Spread of disease leads to war

The Strategy Bridge After the Calamity: Unexpected Effects of Epidemics on War After the Calamity: Unexpected Effects of Epidemics on War Strategy Bridge July 30, 2020 Lazar Berman and Jennifer Tischler The COVID-19 pandemic is a novel event. It shut the world down as leading economies lay dormant and citizens stayed home for weeks on end. But pandemics have been shaping history for millennia. Ancient populations also quarantined, had their lives disrupted, and raged against authorities as deadly diseases ravaged their communities. As the world emerges from the pandemic, states will return to commerce, diplomacy, and war. Pre-existing rivalries will not disappear. However, many countries and non-state actors will emerge fundamentally changed, as will the dynamics between them. As military and political leaders try to make sense of how the coronavirus has altered relations with hostile actors, they can draw important insights from past epidemics and their effects on persistent conflicts throughout history. This article examines past epidemics, from the Peloponnesian War in 430 BCE through the modern era, to extract lessons on incentives for aggression, power balancing, alliances, and internal legitimacy. By studying the past, contemporary decision-makers will be better equipped to anticipate challenges and avoid recurring dangers in the wake of pandemics. LESSONS FROM PAST EPIDEMICS Disease weakens states and their ability to project military power. However, epidemics have also spurred stricken societies to military action, making them more aggressive in the short term. In 430 BCE, Athens was in year two of the Second Peloponnesian War against Sparta and its allies. Athenian leader Pericles gathered the population behind the Long Walls while the Spartans ravaged the countryside. A ghastly plague reached the port of Athens and then swept through the crowded city. At the height of the outbreak, Pericles sent a large expeditionary force—four thousand hoplites and three hundred cavalry––to raid the Peloponnesian coast. Why would he order a major amphibious operation while his city disintegrated from within and Spartans destroyed their fields? Pericles believed an offensive would likely lift Athenian spirits and, perhaps more importantly, protect a major part of its combat power by removing it from the diseased city.[1] View fullsize “Plague in an Ancient City” by Michiel Sweerts (Wikimedia) “Plague in an Ancient City” by Michiel Sweerts (Wikimedia) The Iroquois Confederacy—five tribes in modern New York State—traditionally fought what scholars call mourning wars. After losses in battle, Iroquois raiding parties would set out in search of captives. While some captives were ritually tortured, many were adopted into the tribe to replace the fallen warriors: "A father who has lost his son adopts a young prisoner in his place. An orphan takes a father or mother; a widow a husband.“[2] On a societal level, mourning wars served to maintain population numbers; on a familial level, they assured the physical and spiritual continuity of clans; and they helped individuals deal emotionally with loss.[3] The Iroquois were hit by smallpox and influenza, which likely arrived before they had ever seen Europeans. By the early 1640s, roughly half the Iroquois were dead.[4] Smallpox struck the Mohawk in 1647, the Onondaga in 1656-7, the Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, and Seneca in 1661-1663 and again in 1668.[5] The Seneca were also ravaged by influenza in 1676.[6] The Iroquois found themselves in a violent cycle. Disease led to more mourning wars, which were now deadlier with the introduction of muskets. The need to acquire guns further increased the importance of beaver furs, which resulted in wars with French-allied tribes. Deaths in these conflicts led to more mourning wars.[7] On the northern Plains, smallpox moved up from Mexico in the 1780s and wiped out up to half the population of semi-sedentary tribes on the upper Missouri River, including the Arikara.[8] The nomadic western Sioux tribes were barely touched and came to dominate their stricken neighbors. But as the Arikara huddled into what were effectively refugee camps with survivors from other tribes, some chiefs led attacks solely for the purpose of proving themselves and gaining new followers.[9] View fullsize Native Americans and the Smallpox Epidemic (DeWerWeld) Native Americans and the Smallpox Epidemic (DeWerWeld) Despite the evidence of short-term aggressiveness, in the long run, epidemics sap the will of societies to fight. Though Pericles was initially adventurous in 430 BCE, Athenian pluck did not last the summer. Patience with Pericles wore thin. Athenians eager to make peace with Sparta sent emissaries to try to find a way out of the war. Unfortunately for Athens, the effort failed. The fighting spirit of Athens remained dampened for years. In 428, the island of Lesbos revolted. Athens, which in the past crushed similar rebellions, looked for reasons not to act.[10] Only when diplomatic efforts were exhausted did it besiege the Lesbian city Mytilene. In July 1914, in the opening act of the First World War, Austria-Hungary invaded Serbia. Despite initial Serbian successes, it lost Belgrade in November as civilians fled south. Typhus began to appear and quickly spread among these refugees.[11] The epidemic swept rapidly through the country via the movement of refugees and soldiers. Within six months, one in five Serbs had developed typhus, with the overall mortality rate at 20%. Serbia was quickly overwhelmed—its few hospitals were filled and 126 of the country’s 400 doctors died of the disease.[12] Typhus left Serbia unable to defend itself; killing 70,000 in the military alone.[13] Renewed Austro-Hungarian offensives from October 1915, combined with Bulgaria’s entrance into the war, put Serbia in a perilous position. Typhus and combat casualties reduced its army from 300,000 men at the start of the war to 75,000, and half of Serbia fell under Central Powers control.[14] View fullsize A Ukrainian family with Typhus in 1921 (Wikimedia) A Ukrainian family with Typhus in 1921 (Wikimedia) One might assume that if one side in a conflict—like Austria-Hungary or Sparta—is unaffected by an epidemic, it will strike its weakened opponent, but history shows this is not always the case. Though it did not afflict Sparta, the plague seems to have diminished its desire to fight Athens directly. The Peloponnesians left Attica early in 430 BCE when they heard of the disease and witnessed its horror.[15] In addition, the Spartans invaded Attica every year from 431-425 BCE, except for 429 and 426 BCE. Both of those years followed major outbreaks of the plague.[16] Sparta could have pressed its advantage while Athens tended to its sick and dying, but its leaders chose to avoid it entirely. Austria-Hungary behaved similarly. Despite declaring war on Serbia in July 1914, it did not invade again until late 1915. Having seen the devastating impact of typhus on Serbia, Austro-Hungarian commanders were loath to expose their armies to the disease. By waiting, Austria-Hungary lost an opportunity to tip the balance of power towards the Central Powers.[17] Stricken countries like Serbia are badly weakened in the long-term but are not helpless. History shows that these actors often seek new allies to help offset the dangerous erosion in national power. In the winter of 1621, Massasoit, a sachem from the Wampanoag confederacy in what is today southeastern Massachusetts, concluded a peace agreement with the Pilgrims in Plymouth. Massasoit did not negotiate with the settlers because he was afraid of them.[18] Sick and desperate, only about fifty had survived the winter. They did provide access to guns, which was probably less important than many assume. Massasoit was likely embarking on a complex and risky political endeavor in the wake of a cataclysmic plague. The epidemic ravaging the Wampanoag confederacy reached its peak in 1617, and lasted until 1619. It is not clear what it was, but the plague killed most of the native population from Boston Harbor to Plymouth. A contemporary chronicler wrote, “Thousands of men have lived there, which died in a great plague not long since.”[19] By 1621, Massasoit ruled a devastated confederation. Even worse for the Wampanoag, the plague did not reach the Narragansett, their bitter rivals to the west. Massasoit therefore viewed the Pilgrims in the context of the now perilous power imbalance with the Narragansett. The alliance could deter the Wampanoags’ rivals in two ways. The Narragansett did not necessarily know of the settlers’ pitiful state, and the pact could make Massasoit seem more powerful than he was. The Narragansetts also benefited greatly from their position as middlemen between English traders and other tribes. Massasoit may well have calculated the Narragansett would not want to risk their economic position by attacking allies of an English settlement.[20] View fullsize "The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth" by Jennie A. Brownscombe. How do plague and disease ask us to reexamine this narrative? (Wikimedia) "The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth" by Jennie A. Brownscombe. How do plague and disease ask us to reexamine this narrative? (Wikimedia) The semi-sedentary northern Plains tribes—the Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikara—were devastated by smallpox starting in the 1780s and looked to a drastic new alliance structure to balance against the Sioux. Initially the Arikara joined the Sioux in attacks on the Mandan and Hidatsa, but soon allied with the latter, moving into consolidated villages for mutual defense. Despite sometimes fatal tensions in these multilingual villages, the three tribes at times managed to put aside differences to fight the Sioux. In 1811, American traders encountered 300 warriors from the three tribes on their way to attack the Sioux.[21] Epidemics also have profound effects within afflicted societies themselves. In both well-organized states and tribal societies, one of the most pronounced impacts is the populace's rejection of traditional practices and sources of authority