Benjamin A. Railton's Blog, page 134

July 3-4, 2021: Of Thee I Sing and Patriotism in 2021

[Over the last few months, I’ve had the chance to talk about my new book in a number of settings, and as always every such talk has led to distinct and interesting follow-up questions and ideas. So this week I’ve reflected on those continuing conversations, leading up to this special July 4thweekend post on debates over patriotism, history, and education in 2021!]

On education, history, and patriotism.

A few weeks back, I had the chance to chat (mine is Episode 3) with Kelly Therese on her excellent new Unsung History podcast. We mostly talked about the episode’s specific focus, the amazing and inspiring Susie King Taylor. But toward the end of the conversation, Kelly generously asked me to talk a bit about Of Thee I Sing, and I couldn’t help but start with the ongoing June (and very much still July) 2021 debates over whether and how to teach difficult American histories. The case I made there is similar to the one from this HNN piece of mine: that in our current debates, teaching history and teaching patriotism are too often framed as distinct and opposed emphases. The 1776 Commission Report articulated this black-and-white perspective succinctly: “Universities in the US are often today hotbeds of anti-Americanism…that generate in students and in the broader culture at the very least disdain and at worst outright hatred for this country”; and instead the Commission sought to “restore patriotic education that teaches the truth about America.”

Obviously I understand where folks like those on the 1776 Commission are coming from in advancing this dichotomy: they exemplify mythic patriotism; and as I argue throughout the book, that form of patriotism features both an exclusionary vision of American history and a complementary narrative that anyone who disagrees with that vision is unpatriotic. But I’ll admit to being frustrated that so many critics and opponents of said mythic patriotism still uphold the dichotomy, just from the other side of the equation: that is, that for many scholars and educators (at least as they express their perspective on social media and in other public scholarly forums), teaching our hardest histories does indeed mean not teaching patriotism. This narrative equates patriotism with mythic patriotism, not only in its argument that America’s more difficult (and often excluded) histories are incommensurate with a patriotic perspective, but also and even more tellingly in its argument that to teach patriotism would mean to teach unquestioning obedience to the national mythos (which is a core element to mythic patriotism to be sure).

Just as mythic patriotism isn’t the only form of American patriotism, however, mythic patriotic education is far from the only way to link patriotism to historical education. As Mark Rice articulates so powerfully in this USIH blog post, it’s quite possible—although certainly not easy, but what important thing ever is?—to teach critical patriotism. Indeed, I would go further: teaching critical patriotism as part of American history (and literature, and studies) classrooms links one of the most important skills we seek to inculcate in our students (critical thinking) to an engagement with both the complex and difficult realities of American history and the (to my mind absolutely vital) sense that we are all part of this community and have a responsibility to help it move forward and live up to its ideals. Indeed indeed, I would go further still: teaching American history (and literature, and studies) as fully and thoughtfully as we can is one of the best ways to create a more collective and shared sense of critical patriotism, with equal emphasis on both words in that concept. The more I talk and think about this book, the more I feel certain that critical patriotism will be essential if we are to move closer to being a more perfect union—and that means linking, not separating, history and patriotism in our work as educators.

Next series starts Monday,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Ideas for other settings or audiences with whom I could share the book?

July 2, 2021: Talking Of Thee I Sing: What’s Next

[Over the last few months, I’ve had the chance to talk about my new book in a number of settings, and as always every such talk has led to distinct and interesting follow-up questions and ideas. So this week I’ll reflect on those continuing conversations, leading up to a special July 4thweekend post on the state of patriotism in 2021!]

On a type of book talk I’m especially excited to add onto the schedule this Fall.

The topics of this week’s posts—bookstores, libraries, historic and cultural sites, and educational institutions—are all examples of settings and communities with which I’ll always be excited to share my ideas and voice (and to hear from in conversation, of course), and I’d love nominations for others where I could give talks (whether virtual or in-person) this Summer and Fall. I’d also love ideas for other podcasts with whom I could chat and websites for whom I could write, along the lines of those I highlight on this page and otherwise. I’m also a big fan of chatting with book and reading groups, adult learning programs, and, well, any and all other communities and conversations you could think of, so bring it all on, please!

But in this last post of the week’s series, I wanted to make an appeal for one particular such community with whom I’d be especially stoked to chat this Fall (and beyond): classes. Whether undergrad or grad, secondary/high school or even earlier, I’ve never had a chance to talk with a group of students and not come away feeling as inspired as it’s possible to feel by such conversations. So if you’re a teacher (or a student!), or if you know teachers (or students!), I’d really love to hear from you, whether here or by email (brailton@fitchburgstate.edu), to see if it might work for me to chat with a class. Thanks in advance, and hope to see you down the road!

Special weekend post tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Ideas for other settings or audiences with whom I could share the book?

July 1, 2021: Talking Of Thee I Sing: Mass Historical Society

[Over the last few months, I’ve had the chance to talk about my new book in a number of settings, and as always every such talk has led to distinct and interesting follow-up questions and ideas. So this week I’ll reflect on those continuing conversations, leading up to a special July 4thweekend post on the state of patriotism in 2021!]

On the inspiration for my book’s title.

As was the case with the Boston Athenaeum, I was highly disappointed to miss out on the chance for a second in-person talk at the Massachusetts Historical Society (for a recording of this second, virtual talk, see their YouTube link here!). But the wonderful MHS staff found ways to replicate a great deal of what makes talks at their institution so inspiring, including my favorite thing about my first talk there: the pre-talk cocktail hour featuring relevant items from their amazing collections. On the introductory/title slide that attendees of the virtual talk saw as they logged on, the MHS staff highlighted another such wonderful primary source: a portion of the original lyrics to “America,” the 1831 song that would become better known as “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.” At the end of my book’s Introduction I wrote a few concluding paragraphs on that song and its contexts, which I’ll share here:

“Like many cultural works, the song “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” took a long and winding road to becoming the popular schoolchildren’s song we know today. The melody seems to have originated as an 18th century English hymn and subsequently evolved into that nation’s “God Save the King”; before the 18th century was out it had likewise become the basis for national anthems in a number of other European nations, including Denmark’s “A Song to be Sung by the Danish Subjects at the Fete of their King, to the Melody of the English Hymn” and Prussia’s “Hail to Thee in the Victor’s Wreath.” The melody also made its way to the American colonies, and at George Wash­ington’s first presidential inauguration (in New York City in 1789) he was greeted with a version with new lyrics composed for the occasion, such as “Joy to our native land!/Let every heart expand/For Washington’s at hand.” 

In 1831, the renowned Massachusetts organist and composer Lowell Mason worked with Samuel Francis Smith, a young man studying for the ministry at the Andover Theological Seminary, to compose the adaptation that became “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.” That version, also known simply as “America,” was first performed by a children’s choir at the July 4th cel­ebrations at Boston’s historic Park Street Church, where Mason was organist and choirmaster. Smith’s lyrics feature the celebratory and mythic forms of patriotism as clearly as do Katharine Lee Bates’, as in the lines “Sweet land of liberty” and “Land of the pilgrims’ pride.” But his most interesting line is “Of thee I sing,” a self-referential acknowledgment not only of the song’s existence as such, but also and most importantly of the role of such shared songs, of cultural works and their collective performances, in constructing both patriotism and through it the nation itself.

But there have always been competing visions of those constructions and of “My Country.” In the same decade as that first 1831 performance of the song, Boston would also be the site for numerous moments and expressions of active and critical patriotism: the first issue of William Lloyd Garrison’s abolitionist newspaper The Liberator was published in the city on January 1st, 1831; on January 25th, 1834 Garrison published an editorial in that paper expressing his support for the Mashpee Revolt, the Massachusetts rebel­lion through which the Cape Cod Native American community of Mashpee resisted white settler aggression and convinced the state legislature to name Mashpee a self-governing district; and on January 26th, 1836, one of the key figures in that successful Mashpee uprising, the Native American min­ister, orator, and author William Apess, delivered his fiery “Eulogy on King Philip” in Boston’s Odeon lecture hall, making the case for the 17th century Wampanoag chief as a revolutionary American ancestor akin to and as de­serving of commemoration as George Washington.

All these figures and communities likewise sang America, exemplifying active and critical perspectives on the work still to be done if that nation was to become a genuine land of liberty. As in 1830s Boston, every setting and period in American history has been defined by the presence of and conflicts between celebratory, mythic, active, and critical patriotisms. The history of competing American patriotisms is in many ways the history of America itself, a legacy that echoes ever more clearly and crucially into our own mo­ment’s debates and our shared future.”

Hopes and plans for what’s next tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Thoughts on this reflection? Ideas for other settings or audiences with whom I could share the book?

June 30, 2021: Talking Of Thee I Sing: The Boston Athenaeum

 [Over the last few months, I’ve had the chance to talk about my new book in a number of settings, and as always every such talk has led to distinct and interesting follow-up questions and ideas. So this week I’ll reflect on those continuing conversations, leading up to a special July 4thweekend post on the state of patriotism in 2021!]

On an excellent audience question that helped me think through a very helpful analogy.

I first read Michael Kammen’s magisterial The Mystic Chords of Memory (1991) for my grad comps, and ever since I’ve made extensive use of his central, paired but contrasting categories of remembrance and commemoration (including in posts for this blog). To quote from how I paraphrase Kammen’s two categories in that hyperlinked blog post: “remembrance, which would describe genuine attempts to remember the past in all its complexity; and commemoration, which would categorize those efforts that are more simplifying and mythologizing, and usually more tied to present concerns than to the past itself.” While of course there’s far more of a nuanced spectrum than that (as Kammen himself analyzes at length in his vital book), I think those two categories continue to do a lot of meaningful scholarly and cultural work, including in our current debates over whether and how to teach American history.

I knew that the category of commemoration had a lot in common with my book’s category of mythic patriotism (about which I wrote in Monday’s post). But thanks to a wonderful audience question after my May 18 virtual book talk at the Boston Athenaeum, I was able to further develop that idea and (more specifically) to come up with a very useful analogy through which to explain it. While I greatly missed the chance to deliver a talk in person at the Athenaeum (still the most beautiful place I’ve ever been able to share my work), I knew that a virtual talk for that community would likewise bring out an impressive, engaged, thoughtful audience, and the attendees didn’t disappoint. They unsurprisingly came up with a great group of questions and responses, and the best was actually asked by a longtime Twitter friend of mine: Beth Folsom, the Program Manager at History Cambridge. Following up on my highlighting of William Apess’ “Eulogy on King Philip” as an example of 19th century critical patriotism, Beth asked whether eulogies more broadly can be defined as central spaces for patriotic expressions.

They certainly can, and given that I didn’t yet talk about such occasions at length in the book, I look forward to thinking through them more fully as I move forward. But Beth’s excellent question also allowed me, both in my immediate response and especially as I’ve continued to think about her frame in the month since, to think about whether mythic patriotism itself could be seen as a eulogizing perspective on American history. Partly that’s because mythic patriotism, like Kammen’s concept of commemoration, features a celebratory perspective on the past which is likewise very central to the tone and work of eulogies. But what Beth’s question and this analogy have really helped me think through is how much mythic patriotism depends on a vision of the past and the nation alike as having passed, as something dead and gone and thus set in stone (rather than constantly being constructed and reconstructed, as categories like active and critical patriotism would insist). And just as a eulogizer would be bothered if their funereal narrative were challenged by those more critical of the deceased, so have our contemporary mythic patriots been so bothered by more critical patriotic takes on the national (not-)dead body.

Last book talk reflection tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Thoughts on this reflection? Ideas for other settings or audiences with whom I could share the book?

June 29, 2021: Talking Of Thee I Sing: Toadstool Bookshop

[Over the last few months, I’ve had the chance to talk about my new book in a number of settings, and as always every such talk has led to distinct and interesting follow-up questions and ideas. So this week I’ll reflect on those continuing conversations, leading up to a special July 4thweekend post on the state of patriotism in 2021!]

On the limits and benefits of virtual talks.

In my post on my August 2019 book talk for We the People at Peterborough (NH)’s wonderful Toadstool Bookshop, I wrote about one of my favorite parts of giving such talks: the particularly inspiring conversations that often take place before and after them. As usual when I highlight a prior post in my first paragraph, I’ll end here and ask you to check out that post if you would and then come on back for today’s thoughts.

Welcome back! My March 27thvirtual book talk for Toadstool was my first opportunity to directly compare a virtual talk to an in-person one, and it was precisely the absence of these informal, pre- and post-talk conversations that I felt most distinctly. I did have the chance to chat for a few minutes before the talk with the wonderful Toadstool staff member (Katrina Feraco) who moderated the talk, and there were a couple excellent audience questions at the end of the talk. But both of those moments remained somewhat formal or at least somewhat part of the talk’s frame—whereas the truly informal, separate conversations I wrote about in that prior post can (it seems to me) only happen when I’m sitting in an in-person space like a bookstore, my book next to me, chatting about it with people outside of the context of the talk itself. I’m not sure those kinds of conversations can happen at a virtual talk, and I’ve missed them throughout this spring’s series of such talks.

At the same time, virtual book talks have their advantages, possibilities that make me hope some version of them (or at least a concurrent streaming option for in-person talks) can carry forward into a post-pandemic future. Many are similar to what I highlighted in this post on virtual conferences, around the general theme of accessibility; given that one of my audience members for the Toadstool virtual talk was a scholar and twitter friend of mine who lives in New York City, Joanna Mobley, I’m quite sure that accessibility was a good thing in this case. And if that’s a benefit for the audience (and thus for the speaker as well of course), I would also say that there’s at least one direct benefit to the speaker of preparing a virtual book talk—it really forces us to think about what and how our slides will communicate, to focus on them as a key component of the talk (rather than, for example, just visual accompaniment, which I’ll admit is how I used to think about the slides). That skill remains a work in progress for me, but it’s one I know has improved a good deal thanks to the series of virtual talks I’ve prepared and delivered for Of Thee I Sing.

Next book talk reflection tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Thoughts on this reflection? Ideas for other settings or audiences with whom I could share the book?

June 28, 2021: Talking Of Thee I Sing: GCE Lab School

[Over the last few months, I’ve had the chance to talk about my new book in a number of settings, and as always every such talk has led to distinct and interesting follow-up questions and ideas. So this week I’ll reflect on those continuing conversations, leading up to a special July 4thweekend post on the state of patriotism in 2021!]

On how the coincidental timing of the year’s first book talk helped me further develop my ideas about mythic patriotism.

I scheduled my January 7th Soapbox talk for Chicago’s Global Citizenship Experience Lab School (an innovative and impressive high school) in late 2020, when the Head of School Cabell King (inspired by my USIH column and specifically the idea of “the patriotism we need”) reached out to invite me to give a talk to the school’s students and faculty. Of course I already knew at that time that any talk about the contested history of American patriotism would have to engage with the unfolding contemporary debates around that and so many related issues, and indeed had been thinking about those contemporary connections since I wrote the book’s Conclusion—but I’d be lying if I said I had any idea that I’d be giving my talk the day after an insurrection of Americans claiming to be patriots attacked the US Capitol building.

Obviously my talk was far from the first thing on my mind as I watched the events of January 6th unfold (or read about them on social media, at least—I was with my younger son getting his allergy shots that afternoon). But that evening I began to think through the fact that I would need to engage with those events in my talk, spurred on by a particular, hugely telling quote I encountered the next morning in an excellent Nation magazine storyon the insurrection. The reporter, Andrew McCormick, was following around a number of the day’s rioters/domestic terrorists, and as police began to fire tear gas at the rioters, he writes, “‘This is not America,’ a woman said to a small group, her voice shaking. She was crying, hysterical. ‘They’re shooting at us. They’re supposed to shoot BLM, but they’re shooting the patriots.’” I was already aware that many of the January 6th rioters thought of themselves as patriots, but I was nonetheless struck by such an overt use of the term and knew I had found a quote for my opening slide.

Gradually I realized I had more than that, however—that this quote, singular as it no doubt is, at the same time reflects a core element of the form I patriotism I call mythic patriotism. I define that patriotism as in part the creation of a mythic vision of American history and identity, writing in my book’s intro that it features “narratives that allow for a concurrent embrace of the historical United States but that do so by excluding certain aspects of, and too often communities from, our history.” But as I’ve continued to think about this form of patriotism, I’ve realized that it likewise and relatedly excludes those contemporary Americans who do not participate in the celebrations of this mythic America. And that’s what we see particularly clearly in the January 6thquote—that the speaker and her fellow rioters are patriots in direct contrast to a group like “BLM” (Black Lives Matter protesters), who are thus overtly defined as unpatriotic, even as outside of America, due I would argue to their challenge to the mythic patriotic narrative (as well as their race/culture, because to be clear mythic patriotism is almost always overtly white supremacist as well). All ideas I’ve continued to develop, helped by this first book talk and its coincidental but crucial timing.

Next book talk reflection tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Thoughts on this reflection? Ideas for other settings or audiences with whom I could share the book?

June 26-27, 2021: Kurtis Kendall’s Guest Post on Athlete Activism

[Kurtis is a freelance writerspecializing in blog writing, article writing and editing services. His prominent topics include pieces on sports and eSports. When not writing you can find him hiking throughout the New England wilderness or chilling with his girlfriend’s Saint Bernards.]

                   If Athletes Must “Shut up and dribble,” Then Who is Allowed to Speak on Social Issues?

In the wake of the murder of George Floyd last summer, a noticeable shift occurred nationwide in the perception of professional athletes voicing their opinions on social issues. The NBA displayed “Black Lives Matter” on their court throughout the 2020 playoffs in the bubble. NFL commissioner Roger Goodell finally embraced Colin Kaepernick after years of leading a league that black balled him. The MLB gave their blessing for players to kneel before the first pitch of games, and for “Black Lives Matter” statements to be present on shirts and the pitching mound. The WNBA partnered with its player's association to form a Social Justice Council to advance social issues. Even the NCAA allowed student-athletes to wear patches on their uniforms in support of social issues.

Before this shift, and still in many circles around the country today, some people believed athletes should remain silent on these problems and focus solely on their sport and nothing else. Not only is this a dehumanizing stance, but ignores the obvious fact that athletes, like all of us, are more than performers.

The claim has been made over and over again, that athletes should stick to their domain and leave politics and social issues aside. But if that is the case, then who is allowed to discuss issues that affect people from all different walks of life? Can a grocery store worker? A custodian? A 7th-grade math teacher? An artist? Or do these individuals also have to ‘shut up and work?’ Can they only have opinions and comments on the duties they perform and nothing else?

Should only politicians talk about politics? Why does an individual’s employment dictate the topics they are allowed to discuss? These athletes are people too, and many of them are American citizens. Not to say you have to be an American citizen to speak on these issues, but by being one, they have a right to vote, to protest, to voice what direction they think our country should be headed. These individuals have a platform due to their abilities, yet they are decried as problematic when they use that platform to speak on issues that matter for millions around the country.

Michael Jordan famously once said “Republicans wear sneakers, too,” during his playing days. He knowingly avoided being an activist on social issues, even though he had the platform to bring attention to or make change on any topic he wanted to discuss. Whether he did this for monetary purposes or to avoid scrutiny or something else entirely is only truly known to him. He has said he always saw himself as a basketball player, not a role model. But Jordan shouldn’t be pointed out as a figure to say “see, that’s how an athlete should act.” Jordan has every right not to speak out on issues if he wants to strictly focus on his playing career or his business ventures. But in the same vein, he and every other person also have a right to speak out on issues they deem important enough to voice.

To the detractors, it's not as if this is a new phenomenon in the world of professional sports. Bill Russell, the architect of the original Celtics dynasty was known as much for his activism as for his play on the court. He, along with boxing legend Muhammed Ali, NFL superstar Jim Brown and collegiate athlete at the time Lew Alcindor (Kareem Abdul-Jabar) spoke on these issues during a summit meeting in 1967 where the black athletes came to support Ali and his stance on the Vietnam War.

And these athletes did so during the turbulent 1960s when protesting for civil rights might risk your life and livelihood. They helped to push the nation forward, to advance the conversation, to make progress on issues involving race and equality. For any individual who says athletes should only focus on sports, they also seem to be suggesting that movements athletes have previously helped advance should be disregarded as well.

A few athletes themselves have even stated they should stick to their sport, notably professional footballer Zlatan Ibrahimovic to LeBron James himself. Ibrahimovic said athletes should stick to “what they do best” and leave politics to politicians. In response, James pointed to the fact that many of the fans who watch sports are the people who face these social issues every day, yet lack a platform to bring awareness or create change.

“I will never shut up about things that are wrong. I preach about my people and I preach about equality, social justice, racism, voter suppression – things that go on in our community.

“Because I was a part of my community at one point and saw the things that were going on, and I know what’s still going on because I have a group of 300-plus kids at my school that are going through the same thing and they need a voice.”

Change and progress is created through continually speaking about issues, through avenues like civil disobedience. By talking about an issue and bringing awareness to it, and talking about it some more, and coming up with concrete solutions and actions to address it. Progress is not made by criticizing those who bring to our attention a less than perfect reality.

If the argument is athletes should stick to their domain, then you must apply that across the board, to everyone in their respective job. Construction workers can only talk about construction, lawyers can only discuss the law, factory workers can only talk machinery. In other words, no one, other than those already in charge, can debate the hurdles we must overcome as a society. This isn’t how the world works. We, every single one of us, are more than our profession. A person has a right to voice their concerns on any issue that is affecting the world they live in.

So, the next time you hear someone complain that an athlete has no right to speak out on social issues, simply ask them, then who does?

[Next series starts Monday,

Ben

PS. What do you think?]

June 26, 2021: June 2021 Recap

[A Recap of the month that was in AmericanStudying.]

May 29-30: Sarah Satkowski’s Guest Post on T.C. Boyle: My second great May Guest Post from a student in Robin Field’s Immigration Fiction class at King’s College!

May 31: Remembering Memorial Day: My annual Memorial Day post on what we don’t remember about Memorial Day, and why we should.

June 1: Decoration Day Histories: Frederick Douglass: A Decoration Day series kicks off with one of the great American speeches.

June 2: Decoration Day Histories: Roger Pryor: The series continues with the invitation and speech that mark two shifts in American attitudes.

June 3: Decoration Day Histories: “Rodman the Keeper”: A short story that helps us remember a community for whom the holiday’s meanings didn’t shift, as the series commemorates on.

June 4: Decoration Day Histories: So What?: The series concludes with three reasons to remember Decoration Day alongside Memorial Day.

June 5-6: A Memorial Day Tribute: A special weekend post on the fallen soldiers and veterans’ communities whom we should also better remember.

June 7: Basketball Stories: James Naismith: A series for the NBA’s 75thbirthday kicks off with three interesting contexts for the sport’s inventor.

June 8: Basketball Stories: Wilt Chamberlain and Bill Russell: The series continues with a clear distinction between two iconic greats—and why it’s not quite so clear.

June 9: Basketball Stories: Magic Johnson: Genuine high and low points for the legendary Lakers star, and what they both exemplify, as the series dribbles on.

June 10: Basketball Stories: MJ or LeBron—or Kareem?: Two layers to the GOAT debate, and the player I’d nominate instead.

June 11: Basketball Stories: WNBA Stars: The series concludes with five WNBA stars who help us remember the league’s past and present.

June 12-13: Crowd-sourced Basketball Stories: My latest crowd-sourced post, featuring thoughts from and tributes to fellow BasketballStudiers.

June 14: American Whistleblowers: Daniel Ellsberg: A series for the Pentagon Papers’ 50th anniversary kicks off with three stages in a lifelong fight for transparency and truth.

June 15: American Whistleblowers: Karen Silkwood: The whistleblower series continues with two well-known sides to Silkwood’s story, and one that needs more attention.

June 16: American Whistleblowers: Jeffrey Wigand: Two things Michael Mann’s movie gets right about Wigand, and one layer it’s important to add.

June 17: American Whistleblowers: Edward Snowden: Historical parallels to the 21stcentury whistleblower’s contradictions, and how to reconcile them.

June 18: American Whistleblowers: Chelsea Manning: The particularly fraught and vital role of wartime whistleblowers, as the series rolls on.

June 19-20: American Whistleblowers: Alexander Vindman: The series concludes with the opening paragraphs of my new book, on a critical patriotic contemporary whistleblower.

June 21: Vaccine Studying: Smallpox: For the 300th anniversary of Zabdiel Boylston’s first smallpox inoculations, three figures who deserve memory beyond the Boston doctor.

June 22: Vaccine Studying: John Franklin Enders: The series continues with two types of challenging collective histories we can better remember through the “Father of Modern Vaccines.”

June 23: Vaccine Studying: Polio: Three ways to engage more fully with the complex histories of the polio vaccine, as the series jabs on.

June 24: Vaccine Studying: The Measles: Three telling stages in the history of a frustratingly persistent disease.

June 25: Vaccine Studying: Covid-19: The series concludes with my shortest and most pointed post ever.

4thof July book series starts Monday,

Ben

PS. Topics you’d like to see covered in this space? Guest Posts you’d like to contribute? Lemme know!

June 25, 2021: Vaccine Studying: Covid-19

[June 26th marks the 300th anniversary of Boston physician Zabdiel Boylston’s first inoculations against the raging smallpox epidemic. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy Boylston and other vaccine figures and histories, leading up to Friday’s post on the Covid vaccine!]

Get it!

That’s it, that’s the post.

Seriously. If you’ve already gotten vaccinated, thank you! If you haven’t had a chance yet, please do so ASAP. You can find all the info you need here.

June Recap this weekend,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Vaccine histories or contexts you’d highlight?

June 24, 2021: Vaccine Studying: The Measles

[June 26th marks the 300th anniversary of Boston physician Zabdiel Boylston’s first inoculations against the raging smallpox epidemic. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy Boylston and other vaccine figures and histories, leading up to Friday’s post on the Covid vaccine!]

On three telling stages in the history of a frustratingly persistent disease.

In the mid to late 19th century, outbreaks of the measles devastated two different South Pacific paradises. Beginning with a series of deadly epidemics in 1848-1849 (including whooping cough and influenza as well as measles), and continuing through much of the next decade, the disease took roughly one-fifth of Hawaii’s population. In 1875, the disease was introduced to the tropical island of Fiji by King Cakobau, upon his return from a diplomatic trip to Australia, and before it was contained it had killed 40,000 Fijians, roughly one-third of the small nation’s population. As these and many other outbreaks make clear, measles, often perceived here in the United States as nothing more than a potential childhood annoyance, has been as deadly a worldwide epidemic as any, and remains so: it is estimated to have killed roughly 200 million people between 1855 and 2005, and the World Health Organization (WHO) estimated that 158,000 were killed in 2011 alone.

The fact that the disease has come to be perceived so differently in late 20thcentury America (and beyond) is due directly to two interconnected individuals. In 1954, medical study of David Edmonston, a 13 year old infected with the disease (one of many affected by an outbreak at a Boston private school), allowed for the virus that causes it to be isolated for the first time; the efforts of one young researcher, Dr. Thomas Peebles, were instrumental in achieving this success (as was the work of Tuesday’s subject, John Franklin Enders). Subsequent work over the next decade to develop a vaccine culminated in the 1963 successful creation of one by Maurice Hilleman, a researcher and vaccination specialist working at Merck; Hilleman’s vaccine (eventually folded into what is now known as the MMR [Measles Mumps Rubella] shot) has been estimated to prevent up to 1 million deaths each year. To my mind, few developments capture the best of the 20th century better than vaccines, and their combination of science, technology, research and collaboration, and international efforts to improve lives and communities; by any measure, Hilleman and the MMR certainly have to occupy prominent spots on that list.

Which brings us to now, and a particularly frustrating 21st century trend. As those WHO estimates indicate, measles has never been eradicated; but it has nonetheless made a striking recent return to our conversations, thanks in no small measure to a new American community: the anti-vaccinaters. This community has been around and making its controversial case for nearly two decades, aided and abetted by a fraudulent researcher and his hoax of a scientific study, but a recent outbreak of measles, caused it seems by the presence of unvaccinated and infected individuals at California’s Disneyland, has brought the community and the disease together in our collective consciousness. There are lots of ways to argue against this extreme and dangerous perspective, but to my mind chief among them would have to be a better understanding of each of these prior two stages: the long-term history and effects of measles, and the hugely destructive force of outbreaks such as those in Hawaii and Fiji; and the vital breakthroughs and successes of the vaccines, and the way they have turned measles into something manageable instead. It’s difficult for me to imagine anyone who would want a return to that earlier stage in the arc of this epidemic.

Last VaccineStudying tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Vaccine histories or contexts you’d highlight?