We shouldn't be surprised that MAHA is winning the messaging war. Right now, "MAHA moms" are standing shoulder to shoulder with the HHS Secretary, effectively dictating health policy in the United States. The movement that began with concerned parents questioning food additives and vaccines has now gained unprecedented institutional power. With their carefully chosen buzzwords and seemingly common-sense arguments, they've captured the public imagination in ways that scientific institutions have consistently failed to do.
And why wouldn't they? The MAHA movement is so appealing because they've tapped into the simplicity of common sense. Why would we want artificial ingredients when we have natural alternatives? Why wouldn't we want to end chronic disease? Why wouldn't we demand the gold standard for vaccine safety testing?
What's particularly frustrating is how MAHA has successfully painted themselves as the first and only group to care about these issues, as if scientists and public health officials haven't been working tirelessly for decades to prevent chronic disease and ensure vaccine safety. They've convinced a significant portion of the public that scientists aren't also parents who care deeply about children's health, that researchers aren't also humans who want safe foods, that doctors aren't also community members invested in the wellbeing of their neighbors. The narrative that scientists are somehow working against public health rather than dedicating their lives to improving it is perhaps MAHA's most damaging rhetorical achievement.
As the HHS page proudly displays, "MAHA wins first 100 days" -- and, in many ways, they have. They've successfully appealed to our parental instincts with common-sense phrases and buzzwords that seem to make so much sense on their face. Who could argue with "making America healthy again"? Who wouldn't want to phase out petroleum-based dyes from our children's food? Who doesn't want transparency in our health agencies?
We recently recorded an episode of the podcast with Dr. Paul Offit (still pinching myself!), and we talked about how public health needs to hire Mother Nature's PR person. (It seems that MAHA has the same PR person!) They've masterfully crafted terminology that resonates emotionally while our scientific language often undermines our own message. Take "natural immunity" versus "vaccine-induced immunity." How could something "induced" ever compete with something "natural"?
Surely natural immunity—evocative of Mother Nature herself gently touching us on the nose to impart protection—is better than a needle shoved into our arm with all its chemicals manufactured in a lab, produced by Big Pharma corporations, right? Heck, sign us up for natural immunity! The language itself stacks the deck against science before the conversation even begins.
(Major shoutout to Dr. Aimee Pugh-Bernard, who has been begging us to stop using the term “natural immunity”— and for good reason!)
Offit brilliantly suggested reframing this as "survivor immunity" – a powerful alternative that acknowledges the risks we endure when Mother Nature has her way with us and we allow pathogens to ravage our bodies. Suddenly the calculus changes. Would you rather have protection through suffering and survival, or through safe prevention? The framing makes all the difference.
At the heart of MAHA's appeal is a false dichotomy between "natural" and "scientific" that simply doesn't exist in reality. They position themselves as champions of nature against the artificial world of science, when in fact science and nature are deeply intertwined. Modern medicine, even pharmaceuticals, is often derived from natural compounds. The scientific method itself is simply our best tool for understanding the natural world. Yet MAHA's messaging creates an artificial divide: natural (good) versus scientific/synthetic (bad). This dichotomy is powerfully effective because it transforms complex scientific issues into simple moral choices, despite being fundamentally misleading.
Meanwhile, science is fighting an uphill battle with its nuance, bioethics, and technical details. By the time a scientist says, "Well, it's actually more complicated than that..." MAHA has already won the messaging war. When scientists explain that some synthetic additives have been extensively tested for safety over decades while some "natural" alternatives haven't been subjected to the same rigorous evaluation, they've already lost the audience.
People have legitimate questions about health interventions: Why does my newborn need a specific vaccine if we're not high-risk? Why did health recommendations change during the pandemic? Why are we skeptical of food additives but not "natural" alternatives that haven't undergone the same testing? These are valid concerns, but when science doesn't show up with clear, empathetic answers, others fill that void with messages that feel more relatable and simple—even when they're scientifically questionable.
The appeal of MAHA isn't just about health policy—it's about feeling heard. These aren't abstract policy debates but often stem from painful, human experiences with healthcare systems that sometimes fail people. When MAHA tells these people "we see you," it's a powerful message that science communicators have often struggled to deliver. (Dr. Katelyn Jetelina did a beautiful job articulating this in a recent newsletter.)
Science doesn't have the luxury of simple messaging because reality isn't simple. The data on food dyes is nuanced—most children aren't adversely affected, but some show sensitivity. Vaccines have rare side effects but prevent far more suffering than they cause. These complexities don't fit on a bumper sticker or make for viral social media.
Our scientific language itself is often our worst enemy. We unwittingly reinforce the false dichotomy between nature and science with our own terminology. When we juxtapose "natural ingredients" with "artificial ingredients," we've already conceded half the battle. When we talk about "synthetic" versus "organic," we're buying into the same oversimplified framework that MAHA exploits. Even when we describe something as "chemical-free" (which is physically impossible, by the way—everything is chemicals!), we're inadvertently validating the harmful framing that chemicals are inherently bad.
The path forward isn't about compromising scientific integrity or oversimplifying complex issues. It's about meeting people where they are, acknowledging their real concerns, and building relationships before diving into the evidence. It's about recognizing that expert consensus means nothing without trust—and trust is earned through listening, not lecturing. And crucially, it's about reclaiming language and framing that doesn't cede the emotional high ground before we've even started the conversation.
MAHA has us beat before we even open our mouths because they understand something fundamental about human communication: people make decisions based on emotions first, evidence second. Until science learns to speak to both, while dismantling the artificial divide between "natural" and "scientific," we'll continue losing this crucial battle for public health. And that starts with examining our own language, recognizing when our terminology unwittingly reinforces harmful dichotomies, and reclaiming the power of simple, emotionally resonant messaging that still honors scientific truth.
The implications of poorly chosen scientific terminology extend far beyond theoretical concerns. Consider another example from our conversation with Dr. Michael Mina (another shameless flex, I know— that episode drops this Wednesday!). We mused about the term "sterilizing immunity," which simply refers to the body's ability to halt viral replication. But unsurprisingly, this scientific terminology has been weaponized by vaccine skeptics who misinterpret it to suggest that vaccines cause STERILIZATION. As in, making people unable to have children. Yikes! Once again, our jargon becomes ammunition for those looking to stoke fear and mistrust.
In 2025, our scientific terminology doesn't just live in journals and conference rooms—it's dissected on social media, debated at dinner tables, and weaponized in political discourse. We're no longer just communicating with colleagues who share our technical vocabulary; we're speaking directly to parents making healthcare decisions, voters shaping policy, and communities trying to navigate conflicting claims. When we cling to technically accurate but emotionally sterile language, we surrender the narrative before the conversation begins. Word choices aren't just semantic preferences—they're the battleground where public trust in science is won or lost. The era of assuming scientific authority grants us the privilege of technical jargon is over; in today's information ecosystem, the scientists who thrive will be those who can translate complexity into clarity without sacrificing truth.
Stay Curious,
Unbiased Science
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There are some valuable insights into effective communication here; but I suspect the issue being addressed would be far less pervasive if lack of education and literacy weren't also such pervasive issues.
MAHA as you called it will be very difficult to reason with as they consider themselves to be their own best knowledge source. Education has failed these people, or the lack of education as seems more realistic.