This article appeared in the "Editor's File"
in The Textbook Letter, September-October 1993.
Recommended Reading
William J. Bennetta
It's the same story, recited sleepily in one history text after
another. Glencoe's Challenge of Freedom tells it this
way:
By the early 1700's, there were more Europeans living in the
Americas than Indians. In part, this was because the Indians did
not have natural immunity -- resistance to infection --
against European diseases. European diseases such as measles,
smallpox, and typhus killed many [Indians] in the 1600's and
1700's.
Here is the version given in Heath's World History:
Perspectives on the Past:
Before the Spanish came, the deadly germs of smallpox,
measles, and influenza were unknown in the Americas. The Indians
did not have the immunities that Europeans had developed through
long contact with those diseases. Columbus's voyages ended the
Americas' isolation. . . . Indians were exposed to germs carried
by European explorers and colonizers.
Deadly epidemics, or rapid spreading of diseases, swept over
the Caribbean islands. Smallpox wiped out whole villages in a
matter of months. . . . In the first century of Spanish rule
(1500-1600), Indians in Central and South America sickened and
died by the millions. By 1650, the population of central Mexico
had declined by 85 percent.
The same tale, again and again. Columbus discovers the New
World. Europeans surge across the sea, bringing their diseases
with them. The diseases sweep through American Indian
populations, causing massive mortality, and the Europeans take
over.
I have yet to see a textbook that explores or even
acknowledges the questions that must occur to any alert reader.
Didn't diseases move both ways? If Europeans carried Old World
pathogens that could devastate Indian populations, didn't the
Indians carry New World pathogens that could destroy Europeans? If
not, why not?
Scientists and historians have examined these questions and have
developed answers that will be interesting to all teachers who take
history seriously and who respect their students' intelligence and
curiosity. The answers are given in various publications, but they
are presented with exceptional cogency and skill in Alfred W.
Crosby's book Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of
Europe, 900 - 1900, issued in 1986 by Cambridge University Press
(40 West 20th Street, New York, New York 10011).
Crosby is a professor of American studies at the University of
Texas at Austin. Ecological Imperialism is his account of
how Europeans have spread over the globe and have turned some
distant lands into what he calls "Neo-Europes." Australia, North
America and southern South America are Neo-Europes, as are New
Zealand and some smaller islands or island groups. In all these
places, ecosystems have been recently and profoundly altered by
the arrival of the European human and the other European
organisms that he has brought with him: his livestock, his pets,
his vermin, his crop plants, his weeds, and his pathogens.
This perspective, in which the European human is seen as one
member of a big assemblage of European organisms, is crucial to
understanding the epidemics that Europeans unleashed upon other
peoples -- not only in the New World but all over the globe.
Those epidemics, it turns out, resulted from interactions that
had taken place, much earlier, between the European human and his
domesticated animals.
The schoolbooks that I mentioned earlier are almost right in one
respect. By default, they give the impression that, during
European colonization of the Americas, disease flowed in only one
direction. That isn't strictly accurate, but as far as
destructive epidemics are concerned, what the books imply is
true: European diseases ravaged and reduced Indian populations,
but no Indian diseases had comparable effects on the Europeans.
The problem now is to explain that lopsided situation.
The solution lies in the biology of the European pathogens
themselves. Afflictions such as smallpox and measles and typhus
are known as crowd diseases and are specifically associated with
big populations of humans. In a small, isolated group of people, a
crowd-disease pathogen (e.g., the measles virus) can't last for
long. It races through the group, in an epidemic, and every person
is infected; every person then either perishes or develops an
enduring immunity, and the pathogen dies out because there is no one
left whom it can infect. But wherever humans gather to form a
large, concentrated population (as in an urban center), things are
different. Here the pathogen can persist even after an epidemic,
because births and immigration continually provide enough new hosts
to keep the pathogen going, and if the number of new hosts grows
sufficiently large, another epidemic may ensue. In such an
environment -- the sort of environment that the interconnected urban
centers of Europe have furnished since ancient times -- a
crowd-disease pathogen can prosper indefinitely.
Crowd-disease pathogens infect humans, but they evolved from
organisms that infect cattle, horses and other beasts that live
in big herds. This evolution took place in permanent population
centers where Europeans dwelt in continuous contact with
domesticated animals, and where pathogens were continuously
passed from human to beast and back again.
In the New World, no such thing happened. The population centers
weren't as old, as numerous or as closely interconnected as the
urban centers of Europe were, and the Indians didn't live in
intimate association with animals that harbored herd infections,
so Indian populations didn't engender any endemic diseases
comparable to smallpox, measles or the other crowd diseases that
arose in Europe. And because the Indians simply did not have any
crowd diseases to disseminate, epidemic infections could flow in
only one direction when the Indians and the Europeans met.
Postscript History texts seem always to imply that
the havocking of New World populations by European diseases is a thing of the past. That
is not true; the process is still going on. In this context, I note that history
teachers and social-studies teachers can serve their students well by recounting what is
happening to the Yanomamö, a tribe of Stone Age people, dwelling chiefly in the rain
forests of Venezuela, who only recently have come into extensive, sustained contact with
European humans and European microbes. The anthropologist Napoleon A. Chagnon, of the
University of California at Santa Barbara, tells this tribe's story in a compelling book
titled Yanomamö: The Last Days of Eden, published in 1992 by Harcourt Brace &
Company (1250 Sixth Avenue, San Diego, California 92101).
The Yanomamö case is all the more instructive because it revolves around missionaries:
Roman Catholic priests of the Salesian order, to whom Venezuelan law gives responsibility
for "attracting and reducing" the indigenous people. In both cultural and biological
terms, these priests are doing the same things that other priests did, 200 years ago,
during the Spanish colonization of California. Yanomamö: The Last Days of
Eden can help teachers connect the past to the present in a vivid way, and I recommend
it heartily.
William J. Bennetta is a professional editor, a fellow of the
California Academy of Sciences, the president of The Textbook
League, and the editor of The Textbook Letter. He writes
often about the propagation of quackery, false "science" and
false "history" in schoolbooks.
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