The Weaponization of Drugs: The Age of Pharmaceutical Geopolitics
Once, the idea of a lifesaving drug doubling as a geopolitical weapon would have been dismissed as science fiction. Today, it’s a tangible prospect.
In 2018, when the U.S.-China trade war escalated, tariffs on Chinese goods included critical pharmaceutical ingredients. Buried in spreadsheets and diplomatic memos was a warning: the global drug supply chain, long treated as apolitical, had become a point of leverage. The fear then was that China could retaliate by cutting exports of precursors to essential medicines like antibiotics—an act that would instantly cripple downstream production in the U.S. and Europe. The idea seemed paranoid. It wasn’t.
Fast forward to 2023, when India briefly halted exports of several medications during a domestic shortage. The move, though not hostile, rattled major importers. It reminded the world that even allies, when pushed to protect internal stability, would choose sovereignty over supply contracts. These weren’t acts of malice, but they exposed a growing fragility: pharmaceuticals are no longer just products. They’re bargaining chips.
We are entering a new era—one in which drugs, like oil or rare earths, are not merely commercial goods but instruments of statecraft. Health, once a domain of domestic policy and technocratic oversight, is becoming a front line of geopolitics.
This shift is no longer theoretical.
Earlier this year, former U.S. president Donald Trump again floated the idea of purchasing Greenland. A viral spoof followed: what if Denmark, in retaliation, ordered Novo Nordisk—its pharmaceutical jewel—to quintuple the price of Ozempic for U.S. consumers? What began as satire quickly felt like foreshadowing.
In March, Novo Nordisk CEO Lars Fruergaard Jørgensen noted that “geopolitical uncertainty” could affect drug pricing. The message was unmistakable: what used to be driven by market forces may now be dictated by diplomatic posturing. The Ozempic episode captured something larger: the merging of pharmaceutical power with foreign policy logic.
Ozempic, a GLP-1 agonist originally developed for diabetes, has become a global phenomenon in weight loss. Its demand is exploding across the U.S., where millions rely on it to manage chronic illness or shed pounds. Goldman Sachs estimates the GLP-1 market could top $100 billion by 2030. That figure doesn’t just reflect revenue—it reflects dependency.
America does not manufacture Ozempic. Denmark does. In a worldview increasingly shaped by zero-sum diplomacy, that alone qualifies it as a geopolitical lever. Could the U.S. push for domestic production of GLP-1s? Could access to the drug become entangled in negotiations over NATO contributions or Arctic sovereignty? If this sounds outlandish, recall that the Trump administration previously attempted to secure exclusive U.S. access to a German biotech firm’s COVID-19 vaccine.
This is not uncharted territory. History is littered with examples of nations turning supply into strategy. In the 1970s, OPEC weaponized oil to punish Western support for Israel. In 2010, China briefly cut off exports of rare earth minerals to Japan during a territorial dispute—crippling Japan’s tech sector. In 2020, as COVID-19 spread, India restricted hydroxychloroquine exports, prompting a diplomatic scramble by countries including the U.S. The pattern is clear: in moments of crisis, interdependence becomes a vulnerability.
Pharmaceuticals are poised to follow the same path.
Consider insulin. The U.S. imports a significant portion of its insulin precursors from China and India. If Beijing, in a hypothetical Taiwan standoff, throttled exports, the effects would be immediate: shortages, soaring prices, panic. The diabetes drug market is projected to hit $80 billion by 2030—another point of pressure. Even penicillin, once manufactured domestically, now relies heavily on Chinese inputs. If relations deteriorate further, the risks go beyond trade deficits. They threaten health infrastructure.
The Ozempic episode stands out not just because of the drug’s visibility, but because it straddles several domains: health, culture, politics, economics. Its weaponization—real or imagined—signals a new kind of contest. The battlefield is no longer just fought with sanctions and tariffs. It’s waged through pricing decisions, export licenses, supply chain control, and the quiet manipulation of access.
This is not without precedent. In the 18th century, British forces distributed smallpox-infected blankets to Native American tribes. In the 20th century, Japan’s Unit 731 tested biological weapons on Chinese civilians. During the Vietnam War, the U.S. deployed Agent Orange with devastating long-term health consequences. These were overt acts. Today’s battlefield is quieter but no less consequential.
Science, when fused with strategy, becomes weaponry.
As chronic illness becomes the defining burden of aging societies—diabetes, heart disease, cancer—the control of pharmaceuticals translates into power over populations, labor markets, and national morale. In a hypothetical twist, imagine Germany, a biotech powerhouse, pricing a breakthrough cancer drug aggressively during an EU budget standoff. That isn’t science fiction. It’s within reach.
And the shift is accelerating. In 2021, Russia’s Sputnik V vaccine was deployed not just to inoculate, but to influence. It opened doors across Latin America and Africa, reshaping diplomatic alignments through doses rather than deals. If vaccines can extend soft power, why not other therapeutics?
The global pharmaceutical system was not designed for this reality. It was built for liberalized trade, rational supply chains, and regulatory harmonization. That world is gone. We are now living in a geopolitical climate where science is being folded into statecraft, and medicine is part of the negotiation table.
To those of us who long believed that strict regulations were the chief enemy of medical progress, the accelerating shift toward nationalization reveals a new force joining the monopoly pact: the politicization of science without guardrails.
Investors, policymakers, and corporate leaders would do well to wake up to this new paradigm. The idea that science is neutral has always been a convenient myth. It’s time we dropped the pretense.
A weight-loss drug, once seen as a tool of personal transformation, may now transform the balance of power.
Because while Ozempic may shrink waistlines, it’s swelling with geopolitical weight.
This essay builds on themes raised by Gillian Tett in the Financial Times.
This was Trials & Triumphs - On the relentless pursuit of progress at the intersection of scientific breakthroughs and operational reality.
& I am Zina, the founder and CEO of Yendou, a data-powered Site Engagement Platform for Feasibility and Study Startup teams in life sciences. This essay builds on themes raised by Gillian Tett in the Financial Times.
Sincerely,
Zina | Let's Connect on LinkedIn | What is Yendou?
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