Quotes About 1918

Based on studies of what U.S. cities did in 1918, modelers have concluded that "layering" several interventions—most of them different kinds of "social distancing"—would at least stretch out the length of an influenza outbreak in a local community

Based on studies of what U.S. cities did in 1918, modelers have concluded that "layering" several interventions—most of them different kinds of "social distancing"—would at least stretch out the length of an influenza outbreak in a local community, easing the strain on the health care system.

NATURE CHOSE to rage in 1918, and it chose the form of the influenza virus in which to do

Today's world population is 6.3 billion. To give a sense of the impact in today's world of the 1918 pandemic, one has to adjust for population. If one uses the lowest estimate of deaths—the 21 million figure—that means a comparable figure today would be 73 million dead. The higher estimates translate into between 175 and 350 million dead.

In 1918 the lies of officials and of the press never allowed the terror to condense into the concrete. The public could trust nothing and so they knew nothing.

Nature chose to rage in 1918, and it chose the form of the influenza virus in which to do it. This meant that nature first crept upon the world in familiar, almost comic, form. It came in masquerade. Then it pulled down its mask and showed its fleshleass bone.

Capps's article appeared in the August 10, 1918, issue of JAMA.

For if there is a single dominant lesson from 1918, it's that governments need to tell the truth in a crisis. Risk communication implies managing the truth. You don't manage the truth. You tell the truth.

By 1918 humankind was fully modern, and fully scientific, but too busy fighting itself to aggress against nature. Nature, however, chooses its own moments. It chose this moment to aggress against man, and it did not do so prodding languidly. For the first time, modern humanity, a humanity practicing the modern scientific method, would confront nature in its fullest rage.

risk communication." I don't much care for the term. For if there is a single dominant lesson from 1918, it's that governments need to tell the truth in a crisis. Risk communication implies managing the truth. You don't manage the truth. You tell the truth.

In 1918 the lies of officials and of the press never allowed the terror to condense into the concrete. The public could trust nothing and so they knew nothing. Society is, ultimately, based on trust; as trust broke down, people became alienated not only from those in authority, but from each other.

Yet the story of the 1918 influenza virus is not simply one of havoc, death, and desolation, of a society fighting a war against nature superimposed on a war against another human society. It is also a story of science, of discovery, of how one thinks, and of how one changes the way one thinks, of how amidst near-utter chaos a few men sought the coolness of contemplation, the utter calm that precedes not philosophizing but grim, determined action.

My father, who had previously been a civil engineer, died in the great influenza epidemic of 1918.

In 1918, the virus didn't learn how to kill humans crowded in filthy chicken sheds. Instead, it may have gotten that education in the trenches of World War I. In 1918, the soldiers may have been the chickens.