Category Archives: Polio

Vaccinating Across Enemy Lines

There are periods in American history when scientific progress is in sync with governmental resolve to exploit that progress.  This was the case in the early 1960s, when advances in vaccine development were matched by the Kennedy Administration’s efforts to vaccinate the nation and improve the public’s health.  And the American public wholeheartedly supported both the emerging generation of vaccines and the government’s resolve to place them in the hands – or rather arms – of as many Americans as possible. The Vaccination Assistance Act of 1962 grew out of this three-pronged synchrony.[1]

Between 1963 and 1965, a severe outbreak of rubella (German measles) lent support to those urging Congress to approve title XIX (of the Medicaid provision) of the Social Security Act of 1965.  And Congress rose to the task, passing into law the “Early and Periodic Screening, Diagnosis, and Treatment” amendments to Title XIX.  The latter affirmed the right of every American child to receive comprehensive pediatric care, including vaccination.

The timing was auspicious.  In 1963, Merck, Sharp & Dohme began shipping its live-virus measles vaccine, trademarked Rubeovax, which had to be administered with standardized immune globulin (Gammagee). In 1967 MSD combined the measles vaccine with smallpox vaccine as Dryvax, and then, a year later, released a more attenuated live measles vaccine (Attenuvax) that did not require coadministration of immune globulin.[2]   MSD marketing reminded parents that mumps, long regarded as a benign childhood illness, was now associated with adult sterility.  It too bowed to science and responsible parenting, with its incident among American children falling 98% between 1968 and 1985.

Crowd waiting for 1962 oral polio vaccination
Creator: CDC/Mr. Stafford Sm

America’s commitment to vaccination was born of the triumphs of American medicine during WWII and came to fruition in the early 1950s, just as Cold War fears of nuclear war gripped the nation and pervaded everyday life.  Grade school nuclear attack drills, “duck and cover” animations, basement fallout shelters with cabinets filled with canned food – I remember all too well these scary artifacts of a 1950s childhood. Competition with the Soviet Union suffused all manner of scientific, technological, public health-related, and athletic endeavor. The Soviets leapt ahead in the space race with the launching of Sputnik in 1957.  The U.S. retained an enormous advantage on the ground with the size and destructive power of its nuclear arsenal.

Less well known is that, in the matter of mass polio vaccination, countries in the Eastern Bloc – Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Poland – led the way. Hungary’s intensive annual vaccination campaigns, launched in 1957 with Salk vaccine imported from the U.S. and Sabin vaccine imported from the U.S.S.R. in 1959, was the prototype for the World Health Organization’s (WHO) global strategy of polio eradication.  Czechoslovakia became the first nation to eradicate polio in 1959; Hungary followed in 1963.[3]  

It is tempting to absorb the narrative of polio eradication into Cold War politics, especially the rhetoric of the vaccination campaigns that mobilized the public. Throughout the Eastern Bloc, mass vaccination was an aspect of pro-natalist policies seeking to increase live births, healthy children, and, a bit down the road, productive workers. Eradication of polio, in the idiom of the time, subserved the reproduction of labor. In the U.S., the strategic implications of mass vaccination were framed differently.  During the late 50s and early 60s, one in five American applicants for military service was found medically unfit.  Increasing vaccination rates was a cost-effective way of rendering more young men fit to serve their nation.[4]   

But there is a larger story that subsumes these Cold War rationales, and it is a story, surprisingly, of scientific cooperation across the Iron Curtain.  Amid escalating Cold War tensions, the United States and Soviet Union undertook a joint initiative, largely clandestine, to develop, test, and manufacture life-saving vaccines.  The story begins in 1956, when the U.S. State Department and Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs jointly facilitated collaboration between Albert Sabin and two leading Soviet virologists, Mikhail Chumakov and Anatoli Smorodintsev.  Their shared goal was the manufacture of Sabin’s oral polio vaccine on a scale sufficient for large-scale testing in the Soviet Union. With a KGB operative in tow, the Russians travelled to Sabin’s laboratory in the Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, and Sabin in turn flew to Moscow to continue the brainstorming.  

Two years later, shipments of Sabin’s polio virus strains, packed in dry ice, arrived in the Soviet Union, and shortly thereafter, with the blessing of post-Stalin Kremlin leadership, the mass trials began.  The Sabin vaccine was given to 10 million Russian school children, followed by millions of young adults.  A WHO observer, the American virologist Dorothy Horstmann, attested to the safety of the trials and the validity of their findings. It has long since stopped polio transmission everywhere in the world except Afghanistan and Pakistan.   

No sooner was the Sabin live-virus vaccine licensed than Soviet scientists developed a unique process for preserving smallpox vaccine in harsh environments.  With freeze-dried vaccine now available, Viktor Zhdanov, a Soviet virologist and Deputy Minister of Health, boldly proposed to the 1958 meeting of the World Health Assembly, WHO’s governing body, the feasibility of global smallpox eradication.  After the meeting, he did not wait patiently for the WHO to act: he led campaigns both to produce smallpox vaccine and to solicit donations from around the world.[5]  His American colleague-in-arms in promoting freeze-dried vaccine was the public health physician and epidemiologist Donald Henderson, who led a 10-year international vaccination campaign that eliminated smallpox by 1977.[6] 

What can we learn from our Cold War predecessors?  The lesson is self-evident: we learn from them that science in the service of public health can be an enclave of consensus, what Dora Vargha, the historian of Cold War epidemics, terms a “safe space,” among ideological combatants with the military resources to destroy one another. The Cold War is long gone, so the safe space of which Vargha writes is no longer between geopolitical rivals with fingers on nuclear triggers.

But America in 2021 is no longer a cohesive national community.  Rather, we inhabit a fractured national landscape that erupts, with demoralizing frequency, into a sociopolitical battle zone. The geopolitical war zone is gone, but Cold War-type tensions play out in the present. Right-wing extremists, anti- science Evangelicals, purveyors of a Trump-like notion of insular “greatness” – these overlapping segments of the population increasingly pit themselves against the rest of us:  most Democrats, liberals, immigrants, refugees,  defenders of the social welfare state that took shape after the Second World War.  Their refusal to receive Covid-19 vaccination is absorbed into a web of breezy rhetoric:  that they’ll be okay, that the virus isn’t so bad, that the vaccines aren’t safe, that they come to us from Big Government, which always gets it wrong.  Any and all of the above.  In fact, the scientific illiterati are led by their anger, and the anger shields them from relevant knowledge – of previous pandemics, of the nature of a virus, of the human immune system, of the role of antibodies in protecting us from invading antigens, of the action of vaccines on blood chemistry – that would lead them to sequester their beliefs and get vaccinated.   

When the last wave of antivaccinationism washed across these shores in the early 1980s, it was led by social activists who misappropriated vaccination in support of their cause.  Second-wave feminists saw vaccination as part of the patriarchal structure of American medicine, and urged women to be skeptical about vaccinating their children, citing the possibility of reactions to measles vaccine among children allergic to eggs.  It was a classic instance of throwing out the baby with the bathwater which, in this case, meant putting the children at risk because the bathwater reeked of male hubris.  Not to be left out of the antiscientific fray, environmentalists, in an act of stupefying illogic, deemed vaccines an environmental pollutant – and one, according to writers such as Harris Coulter, associated with psychiatric illness.[7]                                

Matters are now much worse.  Antivaccinationism is no longer aligned, however misguidedly, with a worthy social cause.  Rather, it has been absorbed into this far-reaching skepticism about government which, according to many right-wing commentators and their minions, intrudes in our lives, manipulates us, constrains our freedom of choice, and uses our tax dollars to fund liberal causes.

Even in the absence of outright hostility, there is a prideful indifference to vaccination, partly because it is a directive from Big Government, acting in conformity with the directive of what is, after all, Big Pharmaceutical Science.  But we have always needed Big Government and Big Science to devise solutions to Big Problems, such as a global pandemic that has already claimed over 560,000 American lives.  Without American Big Government, in cooperation with British Big Government, overseeing the manufacture and distribution of penicillin among collaborating pharmaceutical firms, the miracle drug would not have been available in time for D-Day.  Big government made it happen.   A decade later, the need for international cooperation transcended the bonds of wartime allies.  It penetrated the Iron Curtain in the wake of global polio and smallpox epidemics that began in 1952 and continued throughout the decade.  

The last thing we need now is a reprise on that era’s McCarthyism, when anyone was tainted, if not blacklisted, by mere accusation of contact with communists or communism. That is, we do not need a nation in which, for part of the population, anything bearing the stamp of Big Government is suspected of being a deception that infringes on some Trumpian-Hobbesian notion of “freedom” in a state of (market-driven) nature.  

If you want to make America “great” again, then start by making Americans healthy again.  Throughout the 1960s, the imperative of vaccination overcame the anxieties of American and Soviet officials given to eying one another warily atop growing nuclear stockpiles. They brought the scientists together, and the result was the mass testing that led to the eradication of polio.  Then America rallied around the Soviet creation of freeze-dried smallpox vaccine, and largely funded the manufacture and distribution that resulted in the eradication of smallpox. 

Now things are better.  We live in an era in which science enables us to alter the course of a global pandemic.  It is time for antivaccinationists to embrace the science, indeed, to celebrate the science and the gifted scientists whose grasp of it enabled them to create safe and effective Covid-19 vaccines in astonishingly little time.  You’ve got to get your vaccine.  It’s the only way. 


[1] Elena Comis, Vaccine Nation: America’s Changing Relationship with Immunization  (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2014), 20.

[2] Louis Galambos, with Jane Eliot Sewell, Networks of Innovation: Vaccine Development at Merck, Sharp & Dohme, and Mulford, 1895-1995.Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1995, 96-98, 196-107.

[3] Dora Vargha, “Between East and West: Polio Vaccination Across the Iron Curtain in Cold War Hungary,” Butt. Hist. Med., 88:319-345, 2014; Dora Vargha, “Vaccination and the Communist State,” in The Politics of Vaccination (online pub date: March 2017).

[4] Comis, Vaccine Nation, 27.

[5] Manela E. “A Pox on Your Narrative: Writing Disease Control into Cold War History,” Diplomatic History, 34:299-323, 2010.

[6] Peter J. Hotez, “Vaccine Diplomacy:  Historical Perspective and Future Directions,” PLoS Neglected Trop. Dis. 8:e380810.1371, 2014; Peter J. Hotez, “Russian-United States Vaccine Science: Preserving the Legacy,” PLoS Neglected Trop. Dis., 11:e0005320,2017.

[7] The feminist and environmentalist antivaccination movements of the 1980s are reviewed at length, in Comis, Vaccine Nation, chapter 5 & 6.

Copyright © 2021 by Paul E. Stepansky.  All rights reserved. The author kindly requests that educators using his blog essays in courses and seminars let him know via info[at]keynote-books.com.

The Costs of Medical Progress

When historians of medicine introduce students to the transformation of acute, life-threatening, often terminal illness into long-term, manageable, chronic illness – a major aspect of 20th-century medicine – they immediately turn to diabetes.  There is Diabetes B.I. (diabetes before insulin) and diabetes in the Common Era, i.e., Diabetes A.I. (diabetes after insulin).  Before Frederick Banting, who knew next to nothing about the complex pathophysiology of diabetes, isolated insulin in his Toronto laboratory in 1922, juvenile diabetes was a death sentence; its young victims were consigned to starvation diets and early deaths.  Now, in the Common Era, young diabetics grow into mature diabetics and type II diabetics live to become old diabetics.  Life-long management of what has become a chronic disease will take them through a dizzying array of testing supplies, meters, pumps, and short- and long-term insulins.  It will also put them at risk for the onerous sequelae of long-term diabetes:  kidney failure, neuropathy, retinopathy, and amputation of lower extremities.  Of course all the associated conditions of adult diabetes can be managed more or less well, with their own technologically driven treatments (e.g., hemodialysis for kidney failure) and long-term medications.

The chronicity of diabetes is both a blessing and curse.  Chris Feudtner, the author of the outstanding study of its transformation, characterizes it as a “cyclical transmuted disease” that no longer has a stable “natural” history. “Defying any simple synopsis,” he writes, “the metamorphosis of diabetes wrought by insulin, like a Greek myth of rebirth turned ironic and macabre, has led patients to fates both blessed and baleful.”[1]  He simply means that what he terms the “miraculous therapy” of insulin only prolongs life at the expense of serious long-term problems that did not exist, that could not exist, before the availability of insulin.  So depending on the patient, insulin signifies a partial victory or a foredoomed victory, but even in the best of cases, to borrow the title of Feudtner’s book, a victory that is “bittersweet.”

It is the same story whenever new technologies and new medications override an otherwise grim prognosis.  Beginning in the early 1930s, we put polio patients (many of whom were kids) with paralyzed intercostal muscles of the diaphragm into the newly invented Iron Lung.[2]  The machine’s electrically driven blowers created negative pressure inside the tank that made the kids breathe.  They could relax and stop struggling for air, though they required intensive, around-the-clock nursing care.[3]  Many survived but spent months or years, occasionally even lifetimes, in Iron Lungs.  Most regained enough lung capacity to leave their steel tombs (or were they nurturing wombs?) and graduated to a panoply of mechanical polio aids: wheelchairs, braces, and crutches galore.  An industry of rehab facilities (like FDR’s fabled Warm Springs Resort in Georgia) sprouted up to help patients regain as much function as possible.

Beginning in 1941, the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis (NFIP), founded by FDR and his friend Basil O’Connor in 1937, footed the bill for the manufacture of Iron Lungs and then distributed them via regional centers to communities where they were needed.   The Lungs, it turned out, were foundation-affordable devices, and it was unseemly, even Un-American, to worry about the cost of hospitalization and nursing care for the predominantly young, middle-class white patients who temporarily resided in them, still less about the costs of post-Iron Lung mechanical appliances and rehab personnel that helped get them back on their feet.[4]  To be sure, African American polio victims were unwelcome at tony resort-like facilities like Warm Springs, but the NFIP, awash in largesse, made a grant of $161,350 to Tuskegee Institute’s Hospital so that it could build and equip its own 35-bed “infantile paralysis center for Negroes.”[5]

Things got financially dicey for the NFIP only when Iron Lung success stories, disseminated through print media, led to overuse.  Parents read the stories and implored doctors to give their stricken children the benefit of this life-saving invention – even when their children had a form of polio (usually bulbar polio) in the face of which the mechanical marvel was useless.  And what pediatrician, moved by the desperation of loving parents beholding a child gasping for breath, would deny them the small peace afforded by use of the machine and the around-the-clock nursing care it entailed?

The cost of medical progress is rarely the cost of this or that technology for this or that disease.  No, the cost corresponds to cascading “chronicities” that pull multiple technologies and treatment regimens into one gigantic flow.  We see this development clearly in the development and refinement of hemodialysis for kidney failure.  Dialysis machines only became life-extenders in 1960, when Belding Scribner, working at the University of Washington Medical School, perfected the design of a surgically implanted Teflon cannula and  shunt through which the machine’s tubing could be attached, week after week, month after month, year after year.  But throughout the 60s, dialysis machines were in such short supply that treatment had to be rationed:  Local medical societies and medical centers formed “Who Shall Live” committees to decide who would receive dialysis and who not.  Public uproar followed, fanned by the newly formed National Association of Patients on Hemodialysis, most of whose members, be it noted, were white, educated, professional men.

In 1972, Congress responded to the pressure and decided to fund all treatment for end-stage renal disease (ESRD) through Section 2991 of the Social Security Act.  Dialysis, after all, was envisioned as long-term treatment for only a handful of appropriate patients, and in 1973 only 10,000 people received the treatment at a government cost of $229 million.  But things did not go as planned.  In 1990, the 10,000 had grown to 150,000 and their treatment cost the government $3 billion.  And in 2011, the 150,000 had grown to 400,000 people and drained the Social Security Fund of $20 billion.

What happened?  Medical progress happened.  Dialysis technology was not static; it was refined and became available to sicker, more debilitated patients who encompassed an ever-broadening socioeconomic swath of the population with ESRD.  Improved cardiac care, drawing on its own innovative technologies, enabled cardiac patients to live long enough to go into kidney failure and receive dialysis.  Ditto for diabetes, where improved long-term management extended the diabetic lifespan to the stage of kidney failure and dialysis.  The result:  Dialysis became mainstream and its costs  spiraled onward and upward.  A second booster engine propelled dialysis-related healthcare costs still higher, as ESRD patients now lived long enough to become cardiac patients and/or insulin-dependent diabetics, with the costs attendant to managing those chronic conditions.

With the shift to chronic disease, the historian Charles Rosenberg has observed, “we no longer die of old age but of a chronic disease that has been managed for years or decades and runs its course.”[6] To which I add a critical proviso:  Chronic disease rarely runs its course in glorious pathophysiological isolation.  All but inevitably, it pulls other chronic diseases into the running.  Newly emergent chronic disease is collateral damage attendant to chronic disease long-established and well-managed.  Chronicities cluster; discrete treatment technologies leach together; medication needs multiply.

This claim does not minimize the inordinate impact – physical, emotional, and financial – of a single disease.  Look at AIDS/HIV, a “single” entity that brings into its orbit all the derivative illnesses associated with “wasting disease.”  But the larger historical dynamic is at work even with AIDS.  If you live with the retrovirus, you are at much greater risk of contracting TB, since the very immune cells destroyed by the virus enable the body to fight the TB bacterium.  So we behold a resurgence of TB, especially in developing nations, because of HIV infection.[7]  And because AIDS/HIV is increasingly a chronic condition, we need to treat disproportionate numbers of HIV-infected patients for TB.  They have become AIDS/HIV patients and TB patients.  Worldwide, TB is the leading cause of death among persons with HIV infection.

Here in microcosm is one aspect of our health care crisis.  Viewed historically, it is a crisis of success that corresponds to a superabundance of long-term multi-disease management tools and ever-increasing clinical skill in devising and implementing complicated multidrug regimens.  We cannot escape the crisis brought on by these developments, nor should we want to.  The crisis, after all, is the financial result of a century and a half of life-extending medical progress.  We cannot go backwards.  How then do we go forward?  The key rests in the qualifier one aspect.  American health care is organismic; it is  a huge octopus with specialized tentacles that simultaneously sustain and toxify different levels of the system.  To remediate the financial crisis we must range across these levels in search of more radical systemic solutions.


[1]C. Feudtner, Bittersweet: Diabetes, Insulin, and the Transformation of Illness (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003), p. 36.

[2] My remarks on the development and impact of the Iron Lung and homodialysis, respectively, lean on D. J. Rothman, Beginnings Count: The Technological Imperative in American Health Care (NY: Oxford University Press, 1997). For an unsettling account of the historical circumstances and market forces that have undermined the promise of dialysis in America, see Robin Fields, “’God help you. You’re on dialysis’,” The Atlantic, 306:82-92, December, 2010. The article is online at   http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2010/12/-8220-god-help-you-you-39-re-on-dialysis-8221/8308/.

[3] L. M. Dunphy, “’The Steel Cocoon’: Tales of the Nurses and Patients of the Iron Lung, 1929-1955,” Nursing History Review, 9:3-33, 2001.

[4] D. J. Wilson, “Braces, Wheelchairs, and Iron Lungs: The Paralyzed Body and the Machinery of Rehabilitation in the Polio Epidemics,” Journal of Medical Humanities, 26:173-190, 2005.

[5] See S. E. Mawdsley, “’Dancing on Eggs’: Charles H. Bynum, Racial Politics, and the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, 1938-1954,” Bull. Hist. Med., 84:217-247, 2010.

[6] C. Rosenberg, “The Art of Medicine: Managed Fear,” Lancet, 373:802-803, 2009.  Quoted at p. 803.

[7] F. Ryan, The Forgotten Plague: How the Battle Against Tuberculosis was Won and Lost  (Boston:  Little, Brown, 1992), pp. 395-398, 401, 417.

Copyright © 2012 by Paul E. Stepansky.  All rights reserved.