Opinion: I’m a public health communications consultant. Pro-vaccine advocacy needs more fun
On April 12, 1955, America threw a vaccine party when Thomas Francis Jr., who had overseen trials of polio vaccines developed by Jonas Salk, announced the results. It was more than a press conference: reporters packed the room, tens of thousands of physicians gathered in movie theaters to hear the broadcast, and millions of Americans huddled around their radios. The verdict was that the vaccine worked, and a disease that had devastated families for decades had finally met its match. A documentary described the reaction: "Factory whistles blew, school children cheered, parents wept." Newspapers ran headlines like "POLIO IS CONQUERED" across their front pages, store owners wrote "Thank you, Dr. Salk" messages on their windows, and Salk took the stage to a prolonged standing ovation on his way to becoming a living legend.
Fast forward 71 years, to 2026. On Sept. 2, major medical societies released an independent research evaluation covering flu, Covid-19, and RSV shots. There was another press conference, and more good news: these vaccines are still safe and continue to provide strong protection against death and severe illness. But this was no event. Experts talked about "informed decisions" and "shared commitment" and "restoring trust." The American Medical Association launched a new website with JAMA articles and PDF charts, but no real people or stories. The tone was somber, the mood dour. So much for a party.
As a communications consultant who has spent years supporting vaccine advocates, the author says every conversation right now feels bleak. Measles has come roaring back, vaccination rates keep dropping, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is a wreck, and Robert F. Kennedy Jr., described as the ringleader of the country's vaccine critics, is somehow still in charge of the Department of Health and Human Services. For the pro-vaccine side, this is excruciating: they spend their days debunking and fact-checking, debate repeatedly whether to confront wellness influencers or engage them, and search endlessly for just the right analogy or metaphor to reach the hesitant parent. They take vaccines very seriously—as they should, since it's a matter of life and death.
Somewhere along the way, though, the author argues, the pro-vaccine side forgot how to celebrate. It is sorely lacking in optimism and excitement, with no sense of togetherness or belonging, and advocates have gotten wound up so tightly that there is no joy in what they are doing. They need to remember how to have fun again. As a contrast, the author points to Children's Health Defense, the organization Kennedy previously led, calling it deceitful and dangerous but noting it knows how to build a movement: it fights for "health freedom," its volunteers are "defenders" who join an "army of truth," it holds banners and makes street signs, hosts book clubs and movie screenings, sells merch, and encourages people to "grab a couple friends" on the first Saturday of every month and go around.