Por Renan Filho · 2026-10-11
**Lead**
When officials in Siberia recently confirmed the re-emergence of a long-dormant bacterial infection linked to thawing permafrost, the word that dominated headlines was not 'outbreak' but 'plague'. The term, laden with centuries of historical trauma, immediately triggered a wave of public anxiety — a reaction that mirrors events nearly a century earlier in Los Angeles, where a pneumonic plague outbreak in the 1920s turned a bustling city into a fortress of fear. The power of the word 'plague' to strike panic remains undiminished, regardless of the actual pathogen involved, and its use continues to shape how societies respond to infectious disease.
**Context**
In the autumn of 1924, Los Angeles was a fast-growing metropolis, a symbol of opportunity and sunshine. Then came the pneumonic plague. The outbreak, believed to have arrived via a ship from Asia, quickly spread through the city's poorest neighbourhoods, particularly among the Mexican-American community. By early 1925, the city had recorded dozens of cases and a high fatality rate. The response was draconian: neighbourhoods were cordoned off, residents were quarantined in makeshift camps, and a widespread campaign to kill rats — the vector for the plague bacterium Yersinia pestis — was launched. The panic was palpable. Newspapers of the era used the word 'plague' with chilling regularity, feeding public terror and stoking discrimination against immigrant communities. The outbreak was eventually contained, but it left a legacy of fear and a cautionary tale about how a single word can amplify a crisis.
Today, the spectre of plague has resurfaced in a very different landscape: the Siberian tundra. Climate change is causing permafrost to thaw, releasing organisms that have been frozen for millennia. In recent years, outbreaks of anthrax — a disease often referred to as a 'plague' in historical literature — have struck reindeer herders in the Yamal Peninsula. The thawing permafrost has exposed carcasses of animals infected with Bacillus anthracis, leading to human infections and deaths. The reaction from local communities was one of profound fear, with many abandoning their homes. The term 'plague' was invoked repeatedly in Russian and international media, evoking images of the Black Death that ravaged Europe in the Middle Ages. While anthrax is not the same as bubonic plague, the psychological impact of the word is identical.
The fear associated with the word 'plague' is not arbitrary. Historically, plagues have been synonymous with mass mortality, societal breakdown, and divine punishment. The word itself derives from the Latin 'plaga', meaning a blow or wound, and has been used to describe the most terrifying of epidemics. Whether it is the Justinian Plague, the Black Death, or the third pandemic that began in the 19th century, each recurrence has reinforced the word's power to evoke dread. In public health communication, the term is often reserved for the most severe outbreaks, but its very mention can trigger irrational behaviour — from hoarding supplies to scapegoating marginalised groups, as seen in Los Angeles in 1924.
**Analysis**
The enduring power of the word 'plague' matters far beyond semantics. In the modern era, where pandemics can spread globally in days, the language used by authorities and the media can either calm or inflame public sentiment. When the term 'plague' is applied to an outbreak — even a relatively contained one — it can lead to disproportionate fear, overwhelming healthcare systems with the 'worried well' and prompting drastic measures that may not be epidemiologically justified. The 1920s Los Angeles quarantine, for instance, was later criticised for its severity and for unfairly targeting a specific ethnic group. In Siberia, the fear of plague has hindered cooperation with containment efforts, some herders choosing to flee rather than submit to medical checks.
Yet the word also serves as a powerful warning. The re-emergence of ancient pathogens from permafrost is a direct consequence of global warming, a threat that public health systems are ill-prepared to face. While the actual risk of a full-scale plague pandemic from thawing permafrost remains low, the word itself forces attention onto the issue. It mobilises resources and galvanises research into diseases that were thought to be consigned to history. The panic it triggers can be a double-edged sword: it can drive action, but it can also distort priorities and provoke fear that outpaces the actual danger.
For the United Kingdom, a nation with its own historical experience of plague — from the Black Death to the Great Plague of London — the psychological resonance of the word remains strong. British public health authorities have long been wary of using the term loosely, aware of its potential to provoke panic. The lessons from Los Angeles and Siberia are clear: the word 'plague' is not merely a descriptive label; it is a weapon that can shape the course of an outbreak. How we use it — and how we understand its historical weight — will determine whether it serves to protect or to harm.
**Fontes**
This article draws on historical records of the 1924–1925 Los Angeles pneumonic plague outbreak, as documented by public health archives and academic studies of the era. Modern references to permafrost-related anthrax outbreaks in Siberia are based on reports from regional public health authorities and scientific publications on climate change and emerging infectious diseases. General historical context on plague epidemiology is derived from World Health Organization records and peer-reviewed research on the sociolinguistics of disease naming. No specific numbers, quotations, or named individuals beyond the general historical account have been used, in accordance with editorial guidelines.