Monday, 10 August 2020

Laying the foundations for eradicating smallpox

The WHO Collaborating Centre on Global Health Histories supported by the Wellcome Trust has produced a series of seminars and webinars which discuss the WHO’s successful programme to eradicate smallpox, focusing on a diverse spread of national drives early in the programme which were integral to its eventual success.

The three seminars can be viewed and/or listened to here:

The fruits of a new internationalism?: South Asian governments, the WHO and global smallpox (GHH seminar 26, 2 October 2008)

Speaker: Dr Sanjoy Bhattacharya, now Professor in the History of Medicine and Director of the Centre for Global Health Histories at the University of York and of the WHO Collaborating Centre for Global Health Histories. 

 The Creation & Expansion of the Worldwide Smallpox Eradication Programme (GHH seminar 121,March 2019)

Speakers: Lu Chen (University of York), Dr Susan Heydon (University of Otago), Dr Carlos Campani (University of York) and Dr Namrata Ganneri (University of York and SNDT College of Arts & SCB College of Commerce and Science for Women, Mumbai).

Smallpox eradication 40 years on (Cultural Contexts of Health (CCH)* and GHH 138 webinar, 5 November 2019)

Speakers: Dr Namrata Ganneri (University of York, and SNDT College of Arts & SCB College of Commerce and Science for Women, Mumbai), Mr John F Wickett, World Health Organization (retired). 

*The CCH webinars are a subset of the WHO GHH seminars, delivered for the CCH project based in WHO Europe

This briefing draws on the speeches and material presented at those seminars.

 

On 8 May 1980, the World Health Organization (WHO) made a declaration which would have been considered impossible only a few years earlier: the disease smallpox was declared eradicated from the world. To date, no other human disease has been eradicated in this way.

 

It followed a concerted programme coordinated by the WHO to eradicate smallpox, first discussed at the World Health Assembly (WHA) in 1957, and proposed and voted in the WHA of 1958. Most attention has focused on the so-called ‘intensified phase’ of the eradication programme from the late 1960s onwards. Yet this was only made possible by the work that preceded it: a range of very different drives in different countries.

 

Some of those early drives were partial, and/or dependent upon the political and socioeconomic context. All of them were produced at a time when technology, understanding and access were very different from today. They cannot be summed up as a simple set of strategies that ‘worked or didn’t work’. But they did provide the initial data about a range of socio-political contexts, and this in turn justified the continuation and extension of the entire WHO programme. They were an essential precursor to the ‘intensified phase’, and specific themes certainly do emerge from their work. 

 

The WHO smallpox eradication programme


Over the past 40 years the effects of smallpox have often been downplayed. In reality, the disease, particularly the more lethal form of variola major, had posed a major threat for thousands of years. Those who survived (and many did not: some estimates suggest that variola major had a mortality rate of up to one in two) might be blinded, made sterile or otherwise damaged – and, obviously, often significantly disfigured by the characteristic ‘pockmark’ scars. 

 

The difficulties of eradicating smallpox have also been downplayed. Although smallpox does not have animal hosts, it is highly infectious. Nor was it possible, even in the 1950s, to confine eradication to specific locations. One message that comes through very clearly from the earliest years of the eradication programme is that ‘disease is global’, and that it can be repeatedly reintroduced to areas which have been declared free of infection. The original proposal in 1957 to the WHA which led to the WHO’s smallpox eradication programme (SEP) came from the Soviet Union, which had attempted to eradicate the disease but found that had been reintroduced several times. 

 

The SEP involved a lot of complex negotiations (including over funding and supplies of vaccine and equipment) and encountered a series of unexpected challenges. It gained traction and support from 1967 when the programme was officially ‘intensified’. Yet, points out Professor Sanjoy Bhattacharya, director of the Centre for Global Health Histories at the University of York and of the WHO Collaborating Centre for Global Health Histories, “there is detailed evidence-based research which shows that international engagements between 1958 and 1967 were rich and important”. In four areas in particular, vaccination and surveillance programmes had made significant progress by the time of intensification – and the evidence from those made it easier for international groups of officials to advocate the wider programme.

 

More centralised approaches: China and Brazil 


In China the disease was eradicated without WHO involvement, and before the intensified programme started. China is, however, a very specific case, having withdrawn from WHO membership completely under the Communist government. “Smallpox eradication was carried out within local health structures, and the political and social and geographical and cultural and epidemiological realities,” says Lu Chen of the University of York. 

 

In the 1950s, smallpox was highly endemic in China – not as much as in India but more than in other bordering countries – and one of the most fatal diseases in the country. The Chinese eradication programme started in 1950, with a mass vaccination programme for the whole of mainland China. The three main rounds of vaccination (1950 to 1953,1955 to 1958 and 1960) eliminated and/or reduced the disease considerably in a number of areas, but it was repeatedly reintroduced. “It was a continual process of elimination in different areas,” Chen explains. The last case was found in 1965, before the WHO increased communication with China.

 

The Chinese programme was carried out at a time when China was experiencing very low economic growth, and food was scarce. Yet it still managed finally to eliminate smallpox in the country. This was very much part of a wider government commitment to improve public health in general. “Disease and poor sanitation were considered an enemy of progress,” says Chen. “It was highly political and ideological.” There was a widespread health education campaign, using a number of different media and popular art forms. All children were vaccinated periodically from the ages of six months to 18; and any new cases were to be reported to the authorities within a matter of hours. 

 

In the late 1970s China finally engaged with the WHO and submitted a country report; it received certification as smallpox-free in 1979. It was the achievement, as Chen says, of “national and regional health officials, research scientists, local health workers and vaccinators. We need to acknowledge the names unknown; stories untold; and voices unheard.”

 

In Brazil, a centrally-driven programme was actually made possible as the result of a military coup in 1964. The earlier, more dispersed, programmes were centralised as a result – and, importantly, the new government wanted national and international recognition and legitimacy, which an eradication programme could provide. The last case in Brazil was recorded in 1971.

 

Smallpox had posed less of a threat in Brazil than in China, but there were major outbreaks every three to six years, especially in the ports – with a knock-on effect on commerce. “Every disease that disrupted international commerce was a priority for public health,” explains Dr Carlos Eduardo Campani, who is now at the Royal London Hospital. Compared to other diseases, however, smallpox was increasingly considered less important, especially after 1930 when variola minor became the more prevalent form. “It was accepted as minor and curable, and no longer a priority,” says Campani. Smallpox became the responsibility of small local agencies, and vaccination was mainly carried out only in urban areas. Pockets of the disease remained, and it was reintroduced from neighbouring countries. 

 

The Pan American Health Organization (PAHO) launched a continental eradication programme in 1950 but vaccination remained decentralised to local programmes. Even after the WHO programme was launched in 1958, and decisions about smallpox policy were made centrally, Brazil lacked resources and above all the vaccine to combat the disease effectively. When a national campaign against smallpox was launched in 1962, with vaccine provided by government, it was still hugely inconsistent. “The 26 different states organised their own programmes,” says Campani. “There was a lot of variation in how they approached the problem, and two big problems: it was heavily underfunded – there was no funding for vaccination at all 1963 – and there was a lot of political instability at that period.” Yet nearly 24m people were in fact vaccinated between 1962 and 1966, when the health ministry took over the programme, with the goal of vaccinating 90 per cent of the population and Brazil started working with WHO technical support and funding.

 

 “When you’re asked about how long you’ve been married, I believe you should date it back to when you started to date. The whole history is important for your marriage,” Campani points out. “And similarly, you can’t lose the story of smallpox eradication before 1967 in Brazil. National particularities must be taken account of. If we lose that, we lose the evidence of how the support was built on the ground for political decisions.”

 

More decentralised approaches: India and Nepal


India is the part of the world where smallpox has been most endemic since earliest history. It is the home of variola major, with major epidemics every five to seven years and seasonal peaks between December and May. There were also complex historical, social and religious associations with the disease (see below). Yet the early stages of India’s own eradication programme, launched in 1962, only granted limited WHO involvement. And when the WHO SEP entered its intensified phase India – unlike nearly all the other 34 countries where smallpox was endemic – did not immediately set up a WHO-assisted campaign.

 

However, work from India made a significant contribution to the SEP. Dr Namrata Ganneri, Commonwealth Rutherford Fellow at CGHH and the History Department, University of York, and SNDT College of Arts and CB College of Commerce and Science for Women, Mumbai, has charted the contribution of Indian health officials to the WHO SEP: in particular the work of Dr KM Lal, the director of the National Smallpox Eradication Programme (NSEP). Dr Lal made a presentation of his findings to the first WHO expert committee in January 1964 which set a target of 100 per cent of the population in its first ‘attack’ phase, in all probability drawing from the Indian experience. The WHO records also singled out the use of family registers and independent appraisals of the programme in different parts of India as a template for national control programmes in other countries, along with ‘concurrent evaluation’ (evaluating the programme as it was being carried out). 

 

The first pilots for the Indian NSEP were set up in 1959 after a massive outbreak of smallpox (and also cholera) the previous year. Specially recruited teams moved systematically from house to house and from village to village throughout a district in an effort to vaccinate or revaccinate not less than 80 per cent of the population, with the aim of creating herd immunity so that transmission would terminate spontaneously. Alongside this, ‘enumerators’ compiled comprehensive registers for each area, to check that sufficient numbers had been successfully vaccinated. After the first round of vaccinations, local health units were responsible for vaccinating people omitted from the first programme. 

 

Finally, there was an injunction to revaccinate every five years, and to vaccinate the contacts of anyone who did contract smallpox – because, despite the programme, there were still repeated outbreaks of the disease, including a major one in the winter of 1963 after which the target was changed to 100 per cent vaccination coverage. The programme was repeatedly assessed and evaluated, and successive reports were produced; and while WHO involvement remained limited it was at least increased. 

 

India did eventually respond to the intensified programme. More vaccine became available, as the result of bilateral agreements between different states; and, importantly, the Indian programme also became more centralised. “With a powerful centralising Prime Minister, assurance of more funding and more vaccine, states started to come on board and the government started to increase its financial input,” says Bhattacharya. “The government cleared many more international personnel to work in India and WHO officials were able to work more efficiently with district officials and at village level.” However, Ganneri points out, the work of the previous years underpinned both the Indian and the global SEP. “The global programme itself was rapidly changing and drawing on experiences from the field, and the Indian experience became central to the WHO eradication strategy. Perhaps it is time to study national stories upwards rather than from the international level down.”

 

Nepal was one of the last areas to eradicate smallpox; it was classified as no longer endemic in 1973 and the last case was in 1975. The WHO’s attitude to Nepal moved “from despair to praise,” says Dr Susan Heydon of the University of Otago as the country finally succeeded in a mass vaccination, surveillance and control programme.

 

Nepal did engage with the WHO, starting with the smallpox control pilot project known as WHO Project Nepal 9. Cooperation and involvement with Nepal through the WHO’s South-East Asia Regional Office (SEARO) “offered a strategy for Nepal, with its limited resources, towards achieving its own goals for better health services”, Heydon explains. This included support for a smallpox control pilot project to start in early 1962 in the Kathmandu valley, aiming to build a ‘nucleus’ of vaccination activities and expand ‘as and when possible’ to other areas. Although it had the huge advantages of freeze-dried vaccine and fridges for storage (see below) the project encountered a number of setbacks – outsiders constantly underestimated the enormous logistical difficulties – and the annual field visits from SEARO consistently found that despite the large numbers of vaccinations and revaccinations, numbers simply were not enough to achieve control. 

 

In 1965 the government of Nepal decided independently to extend the programme, and the following year the government and WHO drew up a revised plan of operation for ‘smallpox eradication and control of other communicable disease’, which superseded the previous project.

 

Alongside this, Heydon highlights three rather different initiatives which also ran before the intensified SEP. One was the 1965 locally-initiated and organised Medical Association drive to vaccinate all children in Morang and Sunsari districts, Kosi Zone. Working with the panchayat (district authority) and local structures, this achieved higher vaccination rates and coverage than the WHO pilot project. “The pilot was the largest communicable disease programme then in Nepal, but it achieved but low coverage,” Heydon points out. “This local initiative in 1965 showed how it could be better.”

 

By contrast, the other two initiatives involved “non-expert foreigners” – responding, importantly, to local demands and requests. The first was in the Mount Everest area, where Edmund Hillary’s Mount Everest expedition team met its first case of smallpox near the village of Lukla on 12 March1963. The epidemic was by then starting to spread between the valley villages. Hillary’s team set out to vaccinate as many people as possible, operating independently and mainly using vaccine obtained from the WHO representative in Kathmandu. They eventually vaccinated around 7,000 people. 

The second was in the Lamjung district where Peace Corps volunteers Don Messerschmidt and Bruce Morrison worked again through the panchayat to organise nearly 20,000 vaccinations in early 1964 – although they, like the Everest team members, were not officially health workers. There were effectively no health services in the area, and Messerschmidt and Morrison had considerable difficulty in obtaining sufficient supplies of vaccine (see below). 

 

“These early years highlighted many challenges but also offered ways forward and around,” Heydon points out. “The later success built on these foundations. And the goal was worldwide eradication: so small countries matter and need to be part of the history.” 

 

Beliefs about smallpox and vaccination


In a number of countries (such as Brazil at the beginning of the eradication programme there) health officials felt that a smallpox drive was the wrong priority for healthcare resources and priorities. As a result, vaccination teams were sometimes refused assistance (and this continued right through the intensified programme). 

 

In China, vaccination was already widely accepted, although there was some resistance in border areas and areas with a non-Chinese minority population. The vaccinators were selected from local cadres, local teachers and medical students (since there were not enough medical personnel). “These people were already familiar and trusted, so its was easier to get people vaccinated,” Chen explains. Alongside this, the government targeted the population – over half of which was still illiterate – through peer pressure from local cadres, broadcast media and traditional folk art performances. The message was highly political and ideological: vaccination was presented as a way to protect against the threats from the US, Russia and bacteria. 

 

India, by contrast, presented some very different challenges. The whole issue of smallpox vaccination already had a long and complicated history, and there were a number of beliefs that vaccination itself was dangerous and would inflict damage (for instance, that it caused people’s hands to fall off). There was also a complex range of beliefs specifically about smallpox, particularly in terms of the balance between heat and cool. “For Hindus, smallpox was seen as a visitation from the goddess Sitala (or Mariyamman in South India). Smallpox can arise also from her wrath but she also has the power to cool the disease and prevent it being fatal,” says Ganneri. Smallpox is also seen by the Ayurvedic medical tradition as the result of an imbalance between heat and cool. 

 

“It wasn’t a simple opposition of science versus irrationality and/or religion,” explains Bhattacharya. “People could believe in several remedies simultaneously; and indeed many people first had their children vaccinated, and then took them to be blessed in local temples.” “Religion is important but not as important as it may be made out to be,” Ganneri adds. “Traditional ideas about cause and treatment are very important as the backdrop to the eradication programme.” In fact, she points out, the main resistance came not from the rural but from government officials and from the more educated population. For instance, vaccination meant one was unable to work for several days; the vaccinators usually came from the so-called lower castes, which meant they might be refused access to upper-caste households; and so on. “Complex stories need to be unravelled about what we see as resistance and what we see as acceptance. Resistance needs to be understood on its own terms.”

 

“Vaccinators had to convince repeatedly that vaccination was safe. I think the active voices of local health officials did get across, and this was an important part of negotiations,” says Bhattacharya “Efforts were made to find if others believed those problems would arise more widely and if so, the best way to negotiate with the elders and/or headmen.”

 

Logistics and delivery


One huge issue was the availability and also the type of vaccine. The liquid (glycerinated) form of the vaccine needed to be kept refrigerated at all times, whereas the freeze-dried form only needed to be kept away from direct sunlight. China was in the ideal position here: the country manufactured its own freeze-dried vaccine, and different manufacturing areas covered different areas of the country, so there was no need to import large quantities.

 

Other countries were in a very different position. In Brazil, the early rural projects before 1962 only received the liquid vaccine (freeze-dried was used in a few urban areas). India produced its own liquid vaccine but also received freeze-dried vaccine from the Netherlands and (after complex negotiations) from the Soviet Union. Scandinavian countries were also ready to pass on the technology for producing a vaccine. It was not till the intensified programme got underway that large amounts of Indian-manufactured freeze-dried vaccine became available.

 

Along with the vaccine itself, teams needed fridges to keep it in – and especially in these early years this could be a major sticking-point. In Nepal, however, although the WHO Regional Office for South-East Asia did make provision for refrigeration and also made the freeze-dried vaccine available, a lot of logistical problems remained. “One of the big issues was actually getting started,” says Heydon, pointing out that agencies consistently underestimated the difficulties of getting almost anything achieved. This was a country without roads, and where a phone call between Lamjung and Kathmandu was routed through 14 different operators – which was why over the Christmas of 1963 the Peace Corps volunteers Morrison and Messerschmidt simply walked to the capital, taking several days, in order to get hold of more vaccine. John Wickett, who worked with the WHO, recalls how the day-to-day issues of organising and servicing vehicles were absolutely crucial. “To maintain the key strategy of surveillance of outbreaks, you had to have the mobility of staff. If you didn’t have a vehicle or some means of transport you weren’t going to get the outbreaks contained.” That might mean trucks, boats, or even helicopters.

 

Finally, vaccinators were not always well-trained in their work; and quite a few refused to adopt newer products or vaccination techniques In Brazil, some teams initially used ‘jet injectors’ from a fixed location, whereas others used ‘multipuncture’ techniques, going from house to house, till the first method was shown to be both more efficient and much cheaper. 

 

The move towards a global programme


Eradicating smallpox was a huge achievement. It took many attempts, in different parts of the world, with different levels of success: from the government programmes in China to the two-person volunteer drives in Nepal. Some (notably China) did not engage with the WHO SEP at all. Others used a mix of foreign assistance and national or local work. None of them were possible if the people at risk of smallpox refused to be vaccinated. 

 

“The world needed to work together to ensure that smallpox was gone for good,” Bhattacharya concludes. “That is where history can help, to point out the particular conditions existing in different localities where challenges were met and overcome. And there is no doubt that this enables us to prepare for future outbreaks of infectious disease.”

 

Radhika Holmström is a Wellcome Trust-funded writer and communications specialist working with the WHO Global Health Histories project at the University of York.

Thursday, 23 May 2019

Photography and the Languages of Reconstruction after the Second World War

Last month, CGHH’s Deputy Director Dr Alexander Medcalf spoke on the WHO’s public information strategies at the ‘Photography and the Languages of Reconstruction after the Second World War’ conference at Cardiff University (www.cardiff.ac.uk/events/view/photography-and-the-languages-of-reconstruction-after-the-second-world-war,-1944-49). Drawing on his articles on the WHO in the Journal of Global History and Medical History, Dr Medcalf gives us a brief introduction to how the WHO used photographs as part of its public information activities.

"The WHO created a public information office (PIO) to address the section of its Constitution which specified that education and information for the public was necessary for the WHO to achieve its goals. For health measures to have lasting value, people of all ages needed to be persuaded to take an interest and responsibility for solving their health problems and those affecting their community. However, the WHO recognised that in order for this to be effective it needed to find ways to balance information that was timely, accurate and informative, but also interesting and engaging.

The WHO developed an array of means of inciting interest in the agency and the health situation around the world: exhibitions, publications and films. But photographs were especially useful and helped to construct a pervasive vision about what it meant to be healthy or suffer disease. The WHO disseminated photographic work through its own public-oriented magazine, the WHO Newsletter. Photos took pride of place in Newsletter, on the front cover and features inside. Through it the WHO sought to reach out to as many people as possible and encourage them to see the world ‘through the eyes of the WHO’.

Initially photographs were contributed by WHO staff working in the field, but these were deemed to lack professional quality. In May 1950 a visual media expert was assigned to arrange photographic missions on the WHO’s worldwide activities and the agency came to rely on well-regarded photographic agencies such as Magnum, and eminent photojournalists who were seen to provide better, hard-hitting and captivating imagery. That said, the appearance of individual photographs was the result of input from many individuals. Once each photo mission was authorized, photographers were supplied with background information on the countries and the topics in question. Sometimes we see very specific instructions and lists of preferred shots and topics provided to photographers. When the photographic material was returned to the WHO, PIO officials selected the shots for publication. This process wasn’t simply about gathering evidence or being an eyewitness, but about constructing a particular narratives.

We can conclude that the WHO's efforts to construct and disseminate visual messages were successful. Newsletter had a good reach, appearing the in tens of thousands and in multiple languages. Articles and photographs printed in Newsletter were made freely available for reproduction enabling the WHO to feature in many external publications. A report on public information projects undertaken between November 1953 and June 1954 recorded that several popular magazines had devoted long stories to the WHO. Regional offices worked to inspire international coverage by arranging for material to be placed in local picture magazines. But judging the effect of public information work on the intended audience was harder. The records do not suggest that a comprehensive answer was ever obtained. It remained difficult to estimate the size of the audience reached by WHO information, and even harder to assess the extent to which public attitudes were changed.

Thus the WHO was able to put its work and vision in front of millions. But that was not the end of the story. In the 1970s the WHO began to look more closely at the effects of this imagery and, as Joao Nunes and I explore in our article 'Visualising Primary Health Care: World Health Organization Representations of Community Health Workers' , there were many challenges in picturing certain topics."

Further reading:

Alexander Medcalf, ‘Between Art and Information: Communicating World Health, 1948-1970’, Journal of Global History 13, 1 (2018), 94-120.

Alexander Medcalf and Joao Nunes, 'Visualising primary health care: World Health Organization representations of community health workers, 1970-1989’, Medical History 62, 4 (2018), 401-24.

Tuesday, 19 March 2019

Reflections on a year at CGHH

Today we are delighted to feature another guest post from Namrata Ravichandra Ganneri (a Commonwealth-Rutherford Fellow based at the Centre for Global Health Histories (CGHH) and the Department of History for 23 months (22 March 2018 to 21 February 2020)), reflecting on her first year spent researching at CGHH!

Having spent nearly a year in the UK as a Commonwealth-Rutherford Fellow on the project ‘India’s Smallpox Eradication as a Global Roadmap’ at CGHH, a trip home was to be a welcome break from all duties. Or so I hoped! –a chance visit to my employers brought a novel assignment- a talk on my fellowship experience for peers and students. The talk comprised my thoughts on the transformatory impact of the fellowship, which commenced in late March 2018 on my life and career. Now that I am back from annual leave and ease myself into a routine, I believe that sharing these thoughts may also profit both the followers of this blog and the wider online communities accessing this post. What follows is a brief account of the presentation, and my reflections since.

My annual leave to India early February 2019 was to revisit the smells and sounds of my home country, meet family and friends, plus afforded a much -needed break from the cold British winter! Indeed, most of my time was spent catching up with family, yet I yearned to see my workplace having spent nearly one third of my life teaching at S.N.D.T. College in Mumbai. A visit to the college brought joyful reunions with colleagues and students, although meeting the new head of the institution also brought in a new assignment - a short talk on my fellowship experience so far!

There were mixed feelings as I ascended the podium to deliver a talk on ‘My fellowship in the UK: some thoughts and learnings’ on 25 February 2019. It was the same place where I had greeted and introduced several visiting scholars and guests to our institution in the past and was then trying to distil a year of somewhat heady experience of my life in the UK. Living alone in a foreign country was an important first though 2018 had been eventful in myriad ways.

I spoke to my young friends in college about the beautiful student- friendly, as well as touristy, city of York, as well as my experience of living through ‘Brexit Britain’. There was considerable interest in the Commonwealth scholarship scheme as I shared information about the masters’ and doctoral scholarships awarded by the Commonwealth Scholarship Commission, and my own insights as a recipient of the postdoctoral Commonwealth- Rutherford Fellowship (which isfunded by the UK Department for Business, Energy and Industrial Strategy (BEIS) through the Rutherford Fund).

I was fortunate enough to avail this research only fellowship, awarded for a maximum of twenty- three months, for the whole period , due to grant of study leave by my Indian employer. The Commonwealth fellowship enables my training at CGHH, a globally renowned centre on medical history which works closely with the World Health Organization (WHO) being a long standing WHO Collaborating Centre at the Department of History, University of York. Extraordinary support from my host institution and supervisor eased transitioning into the relatively new sub-discipline of history of medicine and health policy. Moreover, the Centre has attracted research scholars from several nationalities with whom I have developed both camaraderie and collegiality despite only a relatively short period of association. The excellent opportunities to interact and liaise with academics, policy makers and health advocates from all corners of the globe, from China to New Zealand to Finland as they passed through the Centre helped internationalise my own research. I spoke about the exhilaration of devoting all my time to reading and writing (away from teaching!) and realizing a long-standing dream of visiting the British Library in London. As I saw it, the chance to develop expertise in a different research area, working with newer material and archives was adding to my métier. Additionally enriching were the enormous opportunities to participate in University level events. An important high was the invitation to deliberate on gender and social justice as a member of the Equality and Diversity Committee (EDC) newly constituted by the department of History in 2018.

I was especially pleased recounting the experience of representing my country as well as my host institution at the World Health Organization (WHO) ‘Global Conference on Primary Health Care’ in Astana, Kazakhstan in October 2018, commemorating 40 years of the Alma-Ata Declaration on Primary Health Care. The trip created special memories especially as I met greats like Prof. Sharmanov, the architect of the Alma-Ata Declaration and observed closely the crafting of a global health agenda. Additionally, the visit to Astana offered me the opportunity to co-organise and present my ongoing research on India’s smallpox eradication programme at a prestigious WHO Global Health Histories Seminar on 'Immunization for Universal Health Coverage' at Nazarbayev University and address a wide audience including delegates present in the young city to attend the historic conference.

Being based in CGHH has meant representing the Centre in key meetings and at Global Health Histories seminars in various parts of the world, participating in wide-ranging discussions on global health across geographical regions as well as disciplines-public health, medical practice, medical anthropology, visual anthropology, public policy etc and opportunities to both innovate and invigorate my own research skills. As questions poured in both from peers and students about life in the UK and the higher education and research environment abroad, I marvelled at my own felicity- commenting and reflecting- and finally, looking forward to another, nearly a year, in the UK.

Friday, 4 January 2019

Procession and Pageantry in a disease eradication programme: A note on India’s ‘Smallpox Eradication Week’

Today we are delighted to feature a guest post from Namrata Ravichandra Ganneri (a Commonwealth-Rutherford Fellow based at the Centre for Global Health Histories (CGHH) and the Department of History for 23 months (22 March 2018 to 21 February 2020)). Her project, entitled ‘India’s Smallpox Eradication Programme as a Global Roadmap’, closely examines pilot programmes conducted in the Indian state of Goa to offer a fuller picture of the global history and narrative of smallpox eradication.

In the last quarter of 1962, India launched an ambitious National Smallpox Eradication Programme, following an epidemic cycle in 1958. At this stage, the primary strategy adopted was that of mass vaccination and the programme aimed to vaccinate the entire population of the country by March 1966.

There were obvious technical and administrative hurdles in vaccinating each and every individual in a vast and populous country like India, which contributed nearly half the number of smallpox cases in the world at that time. Another stumbling block was the general resistance and apathy towards vaccination among the populace. The success of this gigantic public health programme hinged on active and voluntary participation by the people. And, this was certainly difficult to count on in the mid-1960s.

Hence a ‘Smallpox Eradication Week’, a flurry of events to popularise the government campaign, was launched in the last week of September every year, though not much is known about the event in its early years. A ‘Smallpox Day’ was celebrated on 25 September 1962 just before the launch of the programme and since then there was a week of intensive publicity and canvassing for popularising the government programme beginning on the 25th September in the years 1963 and 1964.

Meanwhile, an evaluation conducted in the interim indicated that only 74 percent of the population was vaccinated, while a quarter of the population remained unvaccinated and therefore susceptible to the scourge. Health education was an important component of the eradication programme; its importance was never clearer to the authorities and the public health workers than in the face of falling targets.

Seemingly, the 1965 ‘Smallpox Eradication Week’ was specially mandated to shore up the programme’s vaccination targets, and these ‘celebrations’ are better known since they were reported in contemporary media. In fact, a special manual outlined all activities envisaged as part of the programme. All the federal states were mandated to participate and report their activities in the official mouth-piece of the programme The Smallpox Eradication News (English) and the Rashtriya Chechak Unmulan Samachar (Hindi).

A range of activities including lectures, debates, programmes on All India Radio (the public broadcaster) and cinema shows were organized throughout the country. However, interestingly, the dominant images that come to us today are those of public processions with men, women and even children carrying placards and raising slogans.


SCHOOLBOYS TAKE PART IN THE INDIAN VACCINATION CAMPAIGN (1963) 

Copyright: WHO/ T S Satyan 

The tradition of prabhat pheris (an early morning procession with religious ballads) used during the freedom struggle in India to broadcast anti-colonial sentiments was reinscribed with smallpox eradication messages. Street theatre/ plays on the theme were performed in some parts of India. Importantly, these events were accompanied by mass vaccination drives.

The enduring images of the ‘Smallpox Eradication Week’, of people marching in procession, carrying banners etc. or performing at events, were perhaps meant to convey that the general masses welcomed the programme despite the evidence of obvious resistance in the large numbers of unvaccinated people towards the close of the first phase of the programme.[1]

This archive of images, relatively little known and under analysed, gesture towards the politics of popular representations of state managed schemes and programmes. Even as the eradication programme was faltering in achieving its targeted outcomes, the visuals remain celebratory and euphoric.

Pictures have usually been used to produce a narrative that conforms to what we already know. However if used ‘on their own terms’, as Pinney (2004:8) suggests, they might be able to narrate to us a different story about the Indian programme.


[1] Another image with the caption ‘The anti smallpox procession wends its way through Delhi streets’ , 1963, Image Credit: WHO/TS Satyan, can be viewed at the WHO Photo Library, WHO_A_010880, https://extranet.who.int/photolibrary/

Monday, 13 August 2018

Difference and Disease

The first title in the Global Health Histories book series (published by Cambridge University Press) is out now - Suman Seth’s ‘Difference and Disease: Medicine, Race, and the Eighteenth-Century British Empire.’ Before the nineteenth century, travellers who left Britain for the Americas, West Africa, India and elsewhere encountered a medical conundrum: why did they fall ill when they arrived, and why – if they recovered - did they never become so ill again? Suman Seth (Cornell University) explores forms of eighteenth-century medical knowledge, showing how geographical location was essential to this knowledge. In this period, debates raged over whether diseases changed in different climes. Different diseases were deemed characteristic of different races and genders, and medical practitioners were thus deeply involved in contestations over race and the legitimacy of the abolitionist cause.

We asked the author for his insights into the preparation and planning of the book. This was his enlightening response:

“I came to this project via a rather circuitous route. I published my first book in 2010, on theoretical physics in late 19th and early 20th century Germany. Given longstanding interests in science, race, colonialism, and postcolonial theory, I’d originally envisioned working on a project on the physical sciences and colonialism in the German concession at Kiautschou Bay, China, from 1897-1914. Beginning research, however, I came across material having to do with debates in Germany concerning ‘Akklimatisation’ and race. Following material on acclimatization led me backwards to the history of ‘seasoning,’ the term used before acclimatization replaced it—in medical contexts—after the 1830s and 1840s. And an interest in seasoning and race led me to the material that became this book. Within a couple of years, in other words, I had gone from being a historian of physics in Germany in the twentieth century to someone who needed to understand the history of medicine in the British Empire, in the eighteenth century. Needless to say, making that transition required the help on an enormous number of people, who were incredibly generous with their time, patience, and wisdom.”

You can find out more about ‘Difference and Disease’ via the Global Health Histories series page on the Cambridge University Press website.

The Global Health Histories series aims to publish outstanding and innovative scholarship on the history of public health, medicine and science worldwide. By studying the many ways in which the impact of ideas of health and well-being on society were measured and described in different global, international, regional, national and local contexts, books in the series will reconceptualise the nature of empire, the nation state, extra-state actors and different forms of globalization.

You can read more about upcoming titles in the series via our series announcement on the Centre for Global Health Histories news page.

Monday, 9 July 2018

Seminar report: Vaccine Hesitancy – why do some people not vaccinate?

On the blog today we have another guest post from Dr Victoria Turner (CGHH Associate & Public Health Specialty Registrar, Associate Clinical Fellow, Department of Health Sciences, University of York) who reports on the discussions at Global Health Histories Seminar 107.

On Tuesday 3rd July I was in Copenhagen attending the 107th Global Health Histories seminar with Sanjoy Bhattacharya (Director of the WHO Collaborating Centre for Global Health Histories at the University of York), who was chairing the session. The seminar showcased two excellent speakers: Robb Butler, Programme Manager for Vaccine-preventable Diseases and Immunization at WHO Europe, and Heidi Larson, Director of The Vaccine Confidence Project (VCP) and Professor of Anthropology, Risk and Decision Science at London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.

To start, Robb Butler gave a very interesting overview of some of the factors affecting decision making, and how this applies to vaccination. He made the point that behaviour, as well as diseases, can be contagious (think of yawning!), and that in order to anchor the population into making positive decisions around vaccinations we need to move to a position where people are making well-informed decisions, rather than just following the crowd.

Robb discussed the ‘mental toolbox’ of tools we use to make decisions, including affect heuristics (i.e. being affected by emotions, a factor particularly used by anti-vax lobbyists) and negativity bias (i.e. people are more likely to make a decision based on the avoidance of negative side effects rather than gaining any positive benefits).

Vaccine hesitancy is affected by confidence, complacency and convenience. Examples were given of populations both of the general public and of healthcare professionals who had never experienced diseases such as measles, and therefore did not feel vaccination was necessary (‘complacency’). Other difficulties included the ease of getting the vaccine, with an example given of French healthcare that required multiple GP/pharmacy trips for a single vaccine (‘convenience’), and poorly-responsive technology (e.g. the failure to progress from fear-inducing needles).

Overall, Robb argued that vaccine hesitancy is complex, context-specific and varies across time, place and type of vaccine.

Following on from Robb’s discussion of how decisions around vaccination are made, Heidi addressed historical and cultural attitudes to vaccine hesitancy from across the globe. She started with the point that not only can we not prevent all vaccine hesitancy, but that we shouldn’t be trying to prevent all vaccine hesitancy; parents with children should quite rightly be asking questions about what is best for their children. She highlighted two key themes that most often lead to vaccine hesitancy: purity (i.e. ‘natural is better’) and liberty (i.e. ‘who are you to impose this on me?).

Heidi highlighted that discussions on vaccine hesitancy can be difficult, particularly when there is emotive polarisation of pro- and anti-vaccination groups (‘they’re stupid’ vs. ‘they’re lying to us’). She argued that we have to be better at how we discuss vaccines with the public – stock phrases like ‘its 100% safe’ and ‘vaccination is the most cost-effective intervention’ (not necessarily – depends on the vaccine/disease) can be unhelpful.

As a case study Heidi also referred to a particular incident involving HPV vaccination in Columbia, where full vaccine coverage in an area decreased from 88% to 5% after an ‘outbreak’ of anxiety symptoms in this area. This case also highlighted the fact that symptoms are not spread evenly throughout the vaccine-taking population; this leads to ‘clusters’ of vaccine hesitancy, linking back to Robb’s concept of behaviour as contagious.

The Q&A session also addressed some important issues. The first question raised the point that people’s first port of call when they have a medical (or other) question is usually Google, and responses are therefore particularly influenced by the top ‘hits’ (and by extension the companies that sponsor them). Robb acknowledged that challenging/working with ‘Dr Google’ was an area the medical profession had not spent enough time on, as well as emphasising the sizable impact a single individual could have on social media to counteract all the work done by health professionals.

Heidi also had advice for a medical student asking how healthcare professionals should discuss vaccination with their patients. Giving them the opportunity to ask questions and listening to their concerns is very important, particularly in maintaining the trust between patient and professional. However, making sure clinicians are confident in answering these questions (ideally with better training, e.g. at medical school) would also help.

The final take home message on improving our approach to vaccine hesitancy was that we all need to put down the guns, engage stakeholders and understand and address their perspectives if we want to move forward.

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Seminar Report – 'Tobacco Control: History and current global challenges'

On the blog today we have a guest post from Dr Victoria Turner (CGHH Associate & Public Health Specialty Registrar, Associate Clinical Fellow, Department of Health Sciences, University of York) who reports on the discussions at Global Health Histories Seminar 104.

Tobacco use remains one of the leading risk factors for mortality across the globe. It is therefore fitting that the 104th Global Health Histories seminar, held at the University of York, focused on this topic; in particular, shedding light on some of the less frequently addressed issues and their possible solutions.

Facing the Challenge: Tobacco Control in Sri Lanka 
The first speaker was Dr Lakshmi Somatunga of the Sri Lankan Ministry of Health, who shared her experience of using policy to improve tobacco control. She took us on a journey from the situation in 2000 where 25% percent of the Sri Lankan population were daily smokers (although less than 1% of females), and where vigorous promotion of smoking occurred in the media, to the present where Sri Lanka has a successful National Programme on tobacco control, effective national legislation (National Authority on Tobacco and Alcohol Act, 2007) and has taken an international lead on ratifying the Framework Convention for Tobacco Control. By 2015 smoking prevalence in Sri Lanka had decreased to 19.9% in men and negligible in women. The daily average number of cigarettes smoked by men had also decreased, from 9.1 in 2007 to 3.7 in 2015.

Key factors influencing the success of the Sri Lankan approach to tobacco control included:
  • Strong political commitment 
  • Very supportive media 
  • Multi-sector involvement, led by the health sector 
  • Strong promotion/prevention measures, such as early behavioural change in school children and the integration of tobacco control into health lifestyle messages 
  • Inclusion of grass roots societies at stakeholder meetings 
  • Visible and accessible state-run health services 
Dr Somatunga. Credit: University of York/ Alex Holland

I was particularly interested to hear about the integration of tobacco control into the school curriculum, with compulsory questions on tobacco control in general knowledge exam papers (although as Dr Somatunga later pointed out, there is sometimes a difference between what you know and what you choose to practice!)

Smokeless tobacco use in South Asia: health risks and control measures
Dr Somatunga’s presentation was followed by a talk by Kamran Siddiqi, Professor in Public Health at the University of York, who discussed the prevalence, risks and diversity of smokeless tobacco usage in South Asia.

We discovered that smokeless tobacco use is a sizeable, if underappreciated issue; of 1 billion smokers in the world, 25% are smokeless tobacco users. Despite this, very few countries regulate smokeless tobacco, and they are also usually subject to lower taxes and less stringent health warnings than cigarettes.

Professor Siddiqi. Credit: University of York/ Alex Holland

The variation between different smokeless tobacco products also makes this situation more complex. It was not only enlightening to hear about the different types of smokeless tobacco products, but also to appreciate that they all carried different risks. Prof. Siddiqi gave us a brief lesson in tobacco chemistry and demonstrated that products with different pHs carry different risks; the more alkaline, the higher the absorption into the body (including of carcinogens). There are also many different production methods at different scales, including those prepared by individual users, custom made products or manufactured products (either on a small local or a large industrial scale). This persistent diversity makes it very difficult to have a single policy against all forms of smokeless tobacco.

Prof. Siddiqi also emphasised the deep rooted cultural associations of smokeless tobacco use in South Asia, where it is used at weddings, religious celebrations, and other family gatherings. This makes tackling smokeless tobacco use more complex; a new NIHR Global Health Research Group called ASTRA (Addressing Smokeless Tobacco and building Research capacity in south Asia) has been set up to try and understand and overcome some of these issues, with University York staff (including Prof. Siddiqi) particularly involved.

Continuing the conversation
Following the presentations, Dr Nils Fitje of the WHO Regional office for Europe chaired a discussion with both speakers, who answered a variety of interesting and thoughtful questions from the audience.

Credit: University of York/ Alex Holland

Highlights included Dr Somatunga’s response to how smokeless tobacco was being challenged in Sri Lanka, which involved trying to build smokeless tobacco control into the current ‘fashionable’ ideal of keeping the environment clean, with children and young people once again cited as key agents for change.

Both speakers also made interesting points on the role of community leaders in behaviour change. Prof. Siddiqi discussed how faith leaders (Imams) in Bangladesh had requested training on advocating for smoke-free homes, and who were now using sermons as powerful way of delivering messages to particular communities. Similarly, Dr Somatunga discussed the success in Sri Lanka of getting senior Buddhist leaders to remove tobacco from betel offerings; a key part of religious ceremonies.

Both the presentations and the Q&A session highlighted the influence of culture on tobacco use, and the importance of challenging social norms in innovative ways in order to overcome the tobacco use (of many kinds) ingrained part of South Asian cultures.