Ophelia Dahl, co-founder of Partners In Health, on the complexity of equitable health care.
Born to author Roald Dahl and actress Patricia Neal, Ophelia Dahl grew up surrounded by creativity and resilience—qualities that would later shape her own path in a very different arena.
As co-founder of Partners In Health, Dahl has helped establish long-term healthcare infrastructure in countries such as Haiti, Rwanda, and Malawi, focusing not on short-term aid, but on building systems that can endure.
We spoke with Dahl about what shaped her thinking, what the work requires, what health equity means, and the complex challenge of achieving it.
Bryan: Your parents were both remarkable figures in very different ways. What did you inherit from them from a temperamental perspective?
I think I was socialized to believe that solutions were possible.
My father was always trying to fix things, whether it was something small in the garden or something much more serious affecting someone’s life. That mindset seeps into you over time without you even realizing it.
I didn’t fully grasp, as a teenager, what my mother went through with her stroke—how abruptly it upended her life at 39, and the courage it took to return to her work. Only later, after seeing patients in places without even basic care, did I recognize both the scale of her recovery and the privilege of having access to systems that made that recovery possible.
So when I went to Haiti, it genuinely didn’t occur to me that anything was impossible. Not in an arrogant way—just that if something is wrong, you do your best to rectify it.
Bryan: You’ve seen firsthand some of the most grim realities of the human condition. How do you cope with that exposure?
Nothing can prepare you for it.
I think one of the most important things is that you don’t do it alone. Doing difficult work with people you trust, people you respect, people you can laugh with—that makes an enormous difference.
One of the things we were always encouraged to do—particularly by Dr. Paul Farmer—was to stay as close to the work as possible. To not turn away from it.
There are moments when you absolutely want to turn away. You see things and think, “I wish I could unsee that.” But you can’t.
At the same time, you also recognize that what you’re witnessing is someone else’s daily reality that you have the privilege of leaving. They don’t.
So there’s a balance. You have to immerse yourself enough to understand it—because otherwise you can’t communicate it honestly to people back home—but you also have to step back at times, or you won’t be able to continue.
There’s a phrase I’ve always thought about: mercy is being immersed in the chaos of other people’s lives. That feels quite close to what this work asks of you.
Bryan: How do you define health equity?
It’s a problem that resists simple definitions. But fundamentally, it’s about building a world where access to care is not determined by geography or circumstance.
That means recognizing that people are not starting from the same place. Some communities already have access to hospitals, doctors, insurance, and infrastructure. Others may not have even those most basic entry points into care.
So equity isn’t about giving everyone the same thing—it’s about responding to the gap. It’s about making sure that those who have the least access are given the greatest level of attention, investment, and support, so that over time, that imbalance can be corrected.
For us, it has always meant working to ensure that people—regardless of where they live—have access to the fruits of modern medicine. And doing whatever is necessary to build the systems that make that possible, whether that involves training clinicians, strengthening supply chains, working with governments, or addressing the social conditions that shape health in the first place.
Bryan: What is the biggest hurdle in achieving global health equity?
The tendency towards wanting quick solutions. People will say, “What can we do?” and you explain what’s required, and then they say, “Well, what if we just funded this one piece?”
Of course, you can do that—but the problem is that the issue of health equity lives within an ecosystem of other problems.
You can’t provide healthcare without considering water infrastructure and food supply. And once those are in place, it doesn’t stop there—you need education, and then pathways to employment, otherwise the system can’t sustain itself.
You’re not solving for a moment; you’re trying to build something that can hold together long after you’ve stepped away.
Humans like simplicity, but these systems are complex, so addressing them requires the same level of depth and duration.
Bryan: Have you seen that comprehensive approach play out in a way that captures what’s possible?
Yes—there’s one story that I often come back to.
In central Haiti, where we first began working, there was a young woman who came to our clinic with what turned out to be malaria. While she was being treated, we discovered she was pregnant. Without treatment, that would likely have been fatal—for her and the child.
Because there was a functioning clinic, she received care and had access to maternal health services. Her child was born safely and vaccinated.
That child—Bobby—went on to attend medical school. Later, he returned to the same community and became a doctor. Today, he’s training other physicians.
I remember weighing him on a scale we’d brought from the UK to monitor malnutrition levels, and now he’s part of the system that once supported him.
That’s the work. It doesn’t happen quickly, and it doesn’t happen in isolation. But over time, it compounds.
Bryan: In the face of all that chaos, how do you stay grounded?
For me, it’s quite practical.
Exercise is important—not just physically, but because it creates space for thinking. It’s one of the few times when your mind isn’t being pulled in a hundred directions.
And then, of course, family and friends. Cooking, gathering people—those things are incredibly important. They bring you back to something human and immediate.
And ultimately, I think I was also fortunate in how I grew up. There wasn’t a sense that what my parents did was extraordinary—it was just what they did.
So I don’t feel like I’ve had to search too hard for that grounding. It’s always been there in some form.
Bryan: What gives you optimism about the future of global health?
One of the things that excites me most is the next generation.
We’ve been working with the Rwandan government to build the University of Global Health Equity. It’s not just a medical school—it’s designed to train people across the full spectrum of what health systems require: clinicians, policymakers, supply chain experts, technologists.
Students come from across Africa and beyond. Many of them already have experience working in their own countries, and they return with the tools to strengthen those systems from within.
That feels important. Because ultimately, the goal is not to create dependency on organizations like ours. It’s to help build systems that can stand on their own.
And that takes time. But when you see it beginning to happen, even in small ways, it’s incredibly powerful.
There’s a temptation to compartmentalize complex, global problems into bite-sized solutions that feel manageable but often fail to address the bigger picture.
What becomes clear through Ophelia Dahl’s work is that real progress demands the opposite: a willingness to engage with complexity head-on, to resist the instinct to simplify it too quickly, and to remember that the potential for positive change is not in question—only our willingness to stay with the work long enough to make it sustainable.
Bryan Welker lives and breathes business and marketing in the Roaring Fork Valley and beyond. He is President, Co-founder, and CRO of WDR Aspen, a boutique marketing agency that develops tailored marketing solutions. Who should we interview next? Reach out and let us know bryan@wdraspen.com
