by David Isaacs
Dedication
To Carmel
Contents
Dedication
Introduction
1. Our deadliest foes
2. Smallpox, the speckled monster
3. The flawed genius of Louis Pasteur
4. The end of polio
5. Tuberculosis, the great equaliser
6. Diphtheria, the scourge of childhood
7. The golden age of immunisation
8. Vaccines and cancer
9. Vaccines and pregnancy
10. Vaccines for the elderly
11. The tragedies and the frauds
12. The modern anti-immunisation movement
13. Immunisation and ethics
14. Overcoming the iniquity of poverty
15. Immunisation into the future
Conclusion
Endnotes
Glossary of terms and abbreviations
Suggested reading
Acknowledgements
Index
Photos Section
About the Author
Copyright
Introduction
Recently I met a young couple whose six-week-old son had just died from whooping cough (pertussis). They were devastated, but they were also angry.
Their son had been too young for immunisation, but had caught whooping cough from a school-age sibling. The older child had been immunised, but whooping cough had been circulating among unimmunised children at school.
Why had the other parents not had their children immunised? How could they have been so selfish? Shouldn’t there be a law against it?
Immunisation is a topic that polarises opinion. As with climate change, people either tend to trust the experts or doubt them, and there is little room for a halfway position. Ethicists wring their hands: people claim rights, yet rights conflict. One parent’s right to decide whether or not their child is immunised can clash with another parent’s right for their child to be protected from other children’s infections.
There have always been opponents of immunisation. After immunisation was introduced at the beginning of the 19th century, there were large demonstrations in Britain and the United States. At one protest in Leicester, more than 80,000 people marched through the streets. The American opposition was also fierce, but more litigious.
Today, however, scientists can point to the remarkable successes achieved through immunisation. For centuries, smallpox was a devastating disease that killed many and permanently scarred survivors – the English historian Lord Macaulay called it ‘the most terrible of all the ministers of death’. Even in 1950, the year I was born, an estimated 50 million people, about 2% of the world’s population, still caught smallpox each year, and as many as 10 million of them died from it. By 1978, however, smallpox had been eradicated by immunisation: a remarkable achievement that shows the extraordinary potential of immunisation to save lives. Today there is almost no one alive who has seen a case of smallpox.
Travelling in Africa or Asia, you will still see people crippled by polio. Yet polio too will soon disappear. In 1988, there were 350,000 cases worldwide; in 2017 there were just 29.
Of course there is much still to be done. In Africa, I have seen babies and children racked with spasms from tetanus. I have watched helpless as an African doctor’s 14-year-old son lapsed into a coma and died from rabies. I have seen hundreds of children die from meningococcal meningitis. I have seen wards of children with severe measles which, if they survived, left them weakened and vulnerable to dying from other infections such as severe gastroenteritis. Even in the United Kingdom and Australia, in years gone by, I saw children die or become brain-damaged from infections that have since all but disappeared due to immunisation programs.
The history of the development of vaccines by great scientists and doctors is one full of human interest, drama and magic. Of course, great scientists such as Louis Pasteur were flawed, like all humans, but that only adds to their intrigue. And this book aims to explore that human dimension: the people who developed the first vaccines; the children who were their first patients; those killed for trying to prevent polio. I will celebrate the successful control of many previously fatal infections, but also mourn those who died when early immunisation programs went wrong. And I will explore ethical issues, as well as the safety and effectiveness of vaccines.
People have written books about immunisation before. I wrote one in the year 2000 with the late lamented immunologist Gordon Ada called Vaccination: The Facts, the Fears, the Future. But in Defeating the Ministers of Death, my ambition is to inspire you by telling you the most exciting stories behind immunisation, and show you what these most human of stories have to teach us about ourselves.
CHAPTER 1
Our deadliest foes
The finely dressed crowd gathered in the White House was hushed. People were on tenterhooks and spoke in whispers. The orchestra too was silent; President Abraham Lincoln had forbidden any dancing.
Eleven years earlier, in 1851, the president’s second child, Eddie, had died aged three after a harrowing seven-week illness of coughing fits and fevers, probably diphtheria or tuberculosis. Now two of the Lincolns’ surviving sons, Willie and Tad, had caught typhoid, and lay weak with headaches, fevers, diarrhoea and severe aches and pains. Tad was recovering, but 11-year-old Willie was fading fast.
Mary Lincoln kept leaving the party, hurrying upstairs in her long white satin dress to be with her dying son. Mary’s seamstress, ex-slave Elizabeth Keckley, later wrote about Willie’s debilitating illness: ‘The days dragged wearily by, and he grew weaker and more shadow-like. He was his mother’s favourite child.’
When Willie finally died on 20 February 1862, Abraham Lincoln could scarcely believe it. He walked down the corridor to the room of his secretary John Nicolay and sobbed: ‘Well, Nicolay, my boy is gone – he is actually gone!’
Willie’s body was laid out in the White House on a huge rosewood bed, now called the Lincoln Bed. Elizabeth Keckley recorded the president’s words: ‘My poor boy, he was too good for this earth. God has called him home. I know that he is much better off in heaven, but then we loved him so much. It is hard, hard to have him die!’ Then Lincoln buried his head in his hands and wept.
At the funeral, the Lincoln family gathered round the coffin to say farewell to Willie. Benjamin French, the funeral supervisor, wrote: ‘While they were thus engaged there came one of the heaviest storms of rain and wind that has visited this city for years, and the terrible storm without seemed almost in unison with the storm of grief within.’
Willie’s death rocked the Lincoln family to its core. For months afterwards, Abraham Lincoln would often retreat to a secluded room to weep. Mary was even more bereft. Elizabeth Keckley described her as ‘an altered woman . . . she never crossed the threshold of the Guest’s Room in which he died, or the Green Room in which he was embalmed’. Abraham had to hire a nurse to look after her.
Yet Mary Lincoln’s grief was only just beginning. One day in 1865, Abraham told Mary, ‘We must both be more cheerful in the future. Between the war and the loss of our darling Willie we have been very miserable.’ They went to the theatre that same evening. Suddenly a well-known actor, John Wilkes Booth, burst into their private box and unaccountably shot Abraham Lincoln in the back of the head. Six years later, Tad died aged 18 from heart failure, possibly caused by tuberculosis.
Abraham Lincoln will be forever remembered, and rightly so, as the Great Emancipator who won the American Civil War and set his country on the path to the abolition of slavery. But his tragic family history illustrates the precariousness of children’s lives in that era. Only one of the Lincolns’ four children – their elde
st son Robert – lived to adult life. Nowadays they would all have survived, thanks to a combination of vaccines, antibiotics and improved sanitation.
Under attack
Nature is the world’s greatest terrorist. While we may fear human terrorist attacks, in truth humans have always had far more to fear from infections.
In the fifth century BC, Athens and Sparta, the two most powerful city-states in Greece, became engaged in the bitter Peloponnesian War, which lasted 27 years. Athens lost the war, and this loss transformed ancient Greece, which became ravaged by vicious civil conflicts. Athens might well have won the war had it not been for a ‘plague’ in 430 BC, the second year of the war, that killed over 30,000 Athenians, many of them previously healthy young men and women. The historian Thucydides caught the plague and survived, so his descriptions of the suffering are particularly poignant:
People in good health were all of a sudden attacked by violent heats . . . the throat or tongue, becoming bloody and emitting an unnatural and fetid breath . . . Discharges of bile of every kind named by physicians ensued, accompanied by very great distress . . .
The body was . . . reddish, livid, and breaking out into small pustules and ulcers . . .
The miserable feeling of not being able to rest or sleep never ceased to torment them.
If the disease descended further into the bowels, inducing a violent ulceration there accompanied by severe diarrhoea, this brought on a weakness which was generally fatal.
Modern tests on teeth from an ancient Greek burial pit suggest the so-called ‘Plague of Athens’ was actually typhoid fever, although some experts dispute the validity of these tests.
Typhoid has all but disappeared from industrialised countries because of improved sanitation and the provision of safe drinking water. Modern wars bring their own horrors, but today a plague of typhoid would be prevented by better hygiene, or the sick would be cured with antibiotics. Children and young adults in resource-rich countries are far less likely to die from infections nowadays, though in many poor countries they remain at risk (albeit far less risk than in ancient Greece).
The global rise in life expectancy is partly due to antibiotics and improved living conditions. But it would not have been possible without immunisation.
Sources of infection
Humans can become infected by bacteria, fungi or viruses. Bacteria are micro-organisms that live almost everywhere on Earth, including in and on our bodies. Most do us no harm, but some cause infectious diseases, including tuberculosis, cholera and bubonic plague. Bacterial infections can often be cured with antibiotics. As well as mushrooms and toadstools, fungi include micro-organisms such as yeasts and moulds. Fungal infections are often of the skin, for example tinea, or of the lining of the mouth or vagina, as with thrush. But they can be more serious and invade the lungs or brain if the patient’s immunity is very low. We use antifungal agents to treat fungal infections.
The word ‘virus’ derives from an ancient word common to Sanskrit, Greek and Latin meaning poison, and came to refer to snake venom in Middle English. The word ‘virulent’ has the same derivation. Unlike bacteria and fungi, viruses are not even alive; they are germs that reproduce by infecting a living cell, hijacking its genetic material and forcing it to make more viruses. Each virus contains only a handful of genes. The influenza virus has eight genes and HIV (the human immunodeficiency virus) has nine, whereas a human has about 20,000.
Small size is no hindrance, however, and viruses are the most common infections: children aged one to five have an average of more than six viral infections a year, mainly coughs and colds caused by respiratory viruses and diarrhoea (gastro) caused by gut viruses. There are just a few antiviral medicines, for example to treat herpes simplex and chickenpox viruses. Antibiotics have no effect on viruses whatsoever. A doctor may give them to a patient with a cough or bad cold, but this is just in case the cause is a bacterial infection.
More dangerous viruses can kill millions of humans. The British biologist and Nobel laureate Peter Medawar described a virus as ‘a piece of nucleic acid surrounded by bad news’. From the 16th century onwards, viral infections like measles and smallpox introduced by European colonisation of the Americas killed over 90% of the indigenous population, immeasurably more than were killed by weapons. Smallpox killed 300 million people in the 20th century before it was eradicated by immunisation. Infectious diseases always have been and always will be a natural part of the human condition.
The notorious ‘Spanish influenza’ pandemic, which started in 1918 near the end of World War I and lasted for three years, infected 500 million people and killed more than 50 million people, many of them young, previously healthy adults. In Pale Rider, Laura Spinney writes that the 1918 influenza pandemic ‘resculpted human populations more radically than anything since the Black Death’. Spinney took the name of her book from a short story called Pale Horse, Pale Rider by the United States writer and political activist Katherine Anne Porter, who almost died from influenza in Denver in 1918, aged 28. Her rich black hair fell out, grew back white and remained white until she died aged 90. The influenza killed young and old, rich and poor, from Alaska to Brazil to Odessa to South Africa to Zanzibar. The three-year pandemic killed far more people than died from warfare in both world wars combined.
It is not known where the influenza pandemic started; unproven theories include the over-crowded French trenches and even China. The poor Spanish were innocent: influenza spread from France to Spain during the war. The influenza was introduced into the United States by sailors arriving in Boston in August 1918. Within six months, over half a million Americans had died from the flu.
The government was desperate to study the virus with the aim of developing a vaccine. A thousand sailors imprisoned on Deer Island in Boston Harbor for crimes such as desertion, drunkenness and delinquency were ordered to gather on the parade ground. A public health physician, Dr Joseph Goldberger, asked the men if they would volunteer to be infected with influenza. He told them what it would entail.
First a culture of influenza would be sprayed into their nostrils. If that did not cause them to catch the flu, they would be injected with suspensions of lung tissue (tissue shaken up with saline until dissolved sufficiently to be injected) from people who had died of the illness. Next they would have mucus from influenza patients sprayed into their eyes and noses and rubbed onto their throats. Finally each volunteer would have a seriously ill influenza patient cough straight into his face. The upside was that they would be pardoned if they survived.
Three hundred prisoners volunteered. Goldberger selected 62, and they were taken to a quarantine station and subjected to this battery of attempts to infect them.
At the end of the experiment they were all pardoned. Not one prisoner had caught influenza. Probably they had already been infected with influenza when the epidemic first hit Boston and were immune.
One person did catch influenza during the study: the doctor from the quarantine station who performed the experiments. He promptly died.
A disturbing feature of the pandemic was that it killed young healthy adults, whereas most influenza strains cause fatalities among the elderly. Many scientists tried to find the source of the 1918 influenza virus. One unsuccessful attempt involved looking for antibodies in blood from people living on remote islands who had survived the 1918 pandemic and never been infected with influenza since. Finally, in 2005, United States scientists were able to determine the genetic make-up of the pandemic influenza virus, with samples taken from the body of a woman who had died in 1918 and been buried in permafrost in Alaska, thus preserving her tissues for posterity. The virus was then reconstructed. When it was subsequently given to macaque monkeys, they mounted a vigorous immune response, known as a ‘cytokine storm’, and some died. This led researchers to conclude that many young adults died from pandemic influenza because the virus induced just such an overactive host response. It’s tragic that so many young men and women were killed by their ow
n immune system. The only possible solution would have been prevention, and by that I mean immunisation.
How infections occur
To understand how immunisation works, we first need to understand what infections are and how humans respond to them. Humans evolved after micro-organisms, and to a certain extent we have always competed with each other for survival. This is often portrayed using military language: a ‘war on infection’. But, as with the war on cancer, or indeed the War on Terror, to simplify the enemy is to underestimate the problem and risk missing the subtleties. The relationship between humans and infection is more complex than a war, although to this day when war breaks out infectious diseases soon follow.
A human infection is sometimes said to occur when a micro-organism ‘invades’ the body and causes disease. The womb contains no micro-organisms, and almost all newborns are completely sterile when they are born. Within a matter of hours after birth, the baby has acquired micro-organisms from the environment all over its skin and different micro-organisms throughout its gut or intestinal tract. These micro-organisms do not kill the baby because they do not invade. They do not invade because most of them are not very virulent (warlike), and because the baby already has an immune system that recognises and deals with those organisms that can be pathogenic (cause disease). Our immune system is highly complex. It can recognise and destroy most foreign agents – not just micro-organisms like viruses and bacteria, but also cancer cells.
It makes no sense, thinking strictly in terms of survival of the fittest, for a micro-organism to kill the host on which its own survival depends. What is in the micro-organism’s best interests is to live in harmony with its human host. For example, a respiratory organism like the pneumococcus – named because it can cause pneumonia – would be better off lazing in a warm bath of nasal mucus and reproducing from time to time than it would invading the lungs.
Indeed, most of the time the former is exactly what the pneumococcus does, lucky thing, in a process we call colonisation. Colonisation allows the organism to live in equilibrium with the host. We call this existence a commensal relationship: when the micro-organism benefits and the host is not harmed. If the host also benefits, it is a symbiotic relationship, while if the host is harmed the organism is a parasite.