70 THENEWYORKER,AUGUST 5 &12, 2019
Shadow of Death”; a German mission
ary visiting the southern United States
wrote that it was “in the spring a para
dise, in the summer a hell, and in the
autumn a hospital”; a Mayan survi
vor of postColumbus epidemics re
membered, “Great was the stench of
death....All of us were thus. We were
born to die!” And yet human beings lived
with, and died from, mosquito borne
diseases for thousands of years without
understanding how they were reaching
us. Not until the end of the nineteenth
century was it scientifically established
that mosquitoes transmitted malaria.
Before then, the miasma theory, hold
ing that fevers travelled independently,
through fetid environments, held sway,
reflected in the very word “malaria”: we
thought we were the victims of “bad air.”
That these tiny biting insects might be
affecting our lives so profoundly was a
leap beyond imagining.
Winegard is particularly interested in
wars and conquests, and argues that, for
much of military history, deaths caused
by mosquitoes far outnumbered, and
were more decisive than, deaths in bat
tle. Malaria has many strains, of varying
deadliness, but survival rates are lowest
for people encountering new varieties to
which they have not been “seasoned”—
to which they have gained no immunity.
As a result, endemic malaria has often
acted not only as a local curse but also
as a strange sort of protector. Fifteen
centuries before the Scottish tried to col
onize Panama, the Romans tried to col
onize them, and were thwarted by a strain
of malaria local to Scotland which is es
timated to have killed half of the eighty
thousand Roman soldiers sent their way.
Endemic strains decimated Hannibal’s
forces as they made their way through
Italy, turned the armies of Genghis Khan
away from southern Europe, prevented
European crusaders from conquering the
Holy Land (malaria killed more than a
third of them), and sided with North
American colonists and Latin Ameri
can revolutionaries in their rebellions
against armies brought in from a distant,
ruling continent.
Military strategists, from Saladin to
the Nazis, used mosquitoes as direct
weapons of war. At Walcheren, Napo
leon breached dikes to create a brackish
flood—the ensuing malaria epidemic
killed four thousand English soldiers—
and declared, “We must oppose the En
glish with nothing but fever, which will
soon devour them all.” Often, of course,
malaria exacted a toll on both sides. It
pushed English Protestants into Cath
olic Ireland, setting the stage for the Trou
bles centuries later. But Oliver Crom
well, the Englishman who conquered
Ireland, died of malaria, in 1658, rather
than take quinine, the only known treat
ment, because he associated it with its
Catholic discoverers, making him a vic
tim of both parasitosis and sectarianism.T
he most dramatic conquest by mos
quitoes came when old diseases en
countered a new continent. When Co
lumbus arrived in the New World, the
mosquitoes there were pesky but car
ried no diseases. (Winegard chalks this
up to different farming practices here:
far less cultivation and disruption of
natural ecosystems, and less direct con
tact with animals through husbandry.
Syphilis was perhaps the only disease
to ride the Columbian Exchange east
ward.) But the blood of the new arriv
als, and the mosquitoes that crossed
with their ships, changed everything.
Just twentytwo years after Columbus
stepped onto Hispaniola, a census re
vealed that the local Taino population
had dropped from between five and
eight million people to just twentysix
thousand. Along with smallpox and in
fluenza, mosquitoborne diseases led,
by Winegard’s estimate, to the deaths
of ninety five million indigenous in
habitants of the Americas, from a
precontact population of about a hun
dred million.
To the colonizers, who spread more
slowly than the diseases they brought,
these were largely invisible deaths, which
helped create the pernicious myth of an
empty continent and a Manifest Des
tiny to fill it. A rare account from a ma
rooned Spanish sailor who made his way
from Florida to Mexico City in 1536 de
scribed seeing native people “so bitten
by mosquitoes that you would think they
had the disease of Saint Lazarus the
Leper....It made us extremely sad to
see how fertile the land was, and very
beautiful, and very full of springs and
rivers, and to see every place deserted
and burned villages, and the people so
thin and ill.” By the seventeenth cen
tury, the losses were so great that a Frenchexplorer considered them a justification
for racism: “It appears visibly that God
wishes that they yield their place to new
peoples.” As the recent arrivals cleared
land for their own purposes, they also
created fresh habitats for mosquitoes,
allowing their populations to skyrocket.
The same deaths then drove the de
velopment of the transatlantic slave trade
(and the arrival, with the first African
slaves, of the particularly virulent ma
laria parasite Plasmodium falciparum,
which also decimated the newly arriv
ing Europeans). The grim history is
clearly told in the prices paid for slaves
in the seventeenth and eighteenth cen
turies: an indigenous slave, likely to die
of imported disease, cost less than an
also vulnerable European indentured ser
vant, who cost less than a slave imported
directly from Africa. Most expensive of
all were Africans who had spent enough
time in the Americas to prove their re
sistance to its mixture of diseases.
Similar calculations could be made
about slave owners. In the Caribbean,
an eighteenthcentury French mission
ary observed that the death toll of Eu
ropean colonizers corresponded to the
length of time that a colonizing force
had had to grow accustomed to “the new
air,” which is to say, yellow fever and un
familiar strains of malaria: “Of ten men
that go to the islands” from a particular
nation, “four English die, three French,
three Dutch, three Danes, and one Span
iard.” Today’s Caribbean nations reflect
these mortality rates: those colonized by
the English, the Dutch, and the French
tend to have populations that are of ma
jority African descent; only the former
Spanish colonies have significant pop
ulations descended from Europeans.
In total, Winegard estimates that mos
quitoes have killed more people than
any other single cause—fiftytwo bil
lion of us, nearly half of all humans who
have ever lived. He calls them “our apex
predator,” “the destroyer of worlds,” and
“the ultimate agent of historical change.”T
here’s a long tradition of history
books that profess to explain the
world through singular factors: salt or
cod or the color blue. “The Mosquito”
suffers from the necessary myopia of the
genre (in addition to some florid writ
ing, repetition, and digressions through
blockbuster movies and the Western Civ