Sweet lies and bitter truths by Shanna Shepard

World Diabetes Day is supposed to be a time for awareness, compassion, and solidarity, a day when societies are called to reflect on how far we’ve come in managing one of the most pervasive diseases of our time. But in the United States of America, this year, it feels more like a day of bitter irony. Because while millions of diabetics are struggling to afford insulin that century-old, life-saving drug, prices are climbing again, and guess who’s cheering from the sidelines? Donald Trump, the man who seems to have discovered a miraculous cure for everything except empathy.

Let’s get one thing straight: insulin is not a luxury. It’s not an optional supplement like protein powder or a boutique wellness trend advertised by influencers. It’s the difference between life and death for millions of Americans. Yet in the so-called “land of opportunity,” insulin costs more than a monthly rent in some states. And while families are cutting doses in half to stretch a vial a few more days, Trump is busy striking backroom deals to lower the price of weight-loss drugs, drugs that, conveniently, he himself might find useful.

You can’t make this stuff up. The political theatre is grotesque. The same man who claims to be the champion of the “forgotten American” conveniently forgets about the diabetics every time pharmaceutical lobbyists come knocking with their campaign donations. Under Trump’s “business genius,” insulin prices have not just bounced back from previous caps, they’ve rocketed. The reasoning is always the same tired excuse: “market forces,” “innovation costs,” or “we don’t want to hurt the pharmaceutical industry.” As if Big Pharma were a fragile infant that needs protection rather than a multibillion-dollar behemoth feeding off the misery of ordinary citizens.

But when it comes to drugs that help reduce weight and therefore make for great TV appearances, vanity projects, and political optics, suddenly the government is a benevolent negotiator. Suddenly, Trump knows how to twist the arm of the industry. Suddenly, “making America healthy again” means slimming waistlines, not saving lives. The hypocrisy would be laughable if it weren’t deadly.

There’s something disturbingly theatrical about the whole thing. Trump has always seen politics as performance, a circus where reality bends under the weight of spectacle. And what better spectacle than a self-proclaimed “health reformer” cutting deals for drugs that flatter his image while ignoring those that keep people alive? He plays the role of saviour for his voter base, posing as the man who “stands up to the pharmaceutical elites,” while in truth, he’s making sure the elites never stop cashing in.

It’s not the first time Trump has turned public health into a private transaction. We saw it with the pandemic, where life-saving measures were treated as political loyalty tests. We saw it with healthcare reform, where promises to “replace Obamacare with something beautiful” ended up being as empty as his moral compass. And now we see it again, as diabetics are squeezed dry while he pats himself on the back for cutting deals on Ozempic and Wegovy, the new status symbols for America’s image-obsessed elite.

World Diabetes Day in Trump’s America is not a day of awareness; it’s a day of exposure. It exposes the rot beneath the surface of political populism that dangerous blend of showmanship and cruelty disguised as leadership. Because at the heart of Trumpism lies a simple, brutal truth: if you can’t profit from someone’s suffering, then their suffering doesn’t matter.

And make no mistake, insulin is big money. It’s not just a medication; it’s an industry built on dependence. People can’t choose not to buy it. They can’t switch to a cheaper alternative or “go natural.” The monopoly is total, and the moral vacuum around it even more so. When insulin prices rise, they rise on the backs of parents terrified for their children, on the backs of workers juggling bills and prescriptions, on the backs of elderly Americans forced to ration what keeps them breathing.

Trump’s defenders, of course, will say this is all “fake news,” that the “deep state” or “liberal media” is twisting the facts. They’ll point to his occasional soundbite about “helping people afford their medications” as proof of his compassion. But compassion is not a press release, it’s policy. And his policies, when you strip away the bluster, have consistently favoured profit over people, industry over integrity, and spectacle over substance.

Meanwhile, the pharmaceutical giants are popping champagne. Their stock prices climb every time Trump opens his mouth about “free market solutions.” The same man who claims to fight for the “forgotten men and women” ensures that those men and women remain forgotten when it matters most, at the pharmacy counter, staring at the price of survival.

And let’s not pretend this is just another policy misstep. It’s a reflection of values — or rather, the absence of them. Trumpism is a mirror of everything that’s gone wrong with American politics: the worship of wealth, the glorification of ignorance, and the casual cruelty toward anyone who doesn’t fit the photo-op narrative. The diabetics of America don’t fit that narrative. They’re not glamorous. They don’t make for inspiring campaign rallies. Their suffering doesn’t generate applause.

But it should generate rage. Because there’s something fundamentally obscene about a system where an overweight billionaire can cut deals to make his slimming drugs cheaper while a child with Type 1 diabetes dies because her family can’t afford insulin. It’s not just policy failure, it’s moral bankruptcy. It’s a declaration that vanity has more value than human life.

World Diabetes Day should have been a moment to reaffirm the promise that no one in a civilized nation should die because of corporate greed. Instead, it’s a reminder that in Trump’s America, greed has become the new form of governance. He doesn’t just enable it he embodies it.

So, as politicians issue their hollow statements about “raising awareness” and “supporting patients,” diabetics across the country are left doing the arithmetic of survival. And Trump? He’ll continue playing emperor of his own delusion, slimming down his public image while fattening the wallets of his donors.

The bitter truth is this: in America today, the cost of living with diabetes isn’t just measured in dollars, it’s measured in dignity. And with every rise in insulin prices, that dignity is stripped away a little more, replaced by the sweet, poisonous lie that everything is under control.

World Diabetes Day should sting. It should enrage. Because until the day insulin becomes a right, not a privilege, every slogan about freedom and greatness is just another hollow promise, served with a side of hypocrisy and washed down with Trump’s favourite flavour of self-interest.