hankyoreh

South Korean President Moon Jae-in sips on tea during a meeting with key government officials at the Blue House on Dec. 22. (Blue House photo pool)

For several days now, the Blue House has been responding testily to criticism that it was too slow to secure supplies of COVID-19 vaccines. On Dec. 22, Blue House officials released a document detailing how South Korean President Moon Jae-in had given instructions to develop and secure a supply of vaccines and treatments no fewer than 13 times since April. And then on Dec. 23, they publicly refuted media reports claiming that the Blue House had taken a hands-off approach with the vaccine task force.

Even considering that some criticism has been excessive and some claims have been incorrect, the Blue House’s response probably won’t be enough to ease public concerns. In the end, the crux of the problem is that Koreans don’t have access to a vaccine yet, while people in other countries do. So where and how did things go wrong?

The government has repeatedly emphasized the difficulties of negotiating for vaccine supplies. Seoul balked at a contractual condition demanded by multinational pharmaceutical firms Pfizer and Moderna, who refused to take responsibility for any side effects of their vaccines, or even for failure to develop a successful vaccine.

Since vaccine developers hold all the cards, countries that want to buy vaccines in advance have no choice but to accept premium prices. But the Korean government said it didn’t have the budget or legal authority to take such an aggressive decision with such a high degree of uncertainty.

“Without legal authority or funding, this was ultimately a situation in which the Blue House ought to have taken charge,” said a source in the ruling Democratic Party. In other words, the Blue House should have recognized these institutional limitations and made the strategic decision to pursue the vaccine, regardless of the uncertainty.

When government ministries are reluctant to act because of the potential consequences, in the end the Blue House is the only institution that can take final responsibility for coordinating a program.

Another reason the government’s dawdling is so disappointing is that experts had been warning about the possibility of a resurgence of COVID-19 this winter and that they’d argued a vaccine would be a game changer.

South Korean President Moon Jae-in speaks at SK Bioscience in October. (provided by the Blue House)

Sources in the Democratic Party say the government had encouraged the development of a domestic treatment for COVID-19 while emphasizing disease control measures such as social distancing. The government believed that the emergence of an effective treatment routine would mitigate the damage of the pandemic.

“The development of this treatment is showing quick results. Celltrion is simultaneously holding Phase 2 and Phase 3 clinical trials of its antibody treatment, while the convalescent plasma treatment developed by GC Pharma has entered Phase 2. We hope these treatments can be commercialized for use in treating patients before the end of the year,” Moon said during a visit to SK Bioscience this past October.

In effect, Moon had high hopes both for the Korean government’s approach to containing COVID-19, which it has sought to brand as “K-quarantine.” The government had also sketched a vision of the Korean biotechnology industry producing a homegrown treatment that Korea could then export overseas in large volumes.

But public health experts believe that vaccines are much more effective than treatments at ending an infectious disease. “Vaccines are a preventative measure, but treatments are used for patients who are already infected. So [even with an effective treatment], you’re still incurring social costs such as keeping medical staff busy and taking up hospital beds,” said an expert in public health policy for the Democratic Party.

In other words, the government ought to have given more definite priority to acquiring vaccines with the goal of stopping the spread of COVID-19 and easing the pain of social distancing.