“As the world becomes more of a global village, infectious disease could by natural transmission become more threatening in the United States. Here monitoring is lax because of a mistaken belief that the threat of infectious disease has been almost wiped out by antibiotics.” ― American Medical Association conference on infectious disease, 2001, from Norman F. Cantor, In the wake of the plague, 2001, Harper Collins.

Pandemics and the Roman Empire: From glory to gory

History’s first pandemic, the Antonine Plague, struck in AD 165 at the height of the Roman empire, the time Edward Gibbon described as when “the condition of the human race was most happy and prosperous.” Nobody knew, but the Roman Climate Optimum (RCO) was approaching its end. The RCO was an extremely propitious climatological period (BC 400 – AD 250) that allowed the empire to keep all its ~70 million people well fed and relatively healthy, which led to the development of the greatest army the world had ever seen, and would not see again for more than a thousand years. The Antonine Plague, named for the family of Emperor Pius Antoninus, killed at least seven million of the empire’s people, more than 10% of the population.

The greatest physician of the age was Galen (born AD 129). He treated and cured a number of distinguished Romans and extensively documented the spread of the disease in his masterpiece, The Method of Medicine. He said, “Hippocrates showed the path; I made it passable.” Galen didn’t know what caused the Antonine Plague, but he did know that it spread quickly in densely packed pockets of humanity and less quickly when people stayed away from each other.

The Roman Empire survived the Antonine Plague, its imperial fibers frayed, but not broken. The empire recovered its strength. Relative good health returned. Until AD 249, that is, when the Plague of Cyprian ambushed the empire. The Plague, named for the Christian Bishop from Carthage whose writings document the event, was probably smallpox. The Plague of Cyprian lasted 20 years and, at its height, killed about 5,000 people per day in Rome.

Once again, the empire recovered, but now it was weaker with reduced resources. Moreover, the RCO was steadily ending and climate was beginning to turn unfavorable. Egypt, the empire’s breadbasket, began to experience drought, something that had never happened during the RCO. This time, the empire dissolved into anarchy and saw the emergence of the “barracks emperors,” who righted the ship of state once more – for a time. But now, disease was always just over the horizon.

In AD 378, the Roman army suffered its worst defeat ever at Adrianople where 20,000 soldiers were killed, a terrible loss of life, but tiny compared to plague deaths. In 410, the Visigoths sacked the city, the first time an enemy army had ever been inside the the Roman walls. Rome was heading inexorably toward its ruin.

In AD 541, the Justinian Plague landed the knockout punch for the Roman Empire. This greatest of pandemics, until then, anyway, was the pandemic of yersinia pestis, the agent that causes bubonic plague, and it lingered off and on for 200 years. That was when Rome descended into a high-end, Byzantine rump state, its former glory a distant memory. Roman records show the city inhabited by one million people during the time of Marcus Aurelius in AD 165, now housed about 20,000. The world would not see another million person city until London at the end of the 17th century.

Where did all the disease come from? Until the Antonine Plague, Rome had never been struck on such a grand scale. Today, experts believe it hitched a ride with people who travelled more and more in a vast empire. For example, the Justinian Plague is thought to have originated in China, making its way to Rome through trade. Just like today.

The Romans didn’t have the scientifically designed medical therapies to combat infectious disease. But even then mitigation efforts were aimed at running from the disease, creating separation, wherever it manifested. For example, in AD 452 Attila the Hun was plundering all of Italy on his way to Rome, whose soldiers were powerless against him. But then, confounding the Romans, he stopped, decamped and headed for the high ground of the Alps. Why? To get away from the anopheles mosquito. Malaria was suddenly killing his men and his horses. Which proves germs were better at killing than soldiers.

The Black Death of the Middle Ages

In the 14th century, bubonic plague (and probably anthrax, too) struck again causing the greatest pandemic the world has ever seen. The population of England was reduced by ~50% and did not recover until about 1800.

At that time, Edward III, King of England, Wales and one-third of France, was poised to add Spain to his conquests by marrying his 15-year-old daughter, Princess Joan, to Spain’s Prince Pedro. The marriage would change the face of Europe and give Edward control over most of the continent. The year was 1348, and bubonic plague struck as Joan and her large entourage were crossing the channel. They landed at Bordeaux, where the plague was suddenly and viciously cutting down the population leaving bodies stacked in the streets. The stench was terrible. People dealt with it by walking around covering their noses with handkerchiefs drenched in perfume. The 14th century’s version of face masks.

The welcoming committee advised the Princess and her party to get far away from the plague. But the English thought they knew better and settled into Chateau de l’Ombriere, overlooking the Mediterranean and dead smack in the middle of the disease. Within weeks, they were all dead except for one English minister who brought the news back to Edward.

And so the bite of a flea altered the course of history.

The Spanish Flu of 1918/1919

And in the early 20th century we were visited by the Spanish Flu, which carried off 50 million souls worldwide. We told the story of the Spanish Flu here, early in our waltz with COVID-19.

Americans then did what Americans are doing now: they kept apart, stayed home to avoid contact, and wore masks when they moved around in society. At least most of them did, just as most are doing now.

Those Americans had to wait 20 years for a vaccine that only 40% of us now take, and thousands still die every year from the flu.

Conclusion

You may say, “Why is this history, interesting though it may be, even being mentioned? Here in 2020, we’re 2,000 years removed from ancient Rome; 650 years from the death of Princess Joan, and the Spanish Flu was 100 years ago. Why bring this stuff up now?” After all, the combination of more energy, more food, sanitary reform, germ theory, antibiotics and all around jet-propelled science have led to a population boom unlike anything else in the history of the planet. People are living longer and better. So, why look to ancient history in the midst of COVID-19?

Social distancing is nothing new. Throughout history, when societies were confronted with infectious disease on a grand scale, people tried to evacuate the area. Some of them could, most could not. They had no knowledge of the value of hand washing, and hand shaking was as common then as it is now, or at least as it was ten weeks ago, so disease transmittal was rampant.

But beyond all that, although blind luck and more than a little mismanagement contributed to the decline and fall of Rome, infectious disease and climatological degradation were the driving forces. And the Romans were blindsided by both. In the Black Death period, aristocratic hubris and tremendous poverty throughout the population’s underbelly led to death on a massive scale. During the Spanish Flu, many in the U.S. ignored warnings and directives to be “socially distant.” Many chose not to mask in public. Many protested government edicts to contain the spread of the disease. And many died.

Here, during COVID-19, we’ve had:

• Gross mismanagement from the top, as well as in some of the states;
• Aristocratic hubris on a massive scale;
• Profound economic inequality and, consequently, disease in large sections of our urban communities; and,
• Misguided protesters who endanger themselves and others as they gather together clamoring for the freedom to do just that.

Science and our seeming societal sophistication have led many of us, too many, to believe we actually can plant cut flowers and watch our garden grow.

In the words of that great American philosopher, Pogo, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”