Guest authors Kate Lewis (K-State student, Global Food Systems Leadership, pre-veterinary medicine and Animal Sciences and Industry), Peter Maier (K-State student, Master of Public Health program), and Justin Kastner (K-State faculty member, Department of Diagnostic Medicine/Pathobiology) wrote this article to highlight leadership principles in operation in a past infectious disease event—one that occurred over three and one-half centuries ago.
For readers of The Loop, it is axiomatic to say that leadership involves focusing on others and their needs, even if it requires subordinating or abandoning one’s self-interest. Whether aiming for a societal goal or an individual team’s success, good leadership involves “put[ting] others’ interest before your own.”[1] Leadership is not meant to be a self-promoting enterprise, but one that brings with it real, anticipated, expected costs borne by servant leaders—costs often measurable in concrete financial, political, relational, and personal terms. Indeed, servant leadership may include forgoing a lucrative career for the sake of working in the so-called “third sector” of the non-profit world; it may mean embracing and advocating for a politically unpopular principle or practice; as many seasoned leaders can attest and as admirable biographies narrate, service to others may feature profound personal loss—losing the esteem of friends, or even life itself.
These costs are both real (painful) and likely (probable), so leadership is, for sure, a risky enterprise.
Yet it turns out that such risks, despite their costs, are ultimately “worth it”—at least that’s what a number of leadership gurus and psychologists maintain. Ronald Heifetz and Marty Linsky, acknowledging the risk and uncertainty of leadership, insist that leadership “is worth the risk because the goals extend beyond material gain or personal advancement…leadership provides meaning [and] purpose.”[2] According to psychologist Oliver James, author of the provocative book Affluenza: How to be successful and stay sane, one of the keys to personal wholeness is giving as well as receiving from others in your community.[3] It is in this giving to others in one’s community that the value of leadership eclipses its price. It is on this basis that another scholar-practitioner argues that we should embrace leadership’s inherent risks: “By avoiding risk we really risk what’s most important in life—reaching toward growth, our potential, and a true contribution to a common good.”[4]
There it is—the common good. This phrase has been repeatedly invoked throughout the COVID-19 pandemic. Do your part for the common good by staying home, Contagion actors Matt Damon and Kate Winslet told us all in the first few weeks of the pandemic.[5] Since those opening days of the pandemic, countless social media-nested advertisements, television and Internet public service announcements, and public health policy initiatives have insisted that hygienic practices, vaccination, face coverings, and the like are all worth it because they are for the common good. It has been with the common good in mind that many have risked alienation from friends and family because they have chosen to get vaccinated, comply with mask mandates, or get precautionarily tested for COVID-19. Of course, such sacrificial efforts are small compared with the acts of leadership by scientists, health care workers, and local, state, federal, and international government officials doing their best to translate science into actionable policies that intend the common good.
Leadership doesn’t happen in a vacuum; in fact, it often takes place in response to threats to the common good (think: Churchill versus Hitler). In the context of our current pandemic, leaders have grappled with a virus, SARS-CoV-2, that has proven to be both exceptionally contagious and moderately lethal. The leadership costs of preventing this threat’s spread bring to mind other costs suffered by prevention-minded leaders in past eras where disease control was desired for the common good. When we consider such past disease events, sacrificial leadership’s deeper meaning—and ultimate value—emerges.
We invite you to see how leadership is worth the risks by considering one of the many episodes of the most ill-reputed of disease-causing organisms: Yersinia pestis, the bacterium responsible for causing bubonic and pneumonic plague. Owing to its historically significant pandemics and epidemics in Athens during 430-427 BC, at Constantinople in AD 542, across Europe during 1347-50, and in a series of outbreaks in several locales for a 300-year period until around 1670, Yersinia pestis remains one of the most feared and vile pathogens in existence.[6] Its zoonotic and vector-borne complexity also contributes to its frightful reputation; the pathogen is an essential, but not the only, player in a biological “unholy trinity” involving a host (the Rattus rattus rat) and a vector (the Xenopsylla cheopis flea).[7] Plague’s reputation as a fearsome disease worthy of such titles as “the Great Pestilence” (and later, “the Black Death”) comes from tales of painful, swollen lymph nodes (buboes) and, in the worst of epidemics, pneumonic symptoms that brought death within a week.
Amongst the leaders of yesteryears’ plague events and today’s pandemic, disease investigators stand out. Collecting pieces of a disease-puzzle requires collaboration between practitioners and thinkers in both human health and animal health, especially when the origins of the pandemic appear to be of animal descent (as they are with both plague and COVID-19). These investigators, called epidemiologists, are the ones who sort through the metaphorical rubble of a pandemic, bringing to light the details of a disease event the culprit for which the public’s naked eye cannot see. In past centuries, epidemiologists have taken real risks as they dared to explain illnesses and deaths. The father of modern epidemiology, Venice’s Gerolamo Fracastoro, wrote in 1546 De contagione et contagiosis morbis. In this publication, Fracastoro exercised leadership by describing three ways diseases spread: (1) direct contact, (2) indirect contact (e.g., through such vehicles as clothing), and (3) at a distance through such mechanisms as respiration.[8] Over a century after De contagione et contagiosis morbis, and not in Italy but in England, Fracastoro’s second means of disease spread appeared to be in operation—in 1665 in a small village called Eyam.
According to the dominant narrative (which some historians of science doubt, but which is now the basis for school and community plays and musicals, and the inspiration for such essays as the one we write!), the Eyam village tailor received a small shipment of woolen cloth (or other clothmaking materials) in late summer 1665. A one Englishman, George Viccars, who was working for the tailor, had the ill-fated duty of opening the box of materials and, because they were found damp, decided to dry them by a fire. Viccars would soon become ill, delirious, and pained by swellings in his neck and groin. He died on September 7, 1665. Two sceptics kindly summarize what may have happened: “This story is traditionally interpreted as follows: the cloth harboured fleas infected with Yersinia pestis from London where the plague was raging and that these bit George Viccars and infected him with bubonic plague.”[9]
While some may dispute how plague spread to Eyam, it is plausible. We know—from primary sources like the diary of the London-based Samuel Pepys—that plague was epidemic in London during 1665. Writing on June 15, 1665, Pepys lamented, “The town [London] grows very sickly, and people to be afeared of it—there dying this last week of the plague 112, from 43 the week before.”[10] Later that summer, on July 30, Pepys noted the plague’s dire consequences: “It was a sad noise to hear our Bell to toll and ring so often today, either for deaths or burials; I think five or six times.”[11] It seems logical that this disease—which we do assume to be plague—would spread to the north-central English village of Eyam. The Eyam outbreak eventually claimed the lives of 257 people over a 14-month period. At the time, the population of Eyam was believed to be around 350 people; if these numbers are to be assumed correct, the mortality rate was truly terrible. Some have challenged these population and mortality estimates due to a lack of data on transmission pathways throughout the village’s region (Derbyshire), missing details on who were likely affected the most (i.e., women, children, elderly, etc.), and what weather prevailed at the time. In light of this mystery, epidemiologists and medical historians have attempted to model this outbreak more accurately.
This is exactly what Lilith Whittles and Xavier Didelot aimed to do in their 2016 historical investigation of the plague outbreak at Eyam. Unlike today’s disease investigations, mid-17th century science did not boast epidemiological tracing programs involving laptop computers, contact-tracing through phone calls, or QR codes. Whittles and Didelot acknowledged this, and attempted to systematically integrate the available evidence—including the intuition and observations made by Eyam’s 17th-century witnesses, crude disease-tracing methods including mapping, hand-written data collection, and accounts of old-fashioned door-to-door conversations. Whittles and Didelot created a new epidemiological model and paired it with the historical stories to create a (hopefully) more accurate picture of this event.[12]
While the precise story of the disease event may remain contested, a key leadership-related detail of Eyam’s battle with plague is, for us, the conspicuous heart of the story. During the 1665-66 outbreak, the town’s leadership made the decision to implement a quarantine. While community members faced a nearly 50% chance of dying from plague, they collectively agreed to do whatever they could to prevent this lethal disease from reaching neighboring towns. They were committed, and sacrificially committed, to the common good of the surrounding region. Willing to contain the plague to their own community and not spread it to other towns, they viewed self-isolation as a risk worth taking for the common good.
As explained in an article commemorating the 300th anniversary of the outbreak at Eyam, the village’s efforts to self-quarantine indeed suggests a spirit of heroism and sacrifice.[13] The decisive actions of William Mompesson, the parish priest, and another clergyman, Thomas Stanley, ultimately prevented the larger, regional transmission of disease. Mompesson and Stanley courageously led the imposition of a “cordon sanitaire,” or barricade, restricting all travel and controlling trade. Though the true intentions of this self-isolation are likely more complex, their actions demonstrated the efficacy of quarantine and the leadership ethic of sacrificing for the common good. Since Eyam was not self-sufficient, the villagers relied on neighboring communities to sustain their survival; yet, even in this, they instituted systems for the regional comm good. They were careful to not spread the plague to outsiders from whom they purchased their goods; they thoughtfully practiced crude sanitation by erecting a stone “a little way out of the town for the purpose of exchange, where money was washed [disinfected] in a vinegar-filled hollow” before it was given as payment to the outsiders.[14]
Had the 17th-century village of Eyam insisted on selfishly continuing with life-as-usual, the health and safety of surrounding towns and villages would have been threatened. The leadership displayed by not only Mompesson and Stanley but all of the villagers demonstrates great altruism and sacrifice. As the rest of England was recovering from plague, Eyam itself was devastated. In this dark time, as entire family trees were lost and hope seemed elusive, it does appear that Eyam embraced every costly practice they could to check the virus’s spread.
Although the many retellings of Eyam’s quarantine may shroud the facts, the village’s leaders unmistakable gesture speaks volumes to us our own pandemic experience. Significantly, the people of Eyam demonstrated the kind of selflessness, courage, and initiative that we value in leadership. Eyam’s determination to isolate behind the “cordon sanitaire” illustrates a risk and, ultimately, cost that leaders accepted in order to promote the common good. Their public health decisionmaking also reminds us of the positive impact of intentional and altruistic leadership in a time of crisis; we see, again, that it is often the most deliberate and service-minded leaders who achieve the greatest results. Both in the 17th century and 21st century, and despite the likely costs to their own freedoms and reputation, leaders can and still do make sacrifices for the common good.
It is, after all, worth it.
Bibliography
Batho, G.R. “The Plague of Eyam: A Tercentenary Re-Evaluation.” Derbyshire Archaeological Journal 84 (1964): 81-91.
Castiglioni, Arturo. “Padua in the Renaissance–from Vesalius to Fracastoro.” CIBA Symposia 10, no. 3 (November-December 1948): 965-77.
De Pree, Max. Leading without Power: Finding Hope in Serving Community. San Francisco, California: Jossey-Bass, 1997.
Gage, Kenneth. “Plague: New Threats from an Old Disease.” Paper presented at the Department of Diagnostic Medicine/Pathobiology Seminar, Kansas State University, 20 November 2003.
Heifetz, Ronald A., and Marty Linsky. Leadership on the Line: Staying Alive through the Dangers of Leading. Boston, Massachusetts: Harvard Business School Press, 2002.
James, Oliver. Affluenza: How to Be Successful and Stay Sane. London: Vermilion, 2007.
Latham, Robert, ed. The Shorter Pepys. University of California Press: Berkeley, 1985.
Leholm, Arlen, and Ray Vlasin. Increasing the Odds for High-Performance Teams. East Lansing, Michigan: Michigan State University Press, 2006.
Scott, Susan, and Christopher J. Duncan. “Introduction.” Chap. 1 In Biology of Plagues: Evidence from Historical Populations, 1-20: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Reprint, 2004.
———. “Plague at Eyam in 1665-66: A Case Study.” Chap. 10 In Biology of Plagues: Evidence from Historical Populations, 261-83: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Reprint, 2004.
Whittles, Lilith K., and Xavier Didelot. “Epidemiological Analysis of the Eyam Plague Outbreak of 1665-1666.” Proceedings of the Royal Society B (biological sciences) 283, no. 20160618 (2016): 1-9.
Zemler, Emily. “‘Contagion’ Stars Matt Damon and Kate Winslet Offer Covid-19 Advice.” Rolling Stone (2020). Published electronically 30 March. https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-news/contagion-matt-damon-kate-winslet-covid-psa-974980/.
[1] Arlen Leholm and Ray Vlasin, Increasing the Odds for High-Performance Teams (East Lansing, Michigan: Michigan State University Press, 2006), p. 22.
[2] Ronald A. Heifetz and Marty Linsky, Leadership on the Line: Staying Alive through the Dangers of Leading (Boston, Massachusetts: Harvard Business School Press, 2002), p. 3.
[3] Oliver James, Affluenza: How to Be Successful and Stay Sane (London: Vermilion, 2007), p. xiii.
[4] Max De Pree, Leading without Power: Finding Hope in Serving Community (San Francisco, California: Jossey-Bass, 1997), pp. 137-38.
[5] Emily Zemler, “‘Contagion’ Stars Matt Damon and Kate Winslet Offer Covid-19 Advice,” Rolling Stone(2020), https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-news/contagion-matt-damon-kate-winslet-covid-psa-974980/.
[6] Susan Scott and Christopher J. Duncan, “Introduction,” in Biology of Plagues: Evidence from Historical Populations (Cambridge University Press, 2001; reprint, 2004)
[7] Kenneth Gage, “Plague: New Threats from an Old Disease” (paper presented at the Department of Diagnostic Medicine/Pathobiology Seminar, Kansas State University, 20 November 2003).
[8] Arturo Castiglioni, “Padua in the Renaissance–from Vesalius to Fracastoro,” CIBA Symposia 10, no. 3 (1948), p. 977.
[9] Scott and Duncan, “Plague at Eyam in 1665-66: A Case Study,” p. 262.
[10] Robert Latham, ed. The Shorter Pepys (University of California Press: Berkeley, 1985)., p. 497.
[11] Ibid., p. 509.
[12] Lilith K. Whittles and Xavier Didelot, “Epidemiological Analysis of the Eyam Plague Outbreak of 1665-1666,” Proceedings of the Royal Society B (biological sciences) 283, no. 20160618 (2016)
[13] G.R. Batho, “The Plague of Eyam: A Tercentenary Re-Evaluation,” Derbyshire Archaeological Journal 84(1964)
[14] Ibid., p. 86.
