Without biodiversity, we would have no medicinal plants; it is the starting point.
In Geneva this May, the World Health Organization used its 79th World Health Assembly to assert what the evidence has long suggested: traditional medicine, relied upon by the majority of humanity across nearly every nation, is not peripheral to global health but foundational to it. Despite serving between 40 and 90 percent of populations in 90 percent of countries, these healing systems receive less than one percent of global health research funding — a disparity that speaks less to their efficacy than to the hierarchies that have long shaped what the world chooses to measure and value. Over four days, governments, scientists, indigenous leaders, and young people gathered to begin the harder work of turning a ten-year WHO strategy into living institutions, funding mechanisms, and shared governance — a convergence of ancient knowledge and modern rigor that may, in time, require no distinction at all.
- A healing system used by billions receives less than one percent of global research funding — a structural inequity that the WHO is now naming openly and urgently.
- Fragmented regulations, expensive clinical validation, and investor risk aversion have long kept traditional medicine outside mainstream health financing, and new blended finance models are being proposed to break that deadlock.
- Artificial intelligence offers the promise of accelerating traditional medicine research, but also the threat of extracting centuries of indigenous knowledge without consent, benefit, or legal protection.
- The biodiversity crisis has made the stakes existential: without functioning ecosystems, the medicinal plants at the heart of these traditions simply disappear, linking planetary health directly to human healing.
- Youth leaders and two African government ministers pushed back against the invisibility of young people in health policymaking, winning commitments to embed traditional medicine in professional training curricula.
- The assembly closed with a vision of convergence — a future in which traditional and modern medicine are held to the same standards of rigor and no longer require separate names.
In Geneva this May, the WHO's 79th World Health Assembly made a case that has been building for years: traditional medicine is not a supplement to modern health systems but a central pillar of how the world should approach healing. Across four days of high-level sessions, speakers from governments, the private sector, and civil society gathered to discuss how to scale traditional medicine — used by 40 to 90 percent of people in 90 percent of countries — while protecting the biodiversity and indigenous knowledge on which it depends.
The numbers tell a stark story. Despite this overwhelming reliance, traditional medicine receives less than one percent of global health research funding. Dr. Shyama Kuruvilla of the WHO Global Traditional Medicine Centre was direct: this is not a niche — it is, by any measure, the world's predominant healthcare system. The Geneva meetings represented the first major push to operationalize the WHO's ten-year Global Traditional Medicine Strategy, moving from rhetoric to action on four fronts: building the evidence base, establishing safe regulation, integrating traditional medicine into primary care, and fostering cross-sector collaboration.
Financing discussions centered on blended models combining venture capital, philanthropic grants, and government support. Clinical validation is expensive, regulatory frameworks vary widely across countries, and private investors seek to minimize risk. Portfolio diversification across geographies was proposed as one path forward. WHO Chief Scientist Dr. Sylvie Briand framed the goal not as preservation but as responsible advancement — new technologies in service of a holistic, person-centered philosophy.
Artificial intelligence emerged as both opportunity and risk. India, Thailand, Nepal, and Sri Lanka led a session on how AI could accelerate traditional medicine research, but speakers were clear: robust data governance is essential. As AI systems are trained on medicinal knowledge accumulated over centuries, questions of ownership and benefit become urgent. Dr. Kuruvilla called for global collaboration to ensure indigenous communities retain rights to their own healing traditions.
The biodiversity crisis gave the conversation its sharpest edge. A panel on planetary health made explicit what many have long understood: medicinal plants cannot exist without functioning ecosystems. Climate change, land degradation, and species loss are direct threats to the material foundation of traditional medicine. Ayurvedic student and activist Gokul Rajendran described medicinal plants as the clinics of the forest — abundant and fragile at once. The WHO announced an upcoming framework on engagement with indigenous communities, framed as co-creation rather than extraction.
The most striking moment came in an evening session on youth leadership. Young people from medical and pharmacy student organizations called for genuine inclusion in health policymaking and for traditional medicine to be embedded in professional training curricula. Ministers from Lesotho and Ghana acknowledged what they called the disability of youth invisibility in national health structures, and committed to change.
Dr. Briand closed with a prediction: when different streams of knowledge about health finally converge, the world may need only one name for how we approach healing — one held to the same standards of rigor, regulation, and continuous evaluation. The work now is to build the institutions and political will to make that convergence real.
In Geneva this May, the World Health Organization convened a series of high-level meetings to make a case that has been building for years: traditional medicine is not a relic or a supplement to modern health systems, but a central pillar of how the world should approach health itself. Over three days at the 79th World Health Assembly, speakers from governments, the private sector, and civil society organizations gathered to discuss how to scale traditional medicine—the healing practices used by an estimated 40 to 90 percent of people in 90 percent of countries—while simultaneously protecting the biodiversity and indigenous knowledge on which it depends.
The numbers tell a stark story of neglect. Despite this overwhelming reliance, traditional medicine receives less than one percent of global health research funding. Dr. Shyama Kuruvilla, director of the WHO Global Traditional Medicine Centre, put it plainly: this is not a niche. It is, by any measure, the world's predominant healthcare system. Yet the investment gap persists. The WHO adopted a ten-year Global Traditional Medicine Strategy just a year earlier, and the Geneva meetings represented the first major push to operationalize it—to move from rhetoric to action on four fronts: strengthening the scientific evidence base, establishing safe regulation, integrating traditional medicine into primary health care, and building cross-sector collaboration.
On the financing side, the conversation centered on how to unlock capital for traditional medicine without compromising its integrity. Investors and policymakers discussed blended finance models that would combine venture capital, philanthropic grants, and government support. The challenge is real: clinical validation is expensive, regulatory frameworks are fragmented across countries, and private investors naturally seek to mitigate risk. The proposed solution involves portfolio diversification across multiple nations and geographies. WHO's Chief Scientist, Dr. Sylvie Briand, framed the goal not as preservation but as responsible advancement—leveraging new technologies while respecting the holistic, person-centered philosophy that defines traditional medicine systems.
Artificial intelligence emerged as both opportunity and risk. India, Thailand, Nepal, and Sri Lanka led a session exploring how AI could accelerate traditional medicine research and practice, but speakers emphasized that this requires robust data governance and protection of traditional knowledge. The concern is real: as AI systems are trained on medicinal knowledge accumulated over centuries, who owns that knowledge? Who benefits? Dr. Kuruvilla called for strengthened global collaboration to ensure that communities and indigenous peoples retain rights to their own healing traditions.
The biodiversity crisis gave the conversation an urgency that transcended academic interest. On May 21st, a panel on traditional medicine and planetary health made explicit what many have long understood: medicinal plants cannot exist without functioning ecosystems. Cristina Romanelli, a health and environment consultant to the WHO, stated the obvious truth that bears repeating: without biodiversity, there are no medicinal plants. Climate change, land degradation, and species loss are not abstract environmental problems—they are direct threats to the material foundation of traditional medicine itself. Gokul Rajendran, an Ayurvedic medicine student and co-founder of the Global Indigenous Traditional Medicine Alliance, described medicinal plants as the clinics of the forest, a phrase that captures both their abundance and their fragility. Indigenous peoples, who steward the majority of the world's remaining biodiversity, were centered in this conversation. The WHO announced an upcoming framework on respectful engagement with indigenous communities, framed explicitly as a product of co-creation rather than extraction.
Perhaps the most striking moment came in the evening session on youth leadership. Young people from pharmaceutical and medical student organizations called for their inclusion not as tokens but as essential voices in shaping health policy. They emphasized the need to integrate traditional medicine into professional training curricula—medical schools, nursing programs, pharmacy degrees—so that the next generation of health workers understands these systems not as alternatives but as complementary approaches. Two government ministers, Mamokete Ntsekhe of Lesotho and Evelyn Abayaah-Issah of Ghana, acknowledged what they called the disability that comes from youth invisibility in national health structures, and committed their countries to change.
What emerged across these four days was a vision of convergence. Dr. Briand closed her remarks with a prediction: in the near future, when different streams of knowledge about health and medicine come together, the world may need only one name for how we approach healing—one that encompasses both traditional and modern medicine, neither dismissed nor accepted uncritically, but held to the same standards of rigor, regulation, quality, and continuous evaluation. The work now is to build the institutions, the funding mechanisms, and the political will to make that convergence real.
Citações Notáveis
The goal is not simply to preserve traditional medicine but to responsibly advance its contribution to better health and well-being for future generations while leveraging new technologies.— Dr. Sylvie Briand, WHO Chief Scientist
With 90% of countries reporting the use of traditional medicine by 40–90% of their populations, this is not some niche. In fact, you could say it is the world's predominant healthcare system.— Dr. Shyama Kuruvilla, WHO Global Traditional Medicine Centre
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does this moment matter now? Traditional medicine has existed for thousands of years. What changed?
The funding gap finally became impossible to ignore. When 90 percent of countries report that their populations use traditional medicine, but less than one percent of research money goes there, you have a crisis of evidence and credibility. The WHO strategy gave it official legitimacy, but these meetings were about moving past words to actual investment and integration.
The biodiversity angle seems crucial. How does climate change directly threaten traditional medicine?
Medicinal plants need specific ecosystems to thrive. As those ecosystems collapse—through deforestation, pollution, climate shifts—the plants disappear. You lose not just a treatment option but centuries of accumulated knowledge about how to use them. Indigenous communities have stewarded this knowledge and these species together. Lose the biodiversity, lose the medicine.
But there's a tension here, isn't there? You're trying to scale traditional medicine through AI and venture capital, while also protecting indigenous knowledge and ecosystems. Those forces can work against each other.
Exactly. That's why the governance question matters so much. If AI companies train algorithms on traditional knowledge without consent or benefit-sharing, you've extracted value from communities that stewarded it for generations. The framework on respectful engagement is meant to prevent that. It's not about stopping innovation—it's about ensuring communities have power in how their knowledge is used.
What about the youth angle? Why were young people given such prominence?
Because they're the ones who will implement this. If medical schools don't teach traditional medicine, the next generation of doctors won't know how to integrate it into practice. Young people also bridge worlds—they understand both traditional knowledge and digital tools. And frankly, policymakers admitted they've been leaving young people out of decisions that affect them. That's changing.
So what actually happens next? These were conversations at a conference. How does this become policy?
That's the real test. Countries like Lesotho and Ghana committed to integrating traditional medicine into their health systems and training curricula. The WHO has a ten-year strategy with specific pillars. But it requires sustained funding, regulatory frameworks that work across borders, and genuine partnership with indigenous communities—not just consultation. The conversations were the easy part.