In the global scramble to prepare for the next pandemic, Africa may be sitting on one of the world’s most valuable resources, yet one it scarcely controls.
From Ebola outbreaks in West Africa to COVID-19 and the recent spread of Mpox, the continent has become central to global health security.
However, beyond the immediate public health response lies a more complex and less visible economy—one driven by pathogens, data and the science built around them.
Increasingly, experts warn that Africa risks repeating an old pattern of exporting raw materials while others capture the value.
This trend mirrors longstanding dynamics in oil, minerals and agricultural commodities.
At the centre of this concern is the Pathogen Access and Benefit-Sharing (PABS) system, developed by the World Health Organisation under the 2025 Pandemic Agreement.
The framework is designed to ensure that countries sharing pathogen samples receive equitable benefits from vaccines, treatments and diagnostics developed from them.
On paper, it promises fairness; in practice, doubts persist.
Renowned virologist, Prof. Oyewale Tomori, warns that without deliberate safeguards, the framework risks becoming what he describes as “Pathogen Access and Benefit-Shortchange.”
“The issue is not just sharing pathogens,” he argues. “It is about who controls the knowledge, the technology and, ultimately, the profits that come from them.”
Africa currently produces less than one per cent of the vaccines it consumes, a gap that underscores its dependence on external systems and reinforces concerns about its limited role in the global health value chain.
Biological samples collected during disease outbreaks are essential for developing vaccines and diagnostics. At the same time, large datasets generated from surveillance systems are now valuable in powering artificial intelligence models, drug discovery and public health planning.
Yet, much of this analysis and innovation takes place outside the continent.
“Africa provides the inputs but lacks the infrastructure to convert them into value. That imbalance is where the real concern lies,” a health economist, Dr. Abigail Banji, said.
This structural imbalance is now intersecting with a shift in how African countries finance their health systems.
Historically, governments relied heavily on multilateral institutions to support programmes targeting HIV, tuberculosis and malaria.
However, in recent years, there has been a shift toward bilateral agreements, especially with the United States, as countries seek faster and more predictable funding aligned with national priorities.
Nigeria’s 5.1 billion dollar health cooperation deal with the United States illustrates this trend.
The agreement aims to strengthen disease surveillance, laboratory systems, workforce capacity and access to essential health services.
For policymakers, it represents an opportunity to reinforce a fragile health system.
The Coordinating Minister of Health and Social Welfare, Prof. Muhammad Ali Pate, described the deal as a critical step toward building resilience and safeguarding public health.
However, questions remain about how transparently such agreements are negotiated and whether sufficient safeguards exist to protect national interests.
Critics argue that the structure of these arrangements often tells a more complicated story.
Much of the funding, Banji noted, is tied to goods and services sourced from donor countries, including reagents, medical supplies, equipment and technical expertise.
As a result, a significant portion of the funds may ultimately flow back to the originating economies.
She also raised concerns about Nigeria’s ability to meet its co-financing obligations, given its long-standing failure to meet the 15 per cent health budget target under the Abuja Declaration.
“If such resources are mobilised, priority should be given to building laboratories, research infrastructure and human capacity,” she said. “Otherwise, dependency will persist.”
Beyond financing, the debate raises deeper questions about sovereignty.
Without strong local laboratories, research systems and data infrastructure, African countries remain limited in their ability to independently analyse pathogens or translate data into innovation.
Experts say this weakens control not only over resources but also over knowledge and future economic gains.
Civil society groups and legal experts have also flagged concerns about data governance, warning that aspects of such agreements could conflict with national frameworks, including the Nigeria Data Protection Act.
Dr. Eleojo Samuel, a public health analyst, said the long-term implications are often overlooked.
“These agreements are not just about funding,” he said. “They come with obligations that can shape how countries manage their data, their research and even their health priorities.”
Nigeria is not alone in confronting these challenges.
Across the continent, governments are scrutinising the terms of health partnerships.
In recent months, countries such as Zimbabwe and Zambia have stalled or rejected funding arrangements over concerns about unfavourable conditions, while in Kenya, a proposed deal was halted by the courts on data protection grounds.
These developments reflect a broader unease with what some analysts describe as “biomedical extractives”—a system in which biological resources and data are sourced from developing countries but monetised elsewhere.
Although global frameworks such as the Nagoya Protocol and PABS exist to promote equitable benefit-sharing, implementation gaps persist, leaving many countries without sufficient leverage to negotiate fair terms.
For Tomori and other experts, the solution lies in stronger coordination.
Fragmented, country-by-country negotiations tend to weaken Africa’s bargaining power.
By contrast, alignment through institutions such as the Africa Centres for Disease Control and Prevention could help ensure that agreements are negotiated from a position of strength.
Key priorities, they argue, should include technology transfer, local vaccine production, equitable access to innovations, sustainable financing, workforce development and robust safeguards for data sovereignty.
Without these, short-term gains may come at the expense of long-term independence.
The stakes are high.
Delays in funding and limited local capacity are already affecting programme delivery in some countries, with disruptions reported in HIV, malaria and diagnostic services.
These challenges highlight the risks of overdependence on external systems.
At the same time, they underscore an opportunity.
Africa is not lacking in resources; rather, the challenge lies in building the infrastructure and strategy needed to convert those resources into lasting value.
The decisions being made today—on how pathogens are shared, how data is governed and how partnerships are structured—will shape the continent’s place in the global health order for decades.
As Tomori puts it, “Africa is not resource-poor. It is resource-rich, but must become resource-wise.”
The question, therefore, is no longer whether Africa will participate in the global health economy; it already does.
The real question is whether it will do so on equitable terms or continue to supply the building blocks of innovation while others capture the rewards.
