What would Jonas Salk say in RFK Jr.’s America? A vaccine legacy reimagined

Picture this: It’s the 1950s. Polio is terrifying families across the globe. Kids are getting paralyzed, hospitals are overflowing, and playgrounds feel like danger zones. Enter Jonas Salk—a quiet, brilliant guy with a game-changing idea: a vaccine that could stop polio in its tracks.

And when he finally succeeds? He gives it away. No patent, no billion-dollar payout. When asked why, he famously replied, “Could you patent the sun?”That was the mindset back then—science was about saving lives, not making money. Fast forward to today, and it feels like we’ve entered a different universe.The COVID-19 pandemic hit, and science scrambled—again—for answers. Vaccines were developed faster than ever before.

But instead of a global celebration, what followed was a storm of skepticism, conspiracy theories, and a whole lot of noise. And right in the middle of it all? Robert F. Kennedy Jr.Once known for his environmental activism, RFK Jr. is now one of the loudest anti-vaccine voices in America. During the height of the pandemic, his social media feed became a firehose of vaccine misinformation. In fact, one study found that a small group of “superspreaders”—including Kennedy—was responsible for most of the vaccine lies circulating online in 2021.

Think about that. A few loud voices managed to drown out an entire global scientific effort.It makes you wonder: What would Jonas Salk say about all this?How did we get here—from a time when people lined up for vaccines to now, where some folks would rather take horse dewormer than trust a doctor?The roots go deep. Back in the '90s, a fraudulent study claimed vaccines caused autism—and even though it was debunked and retracted, the damage was done.

That lie planted a seed of fear that’s only grown thanks to social media, which tends to reward loud opinions more than accurate ones. Platforms like X (formerly Twitter) gave Kennedy Jr. a megaphone—and people listened.Salk would probably be heartbroken. A man who believed in science as a tool for the common good would have a hard time wrapping his head around today’s landscape, where personal beliefs often outweigh scientific facts, and public health becomes a political battleground.But he might also see a glimmer of hope. Because polio didn’t disappear thanks to one guy—it was millions of parents, nurses, teachers, scientists, and everyday people who got on board and made it happen. That same spirit still exists. We see it in healthcare workers, in vaccine advocates, in communities pushing back against misinformation with facts and empathy.Maybe Salk would remind us that this isn’t just about shots in arms.

It’s about trust. About choosing to believe in something bigger than yourself. About remembering that public health means everyone’s health—not just yours.So as we stand in this weird, chaotic moment in history, we’ve got a choice to make. Do we let misinformation win? Or do we fight for facts, for science, and for the idea that saving lives is still something worth believing in?Because the question isn’t just “What would Jonas Salk say?”The real question is: What do we want our legacy to be?