The soft glow of computer screens illuminated tired faces as health officials entered the third day of discussions at the World Health Assembly in Geneva last week. I watched as delegates from small island nations sat straighter in their seats, their fatigue momentarily forgotten. For them, this wasn’t just another agenda item – it was about survival.
“In my country, we are already evacuating entire communities,” a Pacific Island representative told me during a coffee break. Their voice cracked slightly. “The sea is claiming our homes while we debate documents.”
After nearly two years of consultations and drafting, the World Health Organization‘s action plan on climate change and health for 2024-2030 faced its moment of truth. The plan aims to protect communities from climate-related health threats like heat stress, vector-borne diseases, and mental health impacts that are already affecting millions globally.
But what should have been a straightforward approval process instead revealed deep geopolitical fault lines that often stall climate action.
Saudi Arabia led a last-minute effort to shelve the plan, supported by several other oil-producing nations. Their delegation argued for postponement, citing concerns about the plan’s financial implications and alignment with other UN frameworks. This echoed tactics seen at broader climate negotiations, where fossil fuel interests have historically slowed binding commitments.
Dr. Maria Neira, WHO’s environment director, appeared visibly relieved when I spoke with her after the plan survived the challenge. “This plan gives health systems concrete tools to prepare for what’s coming,” she explained. “Every day of delay means more preventable suffering.”
The approved framework emphasizes five strategic priorities, including strengthening health systems against climate shocks, expanding research on climate-health connections, and ensuring sustainable healthcare facilities. For Canada’s northern communities, where warming is occurring at more than twice the global average rate, these measures couldn’t come soon enough.
Last summer, I traveled to Yellowknife as unprecedented wildfires forced the evacuation of the entire city. At a temporary shelter in Edmonton, I met Sarah, a nurse who had evacuated with her family.
“Our health center was already struggling with staffing,” she told me, bouncing her toddler on her knee. “Now we’re facing smoke seasons that trigger asthma attacks in children who never had breathing problems before.”
The WHO plan addresses precisely these cascading impacts, where climate disasters strain already under-resourced health systems. According to research published in The Lancet, heat-related deaths among people over 65 have increased by approximately 85% compared to the 1990s baseline.
What makes the new WHO framework particularly valuable is its emphasis on adaptation alongside mitigation. While reducing emissions remains crucial, communities need immediate support adapting to changes already locked in by past emissions.
Dr. Courtney Howard, an emergency physician from Yellowknife who has studied climate health impacts for years, believes the plan arrives at a critical moment. “We’re seeing climate change in our emergency departments every day,” she told me by phone. “From heat stroke to anxiety after displacement, these aren’t theoretical future concerns – they’re current reality.”
The plan also acknowledges something often overlooked in technical discussions: climate change hits disadvantaged communities first and hardest. Indigenous populations, those with disabilities, elderly people, and children face disproportionate risks.
“When temperature extremes hit, it’s those without air conditioning or adequate housing who suffer most,” explains Dr. Howard. “And when disasters force evacuations, it’s those without resources to relocate who face the gravest health consequences.”
While the action plan’s approval represents progress, implementation remains the greater challenge. WHO estimates that less than 0.5% of multilateral climate finance supports health protection, a gap the new framework aims to address.
For Canada specifically, the plan reinforces commitments made under our National Adaptation Strategy. This includes protecting public health systems against climate shocks and ensuring healthcare facilities themselves can withstand extreme weather – a need underscored when several British Columbia hospitals had to evacuate patients during the 2021 heat dome and subsequent flooding.
As delegates filed out of the assembly hall after the vote, I noticed the Saudi representatives in deep conversation with technical staff. One official, speaking on condition of anonymity, suggested their opposition wasn’t about denying climate change entirely but rather concerns about the pace of energy transition.
This tension between immediate health protection and economic interests will likely continue shaping climate health policy. Yet the WHO plan’s approval sends a clear signal that health systems worldwide are recognizing climate change as a defining health challenge of our time.
For frontline communities like those I’ve visited across northern Canada, these frameworks provide validation of what they’ve been experiencing for years. The question now is whether implementation will match the urgency of their reality.
As Sarah, the Yellowknife nurse, told me before we parted ways: “We don’t need more evidence that this is happening. We need help preparing for what comes next.”
