As much as one-quarter of deaths in Europe and the United States were once from tuberculosis.
People often romanticize what’s rare and look down on what’s common. This was not the case for tuberculosis. It was everywhere, but still carried a strange sense of allure.
By the middle of the 18th century, around 1% of London’s population was dying from tuberculosis (TB) every year. You can see this in the chart below, which shows modeled estimates of TB death rates in London.1
Let’s pause on that. Every year, 1 in 100 people died from TB. That means that if you lived in London, every five years, 1 in 20 people you knew might have died from it. That’s one person for every three or four households.2
If London were to experience that scale of infection and death today, tuberculosis would kill around 90,000 people every year.3 That’s almost double the number who currently die in London from all causes — cancer, heart disease, the flu, COVID-19, dementia, road injuries, homicides, and many others.4
To understand how bad things were back then, it’s also worth comparing these rates to the hardest-hit countries today. Very few people now die of tuberculosis in rich countries. But many low- and middle-income countries are still battling this terrible disease. Lesotho has the highest death rate in the world, at 165 deaths per 100,000 people. This is shown as the beige line at the bottom of the chart. In 1750s London, the death rate was more than five times higher.
Tuberculosis was not just a problem in the big cities. The disease was responsible for as many as one-quarter of all deaths in the United States and Europe during parts of the 18th and 19th centuries.5 For context, all cancers make up around one-quarter of deaths in the UK today.
Despite being so widespread, tuberculosis was, for a long time, a disease cloaked in mystery. Before Robert Koch identified the bacteria Mycobacterium tuberculosis as the cause of TB in 1882, there were many theories about where it came from.6
One of the most common was that it was a genetic condition passed from generation to generation. This seemed like a reasonable explanation for why many people in the same family would get the disease. Another was that it was caused by damp, cold weather. There was even the theory in New England that vampires caused it; the first person in the family to die of TB disease came back (as a vampire) and infected everyone else. In reality, it’s because TB spreads from person to person through water droplets, and families were spreading the disease at home.
Tuberculosis was not just seen as a mysterious way to die, but also a noble one. As the poet Lord Byron put it:
“How pale I look! – I should like, I think, to die of consumption … because then the women would all say, ‘see that poor Byron – how interesting he looks in dying!’”
Tuberculosis often had a positive stigma attached, both in terms of intellectual creativity and aesthetic beauty.
Many famous writers and artists we still admire today died from TB: John Keats, the sisters Emily and Charlotte Brontë, Robert Louis Stevenson, George Orwell, Frédéric Chopin, Edgar Allen Poe, the list goes on.
Many concluded that TB was a crucial ingredient of their success, with fever and confusion giving them an artistic and creative edge that others lacked. Of course, when you run the numbers on just how many people were dying from tuberculosis, it shouldn’t surprise us that some famous people, including writers and artists, were on the list. It was a statistical coincidence, not statistically significant. These examples also make clear that while wealth and status might have reduced the risks of some infectious diseases, they did not offer the protection that today’s high living standards do, especially when there were no treatments.7
People suffering from tuberculosis were seen as physically beautiful, too. This is especially true for women. TB sufferers were often extremely pale, and as a result, many people called it the “white plague”. People would lose a lot of weight, giving it another name — “consumption” — as it seemed TB was literally eating away at the body. This pale and slim aesthetic, with flushed cheeks from fever, was idolized in North America and Europe, solidifying beauty standards for the time. Previously, women had to go on restrictive diets and wear extremely tight corsets to achieve this look; now, tuberculosis did it for them.
This is what Charlotte Brontë wrote while watching her sister Anne die from it:
“Consumption, I am aware, is a flattering malady.”
You can see this depiction of a woman dying from tuberculosis in the image below, from the mid-1800s.
Of course, a slim waistline and pale complexion came at a cost. For most people, it was death.
While TB was called “consumption” because it led to a loss of appetite, weight loss, and fatigue — an “eating away” of the body — most people died from the destruction of lung tissue. Dead lung tissue can form cavities or holes, leading to coughing and breathing problems. Have you ever watched an old film or TV programme, and seen a character coughing up blood into a handkerchief? That was often tuberculosis, and a silent way of telling you that the character was doomed.
The famous poet John Keats, after coughing blood into a handkerchief, remarked:
“I cannot be deceived in that colour – that drop of blood is my death-warrant – I must die”.
Without treatment, most people who had an active tuberculosis infection would die.
Data from the early 1900s in the United Kingdom, Sweden, and Denmark shows that one-third of patients diagnosed with active tuberculosis had died within one year, and two-thirds within five years.8 By year 10, as many as 80% of people had died. This is shown in the chart below.
This left around one-quarter of people who spontaneously recovered from the disease. It’s not entirely clear why they responded more positively than most others.
While TB was incredibly deadly, it spread and developed more slowly than other infectious diseases. This added to its positive stigma: while diseases like cholera and the bubonic plague would rapidly tear through entire households and communities, tuberculosis appeared to evolve more slowly: symptoms often didn’t appear until years after infection, and then death would take several years more. It was a slower, and therefore more dignified, way to go.
Tuberculosis was already in decline before effective medical treatments arrived. To understand why, we must understand the conditions that led to such large outbreaks in cities like London, Hamburg, New York, and Stockholm.
Tuberculosis is a bacterial disease that spreads from person to person in the air through water droplets. That means they can spread when a person with an active infection speaks, coughs, sneezes, or spits.
Many people have what we call “latent tuberculosis”, which means they have been infected with Mycobacterium tuberculosis, but it lies dormant in their system: they show no symptoms (including all of the ones we discussed above) and cannot spread it.9 This is still true today. In this case, the bacteria are effectively surrounded by granulomas — small clusters of immune cells — that stop them from multiplying and keep them suppressed. But when someone’s immune system weakens or is compromised, the bacteria can break out of these granulomas and multiply. That person then has “active tuberculosis”, which means they are contagious and develop TB symptoms.
Densely populated areas with poor ventilation and poor sanitation standards are hotspots for the spread of TB.7 You can probably now guess why a city like London saw such large and devastating outbreaks at the dawn of the Industrial Revolution. Housing was densely packed, water supplies were poorly managed, and many people had started working in factories and sweatshops.
Conditions were not just perfect for the spread of TB, but people were also highly vulnerable to contracting an active infection. Malnourishment is the biggest risk factor for developing an active infection, and at the time, many Brits suffered from poor nutrition.
This combination of factors led to the extremely high death rates that we saw earlier.
But over the next two centuries, rates started to decline thanks to improvements in all of these factors. Clean water and sanitation became more readily available, living and work conditions improved, and nutrition improved. You can see this drop in the chart below, which shows death rates from tuberculosis in England and Wales since the mid-1800s.10
Rates declined dramatically for both men and women; one suggested reason for the higher rates in men is that they were more likely to smoke (which is a risk factor for TB).
Public health interventions also played a crucial role. After Robert Koch discovered the real cause of tuberculosis in the late 1800s, public health programs were developed to raise awareness of how TB spread and how families and communities could prevent it.
Below, you can see several posters that were used for public messaging. These focused on the fact that TB spreads through droplets (and limiting that spread would reduce the risks of infecting others).
A better understanding of the cause and its risk factors also led to the opening of specialized hospitals, called “tuberculosis sanatoriums”. These sanatoriums were often set up in rural areas (sometimes in the mountains at higher altitudes) with the belief that a good cure for TB was exposure to sunlight and “good air”.11 Bed rest and a good diet were crucial to the treatment regimen. Since poor nutrition is a key risk factor for developing tuberculosis, weight gain and an improved diet made sense when caring for TB patients. In the pictures below, you can see two sanatoriums: one for women and another for children.
While people from various socioeconomic backgrounds went to these sanatoriums, the quality of care varied greatly. People from richer families often went to private ones that could keep them longer and provide more specialized care. Governments in countries like the US did set up publicly-funded sanatoriums, which were more accessible for poorer households, but this often meant longer wait times for admission and shorter stays.
These hospitals didn’t cure tuberculosis, but rest and improved nutrition did help some patients go into remission (although for many, the disease would return later).
Antibiotics were the breakthrough that the world was waiting for.
In 1944, the first anti-TB treatment — streptomycin — was discovered.12 Almost simultaneously, the Swedish chemist Jörgen Lehmann discovered that para-aminosalicylic acid was also effective in treating tuberculosis. Later that decade, the UK Medical Research Council found that combining these two drugs was more effective than either alone. And by 1951, another antibiotic — isoniazid — was added to the mix, creating the first triple therapy for an infectious disease.13
The treatment plan for TB was long, usually taking 18 to 24 months.14 During that time, patients needed to consistently take the triple antibiotic therapy. But around 90% of those who did recover fully.15
This led to a dramatic decline in tuberculosis deaths in countries that could afford these treatments and made them widely available, mostly in North America and Europe.
In 1952, almost 20,000 people were dying from tuberculosis in the US every year. A decade later, this had more than halved. And by the 1980s, deaths had dropped below 2,000. You can see this decline in the chart.
By the late 1980s, the path to beating TB hit a roadblock (which I’ll cover in a separate article). Despite those setbacks, deaths in the US continued to decline and now fluctuate between 500 and 600 per year.
Once a huge killer, it is a disease that is mostly forgotten.
Tuberculosis is not mentioned much in the rich world anymore, but the fight continues in other parts of the world. The world waged war on the disease but left it half-finished.
Tuberculosis still kills almost 1.3 million people every year. That makes it the world’s deadliest infectious disease.16
Most of these deaths occur in low- and middle-income countries, where a combination of factors makes it more likely that TB spreads, people develop an active infection, and receive worse treatment.
You might wonder whether this progress in the US and Europe can be replicated elsewhere. We think it can, for a few reasons.
First, low-income countries have already made progress; TB death rates have fallen in recent decades. There’s no reason this has to stop.
Second, death rates in the US and the UK were far higher in the past than they are in some of the worst-off countries today. Look at the chart below, which shows the long historical rates from England and Wales we saw earlier, alongside rates in Ghana, Sierra Leone, Côte d’Ivoire, and Ethiopia in the last few decades. Death rates in the latter are similar to those in Britain in the 1950s and 1960s. There’s little reason why these countries can’t replicate what Britain did over the next 30 to 40 years.
Despite progress in many countries, there are still huge differences in death rates across the world. People in the hardest-hit countries — such as Lesotho and the Central African Republic — are around 800 times more likely to die from TB than an American.17
To understand what’s at stake, let’s assume every country could control and treat TB like the United States. In a separate article in this series, we’ll explore what would be needed to achieve this. Rather than 1.28 million people dying, this figure would be “only” 16,000.18 We’d save over 1.2 million lives every year.
It’s only by looking at the US or Europe’s history with tuberculosis that we know this change is possible. In the early 1950s, the death rate in the United States was 12.4 per 100,000 people. That’s not much less than the global average of 16 per 100,000 today.
Going further back in time, we saw that the human toll of the disease was far worse in historical London or New York than you’ll find almost anywhere in the world today. The fact that we either forget or are unaware of this means that this tragedy is not a given.
Acknowledgments
We thank Saloni Dattani, Edouard Mathieu, and Simon van Teutem for valuable comments and feedback on this article.
For this work, we relied heavily on academic research and detailed long-run datasets on disease prevalence and mortality. We also found John Green’s book Everything is Tuberculosis to be a useful and accessible account of the disease’s history.
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Hannah Ritchie and Fiona Spooner (2025) - “Once a leading killer, tuberculosis is now rare in rich countries — here’s how it happened” Published online at OurWorldinData.org. Retrieved from: ' [Online Resource]BibTeX citation
@article{owid-tuberculosis-history-decline,
author = {Hannah Ritchie and Fiona Spooner},
title = {Once a leading killer, tuberculosis is now rare in rich countries — here’s how it happened},
journal = {Our World in Data},
year = {2025},
note = {
}
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