Literatura científica selecionada sobre o tema "(Poland and Russia : 1667 February 9)"

The collection of scientific articles under review contains materials of the All-Russian scientific conference held at the Department of Russian History of the Faculty of Social Sciences of the Herzen State Pedagogical University of Russia in St Petersburg and dedicated to the problems of the Russian Revolution of 1917. The collection contains 19 articles, including one documentary publication. Among the authors of the collection, there are well-known scientists and aspiring young researchers from St Petersburg and a number of other Russian cities as well as one foreign participant (from Poland). The articles examine various aspects of revolutionary transformations, mainly on the basis of Petrograd materials, mostly in the period between spring 1917 and early autumn 1917. Based on a significant number of published and archival sources, the articles of the collection consider little-known facts from the history of the Russian Revolution and propose new approaches to the interpretation of the situation in Russia in 1917.

The present study investigated the characteristics of carbonaceous species in an urban background site. Real-time measurements of inorganic (sulfate, nitrate, ammonium, chloride, and black carbon [BC]) and organic submicron aerosols (OA) were carried out at the urban background site of Vilnius, Lithuania, during January–February 2014. An aerosol chemical speciation monitor (ACSM, Aerodyne Research Inc., Billerica, MA, USA) and co-located 7-λ aethalometer (AE-31, Magee Scientific, Berkeley, CA, USA) were used to analyze the chemical compositions, sources, and extinction characteristics of the PM1. Extremely contrasting meteorological conditions were observed during the studied period due to the transition from moderately cold (~2 °C) conditions to extremely cold conditions with a lowest temperature of −25 °C; therefore, three investigation episodes were considered. The identified periods corresponded to the transition time from the moderately cold to the extremely cold winter period, which was traced by the change in the average temperature for the study days of 1–13 January, with T = −5 °C and RH = 92%, in contrast to the period of 14–31 January, with T = −14 °C and RH = 74%, and the very short third period of 1–3 February, with T = −8 °C and RH = 35%. On average, organics accounted for the major part (53%) of the non-refractory submicron aerosols (NR-PM1), followed by nitrate (18%) and sulfate (9%). The source apportionment results showed the five most common OA components, such as traffic and heating, to be related to hydrocarbon-like organic aerosols (HOAtraffic and HOAheating, respectively), biomass-burning organic aerosols (BBOA), local organic aerosol (LOA), and secondary organic aerosol (SOA). Traffic emissions contributed 53% and biomass burning 47% to the BC concentration level. The highest BC and OA concentrations were, on average, associated with air masses originating from the southwest and east–southeast. Furthermore, the results of the PSCF and CWT methods indicated the main source regions that contributed the most to the BC concentration in Vilnius to be the following: central–southwestern and northeastern Poland, northwestern–southwestern and eastern Belarus, northwestern Ukraine, and western Russia. However, the potential sources of OA were widely distributed.

Although the first issue of Zootaxa appeared in 2001 it was not until two years later, in August 2003, that this aspiring and inspiring new journal issued the first paper on the insect Order Thysanoptera, in Volume 268. Moreover, it was not until February 2005 that the second paper concerning this group appeared in Zootaxa. The subsequent expansion is summarized most succinctly by the number of Thysanoptera papers that appeared in Zootaxa in each of the four five-year periods of these two decades: 5; 40; 92; 134 (see Table 1). The 270 papers concerning this group of insects that appeared in Zootaxa over the 20-year period involved more than 120 authors. These papers were submitted by workers from about 30 different countries, but most of them were from areas of high but previously unexplored species diversity, particularly Australia, Brazil, China, India, Iran, Japan and Malaysia. However, significant contributions were submitted from the far north, including Poland and Russia, as well as the far south, such as Argentina and New Zealand. One reason for the popularity of Zootaxa amongst workers on thrips is presumably the knowledge that this section is edited by two active students of these insects. The editors are pleased to have rejected no more than five papers over these two decades, but they provide much help to authors in shaping manuscripts to ensure that the submitted information is both appropriate, scientifically correct, novel and clearly expressed. Moreover, the journal ensures that manuscripts are published very quickly, usually within four weeks of acceptance by the editors. For the readers a further advantage of Zootaxa is that just over 50% of the published articles on Thysanoptera are freely available on the web, as authors have arranged for Open Access. The thrips publications issued in Zootaxa have included descriptions of 563 new species and 41 new genera of Thysanoptera. These new species represent 9% of the 6300 valid extant species currently listed in this Order, and the new genera represent 5% of the 780 currently recognized genera (ThripsWiki 2021). Many of the publications are only of one or two pages and are issued as Correspondence. Each of these deals with a single new species, or a previously unknown male of a species, or some new and particularly unusual record for a country or host plant. At the opposite extreme are the Monographs that involve revisions of all of the species in a genus, such as the 60 species recognised in the South American genus Holopothrips, or the 30 species known in the worldwide genus Mycterothrips. Others provide illustrated keys to large numbers of genera, such as the 100 genera of Phlaeothripinae that have been recorded from South East Asia. Such extensive studies provide the factual resource on which many of the Articles published in Zootaxa are based. These Articles range from taxonomic revisions of small genera, or of the species found in particular geographic areas, through studies on character state variation and homologies, to historical accounts and catalogues. The very considerable increase in information in recent years about the taxonomic and biological diversity of this group of insects (Mound & Hastenpflug-Vesmanis2021) owes much to the existence of the journal Zootaxa.

Abstract Background: Patients with relapsed and refractory multiple myeloma (RRMM) who have triple class exposure to immunomodulatory drugs (IMiDs), proteasome inhibitors (PIs) and anti-CD38 monoclonal antibodies (MoABs) have a poor prognosis and high unmet medical need. Ciltacabtagene autoleucel (cilta-cel) is a chimeric antigen receptor T-cell therapy which may offer long-term disease control for these patients. CARTITUDE-1 is an open-label, single arm phase 1b/2 clinical trial conducted to characterize the safety and efficacy of cilta-cel in adult patients with triple-class exposed RRMM. Since CARTITUDE-1 is a single-arm study, adjusted comparisons to other currently available therapies can provide valuable information on relative efficacy and safety benefits of cilta-cel over current real-world clinical practice (RWCP). LocoMMotion is the first prospective study of RWCP efficacy and safety outcomes in triple-class exposed patients with RRMM. It was designed a priori to serve as an external control cohort for CARTITUDE-1, using aligned inclusion criteria and endpoint definitions, to enable robust, high quality indirect comparisons vs. cilta-cel. Objective: To compare patient outcomes of cilta-cel vs. RWCP, including overall response rate (ORR), complete response or better rate (≥CR rate), progression-free survival (PFS) as assessed by a review committee and overall survival (OS) in patients with triple-class exposed RRMM. Methods: Individual patient level data available from both CARTITUDE-1 (clinical cut-off February 2021) and LocoMMotion (clinical cut-off March 2021) were pooled to conduct the comparative analyses. Imbalances between both cohorts on key prognostic baseline characteristics, including refractory status, ISS stage, time to progression on prior line, number of prior lines, average duration of prior lines, age, creatinine clearance, ECOG PS and MM type were adjusted for using inverse probability weighting. Average treatment effect on the treated (ATT) weights derived from propensity scores estimated using multivariable logistic regression modeling were applied to the LocoMMotion patients to have the weighted RWCP cohort reflecting the CARTITUDE-1 patient population. Balance between the ATT weighted RWCP cohort versus the CARTITUDE-1 population was evaluated based on reduction of standardized mean differences and overlap of propensity score distributions. Weighted logistic and Cox proportional hazards regression were used to estimate the relative treatment effects for cilta-cel vs. RWCP on binary endpoints (Odds ratios (OR), transformed into Response-rate Ratios (RR) and time to event endpoints (Hazard ratios (HR)), respectively. The base case analyses included all enrolled (apheresed) patients from CARTITUDE-1, reflecting an intention to treat approach. Additional analyses were conducted including only patients who received cilta-cel infusion compared to an aligned population of LocoMMotion where patients that progressed or died within 52 days were excluded from the LocoMMotion cohort. Results: 113 patients were enrolled in CARTITUDE-1, of which 97 were infused with cilta-cel. 246 patients were enrolled in LocoMMotion receiving RWCP in Italy (24%), Germany (15%), France (14%), UK (11%), Spain (10%), USA (9%), Belgium (5%), Poland (5%), Netherlands (4%) and Russia (3%). Therapies within the RWCP cohort were diverse and >90 unique treatment regimens were used. The most frequent regimens were Kd (13.8%), PCd (12.6%) and Pd (11.0%). The weighted LocoMMotion population was well balanced with the CARTITUDE-1 cohort. Adjusted comparisons (Table 1) showed statistically significant improvements for cilta-cel vs. RWCP for ORR (RR=4.43), ≥CR (RR=568.92), PFS (HR=0.15) and OS (HR=0.38), all comparisons with p<0.001. All additional analyses were consistent with these findings (Table 1). Conclusions: Outcomes for patients with triple-class exposed RRMM treated with RWPC observed in LocoMMotion are poor, illustrating the high unmet medical need. Adjusted comparisons vs. CARTITUDE-1 demonstrate significantly improved ORR, ≥CR, PFS and OS for cilta-cel compared to a diverse set of RWCP. These findings highlight cilta-cel's potential as a highly effective treatment option for patients with triple-class exposed RRMM. Figure 1 Figure 1. Disclosures Mateos: Regeneron: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; GSK: Honoraria; Sea-Gen: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Adaptive Biotechnologies: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Celgene - Bristol Myers Squibb: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Roche: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Oncopeptides: Honoraria; Takeda: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; AbbVie: Honoraria; Amgen: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Oncopeptides: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Janssen: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Sanofi: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Bluebird bio: Honoraria; Pfizer: Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees. Weisel: GSK: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Amgen: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; Adaptive Biotechnologies: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Janssen: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; Bristol Myers Squibb: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; Takeda: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Karyopharm: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Roche: Honoraria; Oncopeptides: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Celgene: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; Sanofi: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; Abbvie: Consultancy; Novartis: Honoraria; Pfizer: Honoraria. Martin: Sanofi: Research Funding; Oncopeptides: Consultancy; Janssen: Research Funding; GlaxoSmithKline: Consultancy; Amgen: Research Funding. Berdeja: Celularity, CRISPR Therapeutics: Research Funding; Abbvie, Acetylon, Amgen: Research Funding; Bluebird bio, BMS, Celgene, CRISPR Therapeutics, Janssen, Kite Pharma, Legend Biotech, SecuraBio, Takeda: Consultancy; EMD Sorono, Genentech: Research Funding; GSK, Ichnos Sciences, Incyte: Research Funding; Lilly, Novartis: Research Funding; Poseida, Sanofi, Teva: Research Funding. Jakubowiak: Karyopharm: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; GSK: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Janssen: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Sanofi: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Amgen: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Abbvie: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; BMS: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Gracell: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Celgene: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees. Stewart: Oncopeptides: Honoraria; Janssen: Honoraria; GSK: Honoraria; BMS: Honoraria; Amgen: Honoraria; Skyline diagnostics: Consultancy; Genomcs England: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Tempus Inc.: Current holder of individual stocks in a privately-held company, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; PikSci Inc.: Current holder of individual stocks in a privately-held company, Patents & Royalties; Sanofi Aventis: Honoraria. Jagannath: Legend Biotech: Consultancy; Bristol Myers Squibb: Consultancy; Karyopharm Therapeutics: Consultancy; Janssen Pharmaceuticals: Consultancy; Takeda: Consultancy; Sanofi: Consultancy. Lin: Novartis: Consultancy; Bluebird Bio: Consultancy, Research Funding; Legend: Consultancy; Sorrento: Consultancy; Juno: Consultancy; Takeda: Research Funding; Celgene: Consultancy, Research Funding; Gamida Cell: Consultancy; Vineti: Consultancy; Merck: Research Funding; Janssen: Consultancy, Research Funding; Kite, a Gilead Company: Consultancy, Research Funding. Diels: Janssen: Current Employment. Ghilotti: Janssen-Cilag SpA, Cologno Monzese, Italy: Current Employment. Perualila: Janssen: Current Employment. Cabrieto: Janssen: Current Employment. Haefliger: Janssen-Cilag AG: Ended employment in the past 24 months; Cilag GmbH International: Current Employment. Erler-Yates: Janssen: Current Employment. Hague: Janssen: Current Employment, Current equity holder in publicly-traded company. Jackson: Janssen: Current Employment; Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center: Consultancy. Strulev: Janssen Pharmaceutica NV: Current Employment. Nesheiwat: Legend Biotech USA: Current Employment. Pacaud: Legend Biotech: Current Employment. Moreau: Janssen: Honoraria; Celgene BMS: Honoraria; Amgen: Honoraria; Sanofi: Honoraria; Abbvie: Honoraria; Oncopeptides: Honoraria. Einsele: Janssen, Celgene/BMS, Amgen, GSK, Sanofi: Consultancy, Honoraria, Research Funding.

AbstractThe Nord Stream 2 pipeline project to deliver gas from Russia through the Baltic Sea to Germany, and on to other parts of Europe, was a subject of unrelenting contestation. It impelled the convergence and intensification of already highly politicised domains: economics, energy, environment, conventional security, history, and values. Russian authorities, Nord Stream 2 AG and its investor consortium, and supportive politicians were opposed by governments of Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Ukraine, the USA, EU institutions, and some NGOs. Germany was confronted with sharp dilemmas and remains the pivotal actor in this confluence. The responsible German ministry rescinded approval to operate the pipeline 2 days before the Russian invasion of Ukraine on 24 February 2022. The topic encourages interaction of materialist IPE with other branches of International Relations, comparative politics, history, and law to incorporate identity-based, normative, and geopolitical influences on nominally economic activity and policy.

This article investigates emotionally based solidarity appeals in the Facebook posts from Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki (Poland) and Prime Minister Viktor Orbán (Hungary) published in the first weeks of Russia’s military invasion of Ukraine, between February 24 and April 9, 2022. Our approach involves a qualitative thematic analysis to uncover the political strategies used to either foster or diminish a collective sense of sympathy. The findings reveal a striking disparity between the two countries. Prime Minister Morawiecki’s rhetoric strongly emphasizes sympathetic solidarity, establishing a close and emotional bond with Ukraine. He extends his support to the attacked country, including the provision of weapons and diplomatic services, while openly expressing hostility toward Russia. In contrast, Prime Minister Orbán’s posts, despite mentioning humanitarian efforts coordinated by his government, notably lack appeals for sympathy. Based on the comparison of the two countries, our study emphasizes the significance of nuanced moral language for political agenda in times of crisis.

The emergence of diplomatic protocol service within the structure of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) of Estonia (1918–40) is a subject that has hitherto not been researched. This is illustrated by the fact that even the complete list of chiefs of protocol (chef du protocole) of the MFA of Estonia has been missing until now. The strengthening of Estonia’s statehood by its international recognition, the accreditation of foreign envoys, and the first state visits brought about the need for a thorough understanding of all nuances of diplomatic protocol and ceremonial. Nevertheless, the office of a separate chief of protocol was created in the structure of the MFA of Estonia only according to the new Foreign Service Act, decreed by the Head of State Konstantin Päts on 13 March 1936; i.e. more than 18 years after the declaration of Estonia’s independence. Prior to 1936, the functions of protocol officers were usually fulfilled by the head of the MFA’s administrative or political department. This article focuses on three core issues: 1) who were the chiefs of protocol? 2) their functions and how diplomatic protocol was regulated in the MFA; 3) the reason why a separate office of the chief of protocol was not created earlier than 1936. The key source for this research is the MFA collection in the Estonian National Archives (RA, ERA.957). There are no clear sources regarding the functions of the chief of protocol before 1922. The field was most probably shaped and shared by several officials, including the head of the political department Hermann Karl Hellat (1872–1953) and William Tomingas (1895–1972), the junior private secretary of Foreign Minister Jaan Tõnisson (1868–1941?). Everything connected to international practices was probably influenced by the most experienced diplomats of the young state, namely the members of Estonia’s foreign delegation, which had already been created in 1917. Another major influence was Foreign Minister Jaan Poska (1866–1920), who as a former mayor of Tallinn, the former governor of the autonomous Governorate of Estonia, and the head of Estonia’s delegation at the peace talks with Soviet Russia, had extensive experience in protocol-related matters. Hans Johannes (Johan) Ernst Markus (1884–1969) can be deemed the first chief of protocol to be mentioned in the hitherto known sources of the MFA. According to an MFA report to the Estonian government from July of 1922, Markus was the head of the MFA’s Western political department and performed the duties of ‘master of ceremonies’ as well. In January of 1923, Markus was appointed head of the MFA’s administrative department. He remained in this office until April of 1927, coordinating the state visits of the President of Latvia Jānis Čakste (February of 1924), the Secretary General of the League of Nations Eric Drummond (February of 1924), and the President of Finland Lauri Kristian Relander (May of 1925), as well as the state visits of Estonia’s Head of State, the presentation of credentials, and day-to-day work regarding diplomatic privileges and immunities. Since the chief of protocol was responsible for organising ceremonies connected to the Head of State (Riigivanem), Markus could be considered not only as a coordinator of the MFA’s protocol matters, but as the chief of state protocol. Markus certainly did not work alone. He could rely on the administrative department and basically the whole MFA in fulfilling his functions, while also counting on the support of the aide-de-camp to the Head of State. Nevertheless, it was Markus who laid the ’cornerstone’ for the best practices that could be systematised and used by his successors. In April of 1927, the functions of the chief of protocol were taken over by Johan Leppik (1894–1965), the former Envoy to Poland and Romania, and Chargé d’Affaires in Czechoslovakia. In August of 1927, Leppik was appointed head of the MFA’s political department. According to the MFA’s working arrangement, Leppik retained the functions of chef du protocole in his new office starting from January of 1928. Since the grand, first-ever state visit of a monarch to Estonia, by King Gustaf V of Sweden in June of 1929, and the visit of the President of Poland Ignacy Mościcki in August of 1930 (which were preceded by the state visits of Estonia’s Head of State to those countries) required extensive preparations, Leppik could rely on the work of his subordinate, the head of the political bureau and deputy chief of protocol Elmar-Johann Kirotar (1899–1985). In June of 1931, Leppik was succeeded by the director of the bureau of law Artur Haman (Tuldava) (1897–1942) in his office as chief of protocol. Haman (Tuldava) put great effort into systematising existing practices related to protocol (incl. Presentation of credentials, and receptions) into a comprehensive compendium, which has been preserved to this day. The efficient work of Kirotar and Tuldava was probably noted by Estonia’s leadership, since once the separaate office of the chief of protocol had been created within the structure of the MFA, the position was filled first by Kirotar (1936–9) and then by Tuldava (1939–40). The quest for stability was most probably connected to the strong presidential power that shaped Estonia’s political life in the latter half of the 1930s. The personal influence of the head of state became more important in filling high-ranking positions in the state structure. According to the Foreign Service Act adopted by Parliament (Riigikogu) on 30 May 1930, departmental directors were appointed by the Foreign Minister. The Foreign Service Act decreed by the Head of State on 13 March 1936 changed this procedure. According to the latter, departmental directors (incl. the chief of protocol) were appointed and dismissed by the Head of State (upon taking into consideration proposals from the Foreign Minister). There is no clear answer to the question of why there was no separate office of the chief of protocol in the 1920s, since these functions needed to be fulfilled anyway. This was most probably connected to budgetary restrictions i.e. the need to avoid all kinds of ’unnecessary’ expenses. In the 1930s, the director of the administrative department Jaan Mölder (1880–1942, in office 1935–6) and the head of the consular bureau August Koern (1900–89, in office 1936) also briefly fulfilled the functions of the chief of protocol. The latter was especially involved in systematising the rules and regulations of diplomatic practices. Like his predecessors and successors, he sent numerous inquiries to Estonia’s representations abroad to collect information on matters connected to privileges and immunities, decorations, preseance, organisation of state funerals, etc. According to sources at the Estonian National Archives, Estonia’s MFA collected information on international diplomatic practice everywhere that it was represented by its missions abroad. Already during the first years of Estonia’s independence, the MFA possessed the popular Guide to Diplomatic Practice by Sir Ernest Mason Satow (first issued in 1917) and several protocol-related compendiums from Finland, the United States of America, Great Britain, etc. It can be concluded that without a rich heritage of diplomatic practice of its own, Estonia was quickly able to successfully adapt to the international environment in matters of diplomatic protocol.

The war in Ukraine has serious consequences for the entire Ukrainian society and the world in general. The Ukrainian people have once again suffered a tragic event at the hands of the Russian Federation in the 21st century, resulting in a bloody genocide and undermining the concept of freedom for all humanity. Ukraine survived the Holodomor genocides of the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s, the occupation wars of the Soviet Union in the early 1920s and late 1930s, and deportations of Ukrainians in the 20th and 21st centuries [1]. Every family remembers the significant losses of loved ones through generations and their suffering across the world. The concept of genocide as a crime emerged in international law after the Second World War. Lawyer Raphael Lemkin, a Polish and American legal practitioner of Jewish origin, first introduced the term genocide as a legal concept. In the early 1920s, R. Lemkin studied philology and then law at the Jan Kazimierz University of Lviv. He defended his doctoral thesis at Heidelberg University in Germany, served as an assistant prosecutor in Berezhany in Ternopil Region, and lectured in Warsaw. In the early 1930s, he represented Poland at international legal conferences, and as early as 1933, he suggested that those who deliberately harmed a large group of people out of hatred and destroyed their cultural treasures, engaged in “vandalism,” killed, and raped should be considered as manifestations of genocide. People who performed actions or gave orders to do them should be tried and punished [2]. On December 9, 1948, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. The definition of genocide is used in the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court [3]. The following acts committed with the intention of complete or partial destruction of the national, ethnic, racial or religious group are considered genocide: 1) murder; 2) causing severe physical or mental injuries; 3) deliberate creation of living conditions that are designed for complete or partial destruction; 4) actions intended to prevent the birth of children; 5) forcible transfer of children of this group to another group [4]. Thousands of Ukrainian civilians, wounded, soldiers, and prisoners of war have been victims of violent murders in this war. Russian prisoners of war have given testimony: “We had an order to immediately shoot anyone over 15 years of age without a word. 20 to 24 individuals were executed, including teenagers aged 10–15 and 17... we cleared the building. It was unimportant who was there... In Soledar and Bakhmut, 150 Wagner Group mercenaries killed everyone – women, men, retired, and children, including young ones aged five... If they disobeyed orders, they were killed” [5]. They not only murdered civilian Ukrainians but were also ordered to finish off injured Ukrainian soldiers and shoot and behead prisoners[5]. In Geneva, Chair of the UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry, Erik Møse, stated that while no evidence had yet been found, the question «of the genocide in Ukraine presented by independent experts regarding the actions of the Russian aggressor (killings, inflicting severe bodily or mental injuries) needed further investigation». This is how the UN works, not for the people, but for the Russian Federation!!! [6] The International Criminal Court in the Hague, which has the authority to prosecute individuals responsible for genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity, has only recognized the fifth item as a manifestation of genocide in Ukraine – the forcible transfer of children from one group to another. The International Criminal Court issued an arrest warrant for the President of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Putin, for deporting Ukrainian children to Russia, as well as for the RF Commissioner for Children’s Rights, Maria Lvova-Belova, who is suspected of committing a war crime. The courageous and consistent chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Karim Khan, believes that no one should feel free to commit crimes [7]. We review the third and fourth items of the UN Convention in this article, which demonstrate signs of genocide in Ukraine and are associated with medicine, education, and science. Specifically, the intentional creation of living conditions intended for complete or partial destruction, actions intended to prevent the birth of children. Since late February 2022 and up to the present day, the WHO has verified 1,773 attacks on the healthcare system in Ukraine, resulting in the deaths of at least 136 medical workers and injuries to 288 [8]. 1,564 medical facilities were damaged, and an additional 208 were completely destroyed. During this period, the Russian army also destroyed 260 ambulances, damaged 161, and captured another 125. The enemy attacks medical infrastructure, such as hospitals, outpatient healthcare facilities, maternity hospitals, polyclinics, etc., on a daily basis [9]. In 2024, the attacks intensified. The healthcare infrastructure has suffered significant damage, particularly in areas near the front line. Up to 14% of facilities were completely destroyed, and up to 48% experienced partial damage. During this period, 40% of all attacks on the healthcare system are targeted at the primary level of medical care, hindering Ukrainians’ access to essential medical services. Emergency medical care centers accounted for 15% of the attacks. The number of double strikes has increased, posing an even greater danger to emergency workers and civilians. Emergency service workers and medical transport personnel are three times more likely to be injured by such strikes compared to other medical professionals. The most significant damage was suffered by medical facilities in Kharkiv, Donetsk, Mykolaiv, Kyiv, Chernihiv, Dnipropetrovsk, Kherson, and Zaporizhzhia Oblasts. The cost of medications has increased for the state during the war, particularly when inpatient treatment for patients is required. Patients purchase many medications themselves. Delivery of medicines to frontline regions is challenging. Providing access to medications is a significant issue in the healthcare sector, especially in areas that are subjected to constant shelling. As of April 2023, 75% of individuals had faced challenges because of the rising cost of medications, and 44% had difficulties obtaining them[10]. From February 24, 2022 to September 2023, complicated patients with oncological, autoimmune, and cardiovascular conditions who were receiving medication through clinical trials were affected. According to data from the State Expert Center of Ukraine, at the onset of the full-scale war, international sponsors of clinical trials suspended patient recruitment for 217 clinical trials. 234 clinical trials were prematurely terminated. Participants in the clinical trials were given four options: continuing treatment at the trial site (if possible), withdrawing from the trial early, transferring to other sites within Ukraine, or transferring to locations outside of Ukraine. Displaced patients scattered across over 25 countries around the world. The top therapeutic fields of transferred researched individuals were oncology, neurology, gastroenterology, rheumatology, and cardiology [10]. Damaging the energy infrastructure in Ukraine directly impacts the functioning of healthcare facilities. This applies to both the supply of electricity and water. Following the strikes on energy infrastructure last month, the winter season of 2024–2025 is likely to be extremely challenging. We also need to consider the availability of quality water and adequate sanitation, which are essential conditions for ensuring public health. 22% of households in the frontline regions delay seeking medical assistance. This is mainly due to financial constraints. Specifically, 24% of households are unable to afford medication, while 51% cannot cover the cost of medical services or vaccinations. Furthermore, there is an increasing lack of medical staff and a significant level of burnout. They feel a double burden. Medical professionals are part of affected communities in need of support and psychological assistance [11,12]. Therefore, the deliberate killing of patients and medical staff, the destruction of hospitals, polyclinics, outpatient medical facilities, and maternity hospitals, the destruction of the energy supply of medical facilities, the double bombing of ambulances, the inability to obtain necessary medications for patients, especially the seriously ill, the lack of possibility of getting medical assistance for Ukrainian citizens on their own territory are all consequences of the treacherous war waged by the Russian Federation against a neighboring country with the aim of seizing Ukrainian lands. Isn’t it a manifestation of genocide? Citizens of Ukraine have been deprived of the right to normal medical care for a third consecutive year! As medical professionals, we would like to ask the UN Investigative Committee if this could be considered a form of genocide. Children and young people have faced terrible trials as a result of the brutal war, depriving them of a normal life and education. 1,790 children have been recognized as victims during the deceitful war in Ukraine. 535 children have died, and over 1,255 have sustained injuries of varying degrees of severity, according to official information from juvenile prosecutors [13]. Many children and students had their schools, colleges, institutes, and universities destroyed or captured. 410 educational institutions were completely destroyed, and over 3,500 were damaged [14]. Due to frequent air raid alerts and bombings in Ukraine, education takes place in shelters or remotely. Children and youth lack the chance to obtain a quality education, making it challenging for them to enroll in higher educational institutions. More than a million children are unable to communicate with their teachers and friends because they are pursuing distance learning. Children living in the frontline territories of Ukraine have been forced to spend about 5,000 hours in underground shelters and the subway over the past two years [14]. The future of Ukraine greatly depends on the higher education of its youth. More than ten universities and research institutes were destroyed, with up to 40 experiencing destruction. Many students and faculty had to relocate to safe areas in Western Ukraine or evacuate abroad [15]. Ukrainian science has been suffering losses due to Russian aggression since 2014, following the occupation of Crimea and parts of Donetsk and Luhansk Regions. This resulted in Ukrainian scientific and educational institutions losing their premises, equipment, and some employees. They were forced to restructure their work during the evacuation. Since February 24, 2022, Ukraine has suffered unparalleled losses to its scientific community, with casualties including renowned professors, associate professors, senior researchers, assistants, graduate students, and undergraduates. By April 2024, over 140 Ukrainian scientists had perished in the full-scale Russian-Ukrainian war. We have lost highly talented individuals – the cream of the Ukrainian society [16]. Research and professional development opportunities for scientists in Ukraine are limited or completely absent due to the war. Continuous shelling, life-threatening situations, ruined labs, lecture halls, and research institutes, financial shortages, absence of basic amenities (power cuts, internet and mobile communication disruptions, etc.), displacement, forced emigration, and Russian occupation are just some of the challenges faced by students, teachers, and scientists. According to the National Research Fund, only 57 out of 169 teams are prepared to resume their scientific research and development under martial law conditions. Only 62 teams can continue their work under specific circumstances, and 50 teams will be unable to continue their research at all [17]. Therefore, the deliberate destruction of educational and scientific institutions provides grounds to label the actions of the Russian Federation as “scientific genocide” against Ukrainian citizens. This is all part of the genocide of the Ukrainian people, aimed at eradicating Ukraine’s intellectual capacity. Ukrainians have been denied access to proper education and science due to the war initiated by the Russian Federation. In conclusion, we call upon the civilized world that upholds democratic principles, the UN, and the International Criminal Court in The Hague! You are observing another genocide and its elements: urbicide, eliticide, linguicide, ecocide, and culturicide of the ancient Ukrainian people living in the heart of Europe. Ukraine has suffered all five legal indicators of genocide as adopted by the Rome Statute during this war. We do not want other European and world countries to experience this horror! We beg you: make strategically correct decisions for the future of humanity, because it may be too late for everyone!

Photo by Spencer Davis on Unsplash ABSTRACT Current conceptions of solidarity impose a morality and sacrifice that did not prevail in the case of COVID-19 vaccine distribution. Notably, the vaccine distribution disparity revealed that when push came to shove, in the case of global distribution, self-interested persons reached inward rather than reaching out, prioritized their needs, and acted to realize their self-interest. Self-interest and loyalty to one’s own group are natural moral tendencies. For solidarity to be normatively relevant in difficult and emergency circumstances, solidarity scholars ought to leverage the knowledge of the human natural tendency to prioritize one’s own group. This paper recommends a nonexclusive approach to solidarity that reflects an understanding of rational self-interest but highlights commonalities among all people. A recommended task for future studies is to articulate what the account of solidarity informed by loyalty to the group would look like. INTRODUCTION The distribution of COVID-19 vaccines raises concerns about the normative relevance of the current conceptions of solidarity. Current conceptions of solidarity require individuals to make sacrifices they will reject in difficult and extreme situations. To make it more relevant in difficult situations, there is a need to rethink solidarity in ways that align with natural human dispositions. The natural human disposition or tendency is to have loyalty to those to whom one relates, to those in one’s own group (by race, ethnicity, neighborhood, socioeconomic status, etc.), or to those in one’s location or country. While some may contend that such natural dispositions should be overcome through moral enhancement,[1] knowledge about self-interest ought to be leveraged to reconceptualize solidarity. Notably, for solidarity to be more relevant in emergencies characterized by shortages, solidarity ought to take natural human behaviors seriously. This paper argues that rather than seeing solidarity as a collective agreement to help others out of a common interest or purpose, solidarity literature must capitalize on human nature’s tendency toward loyalty to the group. One way to do this is by expanding the group to the global community and redefining solidarity to include helping the human race when emergencies or disasters are global. The first section describes the current conception of solidarity, altruism, and rational self-interest. The second section discusses how the moral imperative to cooperate by reaching out to others did not lead to equitable COVID-19 vaccine distribution. The third section argues that solidarity should be rethought to align with natural human dispositions toward loyalty to groups and rational self-interest. The final section briefly suggests the global community be the group for nonexclusive solidarity. I. Solidarity: Understanding Its Normative Imperatives Solidarity literature is vast and complex, attracting contributions from authors from countries of all income levels.[2] Notably, the literature addresses how solidarity develops from interpersonal, then group to institutional, and how it is motivated and maintained at different levels.[3] Solidarity is unity among people with a shared interest or goal.[4] The term was popularized during an anti-communist labor movement in Poland.[5] While a show of solidarity traditionally meant solidarity within a group, for example, workers agreeing with and supporting union objectives and leaders,[6] it has come to include sympathy/empathy and action by those outside the group who stand with those in need. In bioethics, the Nuffield Council defines solidarity as “shared practices reflecting a collective commitment to carry financial, social, emotional, and or other ‘costs’ to assist others.”[7] As conceptualized currently, solidarity prescribes a morality of cooperation and may incorporate altruism. Solidaristic actions like aiding others or acting to enhance the quality of others’ lives are often motivated by emotive connections/relations. For this reason, Barbara Prainsack and Alena Buyx define solidarity as “a practice by which people accept some form of financial, practical, or emotional cost to support others to whom they consider themselves connected in some relevant respect.”[8] Although this description has been critiqued, the critics[9] do not deny that sympathy and understanding are the bases for “standing up beside” or relating to others. Political solidarity is a “response to injustice, oppression, or social vulnerability”[10] and it entails a commitment to the betterment of the group. “Rational self-interest” describes when parties behave in ways that make both parties better off.[11] They may be partly motivated by their own economic outcome. It may be that when some regions or groups act solidaristically, they are also motivated by shared economic goals.[12] Rational self-interest is not always opposed to the commitment to collectively work for the group’s good. Rational self-interest can intersect with collective action when parties behave in ways that make both parties better off. For example, one study found that individuals are willing to bear the burden of higher taxes in favor of good education policies that significantly increase their opportunities to have a good life.[13] Rationally self-interested persons may be partly motivated by their own economic outcome. It may be that when some regions or groups act solidaristically, they are also motivated by shared economic goals.[14] Specifically, individuals, organizations, and governments are driven to positively identify with or aid others because they feel connected to them, share the same interest, or would benefit from the same action. Cooperating with others on this basis guarantees their interests. Individuals will be less likely to help those with whom they do not feel connected. Respect, loyalty, and trust among solidary partners are equally grounded in this belief. “[S]olidarity involves commitment, and work as well as the recognition that even if we do not have the same feeling, or the same lives, or the same bodies, we do live on common grounds.”[15] Although individuals are more likely to exhibit solidarity with those to whom they feel connected, their lives and interests are still different. Some African philosophers describe solidarity as entailing reciprocal relations and collective responsibility.[16] The bases for positively acting to benefit others are communal relations and individual flourishing, similar to solidarity as it is described in the global literature. Common motifs and maxims typify this belief: the West African motifs like the Siamese Crocodile and the African maxims like “the right arm washes the left hand and the left arm washes the right arm”, and the Shona phrases “Kukura Kurerwa” and “Chirere chichazo kurerawo” ­– both meaning the group’s development is vital for the individual’s development.[17] As a reciprocal relation, solidaristic actions are instrumentalized for one’s self-affirmation or self-emergence. This view underlies practices in Africa like letsema, which is an agricultural practice where individuals assist each other in harvesting their farm produce. It is also the animating force underlying a favorable disposition towards joint ventures like the ajo (an African contributing saving scheme whereby savings are shared among contributors by rotation).[18] Furthermore, as entailing collective ownership, solidaristic actions become ways of affirming each other’s destiny because it is in one’s best interest to cooperate with them this way or help others realize their life goals given the interconnectedness of lives. One advantage of forming solidary union that reaches out to others is that they possess qualities and skills that one lacks. This application of solidarity is more localized than solidarity among countries or global institutions. Furthermore, solidarity also entails altruism, an idea that is particularly common in the philosophical literature of low-income countries. On this account, solidarity implies a voluntary decision to behave in ways that make individuals better off for their own sake. Here, it matters only that some have thought about solidarity this way. Moreover, this belief informs pro-social behaviors – altruism is acting solely for the good of others.[19] Altruistic behaviors are motivated by empathy, which is an acknowledgement of individuals who require aid, and sensitivity, which is a thoughtful response to individuals in need of help. Solidarity can seem to be a call to help strangers rather than a genuine feeling of uniting with people for a common cause. Altruism and solidarity appear similar although they are distinct in that solidarity is not merely helping others. It is helping others out of a feeling of unity. In some cultures in Africa, an indifference to the needs of others or a failure to act solely in ways that benefit others or society are often considered an exhibition of ill will.[20] Precisely, the phrases “Kukura Kurerwa” and “Chirere chichazo kurerawo” among the Shona people in Southern Africa morally compel one to play an active role in the growth and improvement of others. “The core of improving others’ well-being,” as explained, “is a matter of meeting their needs, not merely basic ones but also those relevant to higher levels of flourishing, e.g. being creative, athletic, theoretical.”[21] On this basis, self-withdrawal, self-isolation, and unilateralism, would be failures to be solidaristic. II. COVID-19 Vaccine Distribution Disparity And The Imperative To Reach Out The strength and benefits of cooperation are well documented. COVID-19 vaccine distribution did not reflect solidarity despite the use of rhetoric suggesting it. COVID-19 vaccine distribution disparity exemplifies how solidarity requires individuals to make sacrifices that they will refuse under challenging circumstances. Solidaristic rhetoric was not uncommon during the COVID-19 pandemic. This was expressed through maxims like “Stronger together”, “No one is safe until everyone is safe”, “We are all in this together”, and “Flatten the curve”, as well as cemented through actions like physical distancing, mask-wearing, travel restrictions, and limits on social gatherings. Before the pandemic, solidarity rhetoric informed alliances like the Black Health Alliance that was created to enable Black people in Canada to access health resources. This rhetoric and the global recognition of the vital importance of exhibiting solidarity had little if any impact on preventing vaccine distribution disparity. Notably, the World Health Organization set a goal of global vaccination coverage of 70 percent. The 70 percent figure was recognized as key for ending the pandemic, preventing the emergence of new variants, and facilitating global economic recovery.[22] The solidaristic rhetoric that no country was safe until all countries were safe did not result in enough vaccine distribution. Nor did the rational self-interest of common economic goals. The economic impact of the pandemic has been huge for most nations, costing the global community more than $2 trillion.[23] Vaccine distribution disparity across countries and regions undermined international efforts to end the COVID-19 pandemic. The disparity revealed that self-interested persons, organizations, and countries reached inward, prioritized their needs, and acted to realize their own self-interest. Empirical studies confirmed the disparity at the macro and micro levels. Some of the findings are worth highlighting. The number of vaccine doses injected in high-income countries was 69 times higher than that in low-income countries.[24] In fact, the UK had doubly vaccinated about 75 percent of its adult population by February 2022, while more than 80 percent of African nations had not received a single dose of the vaccine.[25] Precisely, the national uptake of vaccines in Uganda (which is a low-income economy without COVID-19 production capacity) was “6 percent by September 2021 and 63 percent by June 2022. The vaccination coverage in the country was 2 percent by September 2021 and 42 percent by June 2022. Yet both the national COVID-19 vaccination uptake and coverage were far below WHO targets for these dates.[26] Although a report which assessed the impact of COVID-19 vaccines in the first of year of vaccination showed that about 19 million COVID-19-related deaths were averted, they were mainly in the high-income countries rather than in countries that failed to reach the vaccine coverage threshold for preventing the emergence of new variants.[27] There were more than 250,000 COVID-related deaths in African countries.[28] Though this figure is significantly lower than reported COVID-19 deaths in North America (1.6 million), the report and other studies confirm that many of the deaths in Africa could have been prevented if the vaccines had been widely distributed in the region. [29] Still at the macro level, whereas 78 percent of individuals in high-income countries were vaccinated by February 15, 2022, only 11 percent of persons in low-income countries were vaccinated by the same date.[30] By February 15, 2022, high-income countries like Lithuania and Gibraltar (a UK territory) had more than 300 percent of doses required for vaccinating their population, while low-income countries in Africa had only managed to secure about 10 percent of the necessary vaccine doses for their people. Burundi had vaccinated less than 1 percent of its population by December 2022. The disparity between countries of similar income levels was also evident. For example, among 75 low- and middle-income countries, only about 14 countries reported vaccinating at least 50 percent of their population. And, while high-income countries like Qatar had secured more than 105 percent of doses for their people, other high-income countries like Liechtenstein had only managed about 67 percent vaccination coverage by December 2022.[31] Within countries, vaccination coverage gaps were also evident between urban and rural areas, with the former having higher vaccination coverage than the latter.[32] There were many tangible solidaristic efforts to cooperate or reach out through schemes like the COVID-19 Vaccines Global Access (COVAX), African Vaccine Acquisition Trust (AVAT) and Technology Access Pool (C-TAP). Notably, the schemes were testaments of the global recognition to lift others as we rise and not leave anyone behind. Both high-income and low- and middle-income countries supported the programs as an expression of solidarity. Indeed, many low- and middle-income countries secured about 800 million doses through these schemes by the end of December 2021. Nonetheless, this was still far below these countries’ two-billion-dose target by the same date. The wealthier countries’ rhetoric of support did not lead to delivery of enough vaccines. The support by high-income countries seems disingenuous. While high-income countries at first allocated vaccines carefully and faced shortages, they had plentiful supplies before many countries had enough for their most vulnerable people. Thus, these schemes did very little to ensure the well-being of people in low- and middle-income countries that relied on them. These schemes had many shortcomings. For example, COVAX relied on donations and philanthropy to meet its delivery targets. In addition, despite their support for these schemes, many high-income countries hardly relied on them for their COVID-19 vaccine procurement. Instead, these high-income countries made their own private arrangements. In fact, high-income countries relied on multilateral agreements and direct purchases to secure about 91 percent of their vaccines.[33] These solidaristic underfunded schemes had to compete to procure vaccines with the more highly resourced countries. Arguably, many factors were responsible for the uneven distribution of COVID-19 vaccines. For example, vaccine production sites facilitated vaccine nationalism whereby countries prioritized their needs and enabled host states like the UK to stockpile vaccines quickly. Regions without production hubs, like many places in Africa, experienced supply insecurity.[34] The J & J-Aspen Pharmacare deal under which a South African facility would produce the J&J COVID vaccine did not improve the local supply.[35] Companies sold vaccines at higher than the cost of production despite pledges by many companies to sell COVID-19 vaccines at production cost. AstraZeneca was the only company reported to have initially sold vaccines at cost until it replaced this with tiered pricing in late 2021.[36] Moderna estimated a $19 billion net profit from COVID-19 vaccine sales by the end of 2021. Pricing practices undermined solidaristic schemes designed to help low-income countries access the doses required for their populations.[37] The unwillingness of Western pharmaceutical companies like Johnson and Johnson, Pfizer-BioNTech, and Moderna to temporarily relinquish intellectual property rights or transfer technology that would have eased vaccine production in low-income countries that lacked production capabilities even when taxpayers’ money or public funding accelerated about 97 percent of vaccine discovery is another example of acting without solidarity. South Africa and India proposed the transfer of essential technological information about COVID-19 vaccines to them to increase local production.[38] The EU, UK, and Germany, which host many of these pharmaceutical companies, opposed the technology transfers.[39] Corporations protected their intellectual property and technology for profits. There were many other factors, like vaccine hoarding. Although the solidaristic rhetoric suggested a global community united to help distribute the vaccine, COVID-19 vaccine distribution demonstrates that individuals, institutions, regions, or states will prioritize their needs and interests. This leads to the question, “What sort of behaviors can reasonably be expected of individuals in difficult situations? In what ways can solidarity be re-imagined to accommodate such behaviors? Ought solidarity be re-imagined to accommodate such actions? III. COVID-19 Vaccine Disparity: Lessons For Solidarity Literature COVID-19 vaccine distribution disparity has been described as inequitable and immoral.[40] One justification for the negative depiction is that it is irresponsible of individual states or nations to prioritize their own needs over the global good, especially when realizing the global interest is necessary for ensuring individual good. Although such contributions to the ethical discourse on COVID-19 vaccine disparity are essential, they could also distract attention from vital conversations concerning how and why current solidarity conceptions can better reflect core human dispositions. To clarify, the contestation is not that solidaristic acts of reaching out to others are morally unrealistic or non-realizable. There are historical examples of solidarity, particularly to end a common affliction or marginalization. An example is the LGBT support of HIV/AIDS-infected persons based on their shared identities to confront and end the stigma, apathy, and homophobia that accompanied the early years of the crisis.[41] Equally, during the apartheid years in South Africa, Black students formed solidarity groups as a crucial racial response to racism and oppression by the predominantly White government.[42] Additionally, the World Health Organization’s (WHO) director, Tedros Ghebreyesus cited solidarity and its rhetoric as the reason for the resilience of societies that safely and efficiently implemented restrictive policies that limited COVID-19 transmission. To improve its relevance to emergencies, solidarity ought to be reconceptualized considering COVID-19 vaccine distribution. As demonstrated by the COVID-19 vaccine distribution disparity, individuals find it difficult to help others in emergencies and share resources given their internal pressing needs. Moreover, humans have a natural tendency to take care of those with whom they identify. That may be by country or region, race, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, type of employment, or other grouping. By extension, the morality that arises from the tendency towards “the tribe” is sometimes loyalty to one’s broader group. Evidence from human evolutionary history, political science, and psychology yields the claim that “tribal [morality] is a natural and nearly ineradicable feature of human cognition, and that no group—not even one’s own—is immune.”[43] Tribal morality influences mantras like America First, South Africans Above Others, or (arguably) Brexit. These conflict with solidarity. As another global example, climate change concerns are not a priority of carbon’s worst emitters like the US, China, and Russia. In fact, in 2017, the US pulled out of the Paris Agreement, a tangible effort to rectify the climate crisis.[44] Droughts experienced by indigenous people in Turkana, the melting ice experienced by the Inuit, the burning bush experienced by the aboriginal Australians, and the rise in ocean levels that remain a constant threat to the Guna are examples of the harm of the changing climate. In the case of climate action, it appears that governments prioritize their self-interests or the interests of their people, over cooperation with governments of places negatively impacted. In the instance of COVID-19 vaccine distribution disparity, loyalty to the group was evident as states and countries kept vaccines for their own residents. Solidarity has a focus on shared interests and purpose, but in its current conceptions it ignores human nature’s loyalty to groups. In emergencies that involve scarcity, solidarity needs to be redefined to address the impulse to keep vaccines for one’s own country’s population and the choice to sell vaccines to the highest bidder. For solidarity to be normatively relevant in difficult and emergency circumstances, solidarity scholars ought to leverage the knowledge of human natural tendency to prioritize one’s own group to rethink this concept. IV. Rethinking Solidarity For Challenging Circumstances In the globalized world, exhibiting solidarity with one another remains intrinsically valuable. It makes the world better off. But the challenge remains ensuring that individuals can exhibit solidarity in ways that align with their natural instincts. Rather than helping those seen as other, or behaving altruistically without solidarity, people, governments, and organizations should engage in solidarity to help others and themselves as part of the global community. A rational self-interest approach to solidarity is similar, while altruism is distinguishable. Solidarity can be expanded to apply when the human race as a whole is threatened and common interests prevail, sometimes called nonexclusive solidarity.[45] That is distinguished from altruism as solidarity involves seeing each other as having shared interests and goals – the success of others would lead to the success of all. For example, cleaner air or limiting the drivers of human-made climate change would benefit all. Warning the public, implementing social distancing and masking, and restricting travel are examples of global goals that required solidaristic actions to benefit the human race.[46] Arguably, this conception of solidarity could apply to a scarce resource, like the COVID-19 vaccine. Notably, the solidarity rhetoric that this gives rise to is that COVID-19 vaccine equitable distribution is a fight for the human race. Solidarity has been applied to scarcity and used to overcome deprivation due to scarcity. In the case AIDS/HIV, there were many arguments and then programs to reduce drug prices and to allocate and condoms to countries where the epidemic was more pronounced and continuing to infect people. Similarly, a solidarity-inspired effort led to treatments for resistant tuberculosis.[47] Summarily, I suggest that we cannot tackle global health problems without exhibiting solidarity with one another. Humans can exhibit solidarity in ways that align with their natural instincts. To do this, nonexclusive solidarity described in this section, is required. Although the nonexclusive solidarity recognizes difference, it avoids the “logic of competition that makes difference toxic.”[48] Without necessarily requiring every country's leaders to prioritize global citizens equally, the nonexclusive solidarity at least, prohibits forms of competition that undermine initiatives like COVAX from securing the required vaccines to reach the vaccine coverage target. CONCLUSION COVID-19 vaccine distribution disparity does not create a new problem. Instead, it reveals an existing concern. This is the disconnect between dominant human psychological makeup and the sort of solidarity expounded in current literature or solidaristic actions. Notably, it reveals a failure of current solidarity conceptions to reflect the natural human tendency to prioritize the interests of one’s own group. As such, the disparity requires rethinking or reconceptualization of solidarity in ways that align with the dominant human tendency. As conceptualized currently, solidarity enjoins a form of morality that many found very difficult to adhere to during the COVID-19 pandemic. Notably, they perceived solidarity as a call to help strangers. Humans are linked by something that is far more important than a relationship between strangers. The unbreakable bond among humans that this idea gives rise to would necessitate genuine concern for each other’s well-being since we are implicated in one another's lives. The exact ways a conception of solidarity that applies to the global community can inform guidelines and policies in emergencies and difficult situations when individuals are expected to be solidaristic is a recommended task for future studies. - [1] Ingmar Persson & Julian Savulescu 2019. The Duty to be Morally Enhanced. Topoi, 38, 7-14. [2] M. Inouye 2023. On Solidarity, Cambridge, MA, Boston Review. [3] Barbara Prainsack & Alena Buyx 2011. Solidarity. Reflections on an Emerging Concept in Bioethics. Summary. [4] Oxford Languages (“unity or agreement of feeling or action, especially among individuals with a common interest; mutual support within a group.”) [5] Mikolaj Glinski. 2015. The Solidarity Movement: Anti-Communist, Or Most Communist Thing Ever? The Solidarity Movement: Anti-Communist, Or Most Communist Thing Ever?. https://culture.pl/en/article/the-solidarity-movement-anti-communist-or-most-communist-thing-ever. [6] Carola Frege, Edmund Heery & Lowell Turner 2004. 137The New Solidarity? Trade Union Coalition-Building in Five Countries. In: FREGE, C. & KELLY, J. (eds.) Varieties of Unionism: Strategies for Union Revitalization in a Globalizing Economy. Oxford University Press. [7] Barbara Prainsack & Alena Buyx 2011. Solidarity. Reflections on an Emerging Concept in Bioethics. Summary. [8] Prainsack & Buyx, 2017. [9] Angus Dawson & Bruce Jennings 2012. The Place of Solidarity in Public Health Ethics. Public Health Reviews, 34, 4. [10] Sally J. Scholz 2008. 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S., AUSTIN, S. D. W. & EDMONDS, K. (eds.) Beyond Racial Capitalism: Co-operatives in the African Diaspora. Oxford University Press. [19] Estrella Gualda 2022. Altruism, Solidarity and Responsibility from a Committed Sociology: Contributions to Society. The American Sociologist, 53, 29-43. [20] Ewuoso, Obengo & Atuire 2022. [21] T. Metz 2015. An African theory of social justice. In: BIOSEN, C. & MURRAY, M. (eds.) Distributive Justice Debates in Political and Social Thought: Perspectives on Finding a Fair Share. New York: Routledge. [22] Victoria Pilkington, Sarai Mirjam Keestra & Andrew Hill 2022. Global COVID-19 Vaccine Inequity: Failures in the First Year of Distribution and Potential Solutions for the Future. Frontiers in Public Health, 10. [23] M. Hafner, E. Yerushalmi, C. Fays, E. Dufresne & C. Van Stolk 2022. COVID-19 and the Cost of Vaccine Nationalism. Rand Health Q, 9, 1. [24] Mohsen Bayati, Rayehe Noroozi, Mohadeseh Ghanbari-Jahromi & Faride Sadat Jalali 2022. 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African dashboard for tracking the COVID-19 in real-time. https://www.arcgis.com/apps/dashboards/b959be51c0014845ad44142bce1b68fe [29] Jai K. Das, Hsien Yao Chee, Sohail Lakhani, Maryam Hameed Khan, Muhammad Islam, Sajid Muhammad & Zulfiqar A. Bhutta 2023. COVID-19 Vaccines: How Efficient and Equitable Was the Initial Vaccination Process? Vaccines, 11, 11. O. J. Watson, G. Barnsley, J. Toor, A. B. Hogan, P. Winskill & A. C. Ghani 2022. Global impact of the first year of COVID-19 vaccination: a mathematical modelling study. Lancet Infect Dis, 22, 1293-1302. [30] Pilkington, Keestra & Hill 2022. [31] Kunyenje, et al. 2023. [32] Pilkington, Keestra & Hill 2022. [33] Jai K. Das, Hsien Yao Chee, Sohail Lakhani, Maryam Hameed Khan, Muhammad Islam, Sajid Muhammad & Zulfiqar A. Bhutta 2023. COVID-19 Vaccines: How Efficient and Equitable Was the Initial Vaccination Process? Vaccines, 11, 11. [34] Kunyenje, et al. 2023. [35] Lynsey Chutel. 2022. Africa's first COVID-19 vaccine factory hasn't received a single order. Africa's first COVID-19 vaccine factory hasn't received a single order. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/05/12/world/africa/south-africa-covid-vaccine-factory.html [36] Graham Dutfield, Siva Thambisetty, Aisling Mcmahon, Luke Mcdonagh & Hyo Kang 2022. Addressing Vaccine Inequity During the COVID-19 Pandemic: The TRIPS Intellectual Property Waiver Proposal and Beyond. Cambridge Law Journal, 81. [37] Dutfield, et al. [38] Hannah Balfour. June 17, 2022 2022. WTO waives intellectual property rights for COVID-19 vaccines. European Pharmaceutical Review https://www.europeanpharmaceuticalreview.com/news/172329/breaking-news-wto-waives-intellectual-property-rights-for-covid-19-vaccines/ [39] Government Uk. 2021. UK statements to the TRIPS Council: Item 15 waiver proposal for COVID-19. UK statements to the TRIPS Council: Item 15 waiver proposal for COVID-19 . https://www.gov.uk/government/news/uk-statement-to-the-trips-council-item-15 [40] Victoria Pilkington, Sarai Mirjam Keestra & Andrew Hill 2022. Global COVID-19 Vaccine Inequity: Failures in the First Year of Distribution and Potential Solutions for the Future. Frontiers in Public Health, 10. [41] Benjamin Klassen 2021. ‘Facing it Together’: Early Caregiving Responses to Vancouver's HIV/AIDS Epidemic. Gender & History, 33, 774-789. [42] Mabogo P. More 2009. Black solidarity: A philosophical defense. Theoria: J Soc and Pol Theory, 56, 20-43. [43] Cory J. Clark, Brittany S. Liu, Bo M. Winegard & Peter H. Ditto 2019. Tribalism Is Human Nature. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 28, 587-592. [44] Hai-Bin Zhang, Han-Cheng Dai, Hua-Xia Lai & Wen-Tao Wang 2017. U.S. withdrawal from the Paris Agreement: Reasons, impacts, and China's response. Advances in Climate Change Research, 8, 220-225. [45] Arto Laitinen & Anne Birgitta Pessi 2014. Solidarity: Theory and Practice. An Introduction. In: LAITINEN, A. & PESSI, A. B. (eds.) Solidarity: Theory and Practice. Lexington Books. [46] X. Li, W. Cui & F. Zhang 2020. Who Was the First Doctor to Report the COVID-19 Outbreak in Wuhan, China? J Nucl Med, 61, 782-783. [47] Atuire, C. A., & Hassoun, N. 2023. Rethinking solidarity towards equity in global health: African views. International journal for equity in health, 22(1), 52. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12939-023-01830-9 [48] Samo Tomšič 2022. No Such Thing as Society? On Competition, Solidarity, and Social Bond. differences, 33, 51-71.