility cannot be underestimated in these times. People look towards confident leaders in these times (ultimately, our lives may depend on their decisions). But communicating confidence without facts, or distorting facts – or worst of all: abusing facts – ultimately undermines confidence. We’re back at spin, fairy tales, and – what we are seeing in some countries such as Hungary – authoritarianism. Ultimately, there is no trust left. And the communication has nothing to do with the substance of a pandemic anymore, it has become communication in the context of a pandemic.

Communication specialists will be able to provide great guidance on Do’s and Don’ts, but from my experience as a global health advocate, here are a few pointers that I think will be key to successful communication – and action – during Covid19:

1. Communicate facts transparently. People are not stupid. Say what you know. State what you don’t yet know. When things change, inform the public.
2. Communicate consistently. Don’t pivot wildly. Pivoting messaging is your wild card, for crisis situations when you have evidence that your course of action was incorrect, and you need to change course. You will not be able to pivot several times. Repeat 1 if you are forced to pivot.
3. Agree on your source of expertise. Not everyone is a Covid19 expert, nor a public health expert. Not everyone is a policy expert. Thankfully, we have some experts who have done nothing else over decades. Who has the facts? Who has experience in handling epidemic outbreaks? Your communication should be based on this, not what seems to be great new ideas by someone fully new to the field. It’s good to stay open to other ideas, but trust your specialists. They are specialists for a reason.
4. Align. Align. Align. People hear multiple sources of information. They seek multiple sources. They share different sources with each other. The more aligned our communication is, the more successful we are in convincing people. If you decide your experts are irrelevant and you know better, communications will be fully misaligned and the result will be mayhem.
5. Understand your audience. Communication specialists are specialists for a reason: they know how to build a bridge from your expertise and decision to an audience, and get that audience to listen and understand. You need to communicate very differently to elderly people who are not familiar with social media, social media Millennials, or small kindergarden children.

Thankfully, we have some brilliant communicators out there during Covid19. They are truly shining, and working day and night (over months on end) to share facts and guidance proactively, packaged in a way that is clear and convinces us. They are clear and consistent, but humble. And together with health workers and other people who are essential to keeping our society safe and running, they are proving to be the Kings (and Queens!) of this crisis. Science journalists, media and communication specialists, social media managers, and creative content producers. Chapeau. I hope that all decision makers are listening to their advice, because they know what they are doing.

Transition during a Pandemic and Shutdown

There are quite a few of us who were caught off guard by the Covid19 / coronavirus pandemic during our work transition periods or sabbaticals. So far, I have tried to take this with humour.

All those travel plans, hours for reflection, meeting friends and new people — suddenly constrained within my four walls only.

I’ve been questioning whether 9-to-5 office presence and eternal internal meetings around a conference table make sense — temporarily abolished for nearly the entire office working population.

I’ve been wondering about the purpose and impact of our endless hours at work — nearly everyone’s job has suddenly been listed ‘non-critical’.

I’ve been fretting about internal politics and toxic environments that spread pointless stress — all distant.

Slightly more seriously, reflection, bonding, broadening horizons, and even meaningful work, is all possible within the confines of your home. There are millions of people who do this every day, toiling away in the household, unrecognized and definitely not celebrated, and often pitifully if at all paid. Maybe this period of shutdown can help us recognize the value and burden these people carry.

And even more seriously, this is a terrifying period for many people who are worried about making ends meet. In countries with solid social security systems and social protection, most of us are covered no matter what our employment status, even during a pandemic. Government regulation is quickly put in place to ensure that people can afford their food, rent, and continue to (where a personal cost) pay for their children’s education or childcare. But even in these countries, many entrepreneurs, freelancers, etc are wondering what will become of their incomes and businesses.

In countries without social security or protection, people may lose not only their incomes, but also their homes and funds to make ends meet. If they are not working, they may have no health insurance coverage – or where too costly and voluntary, have never had one to start with. A transition period or sabbatical may prove to be just as scary, if this is not built upon solid savings or secure employment contracts for the future.

For those of us who are voluntarily transitioning or in a sabbatical, and do not have to worry about existential issues, we should remember what a luxury situation we are in. We can continue to reflect and learn – we just need to do so slightly differently than originally planned.

And perhaps – this is my great wish – those people who have not thought about how to engage in support of their communities or people who are not as lucky and well-off in the world, can use this period to think about what they can contribute. Rather than spend time and money shopping for an expensive sofa, or the post-Covid19 luxury get-away.