After a human case of bubonic plague was confirmed in Pueblo County last week, CU Boulder scholar Thora Brylowe explores why it and all plagues inspire such terror
Of all the specters humanity fearsâthe storms and wars, the failures and disasters and vagaries of natureâperhaps none is so pervasive and terrible as plague.
Not just Plague with a capital Pâbubonic plague, caused by the Yersinia pestis bacterium, the Black Death of 14th-century Europe that killed anywhere between 25 million and 200 million peopleâbut all plagues, real or fictional, that sweep in from other places or rise from Earth itself, scything through populations with maddening indifference, toppling cities and civilizations, swapping hard-won humanity for the animalistic instinct to survive.
When Pueblo Department of Public Health and Environment officials last week, the announcement made . Even though we have long known that Yersinia pestis is transmitted by fleas and cycles among wild rodent populations, and even though it can be treated with antibiotics and human cases are now extremely rare, mention of this plagueâand of all plaguesâstill can spark fear.
In an era of vaccines, antibiotics and multi-platform public health campaigns, and of more accurately terming them epidemics or pandemics, why are plagues still so terrifying?
âOne reason is that plague can have this intense moral valence,â says Thora Brylowe, an associate professor in the University of Colorado Boulder Department of English who has taught a course called . âFor a lot of history, people have viewed plagues as Godâs punishment. We saw that at the beginning of the AIDS epidemic, where some people were saying God was punishing certain populations.
âAnd if itâs not Godâs punishment, then it might be framed as survival of the fittest, which we saw during COVID. Weâre desperate to find reasons for why this thing we canât control, or donât think we can control, is happening.â
A history of plague
The fear of plague, the horrible death it brings and its inexorable and ruinous march through entire populations, countries and continents has informed human history keeping and art almost since the beginning of such things. The 10 Plagues of Egypt detailed in the book of Exodus in the Old Testamentâestimated to have been written in the 13th century BCEâstill hold a terrible fascination.Ìę
Likewise, the Plague of Thebes, ultimately attributed to Oedipusâ sins in Sophoclesâ 429 BCE play Oedipus Rex, can still stir anguish two millennia later:
For all our ship, thou see'st, is weak and sore
Shaken with storms, and no more lighteneth
Her head above the waves whose trough is death.
She wasteth in the fruitless buds of earth,
In parchĂšd herds and travail without birth
Of dying women: yea, and midst of it
A burning and a loathly god hath lit
Sudden, and sweeps our land, this Plague of power;
Till Cadmus' house grows empty, hour by hour,
And Hell's house rich with steam of tears and blood.
Oedipus Rex is one of the works that Brylowe uses or references in teaching Plague and Pandemic, a list that also includes Daniel Defoeâs 1722 CE Journal of the Plague Year and more modern works like Kim Stanley Robinsonâs 2002 novel The Years of Rice and Salt and the 2021 board game Bristol 1350.
Through art and historical documents involving plague, certain themes emerge, Brylowe says, including a desire to âotherâ certain populations as plague bringers or plague carriers; to frame plague as something that came from outside or faraway places; and to answer the possibly unanswerable question of what it means to be human.
Plague is morally fraught, Brylowe addsâfrom forced inoculations for smallpox and involuntary removal to isolated colonies for people with leprosy (ostensibly undertaken in the name of population health) to willfully ignoring plagues happening on other continents.
âIf you look at the Ebola narrative, initially it was that this was happening in a little remote village in western Africa and nobody was doing anything about it, but then somebody got on an airplane and now itâs going to kill us all,â Brylowe says. âWe were able to ignore it until suddenly itâs in Virginia.
âIt doesnât help that plagues have been really sensationalized, and the way we talk about them isnât always accurate. I remember reading (Richard Prestonâs 1995) The Hot Zone, and my takeaway was that Russia has huge, sloshing buckets of smallpox lying around. Iâm not sure thatâs a great way to talk about what we fear.â
Fear of the uncontrollable
Fear, howeverâespecially fear of what we seemingly canât controlâdoes inspire art. What is the zombie genre, Brylowe asks, if not an exploration of plague? âThere also are a lot of arguments for vampirism being a form of plague, if you think about it as a disease spread through blood,â Brylowe explains. âSo much of the plague narrative is exploring how it makes you either not human or less human.
âItâs interesting when that runs into our desire for human beings to ultimately be good, for humanity to triumph in a ruined world. In Train to Busan, which is a movie I love, the single dad saves his daughter and saves the day by sacrificing himself in a zombie outbreak, and we see that as a very good and moral outcome. When that equation is flipped, like in The Walking Dead, and the plague is not Godâs punishment, but humans are the monsters, thatâs a moral complication thatâs maybe more realistic but probably canât give us a happy ending.â
Plague in art often reflects humanityâs fears and uncertainties specific to the time in which itâs created, Brylowe says, which may help explain why current books and films dealing with plague are often associated with climate changeâplague-causing viruses emerging from razed rainforests, plague species growing uncontrolled in rising and warming oceans.
Exploring plague in art also is a way of exploring and understanding self, she says: âAt a basic level, plague is about our bodies. This is where we really see the subject-object dichotomy. Itâs saying, âIf this thing that is not me infects me, what does that mean for my body as an object?â We talk about plague as a way to explore the relationship between mind and body. I think thatâs part of the reason why monsters that look like humans but are not human are so scary. The body as an object has taken over, and we donât know where self exists anymore.â
Top image: Bettmann Archive/Getty Images
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