Pandemics: Past and Present
“Everyone is potentially infected
and so everyone is at risk.”
Richard Horton, The Covid 19 Catastrophe
One afternoon recently I walked to Parc Laurier, imagining I’d see a statue of the first Canadian Prime Minister from Quebec.
But I was disappointed. To see a monument to Wifrid Laurier (1841–1919), I had to go downtown to Dorchester Square. Placed there in 1953, his statue faces south, for he supported improving trade relations with the U.S. to counter Canada’s dependence on Britain.
He turns his back on the Boer War monument; he did not support Canadian participation in that British imperialist project, but, as Prime Minister (1896–1911), he did allow a volunteer force to fight.
And he now stares at an empty pediment in Place du Canada — formerly occupied by a statue of Canada’s first prime minister, John A. MacDonald, pulled down and decapitated during last summer’s protests because of his treatment of First Nations peoples, especially the creation of residential schools.
Looking at Laurier’s statue during the current pandemic, I started thinking about that earlier flu that hit toward the end of World War I. Largely forgotten or repressed, though it killed more people than the war did.
How do we remember World War I?
Not as a noble, moral crusade as the Canadian government branded it at the time, but as pointless carnage that ravaged a whole generation.
Even during the war, there was resistance to the government narrative, especially in Quebec where conscription was bitterly resented; many regarded Canadian participation in the war as a way of entrenching the power of the English elite.
Several anti- conscription riots took place and soldiers from Ontario fired into a crowd in Quebec City, killing four and injuring others.
Although Laurier usually supported compromise, he opposed the draft and refused to join Conservatives in Robert Borden’s Unionist government of 1917 although Liberals from English Canada did so.
During the pandemic, military authorities went in search of Quebec draft resisters even as the armistice was being signed, with what seemed like vindictive enthusiasm. Those caught were jailed, exposing them to increased risk of infection.
Ships with troops returning from fighting in Europe spread the contagion, but jurisdictional issues — deciding which bureaucracy was responsible, military or civilian — made imposing quarantine on the soldiers difficult. And at first flu was not considered a quarantinable disease, so it took some time to recognize the urgency of the situation.
Then secrecy was imposed on troop trains sent to fight in the Civil War in Russia on the side of the White Russians against the Bolsheviks. Borden (1854–1937) wanted Canada to play a more significant role in foreign affairs, both supporting Britain and taking on increased Canadian initiative. Opposition to Communism in Russia dovetailed with repression of unions and workers at home.
Troops in the Siberian Expedionary Force, transported by train from Halifax to Vancouver, spread the little understood germs in every town they passed through. Montreal was especially hard hit, with a death rate higher per capita than that of London.
But press censorship, imposed to avoid aiding the enemy or causing panic, meant that few Canadians understood what was happening.
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Soldiers who died in battle might be seen as making a patriotic sacrifice, but those who succumbed to the flu perished in vain, often due to the incompetence of military authorities who seemed to have little concern for the health of the troops in their focus on war. No cenotaphs are erected in memory of flu victims.
War inevitably increases the power of the state as resources are mobilized, opposition repressed as “unpatriotic.” But it took some time for the government to focus on the flu as a public health emergency.
Many Canadians wondered why a government that could organize for war could not protect both soldiers and civilians from disease. It seemed that military authorities dealt with flu by ignoring its existence, much like the Trump administration today in the U.S.
After World War I, the Canadian government did establish a federal public health office although many preferred to leave this authority to the provinces.
Not until the 1930s was a virus recognized as the cause of influenza; at the time most doctors believed it was caused by bacteria. In 1944, scientists developed the first flu vaccines.
In 2020 we know so much more about pathogens than we did in 1918. Scientists have sequenced the corona virus genome, improved tests for the disease, and are in the process of developing vaccines. For serious cases, we have ICUs with ventilators, so some endangered lives can be saved.
But there are still many unknowns, e.g. why some suffer mild cases while others die; why many continue to suffer serious health problems after they “recover.”
And in terms of prevention, we don’t have any new strategies at all: wearing masks and keeping away from others, especially in crowds and indoors — that’s what we would have done to avoid illness in 1918 and what we are advised to do today.
Nonetheless, we are certainly better informed than our ancestors about the pandemic since we can see updates in the news every day and on social media. How does this information deluge affect us?
Just as in the past, many are critical of government policies to limit contagion, some arguing that restrictions are too harsh, and others demanding more stringent efforts to stop the spread of infection.
Although we may be better informed, we are suffering a similar “catastrophic loss of social trust.”
All may be at risk, but we know that the risks are not equitably distributed; this injustice breeds resentment.
As we note spikes in new cases and re-imposition of restrictions, we also see more resistance as some protest against mask mandates and businesses like gyms threaten to open when they’ve been forbidden to do so.
Even if we’ve escaped covid-19, we may be afflicted with “pandemic fatigue.” That “novel” virus has become so old and boring.
Robert Borden who presided over Canada during World War I and the pandemic (1911–1920) has a prominent statue on Parliament Hill in Ottawa, but there are no monuments dedicated to him in Montreal. Although he pushed for Canada to have its own representation at the Treaty of Versailles and in the League of Nations rather than continue to be overshadowed by Britain, his imposition of conscription and failure with the pandemic tarnish his memory.
The post-World War I flu disappeared as mysteriously as it arrived. Will the same thing happen to our corona virus? Some politicians insist that it will or that scientists working on vaccines will soon save us.
In the meantime, all we can do is put on our masks and avoid one another, just as our great grandparents did.
