It’s past time to defend our neighbors in public health

In public health, we have a saying that underscores the invisible impact of the work: “When prevention works, absolutely nothing happens.”

Everyday, you experience the quiet magic of public health. You may drive in your car with confidence in the safety features in case of an accident. You may drink from your tap and never worry about contracting a deadly diarrheal disease like cholera. You may walk outside and breathe clean air without checking a smog index. You may send your children to school and expect they’ll return without spreading a life-threatening illness. Many of the gains in life expectancy and quality of life that we have seen in the past century can be attributed to public health programs and innovations. 

When public health works, the world feels safe enough for the ordinary to stay ordinary. This is why I was drawn to work in public health through my graduate studies at Emory University and work-study job next door at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the national hub for this field. I wanted to be part of the team that worked so hard to make it seem as though “nothing” was happening. 

Everyday, I badged through the front gates of CDC, checked in with the friendly security officers, and walked into my job at the Environmental Safety and Health Compliance Office. The very same route that an armed gunman took on Aug. 8th, except his intention was to harm and destroy. Everyday, I worked with extremely dedicated public health professionals who came from a wide variety of backgrounds: some with academic appointments at schools and universities; some with military backgrounds as members of the U.S. Public Health Service or Department of Veterans Affairs; others who dedicated their lives to public service, meticulously managed data and security protocols, and helped communities be healthy. They all shared a common purpose: protecting people from harm and keeping our nation safe from disease. 

They were behind the most important life-saving discoveries and breakthroughs in vaccine development, cancer research, and HIV treatment. They made possible the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the food we trust. While I have since transitioned my career away from institutional public health to a health tech start-up, where I still live in Atlanta, we are lucky that many of our neighbors know about or know these dedicated people who work at or with CDC and other public health organizations. These people have now been violently attacked in the same places where they are committed to keeping us safe. Along with that, the normalcy of health, safety, and protection that this field has provided for us in this country is under serious threat. 

Public health professionals don’t brag. Because the people who dedicate their life to public health are drawn to the invisible service of prevention, they are not overly accustomed to broadcasting achievements or loudly proclaiming victories. They like to let the science and the results speak for themselves — after all, when was the last time you heard a public health official boast that they eradicated a deadly disease that used to claim hundreds of millions of lives? And, just a few decades ago, diseases like polio and measles that took the lives and livelihoods of countless children were finally considered erased from the risks our nation faced. With the dismantling of public health, we are now reversing that progress and will surely continue to see outbreaks and resurgence of deadly (and preventable) viral and foodborne diseases.

Lately, however, this intrinsic humility has made the public health field vulnerable to criticism from disingenuous actors who push anti-science ideals. This has become especially dangerous now that people who hold those views wield the highest offices of power. After years of antagonistic language and disinformation about public health scientists and credible peer-reviewed science; and after months of cuts to critical evidence-based programs that protect people from disease and save lives; and after weeks of learning about the dissolution of expert panels and advisory committees who provide trusted recommendations and decisions touching every single person who uses healthcare in this country, the violent consequences of the invisibility of public health have arrived in the hands of a disillusioned gunman who murdered Officer David Rose and fired 180 bullets while targeting public health workers at the CDC. 

I see this challenge of invisibility in my own work today researching social prescribing and how to combat loneliness and social isolation, a growing public health crisis linked to depression, heart disease, and early death. The programs I work on don’t always make headlines, but they change lives: a teenager struggling to make friends finding connection through a painting class, a senior regaining purpose after the loss of a loved one through a community choir. These are prevention stories, too, and like clean water or vaccines, their value is clearest when you imagine what happens in their absence. Social isolation can perpetuate the same distrust that leads some to take up violent arms against members of their community. But, together, we can combat messages that tell people not to trust and not to care about their neighbors. In our communities, we can tell the stories about science, prevention, and the people who make “nothing” happen until everyone knows exactly what is at stake. 

In the weeks that have passed since the violent attack on CDC, not a single federal official has spoken publicly condemning this action or defending our nation’s public health workforce. In fact, the firing and resignations of top CDC leadership on August 27th is a clear signal that those in power will continue this assault on science by any means necessary. We cannot let these attacks on public health go unanswered. Because the people behind public health are not used to bragging about how important they are, it is on us — their neighbors, colleagues, friends, family, and allies — to tell their stories. 

Because the people in power are deafeningly silent in this critical moment, it is time for us to loudly and unequivocally defend the work of the public health professionals who quietly protect us and demand that our health and safety be prioritized and protected. Here in Atlanta, we know the value that our neighbors bring and the invaluable contribution that science makes to our lives every single day. We must be louder than those who seek to discredit, disinform, and disparage. We must defend our public health neighbors and speak up for the science that saves our lives every day.