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Tuesday, 3 March 2015

Balancing unreason: vaccine myths and metaphors

Balancing unreason: vaccine myths and metaphors


Is any medical procedure more misunderstood or charged with anxiety than vaccination? “We have more microorganisms in our guts”, observes Eula Biss, “than we have cells in our bodies—we are crawling with bacteria and we are full of chemicals”. Yet, to judge by the popularity of anti-vaccination forums, increasing numbers of people believe that introducing an attenuated virus into one's bloodstream to kick start a life-saving immune response is unnatural and dangerous.
Is this because viruses, like vampires, occupy a nether world between the living and the dead? Or do our fears have more to do with the act of vaccination itself—the “scarring” of flesh and the “violation” of what we imagine to be pristine bodily spaces? All of these ideas and more, suggests Biss in On Immunity: An Inoculation. As she shows in her elegant and ruminative take on vaccination, inoculation—from the Latin word for graft or implant—draws on a surprisingly diverse range of metaphors. These metaphors evoke different anxieties in different contexts, from fears of racial “contamination” and sexual “violence”, to anxieties about environmental “pollutants” and our absorption into the “herd”.
This is hardly surprising given the way that our bodies prime our metaphors and metaphors govern the way we think and act. What is surprising and demands more explanation, Biss argues, is the persistence of these fears in the face of overwhelming scientific evidence that vaccination is a boon to health and for the most part safe. From fears that three-in-one vaccines will “overtax” children's immune systems, making them more susceptible to asthma and allergies, to anxieties about the “neurotoxicity” of thimerosal, these anxieties are more prevalent today than ever. How else to explain the way in which Andrew Wakefield's now discredited theory about the link between measles-mumps-rubella (MMR) vaccination and autism was taken up with such enthusiasm by the chattering classes or the popularity of anti-vaccination sentiments in states like California, currently the site of a growing measles outbreak?
One of the strengths of Biss's thought-provoking book is that as a member of these soi-disant classes and a mother herself, she does not shirk these questions but confronts them head on. Indeed, her angst-ridden reflections on inoculation are borne out of her own, seemingly innocuous conversations with other Chicago mothers shortly after the birth of her son in the spring of 2009. That was when a new, potentially deadly strain of H1N1 influenza (swine flu) began spreading across the USA from Mexico, leading to urgent calls for Americans to immunise their children. But for every public health pronouncement assuring Biss the H1N1 influenza vaccine is safe, there is a mother on hand with an anecdote of how her child screamed all night after the jab. Worried about making the wrong choice, Biss finds herself caught in a shadow zone “in which all that is known about disease is weighted against all that is unknown about vaccines”.
The problem, Biss thinks, is that “people like us”, by which she means white, college-educated middle-class American women, do not think of public health as something that operates in and through their bodies. They instinctively recoil from the concept of “herd immunity”, imagining that vaccination is only a matter for the poor and the underprivileged, when exactly the reverse is true. Thankfully, Biss's father, a doctor who acts as the voice of authorial reason, is on hand to put his daughter, and the reader, straight. “‘Vaccination works’, my father explains, ‘by enlisting a majority in protection of a minority’. He means the minority of the population that is particularly vulnerable to a given disease.”
Indeed, while recognising that for some mothers the refusal to submit to vaccination is a form of protest against Big Pharma, Biss suggests it is a particularly retrogressive protest that ends up penalising those least able to protect themselves. “Unvaccinated children”, Biss writes, “are more likely to be white, to have an older married mother with a college education, and to live in a household with an income of $75 000 or more—like my child… Undervaccinated children…are more likely to be black, to have a younger unmarried mother, to have moved across state lines, to live in poverty.”
Biss's conclusion is that although it is only natural for mothers to want to shield their children from harm, absolute immunity is a myth. It does not matter how many times Thetis dips Achilles in the River Styx, the spot where she held his heel will always be vulnerable. Biss also gives a master class in parsing statistics. Yes, one in 3 million children who receive the MMR jab may develop encephalitis but the association is so miniscule as to be statistically worthless. By contrast, in the days before measles vaccination one in 1000 children who contracted measles developed encephalitis—and some ended up paralysed.
That is the true moral hazard invited by the anti-vaccination crowd. The problem is that the intuitive judgments “people like us” make about such dangers no longer bear much resemblance to the real risks.