Mexico is facing a major measles outbreak, prompting a large-scale vaccination campaign aimed at reaching 2.5 million people weekly.
Throughout the capital, QR codes are prominently displayed on posters for citizens to easily find local vaccination sites.
Nurses are going door-to-door, and makeshift vaccination stations are popping up in various locations, including bakeries, bus stations, cinemas, and shopping malls. WhatsApp groups are buzzing with updates about waiting times at different centers.
“People were really anxious,” says Erica Briones Chavez, a nurse in the Chapultepec neighborhood. “For a few months, we were administering two to three hundred vaccines daily — to mothers, fathers, teens, and even babies. Grandparents wanted to get vaccinated too.” Some individuals waited in line for up to two hours.
While some infectious disease experts praise the initiative, others are skeptical. Sergio Meneses Navarro, a researcher at Mexico’s National Institute of Public Health, contends that the approach lacks focus: “It’s a massive response, but it’s inefficient,” he remarks. “We need to prioritize the most vulnerable areas and populations.”
Are the lines still long?
The vaccination campaign remains at an urgent level, yet the situation appears to be shifting.
Nurses at the Chapultepec center have noticed a decline in interest for vaccinations. Likewise, pop-up clinics are becoming less frequent. At one site, a train station, manager Horacio commented, “Sometimes they show up, sometimes they don’t. And when they run out of vaccines, they close early.”
The outbreak originated from just north of the border.
Last year, a 9-year-old Mennonite child from Chihuahua became ill after visiting relatives in Texas. This led to outbreaks among Mexico’s largely unvaccinated Mennonite communities, estimated at 40,000 in Chihuahua and about 70,000 across the country. These communities mostly emigrated from Russia to Canada and then to Mexico in the 1920s.
The low vaccination rates within these groups, combined with inconsistent coverage across the country, fueled a national outbreak.
Measles is known to be highly contagious, easily transmitting through airborne droplets and potentially infecting up to 90% of unvaccinated individuals nearby. It can be spread four days before symptoms show, which may include cold-like symptoms, a rash, or white spots in the mouth. Although most recover within ten days, measles can be fatal for children under five or those with weakened immune systems.
Since January of last year, Mexico has reported over 36,000 suspected cases — with nearly 15,000 confirmed and 35 fatalities. The government provides daily updates.
“Measles is not a relic of the past; it’s a disease we can prevent with technology,” states Sergio Meneses Navarro.
However, administering the vaccines poses its own challenges, as two doses are required, spaced at least a month apart.
Meneses Navarro notes that Mexico’s measles vaccination rates have fallen below 95%, the threshold needed for herd immunity. Societal disparities exacerbate these issues, as less affluent communities experience lower vaccination rates, delayed outbreak detection, diminished access to healthcare, and inadequate information about infection risks.
From praiseworthy to problematic
Mexico’s vaccination program was once a model for other Latin American nations. In the latter half of the 20th century, it offered universal access to free vaccinations and ran highly visible campaigns that nearly eradicated measles and achieved herd immunity against multiple diseases.
Yet, recent years have seen that progress deteriorate, primarily due to funding reductions, as the government no longer matches health system funding to population growth.
The COVID-19 pandemic further impacted vaccination rates, as many avoided healthcare facilities, unless sick. Consequently, routine vaccinations decreased in the pandemic’s early phase, resulting in a significant immunity gap.
According to a 2023 government survey, only one-third of two-year-olds completed the full schedule of childhood immunizations.
Moreover, it seems Mexico’s success led to complacency. Health policy consultant Beatriz Martínez remarks, “As diseases become less visible, people perceive less risk.”
The TikTok factor
Like many places around the globe, Mexico is also grappling with misinformation and vaccine hesitancy.
Nurses at the public health clinic report an increase in anxiety surrounding vaccines, often fueled by TikTok content.
They are spending considerable time addressing public concerns regarding what people see online, hoping that high-profile campaigns like the measles initiative will reinforce vaccine importance.
However, distrust toward public institutions runs deep in some communities.
“Mexico is a highly stratified society, marked by significant inequalities in income, education, and health,” Meneses Navarro notes.
This inequality often contributes to vaccine hesitancy in rural and indigenous areas where some individuals avoid healthcare services, fearing they may spread illness.
Logistical challenges complicate vaccination efforts in such communities. Certain areas may lack the necessary components like cold storage for vaccines, a reliable supply, and trained personnel.
Furthermore, Mexico lacks a centralized immunization registry, hindering oversight regarding who has been vaccinated and who hasn’t.
“That complicates targeted interventions,” remarks Meneses Navarro, “leading to broad but sometimes ineffective vaccination efforts.”
At the health center in Chapultepec, nurses emphasize the need for more people to come in for their first shot, expressing concern that individuals may not return for the required second dose.
