Those of us living in the era of COVID-19 who are experiencing a challenge none of us have experienced in our lifetimes are understandably drawn to histories of other pandemics. The most common parallel is probably the 1918 Spanish flu. I turned for my reading instead to this history of smallpox more out of convenience than anything – I had read much of it several years ago, and the book still sat on my shelf. I was originally drawn to the topic because smallpox is really the granddaddy of infectious diseases. It’s possibly changed human history as much as any other disease, and thanks to Jenner, the field of immunology really started with smallpox. But while other aspects of variola make it very different from COVID, its history still offers the modern reader much more perspective than one might otherwise imagine.
And this history is actually a lot narrower than I realized when I bought the book. The subtitle of the book, “An American History,” is a bit misleading; it only covers a brief time period, more or less the Progressive Era. It barely acknowledges the role smallpox played in the decimation of Native American populations. It doesn’t cover the mid-century eradication efforts. But what it lacks in temporal breadth it more than makes up for in depth of social and legal insight.
This is the story of a largely forgotten American smallpox epidemic that killed relatively few people but left a surprisingly deep impression on society, government, and the law.
The book has a lot to say about race and class, social standing and culture in the United States. It demonstrates well the roots of anti-vaccination sentiment. It focuses on the evolution and development of public health in this country. And it helps explain the limits of federal control when it comes to handling public health crises. In essence, the failures of smallpox control in that time were much more a product of social dissent and political failure than a scientific failure. Anyone who may be frustrated by our societal inability to exact a coordinated response to a global epidemic will easily see those parallels in these pages, despite the obvious situational and temporal differences from COVID.
One thing I was unprepared for was the degree to which I would sympathize with the anti-vaccinationists of the era. Our modern understanding of vaccination holds that the practice is very safe and painless, and that’s largely true today because of 20th Century advancements. [I loved this line about anti-vaccinationists: As the Birmingham, Alabama-based Southern Medical Journal lamented in 1921, ‘All the fools are not dead yet.’] But in those days, vaccination was unregulated and even safe smallpox vaccination left a painful inflammation. In one instance, more than 5000 Confederate soldiers were vaccinated from the arm of a soldier who had syphilis. A dozen kids in Camden, New Jersey, were killed from vaccine tainted with tetanus. And people who regularly had reason to fear the government – African Americans and immigrants – were especially reticent to comply with government action during an outbreak. If you were a black citizen at the turn of the last century, would you trust a white doctor, or worse, a white public health official?
If the smallpox epidemics at the end of the century had shown anything, it was that democratic institutions and the political communities they governed often moved slowly, especially when official claims to expertise and visions of social control collided with the interests, beliefs, and values of the people.
One aspect of smallpox I had been completely unaware of before I’d read this book was the ‘mild form’ of the disease, variola minor, which killed less than 1% of those infected. It was especially difficult to get the public to comply with vaccination efforts when the outbreak involved the much less virulent form of the disease.
From a public health perspective, though, the most dangerous thing about mild type smallpox was that it did not lay people low enough. Some people recovered without ever taking to their beds. … Contagious men and women worked in the fields and factories, ran grocery stores, and mingled in the crowd on court day.
In those cases, a person wouldn’t have to be deeply distrustful of government or be an avowed libertarian to want to avoid vaccination.
Again, I wouldn’t aim to draw too close the parallels between the fight to contain smallpox circa 1900 versus the efforts to contain COVID in 2020. Obviously, no viable vaccine exists as the recent epidemic is wreaking havoc. But in many ways, public health officials are fighting the same battles. In both periods of history, people want to scapegoat foreign influences, outsiders and marginal figures. In both periods, constitutional principles are put to the test. Uncompromising individualism is pitted against social intervention. Social cleavages and inequalities are laid bare. Risk to public health and freedom of movement are challenged.
Of course, if it’s 100 years in the past, it makes for great academic fodder and great drama. If it’s happening more immediately, it’s just a punch to the gut.