An international organization that refuses to examine its own mistakes while demanding that the world continue to trust it is itself a global security risk. The collapse of trust the WHO is currently facing did not begin with the US’ withdrawal — it is the inevitable outcome of long-standing institutional dysfunction and moral evasion.
The core issue is not whether the US should have withdrawn, but whether the WHO is willing to honestly confront three fundamental problems — allowing politics to override expertise, the absence of accountability mechanisms and a collective amnesia regarding critical errors.
Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, Taiwan alerted the international community to potential epidemic risks. During the pandemic, Taiwan’s performance in border control, the speed of its epidemiological investigations and information transparency was widely regarded by experts in many countries as exemplary. Yet, the WHO continued to exclude Taiwan from its system, even denying it the most basic observer status.
This is not merely a diplomatic dispute, it is a betrayal of public health professionalism. When an international organization — to pander to certain political powers — deliberately disregards a highly capable disease prevention system, the party that suffers is not just Taiwan, but the integrity of the global pandemic prevention network itself.
In the early stages of the pandemic, the WHO relied heavily on statements from China, which lacked independent verification and scrutiny. In the aftermath, it failed to clarify responsibility for delayed reporting and erroneous decisionmaking. As a result, the entire world missed a critical window for virus containment and paid an enormous price in human lives and economic losses. However, the WHO’s response to this was to look forward rather than look inward. Without accountability, institutional growth is impossible.
On the first day of US President Donald Trump’s second term, the US announced its intent to withdraw from the WHO. Although this appeared to be a political shock on the surface, it was actually an institutional warning sign — a major contributor was no longer willing to unconditionally bankroll a dysfunctional organization. The US had long shouldered nearly one-fifth of the WHO’s budget, yet it remained unable to push through even the most basic reforms — a clear indication that the WHO’s governance structure has become excessively rigid.
Many public health advocates worry that the US’ withdrawal would weaken global pandemic coordination. Such concerns are not unfounded, but the real question is not whether the world needs the WHO — it is whether the WHO is worth preserving in its current form. An organization that rejects reform, allows political interference to override expert judgement and evades responsibility cannot safeguard public security — even if it is well-funded.
The real solution is not emotional appeals, but systemic reconstruction — placing professional expertise at the organization’s core, eliminating political interference, incorporating highly capable partners such as Taiwan and establishing clear, accountable mechanisms for decisionmaking and review. Otherwise, it can only be said that the WHO’s crisis is not the result of external forces, but a consequence of its own choices.
A WHO that dares not hold China accountable while continuing to exclude Taiwan has no right to ask that the rest of the world continue funding its dysfunction.
Hsiao Hsi-huei is a freelance writer.
Translated by Kyra Gustavsen
Taiwan’s higher education system is facing an existential crisis. As the demographic drop-off continues to empty classrooms, universities across the island are locked in a desperate battle for survival, international student recruitment and crucial Ministry of Education funding. To win this battle, institutions have turned to what seems like an objective measure of quality: global university rankings. Unfortunately, this chase is a costly illusion, and taxpayers are footing the bill. In the past few years, the goalposts have shifted from pure research output to “sustainability” and “societal impact,” largely driven by commercial metrics such as the UK-based Times Higher Education (THE) Impact
History might remember 2026, not 2022, as the year artificial intelligence (AI) truly changed everything. ChatGPT’s launch was a product moment. What is happening now is an anthropological moment: AI is no longer merely answering questions. It is now taking initiative and learning from others to get things done, behaving less like software and more like a colleague. The economic consequence is the rise of the one-person company — a structure anticipated in the 2024 book The Choices Amid Great Changes, which I coauthored. The real target of AI is not labor. It is hierarchy. When AI sharply reduces the cost
The inter-Korean relationship, long defined by national division, offers the clearest mirror within East Asia for cross-strait relations. Yet even there, reunification language is breaking down. The South Korean government disclosed on Wednesday last week that North Korea’s constitutional revision in March had deleted references to reunification and added a territorial clause defining its border with South Korea. South Korea is also seriously debating whether national reunification with North Korea is still necessary. On April 27, South Korean President Lee Jae-myung marked the eighth anniversary of the Panmunjom Declaration, the 2018 inter-Korean agreement in which the two Koreas pledged to
I wrote this before US President Donald Trump embarked on his uneventful state visit to China on Thursday. So, I shall confine my observations to the joint US-Philippine military exercise of April 20 through May 8, known collectively as “Balikatan 2026.” This year’s Balikatan was notable for its “firsts.” First, it was conducted primarily with Taiwan in mind, not the Philippines or even the South China Sea. It also showed that in the Pacific, America’s alliance network is still robust. Allies are enthusiastic about America’s renewed leadership in the region. Nine decades ago, in 1936, America had neither military strength