Imagine a nation grappling with a silent yet devastating crisis, where fear and stigma overshadow a growing health emergency. Papua New Guinea (PNG) is facing an HIV epidemic that’s spiraling out of control, and the situation is far more complex than most realize. But here’s where it gets even more alarming: despite the urgency, the country is battling not just the virus, but also the withdrawal of critical international aid and deep-rooted societal taboos.
In 1999, Nancy Karipa, a mother from East Sepik in northern PNG, received a life-altering diagnosis: she was HIV-positive, just after giving birth to her first child. “It was a moment of truth, filled with fear and uncertainty, but I chose to fight,” Karipa, now in her 50s, shared at a recent AIDS awareness event in Port Moresby. Her bravery paid off—both she and her child received treatment, and her child remains healthy today. Yet, Karipa’s openness about her experience is rare. The stigma surrounding HIV in PNG is so pervasive that many suffer in silence, making her story a beacon of hope in a sea of despair.
This year, PNG declared HIV a “national crisis,” a move that underscores the gravity of the situation. According to UNAids, the UN agency leading the global fight against HIV/AIDS, PNG’s epidemic is among the fastest-growing in the Asia-Pacific region, alongside Fiji and the Philippines. But here’s the part most people miss: new infections have doubled since 2010, and shockingly, only 59% of those living with the virus even know their status. The surge in infections among women and children is particularly distressing, with mother-to-child transmission rates in PNG being among the highest globally.
“The lack of awareness and testing is fueling this crisis,” explains Manoela Manova, UNAids country director for PNG. “It’s as if the epidemic doesn’t exist in the minds of many—both the public and the political class.” This disconnect is exacerbated by inadequate healthcare infrastructure and a staggering 11,000 new cases reported in 2024 alone, nearly half of which were among children and young adults under 25. Even more heartbreaking, an estimated 2,700 infants were infected last year, largely because their mothers were unaware of their HIV status and didn’t receive antiretroviral therapy (ART) that could have prevented transmission.
But here’s where it gets controversial: the Trump administration’s suspension of U.S. foreign aid earlier this year has dealt a crippling blow to PNG’s HIV response. Hundreds of clinics providing essential services have lost funding, leaving healthcare workers like Rose Marai, a social worker at Kaugere Clinic in Port Moresby, in dire straits. “When the aid stopped, our salaries were withheld, and we were told to shut down,” Marai recalls. “The communities we serve were left stranded.” While some funding has been restored to specific programs, the damage is already done. Is it fair for a nation’s health to hinge so heavily on foreign aid? And what happens when that aid disappears?
The PNG government has stepped in with an emergency response plan, but critics argue it’s not enough. Wep Kanawi, chair of the national AIDS council, emphasizes the need for K45-K50 million (US$10 million) annually to combat the epidemic effectively. Meanwhile, Australia has provided additional funding to keep the UNAids office operational for another two years, but this is a temporary fix. The real question is: Can PNG break free from its reliance on foreign aid and build a sustainable healthcare system?
Foreign Minister Justin Tkatchenko acknowledges the need for a “fallback position,” stating, “We can’t keep depending on donor partners. The long-term strategy is to take charge ourselves.” But with infections surging and resources dwindling, time is running out. What do you think? Is PNG’s crisis a wake-up call for global health equity, or a stark reminder of the limits of international aid? Share your thoughts in the comments—this conversation needs your voice.
