When cardiologist Jean-Jacques Monsuez, 66, took an arm out of his blue and white plaid shirt and offered it to a nurse holding a syringe filled with the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine, he was doing what many in the world plan to do. do as soon as they get the chance.
Just not in France.
This may be the land of Louis Pasteur, the scientist known for discovering the principles of vaccination. But it is also one of the most reluctant nations in the world to obtain the COVID-19 injection, leading to the least acceptance yet of any developed country to begin vaccinating its citizens.
In the first six days after the vaccine was launched on December 27 across Europe, in a coordinated EU effort, only 516 people received vaccines in France – so low in a population of 67 million that it is statistically indistinguishable from zero. In contrast, Germany vaccinated more than 200,000 of its residents in the first week and Italy more than 100,000.
For Monsuez, the decision to get the injection was obvious, both for his own safety and for his family and patients.
“There is a duty. You see one patient after another, “he said, adding,” It didn’t hurt. I felt the same before and after. “
But many of his countrymen do not seem to agree. In a survey conducted last month by Ipsos Global Advisor, in conjunction with the World Economic Forum, only 40% of French residents said they intended to be vaccinated. This placed France at the bottom of the 15 nations surveyed, in stark contrast to countries like Britain and the United States, where 77% and 69% of respondents, respectively, are eager to be vaccinated.
Gallic hesitation arises from several factors. Many here cite concerns about potential side effects and the speed with which vaccines were developed. Mistrust of the government has grown after a few missteps in treating the pandemic and memories of previous health scandals and vaccines in France.
A complicated consent process has hindered the vaccination campaign in some cases. And prominent health professionals complained about the lack of a clear official strategy for launching vaccines and convincing people of their value and effectiveness.
Over the weekend, President Emmanuel Macron – who survived his own struggle with COVID-19 – promised that the rate of vaccination would increase “quickly and powerfully” and the authorities added health professionals over 50 to the list of eligible for the injection.
Anne Muraro, an art consultant, is in no hurry to get in line. “We don’t know the side effects,” said Muraro, 50. “It is very fast. There is not enough retrospective view. “
Muraro cited the new messenger RNA technology in the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine as a cause for discomfort. The same technology is also used in the Modern COVID-19 vaccine, which has not yet been authorized for use in Europe. Many in France fear that the vaccine has hit the market in part for the financial benefit of the big pharmaceutical companies.
While these qualms may be understandable, given the relatively short time the vaccine has been in circulation, they do not reflect the medical community’s understanding of the vaccine’s development and approval, said Catherine Hill, a retired epidemiologist in Paris. And the seriousness of the public health emergency that France faces requires people to prepare for COVID-19 injections, she said.
The country is one of the hardest hit in Europe, with 2.7 million confirmed cases of coronavirus and 65,164 deaths, according to a count by Johns Hopkins University. After two complete blocks, residents are under curfew, and bars, restaurants and cultural attractions remain closed. The authorities promised to ease these restrictions as soon as the number of new cases drops below 5,000 a day, a goal that still seems a long way off.
“This virus kills 400 people a day in France,” said Hill. “Imagine a big plane falling from the sky every day.”
In a television interview over the weekend, French Health Minister Olivier Veran defended the slow pace of vaccinations and said France would reach its European neighbors by the end of the month.
Veran’s management of the coronavirus crisis inspired some suspicion among his compatriots. At first, he said the masks were “unnecessary” for the general public. Since then, wearing masks has become mandatory, and many in France believe that their initial advice against it arose from a shortage of supplies that the government did not want to exacerbate, rather than a sound health policy.
As for vaccines, a spokeswoman for the health department said it “would not be helpful” to start a public information campaign now because the majority in France will not be eligible for an injection until spring, after priority is given to residents in nursing homes and frontline health professionals.
French Health Minister Olivier Veran, on the left, speaks to a woman when she arrives to see the vaccination of health professionals at the Hotel Dieu hospital in Paris on Monday.
(Martin Bureau / AFP / Getty Images)
The country’s recent history with new vaccines has generated some public skepticism. In late 2009, the French government ordered excessive doses of the H1N1 flu vaccine, for which there was little demand, leading to accusations of financial mismanagement.
More pertinently, there were concerns that the hepatitis B vaccine administered in France in the 1990s was linked to an increase in multiple sclerosis. Several studies have examined the link, with varying conclusions. In 2002, the World Health Organization stated that, “despite a slightly high odds ratio observed in the initial studies, none showed a statistically significantly high risk”. Many here remain unconvinced.
Edvart Vignot’s sister developed multiple sclerosis after receiving the hepatitis B vaccine, which is partly why he prefers to wait and see what side effects the COVID-19 vaccine can have before allowing someone to stick a needle in his arm. Vignot, who is a partner of Muraro, also wants to hear what scientists have to say that are not linked to governments or pharmaceutical companies.
“We need other people,” he said, “independent experts.”
Another important factor is to win over family doctors and pharmacists, in which the French count a lot for advice. Eliette Gauthier, who lives in a suburb of Bordeaux, said she is still unsure whether she will be vaccinated, mainly because her doctor has told her that she still does not have enough information to advise her in one way or another.
“We don’t have enough information about the composition” of the photos, said the 71-year-old retired teacher. “I will see what my doctor advises.”
France’s vaccination campaign was further mired in a complex consent process that required pre-vaccination consultations with patients to ensure their consent. As the campaign currently targets elderly people in nursing homes, some of whom suffer from cognitive problems, the process has been particularly laborious.
Meanwhile, Muraro and Vignot are taking other preventive measures, such as observing social detachment, wearing masks and taking vitamin D, which some experts believe helps to prevent infections. The couple long ago gave up shaking hands or greeting friends with kisses on the cheek, as was the French habit until the beginning of the pandemic.
And the two have already had the coronavirus, which leads them to believe that they probably have some level of immunity for now.
Muraro said he would get the vaccine again in the fall, when he is likely to be eligible and when the risk of transmission is likely to increase as the colder climate encourages people to move indoors.
Frederic Adnet, head of emergency medicine at Avicenne Hospital, in the northern suburbs of Paris, believes that most people in France are like Muraro and Vignot: not refusing to get the vaccine, but taking a wait and see approach.
“When they see that it is effective and safe, opinions will change,” said Adnet, adding that high vaccination rates in the United States and the United Kingdom should help boost public confidence here. “I think the French are reasonable and in two months, you will see that we are all shouting that there is not enough vaccine.”
El-Faizy is a special correspondent.