‘The Contagion Myth’ – New Book Exposing COVID-19 Fallacies

As a preface to the bookThe Contagion Myth‘ authored by Thomas S. Cowan, MD, and Sally Fallon Morell, Sally Fallon Morell provides an excellent introduction to the problems the medical community is grappling with over so-called infectious diseases such as COVID-19.

Below is Sally’s preface to her book to help inform readers as to this enigmatic topic.

The official explanation for today’s COVID-19 pandemic is a “dangerous, infectious virus.” This is the rationale for isolating a large portion of the world’s population in their homes so as to curb its spread. From face masks to social distancing, from antivirals to vaccines, these measures are predicated on the assumption that tiny viruses can cause serious illness and that such illness is transmissible person-to-person.

It was Louis Pasteur who convinced a skeptical medical community that contagious germs cause disease; his “germ theory” now serves as the official explanation for most illness. However, in his private diaries he states unequivocally that in his entire career he was not once able to transfer disease with a pure culture of bacteria (he obviously wasn’t able to purify viruses at that time). He admitted that the whole effort to prove contagion was a failure, leading to his famous death bed confession that “the germ is nothing, the terrain is everything.”

Was Pasteur wrong and his rival, Antoine Bechamp right? Bechamp argued a strong immune system (the terrain) will protect us from disease. This fascinating new book explores how understanding the current pandemic may be the key to unraveling this medical mystery.

‘THE CONTAGION MYTH’

PREFACE

by Sally Fallon Morell

Since the dawn of the human race, medicine men and physicians have wondered about the cause of disease, especially what we call “contagions.” Numerous people become ill with similar symptoms, all at the same time. Does humankind suffer these outbreaks at the hands of an angry god or evil spirit? A disturbance in the atmosphere? A miasma? Do we catch the illness from others or from some outside influence?

With the invention of the microscope in 1670 and the discovery of bacteria, doctors had a new candidate to blame: tiny one-celled organisms that humans could pass from one to another through contact and exhalation. But the germ theory of disease did not take hold until two hundred years later with celebrity scientist Louis Pasteur and soon became the explanation for most illness.

Recognition of nutritional deficiencies as a cause of diseases like scurvy, pellagra, and beriberi took decades because the germ theory became the explanation for everything that ails the human being. As Robert R. Williams, one of the discoverers of thiamine (vitamin B1) lamented, “all young physicians were so imbued with the idea of infection as the cause of disease that it presently came to be accepted as almost axiomatic that disease could have no other cause [other than microbes]. The preoccupation of physicians with infection as a cause of disease was doubtless responsible for many digressions from attention to food as the causal factor of beriberi.”1

During the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918, the deadliest example of a contagion in recent history, doctors struggled to explain the worldwide reach of the illness. It sickened an estimated five hundred million people— about one-third of the planet’s population—and killed between twenty to fifty million people. It seemed to appear spontaneously in different parts of the world, striking the young and healthy, including many American servicemen. Some communities shut down schools, businesses, and theaters; people were ordered to wear masks and refrain from shaking hands, to stop the contagion.

But was it contagious? Health officials in those days believed that the cause of the Spanish flu was a microorganism called Pfeiffer’s bacillus, and they were interested in the question of how the organism could spread so quickly. To answer that question, doctors from the US Public Health Service tried to infect one hundred healthy volunteers between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five by collecting mucous secretions from the noses, throats, and upper respiratory tracts of those who were sick.2

They transferred these secretions to the noses, mouths, and lungs of the volunteers, but not one of them succumbed; blood of sick donors was injected into the blood of the volunteers, but they remained stubbornly healthy; finally they instructed those afflicted to breathe and cough over the healthy volunteers, but the results were the same: the Spanish flu was not contagious, and physicians could attach no blame to the accused bacterium.

Pasteur believed that the healthy human body was sterile and became sick only when invaded by bacteria—a view that dominated the practice of medicine for over a century. In recent years we have witnessed a complete reversal of the reigning medical paradigm—that bacteria attack us and make us sick.

We have learned that the digestive tract of a healthy person contains up to six pounds of bacteria, which play many beneficial roles— they protect us against toxins, support the immune system, help digest our food, create vitamins, and even produce “feel good” chemicals. Bacteria that coat the skin and line the vaginal tract play equally protective roles. These discoveries call into question many current medical practices—from antibiotics to hand washing. Indeed, researchers have become increasingly frustrated in their attempts to prove that bacteria make us sick, except as coactors in extremely unnatural conditions.

Enter viruses: Louis Pasteur did not find a bacterium that could cause rabies and speculated about a pathogen too small for detection by microscopes. The first images of these tiny particles—about one-thousandth the size of a cell—were obtained upon the invention of the electron microscope in 1931.

These viruses—from the Latin virus for “toxin”—were immediately assumed to be dangerous “infectious agents.” A virus is not a living organism that can reproduce on its own, but a collection of proteins and snippets of DNA or RNA enclosed in a membrane. Since they are seen in and around living cells, researchers assumed that viruses replicate only inside the living cells of an organism.

The belief is that these ubiquitous viruses “can infect all types of life forms, from animals and plants to microorganisms, including bacteria and archaea.”3

Difficult to separate and purify, viruses are a convenient scapegoat for diseases that don’t fit the bacterial model. Colds, flu, and pneumonia, once considered exclusively bacterial diseases, are now often blamed on a virus. Is it possible that scientists will one day discover that these particles, like the once-maligned bacteria, play a beneficial role? Indeed, scientists have already done just that, but old ideas, especially ideas that promise profits from drugs and vaccines—the “one bug, one drug” mentality—die hard.

Today, the premise that coronavirus is contagious and can cause disease has provided the justification for putting entire nations on lockdown, destroying the global economy and throwing hundreds of thousands out of work. But is it contagious? Can one person give coronavirus to others and make them sick? Or is something else, some outside influence, causing illness in the vulnerable?

These questions are bound to make public health officials uncomfortable—even angry—because the whole thrust of modern medicine derives from the premise that microorganisms—transmittable microorganisms—cause disease. From antibiotics to vaccines, from face masks to social distancing, most people submit willingly to such measures in order to protect themselves and others. To question the underlying principle of contagion is to question the foundation of medical care.

I am delighted to join my colleague Tom Cowan in creating this exposé of the modern medical myth—that microorganisms cause disease and that these diseases can be spread from one person to another through coughs, sneezes, kisses, and hugs. Like Tom, I am no stranger to controversial views. In my book Nourishing Traditions, first published in 1996, I proposed the heretical idea that cholesterol and saturated animal fats are not villains, but essential components of the diet, necessary for normal growth, mental and physical well-being, and the prevention of disease.

In Nourishing Traditions and in other writings, I presented the radical notion that pasteurization—collateral damage of the germ theory—destroys the goodness in milk and that raw whole milk is both safe and therapeutic, especially important for growing children. It is the most obvious substitute for breast milk when mothers are having trouble nursing their babies, a proposition that makes health officials squirm.

In subsequent publications I have argued the dissenting view that it is a nutrient-dense diet and not the administration of vaccines that best protects our children from illness. Over the years these views have found increasing support with both laypeople and health professionals.

Error has consequences. The result of the notion that our diets should be devoid of animal fats, that children should grow up on processed skim milk, and that it’s fine to vaccinate them dozens of times before the age of five has resulted in immense suffering in our children, an epidemic of chronic illness in adults, and a serious decline in the quality of our food supply.

There are economic consequences as well, including the devastation of rural life as small farms, especially dairy farms prohibited from selling their milk directly to customers, give in against the price pressures of “Big Ag” (Big Agriculture/corporate farming), and parents of children with chronic illness (estimated to be as high as one child in six4) struggle with the costs of caring for them.

What are the possible consequences of the premise that microorganisms, especially viruses, cause disease? The “coronavirus pandemic” gives us many clues: forced vaccinations, microchipping, prescribed social distancing, lockdown, mandatory masks, and negation of our right to assemble and practice our religion whenever an illness appears that can be media hyped into a public health emergency.

Until we base our public policies on the truth, the situation will only get worse. The truth is that contagion is a myth; we need to look elsewhere for the causes of disease. Only when we do so will we create a world of freedom, prosperity, and good health.

—Sally Fallon Morell  July 2020

The Contagion Myth Why Viruses, Including Coronavirus, are Not the Cause of Disease, Thomas S Cowan MD & Sally Fallon Morell. E-book version now available to buy on kobo.com


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Comments (3)

  • Avatar

    Ed D.

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    There are infectious diseases and organic diseases. Viral contagions are real. Remember parents having their children going to chicken pox parties? Many times when a cause of a disease was unknown, it turned out that the culprit was a parasite. Doctors aren’t trained in parasitology.

    Reply

  • Avatar

    Jerry Krause

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    Hi Ed D.,

    Is an example of a parasite a certain ‘type’ of mosquito which is thought to cause malaria? If it is, it would seem there is good evidence to support parasitology. I believe I remember having read that female mosquitoes need mammal blood to ‘lay’ fertile eggs. Or something like that. And that.

    Now, I know that malaria was almost eliminated as a ‘disease’ by the use of DDT to kill mosquitoes. Which was banned and the mosquitoes and malaria made a strong come back. Quite ‘strong’ evidence of the relationship between mosquitoes and malaria.

    Have a good day, Jerry

    Have a good day,.

    Reply

    • Avatar

      Ed D.

      |

      Hi Jerry,

      The mosquito is a vector for the parasite, Plasmodiium, a protozoan. Damn that Rachel Carson.

      Reply

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